iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

+ his other hand pops the buttons on his slacks. "don't worry, jisungie." his voice is airy. his fingers tighten in jisung's hair, tugging his head closer, guiding him. helping him, like always. "hyung will talk you through it, hm? step by step."

030

+ "tell me what to do, hyung. 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦." determination shines through the tears in jisung's eyes. minho smiles fondly. he strokes his hand over jsng's cheek, slides it up into his hair. it settles there, gripping a fistful - gently. 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘦. +

+ "but i.. i don't know what to do." jisung's bottom lip trembles, so afraid of disappointing minho further. "what did- what do i do?" jisung inhales, trying to control his stuttering, to summon some confidence. he wants to show minho he means it. he needs to be 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 for him. +

+ jisung pleads. "it was my fault, i should fix it. but-" "but what, sung?" minho hums, encouraging jisung to continue. he's so forgiving, jisung did something wrong and he's still being so tender, still trusting him to make it right. he deserves to have that kindness returned to him, tenfold. +

140

+ minho's other hand, the one still holding jisung's jaw, loosens its grip. his thumb glides over jisung's pouted lips. "shhh shh, it's okay jisungie, you can fix it. do you want to? make it right?" jisung nods eagerly, eyes wide as saucers. "y-yes, please hyung! i should, shouldn't i?" +

+ "that?" his lids are heavy when he locks eyes with jisung. threatening. calculating. "that's your fault." "min- what? is something wrong? did i do something wrong? i'm so sorry minho! i-" jisung is panicking but he's not even sure what for, he has no idea what's going on. +

+ "what was that, sung-ah?" he asks, tilting his head. "i-" jisung's voice is raspy. he clears his throat. "-i said what's that?" he nods his head, gesturing at minho's crotch. minho follows his gaze, smirking like he knows something jisung doesn't - and he probably does. minho is so clever. +

+ he tries to speak, but minho's fingers leave no room for it. his throat convulses and he gags harder than the first time, spluttering and heaving, wheezing for breath. minho finally withdraws his fingers and pats jisung's squishy, tear stained cheek. his touch is slick with spit, and cold. +

+ "hmm, seems fine to me jisungie," he mumbles, eyes fixed on jisung's slack mouth - but he doesn't stop. jisung's gaze snaps down, feeling nervous all of sudden, and that's when he catches sight of a rather prominent bulge in minho's slacks. +

+ jisung's tummy feels funny, it's swirling and tensing - he thinks maybe he ate too much candy after all. but he waits patiently, blinking up at minho and letting his tears slip freely, as minho's insistent fingers probe his pliant mouth. 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺. 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰 𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺. jisung can't help but notice. +

+ he doesn't expect minho to bring his other hand to his mouth and slide two fingers past his lips, pressing down on his tongue. jisung gags a little and his eyes start to water, but minho coos and shushes him, reassures him that he's being so good. gosh, minho is so understanding and supportive! +

+ now that jisung thinks about it though, all this candy is surely bad for his teeth? he says as much to minho, who promptly grips jisung's jaw between his fingers and squeezes at the hinges, prying it open to peer inside. jisung just lets him. minho is so caring and helpful. +

+ he's accidentally sucked minho's fingers more than once today, but minho doesn't seem to mind. he's so kind and patient, putting up with jisung's clumsiness. he still pushes another sweet past jisung's lips, rewarding him for every correct answer. +

#minsung #nsfwstay #somnhofic 🐰🐿️corruption kink sweet virgin christian jisung who's never touched a cock before, not even his own. the neighbor's son minho agreed to tutor him, but he keeps calling jisung "distracting" - whatever that means. he keeps hand feeding jisung candy. +

1103

(@minslick.bsky.social is writing a fic inspired by this idea, please look forward to it 🩷)

030

+ minho thumbs jisung's hole, abusing it until it's puffy and sore, and swirls his tongue around his cute little toes, sucking them into his mouth. jisung is so pretty when he squirms, whines, begs. 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 so confused, so overwhelmed. 𝘴𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦. he needs minho's tongue where it hurts.

150

#minsung #nsfwstay #somnhofic #minslickfic 🐰🐿️ collab with @minslick.bsky.social jisung is commando under his soaked little shorts. minho can see 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 as he kneads and pulls his cheeks apart, spanks him until he's sobbing (the wet material makes it hurt more). jisung's toes curl. 𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨. +

182

+ or passed, depending on how you look at it. played right into minho's demonic little hands. minho speaks before jisung can drag his eyes away from the sinfully high seam of his shorts, his voice smoother than silk, yet commanding. expectant. final. "hyung's turn to watch, now."

090

+ when minho shifts his hips down the couch, spreads wider, and jisung's treacherous eyes drop back down to his thighs - where those stupid fucking shorts are riding up again. he swallows his words before they make it to his mouth. fuck. he's onto him. that was a test and jisung failed. +

+ cock still painfully hard, still marinating in layers of precum, still trapped beneath two layers of clothing and one soiled pillow, and now the weight of minho's gaze. jisung scrambles for a lifeline, a distraction. opens his mouth about to redirect minho's focus- +

+ "hyung's finished reading, jisung-ah." minho sounds fond, gentle in a way he only ever is with jisung, but there's something woven in the fabric of his tone that jisung can't pinpoint. that, paired with his sudden undivided attention, makes jisung all too aware of his own state. +

+ jisung tries to respond with something witty and deflective, but ends up just opening and closing his mouth like a fish. minho throws him for an even bigger loop when he sets his book down on the coffee table, gaze unwavering, and folds his arms across his chest. "hyung, what are y-" +

