For The Wip Game ^-^

Thank you!! This is such an incredible compliment ILYSM! 💕

𑁍ࠬܓ 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ( stray kids )

❛ In which the members of Stray Kids navigate the world of fatherhood without you.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 + female reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) 4.4k

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ This request was absolutely devastating to write, thank you! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Y/N has passed away, each member is a single father still in love with you, mentions of grief, some of the kids fall under the LGBTQ+ community.

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

꒰ 🫙 ꒱ ミ Tip Jar!

방찬 ── BANG CHAN.

Chan's office was bathed in the soft, amber glow of the desk lamps, casting a warm yet somber light across the room. The gentle hum of the night time silence was broken only by the rhythmic, soothing breaths of his three-year-old daughter, who lay peacefully on the worn leather couch. Her tiny face, so serene in slumber, was a haunting mirror of your beautiful features, stirring a profound ache in Chan's heart.

As he watched her, tears began to silently trace their way down his cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of his sorrow and longing. He could still hear your final, trembling words: "Love her twice as much in my absence." The memory was a dagger, twisting with the relentless guilt and grief that had become his constant companions. The sight of his daughter's innocent face, so reminiscent of you, only deepened his anguish.

Today had been especially trying. Chan had promised his little girl a joyous outing to the park, a precious respite from his hectic work schedule. But the day took an unexpected turn when Changbin called in a panic, frantically searching for the nearly completed recording of their latest song. What Chan had hoped would be a swift resolution morphed into hours of desperate searching, only to end in the devastating realization that they would have to begin the recording anew.

All the while, his daughter’s patience wore thin. She had no toys, no distractions, just the suffocating boredom of waiting. Her disappointment was palpable, a silent reproach that cut deeper than any words could. Chan felt like he was failing her, failing in the promise he had made to you. Driven by the need to make amends, he gently woke his daughter. Her initial crankiness gave way to curiosity as he apologized for breaking his promise and proposed a sleepover at home. Movies, games, a fort, and endless cuddles — her eyes sparkled at the thought, and her frown dissolved into giggles.

At home, they transformed the living room into a magical fortress of pillows and blankets, a sanctuary just for them. They watched animated tales, played games, and reveled in the simple joy of being together. Wrapped in the cozy embrace of their fort, she eventually succumbed to sleep once more, nestled against him. Her hair, a tousled mess, and a small trail of drool on his shirt were endearing reminders of her tender age and boundless trust in him.

Chan held her close, his heart swelling with love and a bittersweet yearning. She was the living embodiment of his heart, and as he gazed at her, he whispered a vow into the stillness of the night. He promised to love her with all his might, carrying the weight of both his love and the part of you that would forever reside in their lives. In that quiet moment, amidst the echoes of his promises, he felt a fragile sense of peace, knowing that as long as he held her, he was keeping your memory alive.

이민호 ── LEE MINHO.

Minho lay in the dim, soft glow of his bedroom, shadows whispering across the walls as the twins slept peacefully beside him. Their tiny forms had claimed your side of the bed, filling the void where your presence once brought warmth and comfort. The night he returned home with the babies, he had attempted to sleep alone, but the emptiness was unbearable. He tossed and turned, haunted by the silence, until one of the babies began to cry, inevitably waking the other. In his desperation to soothe them, he gathered every pillow he could find, crafting a makeshift crib in his bed. Their delicate features softened in the calm of his presence, and they finally drifted off to sleep.

As Minho gazed at their angelic faces, hands entwined even in slumber, his heart ached with the weight of your absence. How could he begin to process this loss? You had spent almost ten months nurturing these little miracles, only to be taken away before you could revel in the beauty of their existence. Ten months of creating life, and you would never witness the serene way they held hands in their sleep. Ten months of dreams and hopes, and you would miss their first birthdays, graduations, weddings. It was unbearably cruel, and Minho’s soul was tormented by the thought.

You wouldn’t even be here to laugh about the pregnancy mix-up that had both of you convinced it would be a boy and a girl, only to welcome two beautiful baby girls into the world. His friends had offered to stay and help, but he had declined, needing the solitude to grapple with his grief. Now, in the stillness of the night, he questioned if he had made the right choice.

Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks as the full weight of his new reality settled over him. He was to raise these precious little princesses on his own, and the responsibility felt crushing. Yet, as he watched their peaceful slumber, he knew he had to summon every ounce of strength for them. They were his world now, the living, breathing remnants of your love. He vowed to cherish them, to love them fiercely, and to guide them through life with unwavering dedication, for they were all he had left of you, and he was all they had.

In the hushed silence, he whispered promises into the night, pledging to be the best father he could be. He would ensure they knew how deeply you loved them, even if you couldn’t be there to tell them yourself. And as he held them close, feeling the rise and fall of their tiny chests, a fragile peace washed over him. He knew that in every laugh, every tear, and every milestone, you would be there in spirit, guiding him, loving them, always.

서창빈 ── SEO CHANGBIN.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over the park as Changbin and his 13-year-old son sat on a weathered wooden bench, savoring their ice cream. The park buzzed with the laughter of children, their joy mingling with the gentle rustle of leaves in the summer breeze. Parents lounged on the grass, basking in the last light of day, while Changbin watched his son’s face light up with a blush as he received a message.

Changbin couldn’t resist teasing him. "Who’s got you smiling like that?" he asked, his voice laced with playful curiosity.

His son’s cheeks reddened further, and he looked away, trying to hide his smile. "Just a girl from school," he mumbled, glancing at his phone. "She texted to congratulate me on today’s soccer game."

Changbin’s interest was piqued. "A girl, huh? Do you like her?" he inquired gently, but his son just rolled his eyes, keeping his thoughts to himself.

After a while, his son broke the comfortable silence with a question that took Changbin by surprise. "Dad, how did you know Mom was the one for you?"

