I Could Only Ever Dream Of Having Thought Of Something As Achingly Beautiful As This Piece Of Art. This

i will cry right now omg thank you ❣️🥹

Hi green! Since you've left me some lovely requests, I thought I'd leave you one! I'm in love with the friends to love trope, so if you could do something like that with Felix, I'd eat it up. I'm thinking of something like the reader (gn please) has a really hard day and decides to go to Felix, but then it starts raining, so when Felix opens the door, reader is soaking wet and distressed. You can do anything from there! Again, I love your writing, so anything you come up with will be undoubtedly amazing. Hope you're doing well! <3

everything is you.

other works by green.

pairing: felix x gender neutral reader

content warnings: hurt/comfort, mentions of parental abandonment years prior, mentions of recent death of a parent, smoking weed, daddy issues

rating: 13+

summary: through every single hardship you'd ever endured, felix always waited for you, ready to bring you into the safety of his embrace. so when you're stuck amidst the complicated emotions following your father's recent passing, the first and only person you sought for comfort was your best friend.

Echoes of the youth you’d spent in this house haunted the eerie hallways of this vacant home. Every inch of this familiar place has remained the same, though you certainly haven’t. Sitting on the front porch floor, a joint you’d just rolled burning between your fingers as you watch the rain pour outside, a vacant expression on your face as you decided on what to do. The initial plan was to walk towards your best friend’s house, which was a short walk away but the sky seemed to have other plans. And so you remained there, stuck sitting beside a box full of letters addressed to you, but that had never been sent – all written by your father. 

Too many times you had driven past him on your way to visit your best friend, making the point to keep your eyes on the road in case your father sat out front like he sometimes tended to do. The two of you had never been on good terms, especially since your mother left when you were a teenager to chase another man who’d made empty promises to her, and your father didn’t know the first thing about caring about another human being. It wasn’t a surprise to anybody when you left without a word the very minute you were old enough to do so and never returned. And yet, here you were, years since you’d gone – a box of letters he’d written to you though never sent, and you knew you didn’t have the nerve to open them alone. 

An exasperated sigh escaped your lips, pulling your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans for what was possibly the millionth time only to be met by the same symbol of no signal available for you to message Felix, the aforementioned best friend – the boy you’ve known since you could barely form a sentence due to living so close to each other. He was the kind of guy who would smile a little bit wider whenever his eyes landed on you, the one to allow you to lash out when you were angry despite how sensitive he was because he wanted you to feel better, the one to remember your birthday and plan something intimate and special even if nobody else bothered, the one to pay attention to the little things you would mention in passing and always remember – he was very much in love with you, had been for a very long time and you were well aware. But he never mentioned it directly, and you decided that you wouldn’t bring it up either because you knew that the reality of this lifetime is that you were made to destroy and hurt while he was made to heal and rebuild and you couldn’t risk having him be the next victim.

In moments like these, while alone with your thoughts that slowed down from the flower you smoked that still seemed to suffocate you all the same, you wished things were different. If only you were a stable human being, good enough for him to safely lay his head on your shoulder the way a lover would do, someone who’s sane and loving and all things good – all of which you were not – then perhaps he would be sitting beside you already, encouraging you to open the first letter while being ready to kiss your forehead at the first sign of distress. It’s selfish, and you knew, but as the screen of your useless phone remained blank you couldn’t help but wish his name would pop up. 

Your mind swirled with thoughts that made it harder to breathe with each passing second. The box of letters beside you. No signal. Felix’s smile. Childhood home. Your mother leaving. Your father’s cold demeanor. Yourself.

Not willing to wait for the rain to end, but also not wanting to dwell in here any longer, you grunted as you put out your joint and walked inside. A plastic sheet that covered one of the cushioned chairs in the living room was the only thing you took before making a b-line back outside. You lazily throw the sheet over the box, struggling only slightly to lift it before leaving the shelter from the rain, instantly drenched as the it offered no mercy. Barely able to keep your eyes open, you followed the same path you’ve walked a thousand times throughout your life, the pull of your best friend’s comfort and warmth being the true source of your rush as your pace quickened.

The neighborhood was the same, with the same married couples still residing in them – though most of their children were gone, already having moved on in their adult lives as their parents awaited for the next holiday to see them again. Everywhere you looked, a memory tied you to Felix as though his entire, beautiful being had been burned into your consciousness forever. Perhaps he had been, not that you would complain about it one bit if that were the case.

Felix’s childhood home came into view at last, and you all but sprinted clumsily with the box in your hands as your mind, body and heart yearned for his strong arms around you. Your heart was pumping blood through your veins harshly by the time you’d made it to his front door, dropping the box at your feet before banging on his wooden door. The air was having a hard time reaching your lungs and you realized that you were crying now that the rain was not hammering onto your skin – flashbacks of a similar scene played in your head, your teenage self distressed after you’d read your mother’s goodbye letter and your grief engulfed you and sent you down a spiral while the scene of your father sitting on the dinner table reading his newspaper and sipping coffee as you screamed at him to see you and your broken heart left at the departure of your mother. Your fists shaking as you gave up, falling onto your knees in despair just as the door swung open. 

A wide-eyed Felix stood before you, shocked to see you in such a state and so late at night. It only took him half a second to react as he practically threw himself onto the ground and pulled you into the safety of his embrace despite how drenched you were. A sob you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back escaped your lips, and the gravity of the fact that you were officially alone dawned on you. Your heart ached in a way you couldn’t describe and all you could truly focus on was the fresh scent of his blueberry shampoo and vanilla soap on him as you briefly realized you must’ve caught him getting out of the shower. 

“Hey, hey,” Felix attempted to pull away slightly to speak to you but you tighten your hold on his torso, not quite ready to let go yet. “I thought you wouldn’t be here until tomorrow.”

You said nothing, silently cursing yourself for being so weak – crying over a man who had never even smiled in your direction. 

“Felix, darling, what was all that noise?”

The sound of Felix’s mother’s sleepy voice caused you to jerk away from him, cheeks heating up in shame. You were on your feet in a second, bowing deeply to the kind woman who’d supported you through all of your hardships. 

“I– I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking when I came here, making all that noise. I just–”

“Nonsense,” Mrs. Lee waved you off with a concerned smile. “I’ve been telling you for years that you’re welcomed here at any time of day. Come in, darling, you’ll catch a cold. Come!”

Felix moved out of the way so that you could enter his home, pushing you away when you tried to grab a hold of the box you’d carried through the rain so that he could take care of it himself. You knew that you must’ve looked deranged, but there was no hint of judgment in their eyes as they watched you take your shoes off at the entrance. Mrs. Lee guided you into the living room by the shoulders despite the fact that you knew your way through the house like the back of your hand. The tenderness of such a simple touch made your sight blurry with tears that you refused to release this time. 

“Darling, go take a warm shower and Felix will bring you a fresh towel and some spare clothes for you to change into, deal?” Mrs. Lee raised her brows as she waited for your response, you merely nodded. “Good, have you eaten?”

“N– No.”

“I’ll heat up some leftovers from tonight’s dinner, then.”

With that, she rushed over to the kitchen. You remained in the same spot though, letting the rain drip onto the floor as your body trembled from the chill the weather outside had instilled into you. Felix gently dropped the box on the couch, paying no mind to the wet plastic sheet that was still covering its contents. 

“Y/N,” Felix said, voice low and warm. “You told me you were coming tomorrow in the afternoon. Why are you here?”

“I lied,” you sighed defeatedly. “I just didn’t want you to worry too much and I thought that I could– I thought that I would be able to go in there myself. And I really was fine, really…until I found that stupid box.”

He glanced back at the box behind him, sighing. Felix didn’t say anything, choosing instead to lead you towards the second floor and into the bathroom he typically shared with his sisters, closing the door behind you. 

While standing under the scalding hot water in the shower by yourself, you couldn’t help but scold yourself at the lack of impulse control. You could have knocked like a normal person, instead you simply decided that you would bang on his door as though your life was in danger which in turn startled everyone in the house and probably the neighbors as well. The thing that had you so upset was not something that couldn’t wait until tomorrow, it wasn’t urgent at all. It was just a dumb box filled with letters that you’d never received while your father had been alive. So dramatic, you chided. 

Just when you were about to shut the water off, you heard the bathroom door open quietly while you assumed Felix gathered your wet clothing and replaced them with fresh ones along with a towel. Once the door closed again, you drew the curtains back to be proved right. You dressed quickly, not bothering to brush your hair as you made your way back down and into the kitchen only to find that Mrs. Lee was no longer there, instead you found Felix looking for chopsticks for you to use while you ate. 

“I told my mom to head to bed,” Felix informed you without looking up, placing the chopsticks on a napkin beside your warm plate. “What’s in the box?”

Your feet felt heavy with each step you took closer to your meal – to him. You leaned your lower back against the counter, gingerly taking the plate into your hands. “My father wrote me letters. A whole lot of them. But he never sent them.” 

Felix’s eyes remained on you, taking his place right beside you, leaving only a hair’s distance in between. In order to not get distracted by this silly fact, you shoved your first bite into your mouth even though you didn’t feel particularly hungry. He didn’t seem to notice, only waiting patiently like he always did. 

“The house hasn’t changed a single bit since I left,” you swallowed, voice thick. “I could tell exactly where he spent the majority of his time– the same spot at the head of the dinner table where he left stacks upon stacks of newspapers he never did bother to throw out, the reclining chair right in front of the TV where his weight had left its mark over the years, and his room that was a complete mess of clothes and books and papers and everything he ever used was thrown onto the ground.”

Another bite. Felix still said nothing. 

“My room was left intact,” you continued. “It almost felt like time had stopped when I left, and the clock only continued when I walked in again. It was clean– my father kept his own room in chaos but cleaned my room. Not a speck of dust anywhere, and I checked.” 

A third bite and then you set the practically full plate back onto the counter, you didn’t have the appetite to finish it. Felix wordlessly cleaned the area and left your plate in the fridge. 

“I think the only thing that changed there was that all the family photos were taken down.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut as your breath becomes slightly shaky. “Not even put away, he just– took them and smashed them on the floor and left everything there. I can’t help but wonder just how long ago that was, and how many times he turned a blind eye to the broken glass as he stepped over them.

And then I went down to the basement, and everything was pretty much the same except for this stupid box. All of the letters with my name and address written on the envelope and I just– I lost it. I don’t know what to think anymore, of him…of anything.”

