Thank You So Much 🥺🫶
Thank you so much 🥺🫶
☔️ BLUE LEMONADE ( newjeans )
❛ A chance meeting over a blue lemonade at a coffee shop sparks an awkward crush, culminating in a rainy-day confession that transforms your timid connection into the start of something new as you walk to school together.
𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐦 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 22 mins
꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first girl group request (made by the lovely @dgybbvrcsacgswtcbkyv)! And honestly my first published girl group piece in general! Hopefully more will be posted soon! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: High School AU, Strangers-to-Crushes, Y/N works at a coffee shop in the mornings before school, Hanni is the school's popular girl, they're both painfully awkward and a little dorky, Y/N gets ghosted for two days, Y/N is implied to be a bit taller than Hanni, let me know if I missed anything!
( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )
The first light of dawn had only just begun to stretch across the city when you found yourself tucked behind the counter of a quaint coffee shop, the scent of freshly ground beans swirling around you. The world outside was still waking, the streets bathed in the soft glow of early morning, with only a few souls braving the chill air. It was a quiet hour, the kind that allowed your thoughts to drift as you worked, hands moving almost on their own as you prepared each steaming cup.
It was in this serene moment that the melodic voice of Hanni Pham cut through the stillness, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Aren’t you from my school?" she asked, her tone curious yet soft, as if the question itself carried the weight of familiarity.
Startled, you looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you met her gaze. There she stood, the popular girl everyone knew, her presence commanding the small space. Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her face, and her eyes, bright and inquisitive, were fixed on you.
You had always admired Hanni from afar, her warmth and kindness setting her apart from the rest, but in this unexpected encounter, you couldn’t help but brace yourself for the worst. The echoes of cruel laughter from your peers lingered in your mind, and despite knowing that Hanni wasn’t like the others, a part of you feared that she might still find a way to mock you, just as so many others had done before.
Yet, as you stood there, words caught in your throat, you realized that the girl before you seemed genuinely interested, her expression free of malice. There was no hint of the cruelty you had grown accustomed to; only the simple, honest curiosity of someone who recognized you and wished to connect.
You watch her through the veil of your lashes, barely daring to breathe as you hum in response to her question. The gentle sound of your confirmation seems to light up Hanni’s face, and you find yourself captivated by the way her smile widens, a warmth blooming in her eyes that seems to chase away the lingering shadows of the early morning.
“That’s so cool,” she murmurs, her voice soft and almost reverent as she takes in the cozy atmosphere of the café. The sincerity in her words takes you by surprise, and before you can stop it, a faint blush rises to your cheeks, your heart fluttering in a way that’s both unfamiliar and strangely comforting.
Gathering the courage to speak, you mumble, “What can I get you?” The words are barely above a whisper, your anxiety weaving them into a quiet melody that seems to float between you. Yet, despite your hushed tone, Hanni hears you, her gaze shifting to the menu hanging above you as she ponders her choice.
Her cheeks puff out slightly as she thinks, a gesture so endearing that it momentarily distracts you from your own nerves. You can’t help but notice the way her fingers fidget with the straps of her backpack, a subtle sign of her own anxiety. Somehow, seeing this small vulnerability in her makes you feel a little more at ease, as if you’re not the only one grappling with uncertainty in this unexpected moment.
“I’d like a lemon poppy seed muffin,” Hanni finally decides, her voice breaking the quiet. You quickly enter her order into the register, your fingers moving almost automatically as you try to steady your racing thoughts. Just as you’re about to hand her the receipt, she speaks again, her next question catching you off guard.
“What cold drink would be good with the muffin? There are so many options here that I wouldn’t know where to even start,” she admits with a light laugh, her eyes meeting yours once more.
The question hangs in the air, and for a moment, you’re at a loss for words. But then, you realize she’s genuinely seeking your opinion, and the thought fills you with a quiet sense of responsibility, as though this small decision is more important than it seems.
You take a moment to consider her question, the weight of her expectant gaze making your heart flutter. After a brief pause, you finally gather the courage to speak, your voice soft but sincere. “Well, I personally am a fan of the blue lemonades we have here. It’d pair well with the muffin.”
The morning light seems to dance in Hanni’s gentle eyes as she listens, her smile widening with a warmth that feels like the sun’s first embrace. She nods, her decision made with an easy grace that makes your chest tighten in the best possible way. “Well, then please add a blue lemonade to my order,” she says, her tone filled with a sweetness that lingers in the air like the scent of freshly baked pastries.
You nod, feeling a sense of quiet satisfaction as you prepare her drink, the task becoming almost meditative under the soft glow of her attention. The way she watches you, so trusting and kind, makes you want to do everything just right, to ensure that her experience is as lovely as she is.
When you finally hand her the cool, vibrant blue lemonade, the smile that spreads across her face as she takes the first sip is nothing short of enchanting. There’s a delightful hum that escapes her lips, a sound of pure contentment that resonates in the small space between you, and it’s all you can do to keep your composure.
Even as you clock out and begin your walk toward school, the memory of that moment clings to you like a cherished melody. You can still see her, bathed in the soft morning light, savoring the drink you had carefully prepared. The image of her satisfied smile and the gentle hum of approval replay over and over in your mind, a loop of warmth and wonder.
As you walk, you can’t help but marvel at how someone could possess such an infectious gentleness, a quality that seemed to radiate from her in waves, touching everything around her with its light. It leaves you pondering the possibilities of what it would be like to know her better, to be in the presence of someone who carries such precious warmth within them.
Throughout the day, you caught fleeting glimpses of Hanni as she navigated the bustling corridors of the school, her presence commanding attention without effort. She moved with a graceful ease, surrounded by the usual throngs of admirers and friends, her laughter a melodic thread that wove through the cacophony of voices. It was nothing out of the ordinary—just Hanni being the bright, beloved figure she always was.
But then there was that moment. A moment that took you by surprise, slipping into your day like a whispered secret. Seeking refuge from the noise and chaos of school life, you had retreated to your usual hiding spot behind the school building. It was a place technically off-limits, a secluded nook that offered a rare pocket of silence, where you could steal a few precious moments to yourself. Despite the risk to your perfect record, the solace it provided was worth it, and so you continued to visit, cloaked in the comfort of your solitary sanctuary.
Unbeknownst to you, Hanni had spotted you slipping away and, driven by a quiet curiosity, decided to follow. You were completely unaware of her presence until you looked up to find her standing there, her figure framed by the soft light filtering through the trees. She smiled down at you with that same kind, gentle glint in her eyes, the warmth of her expression melting away the edges of your solitude.
Caught off guard, you felt your heart race as you struggled to find something—anything—to say. Your hiding spot, once a bubble of safety and comfort, suddenly felt exposed under her gaze. Yet, there was no judgment in her eyes, only a serene interest that made you feel oddly understood, as if she, too, sought moments of quiet in a world that never seemed to slow down.
As she approached, your thoughts wavered, torn between wanting her to stay and wishing to retreat back into the silence that had been your companion. But before you could resolve the conflict in your heart, the moment was interrupted. Hanni’s name rang out from across the courtyard, one of her friends calling her back to the lively world she inhabited.
For a brief second, Hanni hesitated, her gaze lingering on you. Then, with a timid wave and another one of those radiant smiles that seemed to light up the air around her, she turned and rejoined her friends, leaving you alone once more. But even as she walked away, the flutter in your chest remained, a gentle echo of the unexpected encounter that left you wondering what might have been had she stayed just a little longer.
You had initially assumed that Hanni’s sudden interest in you, sparked by that brief encounter at the coffee shop, would fade into a distant memory by the next day. It seemed impossible that someone like her would remember you, let alone seek you out again. So when the gentle chime of the bell above the door signaled the arrival of a new customer, you had no reason to expect anything out of the ordinary.
But as you turned your attention from the old, well-worn coffee machine to the door, your breath caught in your throat. There she was, Hanni Pham, her presence as radiant as the morning light spilling through the windows. Her bright eyes locked onto yours, and her smile—so warm, so familiar—seemed to light up the entire room. In that instant, you froze, your mind struggling to process the reality of her standing there, just as it had the day before.
For a moment, you could only stare, wide-eyed and motionless, as she patiently waited for you to finish preparing the coffee for the customer before her. Her unwavering gaze held a kindness that made your heart skip a beat, and by the time you moved back behind the cash register, your hands were trembling, betraying the nervous excitement bubbling within you.
“Hi again,” she greeted you with a polite bow, her voice carrying a surprising cheerfulness that contrasted sharply with your own weary state. There was no trace of the exhaustion you felt from the early morning hours, only an infectious energy that made it impossible not to smile in return.
Despite your nerves, a timid smile found its way to your lips as you mirrored her bow, your heart fluttering at the sight of the school’s most popular girl standing before you once more. Hanni’s presence seemed to fill the space around her with a brightness that made everything else fade into the background, and as you met her gaze again, the familiar sensation of your pulse quickening reminded you just how deeply her unexpected attention affected you.
“Hello,” you managed to reply, though your voice was softer than you intended, a reflection of the sudden shyness that had taken hold of you. There was a slight tremor in your words, a delicate vulnerability that felt impossible to hide. “Welcome back. What can I get for you today?”
Hanni’s smile remained unwavering, a warm, gentle curve that seemed to carry the morning’s light within it. You couldn’t help but notice how the early sunrays, filtering through the shop’s windows, wrapped around her figure like an ethereal halo, casting her in a soft, almost angelic glow. It was as if the world conspired to make her appear even more enchanting, and you found yourself momentarily lost in the quiet radiance she brought with her.
“Yesterday’s muffin was delicious,” she began, her voice as sweet as the treats you served. “But my favorite was the blue lemonade you suggested. So I came back to order it again.” Her words were simple, yet the sincerity in her tone made your heart flutter. As she stepped closer to the counter, resting her elbows on the surface and cupping her cheeks with a childlike charm, you felt a warmth spread through your chest.
The proximity between you suddenly felt too close and yet not close enough, creating a dry lump in your throat that you struggled to swallow. Her presence was almost overwhelming, an intoxicating mix of kindness and curiosity that left you feeling exposed. You nodded timidly, your fingers moving to enter her order into the cash register, though your mind was a flurry of emotions that threatened to unravel your calm facade.