Changbin's heart swelled with a bittersweet mix of love and nostalgia. He took a deep breath, the memory washing over him like a tender wave. "Well," he began softly, "it was before you were born. Your mom and I had only been dating for a few months. One evening, we decided to take a ride on my motorcycle to grab some food. On the way back, she spotted a bookstore and got all excited. She tapped my shoulder and pointed it out, her eyes sparkling like a child's. I couldn't say no to that."

He smiled, lost in the memory. "We stopped, and I handed her my card, telling her to get whatever she wanted. She promised she’d come out empty-handed, but I knew better." He chuckled, remembering your sheepish yet triumphant expression as you emerged with a bag hidden behind your back. "She ended up buying two books and couldn’t stop talking about them, her excitement contagious. When I told her I was glad she found something, she did this little dance of joy before climbing back onto the bike. She had to hold the bag since her backpack was already stuffed with our food, but she was too happy to care."

Changbin’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. "That’s when I knew she was the one. It wasn’t some grand gesture; it was her pure joy in the little things, her passion for life. I wish you could have known her. She loved you so much, even before you were born."

His son’s eyes mirrored his own longing and admiration. "I wish I’d known her too," he said softly. "My goal in life is to find my soulmate, like you found Mom. I want to love someone as much as you loved her."

Changbin’s heart ached with pride and sorrow. "You deserve to have someone by your side for a long time," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Then, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, he added, "Who knows, maybe this girl from school is your one."

His son groaned, a playful smile tugging at his lips as he nudged Changbin, causing his ice cream to topple onto the ground. Changbin laughed, a deep, hearty sound that echoed through the park. His own ice cream slipped from his grasp, joining his son’s on the pavement, and they both burst into laughter, the joy of the moment a soothing balm to their hearts.

In that golden hour, surrounded by the simple pleasures of ice cream and shared memories, Changbin felt a profound sense of peace. Despite the heartache and loss, he and his son would continue to find love and joy in the little things, just as you had taught him. And in those moments of laughter and connection, he felt your presence with them, a silent guardian watching over their journey, smiling at their shared happiness.

황현진 ── HWANG HYUNJIN.

Hyunjin sat alone in the dimly lit room, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a warm, golden hue over the familiar surroundings. The air was thick with memories, each piece of furniture and every stroke of paint a testament to the love and labor he had shared with you. His heart ached with a bittersweet nostalgia as he looked around, his mind filled with the echoes of laughter and the whispers of cherished moments.

He remembered the countless hours spent building the furniture, the frustration and triumph mingling as he struggled with stubborn screws, while you sat nearby, reading the instructions with a patience that never failed to calm him. The nursery walls, painted in a tapestry of happy themes, bore the marks of your combined artistic talents, creating a sanctuary for the new life you both awaited with eager anticipation.

The night he returned home with the baby, your absence a gaping void beside him, was etched into his soul. He had sat in the rocking chair, the one he had bought especially for you, cradling the fragile bundle in his arms, paralyzed by the fear of being alone. Many nights, he had dozed off in that chair, too afraid to leave its comforting embrace, haunted by the silence that your departure had left behind.

A wistful smile tugged at his lips as he recalled the day he found your child drawing on the walls, their tiny hands busy creating a colorful mural over your delicate paintings. It had pained him to see your work altered, but the sight of their concentrated little face, so much like yours, had softened his heart. He had chosen to let them be creative, to express themselves freely, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of you.

He thought of the time his six-year-old had cried in his arms, their tiny body trembling with confusion and hurt because they didn't fit in with the boys or the girls. Hyunjin had held them close, whispering reassurances, his heart breaking at the familiar pain. It had been a long journey, but he had worked tirelessly to make their home a sanctuary of love and acceptance.

The memories came in a flood, each one a cherished gem: the summer in middle school when they returned home with bags of new clothes and put on a fashion show, proudly displaying their androgynous style; the pride parade, where he meticulously placed sticky rainbow gems on their face, their giddy excitement lighting up the day; and finally, the day they graduated and moved out, leaving behind an empty room filled with the ghosts of the past.

Tears rolled down Hyunjin’s face as he sat in the rocking chair, now old and creaky, thinking of all the moments he had cherished yet wished he could have shared with you. The weight of the memories pressed down on him, a heavy, inescapable burden.

Suddenly, his phone rang, startling him from his reverie. He hastily wiped his tears and saw it was a FaceTime call from his child. He answered, and their beaming face filled the screen, the excitement in their eyes mirrored by the twinkling fairy lights in their new apartment's bedroom.

“Hey, Dad! Look at my new room!” they exclaimed, panning the camera around to show off their new space, their voice bubbling with pride and joy.

Hyunjin’s heart swelled with pride and love. “It looks amazing, sweetheart,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I miss you,” they confessed, their eyes shining with unshed tears. “Can we spend the first night together, through the phone?”

Hyunjin chuckled softly, trying to mask his lingering sadness. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of moving out?”

They laughed, a sound that was pure and unfiltered joy. “Maybe, but I know you’re in my old room crying already.”

He laughed too, the heaviness lifting just a bit. “You got me there.”

They didn’t hang up, staying connected through the screen as the night deepened. Hyunjin lay back in the rocking chair, his child propped up in their new bed, both finding solace in the familiar presence of each other. As they talked and laughed, Hyunjin realized that though you weren’t physically there, your spirit lived on in these moments, in the love that continued to bind them together. And for now, that was enough.

한지성 ── HAN JISUNG.

Jisung found his seven-year-old child hidden within the treehouse that the three of you had built together. This small wooden sanctuary, once filled with laughter and joy, now bore the heavy weight of sorrow. They were still in their funeral attire, the black clothes contrasting sharply against the soft glow of the setting sun. The murmurs of the guests lingering in the backyard became a distant, indistinct hum as Jisung climbed into the treehouse, his heart burdened with grief and a simmering anger at the universe for taking you away so cruelly.

