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@notmarine
#388s' r18+ sideblog. no minors allowed. viewer discretion is advised. i write for character exploration, so no plotting / ships necessary. đ§Ą
sexual preferences. usfw alphabet. sex, gender, and love.
IT SEEMS TO HAVE WORKED.   For that slither of a moment in which Dae-ho speaks to him like a person, there is success to be found. But just as any of its kind around Min-su, it is dead and gone,   buried at the hands of a solitary line.   Why does encouragement feel that way? When did it start? He remembers there used to be a bittersweetness to how it rang â   some hope blended into his cynicism which allowed him to at least smile.   It does not exist now, with time. There is no hope. There is only the truth that Dae-ho remains Dae-ho and   he remains poor pathetic little Min-su who needs to be cheered on to perform.
The shirt, he thinks,   would have been the perfect tool with which to muffle him. He wonders if he can simply use it now, though the thought is abandoned the minute it insinuates he cannot see his face as it is when he chooses.   That, in and of itself, irritates him in that it does not.   Paradox of spite and some sick sister to endearment, perhaps, that he does not want to meet. Okay, okay, okay.
It would be better if it's off, yes.       Then he can see what he does better. Then it is skin to deal with. But to hoist and pull it upward would land some tension at the bed of Dae-ho's neck. In him, again, the spite and sister yearn to get their wishes - contradictory things;   it's fine, how many times has he made you uncomfortable? and   no, no, no.
He lifts himself to sit,   still atop Dae-ho as though in desperation to keep him there.   His hand moves, though not at his own volition, to where he had planted the kiss. Index fiddles with the area, circling to keep Min-su from shattering and leaving Dae-ho to his desires alone.   He looks up at him.   "maybe ... I could ... tear it."   A tilt of head, knot of brows that is equal parts wanting and concerned with the question yet to spill.   " ... is it expensive?"
NOT EXACTLY A THOUGHT PROCESS DAE-HO HAS EVER ALLOWED HIMSELF,ăbut what is another first amongst such a vast litany of debauched,ăfledgling experiences?ămin-su suggests it,ăand,ămuch to his surprise,ădae-ho finds exhilaration bundling itself inside.ăthe sort of sickly amusement to spread a grin across his lips.ăa sight he cannot at all fathom,ăand a sight he thereby must see in execution:ăwatching tiny,ăpitiful,ăpathetic thing that min-su is,ăwrestling with swathe of cotton fabric and somehow prying it apart with pitiful,ăpathetic fingers.ă
ââăyou want to?ăââăitâs probably better off torn to shreds in some capacity.ăit sits miserably upon his frame,ăclinging too-tight against his chest,ădigging into his shoulders and revealing every line of his back should he ever have the gall to lean forward.ăit is better off with an existence of whatever min-su decides,ăspecifically,ăor perhaps dae-ho already finds himself too intoxicated by arousal to say otherwise.ăitâs just a stupid shirt.ăa stupid,ăplain shirt,ăof which he must have a hundred in his closet.ăââăfuck,ăyou wanna see me that bad that you gotta tear it off me?ăââăhe isnât sure if he means it playfully or scornfully;ădoes he speak in earnest,ăthen,ăor is this another slip of the tongue aimed to continuously impel min-su onward?ăwhat difference does it make?ăall roads are one,ănow.
maybe the snarling beast he is still does not see min-su as capable.ămaybe it is all a cruel joke on him,ăand dae-ho extricates sick amusement from watching him struggle.ăstiffness ground up into min-su,ăstill,ăpetulant and loathsome as ever,ăsays otherwise.ăthat dae-ho has something to gain from this beyond that of harassment and belittlement.ăthat he may,ăeven if only for a short while,ăentertain the idea that they are equals.ă[ăarenât they,ăthen?ăwhat does it say of his character to permit debasement from plaintive little min-su?ăwhat does it say of him when he wants more of min-su?ămore,ămore,ămore.ăa test of how far he may push the envelope.ă]
IT'S KIND OF OKAY   âŠÂ   until it is vile.   He feels that tension in his jaw,   the upstream of frustration and desire made manifest into biting and pulling.   For a moment he even considers the possibility he may be enjoying this.   Might know that he is, somewhere. The indulgence of doing, beyond his instinct or upon it or whatever the fuck else.   But then he does it again, Dae-ho.   He speaks.   Belittles him.   Is that all he can say? Always? Did his mother not teach him to hold his tongue?
