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writingwithcolor · 10 months

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Naming International POC Characters: Do Your Research.

This post is part of a double feature for the same ask. First check out Mod Colette's answer to OP's original question at: A Careful Balance: Portraying a Black Character's Relationship with their Hair. Below are notes on character naming from Mod Rina.

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@writingraccoon said:

My character is black in a dungeons and dragons-like fantasy world. His name is Kazuki Haile (pronounced hay-lee), and his mother is this world's equivalent of Japanese, which is where his first name is from, while his father is this world's equivalent of Ethiopian, which is where his last name is from. He looks much more like his father, and has hair type 4a. [...]

Hold on a sec.

Haile (pronounced hay-lee), [...] [H]is father is this world’s equivalent of Ethiopian, which is where his last name is from.

OP, where did you get this name? Behindthename.com, perhaps?

Note how it says, “Submitted names are contributed by users of this website. Check marks indicate the level to which a name has been verified.” Do you see any check marks, OP?

What language is this, by the way? If we only count official languages, Ethiopia has 5: Afar, Amharic, Oromo, Somali, & Tigrinya. If we count everything native to that region? Over 90 languages. And I haven't even mentioned the dormant/extinct ones. Do you know which language this name comes from? Have you determined Kazuki’s father’s ethnic group, religion, and language(s)? Do you know just how ethnically diverse Ethiopia is?

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To All Looking for Character Names on the Internet:

Skip the name aggregators and baby name lists. They often do not cite their sources, even if they’re pulling from credible ones, and often copy each other.

If you still wish to use a name website, find a second source that isn’t a name website.

Find at least one real life individual, living or dead, who has this given name or surname. Try Wikipedia’s lists of notable individuals under "List of [ethnicity] people." You can even try searching Facebook! Pay attention to when these people were born for chronological accuracy/believability.

Make sure you know the language the name comes from, and the ethnicity/culture/religion it’s associated with.

Make sure you understand the naming practices of that culture—how many names, where they come from, name order, and other conventions.

Make sure you have the correct pronunciation of the name. Don’t always trust Wikipedia or American pronunciation guides on Youtube. Try to find a native speaker or language lesson source, or review the phonology & orthography and parse out the string one phoneme at a time.

Suggestions for web sources:

Wikipedia! Look for: “List of [language] [masculine/feminine] given names,” “List of most common [language] family names,” “List of most common surnames in [continent],” and "List of [ethnicity] people."

Census data! Harder to find due to language barriers & what governments make public, but these can really nail period accuracy. This may sound obvious, but look at the year of the character's birth, not the year your story takes place.

Forums and Reddit. No really. Multicultural couples and expats will often ask around for what to name their children. There’s also r/namenerds, where so many folks have shared names in their language that they now have “International Name Threads.” These are all great first-hand sources for name connotations—what’s trendy vs. old-fashioned, preppy vs. nerdy, or classic vs. overused vs. obscure.

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Luckily for OP, I got very curious and did some research. More on Ethiopian & Eritrean naming, plus mixed/intercultural naming and my recommendations for this character, under the cut. It's really interesting, I promise!

Ethiopian and Eritrean Naming Practices

Haile (IPA: /həjlə/ roughly “hy-luh.” Both a & e are /ə/, a central “uh” sound) is a phrase meaning “power of” in Ge’ez, sometimes known as Classical Ethiopic, which is an extinct/dormant Semitic language that is now used as a liturgical language in Ethiopian churches (think of how Latin & Sanskrit are used today). So it's a religious name, and was likely popularized by the regnal name of the last emperor of Ethiopia, Haile Selassie (“Power of the Trinity”). Ironically, for these reasons it is about as nationalistically “Ethiopian” as a name can get.

Haile is one of the most common “surnames” ever in Ethiopia and Eritrea. Why was that in quotes? Because Ethiopians and Eritreans don’t have surnames. Historically, when they needed to distinguish themselves from others with the same given name, they affixed their father’s given name, and then sometimes their grandfather’s. In modern Ethiopia and Eritrea, their given name is followed by a parent’s (usually father’s) name. First-generation diaspora abroad may solidify this name into a legal “surname” which is then consistently passed down to subsequent generations.

