Sub!stray Kids - Tumblr Posts

hi im a puppy jisung, puppy yunho, puppy seungmin, and kitty felix enthusiast wb yall

introduction

i just realized i never introduced myself so here:

hi! my name is mirae! i don’t really feel comfortable revealing a lot of stuff abt me, but here is just some stuff to get familiar with me

korean american 

loves korean food 

loves calligraphy, kpop journaling, and digital art 

stans ateez, nct, skz, bts, seventeen, day6, x1, wanna one, enhypen, cix, p1harmony, txt, cravity, and more 

some of my biases are song hyeongjun (cravity), han seungwoo (victon), jae (day6), park sunghoon (enhypen), jisung (skz), hyunjin (skz), felix (skz), wonwoo (svt), seonghwa (ateez), san (ateez), and don’t even get me started on nct, i literally can’t choose a freaking bias. 

i like other groups like blackpink, victon, izone, twice, and more but i dont stan them.

i like writing both sub and dom idol fanfictions <3

i don’t have a specific upload schedule or anything, im just uploading stuff whenever i feel like it

i can’t really think of any particular kinks i dont like at the moment, but if yall send me an ask with a kink that makes me uncomfortable, i just wont answer it.

please send me asks! i would love to talk with yall. dont be shy hehe.

i feel like puppy hybrid! jisung and puppy hybrid! seungmin would be the type to enjoy playing with your boobs. randomly squeezing them when you’re in bed while he’s on your lap. or cuddling and he nuzzles his face into your breasts like they’re a pillow. i just feel like they prefer tits in general. sucking on them while looking up at you with puppy eyes. 

stray kids dom or sub

bang chan: this man is definitely a dom. i mean, have you see him? he’s probably on the softer side but can sometimes be rough. i can imagine him being into doggy and squeezing ur ass lol. i bet he would be good at eating you out, and i also see him as a more romantic person. 

changbin: dOM! i can just imagine him pounding into you against a wall while his arm is around your neck choking you. during sex he lets out soft grunts, but i wouldn’t say hes a very loud person. he probably gets a bit louder during climax. he’s probably a lot rougher than chan. degrading o-O

han jisung: subby boi! i honestly can’t imagine him as a dom, he’s just too cute. i can imagine him being goofy and mischievous, but shy and cute in bed. he would need lots of praise and care during sex cause he may get a little insecure. 

felix: like jisung, i can’t imagine him as a dom. i feel like he would also need lots and lots of praise during sex. i can see him being the type to enjoy being fucked in a soft oversized hoodie, probably belonging to you, while covering his face shyly with his cute hands. pegging? yes sir 

hyunjin: i can probably imagine him as a service top sub. it was hard to decide for him honestly. i can’t see him BEING fucked, but he is probably the type to fuck you but then whimper and enjoy receiving praise from you. he would love the feeling of you pulling his hair and massaging his scalp when he eats you out. the sensation makes him feel fuzzy inside.

minho: i think hes a sub that doesn’t like admiting he’s a sub. it’s like he has a bad boy persona wherever he goes, but when it comes to you, he keeps up his tough persona until he just melts into jelly. probably is really shy and gets embarrassed secretly the morning after when he realizes he moaned too much or was a little too into it.

seungmin: this boi is the softest sub. again, like felix, i can see him being fucked in a soft oversized hoodie. for some reason i always associate seungmin with a oversized baby blue hoodie or sweater. he probably lets out the softest and cutest whines and moans. 

jeongin: to be completely honest, he may be the maknae, but i can see him a dom. he would probably be the type to fuck the shit out of you and be like “does it feel good noona?” while having a smirk or grin on his face. i can see him being rough with someone older than him. his visuals honestly changed a lot compared to when he debuted, he got a lot more mature

stray kids masterlist

chan

jisung 

drabble (sub!hybrids)

drabble (more sub!hybrids) 

jeongin

hyunjin

felix 

drabble (sub!hybrids)

seungmin

drabble (sub!hybrids)

drabble (more sub!hybrids)

changbin

minho

who r ur favorite sub!idols?

these arent in a specific order btw lmao

shotaro, mark, renjun, felix, seungmin, soobin, beomgyu, san, yangyang, yonghee, hyunsuk, jisung (skz), yoongi, and there are more but im stopping here

would anyone like to provide me w some thoughts about sub tsunderes…

thinking about how there isn't enough on virgin!minho

like things get a little handsy and then you learn how sensitive he is... idk i just love subby whiny min but i haven't seen any inexperienced/virgin minho around :/

Made of Glass

pairing: lee minho x reader

warnings: dom afab reader (no pronouns are mentioned, reader does have a hole but i don't think anything else - besides minho referring to the reader as a goddess once), sub virgin minho, lots of build-up, little bit of a handjob, grinding on his bare dick, penetrative sex ( r receiving, haven't written it in a long time so don't get mad if it's shit😻), fluffy build up (they're in love your honour), he says he hates you a lot (but he doesn't mean it cause we love subby tsundere boys)

word count: erm...about 4.6k

-- MINORS BEGONE --

Minho wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was a virgin.

Untouched and "pure", undirtied by the hands of another some might even say. Specifically you, teasing him with light kisses and gentle touches.

And sure, he'd gotten to 2nd base in a high school relationship and older drunken mishaps but never anything more. Never as so far as to...feel certain things from another person.

Or from himself for that matter.

But no, wasn't ashamed that he was a virgin but he was maybe, perhaps, just a little bit embarrassed.

And he had absolutely zero idea how to breach the topic with you much less approach it.

You, who knew he was a virgin. Always so patient and careful with him.

Obviously, it should be expected that in the heat of the moment you stop when he freezes up or slows when he tenses up. But none of his previous partners had ever treated him so nicely, without getting angry or miffed off after at the very least.

They hadn't kissed his cheeks gently with a smile and conceded into a cuddle after it happened several times. They hadn't wrapped him up in their arms and turned on a movie, or delicately asked to talk about it after the fact.

You did though.

With no questions and no pressuring and no guilt-tripping. No anger.

He loved it. He loved you...as long as that had taken for him to come to terms with, with you and with himself.