Then again, Min-su wouldn't know what a mother would say. His hardly counted. She could not have killed him, but,   oh well.   She should have. Because he will never live long enough to   'have it in him.'   It, here, being grasping at Dae-ho's face and yelling.   SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. SHUT UP.
Instead, he huffs into his neck. He decides that perhaps if he remains silent, Dae-ho will follow suit. That he would hear his own words and find shame somewhere deep within him.   He still refuses his mouth, though his knee shifts against the bed, and his hand swims to find rope and entrap wrist along with it,   as though in need of a reminder.   He presses the other to Dae-ho's stomach.   Settle down, or something,   he tries with a gentle push. The bucking had been felt. Liked, to some capacity,   but he wonders if it would scathe Dae-ho to comment on it without words.
Angling his head like wounded stray,   he perceives his work.   Markings not to be permanent. Things that would not last.   He doesn't like that there is a temporary air to it all,   before he returns to simple mouse in trap. Perhaps ... if he were to go lower, away from his face,   Min-su may be able to let the horror go long enough to leave a stain.   Wine is left un-minded until it meets white shirt. White shirt, then, may be Dae-ho's chest.   The wall he so desperately wishes to break.
Min-su finds his eyes, on instinct.   His own are still as pathetic as ever. Incapable of what he is about to do, though he begs himself to run away. He wonders if he can confuse Dae-ho with it â that quality he hates in himself. Below that wonder lies the intrinsic question of why it matters, of course, but that is for his reddened eyes to act upon.
The rope is left,   replaced by the side of Dae-ho's cheek.   If he could crush it, he might have tried. Just to keep him quiet. Instead, it is cupped, held like some fragile object, if only by virtue of Min-su's inability to destroy. Then further down it slides, with all of him,   holding side of rib with the very same gesture.   Pure contrast, almost, to the digging of teeth into skin and muscle.   Didn't think you had it in you. Didn't think you had it in you. Didn't think you had it in you.   Fuck you, Dae-ho,   he says with his teeth ...   and then immediately holds himself accountable.   Inward, though outward he moves with the same momentum to press a kiss, benign, where he had bitten.
what?ăhe cannot imagine min-su taking it upon himself to be coy,ănow,ărestricting any of the newfound persuasion impelling him forwardăâăbut the trek onwards seems to have ceased,ăand greedy,ăfoul beast he is finds the audacity to be disappointed in this fact.ăhand at his stomach as its own cessationă//ăunbearable,ătruly unbearable,ăthere is a need for friction and he demands it now,ădemands to grind himself and seek whatever contact he may.ăDAE-HO IS PITIFUL,ăNOW,ăshooting out one final buck up of his hips before weakly receding into himself.ăwhy is the shoe on the other foot?ăwhy has he allowed this to play out the way it has?
[ăwouldnât it be so easy?ăfor the roles have to entirely reversed?ăto grab at min-suâs pathetic little wrists and pin him down,ălevy all that strength and bulk he has over him in his favor,ăwrestle down weak little thing and clamp him betwixt his jaws until he may meaningfully reconcile with his feelings.ăcrushing min-su would probably not make him feel better.ăgrossly,ăperversely,ădae-ho likes this better.ăand isnât that so strange?ă]
maybe he is the gay one.ămaybe it doesnât matter,ănow.
