#ohmynabiii

[ohmynabiii]

𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 ; 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

switch!reader x dom!hyunjin

"The room thrummed with the sounds of the after-party, but none of it reached you or Hyunjin. Ever since you arrived at the premiere’s after-party, something electric had crackled between you, something raw and hungry. He stood across the room, mingling with the others, his features perfect under the dim, atmospheric lighting. The black tailored suit hugged his body just right, the slim cut highlighting his lean figure, while his hair framed his face with just the right amount of effortlessness. From the moment you entered the room, your golden dress flowing behind you, his eyes hadn’t left you."

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𝐜𝐰 : cunnilingus/female oral sex, love bites, hickies, teasing

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : romance, smut MDNI

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 4.2k

𝐚𝐧: this is definitely one of my favorite skz fic so far, hope you enjoy !! please don't hesitate to lmk what you think :)

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You could feel the weight of his gaze no matter where you were, like a touch that wasn’t quite there but burned just the same. Even through the chaos of clinking glasses and the endless hum of conversation, there was something only the two of you shared. His stare was heavy, consuming. It followed the curve of your body, lingering on the way the fabric clung to your hips, the delicate arch of your back. Every move you made seemed to send a shiver through him, his need becoming more palpable with each passing second.

Hyunjin had always been good at keeping himself composed in public. He could flash a smile and charm anyone in the room, hiding the darker, more intense parts of himself beneath a carefully curated exterior. But tonight, his mask was slipping. Every time you met his gaze, the hunger in his eyes seemed to grow deeper, more desperate. His fingers flexed at his side, his jaw tightened as if holding back the urge to come over and claim you right there in front of everyone.

You had to admit, you loved having this effect on him. The way you could make his breath hitch with just a look, the way his entire demeanor shifted when you so much as brushed past him. It was a silent game, one you both knew well. And tonight, you were playing it to perfection.

The golden dress you wore felt like liquid silk against your skin, the shimmering fabric catching the light with every movement. You had chosen it deliberately, knowing how much he loved the way you looked in gold. The neckline dipped just low enough to be daring, but not scandalous—though you knew it was enough to keep his eyes glued to you. And every time you crossed paths with him, you made sure to let him see just enough to drive him wild.

When you first brushed past him, it was subtle—your hand grazing his arm, a fleeting touch that left his skin tingling. You didn’t stop to look at him, but you could feel the tension in his body as you passed, could hear the subtle catch in his breath. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it thrilled you to watch him unravel, bit by bit.

From across the room, you’d give him those teasing, knowing smiles—the ones that sent his mind spiraling. Every time you caught his eye, the corner of your lips would curl just slightly, the glint in your eyes daring him to lose control. You leaned against the bar at one point, deliberately arching your back so he had a perfect view of the curve of your spine, the way the dress clung to your body like a second skin. You knew he was watching, could feel the heat of his gaze like a brand.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you, though. It was the small things—the subtle tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed when you were close, the way he was always just a little too quick to glance away when someone else noticed his distraction. He was trying so hard to keep his composure, but you could see the cracks forming, the desire bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

You walked past him again, this time closer, your shoulder brushing his arm as you whispered, “Enjoying the view?” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but the way his breath hitched told you everything you needed to know.

He didn’t respond at first, just stared at you with darkened eyes, his lips parted slightly as if trying to find the right words. You didn’t wait for an answer, though. Instead, you threw him one last teasing smile and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving him standing there, fists clenched, his desire written all over his face.

The game continued throughout the night, the tension between you building with every passing moment. Every glance, every subtle touch, was like adding kindling to a fire that was already burning hot. You could feel it. It was intoxicating, knowing you had this much power over him, knowing how badly he wanted you and how much he was holding himself back.

But you weren’t done yet. Not by a long shot.

The party was lively, the conversations flowing freely around you, but for you, there was only one focus. You walked past him again, trailing your fingers lightly across the back of his hand, a fleeting touch that left him visibly breathless. His jaw clenched, and you could see the struggle in his eyes—the need to maintain control, to keep up the pretense of normalcy, even as his desire threatened to consume him.

You couldn’t resist the urge to push him just a little further.

When the crowd shifted, and the paparazzi and press were distracted with some other celebrity, you made your move. You crossed the room, your golden dress flowing elegantly with each step, and stood beside him. Close enough for him to feel your presence, but still just out of reach. You leaned in, pretending to adjust something on your dress, your lips just inches from his ear.

"Patience," you whispered, the single word laced with playful defiance.

Hyunjin’s breath hitched audibly, his eyes narrowing as they met yours. His control was slipping, and you could see it in the way his chest rose and fell just a little faster, the way his hand twitched as if fighting the urge to reach out and pull you to him. But he didn’t. Not yet. Instead, he swallowed hard, his voice low and strained as he whispered back, “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You smirked, your fingers lightly grazing his wrist as you whispered, “Maybe.” 

The rest of the room seemed to blur into the background, the noise and the people fading away as the tension between you reached its breaking point. You could feel the pull between you, like a live wire crackling with electricity. And you knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

Finally, when the moment came, he didn’t hesitate.

It was quick and subtle—a break in the crowd, the cameras turned away for just a moment. His hand found yours, fingers curling around your wrist with a firm, unspoken promise. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes told you everything: he was done waiting.

Hyunjin led you through the dimly lit hallway, the music from the party growing softer behind you as he guided you toward his dressing room. His grip was strong, but not rough, his touch filled with a quiet urgency that made your heart race. The anticipation between you was palpable, each step drawing you closer to what you both had been craving all night.

The door to his dressing room clicked shut behind you, and in that instant, the world outside ceased to exist.

The second you were alone, everything changed. The careful control he had maintained throughout the night shattered, replaced by something raw and primal. His hands were on you in an instant, sliding over your waist, his touch possessive and urgent. His breath was hot against your skin, ragged and uneven as he pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?” His voice was low, rough with need, his eyes dark and intense as they searched yours.

You smiled, deliberately slow, your fingers trailing up the front of his chest as you felt the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Maybe,” you teased, your voice soft and playful, though you could feel your own pulse quickening.

Before you could say more, his lips crashed against yours, capturing them in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, desperate, as if he had been holding back for far too long and could no longer contain himself. His hands roamed your body with a frantic need, pulling you closer, pressing you against him as his lips moved over yours, deepening the kiss with each second.

His hands slid to your waist, then lower, gripping your hips as if anchoring himself to you. His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck, where he left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch. Each kiss was rougher than the last, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving marks in his wake. You gasped when he found that sensitive spot just below your ear, your hands tightening in his hair as a low moan escaped your lips.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and shaky as he pressed a soft kiss just below your ear. “I’ve wanted you all night. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” The way he looked at you, filled with a desperate yearning, made your heart race.

“I was just trying to have a little fun,” you replied coyly, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you arched into him.

His eyes darkened even more at your teasing words, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned in. “Oh, so that’s what you call this, fun,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “You’ve been driving me insane all night.” He dipped down to your collarbone, pressing his lips against the sensitive flesh with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I can’t get enough of you, you know that?” His voice was thick with desire, a promise laced within his words. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Your gaze is drawn to the unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric of his tailored suit pants, a potent testament to his desire that sends a thrill coursing through you. A teasing smile curves your lips as you lean in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whisper, “I have some idea…”

In a heartbeat, he shoves you against the vanity, the cool surface biting into your skin, a delicious contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His hands grip your waist, anchoring you in place as he leans in, his lips brushing against your neck before trailing down to your collarbone. Each kiss is both urgent and tender, his mouth exploring every inch of exposed skin as if he were savoring a fine delicacy. The sensations ignite delicious shivers that dance across your body, stoking the simmering fire within you.

With a swift, possessive motion, he turns you around, his fingers tangling in your hair, gently pulling it aside to reveal the soft curve of your back. The air thickens with tension, the silence amplifying every sound as his warm breath caresses your skin. He kisses a slow, deliberate path down your spine, each touch igniting a spark that pulls you closer to the precipice of your desires.

As he reaches the zipper of your dress, he undresses you with his teeth, his lips grazing the fabric with tantalizing precision. The way he nips gently at the material, tugging it down with both skill and hunger, sends your heart racing faster than you thought possible. The anticipation coils tight within you, your breath hitching as the fabric slips down your body, leaving your skin exposed to his fervent attention.

His tongue glides along the delicate line of your spine, trailing warmth that ignites a feverish heat throughout your body. You instinctively arch into him, feeling his presence envelop you as he plants soft love bites along the curve of your ass. Each mark sends waves of pleasure through you, intensifying the need that swirls between you. You can feel his smile against your skin, the satisfaction of marking you evident in the way he savors every inch, his grip on your hips both possessive and passionate.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice thick with longing, sending fresh shivers racing down your spine as his lips roam across your skin. His hands explore the soft curves of your body, fingers trailing over your thighs and back as if he is memorizing every contour, every dip and curve that belongs to him. The blend of his gentle touches and the raw urgency of his kisses sends your head spinning, your heart pounding with anticipation.

As he presses closer, the heat radiating from his body melds with the desire surging through your body, creating an electric tension that fills the air. The weight of his gaze is intense and hungry, like a flame fueling the fire within you, pushing you to surrender completely to the passion that pulses between you.

You feel him pull away momentarily, the sudden absence of his warmth sending a jolt of disappointment through you. But it’s quickly replaced by a gasp as you feel the hot, thick stripe of his tongue glide over your clothed folds. The contact is electrifying, and you can’t help but moan at the delicious sensation, arching your back into his touch. “Fuck, Hyunjin,” you breathe, the heat pooling deep within you.

But he pulls away again, leaving you with an annoyed grunt that mingles frustration and desperation. It’s as if he relishes the power he has over you, and before you can fully process the loss, he dives back in, trailing heated kisses along the back of your thigh. His lips are soft yet demanding, kissing a path that sends tingling sensations racing through you. Each kiss is deliberate, almost worshipful, as he takes his time, savoring every inch of your skin. You can feel the warmth of his mouth leaving lingering heat in its wake, igniting your senses.

He kisses the sensitive skin just above your knee, biting gently before sucking, creating a mark that will serve as a reminder of this moment. You’re overwhelmed, breath hitching as he moves further up your thigh, his mouth trailing soft, lingering kisses that seem to melt into your very core. The sensation is intoxicating, a mix of urgency and tender adoration that makes you tremble with need. 

As he lavishes attention on your left thigh, he becomes more fervent, leaving behind a flurry of hickeys—dark red and pink spots blooming beneath his teasing mouth. Each one feels like a brand, a claim he’s making on you, and you can’t help but squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding your body. His kisses are deep and possessive, punctuated by gentle bites that send jolts of pleasure shooting through your veins. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the anticipation building within you as he teases and torments, drawing you closer to the brink of madness.

When he finally finishes with your left thigh, he leans in to stripe a slow, deliberate lick just beside your clit, and your breath hitches as you feel the heat radiating from his mouth. His breath is hot against your most sensitive spot, and you groan, a mixture of annoyance and need flooding your system. “You’re driving me crazy,” you whimper, the words barely escaping as desire envelops you like a warm blanket.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through your body and sending ripples of pleasure coursing through you, but it only ignites your hunger further. “Patience, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with seduction, and you can’t help but regret the way you toyed with him earlier in the night. The tide of need surging within you is overwhelming, and every fiber of your being craves him.

With tantalizing slowness, he eases his attention to your other thigh, his lips brushing over the skin with feather-light kisses, sending shivers of anticipation rippling through you. He plants soft kisses along your ass as he glides past, his mouth warm and inviting. As he shifts his focus, you can feel the intensity of his desire, a palpable energy that heightens your own.

He begins to explore your other thigh, his mouth creating a trail of heated kisses that bloom into marks like the ones on the other side. His lips dance over your skin, each press of his mouth igniting fresh waves of desire. He bites gently, leaving behind an array of hickeys, the combination of pain and pleasure making you gasp. You can feel the pressure building within you as he laps at your skin, his tongue warm and teasing.

“Hyunjin,” you moan, frustration spilling over in your voice as he draws out the moment, taking his time to savor every inch of your thighs. You’re dripping through your underwear now, the damp fabric clinging to you as you let out soft, frustrated sighs and groans, your body begging for more. 

He continues his relentless assault, alternating between teasing kisses and gentle bites, his mouth working its magic, leaving behind marks that tell the world who you belong to. The sensations are overwhelming, a dizzying mix of pleasure and impatience as he makes his way back up your thigh, his tongue swirling against your skin with a deliberate slowness that drives you wild.

You’re shaking with need, every touch igniting a fire that burns brighter with each passing moment. The anticipation is almost unbearable, and the sounds of your breathy whimpers fill the room, mixing with the soft, wet sounds of his mouth against your skin. 

But just as the anticipation reaches a boiling point, and you start to think he has no intention of giving you what you crave, he surprises you with a deep kiss directly onto your clit. The sensation jolts through you, and you jump, a moan escaping your lips as your ass instinctively presses against his face. He buries himself in your wet heat, sucking your underwear into his mouth, savoring the taste of your juices that have soaked through the fabric. 

You can hear the soft sound of his moan as he relishes your essence, breathing in the intoxicating scent that envelops you both. In a surge of urgency, he rips your underwear down, the fabric tearing away to expose your longing. Instantly, his tongue is on you, licking through your folds with fervor, the warmth of his mouth sending shockwaves up your spine. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking it with a delicious pressure that has you gasping, your body arching toward him as you feel the heat building within.

“Don’t stop,” you groan, your eyes rolling back as pure pleasure washes over you when you feel his fingers slip inside you. But instead of finding a rhythm like he usually would, he simply leaves them inside, teasingly still as he showers kisses on your inner thighs, making you writhe in desperation.

With every gentle kiss he plants, your frustration grows, a mix of pleasure and impatience flooding your veins. You instinctively try to press your hips back, seeking more friction, more of him. But he responds with a firm grip, pressing you further into the cool surface of the vanity with his other hand. You let out another desperate “fuck,” the sound barely contained as you grasp the edge of the table, your fingers digging into the wood for support.

Your legs shake, threatening to give out under the delicious strain of need. The sensation of his fingers buried deep inside you, coupled with the relentless assault of his mouth, sends you spiraling. The heat pooling in your core intensifies, every flick of his tongue and press of his fingers driving you closer to insanity. You’re lost in a haze of sensation, each moment stretching out as the pleasure ebbs, leaving you gasping for release.

“Hyunjin, please,” you plead, your voice shaky with desire, craving more of his touch, more of everything. But he just chuckles softly against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, igniting the fire that burns even brighter. 

He responds to your plea with a sultry grin, the corners of his mouth quirking up as if he enjoys the power he holds over you. “You want more, baby?” he teases, his breath hot against your glistening folds, sending shivers down your spine. Without waiting for an answer, he dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit with tantalizing precision, sending you tumbling deeper into the bliss he’s creating. The sensations are overwhelming, a mix of heat and urgency that makes your heart race. Each flick of his tongue ignites a spark, and you can feel the familiar coil of pleasure tightening within you, threatening to snap at any moment.

He picks up the pace, alternating between sucking your clit and plunging his tongue into you, each movement more fervent than the last. Your moans fill the dressing room, echoing off the walls as you lose yourself in the rhythm he creates. The pressure builds with every deliberate motion, and you feel yourself spiraling closer to the edge, a dizzying mix of pleasure and need. His fingers, still buried deep inside you, finally begin to move, curling and pressing against that perfect spot as he pushes you further.

“Hyunjin, I’m—” you gasp, unable to finish your thought as the waves of pleasure crash over you, each one stronger than the last. You can feel the heat pooling low in your belly, a tidal wave of sensation that threatens to overwhelm you. He hums against you, and it only serves to heighten your need. The world around you fades, leaving only the sweet sound of your breathing and the exquisite taste of him.

“Let go, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with desire. The command ignites something deep within you, and with a final, desperate thrust of his fingers and a flick of his tongue, you shatter. The pleasure floods through you, white-hot and all-consuming, as you scream his name, the sound spilling from your lips as your body quakes in ecstasy. He doesn’t let up, riding you through the waves of your climax, each aftershock sending you higher as he keeps you teetering on the edge of bliss, leaving you breathless and utterly spent.

As the last waves of pleasure ripple through you, you slowly come back to reality, your breath still heavy and uneven. Hyunjin softly pulls away as you turn to face him, his gentle hands helping guide you around. You feel a rush of warmth as he looks up at you, a mixture of satisfaction and adoration reflected in his darkened gaze. He leans in, planting tender kisses along your thighs, lingering on each mark he left behind.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and warm, laced with concern. His fingers find your waist, stroking gentle patterns on your skin, grounding you in the afterglow. You nod, a smile breaking across your face as you catch your breath, feeling cherished and adored. 

“More than okay,” you reply, the thrill of pleasure still dancing in your veins. He grins, that beautiful, playful smile that never fails to make your heart flutter, and you can’t help but reach out, cupping his face and pulling him closer for a sweet kiss. It’s soft and lingering, filled with the warmth of shared intimacy, a stark contrast to the heated passion of just moments before.

