────* ˚ ✦ CAUGHT IN THE ACT ( Stray Kids )

I wish you would write a fic where...

Send me an anymous (or not) summary of the fic you wish I would write. (maybe I will write a tidbit)

𑁍ࠬܓ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( stray kids )

❛ In which the members of Stray Kids navigate the world of fatherhood without you.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 4.4k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This request was absolutely devastating to write, thank you! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N has passed away, each member is a single father still in love with you, mentions of grief, some of the kids fall under the LGBTQ+ community.

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

방찬 ── BANG CHAN.

Chan's office was bathed in the soft, amber glow of the desk lamps, casting a warm yet somber light across the room. The gentle hum of the night time silence was broken only by the rhythmic, soothing breaths of his three-year-old daughter, who lay peacefully on the worn leather couch. Her tiny face, so serene in slumber, was a haunting mirror of your beautiful features, stirring a profound ache in Chan's heart.

As he watched her, tears began to silently trace their way down his cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of his sorrow and longing. He could still hear your final, trembling words: "Love her twice as much in my absence." The memory was a dagger, twisting with the relentless guilt and grief that had become his constant companions. The sight of his daughter's innocent face, so reminiscent of you, only deepened his anguish.

Today had been especially trying. Chan had promised his little girl a joyous outing to the park, a precious respite from his hectic work schedule. But the day took an unexpected turn when Changbin called in a panic, frantically searching for the nearly completed recording of their latest song. What Chan had hoped would be a swift resolution morphed into hours of desperate searching, only to end in the devastating realization that they would have to begin the recording anew.

All the while, his daughter’s patience wore thin. She had no toys, no distractions, just the suffocating boredom of waiting. Her disappointment was palpable, a silent reproach that cut deeper than any words could. Chan felt like he was failing her, failing in the promise he had made to you. Driven by the need to make amends, he gently woke his daughter. Her initial crankiness gave way to curiosity as he apologized for breaking his promise and proposed a sleepover at home. Movies, games, a fort, and endless cuddles — her eyes sparkled at the thought, and her frown dissolved into giggles.

At home, they transformed the living room into a magical fortress of pillows and blankets, a sanctuary just for them. They watched animated tales, played games, and reveled in the simple joy of being together. Wrapped in the cozy embrace of their fort, she eventually succumbed to sleep once more, nestled against him. Her hair, a tousled mess, and a small trail of drool on his shirt were endearing reminders of her tender age and boundless trust in him.

Chan held her close, his heart swelling with love and a bittersweet yearning. She was the living embodiment of his heart, and as he gazed at her, he whispered a vow into the stillness of the night. He promised to love her with all his might, carrying the weight of both his love and the part of you that would forever reside in their lives. In that quiet moment, amidst the echoes of his promises, he felt a fragile sense of peace, knowing that as long as he held her, he was keeping your memory alive.

이민호 ── LEE MINHO.

Minho lay in the dim, soft glow of his bedroom, shadows whispering across the walls as the twins slept peacefully beside him. Their tiny forms had claimed your side of the bed, filling the void where your presence once brought warmth and comfort. The night he returned home with the babies, he had attempted to sleep alone, but the emptiness was unbearable. He tossed and turned, haunted by the silence, until one of the babies began to cry, inevitably waking the other. In his desperation to soothe them, he gathered every pillow he could find, crafting a makeshift crib in his bed. Their delicate features softened in the calm of his presence, and they finally drifted off to sleep.

As Minho gazed at their angelic faces, hands entwined even in slumber, his heart ached with the weight of your absence. How could he begin to process this loss? You had spent almost ten months nurturing these little miracles, only to be taken away before you could revel in the beauty of their existence. Ten months of creating life, and you would never witness the serene way they held hands in their sleep. Ten months of dreams and hopes, and you would miss their first birthdays, graduations, weddings. It was unbearably cruel, and Minho’s soul was tormented by the thought.

You wouldn’t even be here to laugh about the pregnancy mix-up that had both of you convinced it would be a boy and a girl, only to welcome two beautiful baby girls into the world. His friends had offered to stay and help, but he had declined, needing the solitude to grapple with his grief. Now, in the stillness of the night, he questioned if he had made the right choice.

Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks as the full weight of his new reality settled over him. He was to raise these precious little princesses on his own, and the responsibility felt crushing. Yet, as he watched their peaceful slumber, he knew he had to summon every ounce of strength for them. They were his world now, the living, breathing remnants of your love. He vowed to cherish them, to love them fiercely, and to guide them through life with unwavering dedication, for they were all he had left of you, and he was all they had.

In the hushed silence, he whispered promises into the night, pledging to be the best father he could be. He would ensure they knew how deeply you loved them, even if you couldn’t be there to tell them yourself. And as he held them close, feeling the rise and fall of their tiny chests, a fragile peace washed over him. He knew that in every laugh, every tear, and every milestone, you would be there in spirit, guiding him, loving them, always.

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the park as Changbin and his 13-year-old son sat on a weathered wooden bench, savoring their ice cream. The park buzzed with the laughter of children, their joy mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves in the summer breeze. Parents lounged on the grass, basking in the last light of day, while Changbin watched his son’s face light up with a blush as he received a message.

Changbin couldn’t resist teasing him. "Who’s got you smiling like that?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity.

His son’s cheeks reddened further, and he looked away, trying to hide his smile. "Just a girl from school," he mumbled, glancing at his phone. "She texted to congratulate me on today’s soccer game."

Changbin’s interest was piqued. "A girl, huh? Do you like her?" he inquired gently, but his son just rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts to himself.

After a while, his son broke the comfortable silence with a question that took Changbin by surprise. "Dad, how did you know Mom was the one for you?"

Changbin's heart swelled with a bittersweet mix of love and nostalgia. He took a deep breath, the memory washing over him like a tender wave. "Well," he began softly, "it was before you were born. Your mom and I had only been dating for a few months. One evening, we decided to take a ride on my motorcycle to grab some food. On the way back, she spotted a bookstore and got all excited. She tapped my shoulder and pointed it out, her eyes sparkling like a child's. I couldn't say no to that."

He smiled, lost in the memory. "We stopped, and I handed her my card, telling her to get whatever she wanted. She promised she’d come out empty-handed, but I knew better." He chuckled, remembering your sheepish yet triumphant expression as you emerged with a bag hidden behind your back. "She ended up buying two books and couldn’t stop talking about them, her excitement contagious. When I told her I was glad she found something, she did this little dance of joy before climbing back onto the bike. She had to hold the bag since her backpack was already stuffed with our food, but she was too happy to care."

Changbin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. "That’s when I knew she was the one. It wasn’t some grand gesture; it was her pure joy in the little things, her passion for life. I wish you could have known her. She loved you so much, even before you were born."

His son’s eyes mirrored his own longing and admiration. "I wish I’d known her too," he said softly. "My goal in life is to find my soulmate, like you found Mom. I want to love someone as much as you loved her."

Changbin’s heart ached with pride and sorrow. "You deserve to have someone by your side for a long time," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added, "Who knows, maybe this girl from school is your one."

His son groaned, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he nudged Changbin, causing his ice cream to topple onto the ground. Changbin laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the park. His own ice cream slipped from his grasp, joining his son’s on the pavement, and they both burst into laughter, the joy of the moment a soothing balm to their hearts.

In that golden hour, surrounded by the simple pleasures of ice cream and shared memories, Changbin felt a profound sense of peace. Despite the heartache and loss, he and his son would continue to find love and joy in the little things, just as you had taught him. And in those moments of laughter and connection, he felt your presence with them, a silent guardian watching over their journey, smiling at their shared happiness.

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN.

Hyunjin sat alone in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden hue over the familiar surroundings. The air was thick with memories, each piece of furniture and every stroke of paint a testament to the love and labor he had shared with you. His heart ached with a bittersweet nostalgia as he looked around, his mind filled with the echoes of laughter and the whispers of cherished moments.

He remembered the countless hours spent building the furniture, the frustration and triumph mingling as he struggled with stubborn screws, while you sat nearby, reading the instructions with a patience that never failed to calm him. The nursery walls, painted in a tapestry of happy themes, bore the marks of your combined artistic talents, creating a sanctuary for the new life you both awaited with eager anticipation.

The night he returned home with the baby, your absence a gaping void beside him, was etched into his soul. He had sat in the rocking chair, the one he had bought especially for you, cradling the fragile bundle in his arms, paralyzed by the fear of being alone. Many nights, he had dozed off in that chair, too afraid to leave its comforting embrace, haunted by the silence that your departure had left behind.

A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the day he found your child drawing on the walls, their tiny hands busy creating a colorful mural over your delicate paintings. It had pained him to see your work altered, but the sight of their concentrated little face, so much like yours, had softened his heart. He had chosen to let them be creative, to express themselves freely, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of you.

He thought of the time his six-year-old had cried in his arms, their tiny body trembling with confusion and hurt because they didn't fit in with the boys or the girls. Hyunjin had held them close, whispering reassurances, his heart breaking at the familiar pain. It had been a long journey, but he had worked tirelessly to make their home a sanctuary of love and acceptance.

The memories came in a flood, each one a cherished gem: the summer in middle school when they returned home with bags of new clothes and put on a fashion show, proudly displaying their androgynous style; the pride parade, where he meticulously placed sticky rainbow gems on their face, their giddy excitement lighting up the day; and finally, the day they graduated and moved out, leaving behind an empty room filled with the ghosts of the past.

Tears rolled down Hyunjin’s face as he sat in the rocking chair, now old and creaky, thinking of all the moments he had cherished yet wished he could have shared with you. The weight of the memories pressed down on him, a heavy, inescapable burden.

Suddenly, his phone rang, startling him from his reverie. He hastily wiped his tears and saw it was a FaceTime call from his child. He answered, and their beaming face filled the screen, the excitement in their eyes mirrored by the twinkling fairy lights in their new apartment's bedroom.

“Hey, Dad! Look at my new room!” they exclaimed, panning the camera around to show off their new space, their voice bubbling with pride and joy.

Hyunjin’s heart swelled with pride and love. “It looks amazing, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I miss you,” they confessed, their eyes shining with unshed tears. “Can we spend the first night together, through the phone?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, trying to mask his lingering sadness. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of moving out?”

They laughed, a sound that was pure and unfiltered joy. “Maybe, but I know you’re in my old room crying already.”

He laughed too, the heaviness lifting just a bit. “You got me there.”

They didn’t hang up, staying connected through the screen as the night deepened. Hyunjin lay back in the rocking chair, his child propped up in their new bed, both finding solace in the familiar presence of each other. As they talked and laughed, Hyunjin realized that though you weren’t physically there, your spirit lived on in these moments, in the love that continued to bind them together. And for now, that was enough.

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

Jisung found his seven-year-old child hidden within the treehouse that the three of you had built together. This small wooden sanctuary, once filled with laughter and joy, now bore the heavy weight of sorrow. They were still in their funeral attire, the black clothes contrasting sharply against the soft glow of the setting sun. The murmurs of the guests lingering in the backyard became a distant, indistinct hum as Jisung climbed into the treehouse, his heart burdened with grief and a simmering anger at the universe for taking you away so cruelly.

His son's youthful face was etched with a grief that seemed too profound for such a young soul. Jisung felt a surge of helplessness as he reached out, pulling his child close, wrapping him in an embrace meant to shield him from the cruel world outside. “I miss Mom,” came the soft, heart-wrenching whisper, each word a dagger to Jisung’s already shattered heart.

“I miss Mom too,” Jisung murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. They sat together in silence, the weight of your absence pressing down on them like an insurmountable force.

It had been nearly a year since you had fallen ill, the sickness so severe that the doctors had given you only a few months at most. Yet, you had defied their grim prognosis, your spirit burning brightly despite the frailty of your body. Jisung remembered the countless nights spent by your side, swallowing his fears and anger as you spoke of your impending death with a calm acceptance that had always made him furious. To him, it felt as though you had given up, but he knew deep down that wasn’t the case. You hadn’t wanted to waste what little time you had left fighting an unwinnable battle. Perhaps if he had truly listened, if he had embraced those fleeting moments instead of railing against them, he might have cherished your final days more deeply.

His son, too young to fully grasp the concept of death, struggled with the finality of it all. He understood that you would never return, yet accepting it was a different matter entirely. Jisung’s heart broke anew each time he saw the confusion and sorrow in his child’s eyes, a mirror of his own torment.

Holding his son tighter, Jisung wished he could find the right words to ease the pain, to make sense of a world that had suddenly lost its light. But words failed him, crumbled under the weight of their shared grief. Instead, he let the silence speak, hoping the strength of his embrace could convey the love and comfort his words could not.

