☔️ BLUE LEMONADE ( Newjeans )
☔️ BLUE LEMONADE ( newjeans )
❛ A chance meeting over a blue lemonade at a coffee shop sparks an awkward crush, culminating in a rainy-day confession that transforms your timid connection into the start of something new as you walk to school together.
𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢 𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐦 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 22 mins
꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first girl group request (made by the lovely @dgybbvrcsacgswtcbkyv)! And honestly my first published girl group piece in general! Hopefully more will be posted soon! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: High School AU, Strangers-to-Crushes, Y/N works at a coffee shop in the mornings before school, Hanni is the school's popular girl, they're both painfully awkward and a little dorky, Y/N gets ghosted for two days, Y/N is implied to be a bit taller than Hanni, let me know if I missed anything!
( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )
The first light of dawn had only just begun to stretch across the city when you found yourself tucked behind the counter of a quaint coffee shop, the scent of freshly ground beans swirling around you. The world outside was still waking, the streets bathed in the soft glow of early morning, with only a few souls braving the chill air. It was a quiet hour, the kind that allowed your thoughts to drift as you worked, hands moving almost on their own as you prepared each steaming cup.
It was in this serene moment that the melodic voice of Hanni Pham cut through the stillness, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine. "Aren’t you from my school?" she asked, her tone curious yet soft, as if the question itself carried the weight of familiarity.
Startled, you looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you met her gaze. There she stood, the popular girl everyone knew, her presence commanding the small space. Her dark hair fell in soft waves around her face, and her eyes, bright and inquisitive, were fixed on you.
You had always admired Hanni from afar, her warmth and kindness setting her apart from the rest, but in this unexpected encounter, you couldn’t help but brace yourself for the worst. The echoes of cruel laughter from your peers lingered in your mind, and despite knowing that Hanni wasn’t like the others, a part of you feared that she might still find a way to mock you, just as so many others had done before.
Yet, as you stood there, words caught in your throat, you realized that the girl before you seemed genuinely interested, her expression free of malice. There was no hint of the cruelty you had grown accustomed to; only the simple, honest curiosity of someone who recognized you and wished to connect.
You watch her through the veil of your lashes, barely daring to breathe as you hum in response to her question. The gentle sound of your confirmation seems to light up Hanni’s face, and you find yourself captivated by the way her smile widens, a warmth blooming in her eyes that seems to chase away the lingering shadows of the early morning.
“That’s so cool,” she murmurs, her voice soft and almost reverent as she takes in the cozy atmosphere of the café. The sincerity in her words takes you by surprise, and before you can stop it, a faint blush rises to your cheeks, your heart fluttering in a way that’s both unfamiliar and strangely comforting.
Gathering the courage to speak, you mumble, “What can I get you?” The words are barely above a whisper, your anxiety weaving them into a quiet melody that seems to float between you. Yet, despite your hushed tone, Hanni hears you, her gaze shifting to the menu hanging above you as she ponders her choice.
Her cheeks puff out slightly as she thinks, a gesture so endearing that it momentarily distracts you from your own nerves. You can’t help but notice the way her fingers fidget with the straps of her backpack, a subtle sign of her own anxiety. Somehow, seeing this small vulnerability in her makes you feel a little more at ease, as if you’re not the only one grappling with uncertainty in this unexpected moment.
“I’d like a lemon poppy seed muffin,” Hanni finally decides, her voice breaking the quiet. You quickly enter her order into the register, your fingers moving almost automatically as you try to steady your racing thoughts. Just as you’re about to hand her the receipt, she speaks again, her next question catching you off guard.
“What cold drink would be good with the muffin? There are so many options here that I wouldn’t know where to even start,” she admits with a light laugh, her eyes meeting yours once more.
The question hangs in the air, and for a moment, you’re at a loss for words. But then, you realize she’s genuinely seeking your opinion, and the thought fills you with a quiet sense of responsibility, as though this small decision is more important than it seems.
You take a moment to consider her question, the weight of her expectant gaze making your heart flutter. After a brief pause, you finally gather the courage to speak, your voice soft but sincere. “Well, I personally am a fan of the blue lemonades we have here. It’d pair well with the muffin.”
The morning light seems to dance in Hanni’s gentle eyes as she listens, her smile widening with a warmth that feels like the sun’s first embrace. She nods, her decision made with an easy grace that makes your chest tighten in the best possible way. “Well, then please add a blue lemonade to my order,” she says, her tone filled with a sweetness that lingers in the air like the scent of freshly baked pastries.
You nod, feeling a sense of quiet satisfaction as you prepare her drink, the task becoming almost meditative under the soft glow of her attention. The way she watches you, so trusting and kind, makes you want to do everything just right, to ensure that her experience is as lovely as she is.
When you finally hand her the cool, vibrant blue lemonade, the smile that spreads across her face as she takes the first sip is nothing short of enchanting. There’s a delightful hum that escapes her lips, a sound of pure contentment that resonates in the small space between you, and it’s all you can do to keep your composure.
Even as you clock out and begin your walk toward school, the memory of that moment clings to you like a cherished melody. You can still see her, bathed in the soft morning light, savoring the drink you had carefully prepared. The image of her satisfied smile and the gentle hum of approval replay over and over in your mind, a loop of warmth and wonder.
As you walk, you can’t help but marvel at how someone could possess such an infectious gentleness, a quality that seemed to radiate from her in waves, touching everything around her with its light. It leaves you pondering the possibilities of what it would be like to know her better, to be in the presence of someone who carries such precious warmth within them.
Throughout the day, you caught fleeting glimpses of Hanni as she navigated the bustling corridors of the school, her presence commanding attention without effort. She moved with a graceful ease, surrounded by the usual throngs of admirers and friends, her laughter a melodic thread that wove through the cacophony of voices. It was nothing out of the ordinary—just Hanni being the bright, beloved figure she always was.
But then there was that moment. A moment that took you by surprise, slipping into your day like a whispered secret. Seeking refuge from the noise and chaos of school life, you had retreated to your usual hiding spot behind the school building. It was a place technically off-limits, a secluded nook that offered a rare pocket of silence, where you could steal a few precious moments to yourself. Despite the risk to your perfect record, the solace it provided was worth it, and so you continued to visit, cloaked in the comfort of your solitary sanctuary.
Unbeknownst to you, Hanni had spotted you slipping away and, driven by a quiet curiosity, decided to follow. You were completely unaware of her presence until you looked up to find her standing there, her figure framed by the soft light filtering through the trees. She smiled down at you with that same kind, gentle glint in her eyes, the warmth of her expression melting away the edges of your solitude.
Caught off guard, you felt your heart race as you struggled to find something—anything—to say. Your hiding spot, once a bubble of safety and comfort, suddenly felt exposed under her gaze. Yet, there was no judgment in her eyes, only a serene interest that made you feel oddly understood, as if she, too, sought moments of quiet in a world that never seemed to slow down.
As she approached, your thoughts wavered, torn between wanting her to stay and wishing to retreat back into the silence that had been your companion. But before you could resolve the conflict in your heart, the moment was interrupted. Hanni’s name rang out from across the courtyard, one of her friends calling her back to the lively world she inhabited.
For a brief second, Hanni hesitated, her gaze lingering on you. Then, with a timid wave and another one of those radiant smiles that seemed to light up the air around her, she turned and rejoined her friends, leaving you alone once more. But even as she walked away, the flutter in your chest remained, a gentle echo of the unexpected encounter that left you wondering what might have been had she stayed just a little longer.