The price of her order tumbled out of your mouth in a hurried, tangled mess, your voice betraying the nervousness that had taken root within you. Desperate to escape the intensity of her gaze, you quickly turned your back to her, focusing all your attention on preparing her drink. The simple task became a lifeline, something to anchor you as you navigated the storm of feelings that her presence had stirred up.
Even as you busied yourself with the routine motions of mixing the drink, you couldn’t shake the awareness of Hanni standing just a few feet away. Her energy filled the space between you, a subtle yet undeniable force that pulled at the edges of your composure. You wondered if she could sense the effect she had on you, if she noticed the way your hands trembled slightly as you worked. And as you prepared her blue lemonade, you couldn’t help but feel that this small, shared moment was something more—something significant that neither of you fully understood yet.
Eventually, you mustered the courage to turn and face her, offering a shy smile as you gently placed her order onto the counter. Hanni hadn’t moved from her spot, still resting her elbows on the counter, her face delicately cradled in her hands. There was a peculiar sense of intrigue in her gaze, a quiet curiosity that sent your heart into a sudden, uneven rhythm. The way she watched you, as if you were the most fascinating thing in the room, made it nearly impossible to meet her eyes.
With a polite bow, you expressed your gratitude for her purchase, though your voice felt small under the weight of her attention. But Hanni didn’t move, her fingers tightening slightly around the paper bag that held her breakfast, a subtle sign of nervousness that mirrored your own. You tried to focus on anything else, but the magnetic pull of her presence was inescapable.
As the silence stretched between you, curiosity finally got the better of you, and you hesitantly looked up, wondering if there was something more she wanted. But the sight that greeted you left you breathless—a soft gasp escaping your lips as your eyes fell on the small daisy held delicately in her free hand. The sight of it was unexpected, and yet it felt like a small, precious gift, laden with unspoken meaning.
Hanni’s cheeks were tinged with a delightful shade of crimson, her flustered expression revealing a vulnerability that only endeared her to you more. There was something so sincere, so utterly charming about the way she stood there, clearly uncertain but still daring enough to offer this simple token.
Before you could find the words to respond, Hanni quickly placed the daisy on the counter, her movements rushed and clumsy, as if she were caught in a whirlwind of emotions. And just as swiftly as she’d offered the flower, she turned and hurried out of the store, her departure leaving you standing there in a daze, the tiny daisy resting between you as the only evidence of the moment you’d just shared.
As you stared at the delicate flower, a smile slowly spread across your face, the warmth of the encounter lingering long after Hanni had gone. There was a quiet magic in that brief exchange, something that left your heart fluttering with possibilities you hadn’t dared to imagine before.
The delicate petals of the daisy, left thoughtfully on the counter, held your gaze as you turned it over in your fingers. It seemed to have been plucked from someone's garden, its simplicity making the gesture all the more touching. A warmth spread through your chest, swelling your heart with a mix of surprise and quiet joy. You couldn't help but giggle softly, the sound escaping as you replayed the moment in your mind—the timid way Hanni had offered the flower, her usual composure replaced by an endearing awkwardness.
It felt almost surreal to think of Hanni Pham, the girl admired by so many, standing before you in such a flustered state. At school, she was always the picture of confidence, effortlessly navigating the throngs of students who adored her. Yet here she was, reduced to nervousness by something as simple as a daisy. The contrast was striking, and it made the encounter feel all the more intimate, like you had glimpsed a side of her that few others ever saw.
As your shift came to an end, you reluctantly changed into your school uniform, your thoughts still lingering on the unexpected exchange. Carefully, you slipped the daisy into the front pocket of your shirt, feeling its gentle weight against your heart. The thought of seeing Hanni again at school filled you with a mix of anticipation and hope. Perhaps she would notice the flower in your pocket, and understand just how much you appreciated her sweet, unspoken message.
But as the day wore on and you wandered the familiar hallways, your eyes scanning the crowds, a sense of disappointment began to creep in. No matter where you looked, Hanni was nowhere to be found. The absence of her bright smile and warm presence left you feeling strangely empty, as if a small but significant part of your day was missing. And as the hours passed, you couldn't help but wonder if the moment you'd shared had meant as much to her as it had to you, or if it had simply been a fleeting gesture, lost in the flow of time.
Two days had slipped by since Hanni Pham last stepped into the cozy coffee shop where you worked, and though she had only visited twice before, her absence was keenly felt. A quiet sense of disappointment settled over you, mingled with confusion at the sudden shift between you. What had changed? Had you somehow messed up her lemonade in your nervousness the last time she was there? The thought nagged at you, as did the unsettling possibility that her visits had been part of some cruel joke—a way for her and her friends to laugh at your awkwardness.
Yet, despite these doubts, the daisy she left behind held your skepticism at bay. It was a simple, delicate thing, but it had spoken volumes—a gesture that seemed too genuine to be part of any prank. The memory of that moment, her flustered expression and the way she had hurried out of the shop, kept replaying in your mind, offering a glimmer of hope amidst your uncertainty. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to her visits than met the eye.
Since then, you had crossed paths with Hanni a few times, though each encounter was more awkward than the last. Every time your eyes met across the school grounds, a flush would creep up her cheeks, and she would quickly avert her gaze before hurrying off, leaving you standing there with a mix of bewilderment and curiosity. It was as if the daisy had created an invisible thread between you, a connection that neither of you fully understood yet couldn’t ignore. And as the days passed, you couldn’t help but wonder what had really changed, and whether that fragile thread would ever be strengthened—or if it would simply unravel, leaving you with nothing but the memory of a fleeting smile and a flower wilting in your pocket.
You found yourself staring through the large windows of the coffee shop, eyes narrowed at the relentless downpour outside. The rain fell in heavy sheets, turning the world beyond the glass into a blur of gray and silver. The day had begun with a slight humidity hanging in the air, a remnant of the previous night's showers. You'd assumed that as the hours passed, the weather would warm, and the clouds would part. Yet here you were, watching as the rain refused to let up, silently cursing yourself for not bringing an umbrella—just in case.
Frustration simmered within you as you glanced toward your sleepy boss, who was slowly shuffling through receipts at the counter. Hope flickered briefly as you approached him, thinking perhaps he might have a spare umbrella stashed away somewhere—something to shield you from the impending drenching on your walk to school. But when he looked up at you with a pitiful expression, his lips forming a small, regretful frown, your heart sank. The unspoken words hung between you: there was no umbrella, no shelter from the storm.
The realization settled over you like a damp fog, and your shoulders slumped in resignation. You would be forced to face the harsh rain, its cold fingers reaching for you the moment you stepped outside. The thought of trudging through the downpour, schoolbag clutched protectively to your chest, sent a wave of irritation coursing through you. Yet, beneath that frustration, a quiet resolve began to form. You could handle a little rain, even if it meant arriving at school soaked to the bone. The day, after all, had to go on, and so would you—even if it meant battling the elements on your own.
Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the discomfort awaiting you—a day where your clothes would cling to you like a second skin, soaked through with rainwater. The thought of spending hours in a wet uniform, cold and miserable, while enduring the stares of your classmates made your stomach twist with dread. There was no escaping it now, though, and no one to blame but yourself for not being wise enough to carry an umbrella, despite the unpredictable weather.
As you stepped out onto the slick sidewalk, the rain assaulted you immediately, each droplet stinging like a million tiny needles against your skin. You broke into a brisk jog, your feet splashing through puddles as you hurried toward the school. The dark clouds above loomed ominously, their wrath evident in the relentless downpour that showed no signs of relenting.
Clutching your backpack tightly to your chest, you bowed your head low in a futile attempt to shield your belongings from the soaking rain. The chill of the wet fabric seeped through your uniform, clinging to your body uncomfortably, making every movement a reminder of your unfortunate situation. With each step, the wetness seeped deeper, the cold tightening its grip on you as you pushed forward, determined to reach the relative shelter of the school as quickly as possible.
A torrent of curses swirled in your mind as you hurried through the relentless downpour, your drenched hair constantly slipping into your eyes, obstructing your vision. Each time you swiped it away, the rain would only force it back, a ceaseless battle that left you increasingly frustrated. Your breath came in ragged, exhausted pants, and with each step, a wave of pure misery washed over you as you realized just how much further you still had to go before reaching the safety of your school. The thought alone was enough to make your heart sink even deeper into despair.
Then, as if the universe had decided to offer you a sliver of mercy, you heard a voice—a familiar one—shout your name from behind. Startled, you nearly stumbled, your momentum causing you to skid to a halt as you spun around, searching for the source of the call. You didn't know who it could be, but you certainly hadn't expected to see Hanni Pham, completely dry under the shelter of a bright blue umbrella, sprinting toward you with surprising speed.
Her cheeks were flushed, though you quickly rationalized that it must have been from her running. You stood there, drenched and slightly bewildered, as she closed the distance between you, your heart racing—not just from the physical exertion but from the unexpected sight of her. Hesitantly, you waited, unsure of what to expect, as she caught up to you, her presence like a beacon of unexpected warmth in the cold, miserable rain.
Hanni reached out clumsily, her hand gripping your shoulder as she stumbled, nearly colliding with you in her haste to stop. She barely managed to avoid knocking you over, her breath coming in short, labored gasps as she tried to regain her balance. The umbrella she held hovered above the two of you, offering a small but much-needed refuge from the relentless rain. You couldn’t help but release a relieved sigh, though you had to hunch down slightly to fit under the cover, given her shorter stature. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, you tried your best to ignore the maddening flutter of your heart caused by her unexpected kindness.
While you were grateful for her sudden appearance, a mild irritation simmered beneath the surface. It had been two days since Hanni had seemingly vanished from your life after being so unexpectedly kind toward you. And now, here she was, as if nothing had happened. To you, it didn’t matter that, according to the unspoken rules of your high school’s social hierarchy, someone as beloved and popular as Hanni Pham wasn’t supposed to be seen interacting with someone like you, someone considered so low on that very same ladder. You were well aware of the invisible barriers meant to keep your worlds apart, but in that moment, none of it mattered.
What did matter was the fact that Hanni had, of her own volition, turned your plain and awkward interactions into something else when she plucked a daisy and left it for you at the coffee shop, her cheeks ablaze with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. It wasn’t fair for her to initiate such a change and then leave you hanging, avoiding you as if nothing had happened. As Hanni finally straightened her posture, catching her breath and seemingly ready to speak, she was met with your carefully guarded but unmistakably annoyed expression. You regarded her with a mix of curiosity and frustration, waiting for the explanation you felt you deserved.