Hyunjin wraps his arms around you, pulling you against him as he leans back against the vanity, his warmth enveloping you. You melt into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you both take a moment to bask in the aftermath. The room feels quiet and safe, the chaos of the party outside a distant memory.

“You had me a little worried there,” he murmurs, fingers brushing through your hair as he looks down at you, his eyes softening. “I’ve never seen you so needy before..” 

You laugh softly, the sound light and airy, your heart swelling with affection for him. “Only for you,” you tease, lifting your head to meet his gaze, feeling a new wave of warmth flood your cheeks. “I didn’t know you could be so… intense.” 

“Only for you,” he replies, matching your tone, but sincerity rings in his voice. He brushes a thumb over your cheek, his touch gentle and tender. You can’t help but lean into his touch, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

After a few quiet moments, he reaches down and gathers your underwear from the floor, a playful glint in his eyes. “You might want these back,” he says, smirking as he tosses them to you. You laugh, the sound echoing lightly in the room, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Thanks,” you say, shaking your head but grinning as you slip them back on, feeling the soft fabric against your skin. He watches you, a satisfied smile on his lips, as if he’s just completed a masterpiece. 

“Should we get back out there?” he asks, his tone teasing but laced with warmth. You nod, feeling the lingering effects of your climax settle into a comfortable hum within you.

“We could…” You meet his gaze with a soft smile, “But I think rumors might spread about the K-pop idol with a hard-on at the afterparty.” You gesture to his pants, and he looks down with a laugh, a flush creeping into his cheeks as he adjusts himself.

“Yeah, I might need to do something about that,” he replies, an impish glint in his eyes. 

You smirk, leaning closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “How about I return the favor?” His eyes widen, the playful warmth shifting into something more heated as he locks onto your gaze, the tension between you thickening once again. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” he murmurs, a teasing grin spreading across his face. The night is far from over, and you both know it.

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🦋

[ohmynabiii]

"𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬" ; 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

switch!reader, switch!jisung, dom!minho 18+

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 :

This story takes place in a consensual polyamorous relationship where all boundaries have been clearly discussed and respected. Every action, whether implied or explicit, adheres to that understanding.

The depiction of Minho and Jisung in a relationship here is purely fictional and does not reflect their real-life dynamics. Their bond inspired this fictional exploration, but no assumptions are made about their personal lives.

𝐜𝐰 : unprotected sex, consensual poly relationship, mild intoxication, mostly vanilla, slow-burn (ish?), oral sex (f x m receiving), fluffy aftercare MDNI

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 5.3k

— 

"You know you shouldn’t. It’s reckless, wrong even. But when Minho's gaze catches yours, his eyes smoldering with that wicked promise—God, those eyes—you’re already lost, too far gone to stop."

The night is unfolding like a dream, spilling into the quiet warmth of a cozy tteokbokki shop, the kind of place where time seems to slow down. The scent of spicy rice cakes fills the air, mingling with the soft hum of laughter and conversation. Hours slip by unnoticed, the nine of you caught up in the easy rhythm of good food, drinks, and playful banter.  

Your senses blur under the gentle haze of alcohol, warmth pooling in your chest, but something more dangerous simmers beneath the surface. It starts when Minho’s fingers brush your thigh, his touch deliberate, subtle enough to go unnoticed by the others but charged with intent. Sparks dance across your skin, igniting a heat that lingers, no matter how much you try to ignore it.

Jisung, sitting close to you, is equally affected. You feel the way his body leans into yours, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm as if he can’t bear the distance. His soft, comforting presence intoxicates you, a slow burn that contrasts the teasing flame Minho has set alight. He’s been stealing glances at you throughout the evening, noticing the way Jisung’s eyes darken each time the scent of your perfume floods his senses, stirring something primal within him. Minho has a way of driving you both crazy, letting you and Jisung feed off of each other’s need as he watches you both unfold.

And now, with Minho’s dark eyes locked onto yours across the restaurant table, you feel the weight of Jisung’s body shift beside you, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your arm. You know what’s coming before either of them makes a move. It’s inevitable. Dangerous. And utterly impossible to resist…

"Hello~" A waving hand in front of your face snaps you slightly out of your haze. You blink and see Chan grinning at you from across Jisung. "Earth to lovebirds," he teases, the playful lilt in his voice cutting through the trance. You shake your head, but your gaze still lingers on Minho for a moment longer, catching the faint chuckle he’s trying to suppress as it tugs at the corner of his lips. 

You offer Chan a dazed, “Hmm?” but the flush creeping up your cheeks betrays you as you realize the entire table has their eyes on you. Felix and Hyunjin tilt their heads, their curiosity evident, and you can’t help but shrink into yourself in embarrassment. How long had you been lost in Minho’s gaze? Five minutes? Ten? Your teeth worry your bottom lip, the heat in your face now burning as you catch sight of the gentle smirk playing on Minho’s lips.

"I just asked you a question, but something tells me you weren’t paying attention..." Chan continues, his tone light but knowing. He repeats himself, his smile widening as he teases, “The rest of us are heading to karaoke. Do you three want to come along or are you planning on heading back to the dorms?”

From beside Minho, Changbin giggles, finishing the last of his drink. “Something tells me her answer’s going to be the latter.” His eyes flick to Jisung, and you realize just how tightly Jisung’s grip has become around your arm, his body pressing closer into yours. He’s nuzzling into the curve of your neck, the warmth of his breath tickling your skin as he drunkenly inhales your scent, mumbling something soft and incoherent, lost in the comfort of your presence.

Minho leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low, almost seductive tease. “What do you want to do, Y/Nie?” The way he draws out your name sends a shiver through you. There’s a faint rasp in his voice, a drip of lust that makes your heart race. Every syllable feels like a promise, and the dark gleam in his eyes only heightens the tension that’s been simmering between the three of you all night.

You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. Part of you wants to climb across the table, close the distance, and taste his lips—desperate for the connection as if you need it to breathe. And you know you’re not alone. You feel the way Jisung shivers beside you, second-handedly affected by Minho’s teasing just as much as you are, his body reacting involuntarily to the sultry pull of Minho’s voice. 

It takes every ounce of your self-control, but you manage to croak out, “Jisung and I are pretty tired… I think we’re gonna head back.” It’s not a complete lie—both of you feel the weight of exhaustion from the lively evening—but sleep isn’t what you have in mind. A thrill courses through you as you catch Minho’s knowing smirk, a promise of the night to come. “I’ll join you,” he states, his plump bunny lips curling mischievously. His gaze stays locked on yours, and your heart flutters with anticipation, each beat echoing with desire.

Chan, sensing the electric tension in the air, has his cheeks tinged with a slight rosy hue. He clears his throat awkwardly, a subtle reminder of the charged atmosphere. “Okay, then. Shall we go?” 

The next twenty minutes blur by in a haze of longing. The entire car ride is consumed by thoughts of Minho and Jisung, your mind racing with the whispered promises Minho has been teasing into your ear since the night began. Each passing moment builds the anticipation, igniting a fire in your core that only they can satisfy.

As soon as you enter the dorms, before Minho can even fully close the door, Jisung is on you. He slams his lips into yours in a desperate, messy kiss that takes you by surprise. The world outside fades as your back meets the wall, and you melt into him, his hands finding their way to your hips, anchoring you against him. You sigh into the kiss, lost in the warmth of his embrace. 

From behind you, you hear Minho calmly removing his shoes, a serene contrast to the intensity of the moment. But soon, Jisung is pulled away from you with a soft whimper of protest, his longing evident. Minho steps closer, his gaze piercing into yours, deeper than it’s been all night, pupils blown wide with lust and hunger. The air thickens with an unspoken need, and you can feel the heat radiating off him. 

He gently cradles your neck, his fingers brushing the quivering skin just below your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. As he leans in, his lips find yours, and he pulls you into a deep, sensual kiss that contrasts sharply with Jisung’s fiery urgency. Minho’s kiss is languid and deliberate, each movement laced with a tender intensity that feels rare and precious. You feel yourself melting into him, the world outside fading completely as he takes his time exploring the depths of your desire.

His hands slide down from your neck to the small of your waist, thumbs tracing soothing circles on your skin, easing the tension in your body. But just as your hips start to grind slowly against him, he shifts. In one swift motion, Minho pushes you firmly against the wall, halting your movements with a dominance that drags a choked gasp from your lips. The sudden change from tenderness to control sends a shockwave through your body, igniting something deeper in both of you. You can feel it—the rush of electricity coursing through Minho, matching the frantic beat of your own heart.

For a moment, the only thing grounding you is the heavy, tantalizing pressure of his bulge pressing against your thigh, sending your mind spinning. But before you can revel in it, Minho pulls away, the loss of his touch leaving you breathless. His hands fall from your body as he steps back, not sparing a glance as he immediately finds Jisung’s waist, pulling him in with an urgency you recognize. 

In an instant, his lips crash into Jisung’s, the same passion that had held you moments before now transferred to him, leaving you watching in a daze as they fall into each other, their need palpable and raw. 

Minho's hand snakes down Jisung’s chest, pausing just long enough to graze over his hardened nipples. The brief contact draws a sharp hiss from Jisung, his back arching slightly in response. But Minho’s touch doesn’t linger there—he continues downward, his fingers gliding over heated skin until they settle over the painful bulge in Jisung’s jeans. The moment Minho presses his palm firmly against the tented fabric, a ragged breath escapes Jisung’s lips, his body shuddering at the intense pressure.

Jisung’s been aching ever since he caught sight of Minho’s hand on your thigh earlier in the night, the scene sparking a relentless need that’s only grown stronger. Minho's firm grip presses harder, making his head snap back, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as the sudden surge of pleasure washes through him, overwhelming and all-consuming. The air between them is thick with desire, and every shift of Minho's hand has Jisung spiraling further, his control slipping away with each passing second.

Minho doesn’t miss a beat, using the opportunity to trail sloppy, heated kisses down Jisung’s neck, his lips moving with purpose. Each kiss grows more intense, sucking and biting at the skin until he finds that one spot, the sensitive area that makes Jisung’s cries louder, more desperate. His hips buck involuntarily into Minho’s hand, seeking more friction, more of that intoxicating contact.

The scene playing out in front of you is practically pornographic—Jisung writhing under Minho’s skilled touch, his body arching with every grind of his hips, while Minho licks deliberate stripes along his jawline, savoring every reaction. Minho’s other hand tangles in Jisung’s dark, messy hair, gripping just enough to keep him grounded as their heated exchange escalates. The tension between them pulls you in, a heady mix of lust and intensity that leaves you breathless, unable to look away. 

You can’t help yourself. The heat between them pulls you in like a current, sweeping you under. Your hand slips beneath your dress, fingers ghosting over the skin of your thigh in the same way Minho’s had earlier in the night, igniting a familiar, smoldering fire. The memory of his touch lingers on your skin as you mimic the slow, deliberate motion, your breath catching in your throat. 

Your other hand finds its way to your breast, cupping it gently at first, before the need intensifies and you squeeze, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core. Your body reacts instinctively, your hips shifting, grinding ever so slightly against nothing as you become lost in the moment. Watching Minho’s hand on Jisung, the way their bodies move together in sync, only fuels the growing ache inside you. You can feel the wet heat between your legs building, your breath quickening as you lose yourself in the desire that’s been steadily simmering all night. 

Just as suddenly as Minho had pulled away from you, he tears himself from Jisung, his gaze snapping in your direction. His eyes are half-lidded, heavy with lust, and the second they land on you—hand slipping under your dress, the other massaging your breast, your bottom lip trembling with desire—something in him snaps. Without a word, he strides over, his grip firm as he grabs your hips and pulls you away from the wall with a force that makes your breath hitch.

“Bedroom, now,” he commands, his voice a low growl, dripping with need. The air crackles with tension as his fingers dig into your skin, the urgency of the moment sending shivers down your spine. You barely have time to steady yourself before you're being guided towards the bedroom, Jisung trailing behind with wobbly legs, still dazed and flushed, but eager to follow. You can feel your pulse quicken with every step, your anticipation reaching a fever pitch. You need Minho, and you need Jisung. 

Minho’s grip on your hips remains steady as he turns you to face him in the dim light of the bedroom, his eyes dark with desire. The air feels electric, each breath heavy with unspoken promises. Jisung stumbles slightly into the room, his hands finding their way to your waist from behind you, anchoring himself to you as if he needs that connection to ground him. He interlocks his fingers with Minho’s on your waist, a silent signal of unity, before leaning in to place gentle yet needy kisses along the back of your neck.

As Jisung’s warm lips press against your skin, you feel him brush your hair aside, tucking it gently over your shoulder. The soft caress of his fingers against your neck sends shivers down your spine, heightening your senses. He takes his time, savoring the moment, the way your hair falls away to expose your bare skin, making you feel both vulnerable and cherished. Minho watches the scene unfold, his gaze intense, as Jisung continues to pepper your neck with kisses, each one igniting a fire deep within you, drawing you further into the intoxicating atmosphere of the moment.

Minho leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a teasing whisper, just a breath away. “Do you want to keep going?” he murmurs, his voice thick with anticipation. You nod, your heart racing, knowing that tonight will blur the lines of your desires in ways you’ve only dreamed of. The warmth of their bodies surrounds you, and as Minho’s mouth captures yours in a deep, hungry kiss, you lose yourself in the sensation yet again, your body aching in their arms.

The feeling of being surrounded by warmth from your two lovers is intoxicating, a heady mix of comfort and desire that sends your heart racing. Jisung's movements behind you are deliberate as he grinds his hips against your ass and places wet kisses on your neck, the delicious friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can feel his need pressing against you, urging you to let go of any lingering hesitation. Meanwhile, Minho hovers above you, his lips capturing yours in a deep kiss, his tongue teasingly exploring your mouth. 

When Jisung whimpers behind you, it sends a jolt of desire racing through your veins, leaving you breathless. You pull away from Minho’s lips just long enough to whisper a choked, “I need you,” your voice trembling with urgency. The words hang in the air, thick with longing, before you sink back into the warmth of Minho’s kiss, your lips moving together with a fervor that feels both desperate and electric.

Minho responds with a low growl, his hands exploring your curves as he guides you and Jisung toward the bed. You can almost see the gears turning in his head, a mix of determination and desire igniting in his eyes. He pulls away from your addictive lips, his breath heavy, before turning to Jisung. “Lay back,” he instructs, his tone commanding yet filled with an undeniable warmth.

Jisung complies without hesitation, settling onto the bed with a soft thud, his gaze fixed on you with an expression that’s both hungry and affectionate. Minho then turns you around, his hands firm on your waist as he pushes you gently but decisively atop Jisung. The weight of your body sinks onto him, legs on either side of his waist, and you feel the heat radiating between you. The only way you can think to describe him at this moment is utterly sexy. His hair is tousled, wild from when Minho gripped it, strands clinging to his forehead with a sheen of sweat. Jisung’s eyes are half-lidded, dark pools filled with desire, his pupils blown wide with need. Each breath he takes is deep and ragged, his chest rising and falling in a rhythm that mirrors the growing tension in the room. There's a raw vulnerability in his expression, paired with an undeniable hunger that sends a thrill racing through you. The combination of his disheveled appearance and the longing etched across his face makes it impossible to look away, igniting a fire within you that begs to be explored.

His fingers curl into your hips, anchoring you further down on his abdomen, a breathy “fuck” escaping his lips when your ass presses down against his rock-hard dick. The sound sends a thrill through you, igniting your own desire. As his needy hands tug at the hem of your dress, you take the hint and quickly peel it off, tossing the fabric carelessly across the room. Your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt, a rush of anticipation flooding you until his entire torso is exposed, revealing the taut muscles beneath.

It isn’t long before Minho’s desperation for both of you overwhelms him. He positions himself behind you, grinding your hips down on Jisung harder, the friction sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through all three of you. Jisung moans loudly, his hands flying to cover his mouth as the sensation becomes too much. Minho grins at the sound, repeating the movement again and again, establishing a steady rhythm that drives you wild. He leans forward, fully pressing his body against your back, adding to the mounting pressure on Jisung’s throbbing hard-on. Minho’s warm breath tickles your skin as he sloppily kisses along your spine, only stopping to unclip your bra with his teeth before continuing down your back. 

Jisung helps you remove the rest of your bra, taking a moment to unabashedly stare at your bare tits, his eyes wide with appreciation before he leans in to massage the sensitive skin around your nipple. A whimper escapes your lips as your head thrashes back at the sensation, instinctively leaning into his touch as pleasure courses through you. Just as the pace of your movements begins to increase, Minho stills your hips with his hands, pulling away from your back to rip off his shirt. He leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he lowly whispers, “Kiss him, baby.”