there is the graze of teeth,ăthen,ăagainst his chest,ăand all of it is sensation that dae-ho never before laid claim to desiring.ăhe wants more,ăand isnât that absurd?ăthat he has come to resent the cloth stretched by the breadth of his frame because it,ăin any way,ăinhibits the contact between them?ăhow absurd.ăunfathomable.ămin-su touches him so gently,ăand he cannot comprehend the contact.ăwhy?ăwhy does it feel good?ăitâs not supposed to,ăis it?ămind fires in every direction,ăcraving both the clamp of his teeth onto him and whatever softness manifests at his side.ă
ââănow iâm wishing you took my shirt off before all this.ăââăyou,ăspecifically,ătook it off;ăa responsibility he evades by sheer force of allowing min-su to do onto him.ăfor min-su to call the shots,ăand dae-ho to sit as the derisive spectator.ăthe act wouldnât be too difficult now,ăhe thinks,ămerely a bit awkward of a maneuver to force fabric over his shoulders.ăfuck,ămaybe he really does want it.ămaybe the kiss against the bite mark,ăthen,ăonly serves to spin his confusion around worse.ătentatively,ăgross and greedy,ăââăyou wanna do that again?ăââăplease do it again,ăhe wants to say,ăbut he has relegated himself to the role of passive observer.ăââăcâmon,ămin-su,ăyou can do it.ăââ
DAE-HO TALKS TOO MUCH.   It makes his blood boil in such a way. You really don't have to be scared, he says. Like he knows min-su.   False sense of security at best, scrutiny at worst.   It tremors him further, though not quite with that fear addressed. He still does - he fears Dae-ho and his arms and his grin - but perhaps more powerfully,   he is riddled with spite.   Even now, here, the shackled monster teases his captor. It doesn't matter what he ties him up with or how he does it, Dae-ho will always be compelled to flounce his superiority.
Min-su wishes he was daring.   He really does. Show me what you want to do.   "I want to ..."   Hurt you just a little bit. Just for a moment. I promise I'll comfort you after. I'll make it up to you. I will.   " ...  "     It won't come out.   Why would it?   Dae-ho or not,   it is impossible to let such sentiment free itself and slither 'round definition of muscles and chest.
And if words are difficult, imagine action.   Imagine what it takes to move.   To convert thought into tangible   THING DONE,   Min-su would need to become some other thing.   To have energy he cannot dream of.
He, again, stares. Dae-ho is, he has decided long ago, a moron. He will see the tears pushing into the beds of his eyes and think that is fear again - nerves. But it is not. It is frustration, plain and simple. His desire unmet, yet, and Dae-ho's words pushing him against cement and forcing him to remain until it dries.   He wants to show him, out of spite, what he wishes to do.   His suppression of himself, herein, is build-up of ... not-quite courage.   Synthetic daring.   Horse tranquilizer posing as other better thing.
Min-su decides to use it just a little.   He leans forward, matches gaze to gaze, then draws it down to lips. Even plasters his little fingers, calloused things in spite of themselves against the start of dreadful jawline.   He doesn't know, in full, whether Dae-ho wants a kiss.   But he can guess. In his own way, he is able to put things together. He is able to look at the encounter still pounding against the back of his head and gather that.  strong man wishes, always, to show his strength through something.
That is why he doesn't allow it.     When he is close, too close, when his tears have fallen from his own cheeks to Dae-ho's,   he slowly steers his head away to the neck.   Hides himself from predator's gaze, curling though his hand remains intact at the base of Dae-ho's jaw ... and thinks. He thinks about how much he despises what he is told. How much he despises mention of Marines and Marines and Marines and Marines and       OH, there, he is upset enough to bite him.       First gently, too gently, like some ghost of breath on skin, and then with spite. He is going to die. This is a step too far, and   he will die.   He wants to keep crying. His hand has left Dae-ho's jaw to pull at his hair instead.   He is going to fucking die.