He loved you.

And he was ready.

To...to, yeah.

And what better way than to just come out and say it? But that's embarrassing.

"I think I wanna...you know."

"Darling, sorry, can you speak up?" You looked up at him, yawning and setting your phone down on the coffee table.

He flushed and turned away, "um..." and he could feel every ounce of confidence in his body drain out of him like that.

Under your eyes, like this, you so attentive to listen to him. So nice, giving him your whole attention like he was the only thing that mattered.

You patted the couch next to you and he had no choice to sit down, falling into your arms like he was the missing piece to your puzzle.

He was quick to nuzzle his face into your throat, hiding against you. You just made him so nervous. Why did you make him so nervous still? After dating for this long, you shouldn't make him feel this way still.

Fluttery and gooey and nervous.

He'd say he hated it. The way you made his heart flutter...as sappy and love-drunk as that sounded.

He'd say he hated it when your hand cupped his cheek, turning him back to you. But he didn't hate it. Not one bit.

"I love you."

A grin split across your face, lighting up in that way you always did when he said those three words. No matter how many times he's said it, it would still drive you crazy like it was the first.

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose gently. "Say it again for me darling? Just one more time, please?"

Now you were teasing him. But you couldn't help it. You loved teasing him so much. Loved fluttering kisses over his face and hearing him say those words again and again and again.

You didn't think you could ever get sick of it.

"Fuck you," He groaned but his tone with filled with anything but malice, making you laugh; letting him bury his head into your neck. "Fuck you for being so..."

"So what?" You challenged. "Hmm?"

His voice was muffled against your skin, barely legible, "So...insufferable." But he must like suffering then. "And intolerable." And he must have built up some tolerability, maybe because he was around you so much, indulging in you far too often.

You pulled his body against yours, leaning back to slot his body onto yours.

He was too eager to follow your lead.

To let himself be maneuvered so his hips were pressed against yours and your chest was aligned with his, so softly you moved him, so carefully you treated him.

He could feel your heart beating in time with his, fluttering and quick. He loved the feeling like he loved everything about you.

Fuck you for making him feel like this.

For the butterflies in his stomach. And the flush on his cheeks. And the hard-on between you and him, wishing desperately you wouldn't notice.

But of course you would.

You pulled his face from your neck, hands holding either side of his face, keeping him in place - like he'd want to be anywhere else.

"So I'm insufferable and you're...what?" Your lips pouted and he felt the overwhelming need to kiss them. To kiss you. Hard and fast and the way he needed.

He pretended to think but was only sidetracked by the feeling of your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, tracing his lips and following down to his jawline.

"Mmm, I'm...handsome. And, uh," he let out an embarrassing breathy sigh when you lean in, kissing the corner of his mouth so softly he wouldn't be sure it was there if he hadn't watched you.

"And...?" You prompted, smiling coyly. You knew the effect you had on him.

You peppered kisses over his face, following where you'd touched him with your fingers seconds before. You nipped at his cheek and pulled away before he could properly reply.

"...pretty?" Though the words came out more as a question than anything else. "I mean-"

A giggle escaped your lips, "Hell yeah you are," you brush your nose against his, looking at him in a way so scarily intimate he has to look away first.

"Pretty..." you mutter, sighing. "Y'know, I think I can accept being insufferable and intolerable if you can accept being pretty," you whisper, guiding him back to you with a delicate kiss, finally to his lips. "And handsome," you murmur, smiling against him as he deepens the kiss, hands grasping at the fabric of your shirt.

You pull away with a small teasing smirk, "And beautiful, and gorgeous, and stunnin-mmph!"

His hands fist the fabric, pulling you in before you can continue with your stupid rant. Before you can focus on the way his heart pounds when you add on another praise.

You hum and recede into the motion, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth, sloppyily, in the way oddly reminiscent of the way horny teenagers kiss.

In a matter of seconds he's turned the kiss from sweet to something not-so-sweet.

Exactly what he wanted, and maybe he wouldn't even need to suffer through the awkwardness of asking.

Everything he put in was returned by you in the tenfold, one hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, the effects making you laugh against his lips. His form shivering into yours, full-bodied and obvious.

"Sensitive?" You pulled away, with a breath, mouth curling up. "It's okay, it's cute-mmph!"

He crashed his lips against yours again, effectively cutting off your words and your thoughts. Even if you continued to play with the nape of his neck, fingers teasing over the spot. The feeling only made him more and more desperate.

But if he was needy, you were nothing but eager to reply, deepening the kiss like you were trying to consume him whole.

"Darling," you mutter, too soft. "Minnie," you groan, holding him to you gently.

But you were too soft, too gentle.

He wanted more, he wanted you.

Unrestrained, doing what you wanted for once, using him like you wanted. Because he wanted it.

Wanted to not be treated like he was a piece of glass, in danger of breaking every moment. He loved how carefully you treated him but now he wanted to be treated rough, he needed to be treated rough.

But he didn't want to say it.

Slowly, he pressed his hips against yours, shuddering at the fizzle of friction sending sparks through his nerves.

"Minho," you sighed, nails scratching against his scalp making him whine. "Darling," with a particularly harsh nip to his lips, almost hard enough to break the skin - that was what he wanted.

A whimper built up in his throat only to be swallowed down. He wasn't that desperate yet. Even if every one of his movements seemed to argue otherwise, finding a clumsy rhythm in grinding against you, replicating and intensifying those sparks.

Building them up to what he hoped was more.

Even if the motions were clumsy and new. Curious but wanting all the same, the way he moved was raw, exploring and ruining. It made his head spin and everything else go foggy.

You dragged your mouth away from his, tugging his head up by his hair to lick your way down his neck.

A lick and an open-mouthed kiss, making him shudder and shake, heat emanating from the areas you touched and the places you pressed together.

Separated by stupid clothes but not enough to stop him.

He must look pathetic the way he thrusts against you, each discordant grind getting more desperate, more sloppy with the skim of your mouth. With the drag of your tongue down his jaw and pulse-point, heart thrumming beneath your lips. With every shockwave of euphoria that tingles down his spine, with every moan and whisper of his name that leaves your lips.