It takes you less than two seconds to obey; you smash your lips into Jisung’s, pouring all your need into the kiss. Minho’s hands glide around from behind you, assisting Jisung in massaging your breasts, his touch igniting every nerve ending. Your fingers reach down between the two of you, deftly unbuttoning Jisung’s strained jeans before carefully tugging down the zipper.

Jisung’s breath hitches as you push his jeans down just enough to reveal the tantalizing outline of his hard length straining against his black underwear. The heat radiating off him is intoxicating, and you can’t resist the urge to run your fingers along the taut fabric, feeling the urgency beneath. Jisung’s hands tighten on your hips, urging you closer. He pulls away from your lips, only slightly, to watch you with wide, pleading eyes, filled with both lust and adoration.

Minho, still hovering close, takes the opportunity to lean down and capture your lips in another heated kiss, his tongue dancing with yours as the thrill of your actions heightens the tension in the room. You can feel Jisung shifting beneath you, his need pressing against you as you tease him, the pressure building with each gentle touch. 

With a soft gasp, you pull away from Minho’s lips, locking eyes with Jisung as you slowly slide his briefs down. His cock springs free, hard and glistening with pre-cum, slapping lightly against his stomach as the cool air hits his skin, drawing a sharp hiss from him. The sight sends a surge of heat through you, your pulse quickening at the raw need in his expression. Minho chuckles low in your ear, the sound dripping with satisfaction at Jisung’s reaction, still pressed against your back, his own erection straining against his tight jeans.

Your hand finds its way to Jisung’s leaking tip as Minho slides your soaked lingerie down your thighs. The moment your fingers make contact with Jisung’s sensitive skin, both of you gasp in unison—your bodies mirroring the shared rush of sensation. His cock stands firm against his stomach, the perfect shade of flushed pink, glistening with pre-cum that drips steadily from the slit. He’s not the biggest, but he’s beautifully shaped—thick enough to stretch you perfectly, with a slight upward curve that promises to hit all the right spots. Veins run along the length, pulsing under your touch, adding to the appeal as you twirl your thumb over his tip, spreading the slickness down his shaft.

Jisung’s chest rises and falls rapidly, his breath catching in his throat as your hand continues its teasing motions. Each gentle stroke causes his hips to twitch involuntarily, the need in his eyes growing with every passing second. Behind you, Minho’s hands caress your hips, and you feel him slowly sink down, placing a couple scattered kisses just above the curve of your ass. 

And then you gasp, followed by a sharp moan, your grip instinctively tightening around Jisung's cock, making him whimper as your fingers curl around his length. The sensation shoots through him, his eyes fluttering shut in pleasure, but your attention quickly snaps to the heat blooming in your core as Minho presses his tongue flat against your throbbing clit. The sudden, electrifying contact sends a jolt through your body, causing your hips to buck back into Minho’s eager mouth, your back arching in response.

He works you expertly, his tongue swirling in slow, deliberate circles, flicking and sucking in just the right rhythm to make your knees weak. Jisung groans at the increased pressure from your hand on his cock, his hips jerking upward as your body reacts to Minho's relentless teasing. The sounds of wetness and muffled groans fill the air, a symphony of desire building between the three of you as Minho continues his assault, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The intensity of both sensations—Jisung pulsing in your grip and Minho’s skillful tongue driving you mad—has you teetering on the brink of release, your breath coming in ragged gasps as pleasure threatens to overwhelm you. But then, just as the tension coils tight inside you, Minho pulls away, his lips returning to yours. The sudden loss of his touch makes you whine in frustration, but the second you taste yourself on his tongue, it sends a shockwave through your body. The kiss is hot, filthy in the best way, making your entire body twitch with arousal. 

You’re lost in the sensation until Jisung gasps beneath you, breaking the kiss. His voice is a desperate whimper, filled with need. “Please,” he breathes out, his words dripping with lust, “Please… fuck~ sit on my cock. Need to… feel you.” You pull back slightly, your eyes meeting Jisung’s pleading gaze before you glance up at Minho, silently asking for permission. His lips curve into a satisfied smirk as he watches you, dark eyes burning with approval. With a subtle nod, Minho gives you what you need, his hands still resting on your hips as you turn your attention back to Jisung. 

Heart pounding, you position yourself over him, your fingers wrapping around the base of his cock as you hover just above. The anticipation is overwhelming, the feeling of Minho’s eyes on you, Jisung’s needy breath against your skin, and the ache between your legs making you burn with desire. Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, the stretch of his length filling you inch by inch, and both of you moan in unison at the sheer bliss of the connection.

“Fuck, you’re both so hot like this,” Minho nearly moans beside you, his voice thick with arousal. “Fucking in front of me like that.”

His words alone send a pulse of heat through your body, making you grind down harder onto Jisung, who lets out a strangled moan beneath you. The friction between your bodies, paired with Minho’s husky voice, reignites the pooling heat in your abdomen. The pressure inside you builds quickly as you roll your hips, each movement drawing you deeper onto Jisung’s cock, the slick, desperate grind fueling the heat pooling in your core.

It’s as if the tension in Minho’s jeans becomes unbearable all at once, watching you two grind into each other as if your life depended on it. In a matter of seconds, he strips down in one swift motion, tearing off his pants and boxers in a single move until he’s fully naked in front of you. The sight of him—completely exposed, his thick cock standing proudly—makes your breath hitch. It’s bigger than Jisung’s, longer and slightly girthier, with a perfectly smooth shaft and a slightly brownish tip that’s flushed with arousal. The sight is mesmerizing, and your body reacts instantly, your hips moving faster as you grind harder onto Jisung, desperate for more.

Minho pumps his length twice, slow and deliberate, as if just trying to relieve some of the pressure. His hand glides over it, veins bulging slightly as he strokes himself, the tip dripping. Then, with a wicked grin, he crawls over Jisung’s head, positioning himself so close that Jisung has no choice but to tilt his chin up. The whole scene—Minho’s throbbing cock just inches from Jisung’s mouth, your hips moving desperately against Jisung—sends a ripple of electricity through you, making you ride Jisung even harder. The overwhelming sensation of both of your lovers intertwined like this has you trembling with need, your body pushing closer and closer to the edge. 

“Suck,” Minho commands, his voice filled with authority but cracking slightly with how long he’s been left untouched. Jisung doesn't hesitate for a second. His hands fly to Minho’s shaft, wrapping around the thick base, the contrast between his pale fingers and the darker, flushed tip making the sight all the more intoxicating. With a shaky breath, Jisung licks a stripe from the base to the head, his tongue swirling around the tip before he finally takes Minho into his mouth.

The sight is enough to make your knees weak, and the second Jisung’s lips close around Minho, you can’t help but clench around the man under you. The dual sensations of Jisung’s hardness inside you and the intense visual of him submitting to Minho has you teetering on the edge of control. You feel every twitch of Jisung’s body beneath you as he moans around Minho’s length, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through both of you. 

Minho’s head tilts back in pleasure, his hand coming to rest on the back of Jisung’s head, gently guiding him, setting a slow rhythm as Jisung bobs his head up and down. The sight of your two lovers, tangled in this beautiful, erotic scene, pushes you to ride Jisung even faster, your breath coming out in shallow gasps as the pressure inside you threatens to break.

The heat in the room intensifies, the sounds of ragged breaths and moans filling the space as you lose yourself in the rhythm. Your body moves instinctively, his cock twitching inside you as you feel him getting closer. The friction, the pressure, the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins—it’s all too much. You tilt your head back, your mouth falling open in a silent cry as your orgasm crashes over you, your body trembling and tightening around Jisung. 

Jisung feels you clench, and it pushes him over the edge. His hands grip your hips tighter, holding you in place as he thrusts up into you one last time. A deep, throaty moan escapes his lips as he spills into you, his body shaking beneath you. The sensation of his release only adds to the intensity of your own, sending aftershocks rippling through your limbs.

Above him, Minho lets out a guttural groan as Jisung's mouth works harder, taking him deeper. His grip tightens in Jisung’s hair, his hips stuttering forward as his own orgasm builds. With one final thrust, Minho tips over the edge, spilling into Jisung’s mouth with a low growl. Jisung’s lips remain locked around him, taking everything Minho gives, the sight of it so obscene and beautiful that it makes your legs quiver.

Minho lingers for a moment, watching the younger swallow every last drop, making sure he takes it all in before finally letting go. With a satisfied hum, he collapses onto the bed beside Jisung, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. The room is thick with the scent of sex and the quiet aftermath of shared release.

You slump against Jisung’s chest, his spent cock still twitching inside you. The oversensitivity sends a soft whine from your lips, your body trembling as the high slowly ebbs away. Jisung, ever tender in these moments, wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace as he presses soft, reassuring kisses to your forehead. “Shh, baby,” he whispers, his voice laced with exhaustion but full of affection. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Minho rolls onto his side, his hand immediately finding its way to your back, drawing soothing circles as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “You did so good,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and full of warmth. He brushes your hair back from your face, his fingers gentle as they trail through your strands, a silent gesture of care.

Jisung slowly pulls out of you, both of you wincing slightly at the oversensitivity. Minho watches with a soft smile, leaning in to press a final kiss to your shoulder before slowly pulling himself up from the bed, his body moving with languid grace despite the exhaustion settling in. The sound of running water from the bathroom fills the room as Minho wets a washcloth, and a few moments later, he returns with it in hand.

He kneels beside you first, gently spreading your legs to wipe away the sticky remnants of the evening. His touch is soft, almost reverent, as he carefully cleans your sensitive skin, making sure not to cause any discomfort. You sigh in relief, your body relaxing further as he takes his time, wiping away the sweat and slick. “There we go,” he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh before moving on to Jisung.

Jisung lets out a low hum as Minho repeats the process, cleaning him up with the same gentle care. The younger boy shifts slightly under the touch, his chest rising and falling steadily as he basks in the afterglow. Minho’s gaze is soft and filled with affection as he finishes and tosses the cloth aside, adding to the scattered mess of torn away clothes on the floor.

Once everyone is cleaned up, Minho climbs back into bed, pulling you both into his arms, making sure you're comfortable before pulling a blanket over the three of you. 

The room falls into a peaceful quiet, the three of you lying in a warm, comforting tangle of limbs. Jisung’s hand remains on your cheek, stroking your skin in slow, soothing motions. Minho’s breath evens out as he nestles close behind you, his presence grounding. You all lie there in the gentle haze, wrapped in each other's warmth, no words needed—just the quiet intimacy of the moment and the comfort of knowing you are safe, loved, and cherished.

— 

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : whew!! I had so much fun writing this, I hope you enjoyed it, as well!! don't hesitate to let me know what you think, I want to hear all your feedback. :)

HEAVY inspo credit to @skzms , she inspired me so much when formulating the idea for this. she writes so beautifully, please check out her work if you haven't already.

thank you for reading!! more to come soon...

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ; 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

short and sweet fluff <3

your first kiss

𝐜𝐰 : none, all ages are welcome to read :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.6k 

—

“It’s always in these quiet moments, just after sunset, when the world is painted in soft twilight, that you feel most at ease beside Seungmin.”

His shoulder brushes yours as you walk, the touch lingering like an unsaid promise. You’ve only known each other for a month, yet it feels like a lifetime — like you've always known the sound of his laughter when it slips from his lips, the way it builds until he’s clutching his stomach, his hand instinctively covering his mouth. You’ve learned the little things: his favorite foods, the ones he wrinkles his nose at, how his eyes light up when he talks about baseball, and the way he turns shy under your gaze, his confidence faltering for just a moment. And somehow, he’s memorized the same small, intricate details about you.

There’s something about Seungmin that draws you in, like you could lose yourself in the depths of his eyes, in the rhythm of his words. The nights you spend together have become a ritual, drifting into conversations that spill into the evening air, neither of you wanting them to end. He listens as if each word you say is something to be treasured, and when he speaks, you find yourself hanging on every syllable, drawn in by the sincerity behind them. 

Now, like you’ve done many nights that sacred month, the two of you walk side by side through the familiar streets, the conversations between you flowing as effortlessly as the night breeze. There’s a tension in the air, subtle but undeniable, something more than friendship settling between the spaces of your words. And though neither of you has said anything, it lingers, waiting to be acknowledged.

“You’re really intelligent, you know that?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them, but now that they're out, you can’t help but follow through. “I mean, the way you speak… it’s so thoughtful, like you’ve really considered everything before you say it. It makes me want to keep listening.”

His eyes widen at your sudden confession, the surprise evident as a soft blush creeps up his cheeks. He quickly turns his head toward you, as if searching your face for sincerity, but the warmth in his eyes betrays the shyness he’s trying to hide.

“You’re not just smart, Seungmin… you make people feel like their words matter.” There’s a hint of embarrassment in your voice, but the relief of finally saying it outweighs your nerves. You’ve been wanting to tell him this from the moment you realized how deeply he listens, how effortlessly he makes you feel heard.

For a moment, he’s quiet, as if weighing your words carefully. Then, a soft smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his blush deepening under the fading light. “I didn’t know I did that,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his voice low and warm. His eyes flicker to yours again, and there’s a softness there, something unspoken hanging between you, lingering in the space of the moment. 

You quickly look away, a sudden wave of shyness bubbling up inside you. The air between you feels almost too thick to breathe, the quiet weight of something unspoken pressing down on your chest. As your eyes wander, searching for something—anything—to break the tension, you spot it: a faint, glowing light in the distance. A small, vintage photo booth sits tucked away at the corner of the street, its neon sign flickering invitingly, like it’s calling to you.

Your heart skips a beat as excitement overtakes the nerves. “Look!” you exclaim, pointing at it. Without thinking, you grab Seungmin’s hand, a burst of adrenaline pushing away the lingering tension. “We have to take pictures!”

He blinks, caught off guard by your sudden enthusiasm, but follows you with a soft laugh. “A photo booth?” he asks, amusement mingling with a hint of nerves in his voice. He’s been unusually quiet all night, but you don’t dwell on it as you pull him closer.

The booth looks even more charming up close, its faded paint and soft, glowing interior giving it a nostalgic warmth. You lift the curtain and slide inside, barely able to contain your excitement. Seungmin hesitates for a moment before sitting beside you, the small space forcing your knees to bump and shoulders to press together. The closeness stirs something inside you, a flutter of nerves that you try to ignore.

You fumble with the coins, your excitement getting the better of you, and one slips from your fingers, clattering to the floor of the booth. “Oops,” you mumble, bending down to grab it, just as Seungmin does the same.

Your heads collide with a soft thud, both of you freezing at the unexpected contact.

“Ow,” you laugh awkwardly, rubbing your forehead as a nervous giggle escapes your lips. Seungmin’s eyes widen, a startled smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his voice soft and apologetic, his own hand brushing against his forehead. For a moment, you’re both stuck in this awkward dance of flustered apologies and quiet laughter, neither of you quite sure what to do next.

You finally manage to pick up the coin, the air between you lighter but still charged with something more, something unsaid. As you straighten back up and drop the coin into the slot, the machine hums to life again, the countdown starting on the screen.

“Ready?” you ask, glancing at Seungmin. He nods, but there’s something in his expression—an intensity, a quiet sort of tension that wasn’t there before.

The first flash goes off, capturing your smiles, your faces still a safe distance apart. For the second shot, you make a funny face, and Seungmin laughs, some of his earlier nervousness melting away. But by the third picture, things shift again. You’re closer now, your knees brushing with each breath, the air between you thickening once more. 

The countdown for the third photo begins, but this time, Seungmin doesn’t move. He glances at the screen, then back at you, his expression unreadable. The numbers tick down, and just as you expect the flash, he speaks, his voice soft, almost hesitant.

“Can I kiss you?”

The question hangs in the air, quiet but heavy, and your heart skips a beat. You weren’t expecting it, and the sudden vulnerability in his voice makes the moment feel more intimate, more real than anything you’ve felt with him before.

You meet his eyes, wide and sincere, and for a second, all the playful banter, all the lingering tension, comes rushing back to you. You’ve thought about this, about him, but the way he asks—careful, as if he’s giving you a choice, a way out if you want it—makes your heart ache in a way you didn’t expect.

The camera flashes, but neither of you move. 

You swallow, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Seungmin exhales, like he’s been holding his breath, and slowly—so slowly it’s almost painful—he leans in. His hand hovers near yours, as if unsure whether to take it. His eyes never leave yours, searching your face for any sign of hesitation. But there is none.

When his lips finally brush yours, it’s tentative, soft, like a question being asked again with each gentle movement. The kiss is hesitant, sweet and shy, as if he’s afraid of moving too fast, of breaking whatever delicate thing has been building between you. Your heart hammers in your chest, every inch of your skin buzzing with nervous energy.

The final flash of the camera goes unnoticed, the picture snapping without either of you caring. All that exists is the warmth of Seungmin’s lips on yours, the closeness that fills the tiny booth, and the quiet realization that everything between you has changed.

When he pulls back with unsteady breath, his face is flushed, and he looks at you like he’s unsure of what to say, his breath uneven, lips parted as if he’s trying to figure out what just happened. His expression is a mixture of surprise and something deeper, something that’s been building between you all night, maybe even longer.

