Can I Be The 👽 Emoji For Your Anons??? I Wanna Interact With You More Than Just Liking And Reblogging

❔Choose a random WIP and talk about it.

- 🦨

Long time no see, 🦨! Hi! How are you?

( ❔ ) Choose a random WIP and talk about it.

Ever since the Hunger Games movies have come out, it’s become tradition for me to watch all four of them on my birthday. It’s an intense way to spend my birthday, I’m well aware, but I’m very political IRL and I also never go out so I have the time to do it (usually).

Anyway, so as a lot of you guys are aware, my birthday was last December 21st and of course I had to follow with my little tradition. Only this time I came up with a Lee Know Hunger Games AU and have been completely obsessed with the entire idea.

There’s still a lot of aspects I need to figure out since I don’t want it to be just a mindless love story that completely erases then entire purpose of the series themselves. Hell, I don’t even have a title worked out yet or even if I’ll be posting it after all, but I’m so fucking excited about it it’s not even funny. So I just spend a lot of my time writing down ideas and such.

One thing I do have nailed down are Lee Know and Y/N’s (or maybe she’ll be an OC instead of a reader, if I finish and decide to post later on I might have you guys decide) background stories, the connections between the majority of the characters, and the dynamics between them and such. I feel like it’s all writing itself, not to sound full of myself or anything, all I want to figure out is the arena aspect and how everything will go from Point A to Point B, because Point B is already set in stone.

Let me know if you’d read something like that!

Wanna join? Here’s the WIP Game!

this one is so cute omg 😭 now i want chocolate cake tho

thank you for tagging me 🩷

no pressure tags: @setoffthewolves @perfectlyoongi-main @seung-mong @minholover1 @skzstan12345 @sunnyrisee @m-oonfloweer @oisoupita @lostinmycolor @literarybaby @bittcrsvveet @ncpe @alexs-mardy-bum @matryosika @cheesetteok @astraysimp @zeroeightzeroone @wolfrockstar @christronomy @ddyskz + anyone else who wants to join!!

new picrew dropped, stolen from the besties over on nsfvv twitterrrr

make yourself here: https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1712061

this is me in all my soft glory (the background options are fucking hilarious btw)

tagging (without any pressure): @stayconnecteed @hyunsvngs @hyunjins-dimples @cinhomi @cbini

hey! can i request you and ot8 skz kissing in front of the other members?

Hey Anon! Thank you so much for this very sweet request! It was so much fun to write it, and I hope I delivered well! You're more than welcome to make more requests if you wish to 🫶── ( 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 )

────* ˚ ✦ CAUGHT IN THE ACT (HYUNG LINE | MAKNAE LINE)

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ) 15.6K

You guys are insane (affectionate)! Thank you so much for all the love you’ve given this piece 🫶

──★ 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( enhypen )

❛ In which you’re the idol who somehow snatched the members of Enhypen’s heart at first sight.

𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐲𝐩𝐞𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 8.8k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! All of the members are found below the cut! Enjoy! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Love at first sight trope, Idol Y/N AU, inconsistent POV, whether Y/N is a solo artist or a member of a group varies from member to member, lots of mentions of being stressed with work, Y/N in Jake’s piece has some negative opinions on the HYBE company (which doesn’t reflect my own personal opinions), Y/N and Sunghoon are drunk together but it’s all pretty mild, meet-cutes for all members except for Jake — his is more of a one-sided enemies-to-lovers trope, let me know if I missed anything!

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

이희승 ── LEE HEESEUNG.

An exhausted sigh brushed past Heeseung's lips as he trudged into the empty elevator of his company building. With his backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, he leaned heavily against the cold, metallic railing at the back of the enclosed space. The hum of the elevator's ascent seemed to echo his own weary thoughts, a turbulent mix of pride and anxiety swirling in his mind. Images of the countless posters featuring his face, alongside those of his members, plastered all over town flashed before his eyes. Despite the pride he felt in the fanbase Enhypen had garnered since their debut, a gnawing fear tugged at his heart — a fear that after all the sacrifices made for this new comeback, it might still fall short of expectations.

Lost in his own tumultuous sea of thoughts, Heeseung was jolted back to reality by the sudden chime of the elevator, signaling its stop. The sound snapped him from his reverie, and as the doors opened, he stumbled out onto the wrong floor, colliding gently with someone exiting the opposite way. His face flushed with embarrassment as he muttered a hasty apology, realizing he had disembarked prematurely. Flustered, he shoved his arm between the closing doors to force them open again, avoiding eye contact with the stranger who had witnessed his blunder. The mortification deepened as he heard the soft, amused chuckle from the person he’d bumped into.

In the brief moment of awkward silence that followed, your melodic voice broke through, catching Heeseung’s attention. “Aren’t you one of the members of Enhypen? Heeseung, right?”

His gaze, which had been fixed on the floor in embarrassment, hesitantly lifted to meet your bright eyes. The connection felt electric, as if a spotlight had suddenly focused on you, illuminating the exquisite details of your face. Heeseung was struck by an overwhelming sense of awe, his heart racing as he tried to gather his thoughts. Unfortunately, his voice seemed to have abandoned him completely, leaving him with no words other than a timid nod.

The smile that graced your lips was like a burst of sunshine, sending Heeseung’s heart into a whirl. Your eyes sparkled with genuine excitement, and he could almost feel the warmth of your enthusiasm radiating towards him. It was a small yet endearing display of your excitement that tugged at his heartstrings.

“I honestly can’t believe I’m meeting you,” you said, your voice bubbling with unfiltered joy. “I’ve already listened to every song on your new album, Romance: Untold, and it’s truly amazing. My favorite is definitely ‘Moonstruck’ — I’ve had it on repeat so much that it might be considered a bit of an obsession.”

Heeseung managed to curl the corners of his lips into a shy grin, chuckling softly at the sight of your unrestrained praise. Though his mind was still blank and his ability to articulate a response seemed impaired, the sight of you raving about his work was heartening. You didn’t seem to mind, as you turned your attention back to the slowly descending elevator, which gave Heeseung a clear view of your slightly flushed cheeks.

Suddenly, a realization seemed to hit you, causing your eyes to widen in a mixture of panic and embarrassment. “Oh no, I hope you don’t think I’m just a weird fan who snuck in here! I’m actually one of the members of a new group that debuted a few months ago. I’m the eldest member, actually. Um, I’m Y/N.” Your once bold and outgoing demeanor gave way to a nervous, stammering apology as you quickly rattled off your introduction. Heeseung couldn’t help but chuckle softly, the sight of your flustered state easing his own tension.

As if sensing your discomfort, the elevator doors slid open with a familiar chime, allowing you to bow hurriedly before slipping out of the confined space. Heeseung, feeling a sudden surge of determination, followed you into the lobby. His hand reached out, gently grabbing your wrist and bringing you to a stop. The startled look on your face, accompanied by your crimson cheeks, made Heeseung’s heart race. The way your eyes gleamed with curiosity and surprise left him breathless, and he felt a rush of courage to keep you from walking away.

“I – I really appreciate you enjoying our album,” he blurted out, his voice trembling slightly. His eyes darted around, searching for the right words to extend the fleeting moment. “I’ll admit that I haven’t heard your music yet, but... um, if you’re free now, maybe we could grab a coffee? I’d love to hear more about your group and listen to your stuff.”

The transformation in your expression was instantaneous. The soft gasp that escaped your lips, combined with your shy nod of agreement, filled Heeseung with an exhilarating sense of relief and excitement. If the thread of his life had been cut at that moment, he would have died the happiest man on earth. Your smile, so bright and genuine, breathed new life into his day, turning a simple encounter into something extraordinary.

박종성 ── PARK JONGSEONG.

As the award show neared its conclusion, the atmosphere of genuine enjoyment gradually gave way to a palpable restlessness. Idols, exhausted from hours of watching performances and listening to repetitive acceptance speeches, were eager to leave.

Jay, seated among the sea of idols, found himself particularly conscious of the numerous cameras stationed around the venue. Each lens seemed to capture his every movement, broadcasting it to the fans watching from the comfort of their homes. Normally, he was accustomed to this constant scrutiny, but tonight felt different. The hours seemed to stretch interminably, and he watched as a parade of performers and winners he barely recognized took the stage.

His body ached from the relentless dance and vocal rehearsals leading up to their next comeback, the dull pain in his muscles a constant reminder of his exhaustion. Despite his best efforts to maintain a stoic expression for the sake of Engenes, Jay felt the strain, his neck twinging painfully with every attempt to relieve it.

The host, a familiar figure in a sharp suit, made his way to the center of the stage for the final time. Adjusting his tie with a practiced charm, he flashed a bright grin that could be seen even from the back rows. Jay barely registered the words as the emcee began his closing speech, his mind focused on the discomfort in his neck.

“What a night, what a night,” the host began, his voice tinged with rehearsed sentiment. “I can comfortably say that this will be an unforgettable evening for many — myself included.”

He paused, glancing around the audience with a knowing smile. “I know I’m supposed to end the night with a heartfelt speech, but we have one final surprise that I’m sure you’ll all enjoy — a special performance.”

Confusion rippled through the audience as murmurs filled the room. Jay furrowed his brows, intrigued yet weary.

“As you all know, there is a nationally beloved solo artist who has been on hiatus for seven months.” The anticipation in the room grew palpable. “Yes, you know exactly who I’m talking about! Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back our one and only — Y/N!”

The moment you stepped onto the stage, the audience erupted in applause and cheers. Your emotional grin barely concealed the tears threatening to spill from the overwhelming support. For Jay, the world seemed to collapse in on itself, leaving only the ethereal vision of you. The simple act of walking and smiling was enough to leave him breathless.

As you took your place at the center of the stage, the music began, and the cheers gradually quieted. Every discomfort Jay had felt moments ago vanished as he watched you raise the microphone to your lips, your eyes turning into crescent moons with your unwavering smile.

Your voice was enchanting, filling every corner of the stadium and striking the hearts of everyone present with its raw emotion. Jay was no exception. He was captivated by the intensity and beauty of your performance, feeling every note resonate deeply within him. As the final gentle notes faded, tears you had held back began to roll down your cheeks, ruining your makeup but enhancing your vulnerability.

The audience's applause was deafening, a testament to their love and admiration. Despite the chaos, your heart swelled with gratitude at the sight of so many people celebrating your return.

The award show faded into a distant memory as you found yourself surrounded by people offering heartfelt praise and excitement. Your cheeks ached from smiling, but the bliss of the moment was worth every second. Faces blurred together as you moved from one conversation to the next, each interaction a reminder of how much you were loved and missed.

Throughout it all, Jay watched you from a distance, his group members having long since left. He desperately wanted to approach you but felt intimidated by the constant stream of admirers. Eventually, he resigned himself to the idea that he might not get the chance to express how profoundly your performance had affected him. With a heavy heart, he signaled to his bodyguard that he was ready to leave.

Outside the stadium, the noise of the city offered a reprieve from the weight of his celebrity persona. Jay enjoyed the simple act of watching cars pass by, lost in thought. He didn’t notice you until you sighed contentedly and took the empty spot beside him.

“Pretty night,” you said softly, your voice tender and soothing. Jay turned to you, stunned into silence by your presence. The fluttering in his stomach intensified.

In an effort to compose himself, he looked back at the road. “You must be tired,” he said, trying to sound casual. “After so long away from the spotlight, I mean.”

You giggled, a sound that squeezed his heart. “Blissfully drained.”

Jay chuckled, stealing a quick glance at you before returning his gaze forward. The comfortable silence between you was enough, each moment charged with unspoken emotions.

“You know,” you began, “I watched your performance from the dressing room. I really enjoyed it.”

The blush that crept up Jay’s ears was immediate, followed by a shy smile. Your compliment left him feeling both flustered and elated. You turned away slightly, your own cheeks flushed.

Before Jay could respond, a black Cadillac pulled up in front of him, signaling it was time to leave. Panic set in as he realized he hadn’t said everything he wanted to. You, however, seemed unfazed, your confident smirk never wavering.

“May our paths cross once more,” you said with a warm smile, taking a step back and waving.

Jay watched you disappear into the night, your words echoing in his mind. He hoped fervently that this wouldn't be the last time he saw you.

심재윤 ── SIM JAEYUN.

Amidst the cacophony of angry voices clashing like a storm, your blood boiled at the pure entitlement of the people standing before you. You'd barely managed to set your bag down on the leather couch of the recording studio you had waited weeks to finally use when the door burst open, revealing the breathless mess of a manager responsible for some boy group you couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge. He claimed that there had been an error in the schedule for the room, that it was supposedly meant to be occupied by his group—never mind the fact that your name had been very clearly stated in the timesheet for weeks.

The sour taste on your tongue intensified as soon as you noticed a group of six boys hesitantly approaching the tense situation, led by a younger-looking boy with almost cartoonishly big doe eyes. His brows furrowed as he tried to decipher the not-so-clean words being exchanged between both teams. Letting your own manager handle the mess, you remained seated on the couch with your arms folded over your chest, hoping you'd be compensated for the reserved time you'd lost to this fiasco, though you were almost certain you wouldn't be.

Somehow maneuvering themselves around the strife, the newcomers entered the recording room, only to awkwardly stand before you as if expecting you to explain the situation. Despite your clear distaste, you let your hands fall limply onto your lap with a frustrated sigh.

"I reserved this room for today weeks ago," you said, the acidity in your tone unmistakable. None of the boys seemed too bothered by it as they continued to watch you intently. "Your manager, however, decided it would be a good idea to waste everyone's time by claiming there must have been some kind of oversight since apparently he also reserved this exact time for you guys."

"Uh, I think there might have really been a misunderstanding since we were also set to record here," Doe-Eyes responded quickly, glancing back towards his manager anxiously as if unsure of his own words. You couldn't help but scoff and roll your eyes.

Pulling your phone out of your back pocket, you didn't try to hide the incredulous shake of your head. Once you found the confirmation email you’d received upon booking the studio, you turned your screen so that all six boys could read. “Unless you also have an email similar to this— which, by the way, your manager has failed to show us instead of calling his boss—then I don’t think there’s really any room to call this a ‘misunderstanding’.”

Almost immediately, Doe-Eyes pulled his own phone out of the pocket of his hoodie, hurriedly scrolling through it while taking a seat a little further down the same couch you'd been glued to for the past twenty minutes. The rest of the members didn’t seem to have anything else to say as they either pursed their lips awkwardly or whispered amongst themselves, their furrowed brows signaling their own concerns about what it would mean for them if you were to keep the studio. And although you were confident that you and your team had done everything right, you were barely able to suppress your own fear of being left high and dry. It wasn’t uncommon for solo artists such as yourself to have no other alternative than to fight tooth and nail for fair treatment in an industry with a clear preference for boy groups like the ones present at the moment—and the company you were currently working for was really no different, as evidenced by the infuriating stories shared by the painfully sparse number of solo artists you’d met in this very building.

