You're So Sweet To Me, That Was The Best Thing Ive Ever Read.

you're so sweet to me, that was the best thing ive ever read.

late night phone calls and guided masturbation w daddy dom san

warnings: nsfw under the cut, dom!san, guided masturbation, phone sex, daddy kink, use of pet names (pretty, baby, babygirl, sannie, daddy, good girl), dirty talk, no penetration, 1.5k wrds author's notes: i need him so bad masterlist

you wake up, disturbed by a vibrating sound and sensation beside you. letting out a groan, you fumble around the mattress, searching blindly for your phone to check who's calling you at this late hour. your eyes remain closed as you try to get a grip on the new phone san had gifted you just a month ago, the large screen still unfamiliar to your touch. after a bit of struggle, your thumb finally finds the "answer the call" button.

"hello," your voice is rough, as you bury yourself in the covers, the large, comfortable pillows soft beneath your head, "who is it?"

"damn did my girl already delete my phone number?" you can hear san chuckle on his side of the phone. it had only been a week since he left for his world tour, but the distance took a toll on you, not used to being this far apart. "did i wake you, baby?"

"hi sannie," you smile before clearing your throat, rubbing at your eyes in an attempt to wake up. you pull back from the phone, glancing at the hour. it's 10:45 pm. "no, you didn't, don't worry."

"i can hear the sleep in your voice baby," he coos at you, "didn't mean to wake you up sorry pretty. go back to sleep, i'll stay on the phone with you."

"no," you quickly retort, urgency evident in your voice, pushing away the sleep that lingered moments ago. "'m not sleepy, talk to me." you can hear him smile, envisioning his soft dimples forming, and your heart flutters at the delightful image in your mind.

"so cute, gosh, i miss you so much," he groans, flopping in his hotel bed. it's comfortable and soft, but it can't quite replace the soothing comfort of having you in his arms. "can't stop thinking about you; you're always on my mind, pretty."

"i think about you too, sannie," you whisper back, hugging your pillow tightly, clinging to it like a koala. "a lot."

"really, what do you think about?" he chuckles deeply, and the sound resonates straight to your core. you press your thighs against the pillow and let out a small sigh, which he obviously notices.

"nothing in particular," you try to play it off, gently twirling one curl of your hair. though you're most definitely in the mood, you know that he just came back from a concert and must be tired. you don't want to exhaust him more than necessary, you try not to think to hard about how his body looks, huge biceps and thick fingers.

"is my sweet girl lyin' to me," he hums, his voice dipping in the octaves, knowing just how it affects you. "you know i don't like it when you lie, right, baby?"

you bite your lip at the sweet tone of his voice and whimper a soft yea, almost inaudible but san hears it. he hears it well and he smirks, there's complete silence on the line after you speak and for a moment you're scared he's hung up until he finally says something. "have you been good baby?"

yeah," you manage to let out, feeling the heat rise within you. you push the covers away from your body, and the cool room air sends shivers, leaving goosebumps on your skin.

"did you touch yourself?" he asks tentatively, and you're quick to deny the claim, knowing what would happen if you don't follow your boyfriend's simple order: "don't touch yourself when i'm not with you." "that's a good girl."

"thanks, daddy," you say with a hint of shyness, your face turning a little red. you hear him respond with a deep hum at the pet name, and you can already envision how his pants get tighter under the growing length.

"take off your panties." he changes his tone in an instant, becoming completely dominant, and lets out a small groan. "can you do that for me, pretty girl?"

"done," you respond, eagerly awaiting his next instruction, your fingers fidgeting with anticipation.

"touch that clit for me babygirl, let me know when you're wet enough to slip your pretty fingers in," he breathes out and you can hear the distinct sound of his belt loop clinking open.

you swallow tightly, and without hesitation, you do as he asks, trying to focus on the task at hand while also aware that he's likely touching himself during the conversation. getting wet doesn't take much effort; as soon as your finger touches your puffy lips, you feel yourself starting to get wet. it's been such a long time since you last felt any attention against your clit.

you release a string of curses that he finds amusing, teasing you about washing your mouth with soap when he returns, but you're too lost in pleasure to respond back.

"i'm nngh 'm wet," a soft, melodic moan escapes your lips.

"already?" he lets out a pleasurable groan, shutting his eyes tightly as his hand grasps his dick "baby fuck, you make daddy crazy, 'm so hard for my baby right now, i feel like i'm about to burst."

euphoric moans are your only reply, fastening your pace on your poor bundle of nerves.