You had initially assumed that Hanni’s sudden interest in you, sparked by that brief encounter at the coffee shop, would fade into a distant memory by the next day. It seemed impossible that someone like her would remember you, let alone seek you out again. So when the gentle chime of the bell above the door signaled the arrival of a new customer, you had no reason to expect anything out of the ordinary.
But as you turned your attention from the old, well-worn coffee machine to the door, your breath caught in your throat. There she was, Hanni Pham, her presence as radiant as the morning light spilling through the windows. Her bright eyes locked onto yours, and her smile—so warm, so familiar—seemed to light up the entire room. In that instant, you froze, your mind struggling to process the reality of her standing there, just as it had the day before.
For a moment, you could only stare, wide-eyed and motionless, as she patiently waited for you to finish preparing the coffee for the customer before her. Her unwavering gaze held a kindness that made your heart skip a beat, and by the time you moved back behind the cash register, your hands were trembling, betraying the nervous excitement bubbling within you.
“Hi again,” she greeted you with a polite bow, her voice carrying a surprising cheerfulness that contrasted sharply with your own weary state. There was no trace of the exhaustion you felt from the early morning hours, only an infectious energy that made it impossible not to smile in return.
Despite your nerves, a timid smile found its way to your lips as you mirrored her bow, your heart fluttering at the sight of the school’s most popular girl standing before you once more. Hanni’s presence seemed to fill the space around her with a brightness that made everything else fade into the background, and as you met her gaze again, the familiar sensation of your pulse quickening reminded you just how deeply her unexpected attention affected you.
“Hello,” you managed to reply, though your voice was softer than you intended, a reflection of the sudden shyness that had taken hold of you. There was a slight tremor in your words, a delicate vulnerability that felt impossible to hide. “Welcome back. What can I get for you today?”
Hanni’s smile remained unwavering, a warm, gentle curve that seemed to carry the morning’s light within it. You couldn’t help but notice how the early sunrays, filtering through the shop’s windows, wrapped around her figure like an ethereal halo, casting her in a soft, almost angelic glow. It was as if the world conspired to make her appear even more enchanting, and you found yourself momentarily lost in the quiet radiance she brought with her.
“Yesterday’s muffin was delicious,” she began, her voice as sweet as the treats you served. “But my favorite was the blue lemonade you suggested. So I came back to order it again.” Her words were simple, yet the sincerity in her tone made your heart flutter. As she stepped closer to the counter, resting her elbows on the surface and cupping her cheeks with a childlike charm, you felt a warmth spread through your chest.
The proximity between you suddenly felt too close and yet not close enough, creating a dry lump in your throat that you struggled to swallow. Her presence was almost overwhelming, an intoxicating mix of kindness and curiosity that left you feeling exposed. You nodded timidly, your fingers moving to enter her order into the cash register, though your mind was a flurry of emotions that threatened to unravel your calm facade.
The price of her order tumbled out of your mouth in a hurried, tangled mess, your voice betraying the nervousness that had taken root within you. Desperate to escape the intensity of her gaze, you quickly turned your back to her, focusing all your attention on preparing her drink. The simple task became a lifeline, something to anchor you as you navigated the storm of feelings that her presence had stirred up.
Even as you busied yourself with the routine motions of mixing the drink, you couldn’t shake the awareness of Hanni standing just a few feet away. Her energy filled the space between you, a subtle yet undeniable force that pulled at the edges of your composure. You wondered if she could sense the effect she had on you, if she noticed the way your hands trembled slightly as you worked. And as you prepared her blue lemonade, you couldn’t help but feel that this small, shared moment was something more—something significant that neither of you fully understood yet.
Eventually, you mustered the courage to turn and face her, offering a shy smile as you gently placed her order onto the counter. Hanni hadn’t moved from her spot, still resting her elbows on the counter, her face delicately cradled in her hands. There was a peculiar sense of intrigue in her gaze, a quiet curiosity that sent your heart into a sudden, uneven rhythm. The way she watched you, as if you were the most fascinating thing in the room, made it nearly impossible to meet her eyes.
With a polite bow, you expressed your gratitude for her purchase, though your voice felt small under the weight of her attention. But Hanni didn’t move, her fingers tightening slightly around the paper bag that held her breakfast, a subtle sign of nervousness that mirrored your own. You tried to focus on anything else, but the magnetic pull of her presence was inescapable.
As the silence stretched between you, curiosity finally got the better of you, and you hesitantly looked up, wondering if there was something more she wanted. But the sight that greeted you left you breathless—a soft gasp escaping your lips as your eyes fell on the small daisy held delicately in her free hand. The sight of it was unexpected, and yet it felt like a small, precious gift, laden with unspoken meaning.
Hanni’s cheeks were tinged with a delightful shade of crimson, her flustered expression revealing a vulnerability that only endeared her to you more. There was something so sincere, so utterly charming about the way she stood there, clearly uncertain but still daring enough to offer this simple token.
Before you could find the words to respond, Hanni quickly placed the daisy on the counter, her movements rushed and clumsy, as if she were caught in a whirlwind of emotions. And just as swiftly as she’d offered the flower, she turned and hurried out of the store, her departure leaving you standing there in a daze, the tiny daisy resting between you as the only evidence of the moment you’d just shared.
As you stared at the delicate flower, a smile slowly spread across your face, the warmth of the encounter lingering long after Hanni had gone. There was a quiet magic in that brief exchange, something that left your heart fluttering with possibilities you hadn’t dared to imagine before.
The delicate petals of the daisy, left thoughtfully on the counter, held your gaze as you turned it over in your fingers. It seemed to have been plucked from someone's garden, its simplicity making the gesture all the more touching. A warmth spread through your chest, swelling your heart with a mix of surprise and quiet joy. You couldn't help but giggle softly, the sound escaping as you replayed the moment in your mind—the timid way Hanni had offered the flower, her usual composure replaced by an endearing awkwardness.
It felt almost surreal to think of Hanni Pham, the girl admired by so many, standing before you in such a flustered state. At school, she was always the picture of confidence, effortlessly navigating the throngs of students who adored her. Yet here she was, reduced to nervousness by something as simple as a daisy. The contrast was striking, and it made the encounter feel all the more intimate, like you had glimpsed a side of her that few others ever saw.
As your shift came to an end, you reluctantly changed into your school uniform, your thoughts still lingering on the unexpected exchange. Carefully, you slipped the daisy into the front pocket of your shirt, feeling its gentle weight against your heart. The thought of seeing Hanni again at school filled you with a mix of anticipation and hope. Perhaps she would notice the flower in your pocket, and understand just how much you appreciated her sweet, unspoken message.
But as the day wore on and you wandered the familiar hallways, your eyes scanning the crowds, a sense of disappointment began to creep in. No matter where you looked, Hanni was nowhere to be found. The absence of her bright smile and warm presence left you feeling strangely empty, as if a small but significant part of your day was missing. And as the hours passed, you couldn't help but wonder if the moment you'd shared had meant as much to her as it had to you, or if it had simply been a fleeting gesture, lost in the flow of time.
Two days had slipped by since Hanni Pham last stepped into the cozy coffee shop where you worked, and though she had only visited twice before, her absence was keenly felt. A quiet sense of disappointment settled over you, mingled with confusion at the sudden shift between you. What had changed? Had you somehow messed up her lemonade in your nervousness the last time she was there? The thought nagged at you, as did the unsettling possibility that her visits had been part of some cruel joke—a way for her and her friends to laugh at your awkwardness.