Intercultural Marriages and Naming

This means that Kazuki’s parents will have to figure out if there will be a “surname” going forward, and who it applies to. Your easiest and most likely option is that Kazuki’s dad would have chosen to make his second name (Kazuki’s grandpa’s name) the legal “surname.” The mom would have taken this name upon marriage, and Kazuki would inherit it also. Either moving abroad or the circumstances of the intercultural marriage would have motivated this. Thus “Haile” would be grandpa’s name, and Kazuki wouldn’t be taking his “surname” from his dad. This prevents the mom & Kazuki from having different “surnames.” But you will have to understand and explain where the names came from and the decisions dad made to get there. Otherwise, this will ring culturally hollow and indicate a lack of research.

Typically intercultural parents try to

come up with a first name that is pronounceable in both languages,

go with a name that is the dominant language of where they live, or

compromise and pick one parent’s language, depending on the circumstances.

Option 1 and possibly 3 requires figuring out which language is the father’s first language. Unfortunately, because of the aforementioned national ubiquity of Haile, you will have to start from scratch here and figure out his ethnic group, religion (most are Ethiopian Orthodox and some Sunni Muslim), and language(s).

But then again, writing these characters knowledgeably and respectfully also requires figuring out that information anyway.

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Names and naming practices are so, so diverse. Do research into the culture and language before picking a name, and never go with only one source.

~ Mod Rina

#asks #language #languages #linguistics #east africa #african #immigration #ethiopian #names #naming #research #resources #writeblr #character names #character name ideas #rina says read under the cut. read it

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iconchae · 19 days

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OFF THE FIELD ➽ L.HS | 18+

PAIRING: football captain ! lee heeseung x tennis player ! afab reader. GENRE: smut, friends to lovers. SYNOPSIS: being friends with heeseung was hard, especially when you couldn't help but want to get fucked by him. but the plan turned into something else when you accidentally made him jealous. WARNINGS: smut, nsfw, mdni, friends to lovers, unprotected sex (please don't), kisses, contains cuss words, sexual content, fingering, boob play, dirty talk, pinning, marking, public setting, bondage, blind fold, hand cuffs, physical punishment, food play, rough, jealousy, possessiveness, lmk if I missed anything. WORD COUNT: 5.1k. (a/n: help— I just had this random idea and knew that I needed to make it asap. so here it is, I hope it's not too boring <3)

Being friends with Heeseung was hard. Not because you were envious of the girls who constantly fawned over him, but because your desire for him had grown into something you couldn’t ignore. Every smile, every laugh, every touch lingered in your mind long after you’d left his side, haunting you with the fantasy of what it would be like to have more. To have him.

The thought had become an obsession, one you indulged whenever you found yourself alone in your room, the door locked and curtains drawn. Today was no different. You lay sprawled across your bed, legs parted and back arched, with your clothes discarded in a messy heap on the floor. A smutty book was held in one hand, its pages creased from how often you’d returned to the same scene—the one that always set your imagination ablaze.

"His knee placed itself between her legs as she grinded against it, ruining his pants." The words sent a shiver down your spine, every line feeding the vivid image in your mind, only it wasn’t some faceless character; it was Heeseung. It was always Heeseung.

Your free hand moved with practiced ease, fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat as you tried to mimic what you thought his touch would feel like. Your breath hitched, lips parted as you gasped softly, the dull sound of your slick movements filling the quiet room. You pressed your fingers deeper, arching into the sensation, desperate to chase the high that only thoughts of him could bring.

You imagined his strong hands on your hips, his knee pressing between your thighs, guiding you with that confident smirk you knew all too well. The idea of grinding against him, of feeling the hard muscle of his leg beneath you, made your core tighten, a rush of heat flooding your senses. You quickened your pace, fingers curling just right, as you let the fantasy consume you completely.

Your head fell back against the pillow, your moans growing louder, more desperate. You could almost hear Heeseung’s voice, low and teasing, urging you on, telling you how good you felt, how perfect you were for him. The thought of him seeing you like this, legs spread and completely undone by the mere idea of him, sent a jolt of pleasure through you.

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the sounds escaping your throat as your hips bucked against your hand, the tension building rapidly. The book slipped from your grasp, forgotten as your need overtook you. You closed your eyes, surrendering to the fantasy fully—Heeseung’s weight above you, his breath hot against your neck, the rough drag of his knee between your thighs, and the deep, aching pressure of him finally inside you.

