Marybeth

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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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This moment is significant for you, a departure from the familiar into uncharted territory. The binder and the new style represent more than just a change in wardrobe; they symbolize a step toward embracing a more authentic version of yourself. Yet, even with Jiseok’s repeated affirmations, the anxiety of stepping into this new self is palpable, a heavy weight that clings to your chest.

You cast another glance at your reflection, searching for flaws, for something that might unravel the confidence you’re trying to muster. The mirror shows a version of yourself that feels both empowering and vulnerable, a delicate balance that is hard to navigate. Each adjustment of your clothing, each smoothing of your hair, is an attempt to find comfort in this new skin, but the anxiety persists, whispering doubts into the corners of your mind.

Jiseok’s eyes, however, remain fixed on you, his amusement softened by a deep, unwavering support. His presence is a quiet counterpoint to your inner turmoil, a constant reminder that you are not alone in this journey. Though the anxiety continues to gnaw at you, the steadfastness in Jiseok’s gaze and his gentle reassurances offer a flicker of hope and a promise of acceptance.

Suddenly, your lifelong best friend and boyfriend excuses himself into your bedroom. You barely have time to wonder why before a knock on your front door interrupts your pacing. Heart racing, you sprint to answer it, only to be rendered speechless by the sight before you. While you had expected to find your friends, you hadn’t anticipated their striking transformations.

Gunil stands confidently at the forefront, his cropped top revealing a sliver of toned midriff, and his eyes accentuated by grungy makeup that sharpens his features. His bold look radiates a daring defiance, setting the tone for the unexpected ensemble before you.

Jungsu catches your eye next, sporting a mid-thigh length plaid skirt that sways slightly with his movements. His shirt is neatly tucked in, giving him a polished yet rebellious air, and his hair is adorned with colorful clips that contrast playfully with his otherwise composed appearance. The sight of Jungsu, usually so serious, embracing this vivid and whimsical style stirs a mixture of surprise and admiration within you.

Seungmin’s outfit is equally captivating, his cropped top paired with a flowing black skirt that grazes just above his knees. The eyeliner framing his eyes adds a dramatic flair, highlighting his expressive gaze. The combination of soft and edgy elements in his look mirrors the complex layers of his personality, leaving you both intrigued and impressed.

Hyeongjun, in a long denim skirt you've seen him wear before, exudes a quiet confidence. His hair is styled into a half-up, half-down look, softening his features and adding a touch of elegance to his casual attire. The familiar yet refreshed appearance of Hyeongjun brings a comforting sense of continuity amidst the surprising changes.

Finally, Jooyeon stands out with his short plaid skirt paired with fishnets, his hair styled into playful space buns. The juxtaposition of the classic plaid and daring fishnets creates a bold statement, and the space buns add a whimsical charm to his look. Jooyeon's daring fashion choice radiates a fearless confidence that resonates with your own journey of self-expression.

As you take in the sight of your friends, each embracing their unique styles with unapologetic confidence, a wave of emotion washes over you. The anxiety that had gripped you moments ago begins to melt away, replaced by a profound sense of camaraderie and support. Their bold transformations echo your own struggle and triumph in embracing your true self, reminding you that you’re not alone in this journey.

Your heart swells with gratitude and admiration for your friends, who have shown up not just in presence, but in spirit, celebrating your courage with their own. The sight of them, so different yet so authentically themselves, fortifies your resolve and fills you with a renewed sense of confidence. With a deep breath, you step forward, ready to embrace the evening with the unwavering support of your lifelong friends by your side.

"You all look amazing," you manage to say, still trying to process the vibrant array of styles before you. As they step inside, your eyes remain wide in shock and admiration. Their response is immediate and heartwarming; they shower you with genuine compliments, each remark about how handsome you look in your new style making your cheeks flush a deep crimson. The sincerity in their voices and the pride in their eyes fills you with a warmth that eases your earlier anxiety.

Just as you begin to relax into the moment, you hear Jiseok clear his throat dramatically behind you. Turning around, you gasp at the sight that meets your eyes. Jiseok stands there, still wearing the striped sweater he had on before disappearing into the bathroom, but instead of jeans, he’s now donning one of your old, long black satin dresses underneath the sweater. The elegant fabric sways slightly as he moves, creating a surprising yet strangely harmonious blend of casual and formal.