His son's youthful face was etched with a grief that seemed too profound for such a young soul. Jisung felt a surge of helplessness as he reached out, pulling his child close, wrapping him in an embrace meant to shield him from the cruel world outside. “I miss Mom,” came the soft, heart-wrenching whisper, each word a dagger to Jisung’s already shattered heart.

“I miss Mom too,” Jisung murmured, his voice thick with unshed tears. They sat together in silence, the weight of your absence pressing down on them like an insurmountable force.

It had been nearly a year since you had fallen ill, the sickness so severe that the doctors had given you only a few months at most. Yet, you had defied their grim prognosis, your spirit burning brightly despite the frailty of your body. Jisung remembered the countless nights spent by your side, swallowing his fears and anger as you spoke of your impending death with a calm acceptance that had always made him furious. To him, it felt as though you had given up, but he knew deep down that wasn’t the case. You hadn’t wanted to waste what little time you had left fighting an unwinnable battle. Perhaps if he had truly listened, if he had embraced those fleeting moments instead of railing against them, he might have cherished your final days more deeply.

His son, too young to fully grasp the concept of death, struggled with the finality of it all. He understood that you would never return, yet accepting it was a different matter entirely. Jisung’s heart broke anew each time he saw the confusion and sorrow in his child’s eyes, a mirror of his own torment.

Holding his son tighter, Jisung wished he could find the right words to ease the pain, to make sense of a world that had suddenly lost its light. But words failed him, crumbled under the weight of their shared grief. Instead, he let the silence speak, hoping the strength of his embrace could convey the love and comfort his words could not.

The treehouse, once a symbol of their shared joy, now held their sorrow. The walls, which had echoed with laughter and dreams, now seemed to absorb their pain, standing as silent witnesses to their loss. But within this small, sacred space, surrounded by the memories of happier times, Jisung hoped they could begin to heal. He would be there for his son, a steadfast presence in the storm of their grief, guiding him through the darkness with a love that, while tested, remained unbroken.

As the last light of day faded, Jisung held his son close, both finding a semblance of solace in each other’s presence. In the quiet, grief-stricken aftermath, they began to forge a new bond, one tempered by loss but strengthened by their enduring love. And in that silent communion, Jisung found a glimmer of hope that they would eventually find their way through the darkness together.

이용복 ── LEE YONGBOK.

In a home where the relentless energy of three young girls and their single father painted every day with hues of joyous chaos, peace was a fleeting visitor. The air thrummed with the symphony of exuberant laughter, the vibrant discord of simultaneous chatter, and the relentless rhythm of youthful exuberance. Yongbok would never trade this tempestuous world for anything, yet a hollow ache lingered for the presence of the one who had been the steady heartbeat of their lives.

Your sudden departure had cast a profound shadow over their once lively abode, transforming it into a quieter realm where your laughter’s echoes were replaced by an oppressive silence. As time wove its delicate fabric over the jagged edges of grief, the house gradually adjusted to a new cadence, yet the weight of your absence hung heavy in every corner.

Despite this, Yongbok discovered fragments of you embedded within the fabric of their daily lives. He saw your essence in the selfless nurturing of his eldest daughter, who had seamlessly stepped into the role of co-caregiver. Her quiet acts of love and responsibility were a poignant echo of the devotion you had always shown, a continuation of your spirit in her every gesture.

In the middle child’s vibrant monologues about obscure topics, Yongbok glimpsed your enduring influence. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge mirrored the intellectual curiosity you had nurtured, each passionate explanation a living testament to your legacy.

The youngest, with her mischievous gleam and boundless spirit, kept Yongbok perpetually on his toes. Her playful antics and joyful mischief were a vivid reminder of the vivacity you had infused into their home, a living echo of the light you had brought into their lives.

In the quiet moments, Yongbok could still feel your presence. The post-it notes left in his lunch bag by his eldest daughter, each inscribed with a simple message of love, were imbued with your warmth. The tender strokes of his middle daughter’s fingers through his hair during their movie nights were a silent connection to you. And in the gentle inquiries of his youngest, her head peeking around the door to ensure he was alright, he felt the deep compassion you had instilled in her.

Though you were absent from the milestones and daily rhythms, your essence lived on through them. In the small, tender acts of affection and love, you continued to be a cherished part of their lives, an enduring presence in their hearts.

김승민 ── KIM SEUNGMIN.

Seungmin had been absent through the vast expanse of your pregnancy, the relentless demands of touring keeping him away. He returned just in time to witness the birth, only to be swallowed by the crushing weight of your absence. The pain of missing those precious moments with you, of not being there to share in the miracle of your last days, was a wound that never healed. This haunting regret followed him, a constant reminder of a future lost.

The day you passed, Seungmin left Stray Kids, unable to bear the weight of the stage without you by his side. He couldn’t find solace in the bright lights or the rhythms of his music. Instead, he focused on his two sons—an older one, now sixteen, and a younger one, now twelve. The older boy, once a vibrant spirit, had retreated into the shadows of his room, his once lively demeanor replaced by a sullen silence. The baseball games that had once bound them together now lay abandoned, and Seungmin, despite the storm within, knew he had to reach out.

Determined to bridge the chasm that had grown between them, Seungmin planned a day just for the two of them. He left the youngest with his closest friend, Jeongin, and took his older son out. The car ride was a quiet procession of unspoken thoughts, the weight of their shared grief hanging heavily between them. When they finally arrived at their destination, Seungmin braced himself, ready to face the tender fracture of their relationship.

It took patience, but eventually, the silence broke. The older boy revealed his feelings for a boy at school, emotions that he struggled to understand. Seungmin was taken aback, but he remained calm, his heart aching with a blend of surprise and concern. As his son’s tears fell freely, Seungmin pulled him into a tender embrace, his own heart aching with a mixture of empathy and love. He whispered reassurances into his son’s hair, promising acceptance and protection, vowing to stand by him no matter what.