The treehouse, once a symbol of their shared joy, now held their sorrow. The walls, which had echoed with laughter and dreams, now seemed to absorb their pain, standing as silent witnesses to their loss. But within this small, sacred space, surrounded by the memories of happier times, Jisung hoped they could begin to heal. He would be there for his son, a steadfast presence in the storm of their grief, guiding him through the darkness with a love that, while tested, remained unbroken.

As the last light of day faded, Jisung held his son close, both finding a semblance of solace in each other’s presence. In the quiet, grief-stricken aftermath, they began to forge a new bond, one tempered by loss but strengthened by their enduring love. And in that silent communion, Jisung found a glimmer of hope that they would eventually find their way through the darkness together.

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

In a home where the relentless energy of three young girls and their single father painted every day with hues of joyous chaos, peace was a fleeting visitor. The air thrummed with the symphony of exuberant laughter, the vibrant discord of simultaneous chatter, and the relentless rhythm of youthful exuberance. Yongbok would never trade this tempestuous world for anything, yet a hollow ache lingered for the presence of the one who had been the steady heartbeat of their lives.

Your sudden departure had cast a profound shadow over their once lively abode, transforming it into a quieter realm where your laughter’s echoes were replaced by an oppressive silence. As time wove its delicate fabric over the jagged edges of grief, the house gradually adjusted to a new cadence, yet the weight of your absence hung heavy in every corner.

Despite this, Yongbok discovered fragments of you embedded within the fabric of their daily lives. He saw your essence in the selfless nurturing of his eldest daughter, who had seamlessly stepped into the role of co-caregiver. Her quiet acts of love and responsibility were a poignant echo of the devotion you had always shown, a continuation of your spirit in her every gesture.

In the middle child’s vibrant monologues about obscure topics, Yongbok glimpsed your enduring influence. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge mirrored the intellectual curiosity you had nurtured, each passionate explanation a living testament to your legacy.

The youngest, with her mischievous gleam and boundless spirit, kept Yongbok perpetually on his toes. Her playful antics and joyful mischief were a vivid reminder of the vivacity you had infused into their home, a living echo of the light you had brought into their lives.

In the quiet moments, Yongbok could still feel your presence. The post-it notes left in his lunch bag by his eldest daughter, each inscribed with a simple message of love, were imbued with your warmth. The tender strokes of his middle daughter’s fingers through his hair during their movie nights were a silent connection to you. And in the gentle inquiries of his youngest, her head peeking around the door to ensure he was alright, he felt the deep compassion you had instilled in her.

Though you were absent from the milestones and daily rhythms, your essence lived on through them. In the small, tender acts of affection and love, you continued to be a cherished part of their lives, an enduring presence in their hearts.

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin had been absent through the vast expanse of your pregnancy, the relentless demands of touring keeping him away. He returned just in time to witness the birth, only to be swallowed by the crushing weight of your absence. The pain of missing those precious moments with you, of not being there to share in the miracle of your last days, was a wound that never healed. This haunting regret followed him, a constant reminder of a future lost.

The day you passed, Seungmin left Stray Kids, unable to bear the weight of the stage without you by his side. He couldn’t find solace in the bright lights or the rhythms of his music. Instead, he focused on his two sons—an older one, now sixteen, and a younger one, now twelve. The older boy, once a vibrant spirit, had retreated into the shadows of his room, his once lively demeanor replaced by a sullen silence. The baseball games that had once bound them together now lay abandoned, and Seungmin, despite the storm within, knew he had to reach out.

Determined to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, Seungmin planned a day just for the two of them. He left the youngest with his closest friend, Jeongin, and took his older son out. The car ride was a quiet procession of unspoken thoughts, the weight of their shared grief hanging heavily between them. When they finally arrived at their destination, Seungmin braced himself, ready to face the tender fracture of their relationship.

It took patience, but eventually, the silence broke. The older boy revealed his feelings for a boy at school, emotions that he struggled to understand. Seungmin was taken aback, but he remained calm, his heart aching with a blend of surprise and concern. As his son’s tears fell freely, Seungmin pulled him into a tender embrace, his own heart aching with a mixture of empathy and love. He whispered reassurances into his son’s hair, promising acceptance and protection, vowing to stand by him no matter what.

The boy, still tearful but comforted, then showed Seungmin a small journal. Inside was a song he had penned, a poignant melody woven with the threads of his conflicted feelings for the boy at school. The song was hauntingly beautiful, a reflection of his son’s delicate soul and burgeoning talent. Seungmin’s heart swelled with pride and love as he listened, recognizing the echoes of his own musical spirit in his child’s creation.

As the day drew to a close, Seungmin received a snapshot from Jeongin—his youngest child, covered in dirt and beaming with the joy of a day spent playing baseball. The image was a burst of pure happiness, a vivid reminder that even amidst the sorrow, moments of light and joy persisted.

As the sun set, Seungmin felt a renewed connection with his older son, a fragile yet precious bond rekindled through their shared experiences and heartfelt conversation. Though the regret of not being there for you lingered, he found solace in the fact that he was striving to be the father you would have been proud of. In the quiet moments of the evening, he hoped, with all his heart, that wherever you were, you watched over them and felt a deep pride in the man he was becoming—a father striving to honor your memory through the love and strength he gave to your family.

양정인 ── YANG JEONGIN.

Jeongin’s youngest daughter was a restless spirit, her stubborn yet carefree nature a constant reminder of the love she once shared with you. Each burst of laughter, every defiant flicker of joy, was a living echo of your vibrant presence. In contrast, his oldest son was a mirror of Jeongin’s own meticulous nature, his life meticulously ordered, each ambition carefully planned.

Lately, Jeongin’s heart had been heavy with worry. His daughter, brimming with reckless exuberance, frequently dashed off to meet a boy Jeongin knew was unworthy. The thought of her entangled with someone without a future gnawed at him, leaving him adrift in a sea of concern. As he lay awake at night, the silence seemed to taunt him, and he often found himself wondering how you would have navigated these troubled waters if you had still been there to guide them.

One night, as the moonlight spilled softly through the window, Jeongin was wrenched from sleep by the unmistakable sound of muffled sobs. His heart raced as he followed the cries to his daughter’s room. He paused at the door, the murmur of his son’s voice cutting through the silence. The room, once a sanctuary of dreams, was now a cocoon of whispered regrets and stifled tears. His daughter’s voice wavered with the weight of her shame, confessing her feelings of foolishness for having trusted the boy. His son, with a soothing calmness that mirrored your gentle strength, reassured her that she wasn’t foolish, merely swept up in the exhilarating tide of young love. He told her she deserved better than a boy with no future, his words a soft balm to her wounded spirit.

Jeongin’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow as he heard his son’s comforting tones, the echoes of your nurturing spirit resonating in his voice. After a few moments, he gathered the courage to step into the room. His eyes were tender with understanding as he took in the scene: his daughter’s tear-streaked face, her hands buried in her lap. Her cries grew louder as she saw him, her embarrassment palpable as she shielded her face with her hands.

Jeongin knelt before her, his expression a blend of love and compassion. Gently, he reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face to hold them in his own. His touch was a lifeline, a silent promise of unwavering support.

“You told me so, I know,” she choked out, her voice a trembling whisper.

“I would never say that, my love,” Jeongin murmured, his voice rich with tenderness. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. His gaze met his son’s, a shared understanding passing between them.

“I know it hurts,” Jeongin whispered into her hair, his voice a soothing melody against her ear, “but this isn’t the end.” His embrace was a warm cocoon, a sanctuary of love amidst the storm of her emotions. The night unfolded in a delicate tapestry of comfort and hope, a testament to the enduring love that bound them together, even in the quiet absence of your guiding presence.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @bowsnbang @nothinginterestingtoshowhere

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

stopppppppppp

i really enjoy talking with you too! i get so giddy every time i see that you’ve replied to me!!

shutdown is one of my absolute favorites. i didn’t know i was bi until quite recently, and i was so obsessed with it when it first released. makes sense now.

and oh my god the tiktok. poor thing. you’re right, they really did do jiung so dirty😭😭

(also i just realized that i made a mistake when i said k-pop was a hyper fixation. i meant it was becoming a special interest. my brain was just trying to get all the words out but they didn’t really come out in the right order🤦‍♀️)

- 🍀

ME TOO!! You’re literally so fun to interact with 😭

Shutdown is so good and for what? If I remember correctly, by the time I discovered the song I was still fairly new into the K-Pop world so I was pretty shocked at how homosexual the song was LMAO 🤣 This song is pretty much what made me aware of Mamamoo, but I didn’t start actually learning about them until a bit later. Also 😭 I feel like gays obsessing over queer content without knowing that they’re gay themselves is such a canon event for every queer that’s ever lived. For me, I used to be so inexplicably attracted to Stella by Lemonade Mouth and then later on I find out she was a whole lesbian this whole time and I was like ooooooh

PLEASE and then the video went so viral 😭 he’s such a champ about it honestly. Like, it’s always somehow him too! One time he couldn’t be on stage or show up somewhere and the company announced that he couldn’t attend because he was having explosive diarrhea like GUYS what happened to secrets??? What happened “he’s just sick”???

Oh! Okay, so lowkey that’s a relief! Obviously if it really was just a hyperfixation, I would’ve stood by what I said 🫶 But I was also kinda like :( ‘okay but stay for a long time though’ 😅 BUT I’m glad it’s becoming a special interest! CHEERS TO AUDHD QUEERS WHOSE SPECIAL INTERESTS IS K-POP 🍻🍻

By the way, this might be a dumb question (I’m sorry)…but do you get notified when I respond somehow? I know Anons don’t usually get notified…unless you’ve got notifications for your specific tag or something? Or do you just check my blog every now and then? Because that’s what I do when I message people anonymously. I don’t know LMAO sorry!

an art museum sounds really cool, good luck with the camp !!

ive been quite weird lately, but everything's steady for now so im just glad im still here existing :3

take care love, see you soon😽😽

— 👒

thank you!

aw i’m sorry things have been weird for you, just know that you can talk to me about it any time! although i’m glad things are steady now :) take care lovely!

Oh, Green!

I can’t even begin to describe how happy it made me when I saw that you had answered my requests! When I tell you that I genuinely teared up while reading both of them, it was so beautifully written. Thank you so much for this blessing!

I honestly can’t wait until you post my Hyunjin request. Based on what you wrote for Jongseob and Gaon, I just know that the one for Hyunjin is also going to have me crying.

You genuinely seem like such a sweet person! So I’m really glad to have found your blog!

All the love,

🩷 Anon

Hey 🩷, I’m sorry I didn’t see this sooner!

But I’m so, so glad that I managed to deliver well! Thank you so much for the compliments, your requests were the blessing here because they were so self-indulgent 🫶🥹

As for your Hyunjin request, it’s getting there! It looks like it’ll end up being a longfic because I just want to really go into the whole friendship dynamics and I also want the friendship to flow into romance in a way that makes sense, so it’s taking me a little while to figure out the flow of the story. I promise I haven’t forgotten it!

I try to be as sweet as I can, and I’m happy you found me ❤️‍🩹

────* ˚ ✦ BONDS OF PASSION ( stray kids )

❛ In a night of profound emotional connection and intimacy, you and Minho explore your bond through the intricate art of shibari, culminating in a tender embrace that deepens your love and gratitude.

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.2k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 28 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ I'm always saying this, but I really love shibari; it's quite literally one of my favorite kinks. So, thank you to my wonderful mootie, Merin, for making the request! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, this is Y/N's first time participating in shibari, Minho has experience in shibari, intensely emotional sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), penetration, unprotected sex (please don't do this), let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

The world outside seemed to fade away as if his bedroom had slipped into a realm of its own, where time slowed and the only reality was the two of you, kneeling on the floor. Every breath shared in the confined space felt amplified, the air thick with anticipation. The weight of your bare bodies pressed against the cool wooden floor, facing each other in a vulnerable dance of gazes that held unspoken promises. His eyes, deep pools of dark intensity, locked onto yours with a fervor you had never witnessed before. Minho's gaze bore into you, filled with a passion so palpable it sent shivers down your spine, yet there was something more—a quiet confidence, an ease born of experience, that radiated from him like a quiet storm. It was a look that only someone who had navigated these waters before could possess.

In contrast, you could feel the uncertainty swirling within your own eyes, a reflection of the storm raging inside you. You imagined how pale your face must appear under the soft light, as your heart pounded relentlessly against your chest, each beat echoing in the stillness of the room. The silence between you both was almost deafening, broken only by the rhythmic rise and fall of your breaths. You were acutely aware that this was uncharted territory for you, a space where Minho had already traveled with ease. 