Despite the chilly edge in your gaze, Hanni made an effort to appear nonchalant. Her laughter, though light, betrayed a tremor of nervousness as she twirled the ends of her slightly damp hair around her finger. Even in your state of irritation, you found yourself inexplicably charmed by the sight of her. Her eyes, despite the oppressive gray clouds and relentless rain, sparkled with a warmth reminiscent of the gentle morning sun that would occasionally filter through the coffee shop's windows, casting a soft, inviting glow.
You maintain your composure, raising a single eyebrow at her as she fumbles to address the situation. “Uh, it’s a good thing I spotted you and had my umbrella,” she murmured, her voice nearly swallowed by the cacophony of rain. The casualness in her tone only served to heighten your irritation. It was clear she wanted to gloss over the fact that she had vanished for two days without a word, and you were determined not to let her do so.
With a hint of measured annoyance, you replied, “It’s good to see you again, Hanni.”
Her reaction was immediate—an almost imperceptible wince at the subtle bite in your voice. For the first time since her transfer to your school, you saw her frown, and the sight of it struck you with a pang of guilt. The weight of knowing you were the cause of that rare expression was almost suffocating. Yet, despite the tug of empathy in your chest, you knew you had to stand firm. You weren’t someone to be manipulated or dismissed, and you refused to be treated as a mere pawn in whatever game she might have been playing.
"I noticed you kept the flower I gave you in your front pocket all day," she began softly, her gaze fixed on the wet pavement as if seeking comfort in its familiarity. "It looked really nice." Her words were barely above a whisper, and you responded with a half-hearted hum, trying to ignore the rapid fluttering of your heart. Hanni let out a quiet, defeated sigh as she finally summoned the courage to meet your unyielding gaze. "Look, I panicked, okay?"
Her sudden confession caught you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise as your lips parted slightly. A deep crimson blush crept up her cheeks, but despite the embarrassment, she held her gaze steady, even as her hands trembled while keeping the umbrella positioned over both of you, shielding you from the relentless downpour. "You’ll probably think I’m some crazy stalker, but here goes: I’ve had this silly little crush on you for the past year, and it all started one Saturday while you were working. I just stood there, watching you do your thing. You have this kind and soft smile that really caught my attention. And I promise, I wasn’t following you or anything, but after that, I just kept seeing you everywhere. You’re so quiet, and I really wanted to get closer to you.
"One day, I decided I’d try sitting with you at lunch, but you kept disappearing somewhere, and I could never find you. So, I kind of gave up for a while. Then, the other day, I forgot to eat breakfast and ended up stopping by your shop, not even knowing you worked there in the mornings. And, well, the next day, I stupidly gave you that flower out of nowhere, and then I just got really embarrassed. I couldn’t look at you after that because I was so sure you thought I was some weirdo or something. And maybe I was because I kept watching you from afar, hiding, and I noticed you were looking for me in all the places I usually hung out. But I still couldn’t bring myself to come out. Until today."
Hanni inhaled deeply as she concluded her startling confession, her chest rising and falling with the weight of words she had kept bottled up for so long. It dawned on you that she hadn’t taken a single breath as she rambled on, pouring out her heart without pause. You stood there, stunned, as her words echoed in your mind, causing a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts to spiral within you.
You struggled to make sense of it all, your mind racing back through the year’s memories, searching for any sign that might have hinted at her feelings. But try as you might, you couldn’t recall a single instance where Hanni had paid you any mind. All this time, you had believed you were invisible to her, just another face in the crowd, irrelevant in the bright, popular world she inhabited. The realization that you had been wrong, that she had noticed you all along, was a revelation you never expected—certainly not now, and certainly not like this.
Of course, you had always found Hanni intriguing. There was something about her that drew your gaze whenever she was near, a quiet magnetism that you could never fully explain. But you had kept your distance, never daring to imagine that your paths would ever truly cross. It was safer that way, you thought—to admire her from afar, to keep her at the edges of your thoughts, a fleeting presence that you could easily dismiss. That was, until she walked into the coffee shop where you worked for the first time, shattering the careful distance you had maintained.
You couldn't help but feel a wave of fondness wash over you as you observed Hanni, her wide eyes filled with anticipation, brows furrowed in a mix of worry and hope. The frown that lingered on her lips tugged at your heartstrings, and despite the frustration you’d felt moments ago, your resolve began to crumble. Slowly, a warm smile spread across your face, softening the tension that had hung between you.
“You’re so silly, you know that?” you teased, letting out a light giggle as you playfully poked her cheek. The irritation you’d held onto melted away, replaced by the warmth of the moment.
Hanni let out a sigh of relief, her own giggle bubbling up to join yours. The sound was contagious, and you found yourself laughing along with her, the earlier awkwardness dissolving into the gentle rhythm of your shared laughter.
“Let’s walk to school together, yeah?” you asked, your voice tender and inviting. You could hardly contain the surge of affection that welled up inside you when Hanni’s entire face lit up in response. Her eyes sparkled with a happiness that was impossible to miss, and she nodded vigorously, her excitement palpable.
Without another word, the two of you turned to walk side by side, the rain now a mere backdrop to the warmth that blossomed between you. For the first time, you found yourselves heading to school together, a quiet sense of joy settling into the space you shared.
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𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, this is pure filth I don’t know what else to tell you, mentions of cum, mentions of his kinks, mentions of sex positions, let me know what else I should add here!
( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )
𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵𝘄𝗮 | 𝗵𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗷𝗼𝗼𝗻𝗴 | 𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗵𝗼 | 𝘆𝗲𝗼𝘀𝗮𝗻𝗴 | 𝘀𝗮𝗻 | 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗶 | 𝘄𝗼𝗼𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 | 𝗷𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗵𝗼
If you want to be tagged for all or specific members, comment to let me know!
A──AFTERCARE ⋆ ★ what he’s like after sex
During aftercare, Seonghwa's attention is nothing short of meticulous. His touch is gentle yet purposeful, an intricate dance of care and tenderness. As a switch, his nature is one of balance; the one who held the reins of dominance must now be the nurturing force. This dynamic, for him, is both a necessity and a cherished ritual.
When Seonghwa is in the submissive role, he transforms into a portrait of neediness, craving affection with an almost palpable urgency. His voice, soft and pleading, seeks endless validation through praises and intimate cuddles. He clings with a fervor that speaks volumes of his vulnerability, basking in the warmth of your attention.
Conversely, when the roles are reversed and it's you who finds yourself in need, Seonghwa becomes an impeccable caretaker. His devotion is expressed through thoughtful acts: he delicately cleans you, his touch light as a feather; he offers words of praise that flutter like butterflies around your senses; and he presents you with a glass of water, the cool liquid a soothing balm. Whatever you desire, however small or grand, he ensures that you want for nothing.
B──BODY PART ⋆ ★ his favorite body part of yours
Seonghwa’s adoration is fixated on one particular part of you: your eyes. It might sound like a well-worn cliché, but for him, it transcends mere sentiment. Your eyes are a window to your soul, capturing and reflecting every fleeting emotion with crystalline clarity.
There is an entrancing quality to them that captivates him entirely. When he teases you, he watches as your eyes silently plead, the unspoken desire shimmering within their depths. Each glance and subtle shift tells a story, one that he finds irresistibly compelling. And when the pleasure becomes almost too much to bear, he is mesmerized by the way your eyes flutter and roll back, lost in the throes of ecstasy.
Seonghwa finds himself lost in their gaze, captivated by the intimate revelations they offer. He could lose himself in their depths, watching endlessly as they dance through a spectrum of emotions, each moment more enchanting than the last. For him, your eyes are an endless source of fascination, a mesmerizing mirror reflecting the essence of your being.
C ──CUM ⋆ ★ anything to do with cum, basically
Seonghwa cherishes the sublime moment of climax with a profound intensity. For him, the most exhilarating part is the euphoric build-up that overtakes him. Just before he reaches the peak, a wave of ecstatic tension envelops him, making every muscle in his body quiver in anticipation. This crescendo of sensation is a mesmerizing dance of pleasure, as he trembles on the brink of release, surrendering to the waves of ecstasy that wash over him.
When it is you who reaches the pinnacle of pleasure, Seonghwa finds immense joy in observing your response. He is captivated by the subtle, yet profoundly beautiful, aftershocks that ripple through your body. Each shiver and convulsion is a testament to the intensity of your experience, a visual symphony of your journey through bliss. As you ride the final waves of your climax, your body moves with a delicate, almost ethereal grace, and he revels in the sight of your ecstatic surrender, marveling at the way your pleasure unfolds and gradually recedes.
D ──DIRTY SECRET ⋆ ★ a dirty secret of his
Seonghwa is a man of remarkable openness when it comes to his desires and fantasies. He carries no hidden or "dirty secrets," instead embracing a refreshing transparency in his desires. Anything that piques his interest or stirs his passions is shared with you without reservation.
His confidence in your understanding and acceptance is unwavering. He knows that within the safe confines of your relationship, there is no room for judgment. This trust allows him to express his deepest curiosities and turn-ons with complete freedom. His willingness to communicate his wants reflects a profound respect for your bond, and an acknowledgment of the unspoken understanding that exists between you.
E ──EXPERIENCED ⋆ ★ how experienced was he before you?
Before you entered his life, Seonghwa’s experiences in intimacy were confined to the realm of conventional, vanilla encounters. His past was marked by encounters that, while fulfilling on the surface, adhered strictly to the norms of traditional passion. These experiences, though genuine, lacked the depth and exploration that he now cherishes.
It wasn't until you came into his life that the landscape of his sexuality began to shift profoundly. The intimacy between you both transcended the ordinary, venturing into realms of raw and exhilarating exploration. Your encounters, marked by a roughness that both shocked and thrilled him, redefined his understanding of physical connection. The dynamic you shared opened his eyes to a world of sensuality that was far more intricate and multifaceted than he had ever imagined.
In your presence, Seonghwa discovered a new dimension of pleasure and intimacy. He often reflects on this transformation with a sense of awe, even jestingly claiming that you bestowed upon him what he refers to as his "second virginity." This phrase captures the profound impact you’ve had, as if your shared experiences had allowed him to rediscover and reinvent his sense of sensuality from the ground up.