"Minho," "Minnie," "Baby," "Darling,"

His head is too fuzzy to worry about anything else. To think about the needy noises that leave him, he's sure he sounds lewd, and dirty.

From just dry-humping against you.

But it's not enough. He wants you rough and hard and on top of him. Showing him what to do, telling him what to do. To make him feel good, to make you feel good.

He falters imperceptibly. Should he...?

No, he doesn't want to. He can't. Because how is he supposed to ask you to-

He's caught up in his head but his body works on autopilot, reacting to the sensations that are bringing him closer and closer to cumming in his boxers.

Caught up in his thoughts but not so much so that he forgets about you,

and he certainly doesn't miss anything you say, like the words "Such a fucking good boy," nearly growled into his throat, voice husky and ragged as your teeth scrape down his skin.

Good boy?

He freezes. Heat pools deep inside of him, warm and making him painfully, painfully hard. The words push him nearly to the edge, and he can feel himself on the precipice of-

And then he's being shoved back, hard.

Harder than you meant to, but necessary for what you were about to do.

You pant, as does he, both of you flushed and trying to catch the breath stolen from your lungs.

No, no, not when he was finally getting somewhere, not when finally, finally he was getting what he wanted. Not when you were actually unrestrained and-

"I'm sorry."

His gaze snapped to yours.

"What?"

Your lips were red and parted, he was sure his weren't in much better shape. All he wanted to do was kiss them again, and again, and again.

He wants to hear you call him a good boy again.

"I-I'm sorry," you ran your hand through your hair. "I should've...I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry Minho." This time you were the one looking away.

"The fuck do you mean?" He snaps. It came out a little harsher than intended, he admits. But really, he was sitting here, horny and pent-up and just wanting to get fucked, and here you were, pushing him away and apologizing?

You blink, slowly, surprised.

And here he is, fuming.

Why won't you just fuck him?

"I'm sorry-" would you just stop saying that? His glare shuts you up. "Um," You only looked confused now, a furrow between your brow.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You watch it.

He wishes you'd just make the first move.

Because now he was going to have to say it. Out loud. To you. Not just mumble some nonsense and hope that you'd pick it up.

"I want you." He said simply, inching closer to you.

You nodded but made no move to continue anything. "Okay..." then a sigh. "I'm going to need you to elaborate just a little, Minho."

The flush across his cheeks spreads, down his neck and over his collarbone. Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he was made of glass or something? Like you cared about him so much it made him melt.

Fuck, he loved you.

"Look at me baby." You gently cup his face, turning him to meet your eyes. "You can tell me."

You definitely knew.

He could see it in your eyes, the worry giving way to a teasing look. Now you just wanted to humiliate him huh?

He hated you.

"Shut up."

You smiled, pulling him into your chest again, laying between your legs. Just like you were before. "Well that's not what good boys say, now is it?"

He pulled his face away, burying it into your shoulder to hide from your eyes. "I don't like you." His voice came out muffled into your shirt.

You only scoff out a laugh. "We both know that's not true darling. You love me." Voice dropping to a whisper, you lean into his ear. "Do I make you nervous baby?"

Someone just kill him now.

Put an end to his misery.

"N-no;" his voice still muffled in the fabric of his your shirt. "you're just-"

"Just what?" You challenge, fingers teasing into his hair, the way you know he likes it. "You're a big boy, you can use your words, can't you?"

He shudders and swears he can hear your smirk. "I...- fuck you."

You tug on his hair, making him face you. You swear he has a eye-contact problem. Or maybe he just gets too nervous looking you in the eye.

Either way, he's too adorable not to coo at.

"I was imagining this the either way around, but whatever rocks your boat~" you purr. "All you have to do is tell me what you want."

His hips jolt against yours, heat filling his body. As soon as he does though, your free hand stills his hips, fingertips teasing under the hem of his shirt while you look at him expectantly.

He wants to hide again, but you hold him in place. Pinning him against you, not letting him look away, not letting him move.

He wants you so bad.

"Touch me..." He mutters, and your hand slides just a bit higher on his abdomen, your thighs squeezing just a bit tighter around his hips.

It's over for him. He knows as soon as your lips turn up just a bit more into a coy smile. "Where?"

When he doesn't reply soon enough you skim your hand up and over his ribcage. Breathing growing heavy as your other leaves his hair, trailing down his neck and over his shoulder, slipping just beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Here?"

Such a simple touch makes him feel hot.

"Or here?"

Slowly, your hand under his shirt makes its path towards his chest.

He gasps lightly when your fingers tweak over his nipple, delighting in the way he quivers, rutting against you. You click your tongue at him. "You know, I really can't do anything to you until you tell me what you really want." Lips ghost over his ear, nipping lightly at the shell. "Too bad, really. I could take such good care of a cute little virgin like you~"

His voice cracks under the weight of your touch; trying to clear his throat while biting back a moan. "I'm not cute-"

You cut him off with a kiss, tentatively, like you hadn't stolen his breath with a kiss only minutes ago. Like you're afraid to break him.

But he wants you to break him.

The kiss is too short for his taste but it effectively cuts off his thought process, making him nearly dumb against you. Not dumb enough to not catch the smile against his skin, "I'm not cute." But he sounds so cute. It only makes the smile widen, turning your attention to trail kisses down his neck, murmuring between each press of your lips.

"Yes you are." Kiss.

And for some reason, he can't argue.

"Remember?" Kiss.

"I'm...what was it?" Smile, kiss, lick.

"Intolerable?" A pause, but only for a second, taking the moment to drag your tongue across his throat.

"And you're cute," Stopping to suck on the spot where his pulse thrums, feeling his heart beat under your lips.

"And pretty..." Kissing, once again, over the pretty mark you've left on his pale skin.

"And beautiful...and stunning...and..." you pull away, looking to see his eyes hooded and pupils blown. "...not getting anything more until you can tell me what exactly you want here."

You pinch his nipple one more time before pulling away, leaving him cold, whining, grinding desperately between your legs.

He's hard enough, you wonder if he would've cum in his pants if you hadn't stopped.