Yet, despite these doubts, the daisy she left behind held your skepticism at bay. It was a simple, delicate thing, but it had spoken volumes—a gesture that seemed too genuine to be part of any prank. The memory of that moment, her flustered expression and the way she had hurried out of the shop, kept replaying in your mind, offering a glimmer of hope amidst your uncertainty. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to her visits than met the eye.
Since then, you had crossed paths with Hanni a few times, though each encounter was more awkward than the last. Every time your eyes met across the school grounds, a flush would creep up her cheeks, and she would quickly avert her gaze before hurrying off, leaving you standing there with a mix of bewilderment and curiosity. It was as if the daisy had created an invisible thread between you, a connection that neither of you fully understood yet couldn’t ignore. And as the days passed, you couldn’t help but wonder what had really changed, and whether that fragile thread would ever be strengthened—or if it would simply unravel, leaving you with nothing but the memory of a fleeting smile and a flower wilting in your pocket.
You found yourself staring through the large windows of the coffee shop, eyes narrowed at the relentless downpour outside. The rain fell in heavy sheets, turning the world beyond the glass into a blur of gray and silver. The day had begun with a slight humidity hanging in the air, a remnant of the previous night's showers. You'd assumed that as the hours passed, the weather would warm, and the clouds would part. Yet here you were, watching as the rain refused to let up, silently cursing yourself for not bringing an umbrella—just in case.
Frustration simmered within you as you glanced toward your sleepy boss, who was slowly shuffling through receipts at the counter. Hope flickered briefly as you approached him, thinking perhaps he might have a spare umbrella stashed away somewhere—something to shield you from the impending drenching on your walk to school. But when he looked up at you with a pitiful expression, his lips forming a small, regretful frown, your heart sank. The unspoken words hung between you: there was no umbrella, no shelter from the storm.
The realization settled over you like a damp fog, and your shoulders slumped in resignation. You would be forced to face the harsh rain, its cold fingers reaching for you the moment you stepped outside. The thought of trudging through the downpour, schoolbag clutched protectively to your chest, sent a wave of irritation coursing through you. Yet, beneath that frustration, a quiet resolve began to form. You could handle a little rain, even if it meant arriving at school soaked to the bone. The day, after all, had to go on, and so would you—even if it meant battling the elements on your own.
Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself for the discomfort awaiting you—a day where your clothes would cling to you like a second skin, soaked through with rainwater. The thought of spending hours in a wet uniform, cold and miserable, while enduring the stares of your classmates made your stomach twist with dread. There was no escaping it now, though, and no one to blame but yourself for not being wise enough to carry an umbrella, despite the unpredictable weather.
As you stepped out onto the slick sidewalk, the rain assaulted you immediately, each droplet stinging like a million tiny needles against your skin. You broke into a brisk jog, your feet splashing through puddles as you hurried toward the school. The dark clouds above loomed ominously, their wrath evident in the relentless downpour that showed no signs of relenting.
Clutching your backpack tightly to your chest, you bowed your head low in a futile attempt to shield your belongings from the soaking rain. The chill of the wet fabric seeped through your uniform, clinging to your body uncomfortably, making every movement a reminder of your unfortunate situation. With each step, the wetness seeped deeper, the cold tightening its grip on you as you pushed forward, determined to reach the relative shelter of the school as quickly as possible.
A torrent of curses swirled in your mind as you hurried through the relentless downpour, your drenched hair constantly slipping into your eyes, obstructing your vision. Each time you swiped it away, the rain would only force it back, a ceaseless battle that left you increasingly frustrated. Your breath came in ragged, exhausted pants, and with each step, a wave of pure misery washed over you as you realized just how much further you still had to go before reaching the safety of your school. The thought alone was enough to make your heart sink even deeper into despair.
Then, as if the universe had decided to offer you a sliver of mercy, you heard a voice—a familiar one—shout your name from behind. Startled, you nearly stumbled, your momentum causing you to skid to a halt as you spun around, searching for the source of the call. You didn't know who it could be, but you certainly hadn't expected to see Hanni Pham, completely dry under the shelter of a bright blue umbrella, sprinting toward you with surprising speed.
Her cheeks were flushed, though you quickly rationalized that it must have been from her running. You stood there, drenched and slightly bewildered, as she closed the distance between you, your heart racing—not just from the physical exertion but from the unexpected sight of her. Hesitantly, you waited, unsure of what to expect, as she caught up to you, her presence like a beacon of unexpected warmth in the cold, miserable rain.
Hanni reached out clumsily, her hand gripping your shoulder as she stumbled, nearly colliding with you in her haste to stop. She barely managed to avoid knocking you over, her breath coming in short, labored gasps as she tried to regain her balance. The umbrella she held hovered above the two of you, offering a small but much-needed refuge from the relentless rain. You couldn’t help but release a relieved sigh, though you had to hunch down slightly to fit under the cover, given her shorter stature. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, you tried your best to ignore the maddening flutter of your heart caused by her unexpected kindness.
While you were grateful for her sudden appearance, a mild irritation simmered beneath the surface. It had been two days since Hanni had seemingly vanished from your life after being so unexpectedly kind toward you. And now, here she was, as if nothing had happened. To you, it didn’t matter that, according to the unspoken rules of your high school’s social hierarchy, someone as beloved and popular as Hanni Pham wasn’t supposed to be seen interacting with someone like you, someone considered so low on that very same ladder. You were well aware of the invisible barriers meant to keep your worlds apart, but in that moment, none of it mattered.
What did matter was the fact that Hanni had, of her own volition, turned your plain and awkward interactions into something else when she plucked a daisy and left it for you at the coffee shop, her cheeks ablaze with an emotion you couldn’t quite decipher. It wasn’t fair for her to initiate such a change and then leave you hanging, avoiding you as if nothing had happened. As Hanni finally straightened her posture, catching her breath and seemingly ready to speak, she was met with your carefully guarded but unmistakably annoyed expression. You regarded her with a mix of curiosity and frustration, waiting for the explanation you felt you deserved.
Despite the chilly edge in your gaze, Hanni made an effort to appear nonchalant. Her laughter, though light, betrayed a tremor of nervousness as she twirled the ends of her slightly damp hair around her finger. Even in your state of irritation, you found yourself inexplicably charmed by the sight of her. Her eyes, despite the oppressive gray clouds and relentless rain, sparkled with a warmth reminiscent of the gentle morning sun that would occasionally filter through the coffee shop's windows, casting a soft, inviting glow.
You maintain your composure, raising a single eyebrow at her as she fumbles to address the situation. “Uh, it’s a good thing I spotted you and had my umbrella,” she murmured, her voice nearly swallowed by the cacophony of rain. The casualness in her tone only served to heighten your irritation. It was clear she wanted to gloss over the fact that she had vanished for two days without a word, and you were determined not to let her do so.
With a hint of measured annoyance, you replied, “It’s good to see you again, Hanni.”
Her reaction was immediate—an almost imperceptible wince at the subtle bite in your voice. For the first time since her transfer to your school, you saw her frown, and the sight of it struck you with a pang of guilt. The weight of knowing you were the cause of that rare expression was almost suffocating. Yet, despite the tug of empathy in your chest, you knew you had to stand firm. You weren’t someone to be manipulated or dismissed, and you refused to be treated as a mere pawn in whatever game she might have been playing.