Your climax hit you suddenly, your whole body tensing as you cried out, your fingers working frantically to prolong the blissful wave of pleasure. The image of Heeseung burned brightly behind your eyelids, his name almost slipping from your lips in the throes of your release. As the intensity slowly ebbed, you collapsed back onto the bed, chest heaving and skin flushed, still haunted by the lingering sensation of what it would be like to have him for real.

You lay there, the room heavy with the scent of your arousal, heart still racing as the reality of your solitary pleasure settled in. Being friends with Heeseung was hard, but wanting him like this, with every fiber of your being, was so much harder.

“All the best for the match,” Heeseung said, his voice smooth and confident as he flashed you a smile that made your heart stutter. His dark eyes sparkled with a warmth that always seemed to melt your resolve, and for a moment, you found yourself lost in the depths of his gaze. Heeseung was effortlessly charismatic, his presence commanding the space around him, and you couldn’t help but get caught up in his orbit every time.

“Hmm…” was all you managed to mutter in response, your voice barely above a whisper. You tried to play it cool, but the way your breath hitched gave you away. Heeseung didn’t seem to notice, though—or if he did, he didn’t let on. He just gave you a playful wink before jogging off towards the football field, the muscles in his legs flexing with every stride, his figure quickly swallowed by the throng of players warming up.

You tore your gaze away, feeling the heat creep up your neck. You had your own match to worry about, and lingering thoughts of Heeseung wouldn’t help your focus. With a resigned sigh, you made your way to the locker room. The hallway was quiet, the distant echoes of sneakers squeaking on polished floors and the faint shouts from the football field filtering through.

Inside the locker room, you changed into your tennis outfit—short white pleated skirt, a fitted top, and mini shorts underneath to maintain your modesty. As you slipped on your wristbands and tied your hair back into a neat ponytail, you took a moment to steady your breathing.

Your fingers brushed the smooth fabric of your skirt, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of confidence. The outfit was both functional and flattering, hugging your form in all the right places, and it gave you a sense of poise as you prepared to step onto the court.

You walked out into the bright afternoon light, your tennis racket in hand, and approached the court where your match was set to take place. The air was electric, a blend of anticipation and the faint scent of freshly cut grass.

Spectators lined the perimeter, their eyes following every move with rapt attention. The rhythmic thud of tennis balls against rackets echoed, mingling with the occasional cheer or gasp from the audience. You could feel the pressure of their gazes, the silent judgment of each swing, each step.

As the match began, you moved fluidly across the court, your feet light and quick on the asphalt. Each time the ball soared toward you, you met it with a sharp, confident strike, the satisfying crack of your racket cutting through the air. Your skirt fluttered with each pivot and jump, but your mini shorts kept you secure, shielding you from the scrutiny of wandering eyes.

The game demanded all of your focus; your senses were attuned to the rhythm of the ball, the strategic placement of your opponent, and the calculated timing of each hit.

Despite the concentration required, your mind kept drifting back to Heeseung. You couldn’t help but wonder if he was watching, even from afar. Was he thinking about you the way you were about him? The tension between you two had been palpable lately—small, lingering touches, the way his eyes would darken when they settled on you for too long, and the subtle, unspoken pull that drew you closer every time.

The sun bore down on you, beads of sweat trickling down your temples, but you powered through each rally, refusing to let fatigue show. The crowd's murmurs grew louder with every successful shot you made, your confidence swelling with each point won. As you neared the end of the match, you saw a familiar figure out of the corner of your eye—Heeseung, standing just outside the crowd, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed intently on you.

He was dressed in his football uniform, his hair slightly damp from practice, and the way his jersey clung to his frame made your pulse quicken. Heeseung’s expression was unreadable, a mix of concentration and something else, something deeper that made your skin tingle. You felt a surge of adrenaline, the heat of his gaze adding fuel to your movements.

With one final, decisive swing, you sent the ball flying past your opponent, sealing your victory. A round of applause erupted, but all you could focus on was Heeseung. He uncrossed his arms, clapping slowly, a small, proud smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As you made your way off the court, you could feel the flush in your cheeks, partly from exertion but mostly from the thrill of knowing he had been watching.