"I..." he starts and you wait patiently for him to continue. If you've learned anything about Minho, it's that he's nothing if not embarrassed to voice his wants. Especially the ones like this.

You remember how he blushed and couldn't stop wringing his hands when you worked him up to ask to kiss you for the first time.

The way he couldn't look you in the eye, focusing anywhere else.

But he knows by now, you're nothing if not a tease, willing to play the long game to get him to tell you what he wants.

Fuck you.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

He's so hard though, it hurts. And his skin nearly burns with the need to be touched, to feel you on him again. And all he wants to do is let you have your way with him.

Something that won't happen until he tells you.

"Please," he whines. Though he knows it's not enough. He just wants you. "Please?" On him, touching him, teasing him, kissing him, consuming him. "I need it." pressing a sloppy kiss to your collarbones. "Just fuck me, I want you so, so bad." He pants, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Wanted you so bad, for forever now."

God, you can't wait to fuck him.

A grin blooms across your face, one that he can barely process. "Thought you'd never ask baby."

Not before you're pushing him onto his back, onto the soft cushions of the couch, switching your positions before crawling on top of him.

"M' gonna make you see stars baby." You purr, and he can do nothing else but nod dumbly, looking up at you with wide eyes like you're something of a goddess on top of him.

And you will make him see stars. Not yet anyway.

His vision goes hazy though as your hands quickly move to pull his shirt over his head, leaning down to kiss him again.

Deep and hard, filled with promises and care.

You lace your fingers with his against the couch cushions as you kiss down his jaw and down his neck and his chest and-

He gasps when you lick over his nipple, wrapping your lips around one to suck on it lightly.

Your tongue swirls around it, free hand tweaking at the other, making sure not to ignore it.

His cock is so hard, he can feel it throbbing in his sweats. He's sure he's already leaked through his underwear.

He swears he could cum from this alone.

"Don't!" He gasps and you pull away quickly, concern etched across your brow before you see his face clouded with pleasure, mouth hung open to let out breathy moans. "Please don't." He squeezes your hand in his. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

You melt, filled with the overwhelming need to make him cum by just playing with his nipples. How cute he'd look from having his tits played with.

"So sensitive, aren't you?" You coo.

Maybe another day though. Right now, you'll give him what he wants. What he's wanted for 'forever'.

"Shut up," he scowls though it's quickly wiped away when you pinch his nipple one more time, making him gasp.

Finally, you glance down at his sweats, tenting with his boner. "Well someone's excited for me." Seeing you stare at his crotch makes him excited. His already hard cock twitching in his pants. "You're so sensitive for me, aren't you, Min?"

He hates you so much, covering his face with the back of his arm. The fact that you're only telling the truth makes him want to hide his face into your chest again.

But you're too far away, and too focused on watching his boner through his pants, fascinated by how hard you've made him with so little.

"Please," he whispers, but the way you watch him, eyes full of hunger makes him throb even more.

Somehow, he gets a kick out of you just watching him, softly moaning at his eagerness, as he lets out a hushed whisper, "Please. Please y/n, don't tease me like this. I'm already horny." His legs spread open shamelessly.

"Awe, why? Can you not handle it?" You look up at him, at his blushing face and his needy eyes. You wanna kiss him so bad.

And so you do, getting close to his lips, your warm breath tickling him. Your hand runs over his clothed cock, teasing your nails gently over the head of his dick. His eyes widen as you begin to touch him over the fabric.

But your lips quickly silence him as you kiss him again. He moans into it, the feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking him lightly and your lips on his.

Your tongue pushes through his lips as you stroke him a few more times, squeezing him lightly in a way that has his back arching off the bed, pushing into your hand even more.

Panting, you pull back a little. "Such a good boy for me, Minnie." Before you're pinning his hips to the couch and looking at him one more time for conformation.

Then you pull his sweats and boxers down in one swift movement.

And then he does see stars as you slide yourself over his hips, grinding against his bare cock.

He thinks he tells you he loves you, that he worships you, that he adores you more than anyone on this planet. He thinks his hand squeezes yours so hard that you bring it to your lips, kissing his hand and telling him to relax. He thinks you grind against him slow and gingerly, watching to see his reactions.

Like he'd ever tell you to stop.

He'd rather die.

Shoot him in the head if he ever tell you to stop, because it sure as hell isn't him.

Again, he thinks. But he isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything really right now.

His head is a mess of sensations and feelings, whines pouring from his mouth until you kiss him again and again and again.

Whispering that he's a good boy.

He's going to cum, he's going to cum.

Stars explode behind his eyes as they roll back and he isn't even inside of you yet.

And then you stop.

And he thinks tears might be rolling down his cheeks. He needs you, he needs you so fucking bad.

"Please, please, please." He pants, trying to roll his hips up against you, failing to find any contact as you sit back on your haunches, just out of his reach. "Need you," he gasps. "Need you so bad!"

You push sweaty hair out of his face, kissing the back of his hand one more time before you pull away entirely. He whimpers and you coo. "Be patient baby, just need to do something."

He watches blearily as you pull off your shorts and tries to calm his racing heart and heavy breaths as you roll a condom over his length.

"One more minute baby," you hush as you kiss him. "Are you ready?"

He nods desperately, of course he is. He's waiting for this for so long. He's wanted you for so long. He's going to go insane if you don't-

He gasps.

You groan as you slide down his length, slowly burying him inside of you until he bottoms out.

If he though grinding was intense, this was like nothing he could've ever imagined. His mouth gapes open, an endless stream of whiney moans and needy whimpers flooding into the room, feeding into you as you lift up and sink onto his again, groans of your own mixing with his.

He can't think anymore - he doesn't want to. He only wants to fall into the feeling of your walls squeezing around his dick, warm and wet as you ride him and the feeling of your hand once again finding his.

Whispering into his ear that you love him so much as you turn his head into mush

"I…I can-" Minho tries his best to talk, to tell you how good he feels. He really does, but whenever the thought comes to mind, it just gets cut off with the liquid heat coursing through his veins.

By the intense feeling of everything that is you.