Then, as if suddenly remembering something, Doe-Eyes whipped his head around as though looking for someone. “Where’s Jake?”

The other members uselessly copied their friend’s action, shrugging silently. “I think he was talking with his mom on the phone when we left, but he said he wouldn’t be too long.”

Almost as if the act of voicing his name could summon him, a very disheveled seventh boy skidded to a halt behind the ongoing commotion taking place right outside the studio. His eyes widened in bewilderment as he processed the admittedly rare scene unfolding before him. His attention quickly shifted to the group of idols crowding the already confined space as one of the members waved at him to join them, a silent command that didn’t need to be repeated as he squeezed his way inside. Once he made it past the door, he hunched over breathlessly, a string of gibberish pouring out of his mouth as he tried to explain his tardiness—not a single word of it being even remotely comprehensible to you.

Ultimately, the boy’s excuses didn’t matter as everyone’s attention was drawn to the familiar authoritative figure who finally made his appearance (as requested by the boys’ manager) to solve the ridiculous dilemma, the typical severe expression etched onto his face. You tried to brush aside your rising anxiety to no avail, your leg subconsciously bouncing up and down.

While your mind raced with worst-case scenarios, Jake—the boy who’d just arrived—found himself stilled by the mere sight of you. Encircled by a heavenly bubble that seemed to drown out his surroundings, he found himself captivated by the worry tainting what he was positive would otherwise be the most heart-mangling pair of eyes he’d ever seen. Even with your entire essence emanating a mixture of irritation and anxiety, Jake was sure his eyes would never find anything or anyone that could compare to the profoundness of your beauty. He almost questioned if you were real, or if he had lost his sanity to a sweet hallucination, though he quickly pushed the idea out of his mind for fear of losing sight of you.

“Hi.” It was all that Jake could muster, hoping his heart wouldn’t suddenly stop when your weary eyes landed on him. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

Several conflicting emotions passed through your face as you tried to make sense of the unexpected contrast between the serious situation and his dazed expression. In the end, all you could do was scoff nastily at his lack of ability to read the room, a reaction that still made Jake feel as though he could levitate since your simple acknowledgment of his existence was enough for him to obsess over for the rest of his lifetime.

The sight of the newcomer was almost ridiculous as you shifted in your seat almost uncomfortably, unable to understand what could possibly be going through his mind.

“Okay, let’s do this.” The authoritarian voice of your superior was enough to drag your attention away from the oddity of this boy. “Since Enhypen’s comeback is set at a sooner date, I suggest Y/N allow them to use the room first. I’ll be sure to postpone the reservations of the people meant to come here today or tomorrow. That is my final say on the matter.”

He raised his hand in a stern manner the moment he noticed you quickly jumping to your feet to argue, immediately shutting you up as your lips curled into a disgruntled snarl. Even though a part of you had predicted this outcome, you still couldn’t believe it as your eyes found the familiar pair belonging to your exhausted manager.

Since it was clear that you and your team had no other option but to pack up what little had been set up before this whole fiasco began, you begrudgingly snatched your bag to sling over your shoulder—though not before scowling in the boys’ direction, causing them to wince back. Except for Jake, who annoyingly remained in his spot, smiling stupidly at you.

Hours after being kicked out of your own appointment, you found yourself sitting alone under the shade of a large tree at a nearby park. Bitterness still possessed your heart despite coming here to calm yourself in the comforting alternative universe that only seemed to exist in this very spot, usually waiting for your return whenever life took a rough turn. Every other time, the gentle kisses of the wind against your skin, the delicious warmth that dwelled just under the surface of the ground, or the simple serenity that washed over your troubled mind as you listened to the natural melody of small animals and children playing would immediately comfort you. However, your little piece of paradise did not spare any mercy for you today. The chilly wind nipped at your reddened cheeks and nose, the ground beneath you was still moist from the light rain of the previous day, and all you could hear were the exhaustive sounds of distant traffic and the robotic voices of business people on their phones. Your little piece of paradise, your alternative universe hidden in plain sight, had become distressingly bleak.

You were just about to abandon your spot, the disappointment becoming overwhelming to the point of blurring your vision with unshed tears, when the sound of cautious footsteps from behind alerted you. Breath catching in your throat at the thought of what could possibly happen, you hoped whoever was approaching would just walk past and prove you to be foolishly paranoid.

“You hide well, Y/N.”

The sinister words unmistakably belonging to a man hung in the air, making you consider breaking into a run—or perhaps attempting to kick him in the knees to temporarily incapacitate him and give you more time to escape. A million thoughts stormed through your head as your heartbeat picked up.

“I’m sorry about what happened with the studio.” The specificity of the man’s apology made you pause. You noted that he had stopped moving, evidently standing just a foot or two away from you. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to turn around. “After you and your team left, I was finally told what went down, and I felt guilty. Obviously, you have every right to be upset considering your name was the only one that appeared to be scheduled.”

Only a moment passed before the owner of the mysterious voice stood before you, sporting a shy smile while holding a brown paper bag close to his chest. It was the boy who had arrived late to the recording session, the one with the dazed look in his eyes — the same one still present as he looked down at your sitting figure. His presence reignited the smoldering anger you’d managed to suppress over the past few hours. You didn't bother holding back the immediate glare directed at him, a glare that would have made anyone else shrink back. But he seemed unfazed, his smile only growing into a full, boyish grin that vaguely reminded you of a Golden Retriever, with an infectious warmth that was hard to ignore.

He stood there, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the bag crinkling slightly in his grip. His tousled hair caught the last rays of the setting sun, creating a halo effect around his head that softened his features. Despite your irritation, you couldn't help but notice the genuine innocence in his eyes, as if he truly had no intention of causing any harm — deep down, you were well aware that your anger was misdirected, though your pride didn’t let you back down.

“Anyway, I'm really sorry about earlier," he repeated, his voice gentle and sincere. "I know things got messed up, and it wasn’t fair to you."

The softness of his tone momentarily disarmed you, but you quickly remembered the frustration of being pushed aside. You folded your arms across your chest, maintaining your steely gaze. "It's not your fault, but that doesn't make it any less infuriating," you replied curtly, though a part of you felt a pang of guilt for being so harsh.

He nodded, understanding. "I get that. I really do. That's why I wanted to apologize properly." He held out the bag towards you, his eyes pleading for you to accept his peace offering.

You hesitated, your curiosity piqued despite yourself. Slowly, you reached for the bag, feeling the crinkle of the paper beneath your fingers. Peeking inside, you were met with a colorful assortment of convenience store sweets and chips. The sight was so unexpected that it momentarily broke through your anger, leaving you both surprised and amused.

“Hold on, what is this?” you asked, incredulous, pulling out a pack of sour candies and a bag of your favorite potato chips.

He lifted a shoulder into a half shrug, the motion causing his tousled hair to fall slightly over his forehead. A dark blush tinted the tips of his ears, standing out starkly against his pale skin. “I wasn’t really sure what you might like, so I got everything.”

You couldn't help but let out a disbelieving chuckle. The gesture was absurdly extravagant, almost comical, but undeniably thoughtful. Your gaze shifted from the bag to his face, taking in the earnestness in his eyes. The softness of his brown eyes, filled with a mix of anxiety and hope, caught you off guard. Despite the frustration and anger still simmering within you, the sincerity of his actions tugged at your heartstrings.

The gesture was ridiculous, you decided. But as your eyes finally locked with the softness of his brown ones, you couldn’t seem to ignore the swelling in your chest. The warmth of his gaze, combined with the blush that refused to leave his ears, chipped away at your resolve. A smile forced its way onto your lips despite your desire to maintain the angry mask.

“Well, I guess it’s a start,” you conceded, the corners of your mouth curling up despite your best efforts to remain stern.

He exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized he was holding, relief washing over his features. “I’m really sorry about today. It wasn’t fair to you, and I wanted to make it right, even if just a little.”

You sighed, feeling some of the tension leave your shoulders. “It’s not your fault. It’s just... this industry, you know?”

He nodded, understanding evident in his eyes. “Yeah, I get it. It can be tough. But hey, at least you’ve got some snacks now.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, the sound lightening the oppressive atmosphere that had settled around you. “True. Thanks for that.”

He grinned, the boyish smile returning and making him look even more endearing as he took a seat in front of you. “Anytime.”

As the two of you continued to talk, the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the park. The earlier tension seemed to dissipate, replaced by a tentative camaraderie that hinted at the possibility of something more. For the first time that day, you felt a glimmer of hope that things might just turn out okay.

박성훈 ── PARK SUNGHOON.

Under the soft glow of city lights and the gentle hum of midnight traffic, Sunghoon stood apprehensively at the entrance of a seemingly lavish apartment complex. The crumpled invitation from Jake was like a heavy weight in his pocket. An internal turmoil raged within him — whether to keep his promise to his friend and attend the gathering or to retreat to the comforting solitude of his bedroom. The flurry of potential outcomes made his head spin, leaving him frozen in place. He couldn’t help but notice the curious glances from the woman behind the front desk, her occasional head tilt suggesting she was trying to figure out what he was doing there, even as she returned her focus to her laptop.

Social gatherings had stopped being Sunghoon’s forte somewhere along the transition from his teenage years to his recent adulthood. Normally, he would have turned down Jake’s invitation without a second thought. But his mother’s worried voice echoed in his mind from their recent phone call, her concern palpable. “You used to have me worried sick every single night when you would go out to all these parties, and now you have me worried sick every night you tell me you’d rather isolate yourself in your room, love.”

Taking a deep breath, Sunghoon willed himself to move forward. The memory of his mother’s concern pushed him to break free from his self-imposed isolation. He finally pressed the buzzer, his heart racing. When the door clicked open, he stepped inside, feeling the unexpected warmth of the building wrap around him in a soothing manner. He sent Jake a quick text, letting him know he would be up in a minute or two.

The elevator ride to the top floor felt interminable, each second stretching out with mounting anxiety. When the doors slid open, he was met with Jake’s bright smile and slightly unfocused eyes. “You made it!” Jake exclaimed, pulling him into a quick hug. Sunghoon managed a smile, the familiar comfort of his currently tipsy friend easing some of his nerves.

As they walked down the corridor towards your apartment, Jake’s enthusiastic chatter filled the air. He rattled on about everyone who’d made it, the music, the food, and all the games he’d missed. Sunghoon tried to absorb some of his friend’s excitement, though part of him still longed to retreat to the safety of his room. The door to your apartment was slightly ajar, and lively music and intoxicated laughter spilled out into the hallway.

Inside, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, with a soft, ambient glow from various lamps and candles. Sunghoon scanned the room, taking in the mix of vaguely familiar and unfamiliar faces. He was pleased to find only a small group present, just as Jake had promised. His eyes finally landed on you, who effortlessly commanded the room’s attention with a level of self-assurance Sunghoon could only yearn to achieve. As if sensing his eyes, you glanced in his direction, finally taking notice of their arrival before making your way over, a welcoming smile on your face that had Sunghoon’s stomach performing pirouettes.

“Jake, you’re back!” You cheered tipsily before focusing on the visibly anxious new guest, bowing as a polite greeting — an action immediately returned. “Is this the friend you told me about? Park Sunghoon?”

The way Sunghoon’s name rolled off your tongue with such sweetness had him reeling. Jake responded for him with an animated nod, slinging his arm around his friend’s shoulder despite being shorter.

“I’m very happy you were able to make it, Sunghoon!” You giggled lightly — a heavenly melody that tugged at Sunghoon’s erratic heart. “Please make yourself at home. There’s food and drinks over there,” you added, gesturing to a table laden with various treats.

As the evening progressed, Sunghoon found himself slowly relaxing, the initial tension easing away. Although he’d made the conscious decision not to consume any alcohol so that he would still be able to bring Jake and himself back home safely, he joined in the laughter, engaged in conversations with other idols, and sampled some of the food. Despite his initial reluctance, Sunghoon was beginning to enjoy himself.

During a lull in the conversations, Sunghoon found himself standing alone on the balcony, looking out over the city lights. The cool night air was a welcome respite from the warmth inside, and he took a moment to breathe deeply, savoring the tranquility. However, his head was tormented by thoughts of you as he almost obsessively replayed a mental film he’d recorded of you throughout the night, capturing candid scenes of you leaning against the wall while talking to one of your guests, sipping your drink between bursts of laughter, engaging in an impromptu dance competition with Jake, and the times he’d catch you watching him from the opposite side of the room with an unreadable expression before looking away timidly. These were memories he hoped to hold close to his heart even if the two of you never crossed paths again after this night. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t hear you approach until you stood beside him.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” You spoke softly, eyes fixed on the glittering skyline. Sunghoon nodded, feeling an electrifying jolt rush through his veins at the unexpectedness of your company, followed by a strange sense of calm that soothed the fresh spike of his anxiety. The two of you stood in comfortable silence for a while — you simply enjoying the view, and him almost hearing the soft whirring of his mental camera as it recorded the moment for him to save.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” you eventually said, turning to face Sunghoon. There was something in your twinkling gaze that made Sunghoon’s heart skip a beat, an unspoken connection passing between you both.

“Me too,” Sunghoon replied, surprised to realize he meant it. As the two of you continued to talk, an unexpected warmth blossomed in his chest, sensing the creation of an unbreakable red thread that linked you to him. It was both thrilling and terrifying. For the first time in a long while, Sunghoon felt as though he was exactly where he was meant to be.

As the night wore on, the two of you found yourselves drifting away from the main party, your conversation deepening with each passing minute. You discovered shared interests and experiences, revealing parts of yourselves neither were usually eager to share with others. Sunghoon was captivated by the stories of your early days in the industry, the struggles and triumphs that mirrored his own journey.

There was a moment when the laughter died down, and the air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken words that neither of you was brave enough to voice out loud but both seemed to understand. Sunghoon looked into your eyes and felt a magnetic pull, an undeniable connection that made his heart race. He wondered if you felt it too, this strange and exhilarating sensation that was both new and familiar.

You broke the silence, voice soft and sincere. “You know, I’ve been where you are now. The isolation, the doubt…it can be overwhelming. But sometimes reaching out, even if it’s just for a night, can make all the difference. So I’m really glad you’re here tonight.”

Sunghoon nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “I didn’t expect to feel this way tonight,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, a warm and understanding expression that made Sunghoon’s heart flutter. “Neither did I,” you replied. “But I’m glad we both took the chance.”

The city lights continued to sparkle below you both, a silent witness to the beginning of something new. As the night drew to a close, Sunghoon knew that this had been more than just an ordinary gathering. It was the start of a bond that held the promise of something deeper, something that could change both of your lives forever.

김선우 ── KIM SEONWOO.