Felix’s arms suddenly wrapped around you tightly, surprising you for a second before you returned the gesture. Your heart was beating erratically in your chest despite this not being the first time he’d hugged you, but this one felt like it did when you were a teenager. It was strong, yet gentle; protective, yet freeing. Although it’d only been a few weeks since you’d seen him, you missed him deeply. You had left town, and he remained here with his family and his happy childhood memories – though you visited often and he did as well, but still; you missed him deeply. 

“I think that your father loved you in his own twisted way,” Felix murmured in your ear at last, arms tightening around you. “He was hurting, too. And you still didn’t deserve any of the things he did and didn’t do to you, because you were hurting and you were the child. But I think he loved you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes once more, hands shaking as you gripped Felix’s blue hoodie. 

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ☀️

The rain had stopped after a while, so you and Felix took advantage of that and sat on the roof right outside his bedroom window like you’d done a thousand times before. Overlooking the neighborhood in the dead of night as you lighted up the freshly rolled joint between your lips, inhaling the comforting flower before exhaling its smoke. The weight on your shoulders and mind was lifted as your anxiety dulled and your body relaxed. You passed the joint to Felix, who mimicked your actions. 

Your tears had long since dried, and the box had been left in the living room as you decided not to look at them tonight. Instead, you focused on the serene atmosphere that surrounded you and Felix like a warm hug. He passed the joint back to you, though you didn’t immediately bring it up to your lips again, letting it burn slightly between your thumb and index finger. Your eyes slowly found their way to Felix’s that had already been on you, analyzing you in the same way he had always done. You couldn’t tell if the glitter in his eyes were a reflection of the stars in the sky, or if they were truly his though they looked enchanting anyway. His smile widened when he noticed you meet his intense gaze and your heart burned at the sight, thinking back to your train of thought back on the front porch of your childhood home right before you’d come here. 

After all of these years, all of the tears, grief, arguments, and lashing out – he remained beside you, eyes on you as if you’d placed the sun in the sky yourself. You would never understand how he could stay by you when everyone else had left, there was nothing special about you other than your cutting tongue and vengeful heart. Though you couldn’t help but soften at the sight of him and his optimistic way of seeing the world. He was far too good, too pure for you or anyone else. And yet he sat there, subtly inching closer to you though you had still noticed. 

Lee Felix was in love with you, and had been for a long time. You were well aware, and had been for a long time. Though he never mentioned it directly and you decided that ignoring this would protect both you and him; but after all of this time, perhaps you’d maybe fallen in love with him too. It would be impossible not to let your own smile widen at the sight of his brown eyes watching you with so much genuine gentleness, to not feel your heart quicken every time he touched you, to not think of him when your bed was empty and cold, to not wish with every aching cell in your body that you were not as damaged as you were so that maybe, just maybe you would have a chance of deserving such a rare soul. 

Despite knowing all of this, you allowed him to move closer to you as the joint became smaller and smaller with each pass between the two of you. Eventually, your arms and legs were touching, and you could practically feel Felix’s erratic heartbeat. 

“What are you thinking about?” You surprised yourself by asking him, pointedly staring at the streetlamp directly in front of Felix’s house. His breath hitched slightly, though he didn’t say anything for a few moments. 

“I don’t know,” he eventually mumbled with a half-shrug. “Everything, I guess.”

“What is everything, Felix?”

His eyes met yours, wide with curiosity as he attempted to read you. Your own veins were pulsing with adrenaline from your boldness, though somehow you weren’t as mad about it as you thought you would be.

“I– I’m not sure.”

“I don’t believe you. What is everything?”

This was everything against what you’d done since you noticed his feelings for you, this was not keeping a safe distance. But you couldn’t help it, it was as though your heart had finally gained control over your brain and was pushing you to confront your own feelings for the first time in years. Because the truth is, your heart did burn for him in a way you couldn’t explain; it fluttered and skipped a beat a thousand times whenever he was around and it had been for as long as you could think back. You didn’t deserve him, but he thought the world of you – so maybe that was worth something. 

“Everything is–” Felix’s eyes searched yours, his breathing picking up slightly. “Everything is you.”

If your heart either exploded or simply stopped beating, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least. His words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the smile that snuck onto your face. 

“Good.” You stated, putting out what little was left of your shared joint on the roof before moving to straddle him, and you might as well have pushed him off and onto the ground before with the way the wind seemed to have been knocked out of him. His eyes were so wide, so surprised yet so excited. “To me, everything is you, too.”

His eyes scanned yours for a moment before he released an incredulous, airy chuckle. He didn’t get the chance to say anything, however, as your lips met his for the first time and the world melted away.

word count: 3.3k ☀️ posted: 12 • 05 • 2023

💬 a note from green;

Thank you so much for the request! I truly, truly enjoyed writing this for you. I just sat here and the words just kept flowing and flowing and I just couldn't stop, so I hope you enjoy it! (Side note though: I'm sorry if this a bit darker for your taste, I read it back and was like 'yikes, didn't mean to start off like that'.)

Anyway! I appreciate your compliments, always. Your feedback is something I genuinely look forward to every time I post, and so I'm happy that we're mutuals out here supporting each other because honestly – you're a magnificent writer as well, so I can promise that every time I think of something new for you, I'll grab my phone and tell you all about it no matter where I am!

Again, I hope you enjoyed this and thank you!

🪲 TAGLIST !

# @grandpafelixx

wdym forgotten i literally could never forget you :((( you dont have to apologise though, its completely understandable that you needed time<3

ive been okay-ish ??? i think lol i had my ups and downs and now im just kinda meh but its alright hehe also uni has been quite fun actually for me and turns out im not that bad at my major as i thought🫡

also !! there's been a lot going on but the boys attended the met gala recently and im pretty sure theyre preparing for a comeback rn ^^

now !! tell me how have you been ???❤️

— 👒

you’re the absolute sweetest 🥹 i appreciate you so much thank you for all your support and understanding

i’m glad uní has been so good for you! you’re so smart my goodness, i love that <3

i did see the whole met gala thing! don’t they look dreamy? i also saw how disrespectful and racist the photographers were being and as a poc myself i was livid for them, especially when the boys understand english, especially chan and felix. but even with all of that, they all looked so handsome and pretty. and the comeback??? i barely survived the last one guys have mercy on me (please don’t).

i have been okay…i struggle a lot with school and im lowkey avoiding looking at my grades because i’m not sure what i’ll do after if they’re not good. my girlfriend and i are good, just separated (in distance? for the first time since january 5th last week so now i can’t sleep as well as i used to. and now im just home!

i’m the anon that requested the junhan fic and oh my god it was better than anything i could’ve imagined!! i am also a huge fan of pegging and xdinary heroes is my ult so if you don’t mind i might be sending a few more requests like this your way 👀

also could i be 🍀 anon please? thank you!!

Hey! It makes me so happy to know you enjoyed it! I was so excited when I received a request for XDH since there’s not many fics for them on here. I was also especially excited because it was for my bias 🤭 That said, you’re more than welcome to make more requests!

Also, of course you can be my 🍀 anon! Welcome to the family!

family (seo changbin x fem!reader)

no warnings, fluff, husband&dad!changbin crumbles

author's note: teeny tiny drabble bc i thought this idea was cute, lmk if you like it !! also, i opened my requests so if you have any ideas you'd want me to write feel more than welcome to send them to me🥸

“c’mon daddy, go!” you heard your daughter whisper from behind the door. you checked the time – it was late, a bit too late for her to be up.

“jieun?” you called her and heard a small oops. then you saw with the corner of your eye your little copy standing in the entrance to your bedroom. 

“can i have a goodnight kiss?” she asked, smiling widely at your reflection in the mirror. you turned to face her with arms spread to hug her and she didn’t waste any second, running into your embrace. you kissed her cheeks and forehead as she giggled. “okay, bye mommy!” she exclaimed, hugging you one more time and running out of the room. you chuckled, turning again to take off your jewellery and brush your hair as you heard your daughter whisper again. “you’ve got this daddy!” she said and then you heard her run to her bed with a sweet giggle, closing the door behind. you wondered what kind of secret was shared between her and changbin as he slowly entered your bedroom with rosy cheeks. he took a few steps closer to you and you met his shy gaze in the mirror.

“what’s going on?” you asked in a curious tone when changbin stood right behind you and grabbed your hairbrush. 

“nothing,” he whispered, reaching to your hair to untangle them. it took you by surprise as changbin was never too keen to do your hair before bed. you looked at his reflection but his eyes were focused on his task, making sure to be as gentle as possible. a pleasant shiver went down your spine and you closed your eyes, relaxing into changbin’s bare chest. 

“god, this feels nice.” 

“yeah?” he asked with a smirk and you let out a faint mhm, but soon he was over, placing your hairbrush down onto your vanity. 

“hey!” you exclaimed jokingly, earning a chuckle from him. 

“stay still, baby. i’m not done.” with these words he ran his fingers through your hair and gently grabbed it to start braiding it. you watched in disbelief as his fingers worked slowly but with an expert manner through your hair. “you have no idea what jieun’s doll went through for me to learn it,” he giggled, not daring to look at you, the blush on his face slowly making its way down onto his neck and chest. 

“wait, is that why you insisted on reading her bedtime stories for the past two weeks?” you inquired as realisation suddenly hit you. changbin didn’t say anything, smirking as he was done with your hair, finishing his work with jieun’s pink hair tie with a little butterfly. 

“done,” he whispered, placing a feather-like kiss on your temple, finally locking his eyes with yours. a familiar warmth spread through your chest as you turned to see the aftermath of changbin’s hard work. i love you, the braid seemed to scream. it was small things like that that made your heart swell and beat faster, even after being with changbin for so long. you couldn't stop thinking about the gesture even in the morning as you glanced in the mirror and saw the butterfly in your hair. and as your daughter woke up, running into your arms first thing in the morning and praising your hairstyle you knew you had everything you could’ve ever wanted in your life – a loving family.

taglist ! @astraystayyh @laylasbunbunny @l3visbby @like-a-diamondinthesky @hanjsquokka @xichien @xocandyy @minhosbitterriver

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❛ 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 )

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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!

WIP (Work In Progress) It Good

Reblog and let your followers ask!

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listening to stray kids, day6 and xdinary heroes while driving through a heavy thunderstorm is honestly so exhilarating when you’re a passenger princess

🪩 ARROGANT & GREEDY. ( xdinary heroes )

❛ While getting ready for a night out at the club with your friends, your boyfriend, Hyeongjun decides to tease you.

𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐮𝐧 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ) 4.5k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ 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, Junhan gets pegged, he's also a tease while wearing a skirt, smut, Reader uses strap, slight edging, let me know if I missed anything!

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

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

Your gaze lingered on your lover's short, pleated black skirt as he leaned over the bathroom sink, meticulously adjusting his hair. The soft glow of the bathroom light cast a golden hue over his delicate features, each movement accentuating his exquisite beauty in the stillness of the night. He looked effortlessly captivating, dressed in a rich red sweater over a plaid button-up, the collars of the shirt peeking playfully from beneath the sweater, adding a touch of classic charm to his ensemble. His look was completed with thick-platformed boots and red socks, a bold and shameless declaration of his unique style.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips, the sight of him igniting a tender warmth within you. The shirt you were about to pull on slipped from your fingers, forgotten, as you moved toward him. The cool air brushed against your bare torso, a detail that immediately caught Hyeongjun’s attention. As you approached, you placed your hands gently on his hips, your fingertips lightly pressing into the soft fabric of his skirt. Through the reflection in the mirror, you watched his eyes meet yours, a silent understanding passing between you. The moment felt suspended in time, a beautiful interlude of intimacy and affection amidst the stillness of the night.

Your touch was a quiet whisper of adoration, a testament to the unspoken bond you shared. Hyeongjun’s gaze softened, and a subtle, almost imperceptible smile curved his lips. The room seemed to hold its breath, the quiet hum of the world outside fading into the background. You reveled in the serene beauty of the moment, the simple act of being together, utterly and shamelessly yourselves. The night wrapped around you like a comforting blanket, each second a cherished echo of your unspoken connection.

"You look so pretty, baby," you murmured into his ear, your voice a soft caress. You felt a shiver run down his spine, a wave of satisfaction washing over you at his reaction. "I almost don't want others to see you like this."

His eyes met yours in the mirror, a mixture of appreciation and desire flickering within them. The intimacy of the moment deepened, the night cocooning you both in its gentle embrace. Each second stretched into an eternity, a beautifully crafted tapestry of shared secrets and silent promises.

At this, he giggled shyly, a soft sound that filled the quiet room, shaking his head lightly as if to dismiss your words. "Don’t start this, we promised our friends we’d be at the club on time," he murmured, his voice tinged with a playful reproach. Despite his protest, his body betrayed him, leaning back against your frame with a subtle, yielding motion.

The warmth of his back against your bare chest was a silent confession of his true intent, a wordless invitation that made you chuckle mischievously. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breath, the way his heartbeat subtly quickened in response to your presence. The air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken desires, the night deepening the sense of intimacy that enveloped you both.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer, your touch a blend of tenderness and teasing. The fabric of his skirt brushed against your skin, a tactile reminder of the delicate balance between restraint and indulgence. His head tilted slightly, allowing you to nuzzle into the crook of his neck, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the natural warmth of his skin.

Each moment stretched languidly, a beautifully choreographed dance of affection and longing. The promise of the night out with friends hung in the air, but here, in the intimate cocoon of the bathroom, time seemed to stand still. Your chuckle echoed softly, a shared secret between lovers, as you reveled in the exquisite tension that bound you together.

You hum in acknowledgment of his words, your voice a soft, melodic response that reverberates through the stillness of the night. Slowly, you trace your fingertips up his arms, savoring the way his breath catches in anticipation. The delicate dance of your touch elicits a shiver from him, each movement a silent promise of what is to come. “I’m sure they won’t miss us too much if we get there a bit later,” you murmur, your voice low and soothing. “They’ll probably already be drunk by then.”

As you speak, you press your body firmly against his, the warmth of your skin melding with his own. Your mouth finds its way to his neck, where you begin to plant a trail of sloppy kisses, each one imbued with a fervent urgency. The taste of his skin lingers on your lips, sweet and intoxicating. You stop just before reaching his collarbones or shoulders, having no intention of undressing him. The barrier of his clothes adds to the tantalizing allure of the moment.

Your hands roam towards his chest, caressing every inch of his torso with a reverent touch. You drape your body over his slender figure, pushing him gently so he leans over the sink. The cool porcelain contrasts with the heat between you, heightening the sensory experience. Your movements are deliberate, each one calculated to elicit a response from him.

Through all of this, he has become a whimpering mess, his eyes wide with desire as he watches you work him up through the mirror. His breath comes in shallow gasps, the intensity of the moment reflected in the way his body reacts to your touch. The sight of him, vulnerable and yearning, ignites a primal satisfaction within you. 

Your lips remained firmly planted on his skin, each kiss a fervent declaration of your desire. You moved with an eager urgency, your fingers scrambling slightly as you lifted his skirt up to his hips. The soft fabric slid upward, revealing more of his tantalizing form. Then, as your eyes traveled lower, your breath hitched in your throat.

The realization that Hyeongjun was not wearing any underwear struck you with a jolt of raw excitement. The sight was intoxicating, a bold and unexpected revelation that left you momentarily speechless. When you finally looked up to meet his gaze, you were greeted by a mischievous grin that played across his lips, his eyes twinkling with a daring glint.

This unexpected act of boldness sent a shiver down your spine, a rush of exhilaration surging through you. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, the sound reverberating in the quiet bathroom, mingling with the soft hum of the night outside. The air between you crackled with electricity, the intimate moment charged with an unspoken intensity that bound you together even more tightly.

Your hands roamed over his exposed skin, each touch a blend of reverence and longing. The warmth of his body beneath your fingertips was a tantalizing contrast to the cool air, heightening your senses and deepening your connection. You could feel his breath quicken, his anticipation mirroring your own, as the boundaries between you blurred into a seamless tapestry of shared desire.

A fresh wave of excitement surged through you, compelling you to drop to your knees. The cold tiles pressed against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you. Hyeongjun’s core was already glistening with anticipation, his arousal evident in the soft, shimmering trail that adorned his thighs. Yet, what captivated you most was the unmistakable glisten of lube that surrounded his entrance, an inviting promise of what was to come.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound filled with a mixture of amusement and desire. The sight of Hyeongjun bent over the bathroom sink, so vulnerable and yet so boldly prepared, was a visual feast that sent shivers down your spine. You glanced up, catching his eyes just as he was sheepishly watching you. His cheeks were flushed with a deep, rosy hue, a beautiful contrast to the cool tones of the bathroom.

As your laughter filled the space, he turned his head away, a wave of shyness overcoming him. The vulnerability in his gesture, the way he tried to hide his embarrassment, only heightened your affection for him. The intimate act of baring oneself completely, both physically and emotionally, created a bond that words could scarcely capture.

You took a moment to savor the sight before you, the delicate interplay of light and shadow dancing across his skin, the way his body trembled with anticipation. Every detail was a testament to the trust and connection you shared, a silent acknowledgment of the deep intimacy that bound you together.

Your fingers traced gentle patterns along his thighs, exploring the soft curves and contours that led to his most intimate area. The warmth of his skin, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed under your touch, was a symphony of sensations that filled you with a sense of reverent awe. 

“Am I that predictable?” you teased, your voice a playful whisper that danced through the air. The meek nod he offered in response made your heart swell with affection, a tender ache that coursed through you as you straightened up. With a sudden burst of energy, you pressed an aggressive kiss onto his cheek, the force of your lips against his skin a stark contrast to the gentle moment before.

“Don’t start this, we promised our friends we’d be at the club on time,” you quoted back at him, your tone laced with mockery. The words hung in the air, a teasing echo of his earlier admonition.

Without warning, your hand snapped across his cheek, the sound sharp and startling in the quiet room. His skin reddened beneath your touch, and an aroused yelp escaped his lips, the sound mingling with the electric tension between you. The unexpectedness of the act sent a thrill through you, a rush of exhilaration that made your heart race.

Hyeongjun’s reaction was immediate, his eyes widening in surprise and desire. The delicate balance of power and submission played out in the way he looked at you, his expression a beautiful blend of arousal and anticipation. The room seemed to pulse with the intensity of the moment, the air thick with the promise of what was to come.

You took a step back, allowing the weight of the moment to settle around you both. The night outside was a silent witness to your intimate dance, the stars hidden behind a veil of clouds, their light barely penetrating the darkness. Within the confines of the bathroom, however, the world felt small and intensely focused, a universe where only the two of you existed.

Your hand lingered on his cheek, the warmth of his skin a comforting reminder of the connection you shared. The playful teasing, the aggressive kiss, the sudden slap—all of it combined to create a tapestry of emotions and sensations that bound you together in a way that words could scarcely capture. 

As you rub your hand gently over the spot you had slapped, attempting to soothe the sting, you can't help but admire the way his skin flushed under your touch. The contrast of red against the pale expanse of his cheek was mesmerizing, a testament to the intensity of your shared moment. Your fingers linger, tracing delicate patterns, each stroke a silent apology and an affirmation of your connection.

Your gaze drifted back into the shared bedroom, your eyes fixating on the nightstand where your collection of straps lay. The dim light cast shadows across the room, creating an intimate, almost mystical atmosphere. Each strap was a memory, a fragment of your shared experiences, imbued with the essence of your deepest desires. The nightstand stood as a silent guardian of your secrets, its drawers holding the tools that allowed you to explore the depths of your passion.

With a final, appreciative glance at Hyeongjun's outfit, you stepped away, leaving him standing over the sink. His reflection in the mirror captured the anticipation and longing etched across his features. The moment felt suspended in time, each second stretching out as you moved towards the nightstand. The soft rustle of your movements filled the room, mingling with the distant hum of the night outside.

You opened the drawer with deliberate slowness, your fingers brushing over the various straps before settling on a red one. Its vibrant hue matched the rich tone of his sweater, a perfect complement to the ensemble he had chosen. The strap felt cool and supple in your hands, its weight a familiar comfort. You lifted it with reverence, the significance of the choice resonating deeply within you.

Turning back to him, you saw the light blush spreading across his cheeks as he noticed the strap you had selected. His eyes met yours, a silent conversation passing between you, filled with unspoken promises and shared understanding. The color on his cheeks deepened, a beautiful testament to his vulnerability and the trust he placed in you.

The night seemed to hold its breath as you approached him once more, the red strap a vibrant thread weaving through the tapestry of your intimacy. Each step you took was a deliberate act, a reaffirmation of the bond you shared. The anticipation in the room was palpable, every detail heightened by the quiet intensity of the moment.