AH.ăperhaps the most unsettling thing of all is that min-su does,ăeventually,ămove in to act,ăto permit what was at first mere jeering taunt from dae-ho into executed behavior.ădid he want min-su to act?ăor did he speak of sheer disbelief that someone so small and pitiful could ever carry out his whims,ădesires,ăand wants?ăand,ămoreover,ăwho permitted someone so pathetic to have such things?ă[ăBUT HEâS SO CURIOUS.ăSO,ăSO CURIOUS.ăwhat if it turned out that min-su was the normal one,ăhere,ăand the extent of his desires were leaving dae-ho on his own?ăthat the most nobleăâăand simultaneously eroticăâăthing he could fathom was a complete and utter lack of giving into temptation?ănot min-su,ănever min-su.ă]
tiny,ăpitiful creature leans in.ătouches him,ăeven,ăand his heart nearly stops beating from within his chest.ăIT SHOULDNâT BE LIKE THIS,ăHE THINKS.ăfor a man to be gripping his jaw is only valid in service of violence,ălike the stabilization that precedes the crack of knuckles against his lineaments.ănotably,ămin-su does not punch him,ăand that is what makes this all worse.ăhe could not punch min-su,ăthen,ăeven if he wanted to,ăeven if aggression would somehow resolve the uncertainty threaded through him.ămin-su has restrained him,ăcaged the snarling beast that still pushes muzzle against the bars of its enclosure.ăso he is harmless,ăand the shoe is on the other foot.ă
will min-su kiss him?ăhe has never envisioned a manâs lips on his own,ănever permitted the thought to cross his mind beyond that of mindless impulsivity.ă[ăor anyoneâs,ăreally.ăany illusory fantasy with a girl crush long forgotten is enshrouded with shame,ăa guilt he cannot place for subjecting her to such longing.ăhe should not covet the softer side of physicality;ăwhat is a man that craves a cuddle?ăhardly a man at all.ăhe is a real man,ăa tough man.ăthe breadth of his chest tells him as much.ătough as sin.ă]ăhe isnât sure if he wants min-su to kiss him.ăor,ăperhaps more importantly,ăhe isnât sure what he wants at all.ămaybe he wants min-su off of him completely,ăwants him to free his wrists from their poorly-tied restraints.ăprobably not that.ăhe wants this to continue on;ăcoaxed stiffness insists upon it.
then there is teeth.ăit is sudden,ăand then it is not:ăscrape against his fluttering pulse-point all but shuts away dae-hoâs capacity to think,ăleaves him slack-jawed beyond that of the wanton moan clambering from his throat.ăhow gross and uncharacteristic.ăwhere,ăoh where,ăhas this behavior come from?ăand why does it feel so natural?ăfingers have woven into the strands of hair that fall loosely by his neck,ăand he justăâăheăâăhe canâtăâăthe bucking upward of his hips is involuntary,ăa desperate seeking of friction wherever he may greedily lap it up.ă
and if he is greedy,ăallow him to be greedy to the fullest extent:ălips are pulled taut in self-satisfied smirk,ămouth parted just enough for any lecherous panting to pass through unbidden.ăââădidnât think you actually had it in you.ăââăa dare,ăperhaps,ăor a deeper twist of the knife.ădae-ho isnât certain of the distinction,ăonly that he knows he wants more.ă
HE FUMBLES   with the rope. He is himself in every moment, in that he fails to be so.   Dae-ho's words are a troublesome thing.   Or irksome, perhaps, is the right word, for they mean about as much as Min-su's apologies and fumbling pleas for aid.   Nothing, that is, to him.   He doesn't have to be nervous, but he is. Trembling and slipping rope around the wrong wrist   (   his own, his own, oh god, it's his own, turn it over, slip it out again, try again, fail again, why does one side not look normal and the other feel unreal? This was a bad idea. This was a horrible decision. This shall not pass, the way everything else does not.   )Â
Ah, but it's something to him.   To see the dumb jerk, tiger baring its teeth and terrifying the little lamb, caged.   There is almost a push in it.   Completion is imminent not for its process but for its reward. He does not know what the hell he is doing, or where the fuck he's going to take this when he has Dae-ho restricted, but a spark in him gives momentum to the fumbling  â   intrigue. He will call it that. He will lie and call it that.
Min-su manages, eventually. The knot is something a marine may scoff at, the way it is unruly and unsure of its state. One wrist is tighter than the other. Min-su would have untied it and redone the work had he not drowned in his embarrassment prior. The man is red in such a way that blood must have been poured, absorbed somehow by his ears and nose,   leaving some effect on sweaty cheeks and watering eyes. He does not look like a man who has another tied. He does not even act like it, yet.   The way his palm travels down Dae-ho's forearm   with a gentleness that contradicts the strength of his mindless knot. He almost wants to ask if this is okay. Almost.