The absurdity of his outfit doesn't stop there. Perched atop his head is a plastic tiara, catching the light and adding a whimsical touch to his ensemble. His lips shimmer with glittery lip gloss, completing the playful and unexpected transformation. The sight is both ridiculous and endearing, a perfect encapsulation of Jiseok's ability to make you smile even in the most unexpected ways.

A light chuckle escapes your lips as you take in the full extent of his getup. The laughter bubbles up, mingling with the lingering remnants of your earlier anxiety, and suddenly, the room feels lighter, filled with an unspoken understanding and acceptance. You step forward, closing the distance between you and Jiseok, and press your lips against his in a tender kiss. The glitter from his lip gloss transfers slightly, adding a touch of sparkle to the intimate moment.

As you pull back, your eyes meet Jiseok's, and the look you share speaks volumes. In this small, affectionate gesture, there is an acknowledgment of the journey you've both been on, the courage it took to embrace your true self, and the unyielding support you have from him. Surrounded by your friends, all uniquely expressing themselves in your honor, and with Jiseok by your side, you feel a profound sense of belonging and love that fortifies you for whatever comes next.

Once the flurry of compliments had settled, you all made your way out the door, heading to a nearby restaurant as planned. The group walks in unison, a vibrant parade of diverse styles and unapologetic self-expression. As you move through the streets, you notice the curious and occasionally puzzled glances from strangers. However, the once-daunting stares no longer feel as terrifying with your friends and boyfriend by your side, their bold attire a testament to their unwavering support.

Gunil’s grungy makeup and cropped top, Jungsu’s plaid skirt with colorful hair clips, Seungmin’s flowing skirt and eyeliner, Hyeongjun’s elegant denim skirt and styled hair, and Jooyeon’s plaid skirt with fishnets and space buns create a striking visual that draws attention. Despite the occasional odd look, there is an undeniable sense of solidarity that envelops you, making the world feel a little less intimidating.

The endearing sight of your friends and boyfriend dressed so uniquely to support you fills your heart with warmth. Every step you take is lighter, buoyed by the camaraderie and love that surrounds you. The anxiety that had once gripped you now feels distant, replaced by a profound sense of acceptance and belonging. 

As you approach the restaurant, the looks from passersby seem less significant, their judgmental gazes overshadowed by the strength and unity of your group. Your heart swells with gratitude, knowing that these extraordinary individuals have not only embraced their own authenticity but have also empowered you to embrace yours.

The evening air feels crisp and invigorating as you walk together, and with each passing moment, the bond between you and your friends deepens. Their willingness to step out of their comfort zones and dress in a way that challenges societal norms just to support you is a testament to their love and friendship. The thought fills you with an overwhelming sense of pride and joy.

Jiseok’s hand remains firmly intertwined with yours throughout the entire walk, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the sea of emotions swirling within you. Every so often, he leans in close, his breath warm against your ear, and whispers how ridiculously handsome you look, how he can’t get over the transformation. His words are like honey, sweet and soothing, each one sinking into your heart and settling there.

He tells you how obsessed he is with you, his voice filled with a sincerity that makes your heart flutter. Each declaration of his pride in you, his honor to be your boyfriend, sends a fresh wave of warmth coursing through your veins. The intensity of his feelings is palpable, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon, and you can't help but blush profusely at each affectionate confession.

With every step, Jiseok’s grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly, a silent reassurance of his unwavering support. His presence, his whispered affirmations, create a bubble of intimacy amidst the bustling streets and curious onlookers. It’s as if the world fades away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in a moment of pure connection and love.

His words are a balm to your anxiety, each one meticulously chipping away at the insecurities that have long haunted you. The way he looks at you, with eyes brimming with adoration and pride, makes you feel seen in the most profound way. It’s not just about the clothes or the outward changes; it’s about the courage to embrace your true self, and Jiseok's endless support amplifies that courage tenfold.

Every time he leans in to murmur his adoration, your cheeks heat up, a blush spreading across your face. The sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, makes each compliment feel like the first, filling you with a sense of joy and affirmation that you hadn’t realized you needed so desperately. 