F ──FAVORITE POSITION ⋆ ★ self-explanatory
Seonghwa revels in the intimacy of spooning during sex, a position that melds closeness with a serene, unhurried pace. This tender embrace allows for a deeply connected experience, where the gentle, rhythmic movements foster prolonged pleasure. As you both settle into this position, his hands are free to roam and explore, caressing and teasing with a sensitivity that enhances the romantic atmosphere. The shared warmth and proximity make this position a perfect canvas for his appreciation of romance and affection.
When the two of you are not curled up together, Seonghwa finds great pleasure in the cowgirl and reverse cowgirl positions. These arrangements present him with a captivating view of your reactions, intensifying the visual and emotional connection between you. In these positions, he can control the rhythm and depth of each movement, savoring every nuance of sensation. Additionally, the opportunity to admire the sight of you in matching lingerie or other alluring visual details adds an extra layer of stimulation and delight to the experience.
G ──GOOFY ⋆ ★ is he serious or goofy?
Seonghwa possesses a demeanor of solemnity, his presence often marked by a serious and composed exterior. Yet, amid the fervor of passion, there exists a charmingly humorous side to his otherwise reserved nature. In the heat of the moment, the intensity of your connection sometimes gives way to an endearing clumsiness.
In these moments, the room is charged with a palpable energy, where the fervor of your shared desire occasionally leads to inadvertent mishaps. Perhaps a tangled leg or a misstep causes the both of you to stumble, breaking the rhythm of your intimate dance. Despite the initial surprise, the atmosphere quickly softens. You exchange quick, silent glances, each of you assessing the other for any signs of discomfort.
Then, as if on cue, the tension dissolves into laughter. The giggles that erupt between you are spontaneous and infectious, a delightful interlude that momentarily replaces the intense passion with pure, unadulterated joy. The laughter lingers in the air as you both regain your composure, your connection undiminished by the playful stumble. With renewed smiles and a shared sense of amusement, you seamlessly slip back into the rhythm of your intimacy, the light-heartedness only deepening the bond between you.
H ──HAIR ⋆ ★ how well-groomed is he?
Among all the members, he stands out for his meticulous attention to cleanliness. His grooming habits reflect a level of care that borders on perfectionism. Down there, he is as smooth as a baby's skin, a testament to his dedication to personal upkeep.
This meticulousness is partly driven by his penchant for wearing lingerie, where he feels that a hair-free look enhances his aesthetic. His confidence extends to his physical appearance, as he takes pride in showcasing a particularly well-endowed and visually appealing aspect of himself. His smoothness, therefore, is not just a matter of preference but a deliberate choice to accentuate his natural beauty and enhance his overall presentation.
Despite his preference for a sleek appearance, he also harbors an appreciation for the allure of a well-groomed bush. It’s a contrast that underscores his nuanced tastes, revealing a deep respect for both pristine elegance and the classic appeal of natural beauty.
I ──INTIMACY ⋆ ★ the romantic aspect of sex
For Seonghwa, the essence of romance in intimacy is deeply intertwined with the trust you both share. This trust, built on mutual understanding and respect, transforms each encounter into a profound expression of connection. The way you rely on each other during these moments is where he finds the true beauty of your bond.
Yet, this does not imply that he is incapable of appreciating the gentler side of intimacy. Occasionally, he finds immense beauty in the simplicity of slow, vanilla sex—a tender exploration of togetherness that emphasizes the joy of simply being with you. For him, these moments of unadorned affection hold their own special charm, celebrating the profound beauty of your relationship in its most straightforward form.
J ──JACK OFF ⋆ ★ masturbation
Seonghwa reserves his solo moments of indulgence primarily for when he’s on tour. During these times, he makes a ritual out of it, capturing the experience on film with a meticulous care. He sends these recordings to you, turning his private moments into a shared pleasure, a way to keep the connection between you alive even when distance separates you.
He derives a particular thrill from edging himself, drawing out his own pleasure in a manner reminiscent of the way you tease him. The deliberate delay of gratification adds a layer of intensity to his experience, reflecting his deep appreciation for the art of anticipation. Each moment of self-restraint is an intimate tribute to the way you both savor and extend pleasure, keeping the bond between you both alive and vibrant.
K ──KINK ⋆ ★ one or more kinks he’d have
Each time you call him “mommy,” he struggles to contain the overwhelming rush of arousal it provokes. The sound of the word alone drives him to the edge of sanity, his restraint faltering as he fights against the tide of his own pleasure. In moments of intense desire, he might even humorously refer to himself as “mommy,” a playful nod to the potent effect your words have on him.
Seonghwa is also deeply enthralled by the complexities of dominance and submission. His fascination with these dynamics is reflected in his diligent research, where he eagerly explores various aspects of the interplay between control and surrender. He frequently shares intriguing articles and ideas with you, each link a glimpse into his desire to experiment and expand your mutual experiences.
The intense trust forged through these moments of passionate, almost sadistic encounters is something Seonghwa cherishes deeply. Wrapped in the raw energy of your interactions, the bond between you strengthens, flourishing within the confines of aggressive play. For him, this trust is not just a foundation but a source of profound connection and gratification.
As a switch, Seonghwa exemplifies the fluidity between dominance and submission with remarkable ease. While he is equally content in either role, he often gravitates towards the dominant side. His ability to navigate both roles seamlessly underscores his versatility and deep-seated passion, ensuring that every experience is both dynamic and fulfilling.
L ──LOCATION ⋆ ★ favorite places to fuck
Though it may seem modest, Seonghwa finds a profound sense of comfort in the familiar confines of either your room or his own when it comes to intimacy. He is not one to seek out the thrill of adventurous locations; instead, he values the serene and secure environment that these private spaces offer.
To him, the intimacy of these familiar surroundings is essential, especially when the dynamic calls for one of you to embrace a submissive role. The reassuring presence of well-known settings provides a grounding force, allowing for a deeper connection and a sense of safety. In these cherished spaces, both of you can fully immerse yourselves in the moment, free from the distractions of the outside world.
M ──MOTIVATION ⋆ ★ what turns him on?
Seonghwa finds an exquisite thrill in the elegance of matching lingerie, a source of unparalleled excitement for him. He adores slipping into these delicate garments himself, often complemented by flowing, elegant robes that enhance the allure of his attire. The refined textures and intricate designs captivate him, transforming his personal experience into a celebration of sensuality and sophistication.
However, his passion reaches new heights when you join him in this indulgence. If you wear matching lingerie, but in a contrasting color, the sight alone could drive him to the brink of ecstasy. The visual symmetry, coupled with the playful contrast, ignites a fervent desire within him. The mere image of you both adorned in such exquisite lingerie, yet diverging in hues, creates an intoxicating blend of harmony and contrast that drives him to the edge of his passions.
N ──NO ⋆ ★ his turn-offs
Despite his deep affection for BDSM, Seonghwa’s response to seeing you in distress is immediate and heartfelt. Even if you haven’t uttered the safe word, the sight of tears welling up in your eyes sends a ripple of anxiety through him. His devotion to your well-being overrides any desire for continued play.
As soon as he detects the first glimmer of tears, Seonghwa instinctively halts all activity. His focus shifts entirely to your emotional state, his concern evident in his every gesture. He approaches you with a gentle urgency, offering a moment of respite and a soothing presence designed to help you regain your composure.
He gives you the space to calm down, his attentiveness unwavering. Only when you’re ready and have assured him that you wish to continue does he cautiously resume. His care and consideration ensure that each step forward is guided by your comfort and safety, underscoring his deep respect and affection for you.
O ──ORAL ⋆ ★ giving or receiving?
Seonghwa holds a profound appreciation for the art of oral pleasure, whether he is the one giving or receiving. To him, this act transcends the physicality of penetration, embodying a level of intimacy that is both deeply personal and exquisitely intimate.
The sensation of having his lover’s aroused form graced by his mouth is a profoundly tantalizing experience. The act of enveloping and being enveloped in this way creates a delicate dance of desire, where each touch and caress becomes an expression of profound connection. This intimacy, characterized by its closeness and the nuanced interplay of pleasure, is a beautiful exploration of mutual arousal that elevates the act to a realm of its own, marked by a tender, almost reverent allure.
P ──PACE ⋆ ★ fast and rough or slow and sensual?
Seonghwa’s approach to intimacy is intricately attuned to the mood of the evening. The rhythm and intensity of his touch are shaped by the theme of the night, each encounter reflecting the depth of his connection with you.
When he returns from a tour, having been away from the comforting embrace of your presence, he delights in taking his time with you. These moments are slow and languid, filled with a deep, sensual exploration that allows him to savor every nuance of your erotic sounds. He treasures this time, each moan and sigh a sweet reminder of the intimate bond you share.
Yet, there are occasions when his desire overtakes his patience. Even in these instances, where urgency drives him, he remains committed to a substantial period of foreplay, never skimping on the necessary build-up. His passion ensures that even in moments of heightened eagerness, there is still a generous thirty minutes dedicated to the art of seduction, each touch and caress meticulously designed to heighten the anticipation and pleasure.
Q ──QUICKIE ⋆ ★ yes or no?
Seonghwa is far from one to indulge in fleeting encounters; he treasures the art of making every moment count. The concept of a quickie holds little appeal for him. Instead, he revels in the slow, deliberate exploration of intimacy, savoring each nuance of the experience.
Foreplay, for him, is an essential and cherished prelude. He delights in the intricate dance of seduction that unfolds long before the physical act itself. The act of making out, with its tender, lingering kisses and the gradual unbuttoning of clothes, captivates him. Each touch and caress is a prelude to deeper connection, a way to savor the closeness and build anticipation.
The process of undressing one another is a ritual of its own, a sensual act of intimacy where every button and zipper becomes an opportunity to explore and adore. For Seonghwa, the journey leading up to sex is as precious as the act itself, and he finds immense pleasure in the slow, passionate build-up that enhances the depth of your shared connection.
R ──RISK ⋆ ★ down for risky sex?
Seonghwa's approach to intimacy is deeply rooted in romance, seeing it as a canvas upon which he paints both passion and tenderness. His appreciation for the emotional connection in sex is profound, and he often seeks to blend the elements of pleasure and pain in a way that enhances the romantic experience rather than detracting from it.