This would be the first time you would surrender so completely, relinquishing not just the control of your body but also the reins of your heart and soul. The thought of it made your pulse race even faster, a flutter of nerves and excitement tangling within you. The rope you had both chosen together, a symbol of trust and shared desire, lay between you on the floor, a silent witness to the intimacy about to unfold. As you knelt before him, you knew that tonight, you would willingly empty your mind, allowing Minho to guide you into a world where he alone dictated the pace, where his touch would define your every movement and sensation. And as the rope waited patiently, you found yourself ready to embark on this journey with him, prepared to lose yourself in the intensity of the moment.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly before Minho’s lips finally curled into a gentle, reassuring smile, a subtle yet powerful gesture that sent a cascade of tingles racing across your skin. The moment felt suspended in a delicate balance between anticipation and reality, where the space between you two was charged with an unspoken understanding. The warmth of his gaze enveloped you, pulling you into the depths of his emotions, where you could glimpse the full spectrum of his intentions, his unyielding desire, and the raw intensity of his feelings. In that gaze, you found solace, a calming balm to the storm of thoughts that had been churning within you.

The world outside seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you cocooned in this intimate bubble. Minho’s eyes spoke volumes, revealing the depth of his commitment to you, and in that moment, all remnants of doubt and anxiety began to dissipate. The air around you, thick with silent anticipation, was finally pierced by the soft melody of his voice, tender and careful as if coaxing your soul to dance with his. “Do you remember our safe word?” he asked, the question a gentle reminder of the trust that formed the foundation of what was about to unfold.

His eyes left yours momentarily, tracing the contours of your expression as if seeking any lingering traces of hesitation. You met his gaze with a timid nod, the ghost of a smile beginning to tug at your lips. “Mercy,” you whispered, the word carrying with it a promise of trust, a signal that you were still willing to journey into this new, uncharted territory with him. 

Minho’s smile widened, a reflection of the satisfaction and joy that your willingness brought him. It was a smile that held a thousand promises, a smile that reassured you of the care he would take as he led you further into this passionate exploration. In that smile, you saw not just a lover, but a guide, someone who would hold you through the most intense moments and bring you safely to the other side. And as you both prepared to step into this new chapter together, the connection between you deepened, wrapped in the shared understanding that, no matter what, you were in this together.

Minho rose to his feet, and your eyes couldn’t help but follow the fluid motion of his form, tracing the contours of his body as he moved with a quiet, unspoken elegance. Every inch of him was a masterpiece, a living testament to the beauty that lies in the harmony of strength and grace. As he made his way behind you, you allowed yourself to drink in the sight of him, this man who stood before you like a vision of divine perfection. His naked form, something you had always admired, seemed almost otherworldly in its beauty, a reflection of the statues of ancient gods that once graced the grand temples of old.

Minho’s physique was a study in contrasts, lean yet muscular, with each muscle defined in a way that spoke of both power and restraint. His body was a work of art, chiseled with the same care and precision that an ancient sculptor might have applied to marble, capturing the very essence of masculine beauty. Every movement he made was deliberate, infused with a quiet confidence that spoke of his inner strength. There was a grace in the way he carried himself, an elegance that made your knees tremble with admiration, as if you were in the presence of a god who needed no words to command the space around him.

The sharp lines of his jaw were a testament to the precision with which nature had crafted him, a strong and unwavering feature that brought to mind the angular perfection of the statues that had survived the ages. It was a defining trait, one that spoke of the strength and resolve that lay beneath the surface, and you couldn’t help but marvel at how perfectly it seemed to fit him, as if he had been carved by the hands of an ancient artisan intent on embodying the ideal of masculine beauty.

And then there were his hands, the part of him you cherished most. Those hands, both graceful and strong, were like those of a Greek statue, crafted with a care that reflected both power and delicacy. Whether they were guiding him through the fluid movements of a dance or exploring every inch of your body with a precision that drove you to the edge of insanity, his hands conveyed an artistry that was unparalleled. They spoke of his physical prowess, of his ability to channel his strength into the most delicate of touches, and in those moments, you could feel the depth of his connection to you, as if his very soul was intertwined with yours.

Lee Minho, the man who held your heart in his hands, was a raw beauty to behold, a living embodiment of the divine made flesh. His presence, his very essence, was something that captivated you, drawing you in like a moth to a flame, and as you gazed upon him, you couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of awe at the man who stood before you, a man whose soul you firmly believed was tied to yours in a bond that was as unbreakable as it was beautiful.

Your bare skin ignited with a fiery sensation the very moment Minho's warm, naked torso pressed firmly against your back. His presence was a comforting weight, his legs resting on either side of your crossed limbs, encasing you in a protective embrace. You could feel his breath, warm and gentle, fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending shivers racing down your spine. As he reached around you, his hands moved with a deliberate tenderness, uncrossing your legs with a fluid grace that left you breathless. The moment his strong legs pinned yours beneath him, you felt an exhilarating surge of vulnerability and trust. His touch was a soothing balm, and as your skin prickled with tiny bumps in response, you surrendered yourself to his guidance, allowing him to mold your body however he wished.

A featherlight kiss brushed the nape of your neck, his plump lips barely grazing your skin, yet the sensation was enough to draw a muted gasp from your parted lips. Minho gently pulled you back, easing you into his embrace until your full weight rested against him, your back flush with his chest. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, and you found yourself biting back a moan as his warmth seeped into your very being. 

Minho had only just begun to touch you, yet already the worries that had once plagued your mind — whether large or small, old or new — began to dissolve, fading into the background as your thoughts grew quieter. With each passing second, you felt your mind and body gradually submit to the serene headspace Minho had so patiently explained to you before. He had been right; there truly was nothing that compared to the bliss of surrendering every burden, every lingering doubt, to the gentle pleasure that was slowly consuming your senses. 

Time seemed to blur as he held you close, his strong arms wrapped securely around your chest, anchoring you in the moment. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the soft rise and fall of his breathing became your world, a lullaby that lulled you deeper into tranquility. You reached up, fingers trembling slightly as you interlaced them with his, feeling the warmth and strength in his grasp. In his embrace, you found a sanctuary, a place where you could lose yourself completely, letting go of everything except the profound connection you shared with him. 

It took a moment for you to realize that Minho had begun gently rocking your bodies from side to side, his embrace warm and secure, as though he was cradling your very soul. His breath, warm against your ear, sent waves of desire coursing through you, a passion so intense it bordered on painful. His voice, soft and tender, murmured words that sent shivers down your spine. "Your pretty head is already so empty, baby," he whispered, each word laced with adoration. "You're doing so good for me already." As his lips trailed tender kisses along every inch of your exposed skin, you instinctively squeezed his fingers, your silent way of letting him know you were still present, still with him. 

Minho’s fingers tightened around yours in response, a comforting reassurance that melted any lingering doubts. "I can't thank you enough for trusting me like this," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine reverence. "It’s such an honor to share this moment with you." The delicacy of his words sent a soft whine escaping from your lips, quickly turning into a moan that echoed the vulnerability you felt in his presence. With a final, lingering kiss pressed onto your shoulder, Minho slowly unwrapped his arms from around your torso, his touch lingering like the ghost of a warm embrace. 

He shifted his position with a graceful ease, one knee sinking to the floor while the other foot remained firmly planted, his body hovering over yours like a guardian angel. His eyes, filled with a quiet intensity, never left yours as he reached for the rope that had been momentarily forgotten between you. With practiced care, he began working the rope free from its tight spiral, each loop unfurling in a fluid motion until it lay in a long, taut line behind you. 

With a few measured tugs, Minho folded the length in half, aligning the two ends with meticulous precision before letting the rope rest lazily over one of your shoulders. The looped end of the rope was held between his teeth, a playful glint in his eyes as he let the rough texture brush against your overly sensitive skin. The sensation sent your breath hitching, your heartbeat quickening in anticipation of what was to come. Every fiber of your being was attuned to him, to the way his touch promised both restraint and release, as you surrender yourself completely to the moment, to Minho.

Once the rope was positioned just right, Minho wasted no time in pressing his firm chest against your back once more. The warmth of his skin sent a comforting shiver through you, and as his body began to sway, it felt as though you were both caught in an entrancing dance. Slowly, he guided you into a series of circular motions, the gentle rhythm lulling you deeper into a shared trance. The way he moved with you was like a carefully choreographed ballet, each step measured and intentional, designed to draw out the pleasure simmering just beneath the surface.

As Minho pinned your arms beneath his own, a surge of instinct had you clutching the back of his thighs, seeking an anchor in the storm of sensations that were building between you. The heat of the moment intensified, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that washed over you with each of Minho’s expert touches. His hands, strong yet tender, guided your movements, and the synergy between your bodies grew with every slow, deliberate motion. The connection was so deep, so visceral, that you lost track of time, completely immersed in the dance of your shared intimacy.

At some point, you became aware that your legs had returned to their original x-patterned position. The realization came just as Minho’s hands, heavy with intent yet comforting in their touch, pressed against your feet. He let them linger there for a moment before slowly, sensually, dragging them up the length of your legs. His fingers caressed your inner thighs, ghosting over your aching arousal, teasing you with the promise of more. Finally, his hands found their home on your waist, and the sensation was so overwhelming that a guttural moan escaped your lips, raw and unbidden. 

Your head fell back against Minho’s shoulder, your eyes fluttering open for a brief second. Through the haze of desire, you caught sight of his gaze — an all-consuming love that pierced through the fog of your mind, grounding you in the moment. The way his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that spoke of both passion and devotion, sent a shiver down your spine. You reached out with a trembling hand to squeeze his bicep, offering a blissed-out grin in return, a silent acknowledgment of the profound connection you shared. Then, with a soft sigh, you let your eyes drift closed once more, allowing yourself to sink back into the warmth of his embrace, the intimacy of this moment enveloping you completely.

A few moments passed in this heavenly embrace, each second stretching into eternity as you basked in the warmth of Minho’s touch. The world outside seemed to melt away, leaving only the two of you entwined in this intimate dance. But then, the gentle hold on your waist faded, replaced by the firm yet careful grip of Minho's hands as they moved to capture your wrists. With a tender precision, he brought them together in front of your body, the motion so fluid it felt almost like an extension of the dance you were sharing.

He held your wrists together with one hand, a possessive yet loving grasp that sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins. His free hand trailed up the length of your arm, a ghostly touch that left your skin tingling in its wake, before finding its place in your hair. His fingers wove through the strands, gripping just firmly enough to draw a moan from your lips. It wasn't painful — far from it — but the pressure was just enough to remind you of the power he held, the control he wielded over your body and senses.

The rhythmic, circular motions he had so carefully orchestrated came to an abrupt stop, leaving you breathless with anticipation. Then, with a controlled force, Minho pushed both of your bodies forward, guiding you down until your chest and stomach were pressed firmly against the ground. Your knees spread to the sides, a position that left you utterly vulnerable and exposed, and the raw, guttural moan that tore from your throat was a testament to the overwhelming arousal that flooded your senses.

As your mind struggled to catch up with this new, intoxicating position, Minho's warm body followed yours, his presence a constant, grounding force. The sensation of his naked flesh draping over your folded form sent shivers of pleasure coursing down your spine, each touch amplifying the closeness you shared. The weight of him pressed against your overly sensitive skin was both a comfort and a thrill, intensifying the already electric connection between you. It was as though every inch of your body was attuned to his, every nerve ending alive with the sensation of Minho, his touch, his breath, his very essence surrounding you, holding you captive in this moment of pure, unbridled intimacy.

Despite the rope held between his teeth, Minho managed to press a tender kiss onto your flushed cheek, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver down your spine. As his lips lingered, you felt the first tentative grind of his hardened arousal against your lower back, the intimate friction igniting a new wave of sensation that rippled through your body. The slow, deliberate movement caused both of you to rock back and forth in a rhythm that was as mesmerizing as it was intoxicating, a silent dance that spoke of unspoken desires and deepening connection.

Your mouth fell open in a wordless gasp, your senses immediately drowning in the overwhelming pleasure that blossomed from this newfound contact. Each subtle shift of his hips against you sent shockwaves of arousal spiraling through your core, leaving you painfully wet and clenching around the emptiness inside, desperate for more. The need within you grew with every passing second, a relentless ache that only intensified as your body responded to his touch with soft whines and gasps, spilling from your lips without restraint.