As you walk together, hand in hand, Jiseok’s unwavering support and constant reassurances weave a tapestry of love and confidence around you. His pride in you is evident in every word, every touch, and every glance. With each affectionate whisper, the bond between you strengthens, reinforcing the belief that together, you can face anything the world throws your way.

By the time you reach your destination, the anxiety that had once threatened to overwhelm you has dissipated, replaced by a profound sense of love and belonging. Jiseok’s constant reminders of how handsome you are, how proud he is of you, and how honored he feels to be your boyfriend, have fortified your spirit. Blushing and beaming, you step into the restaurant with him by your side, ready to face whatever comes next, knowing that with Jiseok's love, you are unstoppable.

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“Good morning darling,” he tells you whilst giving you a kiss on the cheek. You scoot closer to him on the bed. He takes this opportunity to snuggly pull you against his chest. 

“Good morning,” you tell him back. “Don’t you have work though? You’ve been gone before I woke up this entire week,” you state.

“Exactly, I've been deprived of my morning cuddles all this week.” He wraps his other arm around you and rocks you both side to side. A giggle erupts from your chest making Jiseok smile.

The two of you settle back down with you now resting on Jiseok’s chest as he holds you close. One of his hands absentmindedly runs through your hair.

“Is work tiring lately? Your knuckles are busted again.” You take his hand that was resting on your waist. Gently you run your fingers over his injured knuckles.

“It’s nothing darling,” he replies. Reminding you of the time you spent in his car after he saved you from getting hit by a car. Just like back then Jiseok has never told you exactly what he does for work. He always insists that it’s none of your concern. Most of the time you respect his decision to not tell you, but when comes home with busted knuckles, lips, bruises, other small injuries you can’t help but be a little concerned. 

“You always say that,” you remark. You change your hold on his hand to play with his fingers. 

“Of course I always call you darling, it’s what you are: My darling.” His words bring a smile to your face. You sit up from his chest to face him. 

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You lightly push his chest. Jiseok catches you by your wrist pulling you back down to him. 

“It’s still true though. You’re my darling.” He presses a kiss to your nose. “Mine.” He kisses your cheek. “Mine.” Then the other. “Mine.” He presses a final kiss to your lips. 

“Yeah, yours.” You press a kiss of your own onto his lips. “And your darling does have work soon, so as nice as this is…” You began to pull yourself out of his embrace once more. “I have to get ready for work,” you say. Jiseok pouts trying to reach out for you, but you're faster. 

“Calling in sick is a thing you know,” he suggested. 

“Yes I know, but my team is working on an important proposal, so I can’t today,” you tell him. Jiseok slumped back down onto the bed in disappointment. 

“Can I drop you off at least?” He sat back up.

“If you hurry up and get out of bed,” you said. 

After getting ready Jiseok and you leave the house. He opens the car door for you before walking around to the other side and getting in himself. His hand drifts down to hold yours for the ride to your workplace. “I’ll pick you up after work,” he tells you when you arrive outside of your workplace. 

“When do you not?” you joked lightly. Jiseok always made the effort to pick you up after work, so that he wouldn’t have to worry about you getting back home safely. Your safety was always his number one priority. 

“I love you,” he expresses. 

“I love you too,” you say back, leaning over to peck his cheek before getting out of the car. Jiseok watches as you walk inside before driving off and going to deal with whatever he has to get done for the day. Which more than likely involved being a bad guy to somebody, but Jiseok has proved time and time again that he will never be a bad guy to you.

part 1 part 2 part 3

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“Exactly, so you should have known better than to ask her,” Seungmin chimes. 

“I just feel like we only see her in school. I want to hang out with you y/n.” Jiseok grabs onto your arm and shakes it.

“Yeah it’s funny we only see y/n during school and only see Hyeongjun outside of it,” Seungmin chuckles. 

“Who’s Hyeongjun?” you ask, never having heard the name before. 

“Our friend who is killer at shredding the guitar. You could meet him if you come on Saturday.” Jiseok tried to persuade you. 

“I can’t I-” 

“Have dance,I know. What time does class end? Maybe you could come after.” You shake your head. 