Instead, he draws back, slowly brings himself to look at what he had done and decide he is still not safe, but may now be able to flee faster than the predator may pounce. He contemplates, for a moment, staring into Dae-ho's eyes with the undefined quality of his perpetual sorrow, simply leaving him there and walking out. Locking the door.   Watching through the keyhole as he unties himself and tries to leave, get it open.
But then he is sorry. He is sorry for the thought,   because Dae-ho is a tiger only by likeness. Nothing has hurt Min-su more than humans, of which Dae-ho is one, and towards which he cannot help that slither of empathy. He is always down, down, down below. With that view he does not see clearly, but he sees a lot. Enough. All that falls beneath leveled eyes.
" ... you look ... better now."   He expresses a thought ... and immediately regrets it. His shoulders curl, though the rest of him attempts to rectify it by reaching out. The very same fingertips are able to do something so simple, yet so wanted. All with the tremor that makes them Min-su's,   they touch Dae-ho's arm,   spiral around the definition of his bicep, and slither gently to the tip of his hair. Yanking it would almost be cathartic, though he withholds. He returns to his act of viewing, as if studying Dae-ho under a microscope recently installed into the irises which pin themselves so wistfully to the locks now fiddled with so unsurely.      I want. I want. i want. I want.        "What do you want me to do?"   Fucking shit.   And murmured so miserably, too.
@notmarine
everything min-su does is so fucking awkward.ădae-ho isnât sure if the sight makes him pity the other even more than he already doesă[ăand,ăreally,ăhow does one top that?ăhow does one feast their eyes upon min-su and not think to themselves that he is little beyond the worldâs most pathetic creature?ă]ăor if it makes him want to call the whole thing off entirely.ăsat back,ăwatching,ăobserving,ăallowing min-suâs actions to run their course before he forces a meaningful interjection of chest-driven babbling.ăspeaking something into existence to frustrate min-su further,ăperhaps;ăa well-meaning ally-ship that is never taken well by any beyond he who is broad in the chest and shoulders.ăFOR ONCE,ădae-ho has the foresight to hold his tongue.ăcall it a curiosity,ăperhaps.ăsomething impelling him onward in a tryst with fellow manăâăcan min-su really be called as much?ăhe is small and soft-eyed and pitiful,ăand he feels the same protective twinge in his gut in regarding opposite man as he would for any helpless womanăâăthat otherwise does not call his identity into question.
[ăwho is worse,ăherein?ăthe one allowing things done onto him,ăor he who does in the first place?ădae-ho is little beyond that of a passive observer,ăallowing min-su to act how he wishes,ăpermitting whatever behavior is extended towards him in this exchange.ăby comparison,ăit is min-suâs fault,ăis it not?ăwith his pitiful little fingers that struggle now to bundle rope around dae-hoâs wrists.ăwhat is wrong with min-su that makes him want to do this?ăwhat is wrong with dae-ho that makes him want to allow it?ă]
the ropework isâŠăshabby,ăthough he lacks a frame of reference to measure it against otherwise.ăand min-suăâăthis tiny,ăpitiful little thingăâălooks so damn distressed;ădae-ho does not have the heart to correct him.ăWHAT DOES IT MATTER,ăANYWAYS?ăno matter how clumsily the act has been carried out,ămin-su has succeeded in tying his wrists.ăhe could stand to have a little more confidence in his abilities,ăor at least control himself enough such that dae-ho does not feel guilty in being straddled by tiny,ăpitiful fellow in the first place.ăbut then there is a caress of hand against soft plane of skin,ăand the scrutiny escapes him.ăfor a moment,ăit is all human contact,ăsomething soft and incorruptible enough to beckon the soft widening of his eyes.ămin-su touches him more,ăthen,ăand his breath jumps from where it is slowly drawn inward through his nose.ăwhat is otherwise a calm gesture,ăsat gently with no expectation of how entanglement betwixt them would play out.ămaybe he wants the touch at his bicep,ăwants min-su to feel where his muscles are developed most,ăand maybe this desire does not make him feel guilty.ăcould it be?ăin its place,ăis this radiating enthusiasm?ăan amusement,ăperhaps,ădelineated by a show of bared teeth?