After swiftly securing the strap around your hips, you positioned yourself at his entrance, your fingers brushing lightly over his skin, feeling the anticipation radiating from his body. With a final, reassuring glance into his eyes reflected in the mirror, you began to press forward, the smooth motion drawing a shared breath from both of you. Your eyes remained locked on his face, eager to witness every nuance of his reaction.

As you finally sheathed yourself into him, his expression shifted into one of exquisite pleasure. The sight of his face scrunching up, the delicate interplay of pain and ecstasy painting his features, was breathtaking. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edges of the sink tighter, the tension in his body mirrored in the taut muscles of his arms. His mouth hung open in a silent scream, his eyes squeezing shut as he acclimated to the sensation.

You held still, allowing him time to adjust, watching intently as his breath gradually steadied. The way his body relaxed, muscles softening beneath your touch, was a beautiful testament to the trust he placed in you. When you saw him visibly ease, you began to move, pulling your hips back slowly before driving forward with a powerful thrust.

This time, a strangled moan escaped his lips, the sound raw and unrestrained. The noise was a symphony to your ears, spurring you on as you gradually picked up your pace. Each movement was deliberate, a careful balance between control and abandon, as you sought to draw out every ounce of pleasure from him.

Your hips moved with increasing rhythm, the pace steady and insistent. The room filled with the symphony of your shared breath, his moans mingling with the quiet gasps of exertion from your own lips. The mirror reflected the intimate dance, a visual echo of your connection, each thrust deepening the bond between you.

His body responded to your every touch, his skin flushed and glistening with a sheen of sweat. The way he writhed and arched beneath you, each motion a testament to the pleasure you were giving him, filled you with a sense of accomplishment and desire. The intimacy of the moment, the way your bodies moved in perfect harmony, was a beautiful expression of your love.

As you continued, the intensity built, the tempo of your movements increasing. The room seemed to pulse with the energy of your shared passion, every detail heightened by the electric charge between you. 

You cast a downward glance, captivated by the rhythmic dance of the strap as it pistons in and out of him. The sight was both mesmerizing and exhilarating, leaving you breathless with each undulating motion. The intensity of the moment was amplified by the way his skirt moved in time with your thrusts, the fabric shifting and fluttering with each powerful stroke, a tantalizing visual that only heightened your arousal.

Hyeongjun was a beautiful chaos, his body a portrait of unrestrained pleasure. He was lost in the throes of ecstasy, his words a stream of fragmented sentences and breathless moans. His voice, thick with desire, babbled incessantly, praising the way you made him feel, describing how utterly full he was. Each word was a testament to the pleasure you were giving him, a living echo of the connection you shared.

The more he surrendered to the sensation, the more your own arousal built, a crescendo of need and longing that matched the intensity of his responses. His surrender was palpable, his body writhing and arching with each thrust, a dance of flesh and sensation that was both primal and profoundly intimate. The way he lost himself in the moment, his expressions shifting from pleasure to vulnerability, only fueled your desire further.

Every gasp, every cry of pleasure, was a beautiful addition to the symphony of your shared experience. The room was filled with the sounds of your passion, each noise blending into a harmonious whole that was as electrifying as it was intimate. The heat between you was almost tangible, a living entity that seemed to grow with each passing second.

Leaning over him, you lifted the front of his skirt with deliberate care, exposing his aching length. The sight of him, vulnerable and eager, intensified the already charged atmosphere. Your hand moved with practiced precision, wrapping around him with a firm grip. As you began to stroke him, your movements synchronized seamlessly with the rhythm of your thrusts, creating a harmonious dance of pleasure.

The contrast between the softness of his skin and the intensity of your touch heightened the sensuality of the moment. Your strokes were measured and deliberate, each motion sending a shiver through his body. Despite the rhythm you established, it was only a few strokes before he reached out, his hand grasping your wrist with a mix of urgency and restraint.

When you glanced up to meet his eyes, a glint of desire and frustration sparkled within them. His gaze, filled with a pleading intensity, was a silent request for you to adjust your pace. His voice, though tinged with an edge of desperation, was soft and earnest. “I’ll finish too soon,” he murmured, his breath catching in his throat. “I want to enjoy this.”

“Arrogant and needy, are we?” you murmur softly into his ear, the words a tantalizing whisper that makes his body shiver. The warmth of your breath against his skin elicits a sharp reaction, a mix of anticipation and pleasure that fuels the intensity of the moment. Your voice, low and laced with seduction, hangs in the air, adding another layer to the already charged atmosphere.

Without hesitation, your hand moves to deliver a sharp, resounding slap to his ass. The impact sends a jolt through him, eliciting a surprised yelp that quickly transforms into a deep, aroused moan. The sound, raw and unrestrained, reverberates through the room, mingling with the rhythm of your movements. His reactions are a symphony of pleasure, each sound and movement a testament to the connection between you.

He watches you through the mirror, his gaze fixed on the way your breasts bounce enticingly with each thrust. The sight of your skin glistening with sweat adds a shimmering allure, a visual feast that almost overwhelms him. The sweat that beads on your skin catches the dim light, creating a mesmerizing play of reflections that dances across your form. Each movement, each shimmer, is a reminder of the intensity and intimacy of the moment.

As you continue to piston in and out of him, the rhythmic motion and the sensual spectacle of your body in motion heighten his experience. The combination of your physical presence and the way your skin glows with the sheen of sweat creates a vivid, almost hypnotic scene. The mirror captures every detail, reflecting the powerful connection between you and the raw, unfiltered pleasure that defines this moment.

As he feels his length twitch in response to the intense pleasure, he adjusts his position slightly. His back pressed firmly against your chest, creating a sensation of delicious friction. One hand clings to the edge of the sink for support, knuckles white against the porcelain. The other hand moves with deliberate purpose, sliding up to grasp the back of your neck, pulling you closer into the shared intimacy of the moment.

The shift in his posture is striking, and the sight of him like this elicits a groan of appreciation from you. His skirt continues to sway rhythmically with each thrust, the movement creating an alluring dance of fabric that flutters tantalizingly around him. From beneath the hem of the skirt, the tip of his length peeks out, a hint of his arousal barely visible and almost taunting in its subtle exposure.

The visual is mesmerizing, a provocative display that intensifies the connection between you. The way his body responds to your every touch, the sight of him in this new, intimate position, stirs something within you. An idea, sharp and mischievous, takes hold of your mind. The thought of turning the moment into a game of seduction and control consumes you, igniting a playful yet intense plan.

The room seems to shrink around the two of you, the air thick with anticipation. Each breath, each touch, and each motion becomes part of a larger dance, a beautifully orchestrated display of desire and intent. The mirror reflects the scene in all its vivid detail, capturing the raw, unfiltered emotion of the moment and the devious plan forming in your mind.

Your eyes lock onto him with an intense, unwavering focus as you abruptly still your movements, halting the rhythmic dance of pleasure. The sudden pause draws a strained whine from him, a desperate sound that pierces the charged silence. His body, previously in sync with your thrusts, now trembles with the anticipation of the movement that has momentarily ceased.

You hold him firmly in place by wrapping an arm around his waist, your grip both possessive and tender. The contact is both a constraint and a reassurance, a juxtaposition of control and intimacy. His frustration is palpable, his body arching slightly as he seeks the continuation of the pleasure he was savoring.

His pout is a perfect picture of vulnerability and dissatisfaction, his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and longing. “No,” he protests, his voice laced with a touch of exasperation. “Why’d you stop?” The question hangs in the air, a plaintive plea for the return of the sensations that had consumed him just moments before. The room seems to pulse with the unspoken tension, each breath and movement magnified in the stillness that follows your deliberate halt.

“I think,” you pant softly, your breath warm against the nape of his neck, as your free hand delicately tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. This simple gesture serves to clear his face, allowing you a more intimate view of his expression. The glint of mischief in your eyes is unmistakable, dancing with a playful challenge. “Only good boys deserve to finish, don’t you think?” The question lingers in the air, carrying the weight of your teasing intent.

His response is a glare, sharp and defiant, but it only serves to widen your smile, a reflection of the enjoyment you find in his resistance. “Have you been a good boy?” you ask, your tone a blend of teasing and authoritative.

In a bold act of defiance, Hyeongjun remains silent, his stubbornness a contrast to the playful game you’re engaging in. You lean in closer, your lips grazing his ear as you nip gently at the lobe. “I’ll pull out right now if you don’t answer me, baby,” you murmur, your voice low and insistent. The threat is clear, and his eyes widen in sudden alarm.

Instantly, he begins to shake his head vigorously, his body a picture of desperate compliance. “No, baby, I need your words,” you demand, your tone unwavering despite the tenderness of your touch.

He huffs in frustration, his body shifting slightly in a futile attempt to regain some semblance of friction. “No,” he admits, his voice strained but resigned. “I haven’t.” Your smile widens, a mixture of satisfaction and amusement.

“And will you be a good boy from now on?” you ask, your gaze locking with his through the mirror. 

His annoyance is evident, a stark contrast to his otherwise compliant demeanor. Yet, despite his irritation, he remains cooperative. “I will, I promise,” he replies, his words a quiet vow of obedience.

The dynamic between you shifts subtly, the playful challenge giving way to a renewed sense of intimacy as he submits to your request. The air is thick with the unspoken understanding of the game you’ve played, each word and gesture weaving into the intricate tapestry of your shared experience.

Satisfied with his compliance, you firmly guide him to a new position, settling him on top of the sink. The change is swift and assertive, a testament to the control you wield in the moment. Without missing a beat, you resume the relentless pace you had maintained earlier, your movements a seamless continuation of the intensity that had been building.

His hands become a flurry of motion, finding their way to your shoulders, your neck, and even tangling in your hair. Each touch is frantic, a desperate attempt to anchor himself amidst the storm of sensations. The way his fingers grip and pull at your hair when you hit just the right spot sends shivers of pleasure coursing through you. The sensation is almost intoxicating, heightening your own arousal and prompting louder, more unabashed moans from your lips.

His skirt, having been displaced by your fervent actions, now rests precariously atop his abdomen. It creates a visual halo, a provocative frame around the passionate exchange that unfolds between you. The fabric’s subtle movement and the way it flutters with each thrust add a layer of eroticism to the scene, enhancing the overall intensity of the moment.

His moans escalate in pitch, each sound growing more urgent and desperate as the shift in positions aligns perfectly with his most sensitive spots. The change sends him spiraling toward the edge, and as he finally succumbs to his climax, you quickly reach for a nearby rag. The fabric catches the evidence of his release, preventing any damage to his meticulously chosen outfit.