You smile, feeling as flustered as he looks, the butterflies in your stomach refusing to settle. “That… that was nice,” you murmur, your voice shaking a little, as if you’re afraid of saying the wrong thing.

Seungmin glances down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. “Yeah… it was,” he mumbles, his blush deepening as his eyes flicker back up to meet yours, his shyness mirroring your own.

You both sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, the world outside fading into the background. Seungmin finally looks at you, his eyes soft yet searching, and you feel a warmth spread through you as you meet his gaze. “I think I blinked… can we do it again?” you suggest shyly, gesturing toward the camera. A shy smile breaks through Seungmin’s earlier nerves as he reaches to put another coin into the machine.

“Definitely.” His response makes your heart race with anticipation, a flutter of excitement at the thought of capturing this moment again. As the countdown restarts, you lean back in closer, the warmth of his presence enveloping you once more. You can feel the electric buzz between you, and in that sweet, shy moment, you both know this experience—filled with laughter and a hint of longing—will linger in your memory long after the photos are developed. The camera flashes, freezing another moment, as you both bask in the promise of what’s yet to come.

—

𝐚𝐧 : hope you enjoyed!! please don't hesitate to share any feedback :)

thank you for reading!! more to come soon...

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

𝐉𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞 ; 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

"Hyunjin’s fingers are stained with the fruit’s nectar, slick and glistening as he reaches into the pomegranate once more, breaking apart the seeds with a sensual precision. Each movement is a slow, deliberate seduction, his eyes never wavering from yours, their heat burning through the space between you. His body gleams under the faint light, every ripple of muscle accentuated by the juice now dripping from his lips and down his chest, tracing the sculpted lines of his collarbone, pooling in the hollow of his navel before falling lower still."

────୨ৎ────

𝐜𝐰 : sexual undertones, nudity (pretty much), love bites, kissing, teasing, sitoph1lia

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : romance, sensual as hell, smut MDNI

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.8k

𝐚𝐧: WOWIE this one is a tad bit obscure, but it was so much fun, and imagining this was so yummy (pun intended)

────୨ৎ────

Hyunjin kneels between your thighs like a living deity, sculpted in marble and shadow, his presence radiating a magnetic, almost reverential energy. His body, adorned only by the whisper of black briefs clinging to his hips, is a landscape of taut, sinewy muscle that gleams under the dim light, every inch of him drawn in delicate, unapologetic curves. He exists as both a masterpiece and a sinner in this moment—a temple of flesh and desire, poised at the altar of your body. His breath, soft yet deliberate, dances across your skin, your thighs, mingling with the ripe sweetness of the pomegranate he holds in his hands, its rough skin a stark contrast to the elegance with which he moves.

His gaze, dark and smoldering, remains locked with yours, threading you to him, pulling you deeper into the magnetic allure that pulses between your open legs. With an almost ceremonial slowness, he pierces the pomegranate’s skin, and it splits apart with a sound so intimate it reverberates in your chest. The fruit yields to him, its ruby seeds exposed like precious secrets, and he cradles it in his stained fingers as though this act is sacred, as though the very essence of pleasure lies within the ripeness of this forbidden fruit.

Without tearing his eyes from yours, he dips his slender fingers into the pomegranate’s heart, pulling free a cluster of the glistening seeds. They shimmer in the light, like droplets of blood on his pale skin, each one swollen with promise. His lips part slowly, deliberately, as he brings the seeds to his mouth. The sound of him biting into them is quiet yet decadent, a soft, wet crack that stirs something primal inside you, like the first taste of temptation. His tongue slides out to catch the juice that spills from the corners of his mouth, and you are undone by the slow sweep of it, the way it drags languorously along his lips, painting them a deep, sensual red.

The juice drips from his chin, tracing an irresistible path down the curve of his neck and onto his chest, where it spills like liquid sin over his skin. It carves rivulets down his body, slow and unhurried, like the unspoken promises that hang heavy in the air. The crimson stains bloom on his flesh, anointed with the pomegranate’s essence, marking him as something both otherworldly and utterly, achingly human. Your breath hitches, chest tightening with the insistent thrum of desire that knots itself low in your belly, as if your very soul recognizes the gravity of this moment.

Hyunjin’s fingers are stained with the fruit’s nectar, slick and glistening as he reaches into the pomegranate once more, breaking apart the seeds with a sensual precision. Each movement is a slow, deliberate seduction, his eyes never wavering from yours, their heat burning through the space between you. His body gleams under the faint light, every ripple of muscle accentuated by the juice now dripping from his lips and down his chest, tracing the sculpted lines of his collarbone, pooling in the hollow of his navel before falling lower still.

The act of watching him is both a torture and a gift, your pulse racing in tandem with his deliberate rhythm, as though the air between you thickens, vibrating with tension, drawing you deeper into his orbit. The sensuality of him kneeling between your legs—his body positioned so close, yet just beyond your grasp—is almost unbearable, a dance of desire that lingers just out of reach, teasing the very edges of your self-control. Your thighs tremble as he remains there, his hands slick with juice, his fingers a dark red testament to the feast he is indulging in.

He leans forward ever so slightly, his breath warm and intoxicating. You can feel the heat radiating from him, a tantalizing presence that makes your skin tingle, every nerve alive with anticipation. His swollen lips glisten with the fruit’s juice, his mouth so close yet achingly far, and when his tongue flicks out once more to lap up the last remnants of sweetness, you feel yourself unravel in a way that is both exquisite and torturous.

He drags the back of his hand across his jaw, smearing the juice into his skin like a painter swiping pigment across a canvas. His hand, now slick and sticky, glides down his chest, following the path of the juice, tracing the lines of his body with deliberate care. Each motion is slow, almost reverent, as though this act of indulgence is meant to break you down, to unravel you at the very seams of your composure.

Your breath stutters as his fingers slip lower, gathering the juice trailing down his abdomen and pooling at the waistband of his briefs, staining the dark fabric with wet streaks of red. The sight of it—the juice mingling with the heat of his body, the way his muscles tighten with each subtle movement—further awakens the ache that blossoms deep and insistent in your core. You want to reach out, to feel the slickness of his skin beneath your fingers, to drag your hand down the paths the juice has traced, to claim him in a way that mirrors the hunger in his eyes.

His lips, now a deep crimson, curve into the faintest, knowing smile, a subtle acknowledgment of the effect he is having on you, as if he can sense the way your body responds to him—quivering, aching, desperate. He reaches out until his dripping hand hovers just above your skin, before finally descending with a feather-light touch to your bare abdomen.

The cool slickness of the juice meets your skin, and it feels like the brush of silk over fire. His fingers move with agonizing slowness, tracing languid patterns across your belly, smearing the crimson juice in fluid strokes. It feels almost ritualistic, as if he’s anointing you with the very essence of desire, marking you as his in a silent act of reverence. The contrast between the warmth of his hand and the coolness of the juice sends a tremor racing through your body, your breath catching in your throat, every nerve lit with a quiet, searing intensity.

His fingers glide over you in a teasing dance, never lingering long enough to satisfy, but just enough to make your skin hum with anticipation. The sweet tang of pomegranate fills the space between you, mingling with the heat of his breath that ghosts over your skin as he leans closer, his touch poetry in motion—each stroke a line written in the language of longing, every movement a verse dedicated to the slow unraveling of your composure.

Your body arches instinctively into his touch, the ache for more coiling low in your belly, and you feel yourself teetering on the precipice of surrender. The slickness of his fingers as they move over you, combined with the deliberate slowness of his ministrations, makes the tension between you nearly unbearable. He paints you with the juice of the pomegranate, marking you in hues of desire, every stroke of his hand deepening the ache that simmers beneath your skin. The red trails he leaves behind glow in the low light, a testament to the intimacy unfolding between you, a visual echo of the quiet, wordless exchange that has passed between your bodies.

His gaze never wavers from yours, the intensity of it sending shivers down your spine. It's as if he’s memorizing every inch of your response, savoring the way your body moves beneath his touch, the way your breath hitches with every languid stroke of his fingers. He knows the power he holds over you, and in this moment, he wields it with exquisite control.

And then, slowly—achingly, torturously slowly—he leans in, weight shifting until you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, each exhale sending shivers down your spine as his lips hover just above the surface of your abdomen, close enough that you can feel the tantalizing heat radiating from them. Your body stills, every muscle tensing in anticipation, your heartbeat a wild, erratic drumbeat in your chest, and then finally, finally, his lips brush against you. The kiss is soft at first, the barest whisper of contact, until his mouth moves over your skin with a reverence that borders on worship, pressing soft, languid kisses along the path his fingers have drawn, following the trails of juice he left behind as if tasting his own handiwork.

Each kiss feels like a brand, searing you with the heat of his desire, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His tongue flicks out, catching a stray droplet of pomegranate juice that clings to your skin, and the sensation sends a shockwave of pleasure rippling through you. His kisses grow deeper, more insistent, as he moves slowly upward, his mouth mapping every inch of you with deliberate care, each press of his lips a promise unspoken.

And then, his fingers, still slick with juice, glide higher, teasing the edges of your ribs, drawing soft, languid circles as they climb, while his mouth hovers just above yours, the space between you charged with an almost unbearable tension. The taste of pomegranate lingers in the air, sweet and heady, mingling with the intoxicating warmth of his breath as he finally, achingly, presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is everything—slow and deep, filled with a hunger that simmers just beneath the surface, restrained yet full of promise. His lips are soft but firm, moving against yours in a dance of need and control, a silent plea for more, for everything. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, tasting, teasing, before slipping past the barrier of your mouth, and the taste of him floods your senses—sweet, decadent, and utterly intoxicating. The world narrows to the feel of his mouth on yours, the heat of his body so close, the pulse of desire that thrums between you, building to a crescendo with every passing second.

His hand, still slick with the pomegranate’s nectar, rests on your abdomen, his fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns as the kiss deepens, becoming something more, something consuming. His other hand cups the back of your neck, drawing you closer as if he wants to drown in you, to lose himself in the taste and feel of you. His kiss is a slow, deliberate claim, a soft but insistent possession, and you surrender to it completely, until your body melts beneath the weight of his desire.

In this moment, you are his—your breath, your body, your soul—lost in the quiet, slow-burning poetry of his movements, the sensuality of his touch, the intoxicating allure of his mouth. You are utterly lost in him, the world narrowing to the heat of his body, the slow rhythm of his hands, and the unspoken promise in every stroke, every breath, every lingering press of his lips against yours.

────୨ৎ────

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ; 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

────୨ৎ──── 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : romance, fluff, chan as a father of two imagines

𝐚𝐧 : I think this is one of the most adorable/wholesome things I’ve ever written.

This made me realize Channie will be an AMAZING dad if he ever has children… those will be some lucky ass kids. 

Anyway, this was SO fun to do, so let me know if you guys want me to do the other members!! 

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1k

────୨ৎ────

He’s always being silly with them, chasing them around the house as they giggle and shriek with joy.

The tickles are non-stop. He’ll even rope you into it: “Should we give Mommy some tickles? I think… YES!” And then all three of them will pounce, leaving you a laughing, breathless mess.

He spends hours pushing them on the swings, diving under for extra fun, no matter how tired he gets. He’ll keep going as long as they ask.

Whenever you’re out as a family, one kid is always riding on his shoulders, the other holding his or your hand, making you feel like the sweetest unit.

During family dance parties, he blasts Stray Kids’ songs and dances around the living room with them, showing them all the choreo. They may not get it quite right, but they’re having the best time.

He’s constantly on edge when they’re running around or eating too fast, gently reminding them to slow down while squeezing your hand a little tighter for comfort.

When one of them falls down, he’s immediately there to scoop them up. “Where does it hurt?” he asks with wide eyes. They’ll point with a pout, and he’ll dramatically kiss it better until they’re giggling and off to play again.

You and Chan read to them every night, turning storytime into a full-blown performance, complete with voices and gestures. Sometimes you get so into it, you forget the stories are supposed to put the kids to sleep, not you two.

On days when you’re feeling overwhelmed, he takes the kids to the park or the zoo for the whole day, giving you a much-needed breather to recharge.

The rest of Stray Kids joins in the fun just as much. Uncle Minho and Felix are always up for babysitting when it’s date night for you two.

If a nightmare wakes one of them, you both cuddle up close. “Nothing can hurt you when we’re here,” he says softly, and you add, “You’re loved and safe.” You smile at each other over their heads, feeling so lucky to share this moment.

He brings them to the studio sometimes, showing them his equipment, letting them tap buttons and twist knobs like they’re junior producers.

Mealtime is always fun with Chan—he never skips the airplane sound while feeding them, zooming the spoon toward their little mouths with a silly “brrr.”

If they’re picky eaters, no problem. He never forces them to eat what they don’t like, but somehow always sneaks those healthy veggies into his cooking—ninja-dad style.

He’s always encouraging them to ask for help when they need it, teaching them to be brave and kind.

He loves making surprise picnics in the backyard, complete with little sandwiches, juice boxes, and a blanket fort—because why not make the ordinary feel magical?

He’s the master of bedtime cuddles, always making sure they fall asleep knowing they’re loved, protected, and their dreams are theirs to chase.

He plays his guitar softly while they fall asleep, creating the perfect lullaby just for them, humming sweetly as their little eyes drift shut.

He gives them pep talks before big school days, telling them, “You can do anything if you believe in yourself,” and reminding them that he’s their biggest fan.

When he’s working late at the studio, he FaceTimes them to say goodnight, blowing kisses through the screen and promising to tuck them in tomorrow night.

On lazy mornings, he’ll gather everyone up on the couch for a “Stray Kids movie marathon,” introducing them to the music videos and behind-the-scenes clips, laughing as they point and yell, “That’s Daddy!”

He’s the ultimate hype man for their art projects, hanging every drawing, painting, or craft they make on the fridge with pride, saying, “Wow! You’re so talented!”

He loves teaching them little bits of Korean and English, blending the two languages into their playtime so they grow up with both cultures in their hearts.

His phone’s photo gallery is filled with pictures of them—sleeping, playing, eating, doing anything.He’s always snapping a photo, capturing every sweet memory.

He wears matching outfits with them sometimes, usually a cute hoodie or hat, and they’ll walk around together looking like a coordinated squad.

He lets them "help" when he's working on music, giving them little jobs like pressing a button or clapping in the microphone, and then playing it back for them with a big smile.

If they’re having a rough day, he’ll scoop them up in his arms and say, “You’ve got this, because you’re my kid,” and that’s all the comfort they need.

He takes pride in building their toys, from Lego sets to dollhouses, putting everything together perfectly—then sitting down to play with them for hours.

He’s always wearing the little accessories they make him—bracelets, necklaces, even a glittery crown once—and he rocks it like it’s high fashion.

He plays them Stray Kids’ music when they’re in the car, but he’s always more excited to see them dance to it than they are.

On birthdays, he goes all out—decorating the house, baking a cake, and even writing them their own little birthday song because “you only deserve the best!”

He’s quick to apologize if he’s ever stern with them, teaching them that even grown-ups make mistakes and it’s important to say sorry.

He makes sure they know how important kindness is, often saying, “Being a good person is way cooler than anything else, right?” and they always nod in agreement.

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 𝐢𝐭:

you got this :)

[ohmynabiii]

“𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐝-𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝” ; 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

switch!reader x subby!minho

“You could feel it in the way his breath hitched every time your lips brushed against his skin, the shiver that ran through him when your fingers teased the soft hair at the nape of his neck.”

────୨ৎ──── 𝐜𝐰 : hot couch make out sesh, dry humping, love bites/hickies

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : romance, smutty fluff, subby min ;) MDNI

𝐚𝐧 : wrote this piece on the train, I apologize for it being slightly shorter than my other work!! I’m a sucker for subby lee know, though, so let me know if you want me to continue this one 🫣

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.1k

────୨ৎ────

The room was bathed in a warm, amber glow, the kind of light that made everything feel secret and intimate, casting soft shadows along the walls. The only sounds that filled the space were the muffled hum of distant conversations and the soft rustle of clothes as you moved against Minho. His back was pressed into the plush couch, hands gripping your hips as though they were the only things tethering him to reality. His usual composure, that sharp confidence he wore like armor, had completely unraveled in the heat of the moment.

You could feel it in the way his breath hitched every time your lips brushed against his skin, the shiver that ran through him when your fingers teased the soft hair at the nape of his neck. His hair, normally styled so carefully, was a mess now, strands falling haphazardly into his eyes. The collar of his shirt was tugged open, revealing pale skin that was rapidly becoming dotted with dark marks, your kisses painting a trail down the side of his neck, where his pulse thrummed wildly beneath your lips.

Minho’s face was flushed, the faintest hint of pink creeping up from his collarbones to stain his cheeks, a color you rarely ever saw on him. The sight sent a thrill through you, knowing that you—you—were the reason for his undone state. He was completely at your mercy, and for someone who always maintained control, it was intoxicating to watch him fall apart beneath you.