As the limousine pulled up to the grand entrance of the high-fashion show, Sunoo took a deep breath, steeling himself for the evening ahead. Being a part of a rapidly rising KPOP group, he was accustomed to the spotlight, but attending this event alone felt different. The opulent venue buzzed with the energy of the fashion elite, cameras flashing and voices blending into a hum of anticipation. 

Stepping out onto the red carpet, Sunoo was immediately enveloped by the dazzling lights and the flurry of activity. He straightened his impeccably tailored suit, aware of every eye on him. Yet, despite the familiar pressure, there was a unique thrill in the air tonight. As he prepared himself to move forward, his eyes were immediately drawn to a striking figure across from him — another idol, unknown to him, yet governing everyone’s attention with an effortless grace.

You strolled down the velvet red carpet, pausing every few steps to allow the photographers to capture the stunning design adorning your figure, which had been made especially for you. Your movements were fluid, each step exuding confidence and natural charm. As the ambassador for a rival brand, an impeccable aura of sophistication rolled off your skin with an ease that captivated Sunoo in an instant. The way the rays of the setting sun seemed to favor you, casting a perfect golden glow on your flawless features, made it impossible to look away.

Sunoo’s trance was disrupted by the heavy hand of the security guard who had kindly opened the limousine door a moment prior, silently urging him to make haste before the next celebrity arrived. He quickly gathered himself, offering a polite nod to the guard before making his way down the carpet. By the time Sunoo returned his gaze to where your mysterious essence had stood, he was surprised to find you already inside, leaving behind an air of secrecy that lingered in Sunoo’s mind.

Entering the grand hall, Sunoo was greeted by a sea of fashion icons, designers, and celebrities from all around the world mingling under the shimmering chandeliers. The atmosphere was electric, filled with the buzz of conversations and the clinking of champagne glasses. Yet, amidst the glamorous chaos, Sunoo’s thoughts kept drifting back to the enigmatic memory of you.

He navigated through the crowd, exchanging polite greetings and smiles, but his mind was elsewhere. The brief glimpse he had caught of you had sparked a curiosity he couldn’t shake as he found himself subconsciously searching for you. Who are you? What is your story? The questions swirled in Sunoo’s mind, adding a layer of intrigue to the already dazzling event.

As Sunoo settled into his seat, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. The runway came to life with models showcasing the latest collections, each piece more stunning than the last. But even as the fashion show unfolded before him, Sunoo found his eyes wandering to the rows opposite him, searching for that familiar face.

And then, there you were. You were seated just a few rows away, attention fixed on the runway. Sunoo took the opportunity to observe you more closely, noting the confident way you carried yourself, the subtle elegance in your every movement. There was something magnetic about you, a presence that drew Sunoo in and refused to let go.

The fashion show progressed, each segment more captivating than the last, but for Sunoo, the true highlight was the possibility of a single minute with you. As the final model strutted down the runway and the audience erupted into applause, Sunoo knew he had to find a way to introduce himself. This night, under the dazzling lights of the fashion elite, gave him the unmistakable sensation that it might mark the beginning of something extraordinary — such a thing being yourself.

Following the fashion show, Sunoo took a moment to collect himself. The applause gradually subsided, and the room buzzed with excited chatter as attendees began to mingle and move toward the reception area. Sunoo’s heart raced with a mix of anticipation and nerves as he scanned the crowd, seeking another glimpse of you.

The hall was now a swirl of elegant gowns, tailored suits, and sparkling jewelry, with everyone engaged in animated conversations regarding the slew of unique designs they’d just witnessed. Sunoo made his way through the throng, offering polite smiles and hasty bows while his thoughts remained fixated on you. He couldn’t shake the sense of urgency, the need to introduce himself and learn about you who had so effortlessly stolen his sanity.

As he approached the bar, Sunoo finally spotted you standing near a cluster of fashion executives and designers. You were engrossed in conversation, your laughter echoing like a melody above the hum of the crowd. Sunoo hesitated for a moment, gathering his courage before making his way toward you.

Just as he was about to reach you, a voice called out his name. He turned to see his brand’s creative director, a smile on her face as she beckoned him over. Sunoo’s heart sank slightly, but he knew that ignoring her was not an option. With a polite bow, he approached her, engaging in a brief yet lively discussion about the evening’s show and their brand’s latest collection.

As soon as the conversation reached its natural end, Sunoo didn’t waste a second to glance back to where you had been, only to find you had moved on. Panic set in, though he took a deep breath, determined not to let the opportunity slip away. He began to weave through the crowd once more, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

Finally, he spotted you near the entrance to a quieter lounge area, a serene space with plush seating and soft lighting. Sunoo made his way over, his steps quickening as he neared you. He paused just a few feet away, taking yet another deep breath to steady his nerves.

“Excuse me,” Sunoo said, his voice somehow calm yet tinged with an anticipation you didn’t miss. You turned to face him, your eyes meeting his with a curious, welcoming gaze that weakened his knees. “I couldn’t help but notice you during the show. I’m Sunoo, from Enhypen. It is a true honor to meet you.”

A smile spread across your face, genuine and warm. “Hello, Sunoo. I am Y/N from SM Entertainment. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

The conversation flowed easily from there, a mix of introductions, shared experiences, and mutual admiration for the evening’s fashion showcase. As the night wore on, the initial spark of intense curiosity between you grew into a deeper attachment. The surrounding chatter and movement seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of conversation and laughter.

By the time the evening came to an end, Sunoo knew that the unignorable sense of tonight marking a thrilling new beginning had been correct. As you exchanged contact information and made plans to meet again, there was an unspoken understanding that this thread that linked the two of you, born under the dazzling lights of the fashion elite, held the promise of something truly special.

양정원 ── YANG JUNGWON.

It had been an excruciatingly long time since Jungwon had danced purely for the joy of it, even if he kept this yearning to himself. He was well-aware of the sacrifices demanded by his career when he first started as a trainee, and he would make that commitment again without hesitation. Yet, the craving for dance, like a dormant ember, flared up intermittently, refusing to be extinguished by the relentless demands of his life.

At the moment, Jungwon felt an urgent need to escape, a desperate desire to retreat into solitude where he could breathe without the relentless pressure of work bearing down on him. The large headphones that had pressed into his ears for the duration of the recording session now hung around his neck, heavy with the weight of his mounting frustration. As he watched the producing team, whom he had come to know through each Enhypen album, huddled in private discussion, he felt increasingly isolated. The mics were off, their muted voices blending into an unwelcoming silence that amplified his sense of failure. He had repeated the same lines over and over since he first entered, unable to capture the performance they sought. It was baffling why something that should be simple had become so exasperatingly complex.

After what felt like an eternity, the producers nodded curtly at each other, signaling their agreement. They turned to Jungwon through the subtly tinted glass, their faces betraying a hint of resignation.

“Jungwon,” one of them sighed into the microphone, the voice slightly distorted as it came through the speakers. “I think we should try again next Monday. Please take this time to rest.”

Disappointment pierced through him like a cold, sharp blade. He slumped his shoulders, his gaze dropping to the floor as he gave a solemn nod. Swiftly, he removed his headphones and gathered his belongings. The room was filled with pitiful smiles from the team, but Jungwon was too eager to escape to notice. The confined space was stifling, and he was desperate for freedom. As he trudged down the nearly vacant corridors of the company building, his frustration simmered, bubbling up like molten lava, searing through him with each step.

He searched his mind for a place where he could be alone. Going home was not an option with half his members there, their typical boisterousness far from the sanctuary he craved. Restaurants and coffee shops were possibilities, but he lacked the appetite for anything. And then, as if the universe had taken pity on him, memories of hours spent dancing alone in the company’s dance rooms flooded his mind. It was enough to redirect his aimless wanderings. He made a beeline for the elevator, his steps quickening as excitement surged through him, a welcome escape from the stifling environment. He reveled in the knowledge that no one would question his whereabouts, believing him to still be at the recording booth.

With his heart pounding a rhythm of genuine elation, everything around him blurred into insignificance as he focused solely on his destination. The seconds stretched painfully as he awaited the elevator doors to open. The tip of his tongue seemed to taste the sweet promise of freedom as he finally reached the end of the hall, where the rarely used dance room stood, its door a familiar friend in his moment of need.

Had Jungwon not been so absorbed in his whirlwind of emotions, he might have noticed the soft strains of music emanating from within. Instead, he burst into the room, breathless, only to find himself frozen by the sight before him. There, bathed in the warm, gentle light, was you—dancing with a grace that seemed to defy the ordinary.

You were lost in your world, every movement flowing effortlessly with the tender rhythm of the music. There were no goals to reach, no steps to follow—just a pure expression of emotion that dripped from your every move. You danced as if the weight of the world had melted away, a blissful freedom that Jungwon hadn’t felt in ages. Your dance was a vivid reminder of what it was meant to be before fame had ever touched his life.

To Jungwon, who stood silently by the door, watching in awe, you were completely absorbed in your own realm. The peaceful, contented look on your face made it clear that you were in a moment of serene solitude. He tried to retreat quietly, but stumbled over his own feet, causing you to stop abruptly and turn toward him with wide, startled eyes.

In that instant, the world seemed to collapse around you both, leaving only the connection between your eyes and his. The silence stretched, laden with awkwardness, and you were the first to look away. Jungwon’s heart sank, wishing he could lose himself in your eyes forever.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your voice tentative. “I was just finishing up. I’ll get my stuff and leave.”

The last thing Jungwon wanted was for you to leave in such a rush. He was overwhelmed by conflicting emotions—entranced, confused, dazed, distressed—but the most powerful feeling was the undeniable pull toward you. You, who had suddenly appeared in his world, who moved with effortless grace like a bird in flight, and who had given him the briefest of smiles that seemed to halt his heartbeat. You were an enigma he felt destined to connect with, even if only for a fleeting moment.

Before you could slip past him, Jungwon found himself instinctively reaching out, his hand landing gently on your shoulder. The contact elicited soft gasps of surprise from both of you. His eyes locked onto yours, desperately trying to savor every detail of your features. He realized there might never be enough time to fully appreciate your beauty, but all he wanted was a single minute to bask in your presence. He was acutely aware of his own vulnerability as the desire to remain near you replaced his previous yearning for solitude.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen someone dance the way you just did,” he said, his voice barely audible. The blush that colored your cheeks was all the confirmation he needed that you heard him.

“Oh,” you blinked, caught off guard. “Thank you.”

“If you’re not busy,” Jungwon continued, though he was unsure of where his words would lead, “please stay.”

You studied his face, searching for sincerity and intent. Perhaps it was the raw desperation in his brown eyes or the electric tingle of his touch that convinced you. Whatever it was, you decided to stay, offering him a shy but genuine smile. Your heart raced as you noticed the dimples that appeared on his cheeks, a sign of his radiant smile.

And so you stayed. What began as a moment stretched into hours, then weeks, and eventually a lifetime. In that dance room, amidst the echoing melodies and fleeting moments, something truly extraordinary was born.

西村 力 ── NISHIMURA RIKI.

In the bustling expanse of the airport lounge, the soft hum of conversations mingled with the distant announcements of flight departures provided a backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts in Ni-ki’s mind. Seated amongst  his fellow members, sought a fleeting moment of tranquility before their flight to Tokyo, the next stop on their concert tour. From such a young age, normalcy had been a distant concept, eclipsed by the relentless rush of performances and public appearances that left little room for peaceful introspection. The early morning departure had left them all groggy, their energy sapped by the unforgiving schedule that defined their lives.

Ni-ki leaned back in his seat, his eyes closing as he sought to capture a fleeting sense of peace amidst the chaos. The lounge, a hive of activity, was populated with travelers—some dozing off in their seats, others engrossed in their devices, and a few engaged in low murmurs of conversation. The atmosphere was a curious blend of anticipation and exhaustion, a microcosm of the frenetic life Ni-ki had come to know so well.

When Ni-ki opened his eyes, his gaze drifted across the room, taking in the varied faces of fellow travelers. His eyes settled on a vaguely recognizable group of young idols seated across the lounge, their presence unmistakable even amid the sea of people. Your group, though from a different agency, radiated a camaraderie and vibrant energy that felt oddly familiar. Among them, you stood out—a figure of serene poise amidst the lively chatter of your companions.

Ni-ki’s attention was drawn to you, his curiosity piqued by the quiet aura you exuded. There was a subtle grace in your demeanor that captivated him. You sat with large headphones covering your ears, occasionally glancing around the lounge as if seeking a moment of solitude amidst the bustling environment. Your hair fell gently over your eyes as you absentmindedly adjusted your oversized hoodie, a small, seemingly insignificant action that made you appear both approachable and endearingly shy.

Minutes stretched into an hour as you and Ni-ki waited for your respective flights. While his group members were absorbed in their own activities—some napping, others lost in games or music—Ni-ki found himself increasingly drawn to you. There was something magnetic about your presence, an unspoken allure that made his heart race each time your eyes briefly met. The pull he felt was inexplicable yet undeniable.

You possessed an effortless charm, a quiet confidence that set you apart from the crowd. Ni-ki found himself imagining what your voice might sound like, wondering what thoughts occupied your mind, and what music you might be listening to—all while grappling with his own doubts and shyness that held him back from approaching you. The mystery surrounding you only deepened Ni-ki’s fascination, turning mere curiosity into a profound longing to know more.

Across the lounge, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. At first, you thought it was a trick of your imagination, but the sensation persisted. Your sensitivity to the energy around you made Ni-ki’s gaze feel like a gentle but persistent tug. Despite your attempts to focus on your group’s animated conversation, your thoughts kept drifting back to the boy who seemed so captivated by you. You wondered what had caught his attention—was it your appearance? Clad in an oversized hoodie and leggings, with minimal makeup, you certainly didn't stand out in the traditional sense. Or was it your demeanor? You had done little more than sit quietly, attempting to conserve your energy and maintain a reserved presence. Though outwardly calm, your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, adding to the enigma Ni-ki seemed drawn to.

Finally, a boarding announcement for a flight to Osaka broke Ni-ki’s reverie. He watched as your group began to gather their belongings, preparing to leave. A pang of disappointment struck him, realizing that his chance to approach you and strike up a conversation was slipping away. Just as he was about to redirect his attention back to his own group in a silent acceptance of defeat, he noticed you had lingered behind, your eyes meeting his for a brief, charged moment.

In that fleeting exchange, there was an unspoken connection, a shared understanding that transcended the chaos surrounding you both. You offered a small, almost shy smile before rejoining your group, leaving Ni-ki with a lingering sense of anticipation and curiosity. The way your eyes had held his, as if conveying a silent message, made his heart flutter with a strange, exhilarating hope.

As you followed your group to the boarding gate, you couldn't shake the feeling of Ni-ki’s eyes lingering on you. It was both thrilling and unnerving, sparking a curiosity of your own. In the subtlest way possible, you stole one last glance over your shoulder, finding Ni-ki still watching with an intensity that made your heart race. You smiled to yourself, wondering if fate might bring the two of you together again in the near future.