"I noticed you kept the flower I gave you in your front pocket all day," she began softly, her gaze fixed on the wet pavement as if seeking comfort in its familiarity. "It looked really nice." Her words were barely above a whisper, and you responded with a half-hearted hum, trying to ignore the rapid fluttering of your heart. Hanni let out a quiet, defeated sigh as she finally summoned the courage to meet your unyielding gaze. "Look, I panicked, okay?"
Her sudden confession caught you off guard, your eyes widening in surprise as your lips parted slightly. A deep crimson blush crept up her cheeks, but despite the embarrassment, she held her gaze steady, even as her hands trembled while keeping the umbrella positioned over both of you, shielding you from the relentless downpour. "You’ll probably think I’m some crazy stalker, but here goes: I’ve had this silly little crush on you for the past year, and it all started one Saturday while you were working. I just stood there, watching you do your thing. You have this kind and soft smile that really caught my attention. And I promise, I wasn’t following you or anything, but after that, I just kept seeing you everywhere. You’re so quiet, and I really wanted to get closer to you.
"One day, I decided I’d try sitting with you at lunch, but you kept disappearing somewhere, and I could never find you. So, I kind of gave up for a while. Then, the other day, I forgot to eat breakfast and ended up stopping by your shop, not even knowing you worked there in the mornings. And, well, the next day, I stupidly gave you that flower out of nowhere, and then I just got really embarrassed. I couldn’t look at you after that because I was so sure you thought I was some weirdo or something. And maybe I was because I kept watching you from afar, hiding, and I noticed you were looking for me in all the places I usually hung out. But I still couldn’t bring myself to come out. Until today."
Hanni inhaled deeply as she concluded her startling confession, her chest rising and falling with the weight of words she had kept bottled up for so long. It dawned on you that she hadn’t taken a single breath as she rambled on, pouring out her heart without pause. You stood there, stunned, as her words echoed in your mind, causing a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts to spiral within you.
You struggled to make sense of it all, your mind racing back through the year’s memories, searching for any sign that might have hinted at her feelings. But try as you might, you couldn’t recall a single instance where Hanni had paid you any mind. All this time, you had believed you were invisible to her, just another face in the crowd, irrelevant in the bright, popular world she inhabited. The realization that you had been wrong, that she had noticed you all along, was a revelation you never expected—certainly not now, and certainly not like this.
Of course, you had always found Hanni intriguing. There was something about her that drew your gaze whenever she was near, a quiet magnetism that you could never fully explain. But you had kept your distance, never daring to imagine that your paths would ever truly cross. It was safer that way, you thought—to admire her from afar, to keep her at the edges of your thoughts, a fleeting presence that you could easily dismiss. That was, until she walked into the coffee shop where you worked for the first time, shattering the careful distance you had maintained.
You couldn't help but feel a wave of fondness wash over you as you observed Hanni, her wide eyes filled with anticipation, brows furrowed in a mix of worry and hope. The frown that lingered on her lips tugged at your heartstrings, and despite the frustration you’d felt moments ago, your resolve began to crumble. Slowly, a warm smile spread across your face, softening the tension that had hung between you.
“You’re so silly, you know that?” you teased, letting out a light giggle as you playfully poked her cheek. The irritation you’d held onto melted away, replaced by the warmth of the moment.
Hanni let out a sigh of relief, her own giggle bubbling up to join yours. The sound was contagious, and you found yourself laughing along with her, the earlier awkwardness dissolving into the gentle rhythm of your shared laughter.
“Let’s walk to school together, yeah?” you asked, your voice tender and inviting. You could hardly contain the surge of affection that welled up inside you when Hanni’s entire face lit up in response. Her eyes sparkled with a happiness that was impossible to miss, and she nodded vigorously, her excitement palpable.
Without another word, the two of you turned to walk side by side, the rain now a mere backdrop to the warmth that blossomed between you. For the first time, you found yourselves heading to school together, a quiet sense of joy settling into the space you shared.
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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🥸
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“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
every time i read something of yours i’m all in my feels STOP (please don’t actually here’s all my love 💕💞💓💗❤️🩹❤️)
can i be 🦨 on your anon list? because if your writing keeps fucking me up you’ll be hearing a lot more from me
🥹🥹 omg?? this is so sweet?? i’m honestly living for this energy honestly
also YES you can be 🦨! thank you for your support and lmfao i love adding pain to my work so chances of my writing continuing to “fuck you up”, as you said, are very high so i’ll be looking forward to your feedback 🥹
【 WWW.MINHOSBITTERRIVER.COM/P1HARMONY 】
💭 GUIDELINES ‣ LIBRARY ‣ TAGLIST & ANONS ‣ REQUEST LIST ‣ PINNED ‣ TIP JAR
📨 REQUESTS ARE CLOSED 📨 WORK COUNT: OO1 📨
NO SMUT OR SUGGESTIVE FOR: Soul & Jongseob
피원하모니──OT6. ( p1harmony )
nothing yet, come back later!
최태양──CHOI TAEYANG. ( theo )
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윤기호──YOON KEEHO. ( keeho )
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최지웅──CHOI JIUNG. ( jiung )
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황인탁──HWANG INTAK. ( intak )
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白翔太──HAKU SHOTA. ( soul )
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김종섭──KIM JONGSEOB. ( jongseob )
🫧─────UNDER THE SUNSET GLOW | 1.6K — ONE-SHOT | in which you undergo a profoundly personal transformation with the support of your doting boyfriend, jongseob. (TRANS BOY READER) REQUESTED
🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!
© MINHOSBITTERRIVER | do not plagiarize, repost or translate my works on this platform or any others.
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에이티즈 ── OT8. ( ateez )
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박성화 ── PARK SEONGHWA.
💥─────LEARN YOUR FILTHY ABCs | 3.9K — HEADCANONS | MDNI | everything regarding what sex would be like with seonghwa. (FEMALE READER)
김홍중 ── KIM HONGJOONG.
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정윤호 ── JEONG YUNHO.
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강여상 ── KANG YEOSANG.
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최산 ── CHOI SAN.
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송민기 ── SONG MINGI.
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정우영 ── JUNG WOOYOUNG.
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최종호 ── CHOI JONGHO.
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© MINHOSBITTERRIVER | do not plagiarize, repost or translate my works on this platform or any others.
❤️ TONIGHT IS ABOUT YOU ( xdinary heroes )
❛ Amidst a night of rekindled romance and sensual pleasure, you and Gunil embrace each other’s desires, finding solace and excitement in your intense and heartfelt reunion.
𝐠𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐥 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 18 mins
꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Requested by the wonderful 🍀 Anon! This is was honestly so sickeningly sweet to write, I really enjoyed this one since it ended up being so soft. I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, Y/N had gone out drinking but is sober by the time they return home, Gunil's been working a lot so he hasn't been home much, romantic and soft smut, handjob, blowjob, profanity, brief mention of Y/N also receiving oral but we don't to read that part, let me know if I missed anything!
( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )
As you carefully slide your shoes off, the familiar hush of your home envelops you, the stillness a stark contrast to the night's revelry. The soft padding of your feet against the cool floor seems amplified in the quiet, and with deliberate care, you place your shoes onto the rack by the entrance. The late hour presses down on you, a reminder to tread softly, mindful not to disturb the peaceful sanctuary that awaits within.