His head tipped back against the couch, lips parted as he let out a shaky breath, eyes half-lidded and glazed over as your hips rocked against him. His fingers dug into your waist as if trying to ground himself, but his resolve was slipping with every passing second, each teasing grind making his breaths come faster, shallower.

“Y/N…” His voice came out low, a hoarse whisper, barely audible above the sound of your movements. There was a pleading edge to it that you’d never heard before, like he was asking you for something he couldn’t quite bring himself to say out loud.

You leaned in, your lips brushing over his, feeling the way his breath caught, the anticipation building between you like electricity in the air. “Mhm?” you hummed, teasing him just a little more, your fingers trailing up his chest, tugging at his already disheveled shirt.

Minho’s eyes fluttered shut as he let out a quiet groan, his head tilting back, baring more of his neck to you. His skin was warm under your touch, his pulse erratic, and you couldn’t help but press your lips to it again, sucking lightly, feeling the way his entire body responded to the sensation. He was so rarely like this, so rarely exposed and vulnerable, and it made every kiss, every touch, feel that much more intimate.

You could feel the heat between you growing, the tension tightening like a drawn string, ready to snap. His hands slid up your sides, fingers trembling slightly, betraying just how much he was struggling to keep some semblance of composure. But as you pressed harder against him, grinding down in a way that made his breath hitch, you knew he was losing that battle.

Just as your lips met his again in a slow, deep kiss, the door to the room creaked open.

“Minho-hyunggg—oh, shit.”

The voice cut through the charged air like a splash of cold water, and your head snapped up, eyes widening as you saw Hyunjin standing in the doorway, completely frozen. His eyes, wide as saucers, flicked between you and Minho, his expression a mixture of surprise and something close to disbelief. 

Minho, on the other hand, was motionless beneath you, his eyes squeezed shut as though if he stayed still long enough, maybe Hyunjin would disappear. But the telltale flush creeping up from his neck, already tinted pink from your kisses, gave him away. His hand flew up to cover the hickeys that were scattered across his throat, but it only made him look more flustered, his fingers fumbling as if he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

Hyunjin’s eyes finally settled on Minho, taking in his disheveled appearance: the wild hair, the swollen lips, the shirt tugged open and wrinkled, and—most damning of all—the bright red blush that painted his usually composed face.

“Uh…” Hyunjin managed, clearly struggling to form a coherent sentence as he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “I…didn’t mean to… interrupt?”

Minho’s breath caught, his face a deep shade of red now as he muttered through gritted teeth, “Get out.”

But there was no edge to his voice, no commanding presence. It was raw, strained with embarrassment, and Hyunjin clearly noticed, because his lips curled into a smirk, the disbelief fading as a mischievous glint took its place.

“Right, right, leaving now,” Hyunjin chuckled, backing up slowly toward the door, his eyes still darting between the two of you. “But, uh, Minho—didn’t know you had it in you, man.”

Minho’s jaw clenched, his eyes still shut, too mortified to even look at his bandmate. “Hyunjin—”

“Okay, okay, I’m going!” Hyunjin held up his hands in mock surrender, clearly enjoying every second of Minho’s flustered state. But just before he slipped out the door, he shot you a wink. “Good job, by the way.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the room in heavy silence once again, save for the sound of Minho’s labored breathing. He was still beneath you, his hands covering his face now as a long, low groan escaped his lips.

“He’s never going to let this go,” he muttered, voice muffled by his hands.

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as you leaned down, brushing your lips softly over his. “I don’t know,” you teased, your breath warm against his cheek. “I think it’s kind of cute seeing you all flustered like this.”

Minho peeked out from between his fingers, his blush still lingering as he narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re enjoying this too much,” he grumbled, but there was a small, sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, grinning as you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But I think it suits you.”

Minho’s hands fell away from his face, and before you could tease him any more, he pulled you down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was just as desperate as the one you had shared before the interruption. All thoughts of Hyunjin and his teasing vanished as Minho’s hands tightened around your waist, his tongue sliding against yours as if to reclaim what had been momentarily lost.

And just like that, the world outside faded away again.

────୨ৎ────

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 ; 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

In the quiet intimacy of a shared art studio, two artists navigate the delicate balance between creative passion and unspoken desire, their bond deepening in the shadows of late-night work sessions. When the lights flicker off one evening, the darkness reveals feelings that neither can easily ignore, leaving them both wondering what will come to light when the power returns. 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 !! : this is PART ONE of an incomplete series. series should be read in order.

link to part two !!

part three - unreleased

part four - unreleased

𝐜𝐰 : none, all ages are welcome to read :)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : slow-burn, artist au, student au, fluff, romance

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1.7k

────୨ৎ──── "You feel the weight of Hyunjin’s gaze long before you dare to look up. It lingers between you, dense and electric, winding through the quiet hum of the studio like a current."

Your hands glide over cool clay, fingers smoothing the surface as you coax the delicate curve of a collarbone into being, each press of your thumb drawing it closer to life. The sculpture seems to breathe under your touch, its form responding to you in a way that feels almost human.

The sensation of being observed is familiar—artists often study one another, dissecting technique and form, learning, feeding their curiosity... But Hyunjin’s attention is something else entirely. His presence is usually a steady hum, the quiet comfort of someone sharing your space. But when his gaze finds you, it's like the air thickens, charged and alive. It's not like the passing glances you get from others—his eyes seem to peel back the layers of your artistic mind, seeing more than just the motion of your hands. 

You press your thumb into the clavicle of the sculpture, trailing down with careful precision, feeling the texture of the clay as if it were your own skin. The heat of his occasional gaze stays with you, a whispering presence that makes it difficult to focus. It’s not just the sculpture he’s observing. With Hyunjin, it’s as if he’s tracing the invisible thread of your thoughts, searching for something deeper, something you’ve never spoken aloud.

Time slips away unnoticed, the evening fading into the quiet of night. The soft glow of the two desk lamps casts long shadows over your hands, bathing the studio in a warm, amber light. Beyond the tall windows, the city sleeps, forgotten in the hush of your shared space. You and Hyunjin are both here, long past when most would have packed up and left, driven by the pressure of the upcoming gallery—your first showcase together. It simmers like a distant storm, but neither of you speak of it. Instead, the room is filled only with the subtle rhythm of creation, your hands working clay, his brush whispering across the canvas. 

You dare a glance across the room, finally giving in to temptation. He’s there, his paintbrush idle, his dark eyes following the movement of your hands. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in his stillness that sends a shiver through you. It’s like he’s painting you in his mind, not in rough strokes of observation, but with the soft, deliberate lines of fascination.

When your eyes meet his, Hyunjin’s lips curve into a soft, almost shy smile. “It’s beautiful,” he says quietly, his voice a low, intimate murmur that seems to hang in the air. His eyes flicker to the sculpture, then back to you, the compliment slipping out as though it had always been there, waiting to be spoken.

Caught off guard, you step back, wiping your hands on the worn fabric of your apron, trying to steady the flutter in your chest. You glance at the sculpture—at the form you’ve been shaping for hours—and try to see it through his eyes. The smooth curve of the clay, the gentle bend of the shoulders, the subtle life emerging beneath your hands. “Thanks,” you manage, feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks.

You clear your throat, your gaze drifting to his easel, where a half-finished painting rests. Its colors are rich and full of motion, even in its incomplete state. “Yours too,” you say softly, the words slipping out with more tenderness than you intended. His smile deepens at that, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you.

The moment stretches, the silence thickening with the weight of it. For a heartbeat, neither of you move, eyes locked in the quiet intensity of the space between you. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, you both pull away, the tension settling back into the familiar rhythm of the studio. You dip your fingers into the bucket of water beside you, letting the coolness ground you, smoothing over the fingerprints left behind on the sculpture.

This isn’t the first time you’ve felt it—this simmering, unspoken tension that’s always lingered between you and Hyunjin. From the moment you were assigned this shared studio, something had crackled between you, always just beneath the surface. But you never acknowledged it. Instead, you fell into an easy rhythm, late nights spent working long past the time when the other students had gone home. Critiques exchanged in the early hours, a quiet camaraderie as the city slept beyond the windows. Heading out for a late-night bite after a long session of sculpting and painting.

But then, there were always these moments—stolen glances, the lingering gaze when he thought you weren’t looking, or lingering near your sculptures when he assumed you’d left for the night. The way his fingers would ghost over the edges of your work, as if trying to understand the heart of it. Of you. And there were times you found your own eyes drifting toward him, watching the quiet intensity with which he painted, how he seemed to pour himself into every stroke, his work as much a reflection of himself as it was the world around him.

And there were the compliments. Like tonight, they were always subtle, easy, slipped into conversations as if they were nothing. But they stayed with you, a glance that lingered too long, a smile that spoke of something more. You wonder if he feels it too—the spark that always seems just a breath away from igniting. Maybe it’s safer this way, you tell yourself, keeping it buried beneath the weight of clay and paint. And yet, tonight, with his eyes tracing the contours of your unfinished sculpture everytime he pulls away from his painting, it feels like something is shifting.

The ache in your hands pulls you from your thoughts, the weight of the day pulling at your eyelids, exhaustion settling in like a heavy fog. You step back from the sculpture, fingers stiff with the hours spent shaping the clay, and a wave of realized exhaustion washes over you like a slow tide. Glancing at the clock, you realize how late it’s gotten. The soft hum of Hyunjin’s brush is the only sound that breaks the silence of the studio. He’s still working, completely absorbed, his brow furrowed in concentration. 

You sigh softly and wander toward the small couch in the corner of the studio, curling up with a quiet groan. As you settle into the cushions, Hyunjin’s laughter drifts across the room. “Taking a break?” His voice is gentle, amused.

“Mmm,” you hum, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Wake me up in twenty.” The last words tumble out as you sink into the cushions, your body surrendering to sleep almost immediately.

The quiet in the room deepens, the gentle scrape of Hyunjin’s brush is the last thing you hear before slipping away. 

────୨ৎ────

Minutes pass, maybe more—time becoming a blur in your haze of exhaustion, the studio a cocoon of quiet. Hyunjin steps back from his easel eventually, stretching and cracking his stiff joints, his gaze drifting toward you, curled up on the couch. He watches for a moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he takes in the peaceful rise and fall of your breathing.

He reaches for the blanket draped over the back of the couch, the fabric brushing your shoulder as he lays it over you gently. You shift in your sleep, a contented sigh escaping your lips, and Hyunjin stands there, frozen, his eyes lingering on you longer than he intends. The studio light casts a soft glow over your features, peaceful in the quiet. Then, with a quiet breath, he turns back to his easel, casting one last glance in your direction.

────୨ৎ────

The warmth of the rising sun wakes you, the studio bathed in the soft, golden light of dawn. You sit up slowly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and stretching, realizing that hours have passed since you closed your eyes. Hyunjin is nowhere to be seen, and you curse softly under your breath, annoyed that he didn’t wake you as you’d asked.

Your eyes fall to the coffee table, where a piece of paper sits folded neatly. You reach for it, the edges still rough from being torn hastily from his sketchbook. As you unfold it, your breath catches. It’s you—curled up on the couch, drawn with a tenderness that makes your heart stutter. The lines are soft, flowing, capturing every detail—the curve of your body, the gentle rise of your chest, the way your hair spills over the pillow. It’s not just a sketch; it’s a moment frozen in time, one you hadn’t even realized you shared with him.

It hits you then, the knowledge that while you were tucked into sleep, unaware of the world around you, Hyunjin was watching over you, his focus entirely on you. There’s something so tender in that thought, so quietly protective. The air between you has always buzzed with unspoken words, with the pull of something simmering just beneath the surface, but this—this feels different. More intimate. Like in those moments, he allowed himself to see you in a way that even you hadn’t noticed. 

Your heart flutters, a mix of warmth and something more—something deeper, stirring in your chest. The sketch seems to say what neither of you has dared to speak aloud, a silent confession woven into each line. You run your fingers over the sketch, feeling the faint imprint of his hand where he pressed harder with the charcoal, when you notice his familiar scrawl at the bottom of the page:  "I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You needed the rest. Goodnight~"

A faint smile tugs at your lips as you hold the sketch close, the soft morning light filtering through the windows, casting a golden hue over the studio, and wrapping you in warmth.

────୨ৎ────

𝐚𝐧 : hope you enjoyed!! please don't hesitate to share any feedback :)

thank you for reading!! more to come soon...

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 :,)

Okay, so I understand that this is far from what I usually post, but I feel the need to say it:

(apologies for any writing mistakes, I had a hard time holding back tears lol) So I recently saw a clip of Bang Chan saying he never takes care of himself because he's always busy looking after the other members. It must be such a difficult balance—producing, leading Stray Kids, and enduring the immense pressure of being an idol. Constantly having to look perfect, filter every word, and manage every action. I can only imagine how exhausting it is just being a K-pop idol, but Chan goes even further. He co-produces most of Stray Kids' songs and seems to be caught in this endless cycle of trying to prove himself, not only to his members but to the world.

It's that perfectionist side of him, the inner voice telling him he’s not good enough, when in reality, he is more than enough. He shines brighter than any idol I know. He's like a warm embrace at the end of a long day, the smell of freshly cooked breakfast in the morning, the beating heart of Stray Kids. So many people see what he and the members have created as "home." There is no Stray Kids without Chan. There is no sense of comfort without him.

I wish he could see that—how many people adore him and his art. He started so young, too, never really getting the chance to grow into himself before presenting to the world. I can’t imagine how difficult that must be, having millions of people know your name before you’ve fully figured out who you are.

It's not just the music, either—it's the connection he fosters with his fans, how he pours himself into every livestream, every word of encouragement. There’s something so selfless about him, the way he gives so much of his energy to others without asking for anything in return. It makes me wonder how often he gets to just *be*—without the weight of expectations, without feeling the need to constantly achieve. I think many of us see him as this pillar of strength, but even pillars need rest.

I hope he knows it’s okay to lean on others, to take a break, to simply exist without having to prove his worth. Because his worth isn’t tied to how productive he is, how many songs he writes, or how well he leads. His worth is in who he is, and that’s more than enough.

And maybe that’s the hardest part for him—the constant push and pull between being someone’s leader, producer, and friend, while also trying to stay grounded in his own sense of self. It’s hard to imagine where he finds the time to just reflect, to listen to his own needs when he’s so busy listening to everyone else’s. I wonder if he’s ever able to truly step away from the responsibilities, the unspoken expectations that come with being the ‘glue’ of Stray Kids. Maybe that’s why so many of us resonate with him—we see a bit of ourselves in his struggle, that desire to do everything and be everything for everyone, even when it feels impossible.

But I hope he knows it’s okay to put himself first, to protect his own peace. Because without him, there would be a void, not just in the group but in the hearts of the people he’s touched. His music, his kindness, his energy—those things are irreplaceable. He has given so much of himself to the world, and I think it’s time the world gives a little back to him. We all want him to succeed, not just as a leader but as a person, to find joy and fulfillment in the quiet moments, when the stage lights are off and the world isn’t watching.

He deserves to know that he’s enough just as he is—that even when he’s not creating, performing, or leading, his presence is more than enough. Chan isn’t just the heart of Stray Kids; he’s the heart of so many people’s lives, the comfort they seek at the end of the day. And I hope, more than anything, he feels that same comfort within himself. He deserves it.

But damn, do I miss those Channie’s hugs.

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 ; 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

He leans in, impossibly closer, the sudden traces of what had to be his cologne; smoke, musk, sandalwood overtaking your senses. “Ever been to a live show?"

“Does watching my friends drunkenly butcher ‘Bikini Kill’ in karaoke count?” you tease, sucking in your bottom lip for a second. Minho's eyes briefly flick down to catch the movement, his smirk deepening.

“I was thinking something a bit... louder.”

────୨ৎ────

𝐜𝐰 : substance use (cover your drinks, don't accept anything from strangers, know the risks, etc...)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : romance, tension, rock/band au, aespa cameo :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 2.1k

𝐚𝐧: hi !! this is kinda a feeler for a series I'm looking to do in the future... if you want more parts, interact pretty please !!

if you aren't an aespa fan, no worries!! the fic is abt minho, the aespa members just play side-characters.

metalhead minho is my roman empire.

AND HE'S TATTED 🥵🔥

────୨ৎ────

The amber glow of the restaurant’s lights pours over your table like molten gold draping everything in a soft, velvety haze. The hum of conversation undulates in the background, weaving through the occasional clink of silverware and the low murmur of distant laughter. Yet within your booth, nestled in the plush leather seats, the world feels intimate, almost suspended in time—just you and your closest friends, insulated in your own little cocoon. Half-finished plates are scattered across the table, and in between bouts of laughter, you absently reach for another bite.

Karina leans forward, her eyes gleaming with mischief, lips curling into a smile that threatens to pull everyone else into her orbit. “Remember that time in Paris?” she begins, her voice soft yet brimming with amusement, as though the memory itself is a secret she’s about to unveil. “You got us hopelessly lost searching for that underground record store.”