As you and your group disappeared through the boarding gate, Ni-ki was left contemplating the possibility of your paths crossing again—perhaps amidst the vibrant streets of Tokyo or in the backstage corridors of a concert venue. The brief interaction had left an indelible mark on him, a spark that refused to be extinguished by the routine of his life. Settling back into his seat, Ni-ki’s thoughts drifted back to you, imagining potential conversations, shared laughter, and the possibility of a burgeoning friendship—or hopefully something more—that could blossom in the most unexpected of places.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ My permanent taglist is open!

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📷 STILL FRAMES ( stray kids )

❛ After fainting during a photography class outing, you're tenderly cared for by a seemingly cold classmate, Seungmin, leading to an unexpected and heartwarming connection between the two of you.

𝐤𝐢𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 30 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This piece was written and completed a few months ago, but I recently found it and decided to share it with you guys! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Descriptions of being overheated, anxiety, and fainting, let me know if I missed anything!

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

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The summer sun blazed with an intensity that bordered on cruelty, its golden rays casting a relentless furnace upon the cityscape. The air shimmered with the heat, every street and alley seemingly wincing under the oppressive glare. The heavens above were a fierce, unyielding expanse of cerulean, devoid of mercy or shade.

Amidst this searing trial, you navigated the urban labyrinth, your every step a testament to perseverance. Your digital camera, a faithful companion clutched in your hand, was your shield against the unrelenting heat. It was your instrument for capturing moments of beauty amid the starkness of summer’s tyranny.

As you trailed behind your classmates, each one a silhouette against the blistering backdrop, your gaze flitted with restless anticipation. You wandered through the city streets, your eyes seeking fragments of inspiration to breathe life into your assignment. The buildings rose around you like silent, stoic sentinels, their facades glistening with a harsh, metallic sheen. In the shimmering distance, you hoped for the elusive spark that would transform the mundane into something extraordinary.

The chatter of your classmates had long faded into a mere whisper, a distant hum that barely registered in the periphery of your consciousness. Conversations ebbed and flowed like an unremarkable current, a symphony of voices blending into a soft, indistinguishable murmur. Yet, this isolation was not an anomaly but a chosen retreat, a familiar haven you embraced with quiet contentment.

Surrounded by the bustling dynamics of camaraderie and friendship, you stood apart, an island of introspection amidst a sea of social engagement. It wasn't that you were unfriendly or aloof; your laughter often mingled with theirs, your voice joining the chorus of shared jokes and light-hearted banter before and after the structured rhythm of class. But when the subject turned to the art that captivated your soul, a transformation occurred.

Photography, to you, was not just a hobby but a profound and passionate pursuit. It demanded your full attention, a devotion that bordered on reverence. Your camera was not merely a tool but an extension of your vision, a conduit through which you sought to capture the world’s hidden beauty. The play of light and shadow, the fleeting expressions on faces, the intricate details of everyday objects—all of these were fragments of a larger, more intricate tapestry that you sought to weave with each click of the shutter.

In those moments, the world around you faded into soft focus, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your art. The bonds of friendship, though cherished, were momentarily set aside, replaced by a singular concentration that sharpened your senses and heightened your awareness. This solitary journey through the realm of photography was your sanctuary, a place where you found solace and inspiration in equal measure.

The only other person in this class who might share your penchant for solitude was Kim Seungmin. He, too, seemed to navigate the world with an air of quiet detachment. Yet, there were differences in how each of you manifested this introversion. While you made a concerted effort to connect with those around you—engaging in brief conversations and sharing moments of camaraderie when class was not in session—Seungmin was an enigma, a shadow that flitted away the moment the lecture ended.

Seungmin's presence in the classroom was a paradox of visibility and invisibility. He was always the first to arrive, slipping into the room with the quiet grace of dawn's first light. Despite his punctuality, he maintained a palpable distance from the rest of the group, an invisible barrier that set him apart. His demeanor, while not unfriendly, exuded a clear message of preference for solitude.

During the lulls and intermissions, when the classroom would usually be filled with animated discussions and the laughter of budding friendships, Seungmin could be found in a corner, absorbed in his own world. His fingers danced nimbly over his camera, adjusting settings, capturing candid moments, or meticulously reviewing his shots. At other times, he would be engrossed in his phone, the screen's glow reflecting the deep concentration etched on his face.

To you, Seungmin was a mystery, a puzzle wrapped in layers of quiet introspection. There was a certain allure in his aloofness, a silent invitation to unravel the story behind his reserved exterior. Yet, you never dared to cross the unspoken boundary that he had set. His solitary nature, so akin to your own, commanded a respect that you were unwilling to breach.

Seungmin remained a figure of curiosity, a fellow traveler on the path of photographic artistry who chose a parallel yet distinctly separate route. His quiet presence was a reminder of the myriad ways one could navigate the delicate dance between isolation and connection.

Despite his reserved and enigmatic demeanor, Seungmin possessed a rare and extraordinary talent for photography. His artistry behind the lens was nothing short of breathtaking, a fact that did not go unnoticed by anyone, least of all the professor. At the conclusion of each class, a ritual unfolded: the professor would meticulously review everyone's photographs, sifting through the myriad of images to select the ones that stood out the most. Without fail, Seungmin's work consistently earned a place among the top five, a testament to his remarkable skill.

Each of Seungmin's photographs was a revelation, an abstract masterpiece that captured the world through a uniquely creative lens. His ability to see beyond the ordinary and delve into the depths of the abstract added a layer of profound beauty to his images. Where others might see a simple street scene or a mundane object, Seungmin uncovered hidden dimensions and intricate patterns, transforming the mundane into the extraordinary.

His compositions were a symphony of light and shadow, each frame meticulously crafted to evoke emotion and provoke thought. There was an unmistakable depth to his work, a silent narrative that spoke volumes without uttering a single word. The interplay of colors, the juxtaposition of textures, and the harmony of forms all coalesced into visual poetry, each photograph a verse in the grand tapestry of his artistic vision.

The professor, a seasoned connoisseur of photographic art, often marveled at Seungmin's ability to convey such profound beauty through his images. His praise, though sparing, was always effusive when it came to Seungmin's work. "A true artist," he would often muse, holding up one of Seungmin's photos for the class to admire. "His eye for detail and his innovative approach are truly remarkable."

Seungmin's talent was unmistakable, a beacon of brilliance that shone through the veil of his quiet, self-imposed solitude. Each photograph was a testament to his exceptional ability to capture the essence of the world around him, a gift that set him apart and elevated him to the ranks of the truly gifted. In his hands, the camera became not just a tool but a portal to a realm of infinite beauty and wonder.

The dryness in your mouth abruptly pulled you from the intricate web of thoughts weaving around your enigmatic classmate, who now lingered at the back of the group, his camera poised to capture yet another fleeting moment. The parched sensation nagged at you, growing more insistent with each passing second. You reluctantly tore your gaze away from Seungmin, reaching into your backpack in search of your water bottle.

As your fingers fumbled through the contents of your bag, your eyes remained vigilant, scanning your surroundings to ensure you wouldn’t stumble over any unexpected obstacles. The bustling city around you was a blur of movement and color, but you couldn’t afford to let your guard down, not even for a moment.

Finally, your hand closed around the cool plastic of your water bottle. Relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. Your heart skipped a beat when you unscrewed the cap and peered inside, only to find a single, solitary sip left. The realization that your meager supply of water was almost depleted sent a ripple of anxiety through your chest. The class was far from over, and the sweltering heat showed no signs of relenting.

A wave of apprehension washed over you, prickling at your chest like tiny, invisible needles. You finished the last sip, the tepid water doing little to quench your thirst, and tried to steady your racing thoughts. With a shaky breath, you reassured yourself that you could endure the remaining time. Surely, there would be a place nearby where you could refill your bottle.

Determined not to let the anxiety take hold, you pressed on, reminding yourself that the city was vast and filled with countless opportunities. Somewhere among the winding streets and towering buildings, an oasis of hydration awaited. All you had to do was stay focused and keep an eye out for that small but vital reprieve.

The merciless sun, as if sensing your growing anxiety, seemed to blaze even hotter, its relentless rays wrapping you in a suffocating embrace. Beads of sweat clung to your skin in a sticky shimmer, making each movement feel laborious and sluggish. Despite the discomfort, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand. Your eyes roamed the cityscape, seeking inspiration amidst the familiar charm of the urban sprawl.

You recalled the instructions given by your professor before the class set out on this journey. Find something that has two textures that contrast each other, and find a way to make them complement each other in your photo. It seemed a simple enough directive, especially considering the rich tapestry of your surroundings. Yet, the sun's unyielding assault made concentration an arduous endeavor.

As you navigated the bustling streets, your gaze flitted over the varied textures that adorned the city. Rough, weathered brick walls stood in stark contrast to the sleek, reflective surfaces of modern glass buildings. The interplay between the old and the new, the rugged and the refined, offered endless possibilities for your photographic assignment. But the oppressive heat made it difficult to hold onto any coherent thought for long.

The thirst that had been barely quenched earlier resurfaced with a vengeance, its gnawing intensity magnified by the knowledge that your water bottle was now empty. Your mouth felt as dry as the arid pavement beneath your feet, and each swallow seemed to scrape against a parched throat. Anxiety prickled at the edges of your consciousness, threatening to overwhelm your resolve.

You scanned the area for potential sources of relief, hoping to spot a fountain, a café, or any place where you could refill your bottle. The city, though familiar, seemed an endless expanse under the punishing sun. Every step felt heavier, the weight of your camera pressing down on you like a leaden reminder of your mission.

Yet, amidst the discomfort and the thirst, you remained determined. You sought the contrasting textures your professor had described, letting your eyes linger on the juxtaposition of smooth marble and rough concrete, or the way a delicate flower pushed through a crack in the asphalt. There was beauty to be found here, even in the harshest of conditions.

With a deep breath, you resolved to keep going, trusting that your perseverance would lead you to both the perfect shot and the much-needed water. The city, with all its contrasts and complexities, held the promise of discovery, if only you could endure a little longer.

"It’s so hot," you vaguely heard a classmate complain, her voice barely cutting through the heavy, sweltering air as she fanned herself with a weary hand. The others nodded in weary agreement, their faces etched with the shared misery of enduring the relentless sun. "We should all go for some ice cream after this," she suggested, a hint of hope sparking briefly in her eyes.

The idea of ice cream, cool and refreshing, was undeniably appealing. Yet, you didn’t dare voice your thoughts. The fear of worsening your situation held your tongue, a silent specter of anxiety that kept you from speaking up. As you glanced around at your classmates, their faces blurred by the heat, a flicker of desperation ignited within you.

You tried to remember if you had informed anyone about your fainting spells, but your mind drew a blank. The memories were elusive, slipping through your mental grasp like water through a sieve. The thought of revealing your vulnerability gnawed at you, and although you knew you should at least ask if anyone had spare water, your anxiety clung to you like a vice, rendering you silent at a moment when you needed help the most.

The world around you seemed to shimmer and waver in the oppressive heat, the vibrant colors of the city dulled by the haze of your growing discomfort. Your throat felt like sandpaper, each breath a laborious effort. The idea of speaking up, of asking for something as simple as water, felt insurmountable. Your classmates, though kind and considerate, seemed distant and unreachable in your moment of need.

Silent, you continued to endure, your thoughts a turbulent mix of desperation and fear. The sun beat down with unwavering intensity, each ray a reminder of your growing thirst and vulnerability. You scanned the faces around you, searching for a flicker of understanding, a sign that someone might notice your distress without you having to voice it.

But no such sign came. The conversations continued, the suggestions of ice cream and relief from the heat weaving through the group like a distant promise. You swallowed dryly, your silence a heavy burden, and resolved to press on. The city held the promise of respite somewhere, and you clung to the hope that you could find it before your strength gave out.

The more you pushed forward, the more acutely aware you became of the blood coursing through your veins. It was as if each heartbeat reverberated in your ears, amplifying the sense of impending dizziness. The city's vibrant energy seemed to swirl around you, the once steady ground beneath your feet now an unpredictable, undulating surface.

As the sensation of spinning grew more intense, you reluctantly allowed yourself to fall behind the group. You sought refuge against the cool, reassuring solidity of a nearby building, leaning against its weathered facade. Taking deep breaths, you tried to steady yourself, inhaling the warm, sun-baked air and exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm the storm within.

Your classmates, absorbed in their own artistic quests, continued on without noticing your absence. This anonymity, usually a comfort in your solitary pursuits, now only served to heighten your anxiety. You couldn't blame them for their oversight; it was common for someone to linger behind, captivated by a potential photograph. Still, the reality of being unnoticed in your moment of need felt like an invisible weight pressing down on your chest.

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to focus on the rhythm of your breathing, hoping it would anchor you in the present moment. The sounds of the city buzzed around you—distant conversations, the hum of traffic, the occasional birdcall—creating a cacophony that both grounded and overwhelmed you.

Opening your eyes, you glanced at the receding forms of your classmates, their laughter and chatter fading into the background. The distance between you and them felt insurmountable, not just in physical space but in the gulf of your unspoken struggle. You pressed your back more firmly against the building, feeling the rough texture of the brick through your thin shirt, a small reminder of the world outside your internal chaos.

You knew you needed to rejoin the group, to press on and complete the assignment, but the dizziness and rising anxiety made the thought of moving almost unbearable. You considered calling out, asking for help, but the words stuck in your throat, trapped by the fear of appearing weak or needy. Instead, you remained silent, hoping that your moment of respite would be enough to regain your composure.

Your body shivered uncontrollably despite the oppressive heat, a strange and unsettling contrast that heightened your sense of unease. The world around you seemed to blur and waver, your vision losing focus at an alarming pace. Each step felt like wading through thick, invisible molasses, and even the simplest movement became a Herculean effort. Despite this, you managed to lower yourself to the sidewalk, the rough pavement a harsh but necessary support.

You concentrate on your breathing, each inhale and exhale a desperate attempt to anchor yourself in the here and now. Yet, the ringing in your ears grew louder, a piercing sound that drowned out the city's ambient noise. It was a familiar, dreaded precursor to the fainting spell you knew was imminent, a relentless force poised to take control.

In the midst of this growing chaos, a voice pierced through the din, a lifeline in the swirling haze. "Hey, are you okay?" someone asked, their concern clear even through your muddled senses. The effort to lift your head and identify the speaker was beyond you; the world had narrowed to a tunnel of indistinct shapes and sounds.

You tried to respond, to assure them or perhaps to call for help, but your words dissolved into a string of incoherent babbles. Your tongue felt thick and uncooperative, your mind struggling to form coherent thoughts as the darkness edged closer. The last thing you registered was the overwhelming sense of vulnerability, the realization that your body was betraying you in this critical moment.