"that's right baby, make those pretty sounds i like," he gently squeezes the base of his cock before moving his graceful fingers upward, delicately exploring the moistened tip, "put your fingers inside now."

you eagerly comply, swiftly plunging two fingers deep into your core, though it pales in comparison to the sensation of having san's dick in you. accustomed to feeling entirely full, you release a mildly irritated whine, which san finds amusing.

"'s not deep enough right," san chuckles, but his amusement quickly turns into a choked out moan, "nobody can make you feel as good as i can, not even you baby, only daddy."

you let out a soft whimper, recognizing the subtle possessiveness in his tone, and you gently add another finger, seeking deeper sensations with your cunt beyond mere soft frictions.

"that's right baby, in and out, follow my lead, in.. and out," he commands, exercising his absolute authority over you, even from afar. his resonant voice possesses such dominance that it effortlessly erases any other thoughts from your mind. "in and out."

he rambles the same words and as he continues to speak, you notice an unusual pattern—the sound of a harsh slap following each combination of words. he's pretending to be inside of you.the mere thought of it makes your eyes roll in their sockets, and you whimper for your daddy in your phone, inviting him to quicken the pace he's set.

"wish you were here daddy, you'd see the mess 'm making" you pitifully whine. as you work your fingers in, you find a small ring of cream settling at the base of your knuckles, and you let out a lewd sigh, gosh you were pathetic, "wish daddy was inside of me."

san feels his eyesight blur at your dirty words, his sweet girl, his poor sweet girl. so innocent, like a pristine canvas untouched by the world's complexities when you first met, look at you now, nothing but a slut for her daddy, "yeah, which part of me babygirl, my fingers? hmm, my cock?"

"yes yes yes ye—mmph yes want daddy's cock so bad, always makes me feel so full," you feel your climax approaching, your heart fluttering, as you eagerly press faster and harder, your tummy tightening with the build-up.

"aah," san's hips buck as he stutters a moan as his orgasm rips through him like a freight train, convulsing in exctasy, his thighs shaking as a sticky string of white liquid shoots out of his cock, unbroken, it shot in several bursts, coating him in a long strand of delicate fluid, he continues his voice strained, "daddy's gonna give it to you, gonna fuck you so deep you'll feel it in your stomach."

the continued pumping of your fingers mixed with his words bring you over the edge. it's too much for you to handle all at once and you let yourself go.

"daddy 'm coming," you find yourself managing to squeak out the words while trembling and writhing, your fingers tightening on the phone at your ear. it's as if your body is akin to an elastic band stretched to its limits, and suddenly, the band in your stomach pops.

"you did it so good baby, so so good, 'm proud of you," with a sigh, he holds the phone in between his ear and strong shoulder, his now free hand reaching for the bag of tissues resting gently on the nightstand by his side to clean the mess on his toned stomach. "daddy loves you."

"love you too," you savor the moment, taking your time to catch your breath. with closed eyes, you allow his gentle remarks to wash over you, enveloping your entire being as you slowly descend from your euphoric state. they cocoon you in a comforting embrace, filling you with warmth and contentment, "i'm tired."

with a gentle chuckle, he finds himself unable to suppress a warm smile upon imagining you sprawled breathless in the center of the oversized bed, way too big for your single form. "go ahead and sleep baby."

"you're not hanging up right?" you ask in a soft voice.

"never."

im so happy u like it!!!! sending lots of love and kisses!!

San traces gentle patterns on the exposed part of your waist, his gaze fixed on the subtle shift of your breathing. With your back turned to him, he can't see your face, but he's certain you're fast asleep. If you were awake, he wouldn't dare to touch you. Arranged marriages aren't uncommon, especially among royal families. They serve to solidify bonds, bringing prosperity and peace to kingdoms, but not necessarily to the individuals involved - the groom and the bride.

It wouldn't be truthful to say that you two love each other or even that you are friends. Even after two years of marriage, your professionalism remains the primary barrier. Since childhood, you've been immersed in rigorous studies to prepare for your role as the empress of the nation. Your life was predetermined long before you were born. Hence, San comprehends completely why you maintain such a cold demeanor toward him.

But, he can't help but yearn for you. His thoughts constantly gravitate toward you, in a way that should be ordinary for a husband but not in your circumstances. He shouldn't love you, but you're making it incredibly difficult for him. Your conduct with those around you, the way you carry yourself, and the genuine kindness you extend, even to those beneath your station, it all makes it harder for him. He sees how you pay attention to your advisors during crucial meetings, noticing the subtle furrowing of your brows when issues with the crops or markets are brought up. Your effortless thoughtfulness is simply captivating; how could he not fall for you?

San places a quivering hand on your hair, toying with a curl between his fingers. He leans in to plant a tender kiss on it, but as you stir slightly, he withdraws his hand abruptly, pretending to be asleep, shutting his eyes tight.