“We have rehearsals for our summer show. I won't get out till late,” you state. 

“Well what time does it start? Maybe you could pop by before.” Jiseok tried again, not ready to give up. 

“I have a pas de deux class at five,” you  inform, shrinking into my shoulders. 

“I give up,” Jiseok throws his hands up. 

“I told you I don’t know why you bother,” Seungmin said. 

“Would it seriously kill you to miss one class?” Jiseok questioned. 

“Yes! There’s nothing worse than missing dance for me,” you say. Jiseok grumbles at your response. “Look, I have a two week break after our summer show. We can hang out then.” Jiseok perks up. 

“I’m holding you to that.” He points at you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jiseok indeed was holding you to your word. That’s how you found yourself in a small crowd of people in front of a small stage. 

“It’s kinda cramped,” you speak loudly over the music playing. 

“It’s part of the fun,” Jiseok smiles. 

Soon the lights dim and a band walks onto the stage. 

“This is Hyeongjun’s band,” Seungmin tells you. He points out which one is Hyeongjun. He had long black hair. Was wearing baggy jeans, a band tee and his fingernails were painted black. The complete opposite of your bright and feminine aesthetic. Down to your light pink fingernails.  His aura intrigued you. It seemed dark and a little mysterious. Seungmin wasn’t lying when he said he had killer guitar skills. The way his fingers moved along the strings captivated you. 

After the performance was over Jiseok and Seungmin took you to meet Hyeongjun and his band. 

“And who’s this little lady? Doesn’t really look like this is her kind of scene.” One of Hyeongjun’s band members asked. 

“Jooyeon, this is y/n.” Jiseok points at you. “Y/n this is Heyongjun and Gunil.” He points to either of the two males. 

“Nice to meet you. You guys were good,” you compliment them. 

“Really you thought they were good? You were just awkwardly standing while they were playing, so I kinda thought I made a mistake taking you out of the studio.” Jiseok says. 

“Studio?” Hyeongjun asked. 

“Oh I do ballet,” you inform. 

“Oh my god we’re punks and she does ballet!” Jooyeon joked excitedly. 

“You do look like a dancer now that you say that,” Gunil said. 

“Wait, so you can do the splits?” Jooyeon cut in. 

“Why does everybody ask that?...Yes I can do the splits,” you say. 

“Do them-”

“How long have you been dancing?” Hyeongjun cuts Jooyeon off. 

“Since I was three,” you tell him. 

“Do you have any videos?” he asked. 

“Yeah in fact we just had our summer show.” You pull out my phone to pull up the videos. “Here.” You flip your phone around to show him the video of your performance. “I’m right here.” You point to yourself. 

Just as you became captivated by Hyeongjun watching him play, Hyeongjun became captivated by you watching you dance. Seeing your delicate lines, soft flowing movements. It stirred something inside Hyeongjun’s heart. The others are quick to notice the daze-like state Hyeongjun is in as he watches you dance. Seungmin smirks, having noticed your daze-like state earlier when you were watching Hyeongjun play. 

“You look really pretty when you dance,” Hyeongjun compliments when the video ends. 

“Thanks,” you smile. “You look cool while playing guitar.” Hyeongjun smiles too 

“Thanks,” he returns. The others share glances at yours and Hyeongjun’s exchange. 

“Hyeongjun, have you ever thought about learning to ride a skateboard?” Jooyeon randomly asked. Jiseok laughs at his question. 

“Um..no. Why?” Hyeongjun responded. Jooyeon smiles. 

“Just asking.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re gonna hang out with Hyeongjun and the others this weekend. Do you want to come?” Jiseok asked. 

“I almost forgot I’m on my two-week break. I was about to say I have dance.” you laugh, so do Jiseok and Seungmin.

“So do you want to come?” Seungmin questioned. You couldn’t deny that the thought of seeing Hyeongjun again made your heart feel a certain way. 

“Sure I’ll come,” you agree. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You brought Ms.Ballerina,” Gunil notes upon your arrival. 

“She usually has dance so we’re taking full advantage of her two week break,” Jiseok says. 