In the aftermath, both of you are breathless, your bodies pressed closely together as you offer mutual support. Your breaths come in ragged bursts, and you hold each other, sharing a moment of closeness and intimacy as he gathers himself.

Eventually, as you pull away, Hyeongjun releases a final, blissful moan. With a contented sigh, he leans down to meet your gaze, a soft, adoring smile gracing his lips. He plants a gentle peck on your lips, a gesture that makes you chuckle softly. In response, you lean in, enveloping him in a more profound kiss, savoring the tenderness and connection that lingers between you both.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ 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!

❤️ THE PRICE OF PLEASURE ( xdinary heroes )

❛ When Jiseok and Jooyeon break your strict rule, you push the boundaries of your control and desire, navigating a thrilling interplay of discipline and pleasure as you mold their eager submission to your will.

𝐤𝐰𝐚𝐤 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐤 + female reader + 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧 ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.0k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 32 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Yet another amazing request made by the wonderful 🍀 Anon! This is probably the filthiest, things I've ever written. But I also feel like it's my absolute favorite! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, oral (male and female receiving), brief m x m action, voyeurism, Jooyeon is a major brat, Jooyeon and Gaon are both submissive, Reader is a control-obsessed dom, she's also soft sometimes, Gaon gets pegged, handjob, begging, crying (not really, but kinda), lots and lots of teasing, let me know if I missed anything!

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

The familiar, rhythmic thud of your shoes hitting the floor echoed softly through the quiet apartment as you kicked them off, the sound oddly amplified in the stillness. A slight frown tugged at your lips, a whisper of confusion settling in as you took in the unexpected silence. Your home, usually alive with the vibrant energy of your boyfriends, was eerily calm, devoid of the usual symphony of laughter and banter that often greeted your return. It was odd, unsettling even, that this quiet was your welcome, especially since their shoes were already neatly lined by the door—a sign that they were home, yet nowhere to be seen.

With a gentle shrug, you slipped off your light jacket, the fabric brushing softly against your skin as you hung it on the coat rack. Your oversized work bag followed, its weight slipping from your shoulder with a familiar relief. As you stood there, the quiet pressing in around you, suspicion began to stir, a soft unease gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. Your gaze swept the room, searching for any sign of your lovers' presence, but the usual chaos they brought with them was conspicuously absent. The stillness felt like a lull before a storm, the kind of silence that Jiseok and Jooyeon could never maintain for long, especially when they were together, plotting their next mischievous escapade.

Faintly, like a whisper in the quiet, you caught the delicate sound of shuffling emanating from within your bedroom. The noise was subtle, almost hesitant, yet it pierced through the silence with a presence that demanded attention. Your eyes narrowed, suspicion flaring as you took in the unusual sight of your closed bedroom door—a rare occurrence in the sanctuary of your home. With a quiet resolve, you made your way toward the source of the sound, each step deliberate and silent as if the stillness of the apartment itself held its breath.

As you reached the door, your hand hesitated for the briefest moment before gently pushing it open. The scene that greeted you was one of raw, unapologetic intimacy, an almost obscene tableau that instantly commanded your full attention. There, perched at the edge of your shared bed, was Jooyeon, his slender frame glistening with a sheen of sweat. His head was thrown back in a wild surrender to pleasure, long strands of hair clinging to his damp, flushed skin, creating an image of untamed beauty. His face, scrunched up in ecstasy, betrayed the intense sensations coursing through him, every muscle in his body taut with the effort of holding on to the bliss that threatened to consume him.

Kneeling between Jooyeon’s trembling legs was Jiseok, his back turned to you, though the rhythmic bobbing of his head left no doubt about the intimate service he was providing. The sight of them together, lost in their own world of pleasure, was a potent mix of annoyance and arousal, each emotion vying for dominance within you. The lewd, wet sounds that filled the air only intensified the storm brewing inside, sending an intoxicating rush of heat through your veins. It was a moment suspended in time, one that held you captive, torn between the urge to interrupt and the desire to watch their passion unfold.

Deciding not to disturb their passionate moment, you chose instead to lean casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest. There was a certain thrill in observing them unnoticed, your gaze sharp and unyielding as it fixed upon the scene unfolding before you. Curiosity sparked within, urging you to see just how long it would take for them to sense the weight of your stare, to feel the intensity of your presence as you watched, silent and unmoving.

Yet, as the seconds ticked by, that initial thrill began to sour, replaced by a simmering annoyance that crept into your chest. The longer you stood there, the more your irritation grew, gnawing at the edges of your patience. You had set rules for a reason—clear, firm boundaries that all of you had agreed upon, understanding the importance of maintaining balance within your dynamic. One of those rules was simple, yet essential: neither of them was allowed to indulge in pleasure without your explicit permission, particularly when you had made your desires known. You had been crystal clear, even taking the time to send a message in the group chat before leaving work, outlining exactly how you wanted them.

But as you stood there, a sudden realization struck you with infuriating clarity. Technically, they weren’t breaking any rules, and the thought sent a fresh wave of irritation coursing through you. You could vividly recall the exact phrasing you had used: "Neither of you can give yourselves pleasure without my explicit permission, especially if I tell you that I want you beforehand." The loophole they had exploited now seemed glaringly obvious, and a bitter scoff nearly escaped your lips. They weren't seeking pleasure from themselves but from each other—a clever, if maddening, twist on your words.

The knowledge that they had found a way around your rule, skirting the edges of defiance while technically staying within the bounds you had set, only fueled your growing annoyance. Yet, beneath that annoyance, there was a grudging admiration for their audacity, for the way they had turned your own rule against you. It was a delicate dance of power and submission, one that you were determined to reclaim control over, even as you continued to watch, the silence between you heavy with unspoken tension.

As if finally attuned to the simmering tension in the room, Jooyeon’s pleasure-clouded eyes fluttered open, locking onto your unyielding stare. For a brief moment, his gaze remained unfocused, lost in the haze of the moment, but then recognition dawned, widening his eyes in a sudden panic. In a frantic rush, he pushed Jiseok away, his movements clumsy with urgency. Jiseok, still caught in the throes of their intimacy, mumbled something unintelligible, his voice muffled by the lingering taste of Jooyeon's desire. It wasn’t until he followed Jooyeon’s gaze that the gravity of the situation fully hit him. His own eyes went wide, a deep flush of anxiety spreading across his face, the earlier confidence replaced by a palpable unease.

Despite the tumultuous swirl of emotions churning within you, you maintained a veneer of calm as you slowly pushed yourself off the doorframe. Your movements were deliberate, calculated, as you made your way to a plush chair nestled in the furthest corner of the room. The sharp edge in your voice betrayed the storm beneath your composed exterior as you spoke, “Don’t let me interrupt your fun,” you said, the words slicing through the thick silence like a blade. 

Settling into the chair with an elegance that belied the intensity of the moment, you crossed one leg over the other, the smooth motion a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere. Your fingers intertwined with a practiced grace, resting casually on your lap, though there was nothing casual about the undercurrent of displeasure in your tone. "Clearly, I’m not needed here," you continued, the bitterness in your words hanging in the air like a challenge, daring them to refute it. The room seemed to shrink under the weight of your presence, the earlier intimacy now overshadowed by the unspoken tension that filled the space between you.

While Jiseok, ever the more submissive of the two, began to pathetically crawl across the floor toward you, his movements were slow and deliberate, as if each inch he gained was a testament to his regret. When he finally reached you, he positioned himself on his knees, his arms wrapping around your legs in a desperate embrace. His head bowed low, resting against your lap, he mumbled a stream of breathless apologies, each word laced with a whine that betrayed his mounting anxiety. His voice was a soft, trembling plea for forgiveness, and though his presence was tangible, your gaze remained fixed elsewhere.

Your attention was locked on Jooyeon, whose unwavering stare met yours with a defiant glint. His eyes, dark and challenging, held none of the remorse that Jiseok so readily displayed. Instead, there was a boldness in his gaze, a spark of rebellion that was all too familiar. It wasn’t unexpected—Jooyeon had always possessed an uncanny ability to push your limits, a relentless determination to test your patience at every turn. The smirk tugging at the corner of his lips was a silent taunt, an invitation to the game he so loved to play. 

He knew you too well, knew precisely which buttons to press and when to press them. It was a dance you had performed countless times before, each step choreographed with an intimacy that came from understanding the deepest corners of each other's minds. Yet, despite knowing how the game would play out, despite the simmering frustration that he always managed to evoke within you, there was a part of you that couldn't help but admire his audacity. It was infuriating, maddening even, but there was also something intoxicating about the way he challenged you, the way he thrived on eliciting a reaction.

Jooyeon's defiance was a fire that refused to be extinguished, a flame that burned with a heat that could either consume or ignite something within you. And as you stared into his eyes, a silent battle waging between the two of you, the familiar thrill of the challenge began to stir within your chest, mingling with the annoyance that his stubbornness always managed to evoke. It was a complex dance of power and submission, one that neither of you were willing to lose.

“Please,” Jiseok’s voice quivered with desperation, his fingers curling around the hem of your shirt as if clinging to a lifeline. His plea was laced with a raw vulnerability, an attempt to capture your attention, to divert your gaze from the other boy who remained rooted in defiant stillness. For a long moment, you ignored him, your eyes fixed on Jooyeon, who hadn't moved an inch. But eventually, the pitiful weight of Jiseok’s words pulled you down to him, your gaze dropping to meet his flushed, guilt-ridden face. His cheeks were stained a deep crimson, the color of shame, and his eyes glistened with regret that bordered on desperation.

“I told Jooyeon it wasn’t a good idea, but he still made me do it,” Jiseok murmured, his voice wavering as he sought to absolve himself, to shift the blame onto the unyielding figure across the room. His words, however, were met with a sharp scoff from Jooyeon, who rolled his eyes with a mixture of disdain and amusement. The smirk that played on his lips was almost cruel in its satisfaction as he cut through Jiseok’s attempt at innocence with biting clarity.

“Don’t act all innocent, Ji. You weren’t too hard to convince,” Jooyeon’s voice dripped with mocking amusement, the casual dismissal of Jiseok’s plea only deepening the tension in the room. Your eyes narrowed, fixing on Jiseok, who recoiled slightly under your scrutinizing gaze. The groveling man at your feet cast a quick, venomous glare in Jooyeon’s direction before returning his pleading eyes to you, a silent appeal for mercy.