The night had been nothing short of a whirlwind, each moment buzzing with energy and laughter as you and your friends flitted from one bar to the next. Yet now, as you stand in the silence of your apartment, the weight of exhaustion begins to settle in, your body finally yielding to the fatigue that the evening’s adrenaline had kept at bay. It had been ages since you last indulged in such carefree escapades, and the memory of tonight’s adventures lingers warmly, even as the comfort of home beckons you to unwind.
As you quietly peek into the living room, a tender warmth blooms in your chest at the sight that greets you. There, illuminated by the soft, flickering glow of the television, is your boyfriend, Gunil, fast asleep on the couch. The dim light casts gentle shadows across his serene features, highlighting the peacefulness of his slumber. The quiet hum of the TV is the only sound filling the room, a soothing backdrop to the stillness that envelops your home.
Gunil’s hand still loosely grips the remote, a small detail that tugs at your heartstrings. His head is tilted back, resting awkwardly against the couch in a position that must be anything but comfortable. His body remains seated, as if he had only intended to wait a little longer for your return before drifting off. The sight of him like this, so unguarded and patient, fills you with a deep affection that makes you smile softly to yourself.
As you move closer, you hear the gentle rhythm of his snores, a sound that only deepens your affection for him. With careful steps, you lower yourself onto the floor in front of him, making sure not to disturb his peaceful rest. The close proximity allows you to take in the little details—the way his chest rises and falls with each breath, the way his lips are slightly parted in sleep, and the way his hair, tousled from the evening, frames his face. In this quiet moment, the world outside fades away, leaving only the two of you in the comforting stillness of the night.
It had been far too long since you last indulged in a night out with your friends, a reality that hadn’t escaped Gunil’s attention. Sensing your hesitation when the invitation arrived, he had gently urged you to go, reminding you of how much you needed a break, especially to celebrate your friend’s birthday at the club. His encouragement had been the nudge you needed, and as the night unfolded, you found yourself immensely grateful for his insistence. Despite your initial reluctance, the evening turned out to be filled with laughter, music, and the kind of carefree joy that only comes from being surrounded by good company.
As the memories of the night swirl in your mind, you realize that the buzz from the drinks you had at the club has long since faded, leaving behind only a pleasant sense of contentment. Yet, as you watch Gunil now, asleep on the couch, a gentle ache settles in your chest. His peaceful expression, softened by the flickering light of the television, stirs something within you—a reminder of how long it’s been since the two of you have truly connected. The demands of his career, particularly with the release of his new album, have kept him busy, and each time he returned home, it was with an exhaustion that left little room for anything else.
But now, as you sit quietly in front of him, you can’t help but feel a flicker of hope. With the album finally out and his schedule beginning to clear, the possibility of reconnecting, of spending those precious moments together, seems closer than ever. The thought brings a soft smile to your lips, a promise of the warmth and affection that will soon fill the spaces that have felt empty for far too long.
Without a second thought, you find yourself leaning forward, gently resting your chin on his knee. The soft warmth of his skin beneath you, combined with the steady rise and fall of his breathing, anchors you in this quiet, intimate moment. Your eyes, filled with affection, remain fixed on him, drinking in every detail of his serene expression.
A small stir from him catches your attention, and you watch as his brows knit together in that familiar, endearing way that always tugs at your heartstrings. A sleepy groan escapes his lips as he begins to rouse from slumber, the sound muffled yet comforting in the stillness of the room. As he slowly becomes aware of your presence, his eyes flutter open, and you’re met with a gaze that seems to glow with recognition and warmth.
The sight of his sleepy smile, soft and genuine, breathes a new vitality into you, chasing away the remnants of fatigue from your night out. “Baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick and husky with the remnants of sleep, each word wrapped in tenderness. “How was tonight?” His question, simple yet filled with care, wraps around you like a warm embrace, making you feel cherished in a way that only he can.
You remain with your head nestled on his knee, finding solace in the warmth of his presence. He doesn’t move to displace you; instead, he leans forward, his movement gentle and unhurried, to press a tender kiss against your forehead. The touch of his lips is soft, a quiet promise of affection that lingers even as he pulls back to meet your gaze. His eyes hold yours with a depth of emotion that only deepens as his fingers weave through your hair, the motion soothing and filled with love.
For a moment, your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to the comfort of his touch. A contented sigh escapes you, the simple pleasure of being close to him washing away any lingering traces of the evening’s excitement. You open your eyes slowly, your gaze softened by the calm that has settled over you. “It was good,” you murmur, your voice gentle as it breaks the comfortable silence. “I had a lot of fun.”
"See?" he teases, his voice laced with playful triumph. You can’t help but roll your eyes in response, a soft snort escaping you as you catch his smirk. "I knew you'd have a good time going out," he continues, the warmth in his tone making his light-hearted taunt feel more like an affectionate nudge than anything else.
With a small huff of mock indignation, you lift yourself from the floor, shifting onto your knees as you position yourself between his legs. You lean into him, using his lap for support, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of his shirt. The familiar texture beneath your fingertips is comforting, grounding you in this tender moment. He lets you fidget, watching you with a gaze that holds both amusement and adoration. He’d let you do anything you wanted if you asked, and you’re fully aware of the power you hold in these small, intimate moments—something you occasionally enjoy using to your advantage.
His fingers find their way into your hair, gently twirling a strand around as he asks, "Did you drink a lot?" The question is casual, his voice low and soothing, as if he’s simply continuing a conversation from earlier in the evening.
You shake your head slightly, your answer honest. "No, I didn’t," you say, the words soft yet clear. "I wanted to be able to find my way back here safely, didn’t want to bother you." There’s a subtle undercurrent of affection in your response, a quiet acknowledgment of the care you both have for each other. The thought of him worrying or being disturbed by a late-night call was something you wanted to avoid, and your choice reflects that consideration.
He gives you a gentle smile, his fingers continuing their slow, rhythmic twirling of your hair, and in that moment, the unspoken understanding between you both deepens, wrapping the room in a warmth that only the two of you share.
"Smart girl," he chuckles, his voice filled with warmth and amusement. "But I would’ve been more than happy to pick you up." His words are a gentle reminder of the unwavering support he always offers, a reassurance that you’ve come to cherish deeply. You knew this about him, of course, but there’s something in your nature that prefers to keep control firmly in your own hands, especially when you’re out on your own. The idea of relying on someone else, even someone as dependable as him, isn’t something you take lightly.
Yet, his words bring a soft smile to your lips. There’s a tenderness in his reassurance, a quiet promise that he would always be there for you, no matter the hour or the circumstances. His touch, warm and steady, only deepens the comfort you feel, making you melt into the moment, wrapped in the safety of his presence.
After a brief pause, during which the silence between you is filled with a shared understanding, you ask, "How was work?" Your voice is gentle, filled with genuine curiosity and care. This is the first time you’ve seen him today, and the weight of the hours spent apart lingers in the space between you. The question, simple as it is, carries with it the unspoken acknowledgment of the time and energy he pours into his work, as well as the longing you feel to reconnect after a day spent apart.
He sighed deeply, the weariness evident in the way his shoulders sagged as he leaned back into the couch. “It was okay,” he replied, but the tension in his expression betrayed the weight behind his words. You could sense there was more to it, something lingering beneath the surface that he hadn’t yet voiced.
"Most of the day was spent rehearsing," he continued, his tone carrying a hint of exhaustion. "And then I had to sit through a bunch of meetings without the other members. It was painfully boring—just the same old rules they want me to enforce now that we’ve got a little more free time since the comeback promotions are over."