Your eyelids crinkled in pleasure, brows knitting together as your mind struggled to keep up with the storm of sensations crashing over you. But any semblance of control was quickly lost as you felt Minho's hardened length begin to leak onto your lower back, the warmth of his arousal mingling with your own fevered skin. The combination was electrifying, a heady mix of intimacy and desire that left you trembling. 

Minho’s breathing grew strained, the steady rhythm faltering as he momentarily lost himself in his own pleasure, the sound of it like a raw, primal symphony that echoed in your ears. The very air between you crackled with the intensity of the moment, each breath, each touch, each whisper of fabric against skin drawing you deeper into the vortex of sensation that consumed you both. And as the two of you rocked together, moving in perfect unison, it felt as though nothing else existed beyond the boundaries of this shared moment, this exquisite blend of passion and connection.

However, the fleeting pleasure of Minho's grinding against your lower back was soon replaced by a new sensation as he shifted positions once again. His movements were deliberate, yet unhurried, as he slowly pulled away, the grinding coming to a hesitant halt. The rope that had been held between his teeth now trailed gently across the expanse of your back, leaving a tingling path in its wake. The sensation was enough to elicit a soft moan from your lips, a sound that only deepened when Minho's fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you back into the solid warmth of his chest. His grip was firm yet tender, sending ripples of electricity across your skin, each pulse intensifying the connection between you.

The way your body instinctively melted into each of Minho's silent commands was intoxicating, a surrender that felt both empowering and liberating. In his hands, you felt safe, cherished, and utterly consumed by the depth of your shared intimacy. There was no need to worry or overthink, as your soul-tied lover had taken control of every aspect of your pleasure, guiding you with a deftness that only heightened your arousal with every passing second. The trust between you was palpable, a silent understanding that allowed you to let go completely, to revel in the sensations that Minho was expertly crafting.

Your awareness of his actions dimmed as you lost yourself in the familiar rhythm of your bodies moving in perfect unison. The steady rocking was a dance of pure sensation, each movement a testament to the deep connection you shared. It wasn't long before you felt Minho's hand release its hold on your hair, and your dazed eyes fluttered open, curiosity piqued by the change in his touch. His free hand joined the other, which had been holding both of your wrists, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as the rope glided smoothly over your skin, its texture a reminder of the gentle power Minho wielded over you.

With slow, deliberate movements, Minho began to wrap the rope around your wrists, his expert hands tying the first knot with a precision that was both arousing and reassuring. The pressure of the rope was firm, enough to make you feel bound, yet not tight enough to cause discomfort. It was a tender introduction, a prelude to what was to come, and the anticipation of it sent a thrill through your body. The way Minho's hands moved with such care and intention made it clear that this was only the beginning, and the thought of what lay ahead left you breathless, your heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of your shared desire.

Your breath catches as Minho's teeth graze your earlobe, a playful nip that sends a shiver down your spine. He'd just secured the first knot around your wrists, tugging lightly to ensure it held firm. The binding was precise, a testament to his careful attention. "How are we feeling, my love?" he murmured, his voice softer than a whisper, as though the very air around you would break if he spoke too loudly. Even through the fog of your bliss, you managed a silent nod, your senses dulled yet heightened by the intimacy of the moment. Minho's quiet chuckle warmed your heart, its gentle timbre resonating deep within you.

Releasing his grip on your wrists, Minho didn't pause in the rhythmic sway of your bodies. His hands moved with purpose, trailing up and down your arms in a tender effort to ground you in the here and now. The sensation was electric, a soothing contrast to the growing intensity between you. "Use your words for me," he coaxed, his tone a mix of gentle insistence and deep affection. "I need to know you're here with me." The sheer tenderness in his voice drew a whimper from your lips, the weight of your love for him pressing heavily on your chest.

As his chin came to rest softly on your shoulder, you tilted your head just enough to meet his gaze. His expression was one of pure serenity, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched you. The sight of him, so calm and full of love, made your heart swell, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of crimson. With a small, almost shy smile, you whispered, "I'm here. I'm with you." The words were meant for him alone, a quiet reassurance that you were still present, still grounded in this moment with him.

Minho's smile widened at your response, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was as sweet as it was brief. "Are you comfortable?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of discomfort, any hint that you were anything less than utterly content. But all he found was the evidence of your mind blissfully clouded, your expression soft and open. You managed another nod, followed by a whispered "yes," the word barely more than a breath. He hummed in satisfaction, pressing a kiss to your temple before his hand moved to rest against your throat.

The shift in his touch brought a new intensity to the moment, his wrist firm against your throat as he quickened the pace of your shared rhythm. The atmosphere in the room thickened, the air heavy with the weight of your connection. "My love," he murmured into your ear, his breath warm against your sensitive skin, sending another shiver through you. "From this point forward, I will be picking up the pace. Just keep in mind that I adore you completely, so if you need me to stop, all you have to do is use the safe word, and I will do as asked. Please nod your head if you understand this, baby. I need you to stay here with me."

The gentle pleading in his voice tugged at your heart, and you felt an overwhelming surge of emotion. His concern, his care, it all spoke to the depth of his feelings for you. With a soft yet firm resolve, you met his gaze, your eyes locking onto his with an intensity that mirrored his own. Slowly, you nodded, the movement small but full of assurance.

Minho's eyes softened further, the relief evident as he leaned in to capture your lips once more in a kiss that was both tender and full of promise. This moment, this connection between you, was more than just physical—it was a profound expression of the love and trust you shared. As the kiss deepened, the rhythm of your bodies followed suit, each movement syncing perfectly with the other, a dance of intimacy that enveloped you both.

Minho presses another gentle kiss to your temple, a soft, unspoken acknowledgment of your consent. The delicate touch of his lips sends a soothing warmth through you, a silent promise of care and affection. Using the wrist he had previously rested against your neck, he gently guides your head back to rest on his shoulder, his touch both tender and commanding. At the same time, he lifts your wrists slightly by the ropes binding them, a subtle shift that draws you closer to him.

As your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the intensity of the moment, you feel yourself being enveloped by the sensations surrounding you. Minho's movements become a rhythm you can't help but follow, his hips coaxing you to roll your own in an erotic dance reminiscent of the way you move when seated on his lap. The heat of his skin meets the tender, restrained touch of your tied hands, and you instinctively let your fingers brush against his cheek, a soft caress that makes his breath hitch—a delightful response to your affectionate gesture amidst the consuming passion.

You begin to roll your hips in sync with Minho’s guiding movements, the rhythm now an unspoken dance between you. Shifting your head, you nestle your face into the curve of his neck, the closeness a balm to your senses. With swift, practiced motions, Minho directs your bound hands to move in a semi-circle in front of you, a motion that feels like a step in a choreographed routine. The pace of your bodies swaying together grows more urgent and intense, your breaths becoming sharp, matching Minho's as the anticipation of the moment electrifies every nerve in your body. 

As soon as your tied hands completed their arc from one side to the other, Minho eased back, allowing your pliant body to drape across his strong thigh. The soft, powerful support of his leg cradled you, and you surrendered completely to the enveloping tranquility that your mind floated upon. With your eyes still closed, you surrendered to the all-encompassing serenity that seemed to cocoon you.

Once you were settled on his thigh, Minho used his other leg to gently spread your knees further apart. A soft moan, which quickly morphed into a whine, escaped your lips as his firm hand pressed against your chest and traveled slowly down to cup your drenched arousal. But just as quickly, he withdrew, leaving you in a state of aching anticipation.

Minho shifted his body slightly, pulling you closer with the rope that bound your wrists. A hand guided your head forward, and you reluctantly opened your eyes to meet his intense gaze. His eyes, soft yet laden with a dark anticipation, locked onto yours as he resumed the sensual, circular rocking of your bodies. The tender yet unyielding rhythm of his movements sent shivers down your spine, and you felt a thrill at the shift in his gaze, a potent blend of tenderness and longing.

Leaning forward, Minho pushed you backward until your head nearly touched the ground, his lips parting in a teasing promise. Instinctively, you parted your own lips, expecting a kiss, but instead, he breathed into your mouth, the warm, intoxicating air a seductive caress as his eyes remained locked on yours. Just as abruptly, he pulled away, pressing you back firmly against his chest, leaving both of you breathless. 

Your cheeks pressed together, and a thrilling shiver raced up your spine as you watched Minho pull the rope tighter, binding your wrists securely against your chest. The sensation of the rope against your skin, combined with the proximity of his body and the intensity of his gaze, created a heady, intoxicating blend of pleasure and anticipation that left you utterly enraptured.

As the session deepens, Minho maintains a steady rhythm, swaying your bodies together in perfect harmony. His skilled hands move with deliberate grace, meticulously tying the rope to ensure your hands remain securely pressed against your chest. The rope's embrace is both encompassing and protective, each knot and loop placed with exquisite care. Minho pauses occasionally, his eyes soft yet attentive, as if silently checking in on you.

The rope winds its way around your shoulders, torso, and then descends to your thighs, hips, and legs. Each pass of the rope feels grounding and intense, its firm grip holding your legs apart to reveal your glistening core. The tightening sensation of the rope, combined with Minho’s unwavering presence, envelops you in a profound sense of vulnerability and trust. As Minho finishes the intricate tying, the final knot meticulously placed, you become aware of the intensity of the emotions coursing through you. A few tears have traced paths down your cheeks, each one tenderly kissed away by Minho.

With a gentle sigh, Minho allows you to rest on the ground, still bound but comforted. He kneels beside you, his eyes sparkling with admiration as he interlocks his fingers with one of yours. His gaze is filled with a tender appreciation for the intricate work he has completed. Leaning in, he presses a soft, loving kiss to your lips, his free hand caressing your hair with affectionate strokes. Despite the bonds that encircle you, there’s an astonishing sense of relaxation that washes over your body, a profound feeling of safety you’ve never experienced before.

The realization of how deeply safe and cherished you feel brings fresh tears to your eyes. Minho coos softly, his voice a gentle balm to your soul, as he kisses away each tear with a tenderness that rekindles your love for him. This renewed affection is even more intense and consuming than before. In a moment of pure connection, you turn your head to capture his lips in a kiss filled with tender passion, a testament to the profound bond you share.

What began as a tender kiss soon transformed into an urgent expression of unrestrained desire. Each touch of your lips against Minho’s was imbued with growing desperation, your moans escaping into the intoxicating dance of your shared kiss. His breath, once controlled, now came in ragged gasps, a stark testament to the fervor that had taken hold. As your previously clouded thoughts cleared, all that remained was an all-consuming craving for his body.

Though your hands were bound tightly against your chest, your fingertips clawed into his chiseled torso, digging in as though to silently convey your deep-seated needs. Minho’s groans were a symphony of pleasure, his brows knitting together as he relished the sting of your touch. The closeness between you was so profound that it blurred the lines of where one of you began and the other ended. This intoxicating proximity had you pressing your hips fervently against his, the ropes he had so meticulously wrapped around your hips digging into both of your heated skins, enhancing the fervor of the moment.

You luxuriated in the way his hands roamed over your bound body, pausing to explore the ropes before continuing their journey. Minho’s movements were deliberate, a testament to his careful attention to your every reaction. He eventually positioned himself between your tied knees, his eyes gleaming with a hunger that made you shiver with anticipation. His gaze lingered, taking in the sight of your flushed, sweat-drenched skin and the rhythm of your chest rising and falling as you panted.

A moan, almost drunken in its intensity, escaped Minho’s lips as his eyes fell upon your achingly drenched arousal. “God, you’re already so deliciously wet for me,” he murmured softly, his voice thick with admiration. You responded with a desperate whine, arching your hips upwards in a silent plea for him to meet your needs. His eyes softened at your response, and he leaned in to place a brief, affectionate kiss on your lips before trailing his mouth downward. His kisses, messy and fervent, left a heated trail along your skin, heightening the intensity of the moment as he continued to explore.

You writhed beneath his touch, your mouth parting as a continuous stream of moans and gasps spilled forth. Every sensation was magnified by the ropes binding your body, which restricted your movements and made it challenging to maintain eye contact with him. When his breath, warm and tantalizing, brushed against your throbbing core, a cry of delight escaped your lips. 

"Min, please," you whispered, your first unprompted plea since this passionate encounter began. The sound of your desperate request drew Minho's gaze upward, his eyes now burning with an even more insatiable hunger. "Please, baby," you continued to beg, your voice faltering as you struggled to articulate the depth of your need. "I need you, please, I really need—"

Your words were abruptly cut off by a loud, guttural moan that tore from your throat as Minho's exquisite lips finally made contact with your sensitive clit. The sensation of his lips enveloping and gently sucking, exactly as you had longed for, was electrifying. His touch was slow and deliberate, his movements methodical, each caress sending waves of unparalleled pleasure crashing over you. 