He's an idiot for not asking you to fuck him sooner.

"Yeah, baby?" You chuckle breathlessly when he fails to complete his sentence. "You feel yourself inside?" You bring your interlaced fingers to your lower abdomen, "You feel it?"

All he can do is respond with a loud sob as he nods his head to your question, hips bucking up into you, desperate to chase the high quickly approaching ever since you've touched him.

He's not going to last much longer.

"You fit so well inside me," you murmur.

He's going to cum. Of this, he's sure.

"Please!' He hiccups, but he's not sure what he's pleading for. "P-please!" For more? For less? For something - anything to stave off the inevitable, he doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want it to ever end.

You kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. You flutter kisses over his face, so softly compared to how you're fucking him into the couch so roughly.

"I love you, Minho."

"I love you so much!" He pants and squeezes your hand, his other grabbing onto the nape of your neck as he shoves your lips against his.

He's fucking beautiful, you think. Cute and pretty and beautiful, under you, falling apart.

It's the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen, and he's whining your own name against you lips, pleading between sloppy kisses for you to let him cum, to let him cum for you. 

You show your approval with a collision of lips and teeth and tongue as he tips over the edge and you follow suit. He sobs as he cums, shivering violently as waves of pleasure roll over his body, his back lifting into an arch, pushing himself deep into you with a followed whine.

Each moan and whine are muffled by your tongue pushing into his mouth but his hips still grind as he pushes himself into overstimulation, whining until you have mind enough to still his hips.

For a moment, the two of you are silent, chests heaving, both catching your breath as you pull away, looking at him.

"Minho?" His eyes are shut and his cheeks are painted red. "You okay baby?"

He murmurs something you don't catch, but you don't tease as you push the hair out of his face, sweat-soaked and tired, kissing his forehead once.

You make a move to get up off of him but he only wraps his arms around you, holding you in place. "Don't leave," he whispers, looking up at you with tired eyes. "Just stay, please. For a little bit?"

His sleepy eyes make your heart skip a beat. "Who are you and where's my Minho?" You tease softly, but give in nonetheless.

"Fuck you." But his tone is with filled with anything but malice, as he nuzzles into you like a happy cat.

"I just did." You giggle.

"I love you so much." He mutters, kissing your shoulder. "I love you so fucking much."

"And I love you too."

a/n: I did it ^-^, who's proud of me!! also haven't written reader being penetrated in a looooong time, so if it's shit, oh well :p

pls leave feedback, i need motivation to finish my other teaser fics😭

Strawberry Milk

cw: sub!Felix; dom!reader; reader - unspecified pronouns/gender/junk; kink awakening; under-negotiated kink; cock-stepping; dacryphilia; cross-dressing; cock spanking; degradation; humiliation; exhibition; cumplay - cum drinking, snowballing; sexting; public masturbation/hand job; mentions of underwear theft, omorashi/piss kink; pet names - baby, kitty (for Felix); we start out mean but get a lil gentle towards the end, also we nearly veered into genderfucky territory, but i don't think we really went there, do with that what you will

wordcount: 4,807 words

posted for @skzseasons !S Week event!🌸💕

“I think I’m a pervert.”

Hyunjin makes That Face when you finally make your admission. It’s one you’re used to seeing—the expression he has when Jisung spills another iced coffee all over himself or Changbin breaks the knob off his internal volume control for a moment. It’s the face he makes when the world has disappointed, but not surprised him.

You’re a little offended, honestly—you think your degeneracy could merit at least a little shock—but you press on anyways.

“I think—I think I might have done something fucked up. And I think I liked it.” You leave out how you’ve been sitting on this revelation for nearly a week now, lying awake in your bed with a hand shoved down your underwear and the sight of Felix on the ground playing on loop behind your eyelids.

“Hmm. ‘Fucked up’ how?”

“I-I don’t know, I… didn’t mean to? But…” You really hadn’t. High off the rush of winning, you hadn’t wanted to hurt him or scare him, you were just so caught up in having the upper hand. But the sight of him wide-eyed and fearful, tears welling up in his eyes, had made your stomach twist with as much desire as guilt. “…but-I-think-I-like-making-boys-cry?”

“Well. Yeah.”

“What do you mean, ‘yeah’?”

“You watch reality tv, don’t you?”

“What—what does that have to do with anything?”

“You like seeing people suffer. Obviously.”

“Look—schadenfreude isn’t the same as, as sadism, I—” You don’t know how to put words to the memory—Felix laughing and squirming, sprawled out on his ass and elbows in the wet grass beneath you—you wobbly, out of breath and off-balance, as the foot you’d meant to plant on his chest comes to rest square on his crotch.

“Hyunjin, I don’t think you can compare stepping on someone to watching people have meltdowns on TV.”

“Wait, you stepped on someone?”

“No! Maybe?” The recollection of it snares you at the most unexpected moments—sunlight caught on the fat teardrops welling up in his eyes, blush blooming across his freckled cheeks, the heat of his cock growing fat and stiff under your bare foot. “Kinda…”

“Ha. Step on me, mommy?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

And he does, and for a while you think that’s it. Until Hyunjin’s soft voice breaks the silence again.

“It’s not a big deal, you know? Loads of people are into that kind of thing.”

“Whatever…”

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Look, you—you don’t really know what’s going on.

For the past couple weeks, you’ve been trying to keep a respectful distance from Felix—you tell yourself you’re being considerate, giving him space, but you can’t deny the way your stomach twists when he catches your eye. It’s good manners, you tell yourself, not avoidance.

Right now, being ‘respectful’ mostly just means staring at your phone while you pretend you don’t notice Seungmin slowly hiding everyone’s keys and earbuds in the hood of your sweater.

When Jisung drags Felix out of the room, crowing about “winning the bet”, you don’t think much of it. If anything, you relax for the first time since you walked in the door. The tension melts from your shoulders as you burrow deeper into the sofa, huffing out a little laugh as Seungmin tugs his hand away with a yelp.

It’s possibly the most peaceful ten minutes you’ve had, until the door to Jisung’s room slams open again to reveal Felix in a schoolgirl’s uniform.