You turn, still in your slumber, but San doesn't open his eyes. He knows you'll wake soon, as the sun begins to filter through the balcony, altering the hues of the sky. You emit a soft murmur, and San senses your eyes opening as you let out a gentle gasp. He feels you shift away slightly, understandable since your noses were nearly touching. San remains motionless, his eyes closed, his breath held.

He remains that way for several minutes until he feels you sit up on the bed. You sigh and stay put. San softly opens his eyes, stealing a glance at your profile. Your gaze is fixed on the horizon, the soft morning light accentuating the curve of your cheek.

"I need to get pregnant," you murmur softly, a tender hand caressing your belly, your eyes glazing over, lost in thought as usual.

"What?" San blurts out, rising to his knees, his eyes wide. "What did you just say?"

You turn to him, embarrassment flushing your face. You open your mouth, then close it, resembling a fish caught off guard. You didn't expect him to be awake this early. "No—I—I just—"

"I'll give you a son," he interrupts, his voice trembling, his hand running through his hair. "If you let me, I'll give you anything." His tone carries a hint of desperation. He had refrained from any physical contact since the beginning of your marriage. It would have created more distance between you, rather than bringing you closer. He didn't want your first night together to be the result of obligations. That would have been too cruel for his heart—feeling you so close, yet your heart so far away. No.

Your face flushes, and the overwhelming urge to conceal yourself becomes unbearable. You shake your head, swiftly discarding the golden covers from your body. "You must have misheard me," you hastily interject, planting your bare soles on the chilly floor. Before you can rise from the bed, San seizes your forearm and gently guides you back, prompting an unqueenly gasp to escape your lips.

He remains silent as he caresses your hairline with a tender hand, peering at you beneath his long lashes. Both of you linger in silence for a moment, locking gazes. The room is so quiet that you can almost discern the rhythmic thumping of his heart, although you can only feel it through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

"I like you," he murmurs into the void. You part your lips to reply, but he doesn't allow you to continue. "I don't know you, but I like you. I would say I love you, but I don't want to push you. So I'll settle for 'I like you.'" He concludes, his lips pressed together in an anxious frown.

You remain silent for a while, simply gazing at him, your eyelashes fluttering. San senses that he might be on the verge of being sick, until you break into a faint smile. Your hands find their way to his face, both of them cradling his cheeks, as your thumbs stroke gently.

"I don't… I don't know you," you mumble, and it's the truth. You hadn't taken the effort to learn more about him beyond the superficial information an empress should possess about her emperor, essential for ruling over a country by his side. "But I can learn. I can try."

Your voice barely rises above a whisper, and you both chuckle like children discovering something shiny.

He leans down over your body, planting a gentle kiss on the gold earring adorning your left ear and then another at the juncture of your ear and neck. He lingers for a few moments, inhaling your natural scent as he feels you shudder at the touch of his lips against your skin. A smirk tugs at his lips before he swiftly jumps out of bed, leaving you alone in the opulent chamber. You hear him exuberantly cheering with the knights outside the door, and you can't help but smile at his youthful enthusiasm. He's making a complete fool of himself, and you turn in the bed, burying your face in his pillow, releasing your own muffled scream of excitement, your feet kicking up in the air. You find yourself laughing, carried away by the rush of adrenaline.

Suddenly, someone clears their throat from behind you. You turn to find the rotation of maids, poised and ready for your daily morning routine. Flustered, you promptly compose yourself, rising to sit and smoothing down your hair. The youngest maids attempt to stifle their laughter behind their sleeves, while you attempt not to perish from embarrassment.

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What r ur thoughts about the Doyoung, and MacDonald's controversy?

i knew they'd eventually start using kpop idols because they know kpop stans will buy anything to supports their favs , i don't eat mcdonalds so i have no problem not giving them my money , but all i have to say is you don't always have to buy everything your favs endorse.

i'd sacrifice the whole world if it meant i could get hugged like that by him

You're running as fast as you can, feeling your heart pound in your chest. But no matter how hard you try, it's like your lungs just can't grab enough air. You're on the verge of collapsing, but you fight against it because you know that if you do, the creature chasing you will catch up. You try to move quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention from the zombies, the one trailing behind you is more than enough to handle.

You swiftly dart into an alley, the chill hitting you as you slide under a beat-up Ford, hoping the zombie isn't clever enough to figure out how to wriggle in and grab you. With your palms pressed against your mouth, you stifle your sobs, stealing glances as the zombie's body lunges violently at the car, its desperate cries and growls piercing the air as it searches for you.