In his exploration of sensuality, he embraces the nuances of incorporating pain, yet he does so with a careful and measured touch. This integration of pain is never excessive or dangerous; instead, it is artfully balanced to intensify the overall experience while maintaining a sense of safety and care. Each sensation is meticulously calibrated to ensure that it enriches the emotional and physical connection, rather than overshadowing it. His aim is to enhance the romantic aspect of intimacy, creating a space where pleasure and pain coexist harmoniously, always respecting the boundaries of comfort and safety.
S ──STAMINA ⋆ ★ all night or minute man?
Seonghwa’s experiences of climax are often swift and intense, marked by a rapid crescendo that leaves him breathless. Yet, his passion is not confined to a single moment; he possesses an extraordinary stamina that allows him to engage in multiple rounds, extending the pleasure over hours of unrelenting intensity.
He delights in the art of overstimulation, pushing the boundaries of his own endurance with a fervent curiosity. Each round is an exploration of limits, where he tests just how much sensation he can savor before reaching the brink. This relentless pursuit of pleasure transforms each encounter into a prolonged symphony of ecstasy, where his ability to endure and delight in continuous stimulation becomes a testament to his passion and resilience.
T ──TOYS ⋆ ★ on you? himself? not at all?
Incorporating toys into your intimate moments brings an exhilarating dimension to your experiences. When you use toys on him, he is equally eager to reciprocate, exploring the realms of pleasure with the same enthusiasm. The presence of these toys transforms your encounters into a playground of sensory exploration and mutual delight.
The interplay of these toys becomes particularly thrilling when one of you is pushed to the brink of pleasure. The teasing edge of anticipation and the heightened sensations of overstimulation create a captivating dynamic. As you both navigate the shifting tides of arousal, the toys become instruments of both pleasure and connection, intensifying the shared experience and deepening the bond between you.
U ──UNFAIR ⋆ ★ is he a tease?
Seonghwa embodies the essence of a tantalizing tease. His playful nature shines through in his interactions, especially when it comes to the art of seduction. He has a particular fondness for toys, viewing them not merely as instruments of pleasure but as tools for both torment and intrigue.
For him, these toys are designed to push boundaries, to tease and tantalize with a precise, calculated touch. However, his preference leans decidedly towards overstimulation rather than prolonged teasing. His impatience for the drawn-out dance of anticipation often leads him to favor the more intense, immediate gratification of overstimulation. The crescendo of heightened pleasure, in his view, far outweighs the subtler, more patient game of tease.
V ──VOLUME ⋆ ★ what he sounds like
Seonghwa’s responses during moments of intimacy are often marked by a subtle elegance rather than overt noise. His pleasure is usually conveyed through soft, breathy sighs and the occasional gasps, each sound a delicate whisper of his sensations. This muted expression of enjoyment adds a layer of intimacy, creating a quiet yet profound connection between you.
However, on those rare occasions when his pleasure overwhelms him, his sounds shift to a more surprising register. His moans and cries become unexpectedly high-pitched, breaking through his usual reserve with a surprising intensity. These moments of vocal revelation are fleeting yet intense, offering a glimpse into the depth of his arousal and the delicate balance between his restrained demeanor and his more unguarded responses.
W ──WILD CARD ⋆ ★ random headcanon
Seonghwa finds a profound allure in the intimate art of shibari, a practice that weaves together both physical and emotional connection in an exquisite dance. The act of binding each other with intricately colored ropes becomes a ritual of both elegance and intensity, where every knot and loop is imbued with deep significance.
As the ropes weave around your bodies, there is an added layer of intimacy in the tender whispers of praise and soft, lingering kisses that accompany each touch. This delicate interplay of sensation and affection transforms the experience into something profoundly special. The act of shibari doesn’t necessarily culminate in sex; sometimes, the shared ritual of creating these beautiful bonds and savoring the moment together is a reward in itself. The experience becomes a celebration of closeness and trust, where the beauty of the act and the connection it fosters are cherished above all else.
X ──X-RAY ⋆ ★ what’s under his clothes?
Seonghwa’s skin is a stunning tapestry of smooth, sun-kissed tan, exuding a radiant warmth that highlights the elegance of his physique. His muscles are meticulously toned, embodying a sleek, lean grace that eschews the more defined abs for a subtler, refined strength.
His length is equally captivating, possessing a pleasingly average size that is generously thick. The veins that sinuously wind along its surface create an intricate and alluring pattern, adding a touch of natural artistry to his form. The tip, a delicate shade of pink, stands out as a beautiful contrast, completing the picture with its understated, yet striking elegance.
Y ──YEARNING ⋆ ★ how high is his sex drive?
Given the intense demands of BDSM, Seonghwa understands the importance of balance. His approach to intimacy reflects a deep respect for the physical and emotional toll it can take on both of you. While your time together is filled with exhilarating and profoundly intimate moments, he is not driven by a constant craving for more.
Sex with you is an experience of great pleasure and connection, yet it is not an everyday affair. Seonghwa recognizes that the richness of your encounters is enhanced by allowing time for recovery and reflection. This mindful approach ensures that each experience remains as fulfilling and intense as the last, preserving the integrity of your bond and the depth of your connection.
Taking time to recuperate between sessions is not merely a practical necessity but a cherished part of your shared journey. It allows both of you to savor the afterglow, to reconnect on a deeper level, and to approach each new encounter with renewed energy and enthusiasm.
Z ──ZZZ ⋆ ★ how quickly does he fall asleep after?
Seonghwa’s devotion extends beyond the moments of passion, reaching into the tender aftercare that follows. His commitment to your well-being is unwavering; he insists on staying awake until you do. Whether you wish to linger a bit longer, basking in the warmth of conversation and gentle cuddles, he is more than willing to oblige. His presence remains a comforting constant, a reassurance that you are not alone.
When you eventually drift into slumber, he remains by your side, his touch soft and tender. If you fall asleep swiftly, he gently nuzzles up to you, finding solace in your proximity as he too succumbs to the embrace of sleep. For Seonghwa, this post-intimacy closeness is an integral part of his aftercare routine.
He cannot bring himself to rest until he is certain you are completely settled and serene. His need to ensure your comfort and safety outweighs his own fatigue, highlighting his deep care and attentiveness. Only when he is assured that you are peacefully asleep does he allow himself the luxury of rest, his love and concern wrapped around you like a protective embrace.
꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ My permanent taglist is open! (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)
🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!
I want everyone to know that this is me every time someone drops a comment on something I've written:
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My family suffers the scourge of repeated displacement due to the outbreak of the dreaded war
From which our children, our home, and our shops were not spared...
Since the outbreak of the war, my family has been displaced time after time. Their displacement has reached 7 times, and they suffer from a lack of nutrition, health and everything, especially Youssef, the child who was born in a tent in harsh conditions.
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Can you write a fic for Hyein telling her how beautiful she is. I saw someone say she called herself ugly on a live and I feel so bad that she doesn't see how drop dead gorg she is
Hey! Thank you for the request! It’s absolutely ridiculous that she thinks she’s ugly when she’s quite literally anything but. She’s so beautiful and she deserves to feel like so, and I hope this piece portrays that! ── ( 𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 )
──── *ੈ♡⸝⸝ THROUGH MY EYES
( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 2.9k
🤭🤭🤭 you got me blushing and kicking my feet, THANK YOU!!!
🏵️ 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!
Since I’ve been getting a lot of requests lately, I thought I should remind everyone of the guidelines! Thank you all for the amazing support! 🫶
【 WWW.MINHOSBITTERRIVER.COM/GUIDELINES 】
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FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS, BLURBS, ONE-SHOTS, MOST TO LEAST, REACTION ASKS OR SUGGESTIONS! HOWEVER, HERE ARE SOME GUIDELINES TO KEEP IN MIND BEFORE SUBMITTING!
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《📪》 WILL NOT WRITE!
OO1. Full smut requests for any idols born after 2003 will not be accepted and will immediately be deleted. Anyone born after this year will strictly have either platonic or non-sexual romantic relationships with the reader. Check the next section for more on this. NOTE: This is subject to change each year since birthdays are a thing.
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《📫》 WILL WRITE!
OO1. ATEEZ, BTS, ENHYPEN, (G)I-DLE, ITZY, MAMAMOO, NEWJEANS, P1HARMONY, STRAY KIDS & XDINARY HEROES.
OO2. Suggestive content is okay for idols born on or before 2004! Anyone born after this year will strictly have either platonic or non-sexual romantic relationships with the reader. NOTE: This is subject to change each year since birthdays are a thing.
OO3. Smut is always welcomed! Sex holds a special meaning for me so my writing will reflect that. However, that doesn’t mean that I’m not down to try new kinks so feel free to request whatever! (P.S. I love pegging and shibari — do with that what you will!)
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OO5. Any genres and tropes are okay as long as they’re not too sci-fi or toxic! NOTE: This is subject to change since I’m indecisive as hell.
OO6. Song-inspired suggestions are always so much fun! This basically means that you can send me a song along with an idol of your preference and I’ll write something inspired by it.
《✉️》 DEPENDS!
OO1. Medical conditions and/or illnesses will mostly depend on my existing knowledge on it and whether I have the time to research it or not. If you want me to write about a reader that uses a wheelchair because you use a wheelchair, I would be honored to try!
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ain’t no fucking way i start dying of a cold the night before my 21st birthday what the hell
⨳ ❛𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓
❛ In which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.
𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ) 3.1k
꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression, reader has fibromyalgia, constant mentions of being in pain, love-making, cussing, lots of angst, MDNI.
( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )
꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!
⌗ O3┆ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞?
The following morning unfolded with an insistent chime of the doorbell that reverberated through the house, slicing through the tranquility of your sleep. Jolted awake, you wrestled with the disorienting shift from dreams to reality. Fragments of the previous day returned to you—the memory of your mother’s promise to fetch groceries and the knowledge that your father would be off to his shop in the morning. Reluctantly, you peeled yourself from the bed, draping a red, silky robe over your shoulders. The robe, soft and flowing, brushed against your ankles, offering a fleeting semblance of grace to your disheveled appearance. With a cursory glance at your reflection in the mirror, you did your best to present yourself with a semblance of poise before making your way down the old, creaking stairs.
Sleep had been elusive, marked by a restless night of shifting and turning as you sought comfort, each movement accompanied by sharp reminders of your physical discomfort. Now, each step down the stairs seemed to echo with the protest of your aching knees, their cries a testament to the night’s toll.