No one questions why Jisung just has one on hand. It’s not one of those cheap, costume-y ones either, not some shapeless and skimpy thing made from oddly shiny polyester in generic white and blue. You make a note in the back of your mind to look it up later—there are endless things to tease Jisung for, but any addition to your pile of ammunition is welcome.

The funniest part—because this is funny, right?—is how good it looks on Felix. The cream-colored sailor collar makes his tawny skin glow and the dark green pleats of the skirt swish around his lissome legs with every step he takes. As your gaze makes it’s way down, you realize Jisung even completed the look with a tiny little pair of socks—knobby ankles framed by frills of white lace that make your jaw go slack and your brain fizzle with static.

When you drag your eyes back up to his face, Felix’s gaze is locked on you.

Your ribcage feels too tight for your lungs.

You’re not doing this.

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As soon as Minho and Seungmin start squabbling over what movie to put on, you bolt for the kitchen, mumbling some excuse about getting snacks. You don’t bother to flip the light switch, just tuck yourself out of sight and bury your face in your hands.

Deep breaths, in and out.

You’ll go back once the lights are out, you decide. Lights out, movie on, and maybe then you’ll be able to keep yourself from staring like a creep. You drag in one last deep, shuddery breath to settle yourself, tip your head back and groan, before pushing yourself off the wall.

Only to find yourself face to face with Felix.

His expression is open and guileless, eyes intent on you even as he gnaws at his lip and fiddles with his sleeves. And he’s still wearing that goddamn school uniform.

“I thought… you might need some help…?” His voice is low and clear against the din of your friends in the next room, and you swallow hard.

“Sure.” You clear your throat, push past him to rummage through the freezer. “Yeah, sure, whatever…”

For a while, you almost feel normal again—preheating the oven and dumping pizza rolls onto a baking sheet, pawing through the cupboards for chips and microwave popcorn. Felix doesn’t help so much as get underfoot, though, trailing after you so closely you’re surprised he isn’t tripping over your heels. He keeps reaching for things a little too late when you ask for them, just before you reach for them yourself, hands colliding as he mumbles apologies into your ear. The constant proximity, the heat of his body, his breath in your ear, it’s all fraying at your self-control one thread at a time.

When his fingers brush along the back of your hand for the third or fourth time, it snaps, sending you whirling around to back him into the counter.

“What is wrong with you?”

He shrugs listlessly, gaze drifting to the side to avoid yours, and something knots up in your chest. You’re winding a hand in his hair before you even realize, dragging his eyes back to meet your own. He’s biting his lip again, and it makes you want to replace his teeth with your own, makes you want to make him cry again.

There’s an infuriatingly calm, almost expectant look in his eyes, and you realize… Felix followed you in here.

When you drag him in for a kiss, it’s less like two puzzle pieces slotting together and more like a car crash—messy and crude, open-mouthed and hungry as you push your tongue into his mouth, curl it against the roof and swallow down his gasping little whines. You withdraw just long enough for him to keen like a little animal, his breath hot against your lips, and you reward him by digging your teeth into his lower lip and snaking a hand up his skirt.

Even through the soft cotton of his boxers, he’s hot in your hand, cock already stiffening as you cup and squeeze it experimentally. It’s more an inspection than it is an attempt at real stimulation, but his hips jerk under the attention anyways.

“You’re really getting hard from being pushed around, huh?”

His face scrunches up at your words, but he nods frantically. Something feral and mean inside of you rears up at the sight of him, lips shiny with your spit and twisted in a grimace, eyes already glossy with tears.

“Lift up your skirt.” The speed with which he follows your instruction goes to your head like champagne on an empty stomach, bright and bubbly and warm.

Felix makes such a depraved little picture for you—hair mussed, face flushed under the constellations of his freckles, hands trembling just a little as he lifts his little schoolgirl skirt up to show off the outline of his cock. It’s straining against his plain grey boxer-briefs, a damp spot slowly darkening along the front—all at once, you think of working him up and making him cum all over himself like a pervert, of making him wet himself like a desperate little girl, of watching it run down his slim thighs onto the floor and pushing his face down to lick his own mess off the cold tile like a dog.

“Did you like it, when I stepped on your little cock?” You squeeze hard, watch the way his lips part with a tiny little gasp, then pull your hand away. “Well?”

He nods, brow furrowed, but that’s not enough—you bring your hand down against his cock, quick and sharp. A ragged gasp tears it’s way out of his throat, his hips jerking under the punishment.

“Use your words, baby.” You spank him harder, a second, then a third time, laughing with disbelief at the way his cock twitches under your palm, at the way his head tips back and his eyes flutter shut. Tears glisten along his lashes, salty on your lips when you lean in to brush a kiss against them.

“I-I did, I liked it, I… I…” Words failing him, he drops down to his knees, nuzzling into your thigh as he fumbles with the waistband of your shorts. For just a moment, the thought of fucking Felix’s face with all your friends just one room over sends wild thrill skittering up your spine, has you nearly ready to let him do as he pleases.

Instead, you slap his hands away and grab him by the hair again to drag him upright, his hands scrambling to grab onto your sweater as he half-climbs up your body.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Did I tell you that you could touch me?”

“N-no…”

“You can touch me when you’ve earned it, do you understand?”

He nods, and you tighten your grip, pulling a whine from him as the motion tugs at his scalp.

“I’m going to give you a chance to earn it. And to calm down, because,” you draw back to look him up and down with an arched brow. “I’m sure you don’t want to walk out in front of everyone looking like a desperate little slut, do you?”

“No—no, please…” He shakes his head, and you loosen your grip on his hair with a smile.

Abandoning him to make your way to the fridge, you rummage around with a gentle hum, taking your time as you listen to him rock nervously back and forth against the counter. You resurface with a carton of milk in one hand and a bottle of syrup in the other, return to set them on the counter on either side of Felix, trapping him in your arms at the same time.

“You’re going to make strawberry milk for everyone. That is why you’re taking so long. But first…” You reach past him into the cupboard, pull out a glass and a straw twisted into the shape of a heart and filled with silver glitter and hold them up with a wry smirk. “…you’re going to jerk your little cock off into your cup and then fill it up the rest of the way with milk. When you’re done making enough for everyone else, you’re going to bring them all out to us, and you’re going to drink yours in front of everyone. Understand?”