Heeseung met you at the edge of the court, his eyes gleaming with a mix of admiration and something else—something that made your stomach flutter. He stood close, closer than usual, the faint scent of sweat and grass clinging to him, and you could feel the tension crackling between you like static.

“You were amazing out there,” he said, his voice low and warm, carrying that same electric charge. He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “Really. You kicked ass.”

“Thanks,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly under his intense gaze. His hand lingered near your face, and for a moment, you thought he might pull you closer. Your breath caught as his thumb brushed against your cheek, lingering just a second too long, his touch soft yet charged with unspoken intent. The way he looked at you, as if he was fighting the urge to lean in and close the distance, made your heart pound in your chest.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his voice husky, his eyes searching yours as if he already knew the answer.

“Just… thinking,” you murmured, unable to meet his gaze directly. You were painfully aware of how close he was, the heat radiating off his body, the way his presence seemed to engulf you entirely. Your fingers tightened around your racket, a flimsy attempt to anchor yourself against the overwhelming urge to lean into him, to let the magnetic pull between you finally snap into place.

“About what?” Heeseung pressed, his voice dropping lower, his breath fanning across your cheek. His proximity was intoxicating, every nerve in your body alight with the promise of what could be.

“About… us,” you confessed, barely audible, but Heeseung heard you. His expression softened, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips, as if weighing the gravity of your words.

Heeseung’s hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing light circles that sent sparks skittering down your spine. He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, the space between you charged with a simmering tension that begged to be broken.

“I’ve been thinking about us, too,” he whispered, his lips just a breath away from yours, the air thick with unspoken desire. The world around you blurred, the noise of the crowd fading into a distant hum as the two of you stood there, caught in the precipice of something more.

As you stand in the dimly lit boy's changing room, the mirror in front of you reflects the surreal scene unfolding. You didn't know how it happened or when it happened but right now, Heeseung, your best friend, has you pinned against the lockers, your legs wrapped around his waist as he holds you up.

His fingers, long and thick, are buried deep inside you, eliciting gasps and moans from your lips. The smell of sweat and testosterone fills the air, mingling with the scent of your arousal. Heeseung grunts softly, his breath hot against your neck. "You're so tight," he growls. "Like a vice around my fingers." His hips buck against you, his hard length rubbing against your thighs through his football shorts.

You bury your face in his neck, your fingers clutching at his broad shoulders. "Feels so good," you pant. "More, Heeseung. I want more." Your words spur him on, and he adds a third finger, stretching you wide.

Heeseung starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, his thrusts deep and relentless. The sound of his fingers slamming against your pussy echoes through the changing room, mixing with your cries of pleasure. Your legs tremble around him, your toes curling as he hits that sweet spot inside you.

Heeseung's voice is low and commanding. "You like that, baby? You like me stretching out your little hole?" His dirty talk sends shivers down your spine. You nod, unable to speak, and bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moans.

With a grunt he pulls down his shorts along with his boxers, Heeseung lifts you higher and aligns the thick head of his erection with your slick opening. He pauses, his dark eyes locked onto yours in the mirror's reflection. "Ready for me, love?"

He slowly pushes into you once you nod eagerly, the stretch sending a rush of pleasure through your body. You throw your head back, letting out a loud moan as he fills you completely. His cock throbs inside you, the sensation making you quiver.

Heeseung grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into the flesh. "Look at us," he growls, nodding at the mirror. You look up, your eyes meeting his intense gaze in the reflection. He begins to thrust into you, slowly at first, then harder and faster. As Heeseung fucks you, the sound of your slapping skin and heavy breathing fills the changing room. Your breasts sway with each thrust, your nipples hardening into tight peaks inside your sports bra.

He reaches up to unhook your bra, throw it away and caress your breasts, his fingers brushing against your rigid nipples. You mewl at the sensation, your body tensing as pleasure courses through you. Heeseung's grip on your hips tightens as his pace quickens. "Touch yourself," he demands. "Play with your pretty little pearl while I pound into you."

You obey, reaching down to rub your clit in tight circles. The combination of Heeseung's thick cock and your own fingers sends you hurtling towards an intense orgasm. Your legs shake, your walls clenching around his dick as you scream in ecstasy. "AH! AH! AH!"