Peering through the peephole of the front door, you were met with an unexpected sight—Han Jisung, standing on your doorstep, his figure framed by the soft morning light. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if this was yet another of your mother’s elaborate schemes to meddle in your personal life. With a tentative hand, you unlatched the door.
Jisung’s face, flushed with a mix of embarrassment and nervousness, stood out against the serene morning backdrop. “I’m so sorry to intrude,” he stammered, his voice stumbling over his words in a cascade of apologies. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I—I just…”
“It’s alright,” you interjected gently, your voice carrying a trace of lingering sleep. “What brings you here?”
Jisung took a deep breath, visibly struggling to regain his composure. “I got your address from my mother. You left your cane at the café, and I wanted to return it.”
Your heart skipped a beat, a blend of mortification and unease swirling within you. The thought of Jisung possessing this personal detail about you was unsettling. Driven by a sudden impulse to manage the situation and avoid any potential awkwardness, you offered a hesitant invitation. “Would you like to come in for a moment?” you asked, your voice blending politeness with a hint of curiosity.
Jisung’s shoulders seemed to relax slightly as he stepped inside, though his nervousness was palpable. He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, his movements reminiscent of a kitten exploring an unfamiliar room. “Thank you,” he murmured, his eyes darting around the space with evident unease.
As you guided him to the living room, you couldn’t help but notice his discomfort. “You seem a bit on edge,” you remarked with a gentle smile. “Is everything alright?”
Jisung forced a sheepish grin, his cheeks flushed with a delicate pink. “I didn’t anticipate that this morning visit would be so… nerve-wracking. I hope I didn’t disrupt anything important.”
“No, not at all,” you reassured him, striving to ease the tension. “I was just trying to catch up on some rest. You’re actually a welcome distraction.”
The two of you settled into the living room, Jisung clutching the cane with a mixture of relief and awkwardness. “I’m glad I could return this,” he said, his voice still tinged with nervousness. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be alright with me dropping by like this.”
Your gaze softened as you observed his discomfort, recognizing his sincere effort to make amends. “It’s very kind of you to come all this way,” you said warmly. “And don’t worry, I genuinely appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
In the quiet cocoon of the room, the earlier tension began to dissolve like mist in the morning sun. The weight of Jisung’s knowledge about your condition still fluttered anxiously in your chest, but the simple kindness he had extended offered a comforting balm. The unease that had colored the morning started to shift, giving way to a tentative warmth born from shared understanding.
“Would you like some tea?” you asked softly, your voice a gentle ripple in the stillness. You hoped the invitation would offer a welcome distraction, a brief escape from the lingering tension. “My mother’s garden is home to a rich variety of herbs,” you continued, your tone warm and inviting. “While I usually lean toward peppermint for its refreshing kick, today I’d recommend lavender. It’s incredibly soothing.” You met his gaze with a tender empathy, acknowledging the anxiety that seemed to cling to him without forcing the issue.
Jisung’s relief was almost palpable, his posture visibly relaxing as he gave a grateful nod. He watched as you moved with a graceful purpose into the kitchen, each step seeming fluid and deliberate.
The kitchen, bathed in the soft glow of morning light, embraced a serene quiet. Jisung’s eyes followed your every motion with a quiet reverence, taking in the delicate care you employed with each action. Despite your practiced ease, the teapot felt unusually heavy today, a subtle reminder of the burdens you carried.
Once the tea was steeped and ready, you both retreated to the dining room in contemplative silence. The soft breathing coming from the two of you were the only sounds until you broke the quiet with a hesitant question.
“So, um, you found my cane?” you asked, trying to sound casual while a trace of nervousness lingered in the air.
“Oh! Yes,” Jisung responded quickly, his voice laced with relief. “Don’t worry. I told my mother you’d left a hat. I won’t say a word about it.”
Your eyes widened in genuine surprise, a wave of gratitude washing over you. “Oh, that’s incredibly thoughtful of you. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” Jisung replied, his voice sincere yet tinged with lingering nervousness.
An awkward silence fell over you both, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. You cleared your throat, the words spilling out before you could fully gather your composure. “I, um, have this condition—”
Jisung’s gaze met yours with a depth of understanding, his voice gentle and reassuring. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to. I don’t want you to feel pressured. But if you do want to share, I’m here to listen.”
His sincerity cut through the tension, lifting a weight from your shoulders. The room, once heavy with discomfort, began to fill with a budding sense of connection. As you both patiently awaited your warm drinks, the silence transformed from awkwardness into a shared, comforting presence, bridging the gap between two souls navigating their way toward understanding.
The quiet between you was dense and contemplative. You hesitated, grappling with whether to reveal more of your story. Turning to face him, your eyes swept the room, which seemed to echo your solitude. The kettle’s gentle simmer served as a backdrop to the turmoil inside you.
“I have fibromyalgia,” you began slowly, your voice tinged with a quiet sadness. “It’s a rare condition, and many doctors are skeptical about its validity.”
Jisung’s eyes widened, curiosity and concern mingling in his gaze. “What is fibro… um…”
“Fibromyalgia,” you corrected softly, a faint chuckle escaping your lips. “It’s a chronic condition that causes widespread pain, fatigue, and tenderness in the muscles, ligaments, and tendons. It’s like a constant ache that shifts and varies.”
Jisung’s gaze was fixed on you, his round eyes absorbing each word with a mix of concern and fascination. “Is that why you use a cane?”
“Yes,” you confirmed with a nod. “I use it when the pain becomes too intense to manage. Since the pain levels fluctuate, I don’t always need it, but on those tough days, it helps me get by.”
A flicker of recognition crossed Jisung’s face. “I remember seeing you in one of your early music videos with a cane. I thought it was part of the styling.”
Your heart warmed at his recollection. “Yes, that’s right. The pain was quite severe that day, so I requested a cane for practical reasons. It ended up adding a touch of flair to the performance, though.”
Jisung’s expression grew thoughtful. “Why didn’t you ask to postpone the filming then?”
You sighed softly, a hint of frustration in your voice. “If I postponed every time I was in pain, I’d have been fired a long time ago. I’ve had to find a way to work through it, making subtle adjustments to manage the discomfort while still meeting my obligations.”
The kettle’s whistle interrupted the moment, and you moved to pour the steaming water into two mugs, infusing them with fragrant herbs. You then arrange a tray with the mugs and a box of cookies before gesturing to Jisung. “Would you be a dear and carry this? We’re going to my mother’s garden.”
Jisung sprang up with an eagerness that made you smile, carrying the tray outside as you led the way. You settled onto the swinging bench, your posture relaxed, and motioned for him to place the tray on a small table positioned in front of you both. He complied and took a seat beside you.
The garden, bathed in the gentle light of day, looked like a dreamscape. Wildflowers swayed gracefully with the breeze, their vibrant colors dancing under the sun’s tender caress. The sunlight bestowed its golden warmth, creating a serene glow that kissed Jisung’s tanned skin, enhancing his natural radiance. As he sipped his tea, a contented sigh escaped him, his entire being seeming to relax with the soothing warmth of the beverage. His curly hair was styled with effortless charm, a few strands framing his face, and his wire glasses added a touch of sophistication. Your gaze lingered on him, admiring the simple beauty of the moment, before you quickly turned away, your heart fluttering with a contented sigh.
The silence between you was soothing, a balm to your often tumultuous thoughts. Even in his moments of struggle, Jisung’s presence provided a tranquil comfort. His voice, when it emerged, was a soft murmur that didn’t disrupt the peace you shared.
“Your mother’s garden is one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen,” he said, his words blending seamlessly into the calm.
A genuine smile, rare and bright, curved your lips. “Thank you,” you replied warmly. “She always dreamed of having a garden where she could truly breathe. I’m glad she finally made it a reality.”
Jisung’s gaze softened, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he smiled at you with such sincerity that it made your heart skip a beat. “I’m happy she did too,” he said quietly.
The simplicity of his words, coupled with the tranquility of the garden, created a moment of pure connection. For a fleeting instant, the weight of your loneliness seemed to lift, replaced by the gentle warmth of shared understanding and companionship.
“What helps you breathe, Jisung?” The question emerged from your lips with a startling clarity, and you winced inwardly at your own audacity. Jisung’s reaction was immediate—his grip on the mug faltered, and a soft, surprised chuckle escaped him, his ears flushing a delicate shade of pink.
“The way this garden helps your mother breathe, you mean?” he ventured, his voice carrying a note of gentle curiosity.
“Yes,” you responded, your tone warm and inviting. “If you’re comfortable sharing.”
Jisung’s gaze drifted back to the garden, his expression thoughtful. “Would it be cliché if I said it’s writing?”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Not at all, but I’d love to hear more.”
He considered his words carefully, his eyes tracing the dance of sunlight on the garden's blossoms. “When I write my songs, it’s like every fleeting thought in my mind is an inhale. When I finally commit those thoughts to paper and understand them, it’s an exhale. So I breathe to write and write to breathe.”
His words wove through you like a soft, comforting breeze, filling your being with a profound sense of being understood. A gentle warmth crept across your cheeks, and you found yourself captivated by the profile of his face. You were torn between relief that he couldn’t see the impact of his words and a desire to fully decipher his expression.
“So you understand,” you murmured, your voice blending with the garden’s serene ambiance.
Jisung turned slowly toward you, his eyes wide with a blend of curiosity and empathy. “How so?”
“Many people underestimate the power of words,” you began, your voice heavy with emotion. “They torment minds like ours until they’re released into the world, our innermost thoughts inked onto paper. Words can be both a curse and a salvation, filled with wonder and horror alike, and they help me breathe as well.”
“Exactly,” Jisung agreed, his voice rich with understanding. “That’s precisely how it feels.”
A bittersweet smile touched your lips as you returned your gaze to the garden, where the flowers swayed gently in the breeze. The tranquility of the scene seemed to mirror the quiet connection forming between you.
“My mother never truly appreciated the written word,” you confessed, your tone tinged with melancholy. “She finds solace in visual beauty and scents—like this garden. She never understood why I’d retreat into my room for hours, enveloped in a world of words.”