As he spoke, you noticed the deep frown etched onto his face, his frustration palpable. "And it didn’t help that Dumb and Dumber were being extra annoying and troublesome," he grumbled, the familiar nicknames for his bandmates, Jiseok and Jooyeon, causing a soft giggle to escape your lips. The corners of his mouth twitched at your reaction, but the frustration still lingered.
"I don’t understand why they must take everything as a joke," he went on, shaking his head in disbelief. "I love them—please don’t get me wrong—but my gosh, do you think they know it won’t kill them to not joke around and listen for just a minute?" His voice held a mix of exasperation and fondness, the duality of his feelings toward his bandmates shining through.
As he vented, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes softened, the tension slowly ebbing away as he shared his thoughts with you. The connection between you both deepened with each word, his vulnerability allowing you to see the man behind the leader, the one who carried the weight of responsibility while still holding a deep love for those who made his life both challenging and joyful.
You nod in understanding, your expression a blend of empathy and mild amusement at the inevitable chaos Gunil’s bandmates always seem to bring. As your fingers drift to caress his lower abdomen, you notice the way his gaze lingers on your hand, the subtle flicker of something unspoken passing through his eyes before he clears his throat. You feign innocence, despite the mischievous glint in your eyes that betrays your true intentions.
“Being a leader sounds so exhausting,” you murmur softly, your voice a soothing melody that seems to ease the tension in his posture. The words hang in the air, wrapping around him like a comforting embrace, and you feel him physically relax under your gentle touch. For a moment, you keep your hand resting on his abdomen, the warmth of your palm seeping through the fabric of his shirt, grounding him in the present.
But then, with a playful glint in your eye, your fingers begin to travel lower, tracing delicate, shapeless patterns on his upper thighs. The touch is light, almost teasing, and you can feel the shift in the atmosphere as Gunil’s breathing deepens, the sudden tension crackling between you. His eyes scan your face, searching for any signs of intoxication, a habit born from a place of care and concern.
When he finds none, he lets out a deep sigh, a mixture of relief and anticipation, as if surrendering to the moment. The weight of the day begins to melt away, replaced by the intoxicating pull of your presence, your playful affection rekindling the connection between you in a way that words alone could never achieve.
"I missed you so much; you honestly have no idea," Gunil grunted, his voice thick with longing, his eyes darkening with desire as they bore into you. You gazed up at him through your lashes, offering a soft, innocent smile that you knew he found irresistible. The subtle curve of your lips only deepened the magnetic pull between you, the kind that had your heart quickening in anticipation.
His words lingered in the charged atmosphere, and you could feel the heat rising within you, your pulse matching the rhythm of the desire that simmered just beneath the surface. "I missed you too, baby, so much it’s not even remotely funny," you murmured, your voice low and intimate, the only sound cutting through the tense air, aside from the faint, forgotten hum of the television behind you. Your eyes remained locked on his, an unspoken understanding passing between you as the world around you faded into irrelevance.
Your core ached with need as you watched his length harden, the sight sending a thrill of power coursing through you. He hadn’t even removed his pants, and yet, his body responded to you with a raw intensity that made you revel in the control you held over him. His gaze never wavered, filled with a lust that matched your own, fueling the growing tension that crackled in the air.
"But now that you don’t have to leave me so early in the mornings for interviews and such," you murmured, your tone turning sultry, your lips curving into a slight smirk as your touch became more deliberate. You reached up to the waistband of his grey sweatpants, fingers brushing against the fabric, teasing but not yet pulling them off. "What do you say I show you just how much I missed you, huh? It'll help you destress, too."
Gunil's breath hitched at your sultry offer, a shiver of anticipation rippling through him as all rational thoughts seemed to abandon his mind. You could see the surrender in his eyes, the way his logical defenses crumbled in the face of your teasing promise. His nod was almost dumb, a testament to the overwhelming desire that clouded his judgment.
Your teasing smirk widened, a hint of mischief dancing on your lips as your hands remained firmly gripping the waistband of his sweatpants. Despite his silent consent, you made no move, savoring the way his helplessness played into your hands. "No, baby, you know better than that," you murmured gently, the words dripping with affection. "You’ve got to use your words, like the good boy I know you are." Your eyes roamed over his flushed face, admiring how his lustful neediness mixed with exhaustion to create a heady blend of desire.
"Yes," he breathed heavily, his voice a low, pleading murmur. "Show me how much you've missed me, please." There was something undeniably endearing about how easily he crumbled under your teasing touch. His plea was earnest, laced with the vulnerability that made your heart ache with tenderness.
As you saw the blissful neediness etched in his expression, combined with the weariness of his long day, you decided to indulge him. With a swift, decisive movement, you pulled his sweatpants and underwear down to his ankles in one fluid motion. A soft chuckle of endearment escaped your lips as you watched his hardened length spring free, the sight of it lightly slapping against his clothed abdomen.
Gunil groaned in relief, the sound low and guttural, but his dark, desire-filled gaze never left yours. The raw intensity of his stare only deepened the connection between you, heightening the moment with an almost palpable charge of anticipation and affection.
"Aw," you coo softly, leaning in closer to his eager core, your breath warm against his sensitive skin. "You're already so ready for me?" The playful note in your voice is tinged with genuine surprise, and you can’t help but savor the sight of his flushed, eager response.
Gunil huffs at your teasing, but there’s no real irritation in his tone—only the soft undertone of affection and vulnerability. "You know I'll always be ready like this for you," he murmurs, his voice laced with sincerity. "I can't help it." His words are a tender confession, wrapped in the promise of unending devotion.
Your heart swells with emotion, the intensity of his confession making your cheeks flush a deep crimson. The warmth that spreads across your face mirrors the fluttering sensation in your chest, making you feel both cherished and vulnerable. Gunil’s eyes twinkle with amusement, his laughter a gentle, loving sound that only deepens your blush.
In this moment, it becomes clear that the power dynamics are beautifully mutual. While you wield a tender influence over him, it’s equally true that he holds an undeniable grip on your heart. The thought of his effect on you, the way he can effortlessly bring a flush to your cheeks and a smile to your lips, fills you with a contented warmth. You wouldn’t dream of complaining about the hold he has on you; it’s a bond you cherish deeply, one that makes every touch, every word, all the more meaningful.
You wasted no time, your fingers curling around his throbbing length with a careful yet eager grip. The delicious girth of him filled your palm, a sensation that made you pause for a moment, savoring the warmth and weight of his desire. The simple touch elicited a deep, blissful groan from Gunil, causing him to momentarily throw his head back in sheer pleasure. His eyes, dark and intense, quickly snapped back to you, following your every move with a mix of anticipation and longing.
As you held him, your self-restraint slipped away, replaced by a primal desire to fully explore and enjoy the moment. Leaning in close, you allowed a deliberate drop of saliva to glide down onto the crimson-red tip of his length. The contrast of the cool, slick moisture against his heated skin caused a shiver of pleasure to run through him. You began to stroke him with a languid, almost lazy pace, yet the effect was anything but subdued. Each movement had Gunil gasping and grunting beneath you, his body reacting eagerly to the rhythm you set.
Watching him lose himself so easily in the pleasure you were giving him, a pang of nostalgia and longing settled in your chest. You recalled the last time you had seen him like this, a few months ago, before his comeback had taken him away for what felt like an eternity. The realization of how long it had been since you had shared such intimate moments together spurred you on with renewed urgency.