The sight of them, one defiant and the other groveling, was almost too much to bear. You could almost laugh at the absurdity of it all—the way Jiseok's desperate attempts to escape blame were so easily dismantled by Jooyeon’s unrelenting honesty. Yet, you held back, determined to maintain your composure. With a deliberate, gentle firmness, you pushed Jiseok away, his fingers slipping from your shirt as you created a space between your bodies. The movement was final, a quiet assertion of your control, a reminder that you would not be swayed by pitiful apologies or manipulative tactics.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Your voice cut through the tension like a blade, sharp and unwavering. You raised an eyebrow, your gaze flickering between the two men, each of them a stark contrast to the other in their response. Jooyeon, ever the defiant one, met your challenge with a smirk that played at the corners of his lips. He shifted his weight, leaning back onto his elbows with a casual arrogance, his eyes drifting lazily toward Jiseok as if the entire situation were nothing more than an amusing game.

Jiseok, in stark contrast, remained at your feet, his frown deepening as he absorbed the weight of your words. The air between you all was thick with unspoken tension, the power dynamic shifting and settling as you held their gazes, one after the other. Jooyeon’s smirk widened, his expression one of almost mocking confidence as he finally broke the silence, his voice laced with a taunting edge.

You let the silence hang for a beat, your patience wearing thin. “Don’t let me interrupt your fun,” you added, the words laced with a subtle yet unmistakable edge. Your gaze remained steady, shifting between them, watching their reactions with a mixture of frustration and control. The defiance in Jooyeon’s posture only seemed to grow stronger under your scrutiny, while Jiseok’s frown deepened, his eyes flickering with unease. 

The atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension, each of you aware of the delicate balance of power at play. Your words, though calmly spoken, carried an undercurrent of authority that left no room for misinterpretation.

Jiseok resumed his position at your feet, his fingers trembling slightly as they fisted the hem of your shirt once more. His bottom lip jutted out in a desperate pout, the very picture of contrition. As you gazed down at him, his remorse was palpable, almost tangible in the way his eyes pleaded for forgiveness. The sight of him, so earnestly regretful, caused something within you to soften, a crack in the armor of your stern resolve.

Yet, you knew better than to let that moment of tenderness sway your judgment. Judging by the way Jooyeon had reacted to your earlier command to continue with his naughty activities, you understood that simply ordering them to proceed wouldn’t serve as the true punishment Jooyeon needed. He thrived on defiance, on pushing boundaries, and you were all too aware that he wouldn’t be so easily subdued. 

With a gentle sigh, you leaned back into your seat, allowing your expression to shift from stern to sympathetic as your focus returned to the older boy at your feet. The transformation was subtle yet deliberate, a calculated move meant to comfort Jiseok, whose guilt was as evident as the tears brimming in his eyes. Your index finger curled beneath his chin, tilting his face upward to meet your gaze. The touch was soft, almost tender, and your thumb traced the contour of his chin with a gentleness that belied the authority you wielded.

“Do you feel guilty, Ji?” you cooed, your voice a soothing balm against the tension that still lingered in the air. 

His response was immediate, his head nodding with such fervor that it almost seemed frantic. “So, so sorry!” he gasped, his voice a breathless plea, and you could see the sliver of hope flickering in his eyes at your sudden change in demeanor.

The shift in your tone and touch was deliberate, designed to draw him closer, to offer him a glimpse of redemption. The power dynamic was clear, but in this moment, it was laced with a tenderness that made Jiseok’s heart swell with a desperate need to earn back your favor. And as you looked into his eyes, you could see that your calculated change in approach had taken its desired effect, planting the seed of hope within him while still maintaining the control you so deftly wielded.

“Hmmm,” you murmur thoughtfully, your voice a soft, velvety purr as you release Jiseok’s face from your gentle hold. Your fingers linger for a moment, caressing his skin with a lingering warmth that belied the sternness in your gaze. “If you show me just how sorry you are—by pleasuring me properly, eating me with the devotion I deserve—I might just consider showing you a bit of mercy. Does that sound fair, baby?”

Jiseok’s eyes widened, a glimmer of eager anticipation flashing in their depths. His excitement is almost palpable as he nods vigorously, his expression one of hopeful desperation. Without hesitation, he begins his task, his hands trembling slightly as he grips the waistband of your pants and underwear. With your assistance, he pulls the fabric down to your ankles, his movements urgent and precise.

Once you’ve kicked off the restrictive garments, a sigh escapes your lips, a sound of both relief and satisfaction. You stretch out your legs, opening them with a deliberate and inviting ease, presenting yourself to your eager lover. The warm glow of the nightstand lamps casts a golden sheen over your exposed core, highlighting the glistening wetness that betrays your arousal. The soft light creates a shimmering effect, making your desire all the more visible and enticing.

You catch the subtle, involuntary swallow that ripples through Jooyeon’s throat as he watches the scene unfold, his gaze fixed intently on the sight before him. His reaction is immediate, a clear indication of the effect the display has on him. The moment Jiseok’s eyes fall upon your aroused core, he emits a low, reverent moan, the sound reverberating with a mixture of lust and devotion. The interplay of your body’s response and Jiseok’s eager obedience creates a charged atmosphere, one that only serves to heighten the tension and excitement in the room.

Jiseok didn’t hesitate for a moment, his lips moving with an urgent, fervent need as he traced a path of wet, eager kisses up your inner thighs. Each kiss was imbued with a desperate longing, a tactile promise of the pleasure that awaited. The sensation of his lips against your sensitive skin sent a thrilling jolt of anticipation straight into your abdomen, making your heartbeat quicken with fervor.

When his lips finally reached your aching core, he paused for a brief, tantalizing moment, inhaling the intoxicating, familiar scent of your arousal. The air seemed to crackle with charged energy as he savored the moment, his breath warm and teasing against your skin. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he pressed a soft, reverent kiss onto your sensitive folds. The simple, yet profound contact elicited a shuddered gasp from you, a sound that seemed to resonate deeply within him, filling him with a sense of satisfaction and boldness.

Spurred on by your reaction, Jiseok’s tongue emerged, expertly gliding between your folds with a practiced, skilled touch. The sensation was electric, a wave of intense pleasure that made your fingers instinctively curl into his hair, gripping him tightly. The pressure of your touch was a firm reminder of who held the reins, a detail that elicited a delicious, vibrating moan from Jiseok. The sound reverberated through your core, amplifying the pleasure and creating a symphony of sensations that left you craving more.

Having Jiseok in this submissive, eager state was pure bliss—his compliance and desperation to please made every moment feel like a heavenly indulgence. His willingness to cater to your desires, his every action steeped in devotion and need, transformed the experience into something both transcendent and intimately fulfilling.

After a few moments of surrendering to the intoxicating pleasure Jiseok’s exquisite mouth was bestowing upon you, you reluctantly shifted your gaze toward your other, more rebellious lover. The sight that met your eyes was both captivating and gratifying—Jooyeon, breathless and visibly disheveled, was gripping the bedsheets with such intensity that his knuckles had turned a stark, ghostly white. The raw desperation etched on his face sent a shiver of dark satisfaction coursing through your veins.

You allowed a smirk to curl at the corners of your lips, a reflection of the wicked pleasure you took in his discomfiture. The dark gleam in your eyes only seemed to heighten his arousal, and you could see the effect it had on him. The twitch of his length was unmistakable, a physical testament to the intense frustration and yearning that had been stoked by your presence and actions.

It dawned on you then that his own pleasure had been sharply interrupted by your control, leaving him in a state of aching need. The realization brought a dark, amused chuckle to your lips, a sound that was both cruel and deeply satisfying. The thought that his own arousal was teetering on the edge of painful necessity was a delicious detail you couldn’t help but relish. Each twitch and shudder of his body was a testament to your dominance, a reminder of just how effectively you could manipulate and captivate him.

A surprising jolt of pleasure suddenly pulls your focus away from Jooyeon, drawing your attention back to Jiseok. A moan escapes your lips, filled with both surprise and delight, as you become acutely aware of his expert touch. Jiseok’s fingertips, deft and determined, trace gentle circles over your sensitive nub, while his tongue thrusts rhythmically in and out of your sopping core. His eyes, locked onto your face, gleam with a quiet pride, a testament to his satisfaction in his performance.

Unable to contain your tender response, you smile gently at him, your expression softening with affection. You move the hand that had been resting in his hair to cup his cheek, your thumb caressing him with a tenderness that contrasts the intensity of the moment. At your touch, Jiseok leans into your hand, his body vibrating with a contented hum that resonates through your core. The sensation of his submission and his willingness to please you fills your heart with an overwhelming, indescribable affection.

Despite his habitual mischief, Jiseok was always remarkably attentive when it mattered most. The realization of his devotion intensifies with each stroke of his tongue against the sensitive spot within you, pushing you to a new peak of pleasure. The thought of his unwavering care, despite his playful nature, amplifies your desire. As his tongue finds that sweet, sensitive spot once more, another moan escapes you, and you tighten your grip on his hair, urging him deeper into your pleasure. The combination of his devoted touch and your commanding presence creates a profound sense of intimacy and connection, one that transcends the physical and speaks to the core of your bond.

Jooyeon’s voice abruptly sliced through the bubble of pleasure enveloping you, his tone cracking with a desperate need that belied his attempt at nonchalance. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on the arch of your back, each shudder of pleasure that coursed through you a vivid display of your intense enjoyment. He clutched the sheets beneath him with a fierce grip, as if they were a lifeline holding him in place. You couldn’t help but marvel at his endurance, the way he had resisted the urge to touch himself despite the tormenting frustration. It was a feat that both intrigued and impressed you, though you had no intention of voicing your admiration.

Your gaze flickered toward him, though the image before you was slightly blurred by the overwhelming bliss Jiseok was bestowing upon you. “I’m sorry,” Jooyeon repeated, his voice trembling with raw desperation. This time, the veneer of composure was gone, stripped away by the intensity of his need. As you rolled your hips against Jiseok’s face, using his hair to keep him securely in place, Jooyeon’s eyes grew darker, reflecting a potent mix of longing and frustration.

Jiseok, seemingly lost in the haze of his own desire, groaned deeply into your core, the sound vibrating through you and sending another wave of ecstatic pleasure that left you gasping for breath. His focus remained fixed on you, almost as if Jooyeon’s presence had faded into the background of his single-minded devotion.

When you remained silent in response to Jooyeon’s repeated apologies, he insisted with a fervent plea, “I won’t do it again, I promise.” The desperation in his voice was palpable, the feeling of exclusion starting to gnaw at him just as you had intended. The sight of him, so vulnerable and yearning, was a stark contrast to the pleasure Jiseok continued to deliver, adding another layer of intense satisfaction to the scene unfolding before you.