“Yeah I’ve seen the outside world a lot recently,” you joke. Hyeongjun smiles. He’s happy to see you again. The bright aesthetic of your white flower blouse and pastel blue skirt feels like a breath of fresh air to him. Not that he could imagine not dressing in his punk rock aesthetic nor was he tired of it. Just something about you and how you appear to be the complete opposite of him really pulled him in towards you. 

“Talk to her.” Gunil nudged Hyeongjun, easily noticing the way he was looking at you.

“About what? I doubt that we have much in common.” 

“Just go.” Gunil literally shoves Hyeongjun over to you. Hyeongjun stumbles his way over to you. 

“Hey,” he greets you. 

“Hey,” you smile at him brightly. Your heart rate picked up a little with joy that he was talking to you. Hyeongjun tries to think about what to say to you. 

“I’m glad you came today,” he expressed.

“I am too. It’s nice to see you again,” you reply. Hyeongjun’s heart warms at your words. A silence comes over the two of you. Neither of you know quite what to say, but you remain walking side by side. 

“Do you paint your own nails?” you asked, looking down at his hand covered with black polish.

“Oh yeah I do,” he answers, bringing up his hands. 

“They look nice,” you say.

“Thanks, your pink nails look cute.” he gestures to your hands.

“What bands do you like?” you carry on with the conversation. Hyeongjun’s a bit shocked by your question. Not really expecting you to know much, if anything about bands, but he tells you nonetheless. Giving you the names of his favorite songs and bands he finds inspiration from. 

At some point you and Hyeongjun broke off from the others without even noticing. Being too caught up in learning (and falling) for one another. It wasn’t until either of your phones went off with a text from Jiseok with a picture of the two of you sitting on a bench together with the caption. “He was a punk. She did ballet” that you both realized the others were nowhere to be found. A blush brushed over both of your cheeks.

“We should find the others,” Hyeongjun said. 

“Yeah we should.”

Of course when you reunited with the others they had to tease the two of you by asking how your date went. Even though the two of you denied you both liked the thought of going on a date together. 

3 months later

“Hyeongjun!” you happily called your boyfriend as you walked out of the dance studio. His punk attire certainly sticking out amongst all the dancers also leaving the studio. He smiles, sticking out his hand for you. 

“How was class?” he asked as you linked your pink painted nails with his black ones.

“Good. I’m gonna be sore tomorrow though,” you chuckle lightly. You continue to tell Hyeongjun about your class and even if he only understands every other ballet term that comes out of your mouth he still listens to you intently. 

Yours and Hyeongjun’s personalties were polar opposites, yet somehow the two of you blended together so perfectly. You were bright and he was dark. You brought light into his life and he brought a sheltering shade into yours. It was the perfect balance. He was a punk. You did ballet. What else is there to say?

Bonus Scene

“Heyingjun come here,” you call for your boyfriend. 

“What is it?” he asked, entering the room. He sees you sitting on the bed with a bottle of pink polish out. 

“Sit down.” You pat the bed. 

“The pink is making me nervous,” he says pointing to the bottle. 

“Just a little tiny bit,” you say, making a small space between your thumb and pointer finger. 

“I don’t know,” Hyeongjun said. Yet he still lets you take his hand in yours when you reach out for it. You take the bottle of pink polish and open it. Then carefully you take the brush and paint a french tip across the black nail on Hyeongjun’s ring finger. “See just a little” you smile. 

“Let me see your hand” Hyeonjun tells you. You stick out your hand for him. Hyeongjun grabs a bottle of black nail polish then carefully uses the brush to paint a black french tip across your pink nail. “There now we match.” The two of you smile like two fools in love holding your ring fingers next to each other. Hyeongjun imagines that one day there will be a pretty ring sitting on your finger too.

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @ezlynkisses @chewednails @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin

first things first this fucking look

like come on i just wanna ruin him fr he’s just too cute to me </3 pls hear me out on this love

it was three am you found hyeongjun after the party you both were at that was shut down by the police, the boy obviously separated from his friends as he wandered the streets. you’d seen him in your lecture, even offering him small talk but nothing ever went too an extent to call you friends. he was just an associate. you two had no choice but to walk down the downtown area back to the dorms together, feeling as if you were walking in circles due to how long you and hyeongjun have been walking together.

however with hyeongjun it felt like a mere few minutes. he opens up to you like a book and spills everything to you while you just take it all in. he would’ve rather spent his saturday in his quiet dorm room reading a book or watching a romance movie, but his friends wanted him to go out and meet more people.