Heeseung's face contorts with pleasure as your inner muscles milk his flesh. He lets out a low growl, his voice hoarse as he rasps, "You're going to make me come, baby. Keep squeezing me like that." His words egg you on, and you tighten your legs around him, pulling him deeper with each thrust. He buries his face in your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin as he reaches his peak. He grunts loudly, his hips jerking as he spills into you.

As he finishes, you feel his hot cum filling your pussy, the sensation pushing you over the edge into another intense orgasm. You scream his name, your body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. "HEESEUNG! HEESEUNG!"

Heeseung catches his breath as he slowly pulls out, a smug grin on his face. He watches as his cum drips down your inner thighs, leaving you feeling deliciously dirty and satisfied. "Damn."

The entire week had passed in an agonizingly slow blur, and the tension between you and Heeseung was almost unbearable. After finally crossing that line with your best friend—exploring the boundaries of friendship in ways you’d only ever fantasized about—he seemed to vanish from your life entirely.

He didn’t call, didn’t text, and somehow always seemed busy or just plain uninterested whenever you crossed paths. It was driving you crazy. Did he regret it? Did he not enjoy it? Was he simply avoiding the awkwardness? A dozen scenarios ran through your mind, each more unsettling than the last.

Tonight, you were at a party hosted by a mutual friend, a buzzing, crowded house filled with laughter, loud music, and the faint scent of spilled beer. You found yourself in a conversation with Jay, whose playful grin and easygoing charm had always put you at ease. He had an arm casually slung over your shoulder, his presence comforting yet strangely thrilling, as he ruffled your hair in that friendly, older brother kind of way. “You’ve been working out, huh? Your muscles are so big, Jay,” you commented, giving his bicep a squeeze.

You didn’t notice the way Heeseung’s eyes narrowed from across the room, his jaw set in a hard line as he watched the interaction. Jay chuckled, leaning in just a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Sweetheart, I’ve got something else even bigger,” Jay teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, caught off guard by the sudden flirtation, and you quickly turned your gaze away, hiding your embarrassment behind a shy smile.Heeseung’s grip on his drink tightened, his knuckles whitening. Every laugh you shared with Jay felt like a deliberate jab, every touch like a betrayal. He tried to play it cool, leaning against the wall with a casual air, but his eyes told a different story—one of jealousy, frustration, and a growing sense of possessiveness that he couldn’t quite control.

By the time the party ended, Heeseung was practically seething. He watched as you politely waved goodbye to Jay, who winked at you before heading off with a carefree swagger. You didn’t see the way Heeseung’s gaze followed Jay, almost daring him to look back, but it didn’t matter—Jay was oblivious, and you were already heading toward Heeseung’s car.

The drive was tense, the silence between you thick and suffocating. Heeseung’s grip on the steering wheel was firm, his knuckles still pale. His eyes remained fixed on the road, but the stiffness in his posture screamed of pent-up anger and something more—a wounded pride, perhaps, or the sting of seeing you so easily entertained by someone else.

“So, you like Jay or what?” Heeseung finally spoke, his voice laced with a bitter edge that you didn’t immediately catch. You turned to face him, brow furrowing slightly at the question.“I mean, he’s good,” you replied honestly, oblivious to the storm brewing beside you. “He’s nice. And he’s a gentleman.”

Heeseung let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he tightened his grip on the wheel. “Gentleman? That guy was undressing you with his eyes the entire night.”

You shrugged, not really sure where this was coming from. “Not that I mind.”

Heeseung’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking just beneath the skin as he fought to keep his composure. “You don’t mind?” His tone was sharp now, the undercurrent of jealousy unmistakable.

“Hm,” you murmured, looking out the window, trying to ignore the tension between you. It felt suffocating, and for a moment, you wondered if maybe you had pushed too far. But then again, Heeseung had been ignoring you first.

Heeseung exhaled harshly through his nose, the car suddenly feeling too small, too cramped. “You’ll regret that answer,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. You glanced over at him, catching the flicker of something dark and possessive in his eyes—a promise of payback, of making you realize just how much he wanted you to be his, and only his.

He pulled the car abruptly into an empty parking lot, the tires screeching slightly as he parked with more force than necessary. Before you could question what was happening, he was out of the car, rounding the front with long, determined strides. He yanked open your door, the sudden rush of cool night air sending a shiver down your spine.