As the blackness enveloped your consciousness, you felt a profound disconnect from the world around you. The sounds, the heat, the distant figure of your classmate—all faded into a void, leaving you suspended in an abyss of nothingness. The struggle to stay present, to remain in control, slipped through your grasp like sand through your fingers.

In this void, time ceased to have meaning. Seconds or minutes, it was impossible to tell how long you lingered in that state of unconsciousness. The city, with its vibrant life and relentless sun, continued on without you, a stark reminder of your fragile existence.

When you finally awoke, it felt as though you were emerging from a dense fog, your mind struggling to piece together the fragmented reality around you. The disorientation was palpable, each moment stretching as your senses slowly reconnected with the world. Your head rested on someone’s lap, and though he was turned away, his presence was both unfamiliar and comforting in your vulnerable state.

Sounds began to filter through the haze, grounding you further. The low, urgent tone of the voice above you became clearer, barking orders with a mix of authority and concern. "Get some water!" Though you couldn't see who he was addressing, the urgency in his commands cut through the remnants of your confusion.

As your awareness sharpened, you noticed your arms were held aloft above your head. This small detail triggered a memory from your past, a practice you had shared with others in case your lips ever turned blue—a sign of your body’s desperate need for oxygen. The position was meant to untie the invisible knot in your lungs, allowing air to flow more freely and ease your breathing.

With this realization, a wave of gratitude washed over you. Even in your disoriented state, you recognized the significance of this gesture. The person cradling your head had either known or intuitively understood what to do, providing a lifeline in your moment of need.

You tried to speak, to express your thanks or perhaps to reassure the person helping you, but your voice was weak and unsteady. The effort drained you, and you opted to focus on your breathing, each inhale and exhale a conscious act of reclaiming control over your body.

It wasn’t until a groan escaped your lips that the person holding you turned to face you. Instantly, your face flushed with a deep wave of embarrassment upon recognizing him—it was Seungmin. The reassuring smile he sent your way was a beautifully rare sight, and for a fleeting moment, you felt your heart skip a beat. His lips moved, forming words that your still-dazed mind struggled to comprehend.

You blinked up at him, trying to focus, but the words eluded you. Noticing your confusion, Seungmin pursed his lips and turned to someone out of your line of sight. Almost immediately, a cold bottle of water with a straw was handed to him. He settled it gently by your head, positioning the straw so you could drink. The sensation of the cool water on your parched throat was heavenly, and you drank greedily, almost draining the bottle before you realized it.

Seungmin chuckled softly at your eagerness, the sound light and comforting. You felt your cheeks heat up again and averted your gaze, unable to meet his eyes. Despite your embarrassment, the relief from the water was undeniable. Your head cleared a bit more, the world coming into sharper focus.

Seungmin continued to watch over you, his expression a blend of concern and gentle amusement. His presence, usually so distant and enigmatic, now felt unexpectedly comforting. The awkwardness of the situation didn’t diminish the warmth of his care, and you felt a small surge of gratitude.

As you finished the last of the water, Seungmin reached out to steady the bottle, his fingers brushing against yours. The contact sent a jolt through you, but it was grounding, a reminder that you were not alone. He murmured something softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. Though the exact words were still lost to you, the intent was clear—he was there for you.

Gradually, the ringing in your ears subsided, and your breathing steadied. You risked a glance back at Seungmin, who was now focused entirely on you, his eyes full of quiet resolve. The vulnerability of the moment hung between you, unspoken but deeply felt.

You tried to muster a smile, a small token of thanks. Seungmin's eyes softened, and he returned the smile, a silent understanding passing between you. In that moment, the barriers of his usual aloofness seemed to fall away, revealing a depth of kindness that you hadn’t seen before.

Gradually, your hearing began to reawaken, stitching itself back together with your muddled senses. The familiar symphony of the bustling city—a cacophony of distant car horns, murmured conversations, and the steady hum of urban life—slowly emerged from the background noise, anchoring you to the present moment.

“Y/N, can you hear me?” Seungmin’s voice cut through the haze, his tone edged with concern as he noticed your growing awareness. You managed a shaky nod, your head still spinning slightly. His brows were knitted together in a deep frown, a tangible expression of his worry.

“Can you sit up, or do you need to stay down a little longer?” he asked gently. “There’s no rush. Please, stay there if you’re still feeling dizzy.”

With a quiet determination, you placed your hands onto the pavement, the rough texture grounding you as you clumsily pushed yourself away from him. Seungmin’s steadying presence guided you with careful hands, helping you to lean against the same building you had previously sought solace from before losing consciousness. You groaned softly, closing your eyes to escape the persistent whirl of the world around you. When you reopened them, the dizziness had ebbed, though remnants of the earlier chaos lingered at the edges of your vision.

In front of you stood a middle-aged man, his apron stained with grease and his hands clasped together in a gesture of concern. His eyes were fixed on Seungmin, waiting for instructions, his face etched with worry for your well-being. The weight of his concern was palpable, and it added another layer to the unfolding scene.

Seungmin exhaled deeply, a sigh that seemed to release the tension of the moment. He settled himself beside you, his posture relaxed yet attentive. He wrapped his arms around his knees, pulling them close to his chest, and his gaze remained focused on you with an almost protective intensity.

The ambient noise of the city continued to swirl around you, but in this small, sheltered space, it felt as though time had slowed. Seungmin’s presence was a steady anchor amidst the chaos, his concern a quiet reassurance that you were not alone. The man in the greasy apron lingered nearby, ready to assist at a moment’s notice, his worried gaze shifting between you and Seungmin.

The world slowly regained its equilibrium, the spinning sensation giving way to a more stable awareness. The tenderness of the pavement beneath you and the warmth of Seungmin’s concern combined to create a cocoon of comfort, allowing you to regain your composure and begin to piece together the events of the past moments.

“How are you feeling?” The middle-aged man’s voice was gentle, his eyes darting between you and Seungmin with a mixture of concern and kindness. “You should eat something. Come inside—whatever you get is on the house.”

A fresh wave of embarrassment washed over you, coloring your cheeks a deep red. You felt a pang of guilt for having worried such a considerate stranger. Just as you were about to politely decline the generous offer, Seungmin’s voice intervened with a firm yet caring tone.

“I agree, Y/N,” he said, his voice carrying a note of unwavering resolve. “You need to eat something after fainting like that. Let’s go inside.”

Seungmin’s tone left no room for argument, the decisiveness of his words compelling you to acquiesce. You sighed softly, nodding in acceptance. The man’s face lit up with a wide grin, clearly pleased by your agreement. With a quick, eager step, he rushed into the restaurant behind you.

Seungmin rose swiftly, brushing off any imaginary dust from his clothes with a swift motion. He extended his hands towards you, his expression one of quiet encouragement. You hesitated for a moment, then grasped his warm hands. The touch was gentle, and a subtle tingle spread through your fingers, a physical reminder of his comforting presence.

Though you felt more stable now, Seungmin’s hands remained hovering near your waist, a silent gesture of support as you made your way inside the restaurant. His protective stance was reassuring, a steadying force guiding you through the threshold.

The restaurant’s interior greeted you with a comforting embrace—a cool respite from the heat outside. The space was warmly lit, with the soft hum of conversation and the tantalizing aroma of food creating a cozy ambiance. 

The tantalizing aroma of Korean comfort foods wafted through the air, weaving its way into your senses and causing your stomach to rumble in eager response. Each fragrant note of sizzling meats, simmering stews, and freshly steamed vegetables seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace, making you profoundly grateful for both the man's generous offer and Seungmin's insistence.

Seungmin guided you with gentle assurance to a table nestled at the far end of the restaurant, where the hum of conversation was softer and the space felt more intimate. The dim lighting at this secluded spot cast a gentle glow, creating a cocoon of warmth and comfort. He carefully pulled out your chair, his movements measured and considerate, and nudged you forward slightly to ensure you were settled. With a courteous smile, he then made his way around the table, taking his own seat directly across from you.

His smile was a touch awkward, a charming contrast to the seriousness he had shown earlier. He glanced around the room, searching for the man who had so kindly attended to you, only to spot him approaching with a welcoming presence. The man carried a bottle of water and two menus, the promise of nourishment and choice clearly reflected in his hands.

As he reached the table, he placed the items before you with a friendly nod. You accepted the bottle and menus with a grateful bow and a warm smile, your heart swelling with appreciation for his kindness. The bottle of water was cool to the touch, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the restaurant, while the menus promised a delightful array of dishes.

Seungmin’s gaze softened as he watched you, his concern now mingled with a gentle sense of relief. The atmosphere around you seemed to ease, the initial tension giving way to a shared moment of calm. As you began to peruse the menus, the delicious scents and the comfort of the setting enveloped you, making you feel more at ease and ready to enjoy the simple pleasures of a meal with someone who had shown such unexpected care.

The air between you was thick with awkwardness, a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging in the space after such an intensely personal moment. You busied yourself by fixating on the vibrant images on the menu, using them as a comforting distraction from the lingering embarrassment. Each picture of steaming bowls of soup and colorful plates of food seemed to blur together, a vivid kaleidoscope that kept your eyes occupied and your mind from dwelling on the recent upheaval.

After a period of shared silence, you both placed your orders, the clatter of menus and the murmur of your choices filling the brief lull. There was no longer any barrier between you and the reality of the situation. With a deep breath, you gathered your courage and, in a voice softer than you intended, you managed to say, “Thank you.” Your eyes remained firmly fixed on the table, refusing to meet his gaze, as your cheeks and ears flamed with a blush of sincere embarrassment. Even though you couldn’t see him, you could almost feel his warm, understanding smile directed at you.

“You don’t have to thank me at all,” Seungmin replied, his voice infused with genuine sincerity. “I hope you don’t mind, but I texted the professor to let him know what happened, so he’s aware we won’t be finishing the class with everyone else today.” His words were a pleasant surprise, causing your eyes to widen slightly as you briefly met his gentle gaze. The kindness of his gesture momentarily pierced through your discomfort, but you quickly looked away, your shyness reasserting its hold.

In response to his concern, you offered a grateful nod and a shy smile, the simplest acknowledgments of his thoughtfulness. The question he posed next was gentle, yet it carried an undercurrent of genuine concern. “Do you pass out often?”

At his question, you let out a soft, resigned sigh, the sound almost like a whisper of the weariness you felt. “Sometimes,” you began, your voice barely more than a murmur. “It’s been happening since I was a child, though no one seems to know why. I’ve been checked for things like epilepsy, but they haven’t found anything.” The words felt heavy on your tongue, each syllable revealing a fragment of a long-standing uncertainty.

Seungmin’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes filled with a deep, attentive concern as he absorbed each word with tender care. His silence was a soothing balm, a quiet testament to his empathy. As you recalled the moment he had lifted your arms, a question escaped you almost impulsively: “How did you know to lift my arms?”

His initial reaction was one of surprise, his eyes widening as he blinked at your sudden inquiry. But the astonishment quickly softened into a shy, almost hesitant smile. “Oh,” he began, his voice gentle. “My mother also had fainting spells, usually when it was too hot or if she had an injury.” His revelation was accompanied by a look of nostalgia, a subtle hint of the personal connection he felt to the subject.

You were taken aback once more by this shared experience. “Your mother sounds a lot like me,” you responded, your tone light but tinged with genuine reflection. “I also faint for similar reasons—when I’m overheated or emotionally overwhelmed.”

A serene silence settled between you as Seungmin gave a thoughtful nod, his eyes drifting into a distant gaze that spoke of deep, unspoken reflections. The quietude was a gentle cocoon, wrapping around both of you as he lost himself in the labyrinth of his thoughts.

You turned your gaze to the window beside you, your eyes tracing the hurried figures moving briskly down the bustling street. Each passerby was a blur of motion and color, a stark contrast to the stillness enveloping your corner of the restaurant. The scene outside seemed almost surreal, a vivid tapestry of urban life against the backdrop of your subdued conversation.

Soon, the soft clinking of dishes announced the return of the man from behind the counter. He placed your meals before you with a warm, welcoming smile, the steam rising from the dishes creating a fragrant mist that made your mouth water in eager anticipation. You bowed in gratitude, your appreciation for the meal palpable in your respectful gesture.

With a mixture of impatience and hunger, you watched him take his first bite, his expression shifting to one of satisfied pleasure. Unable to resist any longer, you dove into your own meal, an involuntary sigh of delight escaping your lips as the flavors danced on your palate. Each bite was a revelation, the taste a symphony of comfort and culinary excellence.

In moments like these, the silence between you and Seungmin felt less like an awkward void and more like a shared, unspoken agreement. The simple act of enjoying a meal together, coupled with the mutual understanding forged through your earlier conversation, made the quiet a soothing presence rather than an uncomfortable gap. The gentle hum of the restaurant’s ambiance and the shared pleasure of the food created a cocoon of calm, transforming the once-unbearable silence into a space of peaceful companionship.

As the last morsels of your meal were savored, a lull settled between you, allowing your mind to finally formulate a conversation starter. You swallowed your bite with a mix of anticipation and nervousness before glancing up at Seungmin. His features were softened in concentration, his gentle demeanor captivating as he focused on the last remnants of his dish.

“So,” you began tentatively, your voice betraying a hint of shyness, “how did you get into photography?” The simple question was laden with curiosity and the desire to connect, and as his eyes met yours, you felt a shiver run down your spine.

Seungmin’s initial silence was a quiet contemplative pause, his gaze tracing the lines of your face with a thoughtful intensity before he began to speak. “My grandfather passed away from Alzheimer’s,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. The weight of his words seemed to settle heavily in the space between you, and your heart tightened with a pang of empathy.

He continued, his tone imbued with a delicate sadness. “He always spoke so fondly of my grandmother, who died before I was born. He used to thank her for her love of photography because it helped him hold onto who he was and the life he lived for a long time. To keep his memories vivid, I started taking pictures of everything around me. I had them developed so he could have tangible memories to hold onto—hundreds of photos of myself, my parents, my cousins, but also of the places I cherished: my room, his house, my house…simple, everyday moments that mattered to him.”

The silence that followed was heavy, laden with the significance of his words. You struggled to find the right response, your mind racing to articulate the depth of your feelings. Seungmin’s smile was tinged with a bittersweet nostalgia as he turned his focus back to his meal, leaving you in a space filled with reflection.

After a few moments, you finally found your voice, your tone warm and sincere. “That’s incredibly sweet, Seungmin. I think it was very noble of you to do that for your grandfather.” His response was a soft grin, his cheeks flushing a delicate pink as he swallowed. The sight of his smile, so genuine and heartfelt, made your heart swell with an emotion that was both tender and profound.

In that moment, Seungmin’s vulnerability and kindness transformed your perception of him. The image of his earlier aloofness seemed to fade into a distant memory, replaced by a newfound appreciation for the depth of his character. His quiet grace and the meaningful gesture he shared painted him in a more beautiful light, revealing layers of compassion that drew you closer to him.