"not worked up?" minho interjects, head tilting in a way that always makes jisung feel small. voice lilting but still buttery smooth, dripping condescension. his eyes bore into jisung like he knows too much, like he sees through everything. "or.. not worked up over silk moths?" +

+ "silk moths," he muses, pausing for a beat. "that's why you're so worked up?" he finally looks up, expression unreadable, and jisung feels like a deer caught in headlights. he does the only thing he can think to do. lie. "ha—what are you talking about? hyung, i'm not-" +

+ his body feels like a livewire, teetering on the cusp of being caught. he's dancing with death—death by self-incrimination. jisung's cock twitches at that, and even he knows that's pathetic. minho speaks again, and his words turn jisung's world on it's head. +

+ his body halts in its tracks but his brain kicks into overdrive, blindsided by a question he 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸𝘴 the answer to, but cannot summon for the life of him. what is- 𝘸𝘢𝘴 he watching? something about moths.. "—uh, silk moths, documentary," he blurts out, rushed and unsteady. +

+ he doesn't expect minho to speak again, to give a delayed response to a question that jisung himself already can't recall the details of. "it's called The Psychology of Shame," minho mumbles, eyes still glued to the page. "what're you watching?" jisung stalls.+

+ jisung finds his rhythm, switches to auto-pilot, and in a moment of true madness he peels his watchful eyes from minho's face, letting them trail down his frame until they come to rest on plush, naked flesh. jisung bites the inside of his cheek, feels his brain fill with cotton. +

+ muscles clenching and unclenching slowly, carefully. a wet patch soaking through both of his layers and undoubtedly dampening the pillow now, too. the smallest shift ignites him, sets his nerves on fire—the knowledge of minho's bare thighs mere feet away stokes the flames. +

+ "what're you reading?" it comes out strained, a little breathy, but minho still hasn't looked up. he might be safe. minho gives a noncommittal hum in response and turns a page. he's barely even listening. and jisung must be an idiot because he's already at it again. +

+ he tries to mask it by squirming intentionally, nuzzling deeper into his corner, but the pillow is still btwn his legs and he only succeeds in granting himself yet more stimulation. a short, broken whimper dies at the back of his throat. he clears it. tries to speak casually.+

+ national geographic. something about male silk moths detecting the female's pheromones from up to 10km away. jisung bites back a gasp when the sensitive tip of his cock presses against the pillow just right, but his hips jerk a little harder than he intended. he panics. +

+ just enough to grind the underside of his clothed cock against the now dense polyester. then relaxes, feels it drag back the other way. again, and again. back and forth, imperceptible movements, the soft graze of fabric against fabric drowned out by the sound of the tv. +

+ a safety net. all it takes for his need to begin to bleed through the holes in his logic. he presses his knees together around the pillow until they touch, tightening the pressure against his length, tensing his glutes just so. +

+ jisung closes his mouth, suddenly aware he'd been agape at the thought. his mouth feels dry, throat swallowing around a lump, but there's saliva pooling at the corners of his lips. he flicks his gaze up to minho's face and sees that he's engrossed in his book, unaware. that's all it takes. +

+ more pressure, more movement, more relief. needs minho to pull him into his lap, to press one thigh up into his length and keep it there, unyielding in the face of jisung's frantic thrusts. to show jisung what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. +

+ the way his hamstrings tighten and flex when he curls his toes against the carpet like a cat making biscuits. like how jisung wants to dig his claws into minho's thighs and knead. 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘵. he's fully hard now. the light press of the pillow isn't enough, he needs more. +

+ nothing but the way minho's thighs act and react. the way they jiggle lightly when he walks. the way the meat of them seems to expand with the pull of gravity when he sits. widening, spilling out of his shorts impossibly more. taking up space—on the couch and in jisung's head. +

+ smooth, firm, succulent. jisung doesn't know when he started staring again, or if he ever even stopped. he meant to, but minho strolled in smelling like shampoo and looking like sex on legs—𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬, 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘢𝘺 '𝘴𝘦𝘹' 𝘢𝘯𝘥 '𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴' 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦—and jisung remembers nothing since. +

+ tries to focus on the documentary he has playing on the tv, but minho won't stop shuffling around on his corner of the couch. crossing one leg over the over, then swapping them, then sinking down further into the couch and spreading his legs—god, the shorts are riding up. +

#minsung #nsfwstay #somnhofic 🐰🐿️pillow humping minho lounging around post-shower in the thinnest shorts he owns, muscles bulging beneath his soft skin + jisung tucking a pillow btwn his legs to conceal the tent in his sweatpants, apply some pressure, grant him relief. he tries to will it away. +

1177

+ "and you're hard," he fires back. jisung drags him to the restroom without another word, yanks him into the nearest free stall and rides him right there, messy, loud and desperate 💕

020

+ minho ofc knows this since the record was held by him for the past 6 months, but he offers to buy jisung a drink anyway. it's a gesture. jisung is a brat and only orders expensive cocktails. he plays hard to get, calls minho "easy". minho thumbs jisungs bottom lip, bitten red. +

+ and he's addicted to the feeling of all these eyes on him. he's hard as a rock when he climbs down, tenting his skirt, dizzy and glistening with sweat. minho feels completely feral. wants to take him there and then with everyone watching. the record holder gets free whiskey. +

+ rolling his hips, grinding and writhing and throwing his head back. leaning all the way forward to wrap his arms around the bull and press his face into it, ass and thighs jiggling with every wild buck of the machine. his eyes roll back and he bites his lip bcs the pressure feels so good +

+ want y'all to know that in my head jisung is a huge slut in this. he's wearing a mini-skirt that rides up with all the movement, everyone in the bar sees his cute little ass and he couldn't care less - if anything he loves the attention. he's way more sexual than he needs to be on the bull. +