ââăyou think so?ăââăhe gives a soft chuckle,ănear inaudible with how head droops down,ăhair falling over his face.ăwhat an odd guy,ăthat min-su is.ăwanting to tie men up and thinking that their projected image,ălike this,ăis paramount.ăare you gay,ămin-su?ăitâs delusional,ămaybe.ădae-ho almost wants to kiss him.ăA MERE WHIM OF THE PREDATOR INSTINCT,ăPERHAPS,ăwanting to draw weak prey in to where he may snap jaws open and break his neck in one fell swoop.ăââăhuh?ăthink the cards are,ăuh,ăin your handsăhere.ăâŠyou can do whatever you want.ăââăhow gross and uncharacteristic.ăwhere is the dae-ho that likes to take charge,ăand what has min-su done with him?ăhow can min-su be to blame for this?ăââăyou really donât have to be scared.ădo you need to take a minute?ătake a breath?ăyou donât have to get so worked up.ăââă
AND ISNâT HE SO KIND?ăisnât this just the dae-ho to adore?ăhe,ăwho must clearly know better than min-suăâăhe who makes demands of man who is flush against him with legs astride,ăwho touches his hair so softly that it is almost as though he does not exist to begin withăâăwho stares to him with such revolting pity.ăare you gay,ămin-su?ăhe almost wants to ask it,ăwants the words to crawl out of his mouth and over his lips before he may dignify the exchange with an attempt at controlling himself.
ââăcome on,ămin-su.ăshow me what you want to do.ăââ
Starting a collection
not even remotely usfw but..... Body #thinking...
it's sunday!
đ
daeho arms
daeho chest
happy trail
@notmarine :   [ BONDAGE ] ; the sender ties the receiver up. + reverse WHOAAAA
THERE'S SOMETHING TO BE SAID    about having Dae-ho here. Something far from sweet, in how it finds him. This contraption of relief he is no longer trapped with him and    the revelation he would very much enjoy some reversal.   How many times has it been, now, that the other has managed to snake his way around his neck and terrify him with just the sound of his voice.   Even now, here, with doors easily un-lockable and blinds drawn down,   he finds that feeling creeping up on him. The what if. What if Dae-ho still does something with those arms, something wanted and foul?   Would Min-su be able to fight him?
No, no he would not.   And from this comes a desire rooted elsewhere,   though it suffices to settle his nerves.
It's not often that he is able to move at all, the pebble that he is, so perhaps it may come as a revelation that he is able to. Rope in hand,   he climbs atop the bed with the tact of a child learning how to horse-ride,  a sloppiness to the rise of his thighs and the rustling of fabric over arms as it seethes against bedsheets. He finds Dae-ho eventually,   his lap before his face.   He doesn't realize he has fully straddled him until he reaches for his hand and notes the proximity of his chest to his forward motion. He could swear his hair is pushed ever-so-gently to his forehead, just from how close he is to that ... wall.
He stills, looks below, then up at him â   always up, always up, why always up? he doesn't like that.   " ... You â  could you... Can I â "   He reaches out, slightly, hand extended to where Dae-ho's wrist lies,   but not quite taking it.   He asks for it with the want in his eyes and the outstretch of his fingertips.   " ... please?"
the way he regards min-su is something earnest,ăentirely unfettered by expectation;ăhe who is dragged into every pitfall with eyes wide open.ă[ăDAE-HO HAS NOT WITNESSED EVERYTHING.ăthis much is true.ă]ăbut he cannot help his curiosity in what exactly would happen when the control is,ăfor once,ădropped gently into min-suâs palms.ăan aberration of what reality demands versus what he may do to personally impact the course of things.ăin this way,ăit is dae-ho who observes,ăallows things to play out before him without much meaningful intervention.ăit is dae-ho who cranes his neck considerately as min-su finds contact at his lap,ăand it is dae-ho who must look down,ăin turn,ăat pitiful gaze shot up at him.
âŠăhe does not wish to harm pathetic vermin atop him.ăthat would be obscene.ăthe world punches down enough,ăand min-su is no threat to him.ă[ăsomeone who can bolster his own sense of masculinity through,ăperhaps.ălooking at one beneath him who does not and cannot measure up.ăwhere he is musculature and tendon and sinew alike that can tenderly cradle those who are insufficient by comparison.ă]ăand so,ămaybe it is blessed,ăfortunate thing that min-su clutches bundle of rope in hand.ăa leveling of the playing field so long as the bulk of his thew has been subdued.