Minho's tongue danced along the edges of your core, and you bucked your hips into his face, seeking more of the intoxicating sensation. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped your tied hands, a desperate attempt to ground yourself amidst the overwhelming pleasure. When his fingers finally entered the warmth of your aching arousal, your eyes fluttered back, a primal moan escaping you as another wave of ecstasy surged through your body.

In the past, you might have confidently declared that Minho was an exceptional lover, but the present moment redefined your understanding of his skill. His fingers moved with a slow, deliberate rhythm, a pace that was both torturous and exquisite, plunging in and out of you with an intensity that left you breathless. The sensation was so overwhelmingly blissful that it eclipsed any previous experience, tightening your lower abdomen with a fervor you had never known.

Minho’s gaze was a palpable force, watching you intently as you arched your back in response to his relentless exploration of that sensitive, perfect spot inside you. His free hand pressed firmly against your abdomen, enhancing the pressure and making each thrust of his fingers feel even more profound. Meanwhile, his mouth returned to your pulsing clit, lavishing it with tender, expert attention.

The building pressure in your abdomen reached a crescendo, and you were overwhelmed by a powerful wave of pleasure that swept through your convulsing body. Minho's voice reached you as though from a great distance, his words muffled and indistinct amidst the roaring storm of your climax. Your focus remained solely on the rhythmic motion of his fingers, which continued to move deliberately in and out of you, guiding you through the final throes of your release.

As the waves of pleasure began to recede, Minho withdrew his fingers, and you watched with a mixture of awe and lingering desire as he brought them to his mouth. He cleaned your arousal with a slow, savoring sweep of his tongue, his eyes never leaving you as he did so. The sight of him tasting you, coupled with the remnants of your own pleasure on his lips, left you breathless and yearning for more.

As your breathing gradually evened out, Minho’s form loomed over you, his presence both commanding and tender. He crawled with a deliberate slowness, the heat of his hardened length brushing against your stomach with each movement. Supporting himself on his forearms, which framed either side of your head, and balancing on his knees that bracketed your hips, he created an intimate cocoon of sensation and anticipation.

Minho’s eyes sparkled with a gleeful satisfaction as he gazed down at you, a radiant smile lighting up his face. The sight of him made your cheeks flush with a warm, bashful hue, and you responded to his smile with one of your own, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his gaze. Yet, each time his aching, hardened core brushed against your skin, a hitch in his breath made it clear that the night’s pleasures were far from over. The renewed flutter of arousal in your own still-sensitive core sent a thrilling shiver through you.

“You were mesmerizing just now,” Minho murmured, his voice a soft whisper meant solely for your ears. The intimacy of his words deepened the blush on your cheeks, and rather than voicing a response, you pressed your lips to his in a fervent kiss. It was a silent plea for more, a desperate declaration of your lingering need for him. The intensity of your kiss drove Minho to groan deeply, his hips settling onto your pelvis. You felt the undeniable heat of his hardness and the telltale slickness that marked his need.

The contact elicited a shared moan from both of you, and you instinctively arched your hips upwards, meeting his body with an eager urgency. Minho shifted his weight to one arm, his free hand gently cradling your jaw as he pulled away just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze held a silent question, one that was answered by your breathless plea. “Please, Min, I’ve never felt so good,” you panted, “I want to have all of you, please.”

His eyes softened with understanding, and he leaned in to capture your lips once more. The hand that had held your jaw now descended, wrapping around his aching arousal. He groaned deeply at the touch, momentarily pausing to steady himself before he began to pump his length, spreading his own wetness and heightening his anticipation. When he finally pressed the tip of his length against your core, the breath between you both became a held moment of shared expectation.

With a careful, measured thrust, Minho sheathed himself fully inside you. Your eyes rolled back in your head as his tip found that sensitive spot with a precise, overwhelming pressure. Your back arched instinctively, seeking deeper connection. Minho’s forehead pressed against yours, his face contorted in a mixture of pleasure and intensity. His groans vibrated through you as he surrendered to the enveloping warmth of your pulsing tightness, the sensation of being within you driving him to the edge of his control.

Though Minho was often the type to drive you to the edge with relentless, vigorous thrusts that had you chanting his name like a sacred mantra, tonight was a different kind of exploration—one that delved deeply into the emotional connection you shared. This evening was about savoring the intimacy and connection between you.

The ropes that Minho had meticulously bound around your body pressed gently against your skin, creating a delicious tension that made your blood hum with heightened sensation. Each touch of the rope intensified the bliss that flowed through you, amplifying the pleasure you felt with every slow, deliberate motion of Minho’s hips. He would draw back just enough to tease, then push back into you with a depth that elicited soft, breathy moans from your lips.

Minho, too, was caught in the throes of this more tender passion. His eyes struggled to remain open as the pleasure overtook him, pulling him deeper into the shared experience. When you felt the telltale twitch of his length inside you, it was clear that he was nearing his peak. Determined to enhance the moment, you began to move your hips in time with his, each motion guided by the need to match his rhythm. Your moans grew louder as your sensitive clit grazed against his pelvis, driving both of you toward the precipice.

As Minho’s thrusts became more erratic and fevered, his control slipping as he chased his climax, the intensity between you both surged. Finally, with a thrust that struck your sensitive spot with a forceful precision, you both were pulled into an intimate, breathless crescendo. In that climactic moment, you pressed together, bodies entwined, as you both reached the peak of your pleasure simultaneously.

As the intensity of your shared passion began to wane, minutes slipped by in a languid haze. Your breath gradually settled, finding its rhythm once more, while Minho tenderly withdrew his softened length from your still-throbbing core. The room was infused with a soft glow, and you admired the way Minho’s skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat, a testament to the fervor of your union. You scarcely registered the sweet, murmured praises he offered as he meticulously began to untie the ropes that had bound you so intimately.

Your mind was still enveloped in the intoxicating fog of your shared ecstasy, yet every fiber of your being was alight with a blazing warmth that spoke of deep affection. “I love you, Min,” you breathed out, gently interrupting his gentle murmurings. His head snapped up at the sound of your voice, and his eyes softened with a tenderness that made your heart skip a beat. The unspoken emotion between you was palpable, and you continued, “Thank you for taking care of me. You have no idea how much I love you.”

As Minho unfastened the final knot securing your wrists, you did not hesitate. You drew him closer, enveloping him in a wordless embrace that conveyed a depth of emotion words could not capture. The silence of the moment spoke volumes, a shared connection that transcended language, as you both held each other tightly, savoring the quiet after the storm of your passion.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

choose what you want to read!

ꖛ ꙳꯬ 🦇 ‘till forever falls apart 𓂅 ໋⋅

‧₊° pairing. han jisung x idol!fem!reader

‧₊° content warnings. han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression. reader has fibromyalgia. constant mention of being in pain. love-making. cussing. lots of angst. more to be added.

‧₊° rating. 18+

‧₊° summary. in which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.

EDIT: It’s in progress! Click on the title to read!

ꖛ ꙳꯬ 🌅 i can’t change 𓂅 ໋⋅

‧₊° pairing. bisexual!lee felix x male!reader

‧₊° content warnings. abuse, violence, homophobia conversion therapy, angst, mlm relationship, drug use (nothing too heavy, drinking, running away, smut, anal sex, blow job, rimming, fingering, semi-public sex

‧₊° rating. 18+

‧₊° summary. humanity was simply not made to reach the glorious sky without needing to return to the ground, this is a simple fact that both felix and y/n needed to learn one way or another. still, when each glance gets you drunk with a feeling you’d never quite experienced before, you can’t help but risk everything for his affection.

ꖛ ꙳꯬ 🏫 the only exception 𓂅 ໋⋅

‧₊° pairing. student!seungmin x student!fem!reader

‧₊° content warnings. brutal attack and kidnapping. death is mentioned a lot in different ways. neglectful parent. plot twist.

‧₊° rating: 16+

‧₊° summary. after her mother gets suddenly kidnapped right before her eyes, and her father didn’t seem to care enough, y/n embarks on a mission to save her mother with a strange boy from school to help along the journey.

reblog to spread the word!

❤️ TONIGHT IS ABOUT YOU ( xdinary heroes )

❛ Amidst a night of rekindled romance and sensual pleasure, you and Gunil embrace each other’s desires, finding solace and excitement in your intense and heartfelt reunion.

𝐠𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐥 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 18 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Requested by the wonderful 🍀 Anon! This is was honestly so sickeningly sweet to write, I really enjoyed this one since it ended up being so soft. I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, Y/N had gone out drinking but is sober by the time they return home, Gunil's been working a lot so he hasn't been home much, romantic and soft smut, handjob, blowjob, profanity, brief mention of Y/N also receiving oral but we don't to read that part, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

As you carefully slide your shoes off, the familiar hush of your home envelops you, the stillness a stark contrast to the night's revelry. The soft padding of your feet against the cool floor seems amplified in the quiet, and with deliberate care, you place your shoes onto the rack by the entrance. The late hour presses down on you, a reminder to tread softly, mindful not to disturb the peaceful sanctuary that awaits within.

The night had been nothing short of a whirlwind, each moment buzzing with energy and laughter as you and your friends flitted from one bar to the next. Yet now, as you stand in the silence of your apartment, the weight of exhaustion begins to settle in, your body finally yielding to the fatigue that the evening’s adrenaline had kept at bay. It had been ages since you last indulged in such carefree escapades, and the memory of tonight’s adventures lingers warmly, even as the comfort of home beckons you to unwind.

As you quietly peek into the living room, a tender warmth blooms in your chest at the sight that greets you. There, illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of the television, is your boyfriend, Gunil, fast asleep on the couch. The dim light casts gentle shadows across his serene features, highlighting the peacefulness of his slumber. The quiet hum of the TV is the only sound filling the room, a soothing backdrop to the stillness that envelops your home.

Gunil’s hand still loosely grips the remote, a small detail that tugs at your heartstrings. His head is tilted back, resting awkwardly against the couch in a position that must be anything but comfortable. His body remains seated, as if he had only intended to wait a little longer for your return before drifting off. The sight of him like this, so unguarded and patient, fills you with a deep affection that makes you smile softly to yourself.

As you move closer, you hear the gentle rhythm of his snores, a sound that only deepens your affection for him. With careful steps, you lower yourself onto the floor in front of him, making sure not to disturb his peaceful rest. The close proximity allows you to take in the little details—the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his lips are slightly parted in sleep, and the way his hair, tousled from the evening, frames his face. In this quiet moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in the comforting stillness of the night.

It had been far too long since you last indulged in a night out with your friends, a reality that hadn’t escaped Gunil’s attention. Sensing your hesitation when the invitation arrived, he had gently urged you to go, reminding you of how much you needed a break, especially to celebrate your friend’s birthday at the club. His encouragement had been the nudge you needed, and as the night unfolded, you found yourself immensely grateful for his insistence. Despite your initial reluctance, the evening turned out to be filled with laughter, music, and the kind of carefree joy that only comes from being surrounded by good company.

As the memories of the night swirl in your mind, you realize that the buzz from the drinks you had at the club has long since faded, leaving behind only a pleasant sense of contentment. Yet, as you watch Gunil now, asleep on the couch, a gentle ache settles in your chest. His peaceful expression, softened by the flickering light of the television, stirs something within you—a reminder of how long it’s been since the two of you have truly connected. The demands of his career, particularly with the release of his new album, have kept him busy, and each time he returned home, it was with an exhaustion that left little room for anything else.

But now, as you sit quietly in front of him, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope. With the album finally out and his schedule beginning to clear, the possibility of reconnecting, of spending those precious moments together, seems closer than ever. The thought brings a soft smile to your lips, a promise of the warmth and affection that will soon fill the spaces that have felt empty for far too long.

Without a second thought, you find yourself leaning forward, gently resting your chin on his knee. The soft warmth of his skin beneath you, combined with the steady rise and fall of his breathing, anchors you in this quiet, intimate moment. Your eyes, filled with affection, remain fixed on him, drinking in every detail of his serene expression. 

A small stir from him catches your attention, and you watch as his brows knit together in that familiar, endearing way that always tugs at your heartstrings. A sleepy groan escapes his lips as he begins to rouse from slumber, the sound muffled yet comforting in the stillness of the room. As he slowly becomes aware of your presence, his eyes flutter open, and you’re met with a gaze that seems to glow with recognition and warmth.