“i was actually dared by my friends to get “laid” tonight,” he tells you. your taken aback by his straightforwardness, but quickly recovers when he says, “whatever that means.”

“do you want me to show you?” he nods his head hesitantly, not knowing where the next half hour would lead, you grabbing his wrist and leading him to a place you know nobody would find you two.

“you can handle it, right junnie?” you whisper in hyeongjun’s ear. he breathes hot and heavy into the air, his head thrown back into the brick wall of the dark alleyway.

he’s heavy in your hands and he’s been on edge for the past five minutes, wanting nothing more than the relief of releasing, to which your mocking laugh rings through his ears. his hushed pleas carry easily in the nook for the narrow alleyway, an open window a few inches away would definitely hear and be aware of what’s going on.

he’d lock his current state in his mind and take it to his grave. if anybody found out about him whimpering under a hand that isn’t his in an alleyway, he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his friends.

you, on the other hand, wouldn’t rather be doing anything else right now. hyeongjun was perfect to you. the way his fingers curl up on the brick wall behind him. the way his hair fell out of his face. the way his skin illuminated in the moonlight mixed with the dim streetlight only meters away. the way he tries to keep quiet with every movement of your palm squeezing and stroking him. your wrist burns as a cramp slithers its way up your arm but you don’t care, you need to see hyeongjun unravel under you.

“can…can you kiss me? please?” his red lips manage to utter out, swollen from being bitten. you lean up to slot your lips between his, his hand immediately removing itself from the wall to bunch up your hair, pulling your head closer. your hand stops for a second, feeling him full on thrust into your fist, in which you tighten for his pleasure. he cries out in your mouth, his frustrating high fading away.

you pull away, hyeongjun’s glasses now crooked against his face. you giggle quietly, to which his hips stop.

“i’m sorry i’ve just never-”

“you’re fine junnie.” your free hand comes up to fix his glasses. his lips curl up into a small smile.

his cock throbs in your hand, craving for even more stimulation. you crouch down, knees hitting the dry concrete of the ground, hyeongjun’s dazed eyes watching your mouth just mere centimeters away from his cock. the tip of your tongue catches the slit and leaves kitten licks that blank hyeongjun’s mind almost instantly, his nimble fingers throwing themselves in the air, hesitant before testing out a small tug on your hair.

your chuckle leaves him unsure whether or not he’s doing something right, but he doesn’t second guess himself any longer when your mouth closes around his cock. he can’t bring himself to look down or he knows he’d cum on the spot, the sounds of you slurping vibrate through his ears tempting. it punches out a deep groan from hyeongjun, his grip in your hair tightening. the corners of your mouth stretch the more you take in, spit escaping easily from your lips and dripping onto the dark concrete of the ground, hyeongjun’s cook twitching once again in your mouth. you pull away, stroking the base of his cock with ease thanks to the spit used as lube.

“look at me.” you say just above whisper. he shakes his head, leaning it back, his adams apple bobbing up and down as he swallows thickly. “i won’t let you cum if you don’t, hyeongjun.”

his toes curl under his sneakers when your nose suddenly touches his pelvis. he’s close and he can’t even spit out a warning, his hips shallowly thrusting into your mouth and his hand attempting to hold your head still. he cries out, unconcerned of anyone in the windows above who know what’s going on at this point. he’s brought back to reality when your hands hold his thighs to keep yourself balanced and it catches his attention, hyeongjun looking down at you on instinct.

all it took was seeing his cock in your mouth and your now ruined makeup for hyeongjun to cum down your throat, easily swallowing the spurts of his cum. his hand lets go of your hair and you’re the first to pull away, hyeongjun slumping against the brick wall once you let go fully.

“think you can give me more, junnie?” your voice comes out hoarse and it makes hyeongjun’s ears burn red. he’s out of breath, and he’s trying to regain his senses so he can fully register your question, but he just answers with a nod.

your hand that guides his bigger hand underneath your skirt is what finally brings him back to reality.

hi