ââăyeah?ăââăwrists are extended outwards before he may intervene with the automationăâăhe wouldnât, even still,ăbut his body speaks before his mind does.ăthen,ăfrom pure curiosity,ăââăyou ever done this before?ăââăand,ăas somewhat of an afterthought,ăââăyou donât have to be nervous at all.ăitâs alright.ăââăbecause dae-ho knows better.ăbecause dae-ho insists of its veracity.ătherefore it must be trueă//ăthe tiger,ăbearing fearsome maw lined with too-sharp teeth,ăonly licks its lips patiently,ăwaiting for fledgling hunter to fully tie down its game.ăMIN-SU,ăHEREIN,ăIS NOT INSTRUMENT NOR UTENSIL.ădae-ho knows how that is,ăhow to stomach the feeling.ăhe volunteers the control with a fond curl of his lips and an offering of his strength restricted.
me coming on solely to write daesu bondage
daehocore
who up getting chest hickeys
"Well I don't want to rush anything. It's not my style, believe it or not." A lie, spoken so sweetly. He likes things fast and rough and unforgiving. But if he thinks it'd elicit a reaction out of Dae-Ho, then he will say whatever. Granted, the material obviously didn't taste the best, so he took it in stride and proceeded. Besides, it's a good motivator. He doesn't want being down here cut short.
But nonetheless, he would slowly slide Dae-Ho's pants and underwear down his thighs in one, painfully slow pull. He's doing it purposefully, wanting to draw out the experience. This is his turf, and so it's not far off that Nam-Gyu expects to do things on his own terms. He would stop pulling the clothing down until the articles were bunched at Dae-Ho knees, and only then would Nam-Gyu slide his hands up the man's thighs. He bit his bottom lip almost sensually, wrapping his fingers around that shaft, giving him a gentle squeeze. He dragged his grip upwards, rubbing that exposed tip with his thumb.
"You're big," It was a compliment, "Biggest I've ever seen." That was not. Nam-Gyu had seen his fair share before, as much as he would say he hasn't - he just wanted to try and make Dae-Ho feel good about himself. He doubted his efforts had any weight - if anything he feels like he's trying too hard with him. His own words made him internally cringe, but nonetheless he slid his hand downward. He squeezed the base of Dae-Ho's cock tightly before leaning in and peppering the tip with kisses and gentle licks. Every other time he sucked it briefly, all while massaging the underside of Dae-Ho's shaft with his thumb. Yet he always kept his gaze upwards, practically staring up at Dae-Ho. He did blink, but it certainly felt like he wasn't.
like he gives a shit.ăit matters little to him what the other prefers in the grand scheme of things.ăselfishly,ăhe dances in perpetual pursuit of his own pleasureăâăcouldn't it be?ăthis,ăas the sole motivating factor in deigning to engage in such ribaldry with some one of nam-gyu's ilk to begin with?ăhe hates him.ădae-ho knows this to be true,ăincontestable veracity through every sinew and tendon in his body.ăbut he likes the feeling of his more,ăsuperseding any smoked-out abhorrence.ăhe permits himself precious little where guilty pleasures are concerned.ăkeeping the bottle beyond armâs length.ăsteering clear of anything denying him a sound mind.ăeven going so far as to turn up his nose at something as banal as a cigarette.ădoesnât he deserve this pitiful gratification?
blunt nails graze against nam-gyuâs scalp,ăstifled hum sucked through his teeth.ăhe doesnât care much for the flattery.ănot at all,ăreally.ămore significantly,ăhe likes nam-gyu a lot better when the latter isnât speaking,ăputting his mouth and tongue to much more productive uses.ăââăi know i am.ăââăhis eyes squeeze shut,ăbreathing a sharp breath in;ăthe fistful of hair at his command tightens its hold.ăhis tongue feels nice.ăheâll give him that,ăgroans progressively freed from where they were trapped in his throat.ăenjoying himself freely is for his own sake far more than it is any indication that the other is doing a good jobăâănot walking on egg-shells for once in his fucking life.