You remain there, tears streaming down the sides of your temples, praying that it doesn't locate you. It feels like hours, but it's probably only been a few minutes, before the creature loses interest and sets off to hunt down another victim elsewhere.

You shut your eyes, allowing the tears to trickle down your cheeks, relishing this brief respite. You know better than to venture out of your hiding spot now; it would be a foolish move. The zombie might still be lurking nearby, and you're utterly spent, devoid of the energy to flee once more. Your legs feel distant, except for the persistent throbbing in your thighs. Glancing to the side, you catch sight of a distant silhouette at the mouth of the alley. Your lip quivers as you pray it's not another monster. You focus on steadying your breath, doing your utmost not to draw any attention, until the walkie-talkie strapped to your waist crackles to life, Wooyoung's voice inquiring about your whereabouts and whether you were able to secure the meds you sought.

Frantically, you fumble with the device, attempting to silence it, smash it, anything to no avail, as the zombie has already caught wind of the noise. A searing shriek escapes you as it homes in on your position with alarming speed. Fear overwhelms you, making it impossible to stifle your cries as you try to scramble away from the relentless advance of the oncoming undead.

You cry as you try to move but the zombie is already there, having ran so fast, it fell, which conveniently helped it get to you easier. You struggle against the relentless grip of the zombie, which had managed to reach you despite its fall. A piercing shriek escapes your lips as its bloodied hand seizes your boot, refusing to release its hold, overpowering your feeble attempts to break free. The creature's ghastly appearance sends shivers down your spine, its face a distorted mask of veins snaking through its cheeks to its pitch-black eyes. Smudges of blood and shreds of flesh cling to its decaying teeth, intensifying the nausea already roiling within you.

With a horrifying tug, it secures its grip on your ankle, your skin brushing against its own causing you to cry out even louder, the mere thought of a scratch sealing your fate—infected. The monster echoes your cries with its own guttural growls, hauling you closer with an inhuman force. You resign yourself to the belief that this is the end, that you will meet your demise here. It's over. You're dead.

Yet, just as despair settles in, something yanks the zombie by its legs, pulling it out from beneath the car. In a fleeting moment, you witness a knife thrusting into the creature's skull.

Through your tear-blurred vision, you spot Wooyoung kneeling before you, frantically scanning beneath the car, his disheveled appearance adding an unexpected allure. Specks of blood dot his face, his tousled hair falling across his eyes, a glistening sheen of sweat adorning his flushed cheeks. You sob uncontrollably as he tugs you into his embrace, pulling you out from your hiding place.

As you collapse into his lap, your tears dampening the nape of his neck, he holds you tightly, his broad palm cradling your head, drawing you nearer to him, while his other arm encircles your waist. He sways gently, murmuring reassurances about how you're okay and safe, about how he's not going to let anything hurt you, about how he's sorry, about how he should've been next to you and vows to never leave your side again.

His whispered words of comfort soothe your racing heart, calming the storm within you as you cling to him, finding solace in the warmth of his embrace, the assurance of his protective presence.

He eases you back slightly, his gaze fixated on your face as his hands tenderly sweep away the disheveled strands, tucking them behind your ears to better take in your features. Lowering his head to yours, his forehead presses gently against yours, your breaths mingling in the stillness, the world around you fading into the background as you share a moment of intimacy amidst the desolation of the city.

Guiding your chin with a gentle touch, he guides your lips to meet his in a languid kiss, his tongue delicately tracing the outline of your chapped lips, coaxing you to open them. You allow his tongue to slip past, a gentle dance commencing as it caresses yours, each movement tender and deliberate, creating a rhythm that speaks of both longing and relief. This delicate exchange continues, a cherished connection that speaks volumes in its simplicity and depth.

As you both part, Wooyoung helps you to your feet, planting a soft kiss on your forehead before leading you deeper into the city, glock in hand, toward the refuge of a random apartment, your own little sanctuary.

"Let's go pretty girl, I found some canned peaches, we're gonna eat good tonight"

masterlist | taglist in comments | feedback is appreciated :)

this whole paragraph is so tcfygvkuhblijno, you should definitely write your own sequel to this,,, like i'll read it for sure!! im so happy you liked it that much, it makes my heart warm :) if i ever make a pt.2 i'll tag u love <3

San traces gentle patterns on the exposed part of your waist, his gaze fixed on the subtle shift of your breathing. With your back turned to him, he can't see your face, but he's certain you're fast asleep. If you were awake, he wouldn't dare to touch you. Arranged marriages aren't uncommon, especially among royal families. They serve to solidify bonds, bringing prosperity and peace to kingdoms, but not necessarily to the individuals involved - the groom and the bride.