“No,” you pant, your breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts as you lick your lips, the taste of desire lingering on your tongue. Your senses are acutely tuned to the sensations enveloping you; you can feel the sweat that has formed a slick sheen over your body, glistening almost sensually under the soft, amber glow of the nightstand lamps. These lamps cast a warm, inviting light across the otherwise darkened expanse of your bedroom, creating an intimate cocoon that frames the scene with a seductive allure.

Your gaze remains fixed on Jooyeon’s eyes, now clouded with a mixture of longing and frustration. He pants softly, his breaths uneven as he watches the unfolding scene with an almost entranced expression. As you teeter on the precipice of climax, the tightening in your lower abdomen grows almost unbearable. “It’s too late to apologize now, Joo,” you manage to murmur through your heightened pleasure, your voice quivering with the effort to maintain control.

A sharp inhale escapes you as Jiseok’s fingers dig into your thighs, his nails pressing into your soft skin with a possessive grip meant to keep you firmly in place. Momentarily distracted by the intensity of his touch, you reach for his wrists with both hands, holding them with a firm grip as you cast him a warning glare. He should know better than to assume any form of control at this moment; not to mention, you rarely enjoyed the sensation of being confined.

Jiseok’s eyes flicker with a silent apology, a wordless acknowledgment of your unspoken command. Once you see the understanding in his gaze, you release his wrists, allowing your hands to return to his hair. With renewed focus, you guide him back to your core, trapping his head in a vice of pleasure. The intimate connection between you both is palpable, a dance of control and surrender that continues to heighten the ecstasy of the moment.

Your gaze shifted once more, catching Jooyeon leaning forward with renewed intensity, his posture straightening in a futile attempt to catch a better glimpse of your aching core as it lay exposed over Jiseok’s head. A sharp, almost cruel snort escaped you, the sound dripping with mockery. “You should have taken a page from your older brother’s book when you had the chance,” you taunted, your voice edged with a playful disdain as you observed Jooyeon’s sulking reaction to your words. “Now, you’ll have to wait until he’s finished eating his dinner before I deal with you.”

As another moan erupted from your lips—a primal, guttural sound that hung heavily in the air—you began to assert control over the rhythm, your thighs clenching around Jiseok’s head with a firm, possessive grip. Your hips moved with a desperate, relentless pace, rolling back and forth with an urgent, almost frenzied rhythm. The vibrations of Jiseok’s own moans and groans reverberated through you, amplifying the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

With a final, shuddering groan that punctuated your climax, you allowed the intense waves of euphoria to envelop you. Slowly, you adjusted the pace, easing into a more languid rhythm as you rode out the aftershocks of your orgasm. Eventually, you released Jiseok from your iron grip, his head slipping free from between your thighs.

He didn’t retreat immediately. Instead, he lingered, his lips pressing a firm yet tender kiss onto your highly sensitive core, which elicited a slight flinch from you. Despite the delicate sensation, you managed a tired smile in response, your breath coming in heavy, ragged bursts as you leaned back into your seat, savoring the residual echoes of your pleasure.

The sound of Jooyeon’s moans, mingled with the sight of his desperate gaze, registered in the periphery of your consciousness as you briefly closed your eyes. You took a moment to bask in the relief that Jiseok, ever the attentive lover, had provided to your once-aching arousal. The pleasure had been both intense and satisfying, a balm to the tension that had built up throughout your demanding day at work.

Yet, you didn’t let yourself linger in this moment of indulgence for too long. The awareness of what needed to be done next urged you to refocus. Once your breathing had steadied, your eyes fluttered open, and you straightened up, positioning yourself to face your lovers with renewed determination.

Jiseok remained on the floor before you, now seated with a look of serene satisfaction on his face. He was diligently engaged in cleaning your sticky arousal from his face, his tongue working with practiced precision. The sight of his dedication only heightened your sense of control and satisfaction.

Across the room, Jooyeon was a study in frustrated yearning. His thighs rubbed together in a subtle, almost desperate search for friction, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of envy and longing. The expression on his face was almost palpable, an unspoken plea for attention. You couldn't help but let out a dark, amused laugh at the contrast between Jiseok’s contented diligence and Jooyeon’s evident jealousy. The dynamic between the two was both intoxicating and thrilling, adding another layer of complexity to the scene before you.

You steadied yourself, carefully concealing the tremor in your legs from the recent climax, unwilling to let even a hint of vulnerability disrupt the commanding presence you needed to maintain. The image you projected was crucial for the next phase of your plan, one that was designed to bring your bratty, rebellious lover, Jooyeon, to his knees in submission—just as you intended. While Jooyeon had mastered the art of pushing your buttons, you, too, had accumulated a repertoire of strategies throughout your time with both him and Jiseok.

A smirk curled at the corners of your lips as this thought crossed your mind, a glimmer of mischief dancing in your eyes. You moved with deliberate grace, passing by Jiseok, who continued his focused task with a look of serene satisfaction. Your path led directly to the nightstand on your side of the expansive bed, where a carefully curated collection of sensual toys awaited. The gleam of anticipation in your gaze reflected off the polished surface of the nightstand as you approached, each item meticulously arranged to cater to your desires.

The nightstand’s contents were a testament to your intricate understanding of pleasure and control, each piece chosen to further your goals of domination and indulgence. As you reached for the drawer, the soft click of its opening echoed through the room, adding a layer of expectation to the already charged atmosphere.

You could feel their gazes burning into your skin, each pair of eyes following your every movement with a palpable intensity. Yet, you remained unperturbed, your focus entirely on the task at hand. With deliberate precision, you retrieved the harnesses of your strap, your fingers moving with practiced ease. The ritual of preparation was almost meditative, each action underscoring your dominance and control.

Once the harness was secured in place, you methodically sifted through your collection before finding what you were looking for: Jiseok's favorite dildo. The bright blue silicone toy, vivid and unmistakable, emerged from the drawer. The sight of it elicited a giddy gasp from Jiseok, a sound that was quickly followed by Jooyeon’s mocking snort. The derisive noise only served to widen your smirk, a silent promise of what was to come. You knew Jooyeon’s bravado would soon crumble, but you kept this insight to yourself, letting the anticipation build.

With practiced movements, you secured the toy onto the strap, the click of the mechanism echoing softly in the room. You retrieved a half-empty bottle of lube and tossed it onto the bed with a casual flick of your wrist. Amidst the array of items, you unearthed two pairs of handcuffs from the very bottom of the drawer, a rarely used accessory that now seemed perfectly suited for your purpose. You held them up with a faint smirk, their cold metal glinting under the dim light.

A voice, dazed with anticipation, broke the charged silence. “Are you tying me up?” Jiseok’s voice was closer than before, and you turned to see him resting on the bed behind Jooyeon, his eyes alight with excitement. You chuckled softly at the eagerness evident in his expression, shaking your head as you retrieved a black blindfold from the drawer. The soft rustle of fabric was the only sound as you closed the drawer, tossing the handcuffs and blindfold onto the bed with casual grace.

“Our dear Joo hasn’t been behaving well, remember?” Your voice was a silk thread of menace woven with amusement. Jiseok’s eyes widened as the implications of your words sank in, his gaze shifting to meet Jooyeon’s. Despite the undercurrent of anxiety, there was an undeniable spark of thrill in Jooyeon’s eyes, a fleeting but telling sign of the complex mix of emotions stirring within him.

After taking a final inventory of the items you had meticulously prepared, you positioned yourself before Jooyeon. The room was thick with anticipation as you stood with an air of authority, your hands confidently resting on your hips. The strap, securely fastened and perfectly aligned, hovered enticingly at the level of Jooyeon’s mouth.

Jooyeon gazed up at you, a picture of almost vulnerable apprehension. His eyes, though defiant, betrayed a flicker of unease as they tracked the motion of your strap. Behind him, Jiseok’s head emerged, his eyes wide with a mixture of eagerness and longing, reflecting the soft glow of the room’s lighting.

When Jooyeon remained motionless and silent, you couldn’t suppress a playful smirk. You raised an eyebrow in mock surprise, the gesture both questioning and taunting. “Oh, Joo,” you chided with a tone dripping in feigned disapproval. You shook your head lightly, the movement deliberate and filled with a touch of disappointment. “Are you really going to make me do all the work? I thought you were sorry.”

Your words were laced with clear mockery, and the way Jooyeon’s eyes narrowed subtly in response confirmed that he had picked up on your teasing. The room's atmosphere was charged with the tension of your challenge, each breath and glance heightening the sense of anticipation and control.

Given Jooyeon’s persistent stubbornness, you let out a resigned sigh, signaling Jiseok to assist you in guiding Jooyeon deeper onto the expansive mattress. Jooyeon, showing no resistance to the shift, allowed himself to be maneuvered into position. You ensured he was properly angled against the cool metal bars of the headboard, which elicited a faint wince from him as the chill of the contact met his skin.

Ignoring the fleeting reaction, you proceeded with practiced precision. You handed Jiseok one of the handcuffs, the cold metal gleaming in the dim light, while you retained the other. With swift, deliberate movements, you secured Jooyeon’s wrist to the headboard, the clink of the cuffs breaking the room's heavy silence. As you completed the task, you deftly placed the blindfold over Jooyeon’s eyes, his vision swallowed by the soft, dark fabric. The blindfold, with its promise of obscurity, heightened the anticipation of the moment.

Jiseok, finding the scenario both entertaining and gratifying, let out a light-hearted giggle. His amusement was palpable, a sharp contrast to Jooyeon's subdued state. Following your subtle command, Jiseok positioned himself beneath Jooyeon's bent legs with eager compliance, a reflection of his own excitement.

Turning your gaze back to Jooyeon, you let your voice carry a blend of authority and curiosity. “Joo,” you began, your tone both commanding and contemplative. “You apologized to me earlier. What was it you were apologizing for, hmm?” The question hung in the air, a tantalizing blend of reprimand and intrigue, as you awaited his response.

At your question, Jooyeon huffed in exasperation, the sound betraying his simmering frustration. His arousal, already a deep, agonized red, leaked persistently, the tip glistening with the evidence of his prolonged neglect. It was clear how desperately he had been yearning for release, having restrained himself in hopes of finding favor with you through his own unique, if misguided, penitence.