As the last remnants of your meal were savored, Seungmin turned his attention to you with a curious gleam in his eyes. “What about you? How did you get into photography?” he inquired, his voice gentle and inviting. You had finished your meal shortly after him, the shared silence now ripe for deeper conversation.

You gave a shy shrug, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you tried to gather your thoughts. “I fear my story is not as sweet as yours,” you began, your tone light yet introspective. Seungmin’s playful roll of his eyes and encouraging nod urged you to continue, a subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well,” you continued, your gaze drifting as you recall your past, “my mother always bought magazines whenever she went grocery shopping, so our house was filled with stacks and stacks of them.” A nostalgic smile crossed your face as you painted a picture of your childhood. “I remember being a child, endlessly flipping through those magazines whenever boredom set in. I would get lost in the pages, captivated by the photographs. They seemed to tell stories of their own, each image a window into a world I found enchanting.”

Your voice grew softer, imbued with a gentle warmth as you shared how that fascination evolved. “One day, I decided to try my hand at capturing my own moments, inspired by those images I loved so much. What started as a simple curiosity quickly became a cherished hobby. The camera became a means for me to explore and create, and somehow, it just stuck with me.”

As you finished, you looked up to find Seungmin’s eyes still fixed on you, his expression a blend of interest and appreciation. The connection you felt through the shared conversation seemed to deepen, the personal stories weaving a tapestry of understanding and mutual respect. In the dim light of the restaurant, the simple act of sharing your paths through photography brought a new layer of intimacy to your budding friendship, making the quiet moments between you all the more meaningful.

“I think it’s cute,” Seungmin remarked with a lighthearted chuckle, the sound warm and genuine. The unexpected compliment made your cheeks flush with a delicate shade of pink, a mix of surprise and shyness coloring your reaction.

“You’re a good photographer, by the way,” he added, his eyes twinkling with sincere praise. 

The words hung in the air like a soft melody, but you couldn’t help but scoff, rolling your eyes in an exaggerated manner. “I’ve made it to the professor’s top five favorites only twice since I joined his class last year. You’re always the one receiving accolades for your work, which, I must admit, are truly remarkable.”

Seungmin’s gaze remained steady, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “I think it’s a bit unfair for you to view it that way,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “The whole idea of being in someone’s top five is a flawed measure of talent. It’s based on one person’s subjective preferences and doesn’t truly reflect our abilities. While I’m grateful for the recognition, I’ve seen your photos and always found them to be exceptional.”

He continued, his words flowing with thoughtful consideration. “You have a remarkable skill for capturing unique subjects in their most authentic form. It’s a talent to reveal their essence so clearly, especially within the constraints of our assignments. It’s something I find quite impressive and not easy to achieve.”

The sincerity in Seungmin’s voice, combined with his unwavering gaze, made your heart swell with a mix of gratitude and admiration. The conversation took on a new layer of depth, as his words not only offered comfort but also illuminated a newfound appreciation for your own work. In the softly lit restaurant, amidst the lingering aroma of your meal, his encouragement created a warm and supportive atmosphere, allowing you to see your art through a more appreciative lens.

A warm blush spread across your cheeks, a vivid response to the cascade of compliments from Seungmin. The praise seemed to flutter around you like soft, golden leaves in the breeze, making your face flush a deep crimson. Seeking refuge from the intensity of the moment, you allowed your gaze to wander towards the window, where the sun was gently descending, casting a golden hue over the city.

“Oh,” you began, your voice tinged with an innocent attempt to redirect the conversation. “How long have we been here? The sun is setting.” The urgency in your tone was barely concealed, and Seungmin, following your gaze, glanced out with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. His eyes widened slightly as he noticed the fading light and chuckled softly.

“I should probably start heading home,” you continued, a note of unease threading through your voice. “I don’t like walking home alone at night.” The admission was laced with a quiet vulnerability, and as you spoke, you could feel the familiar pang of anxiety gnawing at you.

Seungmin’s head turned sharply towards you, his expression shifting to one of genuine concern. “I’ll walk you home,” he said, his voice carrying a warmth and sincerity that wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. “It’s no problem at all.”

A playful back-and-forth ensued as you and Seungmin debated the offer of him walking you home. Despite your initial reluctance, a sense of acceptance settled over you, allowing you to concede to his persistent kindness. You attempted to settle the bill for your meal, but the generous man from earlier refused with a warm, unwavering smile. Even when Seungmin stepped in to offer payment, the man remained steadfast in his refusal. In the end, you both left a generous tip, a token of your gratitude for his exceptional kindness.

With the bill settled and the evening stretching out before you, you and Seungmin began your walk towards your apartment building. The path was bathed in the soft, fading light of dusk, casting long shadows and a serene glow over the city streets. As you strolled side by side, the conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by laughter and lighthearted banter.

The initial stiffness gradually melted away, replaced by a growing sense of ease and camaraderie. It was genuinely delightful to witness this side of Seungmin—a side that seemed to elude the confines of your shared photography class. His laughter, his thoughtful insights, and the warmth of his presence revealed a depth of character that was both refreshing and endearing.

In the gentle embrace of the evening, as the city lights began to twinkle like distant stars, the walk became more than just a journey home. It was a moment of genuine connection, a rare and cherished glimpse into Seungmin’s world, which felt like an honor to experience.

Eventually, you find yourself standing before the gleaming glass doors that lead into the lobby of your apartment building. The weight of the day’s end settles upon you, a bittersweet twinge in your chest as you come to terms with the departure of this unexpectedly pleasant companionship. The evening air, cool and gently perfumed with the scent of blooming night flowers, wraps around you both as you pause at the threshold.

Seungmin, his hands casually tucked into the front pockets of his jacket, rocks back and forth on his heels. The motion, coupled with his contemplative gaze, creates a picture of relaxed anticipation. His presence, so close to yours, carries a sense of warmth and quiet intimacy.

“This is me,” you murmur, your voice a soft whisper, blending with the stillness of the evening. You turn to face him fully, a mixture of gratitude and reluctance in your eyes. “Thank you again for taking care of me earlier. I’m really happy you were there.”

His response is a smile—genuine and radiant—that lights up his features and seems to fill the space between you with a comforting glow. Your heart swells at the sight, an involuntary smile curving your lips in return. Seungmin’s eyes hold a tender seriousness as he speaks. “Please take it easy, rest all that you can,” he advises, his concern palpable in his tone.

You nod in agreement, the sincerity of his words resonate deeply with you. The air between you feels charged with unspoken sentiments, a silent understanding blossoming amidst the dimming light. “It was really nice to spend time with you,” he continues, his admission eliciting a flurry of butterflies in your stomach.

“I had a really nice time with you too,” you reply, your voice imbued with genuine warmth. “Maybe we can do it again sometime soon—without me having to pass out for it.”

At your light-hearted comment, Seungmin laughs—a sound that is both musical and contagious. The laughter bubbles up between you, mingling with the evening air, and you find yourself laughing along, the shared moment creating a lingering sense of joy.

As you part ways, the memory of his smile and the warmth of his laughter accompany you, leaving a soft, lingering glow in your heart that makes the end of this day feel less like a farewell and more like a promise of things to come.

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

Hihihihi!! Hru!

I was wondering if you could write a stray kids x 9th member!reader where their a a maknae and their family lives far away so chans kinda a father figure for them? Like he looks after her and helps her fall asleep when they’re struggling, and maybe in skz vlogs or codes fans can see how much of a father figure he is to them. Its okay if you can’t ilyy bye❤️❤️

ꖛ ꙳꯬ 🦋 how he cares 𓂅 ໋⋅

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‧₊° pairing. chan x female reader ( platonically ! )

‧₊° content warnings. not proofread.

‧₊° rating. everyone

‧₊° summary. an episode of 2 kids’ show reveals just how deep your friendship with chan runs.

2 Kids’ Show has come to mean a lot for STAY, a fact that warmed your heart as you glanced around the set which was definitely an upgrade to the old yellow room with the blue couch, although the latter was a symbol of simpler times in a lot of ways. Still, the dingy feeling of a garage being occupied by a band was an aesthetic you hadn’t realized you’d appreciate this much.

Minho was already sitting on his assigned velvety green chair, a small stack of talking-point cards with the freshly designed logo of the show printed on the back in his hands as he waited for his cue to begin. Chan stood by your side, chatting lightly with his hairstylist as she ensured that his hair was perfect. You were already set and ready to begin, no trace of the tingling anxiety that usually plagued you before interviews and you knew it was because the only people you’d have to interact with were the very same people you spoke to daily — this was a relief to you these days.

“Okay!” The manager announced with a sharp clap of his hands in order to attract everyone’s attention. All of the staff quickly made their ways to their needed positions and the hairstylist Chan had been speaking to left him be. “Ready? Scene!”

“Where two kids share their secret stories and music, this is 2 Kids’ Show,” announced Minho, pausing for a moment for a light applause — to which you and Chan obliged albeit belatedly to tease your friend. Minho’s eyes playfully narrowed in your and Chan’s direction, though he quickly moved on with a smile. “I am 2 Kids’ Show’s handsome MC, Lee Know.”

You cupped your hands around your mouth to cheer exaggeratedly, overcompensating for the lack of an enthusiastic applause just a moment prior. Minho winced away from you even with the distance between the two of you. “You were scolding Hyunjin and Jeongin before, you don’t have any grounds to complain saying I don’t cheer now!”

“I do have a complaint actually, you’re being too loud! It hurts my ears!” Minho rolled his eyes playfully before glancing back at the cards in his hands with an amused smile. “Anyway, as you can see, today we have a special pair with us — Stray Kids’ wolf and bumblebee duo that STAY have always loved. To me, they’re a good representation of an endearing friendship, our oldest and youngest members — Chan and Y/N!”

Chan pressed a hand on your lower back to urge you forward, and you let yourself be guided by him with a practiced bright grin as you waved at your group member. You end up seated in between the two men, quickly grabbing one of the cushions of the couch and placing it on your lap out of habit. Chan followed suit, but only so he could fiddle with the fuzz.

“It’s so strange seeing you as our MC,” you commented lightly.

“Is it? Good or bad?”

You shrug innocently. “I guess we’re going to have to wait and see!”

“Careful,” Minho teased with an exaggerated ominous grin. “I’m the one leading this interview.”

Chan chuckled beside you, though he remained quiet otherwise.

“Okay! Chan and Y/N how have you two been lately?”

You glance over at Chan, unsure of whether he should begin speaking of you, but he made the choice for you as he absentmindedly nodded at you whilst keeping his eyes glued on the pillow. With an understanding nod, you clear your throat and turn to face Minho. Chan has been a bit on the quieter side, evidently exhausted by the grueling hours of work and the pressure of the recent comeback almost weighing him down slightly — although he would never admit it. “I’ve been pretty good, actually. Yesterday was my day off, so I was able to tend to my plants at home.”

“Oh, how are they?”

A frown tugged at yourself, pushing your lower lip into a frown. “Titi, my tradescantia died, which was really sad since it’d managed to live so long. They’re really difficult to keep alive since they require a lot of water, and I’ve heard how often they tend to die so I was very proud of myself when I managed to keep it for a bit despite our busy schedule.”

“Oh, Titi died?” Chan questioned, highly surprised by this new piece of information. It wasn’t uncommon for you to call or text him whenever one of your plants died since you had a deep love for them and always took their ends straight to your heart — it was a failure you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive, and it always made you work harder with the next plant. Not to say that you didn’t have a green thumb, your experience caring for them since childhood was more than enough proof of your abilities, but death comes to all and yet it hurts nevertheless. Titi in particular had been struggling for quite a bit despite your constant attempts to make things better for her, and by the time you found her completely lifeless in your pot, you were painfully aware of Chan being asleep after spending all night awake.

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a slightly guilty smile. “It was quite tragic, actually. But my gardenia flowers have just started blooming a few days ago, and I’m really excited to see them in their prime. It’s also nerve-wracking because they’re also said to be extremely difficult to maintain and I really don’t want to deal with another Titi. Since I don’t have an actual garden in a subtropical country, I had to invest in a container so I can control the temperature. They’re actually said to thrive really well with moderate warmth that is somewhere between 18°C and 21°C and their soil must be kept consistently moist at all times and also —”

Minho splayed his hands in front of himself to signal for you to stop, and so you snapped your mouth shut as a slight tinge of color rose to your cheeks. “You know we love you, and I will ask you about this after the interview. But we should probably move on with the questions.”

“Right. Sorry.”

Chan chuckled a bit, reaching out to rub your back in small circles to soothe you like he always did. Minho, catching the kind gesture, grinned brightly and pointed at Chan’s hand that stopped immediately when caught.

“That’s actually one of the things we wanted to talk about here,” Minho announced with a slight glint of mischief. “I think it’ll be okay if I jump a few questions now that we’re on the topic and then circle back to the others, right?”

The three of you glanced at your manager and director, both of whom nodded and motioned for Minho to continue. Chan drew his hand back, focusing on the pillow once more.

“Right, so I think we’re all guilty of watching some of the videos that STAYs make online. I for one find them to be very entertaining, but I also noticed that there’s a greater amount of content made of you two — a lot of people really admire your friendship, so how’s that looking so far?”

This time, you nudged Chan’s knee with your own. He glanced up and cleared his own throat. “I love watching those videos, honestly. I think it’s really interesting to see how many STAYs can appreciate it. I know Y/N and I have been through a lot together and it really makes me appreciate her even more these days.”

“Channie,” you teased. “You make it sound like we’re dating.”

“I was just about to say! Right?” Minho burst out, chuckling as Chan rolled his eyes. It’s a joke as old as time, really, and it couldn’t be further from the truth — no matter how many fans believe it to be true. You didn’t blame those who viewed you and Chan as something more than friends, however, because everyone is entitled to their own opinions when it really comes down to it, and it’s a consequence of being an idol that you needed to embrace regardless of how frustrating it could be at times. All that being said, you and the boys have found a way to bring humor into the whole thing, which oftentimes makes it easier to deal with.

As Chan reached across from your body to swat at Minho with his pillow, you couldn’t help but giggle. “Anyway,” he continued as he sent his friend a pointed look. “I just think that after being friends for so long, it’s natural for us to become as close as we are. Besides, Y/N always needs me, which makes me very happy.”

His words seemed to warm every cell in your body, these thoughts of his were not new to you since it was something that he frequently mentioned during those late nights spent either working or having a drink together. It was the mere thought of you making him feel as wanted as you knew he deserved to feel that made you content, it was the least you could do for him when he sacrificed so much for everyone in the group on a daily basis.

“I think we’ve earned the right to be this close.” Minho cocked his head to the side, silently urging you to elaborate on your comment. “I mean, I’m not born or raised in Korea like most of the other members are, and the only ones who could really understand what it meant to be homesick were him and Felix. Oftentimes, I would find myself in bed just wide awake because I couldn’t help but obsess over my troubles. Every time my mind was just spinning like that, I knew I could count on Chan, to calm me down.