The boy, still tearful but comforted, then showed Seungmin a small journal. Inside was a song he had penned, a poignant melody woven with the threads of his conflicted feelings for the boy at school. The song was hauntingly beautiful, a reflection of his son’s delicate soul and burgeoning talent. Seungmin’s heart swelled with pride and love as he listened, recognizing the echoes of his own musical spirit in his child’s creation.

As the day drew to a close, Seungmin received a snapshot from Jeongin—his youngest child, covered in dirt and beaming with the joy of a day spent playing baseball. The image was a burst of pure happiness, a vivid reminder that even amidst the sorrow, moments of light and joy persisted.

As the sun set, Seungmin felt a renewed connection with his older son, a fragile yet precious bond rekindled through their shared experiences and heartfelt conversation. Though the regret of not being there for you lingered, he found solace in the fact that he was striving to be the father you would have been proud of. In the quiet moments of the evening, he hoped, with all his heart, that wherever you were, you watched over them and felt a deep pride in the man he was becoming—a father striving to honor your memory through the love and strength he gave to your family.

양정인 ── JANG JEONGIN.

Jeongin’s youngest daughter was a restless spirit, her stubborn yet carefree nature a constant reminder of the love she once shared with you. Each burst of laughter, every defiant flicker of joy, was a living echo of your vibrant presence. In contrast, his oldest son was a mirror of Jeongin’s own meticulous nature, his life meticulously ordered, each ambition carefully planned.

Lately, Jeongin’s heart had been heavy with worry. His daughter, brimming with reckless exuberance, frequently dashed off to meet a boy Jeongin knew was unworthy. The thought of her entangled with someone without a future gnawed at him, leaving him adrift in a sea of concern. As he lay awake at night, the silence seemed to taunt him, and he often found himself wondering how you would have navigated these troubled waters if you had still been there to guide them.

One night, as the moonlight spilled softly through the window, Jeongin was wrenched from sleep by the unmistakable sound of muffled sobs. His heart raced as he followed the cries to his daughter’s room. He paused at the door, the murmur of his son’s voice cutting through the silence. The room, once a sanctuary of dreams, was now a cocoon of whispered regrets and stifled tears. His daughter’s voice wavered with the weight of her shame, confessing her feelings of foolishness for having trusted the boy. His son, with a soothing calmness that mirrored your gentle strength, reassured her that she wasn’t foolish, merely swept up in the exhilarating tide of young love. He told her she deserved better than a boy with no future, his words a soft balm to her wounded spirit.

Jeongin’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow as he heard his son’s comforting tones, the echoes of your nurturing spirit resonating in his voice. After a few moments, he gathered the courage to step into the room. His eyes were tender with understanding as he took in the scene: his daughter’s tear-streaked face, her hands buried in her lap. Her cries grew louder as she saw him, her embarrassment palpable as she shielded her face with her hands.

Jeongin knelt before her, his expression a blend of love and compassion. Gently, he reached for her hands, drawing them away from her face to hold them in his own. His touch was a lifeline, a silent promise of unwavering support.

“You told me so, I know,” she choked out, her voice a trembling whisper.

“I would never say that, my love,” Jeongin murmured, his voice rich with tenderness. He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close against his chest. His gaze met his son’s, a shared understanding passing between them.

“I know it hurts,” Jeongin whispered into her hair, his voice a soothing melody against her ear, “but this isn’t the end.” His embrace was a warm cocoon, a sanctuary of love amidst the storm of her emotions. The night unfolded in a delicate tapestry of comfort and hope, a testament to the enduring love that bound them together, even in the quiet absence of your guiding presence.

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

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @bowsnbang @nothinginterestingtoshowhere

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS! STAYBLR FUNDRAISER!

Hello lovelies!

I’ve received a couple of Asks a bit ago and I just wanted to let everyone know that I’ve seen them ( and you can continue making requests ) , I’m just still sick and my brain hardly has the capacity to form a thought , let alone produce a story but I will be getting to them as soon as possible !

chubby stays rise up !!

on that note ,,,,, could we request smth with changbin n chubby m!reader ?? (or gn!reader !! whichever you're comfy writing ^^) literally the only coherent thought we had for a minute after reading ur chan fic was 'pillow thighs' so do with that info what you will /lh

Movie Night

Pairing: Seo Changbin x chubby!m!reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None!

Words: 604

Summary: You and Changbin get ready for monthly movie night with the guys, and he starts getting very clingy. You are required by law to give him cuddles :)

A/n: Thank you sm for requesting! I haven't written for anything other than gn reader so far, so I enjoyed getting to do this. Hope you enjoy!

Movie night is one of those sacred things that no one in the friend group dare skip out on, because if they did, they'd be sacrificed to a higher being. So, here you were, getting ready with your boyfriend for movie night, because you felt you weren't quite ready to be spiritually sacrificed just yet.

As you were putting on some comfy sweatpants and a graphic tee, your aforementioned boyfriend walks up behind you and wraps his arms around your middle, sighing happily into your shoulder. You chuckled and placed your hands over his, enjoying the simple yet intimate contact.

"You're a big teddy bear, you know that? I can never escape your cuddles," you poked his arm with a playful smile on your face, causing him to pout. "Why would you want to escape my cuddles? Is it a crime to want to cuddle my boyfriend?" His tone was slightly whiny as he leaned further into your touch.

"No, but it is if you make us late to movie night. Now hurry up and put on a hoodie or something so we can leave." He grumbled quietly to himself, but he didn't protest. It only took the both of you a few more minutes to gather your stuff and put your shoes on before you were out the door and headed to the car.

The group chat was going crazy, as it always does before a movie night. Jisung and Hyunjin were arguing over what movie to watch, Minho was complaining about being forced to buy the snacks, and Felix was sending a bunch of random memes that had no correlation at all to the conversation.

On the way there, you could feel Changbin's hand reach over to rest on your knee, which made you look at him with curious eyes. "You owe me cuddles when we get there, you hear me?" You couldn't help but crack a smile and place your hand over his. "Yeah, yeah, you big baby."