A laugh escapes you, shaking your head in protest. “I was aiming for spontaneity. It was supposed to be an adventure.”

“Adventure?” Winter cuts in, swirling the ice in her glass with a lazy flick of her wrist. The glass catches the light, refracting it in delicate shards as she points it your way. “We ended up in some back-alley labyrinth, and you were the only one not remotely concerned—determined as ever.”

Giselle nudges you with a playful jab of her elbow, her grin infectious. “But it all worked out! We stumbled into that adorable café, and you totally charmed the waiter with your flawless French.”

A flush rises unbidden to your cheeks, the memory warm and effervescent, like the alcohol bubbling in your veins. You sip from your glass, feeling the familiar burn glide down your throat, its heat spreading through your chest in a slow, pleasant wave.

Ningning, lounging back in her seat with an air of theatrical satisfaction, flips her hair with a flourish. “Please. Nothing compares to Tokyo. The impromptu karaoke session? Birthday Girl over here killed it.” She punctuates the memory with a grand, exaggerated bow in your direction, prompting the table to erupt in laughter that fizzes like champagne—light, giddy, impossible to contain.

You raise a brow, heat creeping into your cheeks under their teasing. “Oh, come on. You’re overselling it.”

Karina’s grin softens, her eyes locking with yours, her voice slipping into something more sincere but still tinted with tipsy mumbling. “Hey, I– we only speak the absolute truth.”

Before the moment can tip into something overly sentimental, Giselle raises her glass, her smile radiant, cutting through the dim lighting like a beacon. “To birthdays, to unforgettable nights, and to us,” she proclaims, her voice bold, lifting the atmosphere. “Happy birthday.”

The crystalline sound of clinking glasses resonates, cutting through the hum of the restaurant, marking the moment like a delicate chime. You drain the last of your drink, the warmth settling deep into your bones, sinking further as the night deepens. The laughter dies down, but the air remains thick with the joy of the evening.

Pushing yourself up from the booth, you announce with a playful smile, “Alright, I’m getting us another round.”

Winter pouts immediately, her lips curving in mock protest, her tipsy indignation palpable. “No way—it’s your birthday! Someone else should do it!” She casts a playful glance at Karina. “You’re the oldest. Go.”

Karina feigns a glare, already starting to slide out of the booth, but before she can rise, you place a hand on her shoulder, gently halting her. “No, really, I’ve got it. I need to stretch my legs, anyway.”

With their drink orders filed away in your mind, you make your way through the maze of tables, weaving between chairs with an easy grace. The bar’s honey glow envelops you as you lean against the counter, the polished wood cool beneath your fingers. In the reflection of the liquor bottles, you catch a glimpse of yourself—cheeks flushed, eyes slightly glazed with contentment, hair tousled from hours of laughter. You smile to yourself, the warmth of the evening thrumming through you like a quiet pulse, wrapping you in its languid embrace.

Then, the bartender turns your way.

His presence pulls you out of your thoughts as though gravity itself has shifted. And wow, he’s like something out of a dream; The kind of man who looks too flawless to exist outside the confines of a renaissance painting—his chiseled jaw, the curve and gentle pout of his lips, his eyes with a depth and darkness that seem almost feline in the dim light. His black t-shirt clings to his broad chest, the neckline a little too low for your heart to keep steady, and dark-washed jeans hug his frame in a way that should be illegal. The amber glow of the bar’s lights only enhances the ethereal glow of his skin, casting golden flecks along his cheekbones. You wonder for a split second if this man was sculpted out of marble, crafted by hands too talented for this world. He’s too surreal, too perfect to have just... walked up to you in the middle of your birthday.

For a moment, you wonder if touching him would feel like running your fingers over polished marble. He’s too perfect, too unreal, like something the universe conjured up just to mess with you. The kind of guy you only meet in your wildest dreams or movies with all too-high production values. Broad shoulders, cat-like eyes that glint in the light, and a subtle smile that hits like a slow burn.

As he approaches, your brain scrambles for the right words—poetic, sophisticated words to match this moment. Celestial, maybe. Or mesmeric. Anything to capture the feeling of him coming closer. But the alcohol muddles your thoughts, and before you know it, he’s right there in front of you, breaking whatever spell you’ve been under.

“What can I get you, birthday girl?” His voice is smooth, rich, and velvety, as intoxicating as his looks.

You blink, thrown off by the title. "...How’d you know?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity, attempting to ignore the way your pulse speeds up as his gaze meets yours.

He smirks, nodding toward the sparkly ‘birthday girl’ crown Winter forced you to wear earlier in the night. You let out a soft ‘ahh,’ feeling a little sheepish, before rattling off your friends’ orders, tacking on a drink for yourself.

He nods, grabbing bottles from the shelves behind him, and when he turns back, it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time again. His features—so sharp and beautiful—still take you off guard. Sharp yet soft in a way that doesn’t quite make sense, and his body moves with the kind of grace that seems too deliberate for someone just casually making drinks.

Then you notice the tattoo.

It snakes along his left forearm, lines of inky black running from his elbow to his wrist—straight, thin, mesmerizing in their simplicity. But as your eyes trace the design, you see how the lines break, shifting into jagged shapes, forming a waveform—Like little mountains extending in different shapes toward his elbow or the asymmetrical rise and fall of lines on a heart rate monitor. The longer you stare at it, the more the sight of it uproots memory deep in your mind. Music stores, underground record shops — this design was the cover of an album. 

Without thinking, the words spill from your lips. “Unknown Pleasures.”

The bartender glances at his arm, like he’s forgotten it’s even there, pausing mid-pour. It’s not fresh but not faded either. Maybe not professionally done. It’s one of the coolest tattoos you’d ever laid your eyes on.

His brow quirks up in surprise, and he shoots you an impressed look. “You like Joy Division?”

“I know some of their stuff,” you say, leaning on the bar, the alcohol loosening your tongue. “But that album cover is iconic. Anyone who knows good music would recognize it.”

He hums, a low sound of approval, and resumes pouring. “You have taste.” His eyes flick up to meet yours, and there’s something magnetic in his gaze, like he’s trying to read between the lines of your casual small talk. “I’m Minho, by the way.”

His name rolls off his tongue like honey, and you can’t help but smile at the sound of it. God, everything about him is so effortlessly cool. "Nice to meet you, Minho," you reply, a smile overtaking your features.

Minho slides the drinks across the bar, but instead of stepping away, he leans against the counter, his forearms resting on top. It makes the muscles in his arms stand out even more, and you have to consciously avoid staring for too long. “...And you are?” His voice is even softer now, laced with something playful.

"Ah, but I like ‘Birthday Girl,’" you tease, your heart fluttering as you hold his gaze.

Minho chuckles, tilting his head, and a few strands of his dark hair fall over his brow, catching in the light. “Gotcha.” He flashes a grin before raising his brow in mock seriousness. “So, birthday girl, are you a diehard rock loyalist?”

You laugh, the sound a bit breathless. "I like it well enough, but I wouldn’t call myself a ‘diehard.’ Not any more than you, Mr. Joy Division." You gesture toward his tattoo again, earning another one of those perfect, disarming laughs from him.

“Right, right.” He nods, setting the tequila bottle down on the bar. 

Minho’s grin lingers, and for a moment, there’s only the soft hum of music in the background and the clinking of glasses at the busy bar. “Joy Division’s a bit of a gateway,” he admits, tapping a finger on the counter like he’s keeping the tempo of the conversation with an imaginary beat. “People always get stuck on the ‘Unknown Pleasures’ cover, but if you really listen, you feel something raw. It’s dark, but it’s honest, you know?”

You nod, feeling the weight of his words. "Yeah, it's like they put all the messy parts of life into their music. There's a beauty in it, though, in the way it’s all laid with intensity."

Minho’s eyes spark with something unspoken, and he leans in a little closer. "That’s the thing with rock. It’s not just music; it’s an attitude, a way of seeing the world. Joy Division, Bowie, The Clash… they all seem to dig into something real."

The conversation feels intimate now, like you’re peeling back layers of the noise around you and finding something genuine. “So, what’s your go-to?” you ask, curious to see where his mind wanders next.

He hesitates, the playfulness dropping for a beat as he considers the question. “Right now? Velvet Underground, especially their early stuff. There’s this raw edge to it, like they weren’t trying to make everyone happy. They just... were.”

You smile at that. “That explains the tattoo then. You’ve got a thing for the underappreciated, the overlooked.”

Minho tilts his head, that grin returning with a soft edge. “Maybe I do. Maybe I just like what sticks with me long after the song’s over.”

You feel your heartbeat quicken. There’s something about him—the tattoo, the casual confidence, the way he talks about music like it’s tied to his soul. It’s intoxicating, and you’re not sure if it’s the tequila or him making your head spin.

He leans in impossibly closer, the sudden traces of what had to be his cologne; sea, musk, sandalwood overtaking your senses. “Ever been to a live show?"

“Does watching my friends drunkenly butcher ‘Bikini Kill’ in karaoke count?” you tease, sucking in your bottom lip for a second. Minho's eyes briefly flick down to catch the movement, his smirk deepening.

“I was thinking something a bit... louder.” His gaze holds yours for a beat too long, and he shifts slightly, reaching beneath the counter for a shot glass. “There’s a show tonight at 10. Over at the venue on Cedar, few blocks from here. You know it?”

You nod, the name sparking recognition. “The place by the Seven Eleven?”

“That’s the one. I’m off at nine, was thinking of going.” His eyes gleam in the low light as he shifts his weight, gaze momentarily flickering behind you. “You should stop by. Bring your friends, if you want.”

You glance back at your table, where your friends are obviously watching your interaction with the hottest bartender on earth, their heads darting down the moment you catch their eyes. With a soft laugh, you turn back to him, the pull of his offer heavy in the air. “I’ll think about it, bar man.”

His smile widens, a flicker of something mischievous dancing in his eyes. "I’ll take that as a yes."

Before you can reply, a group at the end of the bar calls for another round, and Minho gives you a look that feels like the end of something and the beginning of something else. He steps away with a “duty calls”, but not before placing a shot of tequila in front of you.

You arch an eyebrow, already shaking your head as the glass catches the low light, amber liquid gleaming beneath the bar’s glow. “I didn’t order this.”

His smirk widens, slow and deliberate, like he’s holding onto some small, secret amusement. “It’s on the house. It is your birthday, after all.”

He turns to go, but pauses just long enough to toss a final parting line over his shoulder, his voice a little softer, almost teasing. “See you at the show.”

────୨ৎ────

comment to get notified for pt. II !!

ty for reading, more soon to come... prepare yourselves for hot ass rockstar lino. yummy.

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

𝐬𝐤𝐳 𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜/𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ☆♪

(hyung line)

let me know if you guys want the maknae line !!

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 ; 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈

In the quiet intimacy of a shared art studio, two artists navigate the delicate balance between creative passion and unspoken desire, their bond deepening in the shadows of late-night work sessions. When the lights flicker off one evening, the darkness reveals feelings that neither can easily ignore, leaving them both wondering what will come to light when the power returns.

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 !! : this is PART TWO of an incomplete series. series should be read in order. but please revisit after part one!! this part is the best :)

link to part one !!

part three - unreleased

part four - unreleased

𝐜𝐰 : none, all ages are welcome to read :)

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : slow-burn, artist au, student au, fluff, romance

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3.1k

────୨ৎ────

A week has drifted by since that night, the days dissolving into a haze of sculpting, studying, and long hours in the studio. Time has become a blur—hours blending seamlessly into each other, punctuated by the occasional exchange between you and Hyunjin. Most of it is practical, a brief critique or a casual comment as both of you bury yourselves in your work, racing against the exhibit deadline. The drawing he made of you remains unspoken, a quiet secret between you two. Still, you’ve pinned it beside your desk like a silent reminder to breathe, to find moments of calm when the weight of your looming deadline presses too heavily.

But tonight, the air feels different. The pressure that weighed you down for days seems to have lifted, replaced by an uncharacteristic lightness. The studio, usually quiet and filled only with the sound of brushes against canvas or clay beneath your fingers, hums with the sound of conversation between you and Hyunjin. Laughter spills through the air, mingling with the gentle tap of brushes and the soft rhythm of hands shaping clay. There’s a palpable sense of relief, of anticipation—it’s as if the finish line is finally in sight, and with it comes a shared sense of celebration. 

You glance up from your work, catching sight of Hyunjin across the room accidentally smearing a streak of paint across his cheek, totally oblivious. A laugh bubbles up from your chest, unbidden and full of warmth.

"Hyunjin," you call, amusement thick in your voice. "You’ve got a little something there."

He pauses mid-stroke, turning to face you and swiping at the wrong side of his face with the back of his hand, further smearing the paint. “Here?” he asks, grinning as he makes it worse, the streak now extending across his jaw.

You shake your head, trying and failing to stifle your laughter. "No, now it's worse!" You can’t help but giggle, your cheeks aching from the joy that’s bubbled up between you all evening. 

Hyunjin looks at you with mock seriousness, striking a ridiculous pose. “Artist’s choice,” he declares, raising his hand dramatically. “It’s performance art.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you try to refocus on your sculpture. “Yeah, sure,” you mutter, but your smile remains, lingering even as the laughter fades into the hum of the room.

Just as the energy begins to settle, there’s a sudden, eerie low hum—a sharp click—and then, without warning, the studio is plunged into darkness. The lights and the faint buzz of machinery disappear, leaving the space in near-total blackness. Your breath catches as your eyes slowly adjust, drawn to the weak glow of the emergency light flickering above the door.

“Whoa,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice breaking the silence. There’s something different in his tone now—like playful cautiousness. “That’s... ominous.”

You glance around, taking in the shadows that loom in the corners of the studio, your familiar workspace suddenly feeling strange and unfamiliar. “Is this part of your ‘performance art’?” you quip, hoping to lighten the tension with a grin.

Hyunjin chuckles, the sound echoing softly in the dim light. “Oh, totally. I’m calling it ‘The Art of Panic: A Study in Darkness and Deadlines.’"

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Very avant-garde. I’m sure the critics will love it.”

He grins, setting down his brush and wiping his hands on his paint-splattered jeans. “I can already hear the reviews: ‘A profound exploration of creative breakdowns under pressure.’”

You both laugh, but the darkness adds a new layer to the moment, the weight of the room pressing in around you. You squint toward the fuse box at the far end of the room, a shadowy shape against the wall. “Think we blew a fuse?” You ask, squinting into the dim studio as you start toward the metal box. Hyunjin follows close behind, his slippered footsteps soft on the concrete floor.

“Maybe,” he replies, his voice carrying a playful lilt. “Or it’s a sign from the art gods telling us to take a break for once.”

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, but your pulse quickens in the stillness, the darkness adding an odd sense of intimacy to the room. “Maybe they’re right... but we’re so close.”

“True,” Hyunjin murmurs, his voice lower now, softer. You can feel him just behind you, his presence a comforting weight in the dark. “But I don’t think we’ll get much done when we can’t see anything.”

As you step forward, your foot catches on a used paint rag, and you stumble. Before you can fully catch yourself, Hyunjin’s there—only instead of smoothly pulling you upright, his hands fumble, knocking into your shoulder before sliding awkwardly down to your waist. He stumbles a little himself, trying to steady you both, nearly tripping on his own feet in the process.

“Whoa—wait—okay, I got you,” he mutters, laughing nervously as he barely manages to hold you upright, though not without a bit of flailing. His grip is clumsy, but somehow, he keeps you from falling entirely, his hands still resting on you, a little too long.

You’re breathless, half from the stumble, half from how close you are. “Thanks,” you say, though a small laugh slips out with the word.

Hyunjin scratches the back of his neck, clearly flustered. "Yeah, no problem. Good thing I’m so... coordinated." His sheepish smile is barely visible in the dim light, but you can see the flush of color creeping up his cheeks. The moment stretches, and for a brief second, the world around you seems to disappear, leaving just the two of you in the stillness. The air is thick with anticipation, every heartbeat echoing in the silence.

But Hyunjin sharply and suddenly pulls his hands away from your hips, nearly dropping you in the process. “Oh—sorry!” he stammers, his face turning red as he stumbles backward, putting a little too much distance between you. Realizing just how close you were, he rushes toward the fuse box with a nervous clearing of his throat. "Uh, let’s see..." he mumbles, awkwardly feeling along the wall until his fingers find cold metal.

You stand behind him, arms crossed, watching with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “You sure you know what you're doing, Mr. Electrician?” you tease lightly, biting back a smile as you hear him fumble with a few switches.

"Oh, Absolutely not," he replies with a huff, flicking a few switches. You both pause. No light. He turns around, shrugging with a helpless grin. “Well, I tried.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Darkness it is.”