He nods again, before he catches himself—“yes! Yes, m—yes, I understand— ”

“Good.” You file away the little stumble in his words for later, and then a wicked thought occurs to you. “Hm. Before you finish your glass, you’re going to do one more thing—you’re going to offer me a sip, so I know you made it right.”

It takes a moment, but you watch as Felix’s eyes go wide, lips parting, as your last order slowly settles in. Not even the shriek of the stove timer cuts through his hazy expression, and once you’re done pulling out the pizza rolls and shutting off the oven, you give in to the urge to drop a quick, smacking kiss onto his worried little mouth before you leave him.

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When Felix pops back out of the kitchen, only one glass in hand, a part of you wilts a little in disappointment—only to perk up like a seedling in the rain when you realize he’s making his way toward you, sparkly little straw twirling between his fingertips.

“Try it?” There’s a sly little smile curling up the corners of his mouth as he holds the drink out; it makes you want to bend him over your knee to spank it off his face, almost as much as you want to thread your fingers through his hair and drag him in for a kiss.

You let him lift the cup to your face, angle the straw to your lips himself, and you suck. Syrupy strawberry and bitter cum bloom across your tongue, so cloying and filthy it makes your heart nearly skip a beat, sends a rush of heat straight between your legs. Looking up at him through your lashes, you barely notice as Jisung whines for a taste and Felix tells him snottily that he can wait with everyone else.

“How is it?” Felix’s eyes are intent on yours, and you can’t hold back—don’t want to hold back—the stupid grin that paints itself across your face.

You catch his wrist in your grip carefully, lean in to steal another sip.

“It’s perfect.”

“This is nepotism,” Jisung declares indignantly, and you laugh as Felix skips back to the kitchen.

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Even with the lights off, you can tell how restless Felix is. He’s always a little fidgety, a squirmy, squeaky little duck of a boy, but he’s in rare form tonight—you can see him twirling his straw and wiggling into the couch cushions even as you keep your eyes trained on the movie. When Minho smacks his knee, scolds him for thumping his ankle against the sofa, you have to struggle to tamp down your smile. No one’s really noticed, you’re sure, but it’s so obvious—he’s a mess, and it’s all for you.

A spark of inspiration hits, and you slide your phone out of your pocket to tap out a quick message.

You: are you enjoying your drink?

You can tell the moment he gets your message, eyes widening as he hops up in his seat. He fumbles at his pocket, glass thumping down hard on the side table as he drags his phone out, and when his eyes dart up from your message to meet your own, you don’t shy away. It’s only when he shrinks down, curling in on himself as he clutches his phone like a lifeline, that you let your focus drop back down to your own.

It’s hard not to hold your breath as you wait for the buzz of your phone, hard not to immediately pop it open when the notification pops up on your screen. Just because he’s the most interesting part of your night—of your month, honestly—doesn’t mean you need to act so eager for him.

felix🐣: i wish it tasted like you 🥺

It would be annoying, the way six words and a stupid emoji knock the breath of your lungs, but you’re too preoccupied with the image of him on his knees, tongue out and eyes hazy and hungry for you, too preoccupied with nearly regretting your choices back in the kitchen.

You squeeze your thighs together and draw in an unsteady breath. You don’t look up at Felix.

You: you don’t even know what i taste like, tho

You: or do you?

You: have you been bad, kitty? have you been pawing through my things, sniffing at my underwear like a filthy little animal?

Maybe you’re imagining the way his hands tremble, as you watch him from the corner of your eye, but you’re sure you aren’t imagining the way the whites of his eyes catch the light as they widen, or the bob of his throat as he swallows.

felix🐣: i haven’t

You cock your head to the side as you look down at your phone, tap your glass to your lip thoughtfully—putting on a mean little show of doubt for him.

It’s only seconds before your phone is buzzing again.

felix🐣: really i promise i haven’t

felix🐣: really really really reall

felix🐣: :((

There’s something in his frantic denial that tastes like blood in the water to you, your typing barely keeping up with your thoughts as you put your autocorrect to the test.

You: i bet you’ve thought about it at least

You: don’t lie to me, kitty

You: have you?

As you tuck your phone back into your lap, anticipation thrums through your veins, so heavy it feels like it could push you right out of your own body. Around you, your friends laugh at some joke you missed, and you feel at once claustrophobic and terrifyingly adrift from the world.

Then your palm is tingling with the vibration of a new message, and your whole world narrows down to one point of focus.

felix🐣: maybe

felix🐣: yes

felix🐣: yes yes yes im sorry

felix🐣: pls don’t be mad :(

felix🐣: im sorry im gross

When you look up, Felix is avoiding your gaze, face tucked into his knees as he keeps his gaze trained blankly on the movie. The sight squeezes at your heart, makes you want pet his hair and kiss his freckles one by one.

You: it’s okay

You: i don’t care as long as you’re honest

You: tell me how gross you can be, baby

For a long while, there’s nothing. Disappointment sets in—you were trying to be gentle, but did you push him too hard? Was this what was too much? The high of completely unsupported confidence fades, and you’re just about ready to start doubting everything about the night…

Then your phone buzzes. And buzzes. And keeps on buzzing.

felix🐣: i wanna sniffyourunderwear

felix🐣: wanna know what it smells like after it’s been pressed up against you all day

felix🐣: wanna taste it wanna lick your cum off it want you to gag me with it please

felix🐣: i wanna jerk off with them get them all messy

felix🐣: want you to catch me and yell at me and

felix🐣: rub my face in my own mess and tell me ive been bad

felix🐣: sometimes i even think about you making me wear them while you spank me

felix🐣: making me spread my legs for you and

felix🐣: and calling me stupid and useless and slutty and

felix🐣: and making me do othergrossstuffforyou

You read Felix’s messages, and then you reread them at least three more times, thoughts a riot of impatience and want. All this time you’ve spent knotting yourself up with guilt and shame, when what he wants is for you to be even crueler to him, when it seems he’s been wanting this for longer than you could have imagined. You’re going to ruin him.