When you did get there, you had to settle the argument between Jisung and Hyunjin, and then you began helping Seungmin and Jeongin with building a giant next of pillows and blankets in the living room. Changbin was talking with Chan about the pizza they were ordering. When he finished, he walked over and plopped down next to you in the nest.

"What movie did we decide on?" he asked you while leaning his head on your shoulder. Seungmin and Jeongin were putting the movie in as he asked that, and before you could answer his question, the main menu popped up on the screen. "Ah, The Nightmare Before Christmas, I see."

It wasn't long before you were all gathered in the living room and eating snacks and pizza. The movie played as you all talked and hung out, and about half way through, Changbin positioned himself to lay his head in your lap. You chuckled and began playing with his hair. "Comfy?" He was quick to nod.

"Yeah, you have pillow thighs. I'm always comfy in you lap," he smiled up at you. Your cheeks heated up slightly and you pouted down at him. "Don't say that..." you mumbled, causing him to look at you with confusion. "Why? It's true." You just smiled and shook your head, continuing to play with his hair.

The night ended with you all falling asleep in the living room. Changbin held you close as you both fell asleep, and you couldn't be more comfortable and happy. You were surrounded by your best friends, and the best boyfriend in the world. You fell asleep full of love.

172 votes?! You guys are so amazing! I appreciate each and every one of you for taking the time to help me decide what to post first, which will be ‘Till Forever Falls Apart (49.4%) with Han Jisung! I’m so freaking excited to start posting, I already have the prologue queued up to be posted later tonight, and I’ll get to work on finishing up the first chapter to be posted soon as well.

Also, for those of you who wanted to read I Can’t Change (25.6%) or The Only Exception (25%), worry not! Both of these stories will be posted once I’m done with TFFA!

choose what you want to read!

ꖛ ꙳꯬ 🦇 ‘till forever falls apart 𓂅 ໋⋅

‧₊° pairing. han jisung x idol!fem!reader

‧₊° content warnings. han deals with a lot of anxiety and depression. reader has fibromyalgia. constant mention of being in pain. love-making. cussing. lots of angst. more to be added.

‧₊° rating. 18+

‧₊° summary. in which two disabled idols find comfort in each other’s arms.

ꖛ ꙳꯬ 🌅 i can’t change 𓂅 ໋⋅

‧₊° pairing. bisexual!lee felix x male!reader

‧₊° content warnings. abuse, violence, homophobia conversion therapy, angst, mlm relationship, drug use (nothing too heavy, drinking, running away, smut, anal sex, blow job, rimming, fingering, semi-public sex

‧₊° rating. 18+

‧₊° summary. humanity was simply not made to reach the glorious sky without needing to return to the ground, this is a simple fact that both felix and y/n needed to learn one way or another. still, when each glance gets you drunk with a feeling you’d never quite experienced before, you can’t help but risk everything for his affection.

ꖛ ꙳꯬ 🏫 the only exception 𓂅 ໋⋅

‧₊° pairing. student!seungmin x student!fem!reader

‧₊° content warnings. brutal attack and kidnapping. death is mentioned a lot in different ways. neglectful parent. plot twist.

‧₊° rating: 16+

‧₊° summary. after her mother gets suddenly kidnapped right before her eyes, and her father didn’t seem to care enough, y/n embarks on a mission to save her mother with a strange boy from school to help along the journey.

reblog to spread the word!

omg deadly craving sounds AMAZING but i understand that it may be hard to write !!

also, im not doing okay, i think this is finally the moment where i should accept the fact that it has gotten bad again ?? i dont know i just really tried to push that idea out of my mind, since it really isnt that bad yet, is it? but it is in fact that bad lmao anyway, im just trying to motivate myself since my first ever exam session is in less than a month and i need to study, so thats what takes up most of my mind rn

im so sorry for venting im not gonna do it again im sorry

how about you love?🫶🏽

—👒

Maybe I’ll be able to figure out how to put it into words, until then, there’s that snippet of one of my most beloved WIPs.

Oh love, I totally understand what you mean by that. It’s hard to accept that you’re not doing as well as you’d thought sometimes, it’s frustrating too. Try to be a little kind with yourself about it though, because it’s nobody’s fault. As human beings, we’re sentenced to having our highs and lows and we just have to roll with it sometimes (easier said than done, I know). If you feel that things are going badly, try to keep in mind that it’s your brain trying to communicate with you so try and listen and be patient while you do.

What kind of exam sessions do you have, if you don’t mind me asking? Either way, I’m wishing you all the luck, I’m sure you’ll do great <3

And finally, don’t apologize! My inbox will always be open if you need someone to talk to, ask for advise or just vent! I really do mean it when I tell you to dump your problems on me if you need to, I’m here to listen.

To answer your question, I’m doing okay-ish. I’m flying out to visit my girlfriend on the 5th of this month so that’s what keeps me going. Then after that we both go back to college, which is something I’m really not looking forward to because school and me haven’t along well in a while. Don’t mind me being a burnt out former gifted child.

IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!

Hello everyone! As some of you guys may have noticed, I have been a bit inactive on my blog for a little while now. I know I had a whole Halloween event planned and everything, though I unfortunately haven’t been very successful in completing or making any progress on. The reason for this is that I’ve completely run out of the medications that help me with ADHD, which makes me unable to focus on a single thought for too long and therefore has given me writer’s block.

So, until I’m able to get my hands on the medication I need (which has been unnecessarily difficult), I will be taking a small hiatus from writing and this blog. Those who wish to contact me can do so on my Discord (it’s the same username I use here)!

Requests made prior to this announcement will be completed once I return here, but other than that, requests are now closed.

I’m really sorry for the inconvenience and/or disappointment, but this is truly what is best for me so that I don’t get burnt out or anxious. I hope you guys can wait for me :)

🤭 Call me Green, and stalk away! I’m so glad you enjoyed it!