With the power still out and no clear solution, the two of you make your way toward the couch, the faint glow of the emergency light barely cutting through the shadows. You both opt to sit on the floor, leaning back against the couch since the low light illuminates the floor a little better. It feels more intimate, closer than you’d normally sit. You’re shoulder to shoulder, your knees almost touching, and you can easily see the faint curve of his smile, the soft glow casting gentle shadows over his face. 

"Well, this is cozy," he jokes, shifting slightly but making no effort to move further away. You nod, your voice softer now. "Yeah, not so bad... Could be worse."

Hyunjin grins, his eyes flicking to yours in the dim light. "At least we’re not alone in here. I’d be totally freaking out.” 

You smile, your voice lowering as the weight of the quiet settles around you both. "I think the dark makes it kind of peaceful, actually."

For a moment, you both fall silent. The air between you feels thicker, heavier—charged with something that’s been lingering for weeks but hasn’t quite surfaced. It’s strange how the darkness makes everything feel closer, more vulnerable. You glance at him, noticing how the light catches the thoughtful expression on his face as if he’s about to say something but is holding back. You can faintly see the paint smeared across his cheek.

“So,” you begin, your voice quiet as you shift a little closer, “What now? We just sit here in the dark until the power magically comes back?”

He chuckles softly, his gaze turning back to you. “Guess we could... or, we could just talk. About something other than art for once.”

You raise a brow. “That’s a dangerous idea. What else is there besides art?”

He laughs, but this time the sound is softer, more intimate. “I don’t know…” He pauses, his eyes brightening with a spark of mischief. Suddenly, he jumps and turns to face you fully, his expression serious yet playful. “How about this: We each take turns asking a personal question, and… we keep going until the power comes back on.”

You nod, amusement dancing in your eyes. “Mkay, deal.” You reach out and playfully shake hands, sealing the pact with a grin. “You start.”

"Okay, okay," Hyunjin says, rubbing his hands together, a playful glint in his eyes, but there’s something beneath it—anticipation, maybe. His fingers linger against his palms a little too long, his excitement almost palpable in the dim light. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to try but haven’t yet?”

You lean back against the surface of the couch, feeling the fabric against your skin, and take a moment to collect your thoughts. The soft glow of the emergency light casts shadows across his face, emphasizing the intensity of his gaze. “Hmm, that’s a good one… I’ve always wanted to try rock climbing.” The words spill out, and as you speak, you watch his expression sharpen, intrigued. “The idea of being up high, seeing everything from a different angle... It just seems thrilling.”

His nod is slow, thoughtful, and the silence stretches, heavy with the weight of your shared vulnerability. Hyunjin’s eyes never leave yours, as if he’s trying to decipher something deeper. “What about you, Hyunjin?” You hold your breath, feeling the intimacy of this exchange. 

“Um… I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the guitar,” he admits, as he looks away for just a second. “Music has this way of capturing emotions that I feel I could never express through painting alone.” 

The admission surprises you, tugging at something within. “Really?” Your heart quickens, the atmosphere between you thickening. “I can totally see you jamming out. I’d love to hear you play.”

Hyunjin’s cheeks flush, the dim light catching the shy smile that spreads across his face. He glances away, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing his features. “Maybe one day…” His voice trails off, and for a moment, the air hangs heavy with unspoken words. “Your turn.”

You draw in a deep breath, trying to shake off the flurry of emotions swirling inside. “Okay,” you reply, the weight of your next words pressing against your chest. “If you could travel anywhere in the world right now, where would you go and why?”

He leans back, but instead of creating distance, his body shifts closer, as if the dim light draws him nearer to you. “Japan,” he says, his tone lowering, almost reverent. “I’ve always wanted to see the cherry blossoms in spring and visit the art museums in Tokyo. The blend of tradition and modernity... It’s captivating. Plus, the food…”

Your smile falters for a moment, the image of him in a vibrant landscape filled with fragrant blooms filling your mind. “Now I’m hungry,” you laugh softly, trying to lighten the air but feeling the tightness in your throat. “If you ever get to go, you have to paint me some cherry blossoms.”

Hyunjin's smile widens, and there’s a newfound softness in his expression. “I’d paint you a whole garden,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread.

Your heart skips at the intimacy of the moment, a thrill coursing through you. The world around you fades, leaving just the two of you in this dimly lit cocoon. For a beat, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching long and thick with anticipation. The proximity feels electric, the soft glow illuminating the spaces between you, highlighting every detail—the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his gaze holds yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

“Okay, your turn again,” You finally say, words cutting through the shared silence.

The quiet hum of the studio fills the space between you, but the conversation flows effortlessly from one topic to another, weaving an intricate tapestry of shared thoughts and experiences. The dim light casts soft shadows that dance around you, creating an almost secretive atmosphere where every word feels like a treasured secret. Each shared story holds weight, drawing you both deeper into the moment as if the outside world has faded away. 

You find yourselves reminiscing about childhood dreams, the wild ambitions that once seemed so tangible, and the old fears that still tug at your hearts. Hyunjin leans forward, animated, as he recounts the story of the first painting he ever made. His eyes light up with mischief as he recalls how he accidentally spilled red paint everywhere, transforming the chaotic mess into something he boldly called art. His laughter is infectious, and you can’t help but imagine the scene—a young Hyunjin amidst a sea of crimson, blissfully unaware of the mess he was creating.

In return, you share your own tale, recalling a botched sculpture from high school that became a running joke among your classmates. “I swear, my art teacher insisted it was ‘deeply metaphorical,’” you chuckle, rolling your eyes at the memory. The absurdity of it all only adds to the warmth of the moment, and you both dissolve into laughter. As you exchange these stories, it feels as though you’re peeling back layers, revealing parts of yourselves that rarely see the light, creating a bond that feels both fragile and strong in the warm glow of the emergency light. 

“I think… I’m always afraid my work will never be enough,” you admit softly, in response to one of his questions, fingers absentmindedly tracing the fabric of your pants. “That no matter how much I put into it, there’s always something missing.”

Hyunjin listens, his head turned slightly toward you, his gaze steady and thoughtful. “I get that,” he murmurs. “I feel that way a lot too. Like there’s some invisible finish line, and I’m always behind it, no matter how fast I run.”

His words hang in the air, and you both sit with them, feeling the weight of shared insecurities. The room feels smaller, cozier, like it’s folding in around you two, pulling you closer.

“I think that’s why I paint,” he continues, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “It’s the only time I can quiet the noise in my head. Like, it doesn’t matter if it’s perfect. It just is, you know?”

You nod, understanding him in a way that feels almost too intimate. “And I think that’s why I sculpt. It’s like I’m shaping something real out of all that mess in my mind.”

The air feels thicker, heavy with the weight of things unsaid, things that could change everything. Your heart beats a little faster, and you wonder if he feels it too—the quiet pull between you both.

You absentmindedly reach up, intending to finally wipe the paint smudged on Hyunjin’s cheek, your fingers hovering just above his skin. The soft warmth of his face draws you in, and you can’t help but lose yourself in his eyes, those deep pools reflecting the dim light and the secrets of the moment. It feels like time pauses, the world outside your bubble fading into nothingness. The connection between you crackles with electricity, an unspoken tension hanging in the air, making your heart race.

Time seems to stretch, allowing you to soak in every detail—the way his dark hair falls softly across his forehead, the way his breath quickens slightly as your hand lingers. You can feel the intensity of his gaze holding yours, the space between you charged with a gentle tension that feels both exhilarating and frightening. It’s an unspoken acknowledgment of the connection that has been slowly building over the past weeks, a connection that feels both familiar and new.

Your heart races, each heartbeat echoing in your ears as you inch closer, captivated by the softness of his expression. The laughter and playful banter of earlier has dissipated, replaced by a quiet vulnerability that envelops you both. It’s in moments like this that you see the artist in him, not just in his works but in the way he carries himself, the way he looks at you as if you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen.

Just as your fingertips are about to brush against his skin, the lights flicker back to life, flooding the studio with bright illumination and shattering the fragile spell that had settled around you. The moment shifts, the weight of your gaze dissipating into the vibrant colors of the room. You pull your hand back, a mix of surprise and warmth rushing through you, as both of you instinctively blink against the sudden brightness.

The comfortable intimacy of the darkness dissipates like morning fog, leaving behind an awkward silence that settles between you like an uninvited guest. You glance at Hyunjin, and for a brief moment, you see the surprise in his eyes—an echo of the warmth and connection that had thrived just moments before. The shadows that had cradled your secrets are gone, and the air now feels thick with unsaid words, as if the vulnerability of the previous conversation has been exposed to the harsh glare of reality. You can’t help but notice how the bright light casts stark shadows across his face, bringing everything into sharper focus—his features more defined, yet somehow more guarded.

“Wow, that’s… bright,” he says, his voice breaking the silence, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips as he glances around the studio, suddenly aware of how exposed you both feel. The light feels harsh compared to the intimate glow of the emergency lamp, and it reminds you both of the reality surrounding your late-night musings.

He clears his throat, “Well, uh… I guess we should get back to work,” he says, his voice faltering slightly. You nod, feeling an odd mixture of relief and disappointment wash over you. The moments you shared in the dark hang heavy in the air, each of you stealing glances at the other, the earlier ease of conversation eclipsed by an unspoken tension. 

You return to your piece, fingers pressing into the cool, pliable clay as you try to channel the warmth of your earlier conversation back into your work. The creative flow feels different now—more mechanical, less fluid—as you steal glances at Hyunjin, who is busily adjusting his canvas. The moment you shared clings to the edges of your thoughts, and while the lights have returned, the lingering connection remains like a soft echo, reminding you both of the vulnerability that had sparked between you in the darkness.

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𝐚𝐧 : hope you enjoyed!! please don't hesitate to share any feedback :)

thank you for reading!! more to come soon...

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 !!

hello everyone, I'm nabi!! (she/they)

since I'm new to the tumblr writing world, I wanted to introduce myself.

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𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 : nabi 🦋

𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧 : I currently live in the california bay area

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 : 2004.01.14 january baby :)

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝 : onigiri 🍙

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 : autumn

𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐲 : writing, photography, studying, and cultural studies !!

𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 : I speak three languages, including japanese, korean, and english

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 : I've been a stay for 2 years and I'm an ot8 bias :)

𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐩𝐨𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 : I also love ateez, enhypen, aespa, and wave to earth

𝐜𝐰 : I plan to write some shorts fics that will have 18+ themes, but not all my work will be 18+ !! but if you're a minor, please be wary of what you interact with. I will monitor ages on mature posts and if a blog that interacts is underage/ageless, they will be blocked.

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :

🦋

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :

🔥

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𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :

stray kids fics

𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 :

birthday girl ; lee know x f!reader

𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠 :

ohmynabiii

[ohmynabiii]

🦋 𝐨𝐡𝐦𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐢𝐢 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🦋

𝐜𝐰 / 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 :

I plan to write some short fics with 18+ themes, but not all of my work will be for mature audiences!! if you're a minor, please be cautious about what you engage with. I will monitor ages on mature posts, and if a blog that interacts is underage or ageless, they will be blocked.

🔥 = smut. 🦋 = fluff. 💙 = angst. 📱 = social media AU.

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𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 :

birthday girl ; lee know x f!reader

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𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

Your Eyes ; one shot, smut, 5.3k words 🔥

"You know you shouldn’t. It’s reckless, wrong even. But when Minho's gaze catches yours, his eyes smoldering with that wicked promise—God, those eyes—you’re already lost, too far gone to stop."

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

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𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

coming soon...

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

Bang Chan As a Father of Two ; imagines, 1k words 🦋

romance, fluff, chan as a father of two imagines

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𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Birthday Girl ; angsty fluffy stuff, ...k words 🦋🔥

He leans in, impossibly closer, the sudden traces of what had to be his cologne; smoke, musk, sandalwood overtaking your senses. “Ever been to a live show?"

“Does watching my friends drunkenly butcher ‘Bikini Kill’ in karaoke count?” you tease, sucking in your bottom lip for a second. Minho's eyes briefly flick down to catch the movement, his smirk deepening.

“I was thinking something a bit... louder.”

romance, tension, rock/band au, aespa cameo, tatted and rockstar minho

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

Caught Red-Handed ; smut oneshot, 1.2k words 🔥

“You could feel it in the way his breath hitched every time your lips brushed against his skin, the shiver that ran through him when your fingers teased the soft hair at the nape of his neck.”

hot couch make out sesh, dry humping, love bites/hickies, subby minho

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

coming soon...

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

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𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

Muse ; multiple part series, fluff, artist/student au, 10k+ words 🦋

In the quiet intimacy of a shared art studio, two artists navigate the delicate balance between creative passion and unspoken desire, their bond deepening in the shadows of late-night work sessions. When the lights flicker off one evening, the darkness reveals feelings that neither can easily ignore, leaving them both wondering what will come to light when the power returns.

slow-burn, artist au, student au, fluff, romance.

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

Taste ; smut oneshot, 4.2k words 🔥

"The room thrummed with the sounds of the after-party, but none of it reached you or Hyunjin. Ever since you arrived at the premiere’s after-party, something electric had crackled between you, something raw and hungry. He stood across the room, mingling with the others, his features perfect under the dim, atmospheric lighting. The black tailored suit hugged his body just right, the slim cut highlighting his lean figure, while his hair framed his face with just the right amount of effortlessness. From the moment you entered the room, your golden dress flowing behind you, his eyes hadn’t left you."

slow-burn, teasing, cunnilingus/female oral sex, love bites, hickies.

Juice ; smut oneshot, 1.8k words 🔥

"Hyunjin’s fingers are stained with the fruit’s nectar, slick and glistening as he reaches into the pomegranate once more, breaking apart the seeds with a sensual precision. Each movement is a slow, deliberate seduction, his eyes never wavering from yours, their heat burning through the space between you. His body gleams under the faint light, every ripple of muscle accentuated by the juice now dripping from his lips and down his chest, tracing the sculpted lines of his collarbone, pooling in the hollow of his navel before falling lower still."

sexual undertones, nudity (pretty much), love bites, kissing, teasing, sitoph1lia

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

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𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

coming soon...

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

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𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

Flashes Of You ; one-shot, fluff, 1.6k words 🦋

“It’s always in these quiet moments, just after sunset, when the world is painted in soft twilight, that you feel most at ease beside Kim Seungmin."

romance, sweet fluff, first kiss, inexperienced

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

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𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥-𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡

coming soon...

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

coming soon...

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𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜

skz as poetic/romantic quotes ; hyung line 🦋

collection of channie hugs

channie rant ; workaholic/perfectionist talk

🦋

[ohmynabiii]

HELLO?!? 100+ likes?!? tysm for all the love on this, more is soon to come <3

🦋

𝐓𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 ; 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

switch!reader x dom!hyunjin

"The room thrummed with the sounds of the after-party, but none of it reached you or Hyunjin. Ever since you arrived at the premiere’s after-party, something electric had crackled between you, something raw and hungry. He stood across the room, mingling with the others, his features perfect under the dim, atmospheric lighting. The black tailored suit hugged his body just right, the slim cut highlighting his lean figure, while his hair framed his face with just the right amount of effortlessness. From the moment you entered the room, your golden dress flowing behind you, his eyes hadn’t left you."

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𝐜𝐰 : cunnilingus/female oral sex, love bites, hickies, teasing

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : romance, smut MDNI

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 4.2k

𝐚𝐧: this is definitely one of my favorite skz fic so far, hope you enjoy !! please don't hesitate to lmk what you think :)

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You could feel the weight of his gaze no matter where you were, like a touch that wasn’t quite there but burned just the same. Even through the chaos of clinking glasses and the endless hum of conversation, there was something only the two of you shared. His stare was heavy, consuming. It followed the curve of your body, lingering on the way the fabric clung to your hips, the delicate arch of your back. Every move you made seemed to send a shiver through him, his need becoming more palpable with each passing second.

Hyunjin had always been good at keeping himself composed in public. He could flash a smile and charm anyone in the room, hiding the darker, more intense parts of himself beneath a carefully curated exterior. But tonight, his mask was slipping. Every time you met his gaze, the hunger in his eyes seemed to grow deeper, more desperate. His fingers flexed at his side, his jaw tightened as if holding back the urge to come over and claim you right there in front of everyone.

You had to admit, you loved having this effect on him. The way you could make his breath hitch with just a look, the way his entire demeanor shifted when you so much as brushed past him. It was a silent game, one you both knew well. And tonight, you were playing it to perfection.

The golden dress you wore felt like liquid silk against your skin, the shimmering fabric catching the light with every movement. You had chosen it deliberately, knowing how much he loved the way you looked in gold. The neckline dipped just low enough to be daring, but not scandalous—though you knew it was enough to keep his eyes glued to you. And every time you crossed paths with him, you made sure to let him see just enough to drive him wild.

When you first brushed past him, it was subtle—your hand grazing his arm, a fleeting touch that left his skin tingling. You didn’t stop to look at him, but you could feel the tension in his body as you passed, could hear the subtle catch in his breath. You knew exactly what you were doing, and it thrilled you to watch him unravel, bit by bit.