It’s especially sweet, too, because we all know Chan is a bit of a workaholic, but whenever someone needs him he just…stops and turns all of his focus on us and it made me feel very seen. He listens, and offers his own insights and is just like the big brother I always need around. Usually those nights end with us in the living room, and I’ll fall asleep to the sounds of his keyboards click-clacking as he continues working. Chan just has that soothing aura that helps so much.”

Chan could only watch as you spoke about him, those mini stars that only seemed to appear when watching his members. You held his gaze for only a moment, hoping he could feel the sincerity oozing from your expression.

“I think it’s safe to say that STAYs really do see that.” Minho was leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, lips curled up into a soft lopsided smile as he watched the interaction between the two. All of the members shared their own special friendships with you that you adored and appreciated with every fiber of your being, but the fact that Chan was your platonic soulmate was an undeniable fact. “The fact that Y/N is our maknae also probably plays a part in this friendship. Chan, has there ever been a time in which Y/N felt like she was older?”

After a moment of careful consideration, Chan responded with: “I think Y/N can be very nurturing when she wants to be. She’s always making sure that I’ve drank enough water and she often brings me meals when she can because I do spend an awful lot of time working. But other than that, she’s still very much a big baby — OW!”

Your hand stung slightly from when you smacked his arm, guilt seeped into your smile since you hadn’t meant for it to hurt that much. Nevertheless, you stood your ground.

“Would a big baby be that strong?”

Minho chuckled at the scene. “I think you’re proving him right, though.”

“I’ll hit you too, you know.’

“Okay, okay, let us move on from this before you start getting all violent.” Although he was partly teasing, Minho was not a stranger to your slaps that always hit harder than you’d mean to, as though you were a large puppy that didn’t know its strength. “Y/N, has Chan ever felt like he was younger?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t even think about it,” Chan chortled.

“Don’t have to,” you said with a wicked grin curling up your lips. “He’s a big baby when he doesn’t get any attention and also when he’s sick.”

At this, Minho burst out laughing. “No, you’re right. She’s right.”

It was now Chan’s turn to let his hand fly and make contact with your arm, though his slap was significantly lighter than yours. You still pretended to be distressed due to the pain, clutching the area that he touched and twisting your face in mock suffering.

The questions on Minho’s talking-point cards continued rolling off of his tongue as the interview carried on. It was a time that, had the goal truly been to cover every single aspect of yours and Chan’s relationship, it’d never end. He was the kind of guy you trusted with everything, and you knew he felt the same way towards you. Bang Chan was your best friend, the brother you always needed, and your guide when in the darkness. By the time the cameras stopped rolling almost immediately after your collaborative singing in the end, the promise of buying lunch was on the tip of your tongue as you jogged to catch with his wider footsteps.

word count: 2.2k 🦋 posted: 01 • 03 • 2024

💬 a note from green;

First of all, Happy New Years! Hope it’s 2024 is being kind to everyone thus far.

Secondly, thank you for the request my dear Anonnie! I really hope this is good, I’ve never written anything about a ninth member, much less in a platonic way so I struggled slightly on how to do it. I’m gonna be very honest right now and say that I am not a platonic anything haha, my girlfriend (who found my account recently) will tell you that much. We did a lot of “platonic” shit before we finally admitted that we were, in fact, not being platonic at all. So, yeah. I do love a challenge so I really appreciate it!

Finally, I’m finally feeling better! All I have is a mild cough, nothing too bad compared to what I was dealing before so be ready for more posts!

⨳ kofi ⨳

( 🏷️ ) taglist: @grandpafelixx , @agi-ppangx

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⨳ ❛𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

❛ In which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.

𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐣𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 ) 1.4k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression, reader has fibromyalgia, constant mentions of being in pain, love-making, cussing, lots of angst, MDNI.

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

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

⌗ O1┆ 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝

ten months earlier

It’s a shrine. Photographs and posters of your face adorn the walls of your former bedroom, meticulously arranged in neat rows, each framed and dated, chronicling your journey. The once wobbly old bookshelves, which cradled your most cherished books, have been replaced by plain white ones, now solely occupied by your albums and merchandise. The desk, your sanctuary where you spent countless hours studying or writing songs until your body gave in to exhaustion, has vanished. In its place stand several life-sized cardboard cutouts, unmistakably pilfered rather than bought. The only vestige of familiarity in this shrine is your bed, still dressed in the same crimson linens you had always adored. There you sit, a hollow semblance of the person whose face now dominates these walls, alongside your untouched suitcase since your arrival.

A torrent of conflicting emotions surged through you, as memories long buried flooded your already chaotic mind, bringing with them a sharp migraine that crept through your temples. Despite having taken medicine, you doubted it would dissipate without the balm of a proper night’s sleep. Yet, as your mother poked her head through the half-closed door of your old bedroom, you knew rest would remain elusive. Nevertheless, you managed to pull the corners of your lips into a smile, hoping it would be convincing enough as she made her way inside to sit beside you.

She surveyed the room she had reimagined, a delicate flush coloring her cheeks. "I couldn't help it; I wanted to celebrate your success."

You remained silent, instead allowing your gaze to drift over the unsettling array of posters, each bearing your stage name, Noctara. The dark, haunting themes woven into every image evoked a peculiar sensation, as though you were staring at the face of a stranger rather than your own.

"I wanted to showcase everything in the living room so our friends could see just how hard you’ve been working," she said, her voice tinged with a soft laugh as she rolled her eyes playfully. "But your father worried it might scare some of them away."

You couldn’t help but agree with your father’s sentiment, though you managed to smile at her gesture. It was strange to see her so animated, grasping for words when the last time you had seen her in person had been so fraught with pain. It seemed she wished to erase that hurtful moment from memory — or perhaps she already had.

It was no surprise that she chose now, when you had to conceal half your face just to walk the streets without being recognized, to display your success. Although performing had always been your passion, you had often contemplated quitting, burdened by your mother’s relentless obsession with having a prodigious child. Time and again, you had been pushed to the brink, desperately clinging to whatever you could to prevent yourself from falling.

The irony of your success as an idol was not lost on you. As deadlines and relentless schedules closed in, every attempt to catch your breath was thwarted. You couldn’t retreat behind your doting father for refuge anymore, not when your career stood at its zenith, laden with the heavy expectations of others.

Your career had granted you the ability to fulfill a dream that was close to your father’s heart—allowing him to retire from his grueling construction job and open a record store just around the corner from your street. The store, flourishing amidst the resurgence of vinyl enthusiasts, stood as a testament to his newfound joy. The thought of quitting now, and disappearing from the spotlight, was unthinkable. Your family, now reliant on your success, would be left with nothing, and no matter how you felt about them, it would be deeply unjust.

“Have you seen my garden?” Your mother’s voice cut through the silence that had stretched between you, breaking the heavy pause with an unexpected question. You shook your head, astonished to learn that she had finally done what she had long promised: to revive the gardens that had languished throughout your childhood. “Come with me.”

She gestured for you to follow, rising swiftly and hurrying out of your room with an eagerness that suggested she’d rather be anywhere else. With a soft groan, you pushed yourself to your feet, ignoring the persistent ache in your lower back and knees.

As you entered the common areas of the house, you found the glass sliding doors leading to the backyard flung wide open. Your mother stood on the porch, her face alight with a broad smile as she awaited your reaction to her labor of love. The garden was a riot of wildflowers, each one a burst of color, growing almost as tall as you. There was no trace of meticulous planning; instead, the flowers seemed to have been scattered with joyful abandon. A stone path wound its way through the garden, leading to a stunning fountain that stood gracefully at its heart. Despite the apparent chaos, your eyes were drawn to the garden's raw, untamed beauty, a testament to its natural charm and the loving hands that had nurtured it.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath. She gestured toward the porch swing beside the sliding doors, and you settled onto it with a grateful sigh as she joined you. “I’m so glad you finally got the garden you wanted.”

Her smile was soft and warm as she replied, “It couldn’t have been without you.”

You fought to contain the swell of emotion in your chest, but the smile that tugged at your lips betrayed your efforts. Her smile widened in response, a silent acknowledgment of the moment, and she wisely chose to let the silence stretch between you, wrapping you both in a comfortable tranquility.

“Do you have anyone?”

The unexpected question made you scoff, your eyes rolling before you could curb the reflex. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said through gritted teeth, struggling to mask her frustration, prompting you to purse your lips in silent apology. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“Mom,” you sighed, trying to keep your tone even. “You know that as an idol, I’m not allowed to date.”

“Yes, that might be true,” she pressed on, undeterred. “But I keep reading about idols who are dating anyway.”

“And why can you read about it, Mom? Because those idols either got caught or their companies allowed them to publicly announce their relationships.”

“Yes, yes,” she waved her hands dismissively, as though swatting away your argument. “Rules are just suggestions; they can’t control you completely.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle breathlessly, glancing up at the stars above as if they might lend you some strength. The absurdity of her words almost made you laugh out loud.

“You don’t understand, I could be fired if I’m caught dating. It’s happened before.”

“At least hear me out,” she persisted stubbornly, and you sighed in resignation. “The reason I bring this up is because I recently met an old friend from my youth—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hold on—”

“No, Mom, I am not meeting any of your friends' sons.”

“Please!”

Her desperate plea silenced you, leaving you with your jaw clenched in frustration. To regain your composure, you shifted your gaze to the tranquil garden, seeking solace in its calm serenity.

“I recently reconnected with an old friend from my youth, and she has a son who is also an idol. I didn’t make any promises, but I said I’d discuss it with you. If you agree, you’ll meet him this Friday at a coffee shop just two blocks away. Even if you’re worried about your company firing you—which I doubt, considering your success—you can simply say you’re meeting a friend rather than going on a date. There’s really no harm in meeting one boy for your mother’s sake.”

“My answer is still no. I don’t want to—”

“Oh, Y/N, please! I don’t ask for much—”

“No, Mom, you ask for everything! It doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me—I do—but my answer remains firmly no.”

“So you’d rather embarrass me?”

With an exasperated sigh, you gaze up at the star-strewn sky, silently pleading for some celestial intervention.

“Fine,” you grit out, your frustration barely contained. “But I will meet him just this once, and you will never pester me with this nonsense again.”

The joy that spread across her face would have been almost comical if you weren’t so weary. She leaped up in excitement, planting quick kisses on your cheeks before dashing inside, presumably to share the news with your father. In the distance, you heard her calling out the details again: Friday at noon.

You released another sigh, rubbing your temples as you reclined in your seat. The garden remained as enchanting as ever, and the night sky, with its blanket of stars, was even more breathtaking.

posted: 06 • 14 • 2024

💬 a note from green;

i broke up with my girlfriend today but we roll haha. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, more will be coming since i'm just going to throw myself into writing instead of coping because therapy is expensive and i don't want to.

( 🏷️ ) permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @jisunglyricist

( 🏷️ ) series taglist:

I’m so glad you enjoyed it even if it was outside of your comfort zone! Thank you so much for the support 🥹🫶

─── ⋆⋅☆ CURIOUS PLEASURES ( xdinary heroes )

❛ Seungmin, intrigued yet apprehensive, tentatively asks you to explore new sexual experiences together after hearing about his coworkers' preferences.

𝐨𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.9k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 15 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ It took me a second to write this because I wasn't sure of how to start it, but I did it! This was requested by the amazing🍀 Anon! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: MDNI, anal fingering (male receiving), blowjob, use of a vibrator, handjob, mentions of watching porn, established relationship, Non-Idol AU, let me know if I missed anything!

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

As you leave your boyfriend’s workplace, Seungmin reaches for your hand. His touch is warm and familiar, grounding you in the present moment. The late afternoon sun dips low in the sky, casting elongated shadows along the sidewalk, and the two of you naturally fall into a comfortable rhythm, your steps matching as you head toward your usual spot—a quaint little ice cream shop a few blocks away. The conversation between you is light at first, filled with the small moments of your day, the kinds of things you always share during these evening walks. You notice that Seungmin seems a bit distant, his gaze unfocused as if he's lost in thought, but you decide not to press him, trusting that he’ll share what’s on his mind when he’s ready.  

When you reach the shop, the bell above the door chimes softly, its gentle sound blending with the soft murmur of conversations inside. You both head to the counter, Seungmin ordering his favorite flavor with a hint of his usual smile, and you choose yours. Finding a cozy booth near the window, you settle in, the sun’s golden rays filtering through the glass, casting a warm glow that dances across Seungmin’s cheeks, highlighting the soft flush that lingers there. As you sit across from him, you can't help but notice the subtle tension still lingering in his posture. He’s fidgety, his spoon stirring his ice cream more than he’s eating it. 

“What’s on your mind?” you ask after a moment, your curiosity getting the better of you. You take a slow spoonful of your ice cream, eyes focused on him. You've learned to recognize the signs—the way his lips are slightly pursed, how his eyes dart around as if searching for the right words. 

Seungmin hesitates, his gaze flicking up to meet yours for a brief moment before dropping back down to his bowl. “So, um, today at the shop, Hyeongjun and Jungsu were talking about... something,” he says, his voice quieter than usual, almost shy. 

You raise a curious eyebrow, leaning in a bit closer. “Yeah? What were they talking about?”

His cheeks flush a soft pink, and he looks down, his spoon making small, aimless circles in his bowl as if he’s debating whether to continue or let the subject drop. After a few seconds of silence, he sighs softly, a bit of resolve settling in his eyes. “They were talking about... well, how they sometimes like it when their partners take control. You know, like being the one who... takes the lead in bed.” 

You blink, a bit surprised by the sudden turn into more intimate territory, but you feel a smile tugging at your lips. There’s something incredibly endearing about how he fumbles for the right words, his shyness evident in the way his cheeks redden further. “Really? And what did you think about that?” you ask gently, your tone encouraging as you watch his expression closely, trying to gauge his thoughts.

He shifts in his seat, clearly feeling a mix of embarrassment and intrigue. “I... I don’t know. I mean, I guess I never really thought about it as an option.” His voice drops even lower as he glances around the mostly empty ice cream shop, making sure no one is close enough to overhear. Then, he leans in closer, his face so near to yours that your breaths mingle, and you feel a slight shiver run through you. “They mentioned something about, um, using a strap and, well... it sounded kind of interesting.” His words come out in a whisper, his vulnerability palpable. 

For a moment, you’re caught off guard by his confession, but a soft smile forms on your lips. There's a rush of excitement at the unexpected turn of the conversation, a thrill that sends a warm flutter through your veins. “If it’s something you’re curious about, we can definitely try it whenever you want,” you reply, your voice gentle and reassuring. “I’d be more than happy to explore that with you.” You want him to know there’s no pressure, only a safe space to share and explore whatever he’s comfortable with.