A flicker of sympathy might have crossed your mind, recognizing the restraint he had exercised. It was evident how much self-discipline it had taken for him to refrain from touching himself, despite the visual and auditory cues of your pleasure. Yet, your resolve remained steadfast as you waited for his response, your demeanor unwavering and authoritative.

With a measured motion, you squeezed a generous amount of lube onto your hand, the slick, cool substance glistening under the soft illumination of the room. You stroked your silicone length with deliberate, smooth motions, the sensation sending a shiver of anticipation through you. The rhythmic motion of your hand was met with a shuddering breath from Jooyeon, his blindfolded eyes unable to witness the source of his torment.

"I'm sorry," he finally gasped, his voice breaking under the weight of his emotions. "I was sorry for breaking your rule. I—I was being a brat." His words were choked with a mixture of regret and desperation, the sound of his voice mingling with the slick sounds of your movements.

A satisfied hum escaped your lips, the sound a testament to his confession meeting your expectations. You applied another generous amount of lube, this time to your index and middle fingers, preparing them for what was to come. With a silent nod towards Jiseok, who eagerly complied, you watched as he spread his legs wide, presenting himself with an eager readiness that mirrored his excitement.

“Hmm,” you mused aloud, your fingers hovering tantalizingly close to Jiseok’s entrance. The anticipation in the room was palpable, a shimmering thread of tension binding everyone present. Jiseok quivered beneath you, his body trembling with eagerness, while Jooyeon, bound and blindfolded, writhed restlessly against the confines of his restraints.

Your fingers, poised with a deliberate slowness, lingered just at the edge of Jiseok’s entrance. The air was thick with expectancy, each breath drawn in sharp, shivering gasps. Jooyeon, his senses heightened by the blindfold, could only guess at what was to come. The sound of his shallow breathing and the restless shifting of his bound form spoke volumes of his eagerness.

“No,” Jooyeon’s voice was a desperate whisper, his head shaking in frantic agreement. “No, I won’t do it again.” His words came out in hurried breaths, a mixture of surrender and pleading lacing his tone. The intensity of his response was matched only by the fervent anticipation emanating from Jiseok, who continued to tremble beneath your careful touch.

Satisfied with Jooyeon's desperate response, you finally yielded to Jiseok’s eager pleas. Slowly, deliberately, you began to insert your index finger into Jiseok’s warm, inviting entrance. The sensation was exquisite, the tightness enveloping your finger as Jiseok emitted a guttural, primal moan that resonated with pure, unrestrained pleasure. You paused for a moment, allowing him to adjust to the intrusion, savoring the way his body tensed and then relaxed in response.

Your attention drifted to Jooyeon, who squirmed restlessly against the headboard, his hips lifting in a desperate, silent plea. The blindfold covering his eyes rendered him unaware of the intimate scene unfolding right before him, intensifying his frustration. A cruel, mocking smile curled on your lips as you watched his futile attempts to seek out the touch he craved so badly. His blindfolded eyes fluttered, and his body writhed in vain.

You began a slow, rhythmic motion, your finger moving in and out of Jiseok with deliberate care. Each thrust drew soft, breathy whimpers from Jiseok, turning him into a trembling mess of pleasure. Meanwhile, Jooyeon’s frustration grew palpable, his jealousy a stark contrast to the pleasure Jiseok was receiving. 

With a hint of mockery in your voice, you leaned closer to Jooyeon, who could only hear the sound of your voice and the relentless moans of Jiseok. “Aw, baby,” you cooed, dripping with sarcasm. “Did you really think I would give you what you wanted so easily after the stunt you pulled?” The tone of your voice was both taunting and authoritative, ensuring Jooyeon felt every ounce of the frustration you intended to impart.

Jooyeon finally broke the silence with a pitiful whine that seemed to escape from deep within him, the sound stretching and echoing through the room as if it had been held captive for an eternity. His hips shifted restlessly, seeking out your touch in vain, but he could only fumble in frustration, unable to find the relief he so desperately craved.

Meanwhile, you had slid your middle finger into Jiseok’s tight, welcoming entrance, the additional intrusion causing him to shudder in heightened ecstasy. His moans grew louder, more intense, each sound a testament to the pleasure you were bestowing upon him. The contrast between Jiseok’s blissful surrender and Jooyeon’s growing frustration was striking, almost painterly in its stark divergence. It was a tableau of sensory extremes that you found almost intoxicating—so vivid, so compelling that you wished you could etch it permanently behind your eyelids.

“That’s not fair!” Jooyeon’s voice pierced the air, slightly shriller than usual, laced with a mix of desperation and indignation. “I apologized! I apologized many times!” Even though the blindfold shielded his eyes, you could almost see the frustration etched into his features, the crinkle of his brows and the relentless squirming of his restrained body.

The room was filled with the slick, obscene sounds of your lubed fingers working within Jiseok, the rhythmic, wet noises a stark contrast to Jooyeon’s pained, futile attempts to find solace. Each sound seemed to amplify Jooyeon’s discomfort, his length twitching in response to the overwhelming mix of envy and unfulfilled desire. You could hardly contain a dark chuckle, your amusement palpable as you reveled in his distress, savoring the sight of his suffering as he continued to be left wanting.

Gradually, your gaze shifted towards Jiseok, who lay beneath you, flushed a deep, fervent crimson from the intensity of the minimal stimulation he had already received. His body was a canvas of shimmering sweat and eager anticipation. With a voice that was a gentle contrast to the sharpness you had shown Jooyeon, you asked, “Do you think you’re ready, baby? Can you take me now?”

Jiseok’s response was a frantic nod, his legs curling around your waist in a desperate attempt to draw you closer to where he craved you the most. His movements were filled with an urgency that matched his need. However, you pulled your fingers out of him with deliberate slowness, gently unlocking his legs from around you. His whimper of disappointment was almost a silent plea, a sound that tugged at the edges of your satisfaction.

You guided him onto his stomach with a soft, yet firm motion, his compliance immediate and obedient. As he settled beneath you, you draped yourself over his slick, heated body, savoring the intimate contact. To intensify Jooyeon’s torment, you carefully repositioned Jiseok’s hands so they gripped Jooyeon’s ankles, a gesture of silent command. The slight pressure you applied to his wrists was a clear, unspoken instruction to keep them firmly in place.

With a slow, deliberate motion, you finally pushed your strap into Jiseok’s yearning entrance. His moan, raw and unrestrained, was the loudest you had heard throughout the evening. The sound was a heady mix of pleasure and relief, and you had barely begun to move. The thought swelled your ego, a silent triumph that danced across your features as you watched Jooyeon’s escalating frustration.

Jooyeon thrashed against his restraints, his pleas and apologies, a chaotic blend of desperation. “It hurts,” he cried, his voice breaking with the weight of his need. “Please, it hurts so much. I’m sorry, please!” His incoherent babbling and fervent promises of never repeating his misstep only served to deepen your satisfaction, his desperation a stark contrast to the pleasure you were bestowing upon Jiseok.

After a lingering moment in which you savored the sight of Jooyeon collapsing under the weight of his own frustration, you decided to extend your reach. Your fingers, slick with remnants of dry lube, moved deliberately towards his aching, neglected length. The moment your hand made contact, Jooyeon released a relieved sob, his hips instinctively thrusting into your touch, desperate for the attention he had been deprived of for so long.

The sound of his reaction elicited a genuine chuckle from you, a soft contrast to the earlier cruelty that had colored your interactions. As you continued to stroke him, your touch infused with a tenderness that belied the harshness of the earlier moments, you felt a surge of genuine endearment towards him. You let the pace of your hips gradually quicken, each thrust causing Jiseok’s trembling form to jolt in sync, his moans and whimpers barely a murmur against the overwhelming symphony of pleasure filling the room.

The scene was intoxicating, a vivid tableau of sensual surrender and trust. Both of your lovers were lost in their own realms of ecstasy, unraveling completely at your touch. They lay exposed, their deepest vulnerabilities laid bare before you, their trust in you evident in their complete submission. It was an honor so profound that words would fail to capture its essence. Instead, you chose to express your appreciation through this intimate exchange, allowing them to reveal their rawest selves in the hope that you would tend to their needs with the care and devotion they craved.

Given the intensity of their prolonged arousal, it was no surprise when you felt Jooyeon’s length twitch uncontrollably, a testament to the desperate pleasure you were bestowing upon him. His whines and groans, long stifled, now spilled forth in a chorus of longing. Simultaneously, Jiseok’s moans grew more frequent and pitched, a high, trembling note of his own impending release. Both of them, on the precipice of their climax, were eagerly pushing their needy forms against you, their bodies seeking the final, elusive touch that would drive them to the edge.

The effort you were putting into their pleasure had begun to weigh on you, a dull ache settling into your muscles from the relentless movements. Yet, the sight and sounds of their need kept you going, your resolve unwavering as you continued to give them what they craved. The room was filled with the heady mix of their desperate cries and the rhythmic pace of your motions, a testament to the shared, mounting ecstasy.

It wasn’t long before their bodies surged against you in a final, coordinated dance towards release. Their moans crescendoed into prolonged, melodic expressions of pure bliss, a symphony of gratification that left both men trembling and breathless. As their climaxes unfolded, you gradually eased to a halt, your own breath coming in heavy, ragged gasps. You pulled away from them slowly, allowing them to experience the last shudders of their aftershocks. The intimate silence that followed was filled with the echoes of their satisfaction, a profound testament to the intensity of the shared experience.

As your breaths gradually steadied and your heart rate returned to a more manageable pace, you surrendered to the softness of the mattress beneath you with a sigh of both exhaustion and profound contentment. The cool sheets brushed against your skin as you nestled into the plush surface, feeling the weight of the evening’s intensity finally lifting.

Jiseok, ever attentive and affectionate, immediately drew close to you, his warmth a comforting presence as he settled beside you. His gentle movements were accompanied by the soft clinking of handcuffs being released—your attention briefly drawn to Jooyeon as you freed him from his restraints. The momentary distraction quickly dissolved as Jooyeon, now liberated, nestled against your other side, creating a cocoon of shared intimacy.

You found yourself enveloped in the tender embrace of both men, their bodies pressing close to yours, forming a trio of intertwined warmth and affection. No words were necessary in this tranquil afterglow; the steady rhythm of three heartbeats aligning in a harmonious cadence spoke volumes. It was a silent testament to the deep bond you all shared, despite their penchant for testing your limits. In that quiet, blissful silence, the love between you thrived—unspoken yet undeniably profound.

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ain’t no fucking way i start dying of a cold the night before my 21st birthday what the hell