The sight of his sleepy smile, soft and genuine, breathes a new vitality into you, chasing away the remnants of fatigue from your night out. “Baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick and husky with the remnants of sleep, each word wrapped in tenderness. “How was tonight?” His question, simple yet filled with care, wraps around you like a warm embrace, making you feel cherished in a way that only he can.

You remain with your head nestled on his knee, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. He doesn’t move to displace you; instead, he leans forward, his movement gentle and unhurried, to press a tender kiss against your forehead. The touch of his lips is soft, a quiet promise of affection that lingers even as he pulls back to meet your gaze. His eyes hold yours with a depth of emotion that only deepens as his fingers weave through your hair, the motion soothing and filled with love.

For a moment, your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the comfort of his touch. A contented sigh escapes you, the simple pleasure of being close to him washing away any lingering traces of the evening’s excitement. You open your eyes slowly, your gaze softened by the calm that has settled over you. “It was good,” you murmur, your voice gentle as it breaks the comfortable silence. “I had a lot of fun.”

"See?" he teases, his voice laced with playful triumph. You can’t help but roll your eyes in response, a soft snort escaping you as you catch his smirk. "I knew you'd have a good time going out," he continues, the warmth in his tone making his light-hearted taunt feel more like an affectionate nudge than anything else.

With a small huff of mock indignation, you lift yourself from the floor, shifting onto your knees as you position yourself between his legs. You lean into him, using his lap for support, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his shirt. The familiar texture beneath your fingertips is comforting, grounding you in this tender moment. He lets you fidget, watching you with a gaze that holds both amusement and adoration. He’d let you do anything you wanted if you asked, and you’re fully aware of the power you hold in these small, intimate moments—something you occasionally enjoy using to your advantage.

His fingers find their way into your hair, gently twirling a strand around as he asks, "Did you drink a lot?" The question is casual, his voice low and soothing, as if he’s simply continuing a conversation from earlier in the evening.

You shake your head slightly, your answer honest. "No, I didn’t," you say, the words soft yet clear. "I wanted to be able to find my way back here safely, didn’t want to bother you." There’s a subtle undercurrent of affection in your response, a quiet acknowledgment of the care you both have for each other. The thought of him worrying or being disturbed by a late-night call was something you wanted to avoid, and your choice reflects that consideration. 

He gives you a gentle smile, his fingers continuing their slow, rhythmic twirling of your hair, and in that moment, the unspoken understanding between you both deepens, wrapping the room in a warmth that only the two of you share.

"Smart girl," he chuckles, his voice filled with warmth and amusement. "But I would’ve been more than happy to pick you up." His words are a gentle reminder of the unwavering support he always offers, a reassurance that you’ve come to cherish deeply. You knew this about him, of course, but there’s something in your nature that prefers to keep control firmly in your own hands, especially when you’re out on your own. The idea of relying on someone else, even someone as dependable as him, isn’t something you take lightly.

Yet, his words bring a soft smile to your lips. There’s a tenderness in his reassurance, a quiet promise that he would always be there for you, no matter the hour or the circumstances. His touch, warm and steady, only deepens the comfort you feel, making you melt into the moment, wrapped in the safety of his presence.

After a brief pause, during which the silence between you is filled with a shared understanding, you ask, "How was work?" Your voice is gentle, filled with genuine curiosity and care. This is the first time you’ve seen him today, and the weight of the hours spent apart lingers in the space between you. The question, simple as it is, carries with it the unspoken acknowledgment of the time and energy he pours into his work, as well as the longing you feel to reconnect after a day spent apart.

He sighed deeply, the weariness evident in the way his shoulders sagged as he leaned back into the couch. “It was okay,” he replied, but the tension in his expression betrayed the weight behind his words. You could sense there was more to it, something lingering beneath the surface that he hadn’t yet voiced.

"Most of the day was spent rehearsing," he continued, his tone carrying a hint of exhaustion. "And then I had to sit through a bunch of meetings without the other members. It was painfully boring—just the same old rules they want me to enforce now that we’ve got a little more free time since the comeback promotions are over."

As he spoke, you noticed the deep frown etched onto his face, his frustration palpable. "And it didn’t help that Dumb and Dumber were being extra annoying and troublesome," he grumbled, the familiar nicknames for his bandmates, Jiseok and Jooyeon, causing a soft giggle to escape your lips. The corners of his mouth twitched at your reaction, but the frustration still lingered.

"I don’t understand why they must take everything as a joke," he went on, shaking his head in disbelief. "I love them—please don’t get me wrong—but my gosh, do you think they know it won’t kill them to not joke around and listen for just a minute?" His voice held a mix of exasperation and fondness, the duality of his feelings toward his bandmates shining through.

As he vented, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes softened, the tension slowly ebbing away as he shared his thoughts with you. The connection between you both deepened with each word, his vulnerability allowing you to see the man behind the leader, the one who carried the weight of responsibility while still holding a deep love for those who made his life both challenging and joyful.

You nod in understanding, your expression a blend of empathy and mild amusement at the inevitable chaos Gunil’s bandmates always seem to bring. As your fingers drift to caress his lower abdomen, you notice the way his gaze lingers on your hand, the subtle flicker of something unspoken passing through his eyes before he clears his throat. You feign innocence, despite the mischievous glint in your eyes that betrays your true intentions.

“Being a leader sounds so exhausting,” you murmur softly, your voice a soothing melody that seems to ease the tension in his posture. The words hang in the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace, and you feel him physically relax under your gentle touch. For a moment, you keep your hand resting on his abdomen, the warmth of your palm seeping through the fabric of his shirt, grounding him in the present.

But then, with a playful glint in your eye, your fingers begin to travel lower, tracing delicate, shapeless patterns on his upper thighs. The touch is light, almost teasing, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere as Gunil’s breathing deepens, the sudden tension crackling between you. His eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of intoxication, a habit born from a place of care and concern. 

When he finds none, he lets out a deep sigh, a mixture of relief and anticipation, as if surrendering to the moment. The weight of the day begins to melt away, replaced by the intoxicating pull of your presence, your playful affection rekindling the connection between you in a way that words alone could never achieve.

"I missed you so much; you honestly have no idea," Gunil grunted, his voice thick with longing, his eyes darkening with desire as they bore into you. You gazed up at him through your lashes, offering a soft, innocent smile that you knew he found irresistible. The subtle curve of your lips only deepened the magnetic pull between you, the kind that had your heart quickening in anticipation.

His words lingered in the charged atmosphere, and you could feel the heat rising within you, your pulse matching the rhythm of the desire that simmered just beneath the surface. "I missed you too, baby, so much it’s not even remotely funny," you murmured, your voice low and intimate, the only sound cutting through the tense air, aside from the faint, forgotten hum of the television behind you. Your eyes remained locked on his, an unspoken understanding passing between you as the world around you faded into irrelevance.

Your core ached with need as you watched his length harden, the sight sending a thrill of power coursing through you. He hadn’t even removed his pants, and yet, his body responded to you with a raw intensity that made you revel in the control you held over him. His gaze never wavered, filled with a lust that matched your own, fueling the growing tension that crackled in the air.

"But now that you don’t have to leave me so early in the mornings for interviews and such," you murmured, your tone turning sultry, your lips curving into a slight smirk as your touch became more deliberate. You reached up to the waistband of his grey sweatpants, fingers brushing against the fabric, teasing but not yet pulling them off. "What do you say I show you just how much I missed you, huh? It'll help you destress, too."

Gunil's breath hitched at your sultry offer, a shiver of anticipation rippling through him as all rational thoughts seemed to abandon his mind. You could see the surrender in his eyes, the way his logical defenses crumbled in the face of your teasing promise. His nod was almost dumb, a testament to the overwhelming desire that clouded his judgment.

Your teasing smirk widened, a hint of mischief dancing on your lips as your hands remained firmly gripping the waistband of his sweatpants. Despite his silent consent, you made no move, savoring the way his helplessness played into your hands. "No, baby, you know better than that," you murmured gently, the words dripping with affection. "You’ve got to use your words, like the good boy I know you are." Your eyes roamed over his flushed face, admiring how his lustful neediness mixed with exhaustion to create a heady blend of desire.

"Yes," he breathed heavily, his voice a low, pleading murmur. "Show me how much you've missed me, please." There was something undeniably endearing about how easily he crumbled under your teasing touch. His plea was earnest, laced with the vulnerability that made your heart ache with tenderness.

As you saw the blissful neediness etched in his expression, combined with the weariness of his long day, you decided to indulge him. With a swift, decisive movement, you pulled his sweatpants and underwear down to his ankles in one fluid motion. A soft chuckle of endearment escaped your lips as you watched his hardened length spring free, the sight of it lightly slapping against his clothed abdomen.

Gunil groaned in relief, the sound low and guttural, but his dark, desire-filled gaze never left yours. The raw intensity of his stare only deepened the connection between you, heightening the moment with an almost palpable charge of anticipation and affection.

"Aw," you coo softly, leaning in closer to his eager core, your breath warm against his sensitive skin. "You're already so ready for me?" The playful note in your voice is tinged with genuine surprise, and you can’t help but savor the sight of his flushed, eager response.

Gunil huffs at your teasing, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—only the soft undertone of affection and vulnerability. "You know I'll always be ready like this for you," he murmurs, his voice laced with sincerity. "I can't help it." His words are a tender confession, wrapped in the promise of unending devotion.

Your heart swells with emotion, the intensity of his confession making your cheeks flush a deep crimson. The warmth that spreads across your face mirrors the fluttering sensation in your chest, making you feel both cherished and vulnerable. Gunil’s eyes twinkle with amusement, his laughter a gentle, loving sound that only deepens your blush.

In this moment, it becomes clear that the power dynamics are beautifully mutual. While you wield a tender influence over him, it’s equally true that he holds an undeniable grip on your heart. The thought of his effect on you, the way he can effortlessly bring a flush to your cheeks and a smile to your lips, fills you with a contented warmth. You wouldn’t dream of complaining about the hold he has on you; it’s a bond you cherish deeply, one that makes every touch, every word, all the more meaningful.

You wasted no time, your fingers curling around his throbbing length with a careful yet eager grip. The delicious girth of him filled your palm, a sensation that made you pause for a moment, savoring the warmth and weight of his desire. The simple touch elicited a deep, blissful groan from Gunil, causing him to momentarily throw his head back in sheer pleasure. His eyes, dark and intense, quickly snapped back to you, following your every move with a mix of anticipation and longing.

As you held him, your self-restraint slipped away, replaced by a primal desire to fully explore and enjoy the moment. Leaning in close, you allowed a deliberate drop of saliva to glide down onto the crimson-red tip of his length. The contrast of the cool, slick moisture against his heated skin caused a shiver of pleasure to run through him. You began to stroke him with a languid, almost lazy pace, yet the effect was anything but subdued. Each movement had Gunil gasping and grunting beneath you, his body reacting eagerly to the rhythm you set.

Watching him lose himself so easily in the pleasure you were giving him, a pang of nostalgia and longing settled in your chest. You recalled the last time you had seen him like this, a few months ago, before his comeback had taken him away for what felt like an eternity. The realization of how long it had been since you had shared such intimate moments together spurred you on with renewed urgency.

Quickening your pace, you used your free hand to press into his lower abdomen, holding him steady as his hips began to buck instinctively against your touch. The depth of his pleasure, the way his body responded to you, filled you with a sense of satisfaction and connection, making the moment all the more intense and precious.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gunil chanted breathlessly, his voice a low murmur of desperation as beads of sweat began to glisten on his forehead. The pleasure building within him was palpable, each wave of sensation intensifying with every passing second. Just as he reached the brink, you abruptly abandoned the steady rhythm of your hand, causing a high-pitched whine to escape his lips—an instinctive sound of frustration and longing.

You let out a soft, teasing chuckle, shifting slightly on your knees to draw closer to him. Your fingers, now slick with his arousal, wrapped around his length once more. This time, however, your touch was deliberate and slow, as you hovered just above his sensitive tip. With a playful, lingering gaze, you pressed a gentle kiss to his aching head, eliciting a guttural moan from Gunil. His hips bucked upwards, driven by a desperate yearning to feel the warmth of your mouth enveloping him.

Without making him wait, you enveloped his tip with your lips, the warmth and wetness of your mouth sending shivers of pleasure through him. Your tongue darted out, teasing and tasting, as you slowly began to sink your head downward. Gunil’s moans grew louder, each sound a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were bestowing upon him. As you descended further, your nose brushed against his pelvis, and you could feel the tip of his arousal touch the back of your throat. The sensation of him so deep within you only heightened the intensity of the moment, making the connection between you both even more profound and intimate.