“What are you doing?” you asked, startled as Heeseung pulled you out, his grip firm yet careful, his eyes blazing with something you hadn’t seen before.

“Showing you exactly why you don’t need Jay,” Heeseung replied, his voice low, almost a growl, as he backed you up against the side of the car. His hands found your waist, fingers digging in just enough to send a spark of anticipation racing through your veins. He leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “I’m the only one you should be thinking about.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours—demanding, urgent, and filled with all the frustration and desire that had been building up between you. His hands roamed freely, tugging at your clothes with an impatience that spoke of his need to claim you, to remind you that he was the one who knew you best, who could make you feel this way.

There, against the cold metal of the car, you felt the full force of Heeseung’s jealousy and longing, the heat of his touch igniting every nerve in your body. He kissed you like he was trying to prove a point, his mouth hot and insistent against yours, each kiss a reminder that no one else could ever compare.

As his hands slid under your shirt, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake, you realized that Heeseung had no intention of letting you forget what you shared. He wasn’t just your best friend anymore—he was the one who had seen you, wanted you, and wasn’t afraid to fight for you. And in that moment, you knew that whatever this was between you, it was far from over.

Heeseung watched you squirm with a mixture of frustration and desire. He had wanted to punish you, to make you feel a fraction of the hurt he'd felt when he saw you with Jay. He paced around the room, his jaw clenched, hands balled into fists.

He paused by the dresser, running his fingers over the cold metal handcuffs. A dark thought crossed his mind, and he picked them up, along with a silk blindfold. He approached the bed, his steps heavy with intent.

He gently lifted your head, securing the blindfold over your eyes before turning his attention to the handcuffs. He fastened one to your wrist, the cold metal biting into your skin. He then attached the other end to the headboard, leaving you helpless and trapped.

You whimpered softly, your heart racing with fear and anticipation. Heeseung's breath was hot against your ear as he leaned in to speak. “You're going to stay like this until I'm done punishing you,” he whispered, his voice low and menacing. “And I'm just getting started.”

He dragged his fingers down your arms, your sides, your thighs, igniting goosebumps on your skin. He paused at your knees, lifting one leg and placing it on his shoulder. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as he ran his hands up your inner thigh, his touch maddeningly light.

Heeseung continued his merciless punishment, his hands and objects unknown to you, working in tandem to break you down emotionally and physically. The blindfold and handcuffs left you at his mercy, unable to escape or even anticipate his next move.

First, it was the ice. He trailed cubes up your thighs, over your belly, and between your breasts. You hissed at the cold touch, writhing on the bed. He chuckled darkly, “Cold, baby?” Without warning, he pressed an ice cube against your warm, wet center. You gasped, the sensation intense and overwhelming. You heard the clinking of ice against a glass, and then his voice, “You're so hot, and I'm making you cold. How does that feel, hmm?”

He held the ice cube against your pussy for what felt like an eternity, the cold seeping into your core. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the pain and discomfort mounted. Every now and then, he'd press the ice cube against your clit, making you scream into the blindfold.

“Please, Heeseung, I can't take it anymore!” you pleaded, your voice shaking with tears. “Shut up,” he replied coldly, pressing the ice cube against your sensitive clit once more. ”You're not allowed to speak until I say so.”

You bit your lip to keep from crying out, your body tensing as he continued the torturous punishment. He ran the ice-cold cube up and down your folds, sometimes slowly, sometimes quickly, never giving you what you truly wanted. “Heeseung, please...”

Heeseung silenced you with a sharp tap on your inner thigh. “I thought I told you to shut up,” he growled. “Now, you've earned yourself a little extra punishment. Open your mouth.” You hesitantly parted your lips, and he slid the ice cube into your mouth.

Heeseung watched as the ice melted against your tongue, a cold tear trickling down your cheek. “Now, I'm going to fuck you with this vibrator,” he announced, pulling a sleek black toy from his pocket. Heeseung's words sent a shiver down your spine, the unknown heightening your senses. You felt the cool silicone toy press against your entrance, and you clenched your teeth around the melting ice cube in your mouth. He slowly pushed the toy inside you, inch by inch, stretching you deliciously.