You paused, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. “My father, on the other hand, loved music and, by extension, words. Though he never wrote or read, I grew up waking to his morning serenades, each one a unique tribute to my mother while she prepared his lunch before he went to work. He never sang the same song twice, at least not that I can remember. Yet, he always expressed his love for her with the most beautiful, spontaneous words that even I could never have imagined.”
“That’s what helps them breathe,” Jisung said softly, his gaze filled with a tender admiration that seemed to caress your skin. His understanding made you acutely aware of how deeply you had opened up. “Your parents’ love sounds truly beautiful.”
You nodded, a genuine smile gracing your lips. The love your parents shared was indeed a rare and precious thing—a once-in-a-lifetime bond that you could only dream of experiencing for yourself. Despite any imperfections in your relationship with them, it remained an enduring truth.
As you prepared to respond further, the sudden, sharp creak of the front door echoed through the stillness, shattering the fragile peace. Jisung jumped to his feet, the serene atmosphere you had cultivated now disrupted. You remained seated, a pang of disappointment settling within you as the moment you had cherished began to slip away.
“Y/N, do you not answer your phone? I’ve called you several times to help me bring in the groceries!” Your mother’s voice cut through the quiet as she struggled with several bags, their handles digging into her forearms before she dropped them with a huff by the kitchen entrance. You sighed, rising slowly from your seat and making your way into the house, Jisung trailing behind you nervously, the tray in his hands trembling slightly.
The moment your mother caught sight of him, her eyes widened in surprise, and her mouth fell open in a comical gasp. You remained stoically at the threshold, stepping aside to allow her a clearer view of Jisung. He bowed deeply, his cheeks flushed a vibrant shade of red.
“Hello, Mrs. L/N,” he began, his voice tinged with a polite nervousness. “I apologize for showing up unannounced.”
The transformation in your mother’s expression was instantaneous. Her face broke into a beaming smile, and you could feel the familiar sense of dread settle over you. You could already anticipate the endless barrage of questions and well-meaning commentary that was sure to follow once Jisung left.
“Nonsense,” she said, waving her hand dismissively as though to brush away any formalities. “You must be Jisung? Munhee’s son?”
Jisung nodded, his bow still in place. “Yes, that is my mother.”
“Oh!” Your mother’s delight was palpable. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you in person. Munhee has told me so much about you, and she wasn’t exaggerating when she said you’ve become quite the handsome young man.”
Jisung’s blush deepened to an almost comical shade of crimson, and you had to suppress a smile. Stepping forward, you interrupted before the conversation could become even more uncomfortable.
“He just came to return my cane, which I left at the coffee shop yesterday. He was about to leave now.”
Your mother’s disappointment was evident as she took in the news. “Oh, but you must stay a little longer! I’ll prepare lunch for both of you.”
“No, Mom,” you insisted gently, though with firmness. “He’s got a busy day ahead, but perhaps another time.”
You began to make your way towards the front door, reaching for chairs and walls for support. Sitting on the swing for so long had left you a bit unsteady.
“I-I can help bring in the groceries before I leave, if there’s any left,” Jisung offered unexpectedly, his face still flushed but his eyes earnest.
Your mother hesitated, starting to protest that you would be helping her with that task. Jisung, however, persisted, insisting it was the least he could do since his visit had caused you to miss her calls. Her resistance melted away, and she relented with a grateful nod.
You watched, standing by the kitchen, as Jisung moved in and out of the house with bags full of groceries. His willingness to assist touched you deeply, and you felt a genuine warmth in your chest when he finally announced that he was done.
As you reached out for the front door once more, your hand brushed against Jisung’s elbow. He looked at you with a sheepish smile, his eyes conveying a silent encouragement. You realized he was making a deliberate effort to ease your burden, both by helping your mother and by offering his support now. The gesture made your heart swell, and a soft blush crept over your cheeks once again.
The two of you walked together in a comfortable silence, each step measured and unhurried. When you reached the front door, you withdrew your hand and turned to him with a grateful smile.
“Thank you for bringing my cane and for all your help today,” you said, your voice sincere.
“It was no trouble at all,” Jisung replied with a gentle smile. He clumsily turned to leave, his nerves palpable yet endearing.
As he stepped away, your mother’s voice called out from the kitchen, breaking the moment. “So, how do you like him?”
You looked back at Jisung, who was now at the edge of the driveway, his back turned as he walked away. You felt a flutter of something warm and hopeful in your chest as you deliberately refused to respond to your mother’s question.
posted: 07 • 30 • 2024
꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx
꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Series taglist: @jisunglyricist @mitchii @skzstan12345 (Comment down below to be added!)
🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!
okay i promise this is the last one for know since i know your requests are piling up😭
it’s a bit of a change of pace from what i usually ask for, but would you be comfortable writing a small ot6 reaction of how the heroes would be with an autistic/adhd partner?
like how they’d react to their stims or going on and on about their special interests? maybe helping them when they experience sensory overload or burnout? how they react to that autistic rizz😎
i saw on your “about me” page that you also have audhd, so i know i can trust you with this topic. and as you know i’m moving back home from another country, and i really struggle with transitioning, so these new couple weeks are going to be so mentally and physically exhausting.
again, only if you’re comfortable writing it!! i know mental disabilities aren’t the easiest topics to talk about, let alone write about!!
okay i promise i’m done for now. sending lots of love🫶🫶
- 🍀
This was genuinely such a pleasure to write 🥹 I can't even explain how soft this made me as I was proofreading it, I love it so much 💕 I do have to preface the fact that the way I decided to portray AuDHD in these pieces is mostly similar to the way it presents in me, but of course, not everyone's AuDHD looks the same! Still, I tried to keep it as relatable as I could. I especially dedicated Junhan's part to you, so I hope it brings you some kind of comfort during these hard times 🥺🫶
I won't even lie, I don't think I've ever really written something like this before, so it was kind of a head-scratcher for me for a little bit while I tried to figure out how to approach it because like you said, it can be quite difficult to talk/write about disabilities in general (and we all know that ADHD and autism are just one big spectrum, so it makes it just a little more complicated). But I'm actually really happy with how it came out, and it ended up being so self-indulgent and fun, so thank you!
Can I ask by what date you're supposed to have already moved? You don't have to answer, of course, I'm just curious.
SIDE NOTE: I received your message this morning and again, please don't apologize! I seriously completely understand that life is hectic recently, so please — make sure to take deep breaths and rest when you need to, make sure to eat and hydrate yourself for extra strength! That said, thank you for answering my question! I haven't had the chance to really touch it yet, but I have a few ideas that I want to try and see if it fits the vibe I want to go for with the threesome 🤭 ── ( 𝐱𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 )
─── ⋆⋅☆ STEADY LOVE
( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 7.4k
Oh Merin, I’m so so glad you enjoyed this 🥹 Thank you so much for all the support you’ve given me for all this time and for the patience, you’re seriously such a treasured gem 💕🫶
🎇 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 ( stray kids )
❛ You and your lover, Changbin, explore the depths of your relationship through an intimate art session, where Changbin’s skin becomes your canvas for emotional expression.
𝐬𝐞𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧 + g. neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ) 2.8k
꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This piece was requested a while ago by my beloved mootie, Merin! It was such a sweet prompt, honestly, and I am really happy with how it came out. Requests are currently open! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, Established relationship, Y/N is afraid of initiating any kind of intimacy, I would consider this to be vague smut — maybe it should be labeled as suggestive? Probably not actually, romantic sex, making a mess with wet paint during sex, descriptions of anxiety, let me know if I missed anything!
( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 )
꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!
“You have to turn around or I won’t do it,” you huff with feigned annoyance, a thin veil over your mounting anxiety. The words come out sharper than intended, a desperate attempt to mask the tremor in your voice. Changbin pouts, his lower lip jutting out in a way that’s both endearing and maddening, but he complies, turning his back to you. The playful pout is a façade, a small rebellion against the uncertainty that lingers in the air between you.
He had asked you to use him as a canvas, an unusual request that was meant to surprise and unsettle you. The idea was simple in theory but fraught with emotional complexity. During your free time, painting was your solace, a means to escape into a world where you could create beauty out of nothing. You were accustomed to painting on your own skin, using it as a blank slate for your artistic expression. But this situation was different. Changbin, your lover, was not just a body; he was a living, breathing embodiment of your deepest feelings and insecurities. His presence was electric, a constant reminder of the power he wielded over you with the slightest glance or touch.
The mere thought of painting Changbin was both thrilling and terrifying. His skin, normally the subject of your artistic fantasies, now became the canvas upon which your emotions would be laid bare. Each brushstroke would be an intimate declaration, a blend of color and sensation that went beyond mere artistry. The stakes felt incredibly high, and the vulnerability you felt was almost overwhelming. It wasn't just about the painting; it was about the raw, unspoken exchange of trust and affection that came with it. As you prepared your paints and brushes, the flutter in your chest spoke louder than words, a testament to the profound impact Changbin had on your life.
Eventually, all of your painting supplies were meticulously arranged, a testament to your preparation and anticipation. The array of colors and brushes, each placed with care, awaits the moment when they will come to life. Despite Changbin’s back being turned to you, despite the full control you have over this artistic endeavor, and despite the gentle, tender nature that defines him, an inescapable fear grips you tightly. It’s a fear that seems to rise with each breath you take, a curse that has followed you through the months of your relationship, even after four years of friendship.
You still find it nearly impossible to initiate any form of intimacy, a struggle that feels like a heavy weight on your heart. Changbin, ever perceptive and understanding, is acutely aware of your struggle. You can't help but wonder if this request to be your canvas was his way of gently nudging you past your barriers, a subtle invitation to confront your fears. The sight of his toned, bare back, illuminated by the golden sunlight streaming through your windows, is almost too breathtaking to bear. The natural light caresses his skin, highlighting the contours and making him look like a living masterpiece.
You reach for the paintbrush with a hesitant hand, your fingers trembling despite your best efforts to steady them. Each brushstroke will be a step toward bridging the gap between your fears and your desires. The internal turmoil roiling within you feels almost insurmountable, yet Changbin remains a pillar of patience and quiet support. His silence is filled with anticipation, a silent encouragement that heightens the intensity of the moment. As you begin, his breath hitches, a subtle reminder of the vulnerability and trust that this act of painting symbolizes.