Quickening your pace, you used your free hand to press into his lower abdomen, holding him steady as his hips began to buck instinctively against your touch. The depth of his pleasure, the way his body responded to you, filled you with a sense of satisfaction and connection, making the moment all the more intense and precious.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gunil chanted breathlessly, his voice a low murmur of desperation as beads of sweat began to glisten on his forehead. The pleasure building within him was palpable, each wave of sensation intensifying with every passing second. Just as he reached the brink, you abruptly abandoned the steady rhythm of your hand, causing a high-pitched whine to escape his lips—an instinctive sound of frustration and longing.
You let out a soft, teasing chuckle, shifting slightly on your knees to draw closer to him. Your fingers, now slick with his arousal, wrapped around his length once more. This time, however, your touch was deliberate and slow, as you hovered just above his sensitive tip. With a playful, lingering gaze, you pressed a gentle kiss to his aching head, eliciting a guttural moan from Gunil. His hips bucked upwards, driven by a desperate yearning to feel the warmth of your mouth enveloping him.
Without making him wait, you enveloped his tip with your lips, the warmth and wetness of your mouth sending shivers of pleasure through him. Your tongue darted out, teasing and tasting, as you slowly began to sink your head downward. Gunil’s moans grew louder, each sound a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were bestowing upon him. As you descended further, your nose brushed against his pelvis, and you could feel the tip of his arousal touch the back of your throat. The sensation of him so deep within you only heightened the intensity of the moment, making the connection between you both even more profound and intimate.
Gunil’s fingers wove themselves into your hair, gripping gently yet firmly as he anchored you in place. The sensation of his touch, combined with the warmth of his arousal against your lips, was intoxicating. You luxuriated in the moment, savoring the long-awaited intimacy after such a lengthy separation. As you settled into the rhythm, you made sure to breathe through your nose and hollow out your cheeks, a subtle adjustment that heightened both your comfort and his pleasure.
“God, baby, I missed your mouth so much,” he groaned, his voice a deep rumble of need as he began to guide your head up and down his length. You acquiesced to his movements for a moment, allowing him to control the pace, feeling his pleasure build with each pass. However, a teasing glint flickered in your eyes as you decided to exert your own control. With a swift motion, you slapped his hand away and pulled back, a mix of his arousal and your saliva trickling past your lips.
You wiped away the remnants with a deliberate, casual gesture before looking up at him with a stern yet gentle expression. “Tonight is about you relaxing, baby, so let me take care of you.” Your voice was soft but commanding, carrying the promise of indulgence. Gunil, whose disappointed whine echoed your withdrawal, nodded eagerly, his hips instinctively bucking upward in a desperate plea for your return. His eyes, clouded with a mix of desire and vulnerability, followed your every movement, silently begging for the intimacy you were poised to give.
For a few lingering moments, you admired the sight of Gunil completely consumed by his lustful desires, his every expression a testament to the pleasure you were giving him. With a delicate, practiced grace, you slid your mouth down his length until your nose brushed against his pelvis once again. This time, however, you were quick to lift your head, leaving only the tip of his arousal nestled in your mouth.
As you resumed your rhythmic motion, your head bobbing up and down his leaking length, you allowed your tongue to dance and twirl around him, caressing every delicious vein with teasing precision. You lavished attention on his tip, sucking lightly while your tongue explored his slit, a touch that never failed to elicit a breathless cry from him. Gunil’s grip tightened on the couch cushions, his knuckles white from the strain as he fought to stay grounded.
In a shift of focus, you let your hand drift to his tightened balls, gently massaging them to enhance his pleasure. His reaction was immediate and profound; you noticed his eyes were thrown back, tightly shut, as he surrendered completely to the sensations. Gunil looked almost ethereal in this state—his chest heaving with each ragged breath, his mouth slightly agape with his tongue lolling to one side, and his muscles flexing as he refrains from taking away the control you'd so kindly requested.
The sight of him, so beautifully vulnerable and lost in ecstasy, stirred a deep ache of affection within you. Every subtle detail of his expression, every shudder of his body, made your heart swell with a yearning that was almost overwhelming. You knew, in that moment, that you wanted more—more of this intimacy, more of the exquisite connection that bound you together.
The escalating rhythm of your movements, coupled with the tender caress of your hand on his sensitive balls, quickly overwhelmed Gunil. The intensity of the moment, magnified by the prolonged separation, drove him to release a series of broken moans, each sound a testament to the powerful climax that consumed him. His grip on your head tightened, pressing you firmly against his pelvis as waves of pleasure washed over him.
You felt the warmth of his release as it trickled down your throat, the sensation both satisfying and intensely arousing. The ache in your core grew more urgent, a desperate need that made you instinctively rub your thighs together in search of friction. It took several moments for Gunil to descend from his high, his breathing ragged and his body shivering with the aftershocks. As he finally loosened his grip, you pulled away from his softening length, savoring the lingering warmth that clung to your tongue.
When Gunil’s eyes fluttered open, you made a deliberate show of displaying the remnants of his release before swallowing and sticking your tongue out to reveal its absence. His reaction was immediate—a deep, appreciative groan followed by a satisfied chuckle. With an affectionate tenderness, he leaned down to press a passionate kiss to your lips, a gesture that elicited a soft moan from you. His touch was gentle yet insistent as he pinched your chin lightly between his thumb and index finger, guiding you to look up at him. His gaze was filled with a love so intense it nearly took your breath away, and his smile radiated pure adoration.
“I know you said tonight was about me,” he murmured, his voice husky and roughened from pleasure, a sound that filled you with a deep sense of satisfaction. “But I missed you too much not to taste you as well.” With a swift, decisive movement, you gasped in delight as you were gently but firmly pushed onto the soft couch. Gunil now knelt eagerly before you, his gaze fixed on your drenched arousal with a hunger that mirrored the intensity of your own desires.
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🪩 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!
NEWJEANS is now added to the list of K-Pop groups I want to write for! Please make requests for them to get me started!
( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )
heyheyheyhey green! how are you? how’s summer going?
i noticed you haven’t been very active recently and i just wanted to know if you’re doing okay
- 🦨
Hi 🦨!
Sorry I haven’t been so active, I’m going through a miserable case of writer’s block :( I’m trying to write a little bit every day anyway so that I don’t just completely abandon all my projects but it’s been very rough.
On a more positive note, I’ve recently joined the P1Harmony fandom so I added that to the list of groups I’m willing to write about so hopefully writing about something other than SKZ will help with my creativity!
Anyway, my summer has been spent on YouTube for the most part lol BUT I just went to Pride for the first time last weekend which was pretty fun! Walked in in true queer fashion: arguing with my ex girlfriend 💀
How are you? How’s your summer going?
As a Deaf person, I appreciate this person’s want to offer some form of representation of the Deaf community despite them being hearing themself. However, I don’t believe it’s correct to do so without having the most basic knowledge on the language we use to communicate. It’s easy to know when the author doesn’t know anything about the culture they’re trying to write. Like OP mentioned, it’s not to be fluent in sign language, but it’d be nice to actually delve into your character enough that you learn a little bit. Otherwise, this lack of investment makes the Deaf reader feel very used and/or like you didn’t really bother getting to know us as a community to begin with — a feeling we know all too well. We’re so much more than what people think, I guarantee you’ll be surprised.