Gunil’s fingers wove themselves into your hair, gripping gently yet firmly as he anchored you in place. The sensation of his touch, combined with the warmth of his arousal against your lips, was intoxicating. You luxuriated in the moment, savoring the long-awaited intimacy after such a lengthy separation. As you settled into the rhythm, you made sure to breathe through your nose and hollow out your cheeks, a subtle adjustment that heightened both your comfort and his pleasure.

“God, baby, I missed your mouth so much,” he groaned, his voice a deep rumble of need as he began to guide your head up and down his length. You acquiesced to his movements for a moment, allowing him to control the pace, feeling his pleasure build with each pass. However, a teasing glint flickered in your eyes as you decided to exert your own control. With a swift motion, you slapped his hand away and pulled back, a mix of his arousal and your saliva trickling past your lips. 

You wiped away the remnants with a deliberate, casual gesture before looking up at him with a stern yet gentle expression. “Tonight is about you relaxing, baby, so let me take care of you.” Your voice was soft but commanding, carrying the promise of indulgence. Gunil, whose disappointed whine echoed your withdrawal, nodded eagerly, his hips instinctively bucking upward in a desperate plea for your return. His eyes, clouded with a mix of desire and vulnerability, followed your every movement, silently begging for the intimacy you were poised to give.

For a few lingering moments, you admired the sight of Gunil completely consumed by his lustful desires, his every expression a testament to the pleasure you were giving him. With a delicate, practiced grace, you slid your mouth down his length until your nose brushed against his pelvis once again. This time, however, you were quick to lift your head, leaving only the tip of his arousal nestled in your mouth. 

As you resumed your rhythmic motion, your head bobbing up and down his leaking length, you allowed your tongue to dance and twirl around him, caressing every delicious vein with teasing precision. You lavished attention on his tip, sucking lightly while your tongue explored his slit, a touch that never failed to elicit a breathless cry from him. Gunil’s grip tightened on the couch cushions, his knuckles white from the strain as he fought to stay grounded.

In a shift of focus, you let your hand drift to his tightened balls, gently massaging them to enhance his pleasure. His reaction was immediate and profound; you noticed his eyes were thrown back, tightly shut, as he surrendered completely to the sensations. Gunil looked almost ethereal in this state—his chest heaving with each ragged breath, his mouth slightly agape with his tongue lolling to one side, and his muscles flexing as he refrains from taking away the control you'd so kindly requested.

The sight of him, so beautifully vulnerable and lost in ecstasy, stirred a deep ache of affection within you. Every subtle detail of his expression, every shudder of his body, made your heart swell with a yearning that was almost overwhelming. You knew, in that moment, that you wanted more—more of this intimacy, more of the exquisite connection that bound you together.

The escalating rhythm of your movements, coupled with the tender caress of your hand on his sensitive balls, quickly overwhelmed Gunil. The intensity of the moment, magnified by the prolonged separation, drove him to release a series of broken moans, each sound a testament to the powerful climax that consumed him. His grip on your head tightened, pressing you firmly against his pelvis as waves of pleasure washed over him. 

You felt the warmth of his release as it trickled down your throat, the sensation both satisfying and intensely arousing. The ache in your core grew more urgent, a desperate need that made you instinctively rub your thighs together in search of friction. It took several moments for Gunil to descend from his high, his breathing ragged and his body shivering with the aftershocks. As he finally loosened his grip, you pulled away from his softening length, savoring the lingering warmth that clung to your tongue. 

When Gunil’s eyes fluttered open, you made a deliberate show of displaying the remnants of his release before swallowing and sticking your tongue out to reveal its absence. His reaction was immediate—a deep, appreciative groan followed by a satisfied chuckle. With an affectionate tenderness, he leaned down to press a passionate kiss to your lips, a gesture that elicited a soft moan from you. His touch was gentle yet insistent as he pinched your chin lightly between his thumb and index finger, guiding you to look up at him. His gaze was filled with a love so intense it nearly took your breath away, and his smile radiated pure adoration.

“I know you said tonight was about me,” he murmured, his voice husky and roughened from pleasure, a sound that filled you with a deep sense of satisfaction. “But I missed you too much not to taste you as well.” With a swift, decisive movement, you gasped in delight as you were gently but firmly pushed onto the soft couch. Gunil now knelt eagerly before you, his gaze fixed on your drenched arousal with a hunger that mirrored the intensity of your own desires.

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🏵️ BEAUTIFUL MESS. ( xdinary heroes )

❛ After winning a bet against you, Jiseok decides that he would be the dominant one for a change...though that doesn't last long.

𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐤 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ) 4.2k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Another amazing request made by the wonderful 🍀 Anon! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, Gaon gets pegged, he's also a brat that crumbles quickly, smut, Reader uses strap, overstimulation as punishment, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

Jiseok’s intoxicating moan permeated the room, a symphony of desire that hung in the air like a heavy, sweet perfume. His body moved with an almost languid grace as he settled fully onto your lap, the weight of him grounding you in the moment. His head tipped back, exposing the elegant curve of his throat, while his lips parted in a silent cry of pleasure, capturing the very essence of his rapture.

For a heartbeat, he remained perfectly still, his body tense as he adjusted to the sensation of your strap. The room seemed to pulse with the rhythm of his breath, each exhale a testament to the intensity of the moment. The heat between you was palpable, a magnetic force drawing you closer.

Your hand moved with purpose, fingers curling around his cheeks with a commanding yet tender touch. The pads of your fingers pressed gently but firmly into his skin, guiding his gaze to meet yours. His eyes, dark and glazed with lust, locked onto yours, creating an electric connection that sent shivers down your spine. The dominance in your grip was undeniable, but it was tempered with a deep, unspoken affection, a silent promise of pleasure and trust.

Although he turned his gaze towards you as you desired, the playful glint in his eyes was a tantalizing reminder of the agreement you'd struck earlier. That sparkle of mischief was undeniable, a testament to the unspoken game that had woven itself into your intimate encounter.

His hand, warm and firm, wrapped around your wrist, pulling your touch away from his face. The loss of contact was a sharp contrast to the previous closeness, creating a sense of longing that deepened the intensity of the moment. His other hand moved with a similar purpose, capturing the ones resting on his hips and effortlessly locking them by the sides of your head.

A mean smile curled on Jiseok's lips, a blend of dominance and playful cruelty that sent a thrill through your veins. The power dynamic shifted as he asserted control, leaving you helplessly bound beneath him. The heat of his skin and the strength of his grip were both captivating and consuming.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Jiseok began to lift himself off your lap. His body arched gracefully, and another intoxicating moan escaped his lips, a sound that reverberated through the room and settled deep within you. The deliberate pace of his movements was a torment, a slow burn of pleasure and anticipation that made every second feel like an eternity.

As he descended once more, the connection between you was electric, a fusion of bodies and desires that left you breathless. The sight of him above you, the feel of his hands pinning you down, and the sound of his moans created a sensory overload, a beautifully torturous experience that bound you together in a dance of passion and control.

Watching as he shamelessly used you for his own pleasure was a stark departure from your usual dynamic, a reversal that sent a thrill of unfamiliar excitement through you. Typically, you held the reins, but now, with Jiseok in control, you found yourself on the precipice of a new and tantalizing experience. There was a fleeting moment where you almost wished you’d won the bet, to reclaim that familiar dominance, but the allure of this role reversal was undeniable.

The way his own leaking length slapped against your stomach with each glide up and down your strap was a vivid, tantalizing sensation. Each movement sent ripples of heat coursing through you, a physical manifestation of his pleasure and a reminder of your current submission. His every action, every deliberate thrust, elicited filthy, unrestrained sounds from his lips. Those moans, raw and primal, traveled down to your very core, igniting a fire that burned with intensity.

Jiseok was utterly mesmerizing. His body, a study in fluid grace and raw desire, moved with a rhythm that was both hypnotic and intoxicating. The interplay of power and vulnerability in his eyes, the way they flickered between control and surrender, held you captive. His pleasure was palpable, a living thing that enveloped you both, drawing you deeper into the moment.

The intensity of the situation was heightened by the contrast to your usual roles. The sight of him lost in ecstasy, taking what he needed from you with such shameless abandon, was a heady mix of power and submission that blurred the lines of dominance and desire. Each glide, each slap, each moan was a symphony of sensations that wove together into an exquisite tapestry of pleasure and connection.

In this moment, Jiseok was not just using you; he was unveiling a new facet of your relationship, one that was as captivating as it was unexpected. The raw honesty of his desire, the unguarded vulnerability of his pleasure, created a space where you both could explore the depths of your connection in a way that was beautifully, intoxicatingly real.

Jiseok's pace quickened, driven by an increasing neediness that was palpable in every movement. His lewd moans and groans filled the air, a symphony of raw desire that echoed around the room, amplifying the intensity of the moment. The sound of his pleasure intertwined with the rhythmic slap of his body against yours, creating an intoxicating soundtrack to your shared passion.

As his need grew, Jiseok's hands released your wrists, leaving behind the ghost of his touch. His fingers, now free, moved with an eager purpose, reaching up to grasp your breasts. The sudden shift sent a shiver down your spine, your body responding to the unexpected contact. The weight and warmth of his hands on your skin, the way they molded to the curve of your breasts, was a heady sensation that added another layer to your shared ecstasy.

Your breasts bounced in time with the rhythm he set, each movement a visual testament to the intensity of your connection. His hands, once gentle, became more assertive, groping and squeezing with a fervent hunger. The pressure of his touch, the way his fingers moved against your flesh, was an exquisite blend of pleasure and pain.

An unexpected moan tore from your lips, raw and unfiltered. The sound seemed to ignite something within Jiseok, a spark that fanned the flames of his desire. His eyes, dark with lust, gleamed with satisfaction as he heard your response. His fingers found your nipples, pinching them with expert precision, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. Each pinch, each twist, was a calculated move designed to elicit the sounds he craved from you.

Jiseok's actions were a dance of dominance and desire, a carefully choreographed performance that left you breathless and yearning for more. His hands, his touch, the way he moved—everything was a testament to his understanding of your body and the pleasure it could bring. The room pulsed with the heat of your shared passion, a heady mix of power and vulnerability that left you both on the edge of ecstasy.

“Fuck,” Jiseok panted, his voice a hoarse whisper as his eyes remained glued to your breasts, bouncing rhythmically with his every movement. His gaze was fervent, filled with a raw, unrestrained hunger as he chased his own high. “You’re so gorgeous like this,” he breathed out, the words drenched in genuine admiration and lust.

The moment his declaration reached your ears, you felt one of his hands abandon its grip on your breast, the loss of contact momentarily jarring. His fingers trailed a burning path up your torso, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before wrapping firmly around your neck. The pressure was calculated, just enough to squeeze in a way that was both erotic and thrilling. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and another moan, raw and unbidden, escaped your lips.

The sound you made seemed to resonate deeply within Jiseok, fueling the fire of his desire. His eyes, dark with intensity, widened as he took in the sight of you beneath him, your reactions heightening his own arousal. The eroticism of the moment was almost too much for him to bear; his breaths came faster, each one a ragged gasp, and his moans grew louder, filling the room with a symphony of lust.

His pace quickened, the urgency of his movements mirroring the escalation of his need. Every thrust, every squeeze of his hand around your neck, was a testament to the powerful connection you shared. The way he moved, the way he sounded, it was all a beautiful, chaotic dance of desire and dominance.

Jiseok's body tensed as he drew closer to his peak, his sounds becoming a harmonious blend of desperation and ecstasy. The sight of you, the feel of you, the sounds you made—it was all an intoxicating mix that drove him to the brink. His grip tightened slightly, just enough to send another wave of pleasure through you, his eyes locked onto yours with a fierce intensity.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist. There was only Jiseok, his need, his desire, and the incredible, electrifying connection between you. The way he looked at you, the way he moved with you, it was all a testament to the depth of your shared passion, a beautifully detailed tableau of pleasure and intimacy.

“Yeah?” you grunted, your voice a mix of challenge and desire. Deciding to take control for a moment, you bucked your hips upwards, meeting his pace with a deliberate force that sent a shockwave of pleasure through both of you. The sudden movement elicited a sharp gasp from Jiseok, his eyes widening as he seemed to teeter right on the edge of his climax.

Your actions spurred him on, pushing him closer to that precipice of ecstasy. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, each exhale a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his body. The intensity of your connection was almost palpable, a physical force that bound you together in this intimate dance.

“You love it when you use me, huh?” you taunted, your voice dripping with a provocative mix of mockery and allure. The words seemed to resonate deeply with Jiseok, his expression shifting to one of pure, unrestrained need. The provocative edge in your voice only served to heighten his arousal, pushing him further towards the brink.