It wouldn't be truthful to say that you two love each other or even that you are friends. Even after two years of marriage, your professionalism remains the primary barrier. Since childhood, you've been immersed in rigorous studies to prepare for your role as the empress of the nation. Your life was predetermined long before you were born. Hence, San comprehends completely why you maintain such a cold demeanor toward him.

But, he can't help but yearn for you. His thoughts constantly gravitate toward you, in a way that should be ordinary for a husband but not in your circumstances. He shouldn't love you, but you're making it incredibly difficult for him. Your conduct with those around you, the way you carry yourself, and the genuine kindness you extend, even to those beneath your station, it all makes it harder for him. He sees how you pay attention to your advisors during crucial meetings, noticing the subtle furrowing of your brows when issues with the crops or markets are brought up. Your effortless thoughtfulness is simply captivating; how could he not fall for you?

San places a quivering hand on your hair, toying with a curl between his fingers. He leans in to plant a tender kiss on it, but as you stir slightly, he withdraws his hand abruptly, pretending to be asleep, shutting his eyes tight.

You turn, still in your slumber, but San doesn't open his eyes. He knows you'll wake soon, as the sun begins to filter through the balcony, altering the hues of the sky. You emit a soft murmur, and San senses your eyes opening as you let out a gentle gasp. He feels you shift away slightly, understandable since your noses were nearly touching. San remains motionless, his eyes closed, his breath held.

He remains that way for several minutes until he feels you sit up on the bed. You sigh and stay put. San softly opens his eyes, stealing a glance at your profile. Your gaze is fixed on the horizon, the soft morning light accentuating the curve of your cheek.

"I need to get pregnant," you murmur softly, a tender hand caressing your belly, your eyes glazing over, lost in thought as usual.

"What?" San blurts out, rising to his knees, his eyes wide. "What did you just say?"

You turn to him, embarrassment flushing your face. You open your mouth, then close it, resembling a fish caught off guard. You didn't expect him to be awake this early. "No—I—I just—"

"I'll give you a son," he interrupts, his voice trembling, his hand running through his hair. "If you let me, I'll give you anything." His tone carries a hint of desperation. He had refrained from any physical contact since the beginning of your marriage. It would have created more distance between you, rather than bringing you closer. He didn't want your first night together to be the result of obligations. That would have been too cruel for his heart—feeling you so close, yet your heart so far away. No.

Your face flushes, and the overwhelming urge to conceal yourself becomes unbearable. You shake your head, swiftly discarding the golden covers from your body. "You must have misheard me," you hastily interject, planting your bare soles on the chilly floor. Before you can rise from the bed, San seizes your forearm and gently guides you back, prompting an unqueenly gasp to escape your lips.

He remains silent as he caresses your hairline with a tender hand, peering at you beneath his long lashes. Both of you linger in silence for a moment, locking gazes. The room is so quiet that you can almost discern the rhythmic thumping of his heart, although you can only feel it through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

"I like you," he murmurs into the void. You part your lips to reply, but he doesn't allow you to continue. "I don't know you, but I like you. I would say I love you, but I don't want to push you. So I'll settle for 'I like you.'" He concludes, his lips pressed together in an anxious frown.

You remain silent for a while, simply gazing at him, your eyelashes fluttering. San senses that he might be on the verge of being sick, until you break into a faint smile. Your hands find their way to his face, both of them cradling his cheeks, as your thumbs stroke gently.

"I don't… I don't know you," you mumble, and it's the truth. You hadn't taken the effort to learn more about him beyond the superficial information an empress should possess about her emperor, essential for ruling over a country by his side. "But I can learn. I can try."

Your voice barely rises above a whisper, and you both chuckle like children discovering something shiny.

He leans down over your body, planting a gentle kiss on the gold earring adorning your left ear and then another at the juncture of your ear and neck. He lingers for a few moments, inhaling your natural scent as he feels you shudder at the touch of his lips against your skin. A smirk tugs at his lips before he swiftly jumps out of bed, leaving you alone in the opulent chamber. You hear him exuberantly cheering with the knights outside the door, and you can't help but smile at his youthful enthusiasm. He's making a complete fool of himself, and you turn in the bed, burying your face in his pillow, releasing your own muffled scream of excitement, your feet kicking up in the air. You find yourself laughing, carried away by the rush of adrenaline.

Suddenly, someone clears their throat from behind you. You turn to find the rotation of maids, poised and ready for your daily morning routine. Flustered, you promptly compose yourself, rising to sit and smoothing down your hair. The youngest maids attempt to stifle their laughter behind their sleeves, while you attempt not to perish from embarrassment.

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