"Now, let's see how long you can keep quiet,” Heeseung taunted, turning the toy to a low hum. Your breath hitched as the vibrations washed over you. He leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. “Remember, no speaking, no making a sound, no matter what.”

Heeseung's eyes glinted with determination. “This is going to be a long punishment.” He circled the vibrator around your clit, making you squirm in his grasp. Then he began to thrust it in and out of you, gradually increasing the speed. Your mouth was still stuffed with the melting ice cube, and you desperately tried to stifle your cries as the toy battered against your g-spot. Heeseung added the ice cube to the mix, pressing it against your asshole while the vibrator continued its merciless assault on your pussy.

Sweat beaded on your brow as you bit down on the ice to muffle your whimpers. The cold and heat mixed within you, overwhelming your senses. Heeseung intensified the torture by slapping your thighs and breasts, leaving reddened marks on your skin. Your hands were cuffed above your head, leaving you helpless and at his mercy. You begged and pleaded, desperate to touch him, to feel his cock against your lips, but Heeseung remained firm. “Not until you learn to keep quiet,” he hissed, the vibrator still buzzing furiously inside you.

With each unfulfilled thrust, your resolve crumbled. You let out a muffled cry, your body bucking against the handcuffs and the cold sheets. Heeseung paused, his face hard. “Looks like someone needs more training.” Heeseung pulled the vibrator out of you, leaving a shivering and needy mess. His fingers traced your thighs, up to your hips, to your breasts, and finally to your jaw. He squeezed it gently before whispering, “Beg me again.”

You were already panting and desperate, but you mustered your strength and whispered, “Please, let me touch you. Please, I need you inside me.” Heeseung smirked and slowly lowered his head between your thighs. Heeseung's tongue traced circles around your clit, driving you to the brink of madness. You arched off the bed, straining against the handcuffs as he increased his tempo. Your cries became moans, then sobs as the pleasure became almost unbearable.

Just as you were about to shatter, Heeseung stopped. He rose from the bed, leaving you breathless and unfulfilled. “Not yet,” he said coolly, and walked out of the room. You heard the distant jingling of keys and the hum of the refrigerator. Moments later, he returned, carrying a tub of ice cream and a spoon. “Since you can't keep quiet, maybe some cold dessert will help,“ he taunted. He sat beside you and slowly fed you spoonfuls of the cold, sweet ice cream, ignoring your frustrated whimpers.

Heeseung scooped another spoonful and held it above your mouth. As you opened to accept it, he gently pressed the cold treat against your lips, then trailed it down your chin, across your chest, and between your breasts, coating your skin with the sticky sweetness.

He continued to spread the ice cream over your body, circling your breasts, pinching the hardened peaks, then dragging the cold, wet spoon down your quivering belly, and finally, parting your thighs to coat your swollen, throbbing folds.

He traced the edge of the spoon along your nether lips, leaving a cold, tingling sensation in its wake. You gasped, arching your back, moaning softly as he began to tease you using the ice cream as his tool. Heeseung's voice dripped with cold intent. “You wanted to touch him, did you not?” He slowly spread more ice cream over your feverish skin. “You called his muscles big? Well, now you'll learn the difference between boyish arms and a real man's physique.”

His touch grew harsher, his breathing heavier. “Every time you disobey, it'll be ice cream and cold showers. And you'll only get to touch me when I say so.” He lowered his head, his breath cooling the icy mess on your belly. “Understand?”

You nodded quickly, tears pricking at your eyes as he used the spoon to scoop up a generous helping of ice cream. He held it over your face, the cold droplets falling onto your cheeks and nose, before he pressed the spoon against your lips, forcing you to open wide and receive the punishment. As you lay there, blindfolded and handcuffed, you felt him lean closer. His breath tickled your ear as he whispered, “I'm going to teach you to appreciate what you have.” You heard the spoon clatter onto the table before his mouth was on yours.

He licked the ice cream from your lips, his tongue cold and demanding. He sucked on your tongue, his mouth moving to your cheek, his nose rubbing against your tears. He then moved down to your chin, licking the ice cream from your skin before moving to your neck, leaving a trail of cold kisses.