Something I think could be helpful is to ask yourself why you want to write a Deaf character?
Anyway, I wish you and anyone else who wants to write Deaf characters well.
I have a question, if it's not too much of a bother. I'm a hearing writer who describes tones and voices more than anything, maybe. I have a character who is deafened near the end of my story and learns sign language to communicate. I've read posts saying that instead of describing a loud voice, for example, I should talk about exaggerated movements in sign. Now, I don't understand sign (the particular character learns BSL). How do I do the description anyway? Thanks, Luna 💛
Hi! I answered this ages ago but Tumblr is a piece of shit and didn’t upload the answer (•ˋ _ ˊ•) But anyhow, take two:
Don’t worry about the description until you’re ready to edit your manuscript over with a fine tooth comb, or you’ll never get anything written. Being a hearing writer, you’ll be used to sounds, and that’s okay! I’ll come back to the actual craft in a moment, but before I do, your ask has a few points in that I’d like to address.
Firstly, make sure you understand at least some sign. I’m not saying that you need to learn to speak the language fluently or anything, but it would be awesome if you could do some research into the basics such as grammar and facial punctuation. Once you’ve got those straight in your head, it ought to be easier to describe the signed dialogue in a more natural way.
Secondly, I highly doubt your character is 100% Deaf. That is incredibly rare. It’s more likely that your character will have a limited amount of residual hearing–ie, they can hear noises that are low-pitched and high-volume, but the sound is “murky” or unclear. So while some background sounds could filter through to them, others wouldn’t even register. Whether they can hear human speech or not depends on the levels of hearing loss. (I talk a bit about the levels of Deafness in this post; you should do some further research yourself)
As for the craft itself, here’s the method I use for editing:
Find all of the instances where you’ve described a sound and highlight them (either by hand or with something like Word’s highlighter tool)
You could also use the Find or Search tool to hunt down any sound descriptors by searching for hearing buzzwords like heard, sound, loud, quiet, noise etc
Some of these descriptions won’t even be necessary, which is a normal part of editing whether you’re writing a Deaf character or not
But once you’ve found the necessary descriptors, see if there is something that they can be replaced with
For example, instead of “The leaves on the trees whispered in the wind” you could write about the source of the sound: “She could see the tree branches shiver in the rising wind out of the corner of her eye.”
Or maybe focus on another sense–there are four left, after all!
Sight, taste, smell and touch will all be compensating for the lack of sound. Use them.
It’ll take some re-training, but you’ll get there eventually. Practise and experimenting is key
And for dialogue, here is a list of what you’ll want to be taking note of:
facial expressions
body language
proxemics (ie, does one character move nearer to the other or away?)
tics or non-sign actions (fiddling with clothes, tugging hair, shifting weight from foot to foot etc)
Hope this helps!
SHIBARI WITH SKZ.
ot8 x gender neutral reader.
content warnings: shibari, sex, intense emotional connection, anal fingering (male receiving)
summary: i love shibari with my entire soul and i feel like we as a society don’t talk about it enough — particularly about how emotional it can be if done right.
💭 GUIDELINES ‣ LIBRARY ‣ TAGLIST & ANONS ‣ IN PROGRESS ‣ REQUEST LIST ‣ PINNED
🪢 BANG CHAN.
Chan would like tying you up but would mostly enjoy being tied up himself. I feel like when you first proposed the idea to him, he was nervous but decided to try for you anyway and ended up loving it. He’s a guy that is constantly dealing with stress and anxiety, so it’s almost a healing experience to fully let go of control and letting you do whatever you saw fit. It usually ended with you riding him gently, and he’ll be the type to tear up a little after you both cum because the time you’d just spent together was so deeply emotional.
🪢 LEE KNOW.
He himself doesn’t get tied up, but I feel like he would like tying up his partner using the shibari method. I feel like he would enjoy it quite a lot, especially if it leads to some electrifying, intensely emotional sex once the tying part is done. Like he’ll be thrusting into you deeply yet slowly, massaging all the sensitive spots he knows of while doing so. He wants to hear your moans that sound so preciously different from the way it sounds during regular sex — this one comes from the serenity of your mind, it’s everything you feel pushed into the soft sounds he coaxed out of you. Your face, the sounds, the way your body moved in rhythm with his despite the restraints — he’ll cum and keep going until he’s had several orgasms and he can’t anymore, nothing turns him on like being like this does.
🪢 CHANGBIN.
Tie him up. He’ll tie you up every once in a while, but mostly him, especially if done in front of a mirror. I feel like he’d be the kind of guy to enjoy watching himself being tied up with pink rope, and the way you’d leave a trail of kisses everywhere. He adores having sex with you like that, and he’ll cum if you play with his hole just right. He’s so soft, so buff and strong but he’d look so stunning tied up like that, whimpering your name as he grows more and more needy.
🪢 HYUNJIN.
I feel like this might be a genuine kink that he has, but it might be reserved to the lovers he shares the deepest, most intense connections with. Something about the way he describes himself as an emotional guy, his artistic perspective, his gentleness — everything makes me feel like he’d love this as much as I do. His touch would be so tender, and he’d caress your skin with every knot he made, and once you’re all tied up he just pulls you onto his lap while you’re both naked and he just holds you for a moment there. Like it’s not necessarily a sexual thing for him, just the amount of trust it takes to be in that type of mindset while tied up like that. It’s a form of bonding for him. He also likes being the one tied up by his lover, and he’ll be extra clingy and would need all the praise in the world before, during and after.
🪢 HAN.
He would definitely be the one to be tied up, he’s just the kind of guy who adores being at the complete mercy of his partner. It’s the ultimate sign of trust and intense love for him — he trusts you to care for him when in such a vulnerable state, and therefore that shows how much he also loves you. Constant eye-contact is very much needed, he needs to see your face, your expressions, everything. Kissing is more than encouraged as well, just call him a good boy or a pretty baby and he’ll be melting on the spot.
🪢 FELIX.
Something in my gut tells me that he would be the one to briefly bring it up as a kink he’s heard about before and found interesting, but then once you do research and seriously suggest trying it, he would be nervous. Perhaps it’s the level of intimacy, or the fear of doing it wrong — but he would need some time to think on it. Eventually, he’ll agree and it’ll lead to the most mind-blowing sex either of you have ever experienced. His hands are just so soft and gentle as he ties you up, and then when he finally fucks you, it’s all praises and eye-contact and him just fully catering to your every need for as long as you wish.
🪢 SEUNGMIN.
Doing shibari with him would be a bit more rough, I think. He’ll be domming you, but it’s a mixture of stern and soft. The time spent tying you up would be soft and he’d have his twinkling brown eyes on you the whole time while making you laugh a little with his jokes to soothe you. But once he’s inside of you, it’s like an animal takes over and he’s thrusting in and out of you at such an ínstense speed, you have no other option but to scream his name as you cum several times before he does.
🪢 I.N.
The first time you both experiment with shibari, he’s the one getting tied up. He’s not much for physical affection, but something about it made him grave for kisses and squeezes as often as possible. He needed constant reassurance as you worked, he was evidently nervous since it was new to him. It didn’t lead to sex though, because as soon as you wrapped your hand around his cock, he was feeling a little overstimulated but he didn’t want to be untied; he just wanted you close, to feel your skin on his while his mind floated away. Like with Hyunjin, shibari served as a bonding experience for the two of you.
(🏷️) taglist : @grandpafelixx
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