Seungmin's eyes widen slightly, and his cheeks deepen to a lovely shade of crimson. His gaze drops back to his slowly melting ice cream, and he murmurs, “Really? You’d be okay with something like that? You don’t think it’s too... weird?”

Your smile softens into something more earnest as you reach across the table, placing your hand over his. “Of course, I’d love to try it out with you, my love. You should always know that I want to make you feel good. If that means stepping out of our comfort zones, then I’m always open to at least discussing it. We can start slow, see how it feels for both of us, okay?” 

Seungmin nods, his expression a beautiful mix of relief, nerves, and budding excitement. There’s a lightness to his eyes now, a sense of comfort and trust that wasn’t there before. The rest of your ice cream date continues with a more playful energy, the earlier tension melting away like the last bit of ice cream in your bowls.

As you walk home together, hand in hand, you sense a shift in the air—a quiet, almost electric anticipation that seems to vibrate between you. The evening light fades, casting soft shadows along the pavement, and the rhythm of your footsteps is steady yet filled with a subtle tension. Your mind swirls with a whirlwind of possibilities, considering all the ways you could begin this new and intimate journey of taking control with Seungmin in the bedroom. However, you quickly realize that, despite the rush of ideas, you don’t have the faintest clue where to start or what to do. A small comfort comes from the fact that this is as new for him as it is for you. Whatever happens next will be a learning experience for both of you—a shared exploration of uncharted territory.  

When you finally reach your shared apartment, Seungmin releases a deep breath, the kind that seems to settle from somewhere deep inside, as the two of you kick off your shoes at the entrance and shrug out of your thin jackets. His expression is distant, clearly still mulling over the conversation from the ice cream shop. You decide to give him space to gather his thoughts and head to the small kitchen, opening the fridge to retrieve a cold bottle of water to soothe your dry throat. The coolness of the bottle against your skin feels grounding, a sharp contrast to the heat building within you.  

Seungmin has followed you quietly, his presence a gentle shadow behind you. When you offer him the bottle, he takes a generous swig, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each swallow. Then, he speaks, his voice barely above a whisper, yet laced with a tentative courage: "I think I'd like to try... starting small. If that's okay."  

His words send a quickening pulse through your veins, your heartbeat drumming a little faster as it dawns on you that Seungmin is eager to explore this newfound curiosity much sooner than you had anticipated. You offer him a reassuring smile, finishing the last of the water before tossing the empty bottle into the recycling bin. Gently, you take his hand, fingers intertwining with his as you lead him toward your shared bedroom. "We can definitely start with something simple," you say softly, your voice a soothing melody in the quiet of the apartment. "And we'll only go as far as you’re comfortable with."  

You turn to face him, your gaze soft but sensual, hoping to ease his nerves. Your hand comes to rest over his chest, where you can feel the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm. You’re about to guide him back toward the bed, a gentle pressure on his chest to encourage him to sit, but his eyes suddenly widen, and a flicker of panic crosses his face. He steps back quickly, his breath shaky, and his cheeks are flushed a deep, telling crimson.  

"Uh, I'm sorry—I just remembered something that the guys told me I had to do before doing any of this... Can you wait for me while I take a quick shower?" he asks, his words tumbling out in a rush. His eyes avoid yours, and you can see the embarrassment and nerves written all over his expression.

You can't help but furrow your brows, confusion evident as you tilt your head slightly to the side. Still, you nod silently, giving him the space he needs. Seungmin’s sudden sprint toward the bathroom would have been comical if it weren’t for the knot of anxiety and mild bewilderment tightening in your stomach. The bathroom is just down the short hallway, right next to the bedroom, and you hear the door close behind him, followed by the faint sound of water rushing through the pipes.  

With a soft sigh, you sit on the edge of your shared bed, feeling the anticipation build anew. Slipping your phone from the back pocket of your work pants, you decide to make use of the unexpected time alone. You navigate the internet with a mix of anxious curiosity and burgeoning excitement, searching for any ideas or suggestions on how to approach this new dynamic between you and Seungmin.  

Your eyes skim through informative websites and, eventually, a few more porn videos, your breath growing a little heavier as you delve deeper. With each click, each new insight, a slow, simmering arousal builds within you, blending with the thrill of the unknown. You can’t help but wonder why neither of you had brought up this possibility sooner, feeling the thrill of finally stepping into this unspoken desire for the first time. A smile tugs at your lips as you imagine the possibilities, your mind already spinning with thoughts of how you’ll guide Seungmin through this first experience, both of you ready to explore and discover together.

You're lounging on the bed, phone in hand, scrolling through the endless pages of information when the gentle patter of water from the bathroom reaches your ears. It’s a soothing, rhythmic sound, one that fills the room with a sense of calm anticipation. A few moments later, the door creaks open, and Seungmin steps out, the steam curling around him like a fine mist. A towel is wrapped snugly around his waist, clinging to his hips, while his hair, still damp from the shower, clings in soft, tousled strands that curl at the ends. Droplets of water trail from his dark locks, gliding down the curve of his neck and catching the soft light, leaving a shimmering trail along his freshly washed skin. His whole body seems to glisten, a fresh sheen of water still lingering on his toned form.  

He pauses in the doorway of your shared bedroom, a mix of nerves and excitement painting his cheeks with a rosy flush. There’s a sheepish yet giddy smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and his eyes—wide, filled with an intriguing blend of trepidation and thrill—lock onto yours. His gaze is magnetic, pulling you in, and you can't help but return his smile, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and newfound confidence, now bolstered by the things you'd just learned online. You notice the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, the towel around his waist swaying slightly with the movement. There’s a playful unease in his posture—a hesitancy tempered with the eager curiosity of diving into something new and unknown.

Setting your phone aside, you rise from your spot at the edge of the bed, your eyes never leaving his. You close the short distance between you, a silent promise written in the intensity of your gaze. When you reach him, your hands find his, and you pull him into a deep, passionately reassuring kiss. He responds immediately, his lips moving against yours with a fervor that matches your own. As you gently nip at his bottom lip, a silent plea for more, he lets out a soft whimper that sends a rush of arousal through you. His lips part willingly, and you waste no time, your tongue slipping into his mouth, tangling with his in an intimate dance that deepens with every second.  

Without breaking the heated exchange, you guide him back toward the bed. His steps are tentative at first, but he quickly catches on, and you coax him down to sit where you had been moments before, right on the edge of the bed. As he takes his seat, you lower yourself onto your knees between his legs, using his knees to steady yourself. Only then do you break the kiss, pulling back just enough to search his eyes. You look for any signs of hesitation, of discomfort, but all you find is a new glint—a desperate need that you’ve never seen in him before.  

Unable to resist the pull of his swollen lips, you lean in and press a fleeting, tender kiss there, your lips lingering just long enough to leave a warmth behind. Then, you begin a slow, deliberate trail down his jawline, your lips grazing his skin in soft, teasing pecks that send shivers rippling through him. His breath catches, and when you reach his collarbones, you pause, knowing just how sensitive he is in that spot. The response is instant and intense; his hand tangles in your hair with a grip that borders on painful but stings in a way that’s oddly thrilling, while his other hand cups the back of your head, trying to pull you even closer, as if he can’t get enough.  

It takes a moment for you to remember that tonight, the power is yours. With a sly smile, you pull back from his collarbone, leaving him breathless, his eyes half-lidded with desire. His pupils are blown wide, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven breaths, and a delicious sense of control surges through you. Moving with deliberate slowness, you reach down and take hold of both his wrists, guiding them to rest on either side of him on the bed. Seungmin’s eyes are glazed with lust, his chest still heaving, but he obeys, keeping his hands where you’ve placed them, though his fingers twitch with the instinctive urge to reach for you.  

There’s a delicious tension in the air—a fine line between his restraint and his yearning. His struggle to maintain control only heightens the atmosphere, and your smirk deepens as you lean back in, brushing your lips close to his ear, your breath warm against his skin as you whisper, “Tonight, you’re mine.” The words seem to electrify him, a soft gasp escaping his lips, and you can feel the thrill of anticipation building between you, ready to explode into something neither of you will soon forget.

Your tongue trails a slow, languid path down his chest and along his torso, leaving a glistening trail in its wake as you maintain a steady, lustful gaze on his face. His breath comes in soft, trembling pants, his chest rising and falling with each exhale. You relish in the way his eyes, half-lidded with desire, meet yours—a silent plea hidden within their depths. As you descend lower, you notice that the towel he'd wrapped around his waist after his shower has unraveled at some point, revealing the sight of his beautifully hard cock, already leaking with desperate arousal. The sight makes your own pulse quicken, and you waste no time in indulging him further.

You start with a classic approach, your tongue tracing slow, deliberate circles around his tip, savoring the salty taste of him as you listen to the soft, needy sounds that escape his lips. His breath hitches sharply as you take him deeper, letting the heat of your mouth wrap around him. His fingers curl into the sheets, knuckles whitening with the strain, and you can feel the way his hips fight to stay still beneath you, each twitch betraying his desire. Your pace is slow and deliberate, allowing him to fully immerse himself in the overwhelming sensation of your mouth, your hands, and the rhythmic undulation of your movements. His breathing grows uneven, each inhale shaky and filled with anticipation.

When you finally pull away, you revel in the sight before you: his cheeks flushed a deep pink, his lips parted as he pants for breath, and his eyes half-closed in a haze of pleasure. "I want to try something," you murmur softly, your voice low and teasing as you reach into the nearby drawer. His gaze follows your movements, widening slightly when he sees what you've retrieved—a small, sleek vibrator, the soft hum of it filling the room as you switch it to its lowest setting. There’s a flicker of curiosity mixed with a hint of apprehension in his expression, his eyes darting between the toy and your face. "Just relax," you whisper reassuringly, your tone a soothing balm against the charged atmosphere. 

You begin by teasing the vibrator along his length, pressing it gently against his shaft while continuing your ministrations with your mouth. His reaction is immediate and electrifying—his hips jerk slightly, and a sharp intake of breath escapes him, his voice caught somewhere between a moan and a gasp. It's clear he's never felt anything like this before, evident in the way his cock continues to leak, a steady stream of arousal that makes your own excitement build. You keep your movements steady and methodical, letting the vibrator explore all the sensitive spots along his cock, each touch drawing shivers and jerks from his body. A proud grin tugs at your lips as you watch his responses, the way his brows knit together, and his lips part to release soft, breathless moans.

As his pleasure builds, you decide to take things a step further. You move lower, cradling his balls in one hand—now drenched in a mix of his arousal and your saliva—while keeping the vibrator pressed against him with the other. He lets out a slightly high-pitched moan of surprise, his brows furrowing even tighter as his face contorts in sheer pleasure. "Does this feel good?" you ask softly, your voice a soothing caress as you watch his face closely for any sign of discomfort. He nods quickly, his voice catching in his throat as he manages a strained, "Y-yeah... feels really good." 

Encouraged by his response, you continue, your fingers gradually slipping lower to tease along his entrance. His breath hitches again, but this time there's an eager undertone, a breathless anticipation evident in the way he instinctively pushes his hips forward, silently begging for more. With a soft chuckle, you decide to tease him a little further. You make a show of spitting a generous amount of saliva onto your index finger, letting it drip and glisten in the dim light before applying gentle pressure, just the tip at first. He moans softly, his body tensing, his upper lip curling up in slight discomfort before he begins to relax. He leans back onto his forearms against the bed, and you take the opportunity to wrap your lips around his cock once more.

You take your time, keeping your finger still at first, letting him adjust. His breaths come in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to steady himself. All the while, you maintain eye contact, wanting him to feel safe, to feel cherished in this vulnerable moment. "You're doing so well, baby," you whisper, your voice soft and encouraging. "Just relax and enjoy it." With each careful thrust of your finger, with each glide of his tip against the back of your throat, with each slow, teasing movement of the vibrator against his shaft—his body begins to respond. His breaths grow deeper and more ragged, his hips moving in time with your rhythm. 

When you add a second finger, stretching him gently, he lets out a soft, almost whimpering moan, his entire body trembling as you find that sweet spot inside him. His reactions are raw and breathtaking—a beautiful mix of vulnerability and desire that sends an addictive rush of arousal through you. You relish the sight of him unraveling under your touch, his expression a mix of pleasure and desperation. You hope, with a deep yearning, that this won't be the last time you get to see him like this—completely at your mercy, lost in the overwhelming pleasure you're giving him.

As you continue your rhythm, his hips begin to move instinctively, chasing the pleasure you're giving him with every thrust and stroke. His body reacts to your touch like a finely tuned instrument, his soft gasps and breathy moans blending harmoniously with the low hum of your small vibrator. The room fills with a symphony of intimacy—lewd, wet sounds mingling with the ragged cadence of his breathing and the slick slide of your fingers moving in and out of his entrance. His body is alive with sensation, each jolt of pleasure pushing him closer to the edge. You can feel it in the way his cock twitches within your mouth, desperate and aching, and in the way his hands begin to reach out, searching for something—anything—to anchor himself to in this sea of pleasure.

Sensing his need for connection, you decide to turn off the vibrator, its quiet hum fading as you toss it aside. Instead, you take one of his trembling hands in yours, intertwining your fingers together. The simple touch is grounding, bringing him back to the present, and you give his hand a gentle squeeze, a silent promise that you’re right here with him. His breath stutters in his chest, and you take a moment to savor his reaction as you bob your head along his length, letting your tongue twirl and dance around him with deliberate slowness. You pull away with a soft, wet pop, your lips red and swollen, still brushing kisses along his shaft. “That’s it,” you murmur, your voice a hushed command, each word a warm breath against his sensitive skin that sends shivers coursing through him. "Let go for me, my love."

When you take him back into your mouth, your lips enveloping him in a warm, wet heat, he gasps, his body taut with anticipation. Your tongue teases the slit at his tip, savoring the salty taste of his pre-cum, while your fingers work with a newfound urgency, picking up their pace as they curl and press, grazing his sensitive spot inside with precision. The effect is immediate and electrifying—his body tenses, his hips bucking slightly as he teeters on the brink. His moans grow louder, his breath more erratic, and you can feel his restraint slipping away. It doesn’t take long before Seungmin is coming undone beneath you, his release crashing over him like a wave. 

His body trembles violently with pleasure, his muscles clenching and relaxing in a rhythmic dance of surrender. His eyes flutter shut, and his lips part as a broken, breathless moan escapes him, echoing through the room. His fingers grip yours tightly, holding on as if afraid to let go, his trust in you deepening with every exhale. You feel a profound connection in this moment—a wordless understanding, a bond that transcends the physical. His vulnerability, his trust, his surrender—they are gifts, and you cherish each one as he loses himself in the intensity of his climax, feeling the weight of the intimacy shared between you.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @joosbasschick @xhfics (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

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🏵️ BEAUTIFUL MESS. ( xdinary heroes )

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

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

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

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

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

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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