“Don’t think, love,” Changbin murmurs softly, his voice a gentle whisper that seems to float in the space between you. There is a delicate fear in his tone, as if the very act of raising his voice might shatter the fragile bubble of intimacy you both are nestled within. His words are meant to soothe, to gently guide you through the swirling maelstrom of anxiety that threatens to engulf you. “Let your hand decide what to do first, like it does with every other painting.”
His encouragement is tender, a quiet plea for you to relinquish the hold of overthinking and simply trust in your own instincts. The way he addresses you, with such care and understanding, reveals his deep awareness of your inner struggle. The idea of allowing your hand to move freely, unburdened by conscious thought, is both comforting and daunting. It’s a call to embrace the organic flow of creativity, to let your artistic instincts take the lead just as they do with every other canvas.
In his gentle insistence, there is an underlying promise of safety and acceptance, a reassurance that you are not alone in this moment. His soft voice, laden with affection, is a beacon that guides you through your hesitation, offering a pathway to overcome the fear that clutches at your heart. As you absorb his words, you feel a shift within, a subtle easing of the tension as you prepare to let your hands move with the grace and freedom that Changbin so patiently encourages.
You exhale shakily, a soft, uneven breath escaping your lips as you close your eyes for a fleeting moment. The brief respite is a small sanctuary from the storm of emotions raging within you. With a deep, albeit hesitant, breath, you allow the brush to make its tentative contact with his back. The sensation is both thrilling and disconcerting, a tangible reminder of the intimacy you’re trying to navigate.
Your heart pounds erratically, lodged firmly in your throat, as if each beat is a protest against the simplicity of the act. The sensation of the brush against his skin is strangely overwhelming, and you can’t help but feel a touch of absurdity at the intensity of your reaction. The thought strikes you with a sting: why should something so seemingly simple provoke such a profound response?
You frown at the self-criticism, a mix of frustration and self-doubt clouding your thoughts. The very act that should be a natural extension of your creativity now feels like an insurmountable barrier. You remain frozen in place, the brush hovering delicately against his back, your mind tangled in a web of conflicting emotions and the weight of your own insecurities.
“First contact, good,” Changbin says softly, his voice filled with genuine warmth and encouragement. His praise, though directed at the simplest of actions, carries a weight of sincerity that pierces through your anxieties. The way he acknowledges your effort with such kindness and appreciation makes your heart swell with a mix of emotions.
Each word of praise from him feels like a tender caress, a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. It’s as if his approval alone has the power to lift the heaviness from your shoulders. Yet, amidst the comfort of his support, a pang of sorrow tugs at your heart. You can’t help but feel that Changbin, with his unwavering patience and boundless kindness, is deserving of so much more than you can offer.
The realization settles heavily within you: he is too good, too pure, and his affection for you only highlights the depth of your own insecurities. The disparity between his gentle, unselfish nature and your own self-doubt feels almost unbearable. As you grapple with the bittersweet ache of his praise, the profound sense of his worth and the feeling of inadequacy intertwine, leaving you with a lingering ache for him and the love you fear you might not fully deserve.
“I can’t do this,” you sniff, your voice trembling as you pull the brush away from his back. The words are more a cry of frustration than a simple admission of difficulty. Your hands feel unsteady, and the weight of your own insecurities feels almost too much to bear in this moment of vulnerability.
Changbin remains motionless, his presence a steady, reassuring anchor in the midst of your turmoil. Despite your agitation, he does not waver. His voice cuts through your self-doubt with a calm and unwavering reassurance. “You did good, love, you made the first contact — now keep going.”
His encouragement is gentle, yet insistent, a soft nudge to continue despite the internal resistance that threatens to pull you away. The words carry an undercurrent of faith and support, a reminder that progress has been made and that there is a path forward. Changbin’s steadiness provides a counterbalance to the storm of emotions within you, his calm demeanor a beacon of hope as you grapple with the feeling of inadequacy. His trust in your abilities and his unwavering patience offer a precious glimmer of confidence, urging you to overcome the hesitation and embrace the next step.
You found yourself caught between two conflicting desires: the longing to touch him, to feel the warmth and softness of his skin beneath your fingertips, and the impulse to abandon the entire exercise in a wave of self-doubt. It was a precarious balance, and every moment felt fraught with the tension of your inner struggle. Yet, it was Changbin’s gentle, affirming praise that kept you tethered, a constant reassurance that dispelled the doubts threatening to hold you back. His words, tender and encouraging, provided a steady anchor amidst the churning sea of your uncertainties.
Changbin’s beauty, so striking and profound, seemed almost overwhelming in its intensity. The sight of him, so effortlessly captivating, made it difficult to process your own emotions. The paintbrush in your hand danced across his back with a new fervor, as if guided by an unseen force. The vibrant hues of oranges and yellows spilled across his skin, transforming his usually plain canvas into a vibrant display of color and emotion. The image you painted was a burst of fireworks, a visual symphony meant to capture the depth of the feelings he stirred within you.
Occasionally, your free hand would find its way to his back, a tentative gesture that spoke volumes more than words could. It was a gesture of closeness and reassurance, a small but significant effort to bridge the gap between your hesitations and his unwavering support. Each touch was a deliberate step towards overcoming your fears for his sake. As you put the final touches on the painting, a sense of accomplishment washed over you. The work, now complete, was a testament to the emotions Changbin had evoked and a reflection of the journey you had navigated together.
After admiring and praising your work through the bathroom mirror, Changbin returned to kneel before you, a look of dazed contentment lingering in his eyes. The intimate moment you’d shared while painting him had left an imprint on him, and it was evident in the softened, reverent way he now regarded you. His voice, barely more than a murmur, was tinged with a gentle, almost reverential tone as he took your hands in his and requested you to touch his face.
The intensity of his gaze was nearly too much to bear, a silent plea that seemed to pierce through your defenses. You almost refused, the weight of his unspoken emotions making it difficult to act. In a bid to soften the moment and manage your own trepidation, you asked him to close his eyes. His response was immediate and graceful, a serene smile playing at the corners of his lips as he complied with your request.
Your hands trembled slightly as you lifted them to cup his face, the act both intimate and nerve-wracking. The contact was met with an immediate reaction — a shiver that coursed through his body, a physical manifestation of the deep emotional connection that had been kindled between you. The sensation of his warm skin under your trembling fingers was both grounding and electrifying, a testament to the vulnerability and trust that had been shared in this quiet, tender moment.
The shoulders were your next focus, and your fingertips traced their contours with a delicate touch, as light as a feather. Each movement was deliberate, a gentle exploration that sent ripples of sensation across Changbin's skin. You watched intently as goosebumps emerged, spreading across his body in response to your touch. Despite the palpable reaction, his eyes remained closed, a gesture of trust that deepened the intimacy of the moment.
Changbin's hands rested calmly on his knees as he continued to kneel before you, his posture a silent testament to his patience and willingness. He didn’t shift or flinch, his stillness adding to the weight of the moment. It was an experience that was both terrifying and exhilarating, a profound blend of emotions that left you on edge and in awe.
As you allowed your hands to move freely, a newfound sense of power and connection emerged. You ventured across his chest, tracing the ridges of his biceps and the smooth planes of his belly. Each touch was a discovery, a chance to map the landscape of his body and to feel the subtle changes in his breathing and muscle tension. The freedom to explore his skin, to feel the warmth and texture under your hands, was both a privilege and a revelation, marking a deepening of the bond you shared.
Eventually, a surge of bravery propelled you forward, and you allowed your lips to gently meet his. The contact was electric, an immediate and fervent exchange as he responded to your kiss with equal passion. Changbin sighed contentedly into your mouth, his lips moving with a depth and intensity that mirrored the emotions swirling between you. You surrendered to the warmth and connection of the moment, letting him lead the kiss as you immerse yourself in the shared intimacy.
As the kiss deepened, the atmosphere shifted, and soon the two of you found yourselves on the ground. The transition was both spontaneous and fluid, a natural progression of the intimate exchange that had begun with your kiss. In the heat of the moment, your hands, which had once traced delicate patterns on his back, now inadvertently smeared the artwork you had so carefully created. The paint, which had once been a canvas of emotions, was now spread across both your bodies.
Your hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of his skin, while he moved with a rhythm that was both euphoric and synchronistic. The paint became an unwitting participant in your passion, staining your bodies as you both lost yourselves in the ecstasy of the experience. The ground beneath you was forgotten, replaced by the intense connection and shared vulnerability that defined the moment.
His rhythmic movements were a symphony of whispered confessions of love, each tender murmur sending your mind drifting away on a cloud of pure pleasure. The combination of his words and actions created an overwhelming yet exhilarating sensation that filled every corner of your consciousness. Each whisper was a thread weaving into the fabric of your shared ecstasy, intensifying the connection between you.
The melodies of your intertwined breaths and muted moans became the only sounds that reverberated through your apartment, a private concert of intimacy and passion. The room was enveloped in the hushed symphony of your bodies moving together, a melody of love and desire that seemed to echo off the walls.
A thin layer of sweat formed a glistening sheen on both of your skins, the evidence of your fervent connection. The last rays of the setting sun cast a warm, fading light that mingled with the dimming hues of night, creating a soft glow that highlighted the tender vulnerability of the moment. As the daylight surrendered to the encroaching darkness, the scene became a portrait of intimate beauty, a snapshot of a night filled with profound emotional and physical connection.
It was no surprise when you both reached the pinnacle of your shared experience simultaneously. The strained, almost primal sounds that escaped you both were a testament to the overwhelming, all-consuming pleasure that enveloped you. The intensity of the moment was almost too much to bear, a crescendo of sensation and emotion that left you breathless.
Amidst the euphoria, the purity of the love you had just shared became palpable, stirring emotions so deep that tears began to roll down your cheeks. Each tear was a manifestation of the profound connection and overwhelming affection you felt for him. Your heart ached with a fierce love, and you found yourself wanting to express it with every fiber of your being.
He responded to your silent confession with words of his own, his voice tender and filled with sincerity. As he kissed away each tear that stained your cheeks, his eyes held a softness that you had never seen before, a gentle radiance that spoke of the depth of his feelings. A tender smile curved at his lips, amplifying the beauty of the moment. His presence was nothing short of devastatingly beautiful, and in that intimate, vulnerable space, you felt a profound sense of gratitude and disbelief at your fortune. To have a lover so deeply attuned to you, so wonderfully perfect in your eyes, was a gift you could scarcely believe you had received.
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