Heeseung gripped your thighs, his fingers digging into your flesh as he buried his face between your legs. He licked and sucked the ice cream from your folds, his tongue cold and unyielding. He nipped at your tender flesh, then soothed it with slow, languid strokes. He moved up to your chest, his mouth closing over a hardened nipple. He sucked the ice cream from your breast, his teeth scraping against your sensitive skin. He then moved to the other breast, giving it the same treatment before standing up and slapping your pussy with the cold, wet ice cream.

You hissed at the sudden cold and the sharp slap. He chuckled darkly. “Count,” he ordered, his voice cold. “And if you forget to, I'll start over.” He raised his hand, the cold, wet ice cream dripping from his fingers. “Ready?”

You nodded, bracing yourself. “One!” you cried out as the cold, sticky mess hit your core. He slowly dragged his fingers down, spreading the ice cream, then slapped your wet flesh again. “Two!” you moaned.

He continued the slow torture, his voice growing colder with each count. “Three... Four... Five...” Each slap was followed by the slow drag of his fingers, spreading the cold, melting ice cream. Your moans grew louder, your body tensing with each touch. “Six... Seven...”

His touch became gentler, his fingers slowly circling your entrance. “Eight... Nine...” He pushed two fingers inside you, the cold, wet sensation intensifying as he curled them upward. “Ten...” He leaned down, his warm breath on your ear.

He whispered, “Beg.” You whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand. ”Please... Please, Heeseung... I can't... I need to...” He silenced you with a hard kiss, his fingers moving faster inside you. “Beg properly,” he growled.

“Please, Heeseung... I'm going to... I'm going to explode... Please let me cum... Please, I need it so badly... I'll do anything... Just let me cum!” You begged, your voice breaking. Heeseung pulled his fingers out, leaving you aching and empty.

Heeseung smirked, his fingers still wet with your arousal. “What about Jay? You said he was big, didn't you?” He traced circles around your entrance with his cold fingers. “Are you thinking about him right now?”

You bit your lip, hesitating. Heeseung's touch became firmer, his voice harder. “Answer me. Is Jay on your mind as you lie here, handcuffed and begging for release?” He slowly pushed one cold, wet finger back inside you, then two, curling them upwards. “N-no...” you stammered, your breath hitching. “I'm not... I'm not thinking about him.” Heeseung's expression darkened. He added a third finger, his touch punishing. “Liar,” he hissed.

He pulled his fingers out, leaving you empty and aching once more. ”You want to think about Jay, don't you? You want to imagine his big, thick cock stretching your tight little pussy.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

Heeseung's anger melted away, replaced by a softness he hated to admit. He gently stroked your clit, trying to coax you into an orgasm. “Please, just cum for me,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I can't stand the thought of you thinking about him.” You whimpered, the intense pleasure Heeseung was wringing out of you. “I'm sorry...” you gasped, your hips bucking against his hand. “It's not... It's not like that... You know I only want you...”

Heeseung let out a shaky breath, his touch gentling. “Good...” he murmured, his fingers slowly circling your heat. “Just me... Say it.” You moaned, your head falling back. “Only you, Heeseung... Please, just you...”

“Only me...” Heeseung repeated, his voice barely above a whisper. He increased the pressure of his touch, watching as you writhed under him. Your cries of pleasure filled the room, drowning out any other thoughts or doubts.

You screamed as your orgasm crashed over you, your body shaking with the intensity of it. Heeseung watched, his heart pounding, before gently pulling you into his lap. He took your lip between his, kissing you softly as he held you close, his dominance gentling into a caring, protective embrace. You nuzzled into his neck, still catching your breath. Heeseung's hand was still in your hair, no longer holding you down but gently stroking through the strands. “Good girl, you're not thinking about Jay or anyone else again.”

Heeseung carefully unbuckled the blindfold, his touch gentle as he revealed your eyes to the dimly lit room. Then, he slowly unlocked the handcuffs, massaging your wrists tenderly. “Come here...” He pulled you into a tight hug, his voice soft.

You wrapped your arms around Heeseung's waist, burying your face in his chest. A moment of silence passed between the two of you, before he leaned down and whispered, “I've got you..”

“And you belong to me,” Heeseung murmured, his voice firm yet gentle. He tilted your chin up, his eyes locked onto yours. “No more talking to Jay, alright? You're mine, only mine...”

• september three — 08:56 pm

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