ââăyouâre so much more likeable when you arenât fucking talking.ăââăhis quip is brief,ăsomething disinterested and said in passing.ădae-hoâs eyes open,ăand he looks down onto nam-gyu contemptuously.ăit heightens the heat pooling in his gut,ăslow buildup of burning sensation.ăfree hand extends outward,ăsoftly cradling the line of otherâs jaw before his fingers dig into his cheeks.ă
in the midst of the tender air, of the intimate moment; he still makes a joke. it's one of the many reasons you've fallen for him, evidenced by the way your lips curl upwards and a small, surprised laugh falls from mouth. it made the tension, that of which was pulled so taut it was close to snapping, lessen enough for you to relax against the sheets, grip loosened as you nod eagerly to his next words. it still shocks you that he was so affected by you, to the point that he'd be straining against fabric.. you found yourself enjoying it a bit more than you feel you should, elated to know that he'd find you that attractive.
can i? it's cute, so cute that he asks.. you find yourself thinking, 'i'm so lucky to have this' and then 'i'm even luckier that it's with him'. tucked away next to your lungs and ribs is a flurry of butterflies, you feel their wings flapping as they brush against your insides, the manifestation of your nerves. instead of feeling unsettled by them, you have instead embraced them and made yourself a field for them to thrive in - enveloped by your love, soothed by his love. you swallow your fears and your doubts, the lingering worries of what others would think fade away as you let yourself focus on him and his ministrations.
you feel it. it rubs against your stomach in a way that feels sinful.. you gasp as a plethora of noises leaves your parted mouth, enticed by the kisses across skin. but it's not enough.. for both of you, it's not nearly enough. there's a wetness soaking your panties and thighs, an eagerness for him. " àžàž”àč.. " all needy, a whiny tone to voice as your hands drift 'til they press against his chest, doe eyes melting with desire and something else you can't identify. " p-please, i need you.. so bad.. i-it's driving me crazy, please. " breathless, utterly swept away from the accumulated lust. you're falling apart so easily.
heat continuously forms at his cheeks.ă[ăand everywhere,ăbut that part isnât as important.ăitâs hard not to spare cognizance towards the heat that pools in his stomach.ăhe learns patience,ăhere.ă]ăhe wants,ăso badly,ăto grind himself down into her;ăthe way his cock strains against constraining fabric of his pants is borderline agonizing.ăthereâs no use in rushing.ăas far as dae-ho sees it,ăthey have all the time in the world.ăthis moment was sweet and special and safe,ăsliced away from the world in its own private sanctuary.ăjust the two of them.ăsamiâs so sweetăâăit makes it difficult to wait,ăbut he knows itâll be well worth it.
ââăhuh?ăââăhe heard her loud and clear,ăwhiny and sweet,ăbut gentle fascination rests upon him to nudge at her.ăââăcan you hang on for me,ăgorgeous?ăââăitâs endearing,ăhow worked up she is already:ăit plays up his own inflamed desire,ăinsatiable sensation stoked by her mewling.ăteasing is fun,ăbut he doesnât want to leave her too high and dryă//ăbare palm moves in,ătenderly cradles her jaw such that dae-ho may plant wet kiss against her lipsă//ăopposite hand snakes down her frame,ăan initial featherlight touch at her panties that quickly shifts into something far more generous.ăfirm dragging back-and-forth of his fingers.ătantalizing but tentative still,ăonly daring to prod beneath her panties after heâs satisfied himself with the state of her arousal.
hold of his fingers gently angles her head up,ăjust enough such that he may pull back and look into her eyes.ăcuriously,ăinvitingly,ăonly for a moment before dae-ho presses his lips back into hers.ă[ăa bit more force,ăthis time.ăhe doesnât want to get ahead of himself,ăriled up like a mutt too much energy.ăsheâs beautiful.ăitâs hard not to.ă]ăthen,ăonly then,ădoes he permit the pad of his middle finger to circle âround her clit.ă@hearteris
sex, gender, and love.
bold what does apply to your muse.ăitalicize what sometimes applies.ăstrikethrough what never applies.
i tagged them all now. . . send me prompts đŻ