From across the room, you’d give him those teasing, knowing smiles—the ones that sent his mind spiraling. Every time you caught his eye, the corner of your lips would curl just slightly, the glint in your eyes daring him to lose control. You leaned against the bar at one point, deliberately arching your back so he had a perfect view of the curve of your spine, the way the dress clung to your body like a second skin. You knew he was watching, could feel the heat of his gaze like a brand.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at you, though. It was the small things—the subtle tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed when you were close, the way he was always just a little too quick to glance away when someone else noticed his distraction. He was trying so hard to keep his composure, but you could see the cracks forming, the desire bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

You walked past him again, this time closer, your shoulder brushing his arm as you whispered, “Enjoying the view?” Your voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but the way his breath hitched told you everything you needed to know.

He didn’t respond at first, just stared at you with darkened eyes, his lips parted slightly as if trying to find the right words. You didn’t wait for an answer, though. Instead, you threw him one last teasing smile and disappeared back into the crowd, leaving him standing there, fists clenched, his desire written all over his face.

The game continued throughout the night, the tension between you building with every passing moment. Every glance, every subtle touch, was like adding kindling to a fire that was already burning hot. You could feel it. It was intoxicating, knowing you had this much power over him, knowing how badly he wanted you and how much he was holding himself back.

But you weren’t done yet. Not by a long shot.

The party was lively, the conversations flowing freely around you, but for you, there was only one focus. You walked past him again, trailing your fingers lightly across the back of his hand, a fleeting touch that left him visibly breathless. His jaw clenched, and you could see the struggle in his eyes—the need to maintain control, to keep up the pretense of normalcy, even as his desire threatened to consume him.

You couldn’t resist the urge to push him just a little further.

When the crowd shifted, and the paparazzi and press were distracted with some other celebrity, you made your move. You crossed the room, your golden dress flowing elegantly with each step, and stood beside him. Close enough for him to feel your presence, but still just out of reach. You leaned in, pretending to adjust something on your dress, your lips just inches from his ear.

"Patience," you whispered, the single word laced with playful defiance.

Hyunjin’s breath hitched audibly, his eyes narrowing as they met yours. His control was slipping, and you could see it in the way his chest rose and fell just a little faster, the way his hand twitched as if fighting the urge to reach out and pull you to him. But he didn’t. Not yet. Instead, he swallowed hard, his voice low and strained as he whispered back, “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

You smirked, your fingers lightly grazing his wrist as you whispered, “Maybe.” 

The rest of the room seemed to blur into the background, the noise and the people fading away as the tension between you reached its breaking point. You could feel the pull between you, like a live wire crackling with electricity. And you knew it was only a matter of time before he snapped.

Finally, when the moment came, he didn’t hesitate.

It was quick and subtle—a break in the crowd, the cameras turned away for just a moment. His hand found yours, fingers curling around your wrist with a firm, unspoken promise. He didn’t say a word, but his eyes told you everything: he was done waiting.

Hyunjin led you through the dimly lit hallway, the music from the party growing softer behind you as he guided you toward his dressing room. His grip was strong, but not rough, his touch filled with a quiet urgency that made your heart race. The anticipation between you was palpable, each step drawing you closer to what you both had been craving all night.

The door to his dressing room clicked shut behind you, and in that instant, the world outside ceased to exist.

The second you were alone, everything changed. The careful control he had maintained throughout the night shattered, replaced by something raw and primal. His hands were on you in an instant, sliding over your waist, his touch possessive and urgent. His breath was hot against your skin, ragged and uneven as he pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve been doing to me?” His voice was low, rough with need, his eyes dark and intense as they searched yours.

You smiled, deliberately slow, your fingers trailing up the front of his chest as you felt the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. “Maybe,” you teased, your voice soft and playful, though you could feel your own pulse quickening.

Before you could say more, his lips crashed against yours, capturing them in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was hungry, desperate, as if he had been holding back for far too long and could no longer contain himself. His hands roamed your body with a frantic need, pulling you closer, pressing you against him as his lips moved over yours, deepening the kiss with each second.

His hands slid to your waist, then lower, gripping your hips as if anchoring himself to you. His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck, where he left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch. Each kiss was rougher than the last, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving marks in his wake. You gasped when he found that sensitive spot just below your ear, your hands tightening in his hair as a low moan escaped your lips.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and shaky as he pressed a soft kiss just below your ear. “I’ve wanted you all night. I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” The way he looked at you, filled with a desperate yearning, made your heart race.

“I was just trying to have a little fun,” you replied coyly, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer as you arched into him.

His eyes darkened even more at your teasing words, a smirk dancing on his lips as he leaned in. “Oh, so that’s what you call this, fun,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, “You’ve been driving me insane all night.” He dipped down to your collarbone, pressing his lips against the sensitive flesh with an intensity that made your breath catch. “I can’t get enough of you, you know that?” His voice was thick with desire, a promise laced within his words. “You have no idea what you do to me.” Your gaze is drawn to the unmistakable bulge straining against the fabric of his tailored suit pants, a potent testament to his desire that sends a thrill coursing through you. A teasing smile curves your lips as you lean in closer, your breath warm against his ear as you whisper, “I have some idea…”

In a heartbeat, he shoves you against the vanity, the cool surface biting into your skin, a delicious contrast to the heat radiating from his body. His hands grip your waist, anchoring you in place as he leans in, his lips brushing against your neck before trailing down to your collarbone. Each kiss is both urgent and tender, his mouth exploring every inch of exposed skin as if he were savoring a fine delicacy. The sensations ignite delicious shivers that dance across your body, stoking the simmering fire within you.

With a swift, possessive motion, he turns you around, his fingers tangling in your hair, gently pulling it aside to reveal the soft curve of your back. The air thickens with tension, the silence amplifying every sound as his warm breath caresses your skin. He kisses a slow, deliberate path down your spine, each touch igniting a spark that pulls you closer to the precipice of your desires.

As he reaches the zipper of your dress, he undresses you with his teeth, his lips grazing the fabric with tantalizing precision. The way he nips gently at the material, tugging it down with both skill and hunger, sends your heart racing faster than you thought possible. The anticipation coils tight within you, your breath hitching as the fabric slips down your body, leaving your skin exposed to his fervent attention.

His tongue glides along the delicate line of your spine, trailing warmth that ignites a feverish heat throughout your body. You instinctively arch into him, feeling his presence envelop you as he plants soft love bites along the curve of your ass. Each mark sends waves of pleasure through you, intensifying the need that swirls between you. You can feel his smile against your skin, the satisfaction of marking you evident in the way he savors every inch, his grip on your hips both possessive and passionate.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice thick with longing, sending fresh shivers racing down your spine as his lips roam across your skin. His hands explore the soft curves of your body, fingers trailing over your thighs and back as if he is memorizing every contour, every dip and curve that belongs to him. The blend of his gentle touches and the raw urgency of his kisses sends your head spinning, your heart pounding with anticipation.

As he presses closer, the heat radiating from his body melds with the desire surging through your body, creating an electric tension that fills the air. The weight of his gaze is intense and hungry, like a flame fueling the fire within you, pushing you to surrender completely to the passion that pulses between you.

You feel him pull away momentarily, the sudden absence of his warmth sending a jolt of disappointment through you. But it’s quickly replaced by a gasp as you feel the hot, thick stripe of his tongue glide over your clothed folds. The contact is electrifying, and you can’t help but moan at the delicious sensation, arching your back into his touch. “Fuck, Hyunjin,” you breathe, the heat pooling deep within you.

But he pulls away again, leaving you with an annoyed grunt that mingles frustration and desperation. It’s as if he relishes the power he has over you, and before you can fully process the loss, he dives back in, trailing heated kisses along the back of your thigh. His lips are soft yet demanding, kissing a path that sends tingling sensations racing through you. Each kiss is deliberate, almost worshipful, as he takes his time, savoring every inch of your skin. You can feel the warmth of his mouth leaving lingering heat in its wake, igniting your senses.

He kisses the sensitive skin just above your knee, biting gently before sucking, creating a mark that will serve as a reminder of this moment. You’re overwhelmed, breath hitching as he moves further up your thigh, his mouth trailing soft, lingering kisses that seem to melt into your very core. The sensation is intoxicating, a mix of urgency and tender adoration that makes you tremble with need. 

As he lavishes attention on your left thigh, he becomes more fervent, leaving behind a flurry of hickeys—dark red and pink spots blooming beneath his teasing mouth. Each one feels like a brand, a claim he’s making on you, and you can’t help but squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding your body. His kisses are deep and possessive, punctuated by gentle bites that send jolts of pleasure shooting through your veins. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the anticipation building within you as he teases and torments, drawing you closer to the brink of madness.

When he finally finishes with your left thigh, he leans in to stripe a slow, deliberate lick just beside your clit, and your breath hitches as you feel the heat radiating from his mouth. His breath is hot against your most sensitive spot, and you groan, a mixture of annoyance and need flooding your system. “You’re driving me crazy,” you whimper, the words barely escaping as desire envelops you like a warm blanket.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through your body and sending ripples of pleasure coursing through you, but it only ignites your hunger further. “Patience, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and dripping with seduction, and you can’t help but regret the way you toyed with him earlier in the night. The tide of need surging within you is overwhelming, and every fiber of your being craves him.

With tantalizing slowness, he eases his attention to your other thigh, his lips brushing over the skin with feather-light kisses, sending shivers of anticipation rippling through you. He plants soft kisses along your ass as he glides past, his mouth warm and inviting. As he shifts his focus, you can feel the intensity of his desire, a palpable energy that heightens your own.

He begins to explore your other thigh, his mouth creating a trail of heated kisses that bloom into marks like the ones on the other side. His lips dance over your skin, each press of his mouth igniting fresh waves of desire. He bites gently, leaving behind an array of hickeys, the combination of pain and pleasure making you gasp. You can feel the pressure building within you as he laps at your skin, his tongue warm and teasing.

“Hyunjin,” you moan, frustration spilling over in your voice as he draws out the moment, taking his time to savor every inch of your thighs. You’re dripping through your underwear now, the damp fabric clinging to you as you let out soft, frustrated sighs and groans, your body begging for more. 

He continues his relentless assault, alternating between teasing kisses and gentle bites, his mouth working its magic, leaving behind marks that tell the world who you belong to. The sensations are overwhelming, a dizzying mix of pleasure and impatience as he makes his way back up your thigh, his tongue swirling against your skin with a deliberate slowness that drives you wild.

You’re shaking with need, every touch igniting a fire that burns brighter with each passing moment. The anticipation is almost unbearable, and the sounds of your breathy whimpers fill the room, mixing with the soft, wet sounds of his mouth against your skin. 

But just as the anticipation reaches a boiling point, and you start to think he has no intention of giving you what you crave, he surprises you with a deep kiss directly onto your clit. The sensation jolts through you, and you jump, a moan escaping your lips as your ass instinctively presses against his face. He buries himself in your wet heat, sucking your underwear into his mouth, savoring the taste of your juices that have soaked through the fabric. 

You can hear the soft sound of his moan as he relishes your essence, breathing in the intoxicating scent that envelops you both. In a surge of urgency, he rips your underwear down, the fabric tearing away to expose your longing. Instantly, his tongue is on you, licking through your folds with fervor, the warmth of his mouth sending shockwaves up your spine. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking it with a delicious pressure that has you gasping, your body arching toward him as you feel the heat building within.

“Don’t stop,” you groan, your eyes rolling back as pure pleasure washes over you when you feel his fingers slip inside you. But instead of finding a rhythm like he usually would, he simply leaves them inside, teasingly still as he showers kisses on your inner thighs, making you writhe in desperation.

With every gentle kiss he plants, your frustration grows, a mix of pleasure and impatience flooding your veins. You instinctively try to press your hips back, seeking more friction, more of him. But he responds with a firm grip, pressing you further into the cool surface of the vanity with his other hand. You let out another desperate “fuck,” the sound barely contained as you grasp the edge of the table, your fingers digging into the wood for support.

Your legs shake, threatening to give out under the delicious strain of need. The sensation of his fingers buried deep inside you, coupled with the relentless assault of his mouth, sends you spiraling. The heat pooling in your core intensifies, every flick of his tongue and press of his fingers driving you closer to insanity. You’re lost in a haze of sensation, each moment stretching out as the pleasure ebbs, leaving you gasping for release.

“Hyunjin, please,” you plead, your voice shaky with desire, craving more of his touch, more of everything. But he just chuckles softly against your skin, the sound vibrating through you, igniting the fire that burns even brighter. 

He responds to your plea with a sultry grin, the corners of his mouth quirking up as if he enjoys the power he holds over you. “You want more, baby?” he teases, his breath hot against your glistening folds, sending shivers down your spine. Without waiting for an answer, he dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit with tantalizing precision, sending you tumbling deeper into the bliss he’s creating. The sensations are overwhelming, a mix of heat and urgency that makes your heart race. Each flick of his tongue ignites a spark, and you can feel the familiar coil of pleasure tightening within you, threatening to snap at any moment.

He picks up the pace, alternating between sucking your clit and plunging his tongue into you, each movement more fervent than the last. Your moans fill the dressing room, echoing off the walls as you lose yourself in the rhythm he creates. The pressure builds with every deliberate motion, and you feel yourself spiraling closer to the edge, a dizzying mix of pleasure and need. His fingers, still buried deep inside you, finally begin to move, curling and pressing against that perfect spot as he pushes you further.

“Hyunjin, I’m—” you gasp, unable to finish your thought as the waves of pleasure crash over you, each one stronger than the last. You can feel the heat pooling low in your belly, a tidal wave of sensation that threatens to overwhelm you. He hums against you, and it only serves to heighten your need. The world around you fades, leaving only the sweet sound of your breathing and the exquisite taste of him.

“Let go, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and thick with desire. The command ignites something deep within you, and with a final, desperate thrust of his fingers and a flick of his tongue, you shatter. The pleasure floods through you, white-hot and all-consuming, as you scream his name, the sound spilling from your lips as your body quakes in ecstasy. He doesn’t let up, riding you through the waves of your climax, each aftershock sending you higher as he keeps you teetering on the edge of bliss, leaving you breathless and utterly spent.

As the last waves of pleasure ripple through you, you slowly come back to reality, your breath still heavy and uneven. Hyunjin softly pulls away as you turn to face him, his gentle hands helping guide you around. You feel a rush of warmth as he looks up at you, a mixture of satisfaction and adoration reflected in his darkened gaze. He leans in, planting tender kisses along your thighs, lingering on each mark he left behind.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low and warm, laced with concern. His fingers find your waist, stroking gentle patterns on your skin, grounding you in the afterglow. You nod, a smile breaking across your face as you catch your breath, feeling cherished and adored. 

“More than okay,” you reply, the thrill of pleasure still dancing in your veins. He grins, that beautiful, playful smile that never fails to make your heart flutter, and you can’t help but reach out, cupping his face and pulling him closer for a sweet kiss. It’s soft and lingering, filled with the warmth of shared intimacy, a stark contrast to the heated passion of just moments before.

Hyunjin wraps his arms around you, pulling you against him as he leans back against the vanity, his warmth enveloping you. You melt into him, resting your head on his shoulder as you both take a moment to bask in the aftermath. The room feels quiet and safe, the chaos of the party outside a distant memory.

“You had me a little worried there,” he murmurs, fingers brushing through your hair as he looks down at you, his eyes softening. “I’ve never seen you so needy before..” 

You laugh softly, the sound light and airy, your heart swelling with affection for him. “Only for you,” you tease, lifting your head to meet his gaze, feeling a new wave of warmth flood your cheeks. “I didn’t know you could be so… intense.” 

“Only for you,” he replies, matching your tone, but sincerity rings in his voice. He brushes a thumb over your cheek, his touch gentle and tender. You can’t help but lean into his touch, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

After a few quiet moments, he reaches down and gathers your underwear from the floor, a playful glint in his eyes. “You might want these back,” he says, smirking as he tosses them to you. You laugh, the sound echoing lightly in the room, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Thanks,” you say, shaking your head but grinning as you slip them back on, feeling the soft fabric against your skin. He watches you, a satisfied smile on his lips, as if he’s just completed a masterpiece. 

“Should we get back out there?” he asks, his tone teasing but laced with warmth. You nod, feeling the lingering effects of your climax settle into a comfortable hum within you.

“We could…” You meet his gaze with a soft smile, “But I think rumors might spread about the K-pop idol with a hard-on at the afterparty.” You gesture to his pants, and he looks down with a laugh, a flush creeping into his cheeks as he adjusts himself.

“Yeah, I might need to do something about that,” he replies, an impish glint in his eyes. 

You smirk, leaning closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, “How about I return the favor?” His eyes widen, the playful warmth shifting into something more heated as he locks onto your gaze, the tension between you thickening once again. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” he murmurs, a teasing grin spreading across his face. The night is far from over, and you both know it.

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🦋