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

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

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

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.9k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 15 mins

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊ send these stars 🌟✨💫 to your favorite blogs and remind them how bright they are! ெ♡༚

Aw you’re so cute I could cry 🥹 thank you so so much I love you so much MUAH MUAH MUAH!!!

──── * ˚ ✦ THE LAST STRAW ( stray kids )

❛ After a final argument with your toxic, manipulative mother over your irresponsible younger brother, you decide to cut ties with your family, only to be overwhelmed by doubt and panic until your supportive boyfriend, Felix, reassures you that choosing yourself was the right decision.

𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐱 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐨𝐧𝐞-𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.5k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 14 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Here's a wonderful request made by @lixies-favorite-cookie! I hope you guys enjoy, reblogs and feedback are much appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Non-Idol AU, emotional abuse, family conflict, mommy issues, mental health struggles, parental neglect, parental favoritism, depression and self-worth issues, let me know if I missed anything!

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

The kitchen feels like a war zone, the air thick with unsaid accusations and the sharp remnants of long-festered wounds. Your mother stands at the sink, her back rigid and unforgiving, hands submerged in soapy water as she scrubs a dish with a ferocity that speaks louder than words. Each stroke of her hand seems to scrape away at the silence, but instead of clarity, it only stirs the storm between you. You can almost see the tension rippling off her like waves of heat from a furnace, feeding the blaze that has been building in your chest, threatening to consume you.

“So, that’s it?” you ask, your voice taut, straining against the anger simmering just below the surface. “You’re really going to ignore everything I’ve said and expect me to drop everything—again—to drive him around?” There’s a tremor in your tone, a plea for acknowledgment masked by the bitterness of your words. But she doesn’t turn to face you. Instead, she sighs, a heavy, exaggerated breath that fills the room with disdain, as if you are the one being irrational, ungrateful.

“He doesn’t have anyone else,” she replies, her voice dripping with exasperation, as if you should already know this. “And it’s not like it’s a big deal—you’re already out and about. What’s a little detour to help your brother?”

Her words hit you like a slap across the face, stinging and familiar. “A little detour?” you echo, a disbelieving laugh slipping out, sharp and brittle. “Mom, I have a job. I have classes. I’m barely keeping up as it is. But sure, let’s add ‘chauffeur for the man-child’ to my list of responsibilities.”

At this, she finally turns, her face set in that hardened expression you know so well—eyes narrowed, lips pulled into a thin, unforgiving line. “Don’t talk about him like that,” she snaps, her voice a low warning. “He’s your brother. He’s just going through a rough time.”

A bitter, exhausted laugh escapes your lips, and you can feel the years of buried frustration rising up, threatening to overflow. "A rough time?" you repeat, your voice growing louder, each word carrying the weight of all the grievances you’ve kept bottled up for so long. “He’s been ‘going through a rough time’ for the last five years! And every single time he screws up, you’re right there, wiping his slate clean, making excuses for him. He never has to face the consequences of anything, and somehow, I’m always the one left to pick up the pieces!”

Your voice cracks, and the room seems to tremble with the force of your words. All the times you’ve been overlooked, all the sacrifices you’ve made without a second thought, all the nights spent wondering why you were never enough—everything comes crashing down in this moment. You stand there, breathless, waiting for something, anything, that resembles an acknowledgment of what you’ve endured.

But she doesn’t see it. She doesn’t hear it. She doesn’t even flinch. And that, more than anything, is what breaks you.

"That's not true," your mother snaps, her voice cutting through the air like the crack of a whip, cold and biting. "You don’t know what he’s going through. You’ve always been so hard on him, never understanding." Her words hang in the air, thick with accusation, and you feel a familiar frustration beginning to coil tightly in your chest.

You scoff, the sound escaping before you can stop it, disbelief etched across your face. "Understanding?" you fire back, voice laced with incredulity. "You mean like how you’re 'understanding' when he crashes his car because he was out partying, and you expect me to drop everything, put my entire life and future on hold, to make up for it? Or how you’re 'understanding' when he blows all his money on God knows what, and I’m the one who has to lend him my hard-earned cash so he can pay his rent? You’ve always been ‘understanding’ of him, but when have you ever been ‘understanding’ of me?"

For a moment, the room falls silent, heavy with the weight of everything that has been left unsaid for far too long. Your mother’s eyes flash dangerously, a mix of anger and frustration, a glare that once would have made you swallow your words, scramble to backtrack and apologize. But not today. Today, the exhaustion has settled too deeply in your bones, mingling with the anger that has simmered for years, bubbling to the surface.

"You think I don’t care about you?" she spits out, her voice rising, each word sharp and defensive. "I’ve done everything for you! You grew up with food on the table and a roof over your head. You have a job now, you’re in college, you have everything going for you. Do you think that just happened by itself?"

Her audacity stings, her self-righteousness fanning the flames inside you. Every vein feels like it’s on fire, adrenaline surging through your body. “No,” you say, voice trembling but strong, each word pushed out with a force that surprises even you. “Don’t you dare take credit for what little good I have in my life. Don’t you dare. Everything I have going for me is because I worked for it. I was the one who graduated as valedictorian in high school—not you, not him. I worked my ass off to get into college, scrapping for every scholarship I could find so I wouldn’t have to drown in debt later. I found my own place to live, found a job so I could pay my own bills, held myself together when everything around me was falling apart.”

Your words pour out like a flood, each one more bitter than the last. You can see her eyes narrowing, her lips tightening, but it only pushes you to keep going. “But you? Sure, you fed me, you put a roof over my head—like the law says you should. But you only ever noticed me when I was useful to him, when I made things easier for your golden child."

The silence that follows is deafening, filled with the echoes of things that have finally been said, the raw truth laid bare between you. The tension in the room is electric, the weight of years of imbalance, neglect, and misplaced loyalty pressing down on your shoulders. But for the first time, you feel something shift inside you—a spark of liberation, a sense that perhaps, just perhaps, you’ve finally stepped out of the shadow that has loomed over you for so long.