“Shameless boy,” you added, your tone a sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. The term of endearment, laced with playful reproach, hung in the air between you, adding another layer to the intricate tapestry of your shared pleasure. 

Jiseok's response was visceral, a guttural moan that tore from his throat as he bucked against you with renewed fervor. His eyes, dark with lust, locked onto yours, the connection between you deepening with every passing second. The way he moved, the way he responded to your taunts, was a testament to the powerful dynamic you both shared.

In this moment, the roles of dominance and submission blurred, creating a beautifully intricate dance of power and pleasure. The heat of your bodies, the intensity of your gazes, and the raw honesty of your words all combined to create a moment of unparalleled intimacy. Jiseok’s vulnerability and shameless need, matched by your confident control, wove together to form a scene of exquisite passion that neither of you would soon forget.

Taking advantage of Jiseok's dazed state, his focus solely on his own pleasure, you slid your hand between your bodies, fingers wrapping around his leaking, sensitive length. The heat and pulsing hardness of him filled your palm, and his immediate reaction was a sharp yelp at the unexpected contact. The sound was almost sweet in its vulnerability, a stark contrast to the mischief that had previously clouded his eyes.

In that instant, the playful defiance in his gaze was replaced by a silent, desperate pleading. His eyes, wide and dark with need, locked onto yours with an intensity that made you smirk. The power shift was palpable, his bravado crumbling as his desire took over. He was so, so close to finishing—that much was obvious from the way his length twitched and pulsed in your hand, his body betraying his imminent release.

Despite his earlier bratty behavior, you decided to grant him what he so clearly craved, though not without a touch of your own mischief. With a deliberate slowness, you began to stroke him, matching the rhythm he had set for himself. Your movements were precise, calculated, designed to drive him wild with need. The contrast of your cool control against his desperate urgency created a delicious tension that heightened the intensity of the moment.

Your fingers moved expertly, each stroke sending shivers down his spine, his hips bucking instinctively in response. The feeling of his hot, slick length in your hand, combined with the sight of his face contorted in pleasure, was intoxicating. Every gasp, every shudder, was a testament to the exquisite torture you were inflicting upon him.

As you continued, his breathing grew ragged, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. The silent begging in his eyes deepened, his lips parting in a wordless plea for release. Your smirk widened, savoring the power you held over him in that moment. The combination of his need and your control created a heady, electric atmosphere that thrummed with shared desire.

With each stroke, you brought him closer to the edge, his moans growing louder, more desperate. The friction, the pace, the sheer intimacy of your touch was pushing him to his limits. The sight of him, so undone and vulnerable, was a beautiful contrast to his earlier defiance. It was a dance of dominance and submission, a beautifully orchestrated performance that left you both breathless and yearning for more.

As he teetered on the brink, his eyes begged for mercy, for release. And in that moment, you knew you had him completely, utterly at your mercy. The power was intoxicating, the control exhilarating, and the pleasure, both his and yours, was a symphony of sensation that filled the room with a palpable, electrifying energy.

Jiseok's face nuzzled into your neck, his moans loud and unabashed as he sought the comfort of your closeness. The intensity of his orgasm wracked his body, sending shudders of pleasure through him as ropes of his release stained both his stomach and yours. The heat and wetness of it created an intimate connection, a tangible reminder of the pleasure you'd just shared.

As the last tremors of his climax coursed through him, you took advantage of his dazed state, swiftly shifting your bodies so you were on top of him. The transition was seamless, a fluid motion that left him momentarily disoriented. His eyes fluttered open, confusion and surprise mingling in their depths as he processed the change in position.

His bewilderment deepened when he realized you were still buried to the hilt inside of him. The sensation of fullness, combined with the unexpected shift in dominance, sent another wave of pleasure through his already sensitized body. You couldn't help but chuckle meanly, the sound a dark, tantalizing promise of what was to come.

With deliberate slowness, you began to withdraw, watching the emotions play across his face. The startled moan that tore from his lips was music to your ears, a symphony of need and surprise that only fueled your own desire. His eyes widened, a mixture of shock and anticipation as he felt you pull out almost completely.

Then, without warning, you snapped your hips back into him, the sudden, powerful thrust drawing another moan from deep within his chest. The sensation was overwhelming, the intensity of your movement sending sparks of pleasure shooting through both of you. Each snap of your hips was a calculated strike, designed to elicit the most exquisite responses from him.

Jiseok's body responded instinctively, his back arching, his fingers clutching at the sheets as he tried to ground himself against the onslaught of sensations. His moans grew louder, more desperate, filling the room with the raw, unfiltered sounds of his pleasure. The way he writhed beneath you, the way his body reacted to every thrust, was mesmerizing.

You reveled in the control, the power you held over him in that moment. Each movement, each sound, was a testament to the depth of your connection, a beautifully orchestrated dance of dominance and submission. The pleasure was all-encompassing, a heady mix of physical sensation and emotional intensity that left you both breathless.

“Wait, wait!” Jiseok panted, his eyes wide with a mix of desperation and lingering sensitivity. “I’m still so sensitive, please!” Despite his pleas, his nails dug deliciously into the skin of your hips, urging you to stay inside him each time you attempted to pull away. The contradiction between his words and actions was intoxicating, a testament to the depths of his desire.

“Aw, is my shameless boy still sensitive?” you cooed, your tone laced with feigned sympathy as you pouted. The mockery in your voice was deliberate, a playful taunt that only heightened the intensity of the moment. Without hesitation, you picked up your pace, your movements becoming more deliberate and powerful. Jiseok responded by burying his head deeper into the pillows beneath him, his body trembling with unrestrained pleasure.

The sight of his exposed neck, so vulnerable and inviting, was too tempting to resist. You leaned in, attaching your tongue and lips to his skin, leaving a messy trail of kisses and licks that he loved. The wet, heated contact sent shivers down his spine, adding another layer to the sensory overload he was experiencing. His moans grew louder, each sound a symphony of pleasure that resonated through the room.

As you continued to thrust into him, you reached down, grabbing ahold of one of his hands. Guiding it with a firm yet gentle touch, you directed it towards his own sensitive core. The look in your eyes was stern, a silent command that left no room for disobedience. “Touch yourself,” you ordered, your voice low and authoritative. “And don’t you dare stop until I’m done with you.”

The combination of your firm grip, the intensity of your gaze, and the raw power of your words sent a thrill through Jiseok. His eyes widened even further, a mix of surprise and arousal evident in their depths. Obediently, he wrapped his hand around his own length, his touch tentative at first, then growing more confident as he began to stroke himself in time with your thrusts.

The added stimulation pushed him closer to the edge, his moans becoming more desperate, more pleading. Every movement, every sound, was a testament to the exquisite torture you were inflicting upon him. His body was a canvas, and you were the artist, painting a masterpiece of pleasure and submission.

Your lips never left his neck, the wet, messy kisses a constant reminder of your presence and control. Each thrust, each command, each touch, was a deliberate act of dominance, designed to bring him to the brink and keep him there, teetering on the edge of ecstasy. The power you held over him was intoxicating, a heady mix of control and desire that left you both breathless.

As Jiseok’s strokes grew more frantic, his body trembling with the effort to maintain control, you could see the raw need in his eyes. The sight of him, so vulnerable and desperate, was a beautiful contrast to his usual bravado. It was a moment of pure, unfiltered connection, a dance of power and submission that left you both craving more.

Though Jiseok was rendered speechless, his response was visceral. He nodded vigorously, his movements driven by instinct rather than thought. His eyes fluttered shut, rolling back into his head as waves of pleasure overwhelmed him. His mouth, parted in a breathless gasp, emitted a continuous stream of erotic sounds—moans, whimpers, and gasps—that filled the air with a symphony of raw desire.

The pace you had set was relentless, each thrust precise and unyielding. The rhythm of your movements was a powerful force, pushing him closer to the edge with every stroke. His body responded instinctively, bouncing beneath you with each snap of your hips, the force of your actions leaving him helplessly at your mercy.

You could see the culmination of his orgasm approaching, a visible wave of pleasure that crested before he even had the chance to fully experience it. His entire body trembled with the intensity of his release, the tension and ecstasy etched across his features as his senses were inundated with the overwhelming pleasure you had orchestrated.

Despite the overwhelming sight of his climax, you did not relent. The snap of your hips continued with unyielding precision, maintaining the rhythm that kept him on the precipice of his ecstasy. The relentless force of your movements only added to the intensity, ensuring that he was swept up in the powerful, unending wave of sensation.

As Jiseok's body was rocked by the force of your thrusts, the combination of his vocal responses and the visual impact of his pleasure created a scene of exquisite, almost violent intimacy. Each thrust, each push, was a testament to the power you held, a beautifully detailed expression of control and desire that left you both breathless and craving more.

Jiseok’s whines began to rise in pitch, the sound a desperate plea for respite as you continued, relentless, after his second orgasm. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears, a telltale sign of the overstimulation that left him vulnerable and overwhelmed. Despite his evident distress, he didn’t dare disobey; his hands, trembling with the effort, shakily tried to keep pace with the rhythm you set. Each quiver of his fingers was a testament to his surrender, an acknowledgment of your absolute control.

You kept your gaze fixed on his face, savoring the exquisite display of his unraveling. His expression was a mix of helplessness and desperate need, a beautiful contrast to the confident persona he usually projected. The sight of him so utterly undone beneath you was intoxicating, his whimpers and pleas a perfect accompaniment to the raw pleasure you were inflicting.

It wasn’t long before a third orgasm tore through him with a surprising ferocity, more intense and aggressive than the first two. The force of it was almost overwhelming, a powerful wave that left him trembling and gasping. This time, you allowed yourself to slow your pace, guiding him through the tumultuous waves of his climax with a deliberate, measured rhythm. Each thrust was calculated, designed to prolong his pleasure and deepen the intensity of his release.

As his body continued to writhe beneath you, the rhythmic pulse of his orgasm gradually subsided. His movements became more frantic, a clear sign of his need for relief. You watched with a mix of satisfaction and possessive delight as he squirmed, finally wriggling under you in a final, desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sensations. With one last, deliberate thrust, you brought the relentless rhythm to a halt, your body coming to rest against his.

The room was filled with the echoes of his pleasure, the air thick with the remnants of his intense release. You took a moment to bask in the aftermath, your control and dominance etched into every breath he took. The scene before you was a testament to the exquisite power of your connection, a beautifully detailed tableau of desire and submission that left both of you breathless and spent.

He lay before you, a beautiful mess of flushed skin and disheveled abandon. His cheeks and ears were painted a deep crimson, a vivid contrast to the pale expanse of his neck and shoulders. His pink lips were parted, still gasping for breath as he struggled to regain his composure. The sight of him, so utterly spent and vulnerable, was a portrait of exquisite pleasure and surrender.

Yet, it was the adoration in his eyes that captivated you the most. Despite the chaos of the moment, his gaze remained steady, a soft, glowing warmth radiating from his eyes as they followed your every move. It was a look of profound devotion, a silent testament to the connection you shared. The sight was both endearing and electrifying, a stark contrast to the wild, urgent sounds that had filled the air moments before.

"You’re so good to me," he murmured, his voice a tender whisper against the lingering echoes of his earlier cries. The contrast between his previous loud moans and the soft, heartfelt admission was striking, adding a layer of intimacy to the moment. His words were a balm to your own exhaustion, a reminder of the depth of the bond you both shared.

A chuckle, full of affection and warmth, escaped your lips as you absorbed the sweetness of his confession. With a gentle, almost reverent touch, you leaned down, your movements slow and deliberate. You pressed your lips against his forehead, a soft, lingering kiss that spoke of comfort and reassurance. Moving to his nose, you placed another kiss, this one lighter and more playful, before finally capturing his lips in a tender, lingering embrace.

The kiss was a silent promise, a wordless declaration of your feelings as you melted into the intimacy of the moment. The softness of his lips against yours, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, created a cocoon of affection that wrapped around both of you. In that shared space, amidst the aftermath of passion and pleasure, you found a quiet, beautiful connection that transcended words and left you both basking in the gentle glow of your shared intimacy.

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🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

hi green !!

i hope im not mistaken, but i believe today’s your birthday...?? so happy birthday love, i wish you all the best and i hope you’ll spend your day surrounded by people who love you and care about you<3

eat well and take care, happy birthday again !!<3

you’re not mistaken, it is my birthday! thank you so much!🥹🥹🥹 you’re so sweet, i’ll for sure will be eating today…probably won’t be considered healthy eating but hey! it’s my birthday! i’ll have ice cream for breakfast if i want to!!