"You're being so selfish," she spits, her voice trembling with a barely controlled fury that makes the walls tremble. The dishes slip from her hands, clattering into the sink with a loud clank as she whirls around to face you. Her eyes are wild, nearly bulging out of her head, her face flushed with indignation. "You have no idea what it's like to be a parent, to have to make these kinds of decisions." The venom in her words seeps into the air, choking you with its bitterness.

But you don’t flinch. Your fists curl even tighter at your sides, nails digging into your palms as you stand your ground, locking eyes with her. "I'm selfish?" A bitter laugh escapes you, sharp and brittle, and you can feel the hot sting of unshed tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "Do you even hear yourself? You've spent years bending over backwards to coddle him, to fix every single one of his messes. And every time, it's me who gets caught in the crossfire. It's always me who’s expected to be the 'responsible one.' And what do I get for it? Nothing. Not a thank you, not a 'good job,' not even a fraction of the support and understanding you so eagerly throw at him."

Your mother’s hand slams down on the counter with a thunderous bang, making you jump. Her face is a twisted mask of rage and frustration. "You've always had a chip on your shoulder about him," she sneers, her tone dripping with condescension, as if speaking to a petulant child. "Maybe if you weren't so jealous—"

"Don't even start." You cut her off, your voice cracking under the weight of everything you’ve kept bottled up for so long. "I'm not jealous, Mom. I'm tired. I'm tired of being the one who has to sacrifice everything while he coasts through life, knowing you’ll always be there to bail him out. I'm tired of you making me feel like I’m never enough, like I’m only here to clean up his messes and make things easier for him."

The air thickens, a suffocating silence falling between you. Your mother’s face hardens, her eyes narrowing into icy slits. "If you don't like it, then maybe you should just leave," she says, her words cutting through the tension like a knife. "You're an adult now, aren’t you? You can make your own choices."

Her words hang in the air, daring you to speak, to react. For a moment, you’re stunned, the breath catching in your throat. Then, softly, like a truth you've kept buried, you say, "Maybe I should." The words taste like freedom on your tongue, a release from years of guilt and fear. "Because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep letting you use me to prop him up while you tear me down. I deserve better than this."

For a fleeting moment, something flickers in her eyes—something almost vulnerable, almost human. But it vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by the same cold indifference that has always been there. "Fine. Do what you want," she says dismissively, her tone devoid of emotion. "But don’t come crying to me when you realize you can’t handle the world I’ve protected you from."

A humorless laugh bubbles up in your throat, but you swallow it down, taking a deep breath instead. You feel the weight of years of resentment, of pain and unspoken truths, settling into place. "I won't," you reply, voice steady as a stone. "Because I've been handling the world all my life. You never protected me from it—you only ever protected your golden child. And I’m done."

You turn away, leaving her standing there, leaving behind the suffocating grip of a mother who never truly saw you. You walk out of the kitchen, out of the house that never felt like a home, and with each step, the air feels a little lighter, the world outside a little more open. For the first time, you feel the distant, hopeful glimmer of something new—something that belongs to you, and you alone.

You sit in the driver’s seat, fingers clenched around the steering wheel with a grip so tight that your knuckles have turned ghostly white. Each breath you take is shallow and ragged, barely filling your lungs. Your heart hammers in your chest, erratic and wild, a drumbeat of panic. The weight of the argument you just had with your mother crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, cold and suffocating. It presses down on you with a force that makes you feel as if you’re drowning, gasping for air but finding none.

Your eyes remain fixed on the house in front of you—your childhood home, a place that should have held comfort and warmth but instead feels like a prison. Each window, each door, every familiar detail seems to glare back at you like a hundred judgmental eyes, watching, waiting. This is where you learned the rules of a game you never asked to play. A place where love was conditional, tethered to sacrifice and silence. And now, it’s a place you’ve walked away from—perhaps for good.

Your vision blurs with unshed tears, and you let out a shaky breath that comes out more like a sob than you intended. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the sting from your eyes, but it’s useless. You can’t stay here, not in front of this house where the walls seem to whisper accusations, where every step closer feels like sinking deeper into quicksand. You can’t risk your mother storming out with that familiar fire in her eyes, her voice like a vice, twisting your emotions to suit her will.

With trembling hands, you fumble for your phone, fingers unsteady as they swipe through your contacts. You need an anchor, something to steady you before you’re pulled under by the crushing weight of it all. You find his name—Felix. Your thumb hovers for a moment, then presses the call button. You raise the phone to your ear, the screen blurring with tears as you pull out of the driveway. You don’t have a destination in mind; you just need to be moving, to put distance between you and that house.

The line rings once, twice, and with each unanswered ring, the panic coils tighter in your chest, rising into your throat like bile. What if he doesn’t pick up? What if he’s busy? What if you’re left alone with the noise in your head? But then—

"Hey, sunshine," his voice breaks through, warm and steady, like the first rays of dawn piercing through the darkest night. His tone is so familiar, so safe. "You okay? I'm just—"

You don’t let him finish. Your voice cracks as you speak, holding back the sob that threatens to spill over. "Felix...I—I did it. I told her...I told her that I'm done. I can't...I can't believe that I actually did it." The words rush out of you in a breathless stream, a confession that feels both terrifying and freeing.

There’s a pause on the other end, a silence that feels heavy with the weight of his understanding. You can almost hear him processing your words, feel the concern threading through the line. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft, careful. "You talked to her?" he asks, his tone gentle yet laced with worry. "What happened?"

His question hangs in the air, pulling at your heartstrings, inviting you to pour out the torrent of emotions swirling inside you. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like you can breathe, even if just a little, knowing that someone is there to catch you as you fall.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, a futile attempt to push back the tears that threaten to spill over. Your heart is pounding in your chest, a heavy, uneven rhythm that matches the chaos in your mind. When you open your eyes again, you force yourself to focus on the road, blinking rapidly to clear the blurriness from your vision. You suck in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, to find some semblance of calm amidst the storm raging inside you.  

"It was about my man-child of a brother again," you start, your voice wavering as you speak. Each word feels like a shard of glass, cutting through the tightness in your throat. "She wanted me to...to fucking drop everything and take care of his mess again. He crashed the damn car, and she’s not even mad at him. She was actually more pissed at me for not wanting to drive him everywhere." The bitterness in your tone is unmistakable, tinged with a raw edge of frustration that’s been simmering for far too long. "And I just...I couldn’t take it anymore, Lix. I told her I’m done. I told her I wasn’t coming back."  

Your breath hitches, and a sob finally breaks free, raw and unrestrained, as you come to a stop at a red light. The tears you've been holding back spill over, warm and unwelcome, streaking down your cheeks. "But what if I made a mistake? What if I’m wrong?" you choke out, the words heavy with doubt and fear. "I mean, they are my family at the end of the day, and I’m nothing without them. What if I...what if I shouldn’t have done this?"  

On the other end of the line, you hear a soft rustling, a familiar sound that brings a small measure of comfort. You know he’s moving, pacing like he always does when he’s worried. Felix’s voice comes through, steady and gentle, like a lifeline. "Hey, hey, take a breath for me, hmm?" he murmurs, his tone soothing. "Just breathe. In and out, yeah? I’m right here."  

You try to follow his instructions as you ease off the brake, the traffic lights changing to green. You take a deep breath in, filling your lungs, and then let it out, but the exhale is shaky, faltering, as if your body is resisting the calm he’s trying to instill. The tears keep flowing, unchecked, but his voice remains a steady anchor amidst the turbulent sea of your emotions.  

"You did the right thing, love," he continues, his voice firm with conviction—a conviction you desperately need to hear right now. "You’ve been dealing with their bullshit for so long. Too long. You deserve to let it go. You deserve to be free of it all."  

Without much thought, you turn the car to the right, feeling the pull of his reassurance guiding you, even if you’re not quite sure where you’re going. "But what if...what if Mom’s right?" you whisper, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "What if I am being selfish? I just...I grew up with this rule in my head that family always helps family, so what if I’m being a shitty person by refusing?"  

For a moment, there’s a pause, a breath of silence that hangs in the air, heavy with all the questions and fears you can’t quite voice. Felix’s next words are gentle, but they cut through that fog with a clarity that brings you back from the edge. "You’re not selfish," he says quietly but firmly. "Sometimes, family isn't about blood; it’s about who stands by you, who sees you. And you’ve been standing on your own for a long time. It’s okay to want more than just survival."  

Tears spill down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting, blurring your vision as they cascade over your skin. You press the heel of your hand against your eyes, trying to stem the flow, but it’s like trying to dam a river with a single stone—futile. The weight of everything, the argument, the years of silent endurance, crashes over you in waves, threatening to pull you under. With a shaky breath, you pull onto the side of the road, the tires crunching over gravel, and the car comes to a halt. 

"I’m scared, Lix," you confess, your voice breaking, small and fragile as it escapes you. "I’m scared that I’ll regret this." The words hang in the air, and for a moment, it feels like the world is holding its breath with you. Your heart is a clenched fist in your chest, squeezing tighter with each passing second. 

Then, his voice breaks through the silence—a warm, comforting presence that feels like a soft embrace, wrapping around you when you need it most. "You won’t," he says, his tone gentle yet firm, a soothing balm for your frayed nerves. "You know why, huh? Because you’re finally choosing yourself. And that’s not something to regret, not ever. Love, I’m not trying to say it’ll be easy from now on, but you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved for who you are, not for what you can do for someone else."

A shaky breath escapes your lips, and the tightness in your chest starts to loosen, if only a little. His words are like a lifeline, grounding you, pulling you back from the edge of your doubts. Deep down, beneath the fear and the uncertainty, you know he’s right. You’ve carried this weight for so long that it feels strange to think of setting it down. But his words are a steady anchor, keeping you from drifting away. 

"Can I come over?" you ask, your voice almost a whisper, raw and vulnerable. "I don’t... I don’t want to be alone right now." The admission feels like exposing a wound, but with Felix, it’s okay. It’s always been okay.

There isn’t a moment of hesitation before he responds, his voice filled with that unwavering reassurance you’ve come to rely on. "Of course. I’m not home right now, but I was already on my way from class, so I’ll meet you there, okay? Just stay on the phone with me until I get there. We’ll figure everything out together."  

You nod, even though he can’t see you, feeling a small, tired smile tug at the corners of your lips. There’s still a lingering ache in your heart, but it’s softer now, more manageable. "Thank you, babe," you whisper, the words heavy with gratitude and love. 

"Always," he murmurs back, his voice a soft promise that settles deep within you. "Just keep breathing, sunshine. I’ve got you. I always will."

With his voice still in your ear, you restart the car, feeling his presence as a guiding light through the darkness that’s clouded your path for so long. The road stretches out before you, uncertain and unfamiliar, but with Felix by your side—even if only through the phone—it doesn’t seem quite so daunting. 

For the first time in what feels like years, there’s a flicker of something warm blooming in your chest. Hope. Fragile, tentative, but undeniably there. And for now, that’s enough.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie @tajannah-price1 (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

Mis padres son de la ciudad de México pero yo nací y crecí aquí en los Estados Unidos. y también elegí verde como nombre porque es mi color favorito y mi lógica era que si a la gente se le puede llamar "Azul, Blanca, Red, Jade" ¿por qué no me pueden llamar Green? ja ja

ahh que brutal! yo voy a la uni por allá en los estados unidos pero en las vacaciones tengo que regresar a pr ;-;

also:

tu lógica es inmaculada, tienes toda la razón jajajaja ay no sé es que tengo una conexión con el verde desde siempre, mi vida entera está pinta’o de verde y pues 🤷