(You’re going to have to keep ‘other gross stuff’ in mind while you do it, too.)

When you finally look up, he’s curled as small as he can make himself, lanky limbs tucked in and eyes scrunched shut as if he’s bracing for something. You’ve never seen a sight that’s so pitiful, and it tempers the wild, mean thing he’s set loose in you, just a little.

You: oh, kitty

You: you’ve been so good for me. you’re gonna get everything you want, i promise.

You: <3

With that last message, you slide your phone back into your pocket and settle in to pretend to pay attention to the movie. And if the fists curled into your hoodie don’t unclench for the next hour, no one notices.

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After the movie, there’s a wave of drowsy murmurs as the lights flip on and your pack starts settling on what’s happening next. Pretty much everyone is going to crash right here, and most nights you would as well, but… you think that tonight, you’d rather end up in your own bed. And that you’d prefer to not end up there alone.

You stand up to stretch, satisfaction coiling low in your belly when you catch sight of Felix straightening up at your movement.

“I think I’m gonna walk home.” Your voice is just loud enough to carry across the room, a little unsteady, but that’s fine considering half your friends are still blinking the sleep from their eyes. “The weather’s been nice lately, there’s been shooting stars all week.”

“It’s too late to go out alone.” Of course, Chan objects. You’d almost feel guilty, you know he worries—but you have plans for the night, and not even your resident Dad Friend is gonna throw a wrench in them now.

“I’ll walk, too!” It’s an admirable show of restraint, that you’ve managed not to look at Felix until he’s already hopped out of his seat, volunteering himself as tribute.

“There! I won’t be alone!” You flash Chan a shit-eating grin as you hook your arm through Felix’s, dragging him towards the door before your second favorite Australian has a chance to argue. “We’ll be by with donuts in the morning, yeah?”

Behind you, you just barely catch Changbin’s voice, “wait, is Felix still wearing—”

Then the door shuts behind you, and the two of you are alone, set loose into the night.

It really is a gorgeous evening, cool and breezy, with only the faintest promise of summer thickening the air. Felix’s hand is a welcome warmth when you catch it in your own, swinging it as he matches his pace to yours. You pretend not to notice the way he rubs circles into the back of your hand with his thumb, just like you pretend that you aren’t grinning like an idiot.

There’s a calm that settles over you, with the city around you so still and hushed, with Felix’s shoulder nudging into yours as your footsteps echo along the street. It feels like no one exists but the two of you, like you have all the time in the world.

The tension that had you all twisted up, like a rope swing ready to spin out of control, eases into something lazy, almost leisurely. You have the whole night ahead of you, and you intend to take advantage of that. When you come up to a bus stop, you lean into his side to steer him into the flickering light. He’s meek as a kitten, letting you gently crowd him into the corner with no question.

“Hey.” You know you still have that goofy grin on your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Hey.” It's not as embarrassing, you figure, when the look on Felix's face is just as dumb as yours.

“Do something for me, baby?”

“Anything.” His answer is immediate, breathless, and it’s as sweet as the fake strawberry that’s still lingering on your tongue.

“Get your cock out for me.”

There’s only a moment’s hesitation as his eyes flick past your shoulders, then Felix is hiking his skirt up and tugging the front of his boxers down to show himself off for you—he’s still soft, his cock looking so small and chubby and sweet in his hand, little pink head peeking out from his golden brown foreskin. He can’t look you in the eyes, shrinking in on himself even as the cock in his hand stiffens under your gaze.

“Look at me…” Your voice is low and lilting as you lean in, drunk on the cool spring air and the power of making someone commit public indecency with just a few words. When he obeys, you continue: “You were such a good kitty tonight. I have something for you.”

“You do?”

“Mhmm. Hold out your hand for me.”

Felix lifts a shaky hand, palm up, and you pull your own out of your pocket to carefully tuck your underwear into it. The absolute absence of comprehension in his expression is so precious, you drag him down for a kiss, soft and warm as you swallow down his breath, nip at his lower lip just before you pull away.

“Wha… How? When?” You take his hand to wrap it around his cock, which seems to have caught up to things much faster than his brain, the solid heat of it through your underwear a wanton contrast to the dreamy urgency in his voice.

“I went to the bathroom, before the movie ended.” Slowly, you guide his hand in slow, measured strokes, watching the way his eyes flutter shut and he bites his lip to try and fail to hold back a groan. With your other hand, you cup his balls, squeezing and rolling them gently.

Under the flickering fluorescent of the bus stop, the delicate angles of his face look nearly too perfect to be real—with his skirt bunched up around his hips and his hair a tousled halo against the grimy plexiglass, you could almost believe it was an angel you were ravishing.

Eyes focused on his expression, you squeeze his balls a little tighter, curl your fingers to stroke behind them and grin like a shark when the motion has Felix dropping his mouth open to let loose a shameless moan. Carefully, you feel around until you find the spot that drags a high-pitched whine out of him, and massage it mercilessly. His breathing quickens, chest heaving under his rumpled sailor collar, and you speed up your strokes to match it.

When you finally feel his balls tighten in your palm, you angle his twitching cock to make sure he cums all over your hand. His release comes in weak, uneven spurts, but it drags on longer than you expected, runs down your skin like warm, sticky ribbons of cream as you milk him dry. You don’t let him go until you’re sure he has nothing left in him, thighs trembling around your wrist and hands pawing desperately at your shoulders.

Being careful not to let any go to waste, you lift your hand up—your kitten knows what you want before you even say a word, meeting you halfway with his tongue already out.

“Don’t swallow yet,” you warn him, and Felix hums against your skin in acknowledgment. His tongue is hot and insistent as he licks your skin clean, laps his own cum out of your palm, cheeks hollowing as he takes your fingers into the heat of his mouth one by one to suck them clean.

“Open up, baby, let me see.”

Rosy lips stretch wide for your viewing pleasure, to show you pearly white cum pooled on his pink tongue. You lean in to dip your tongue into his waiting mouth, his release briny and bittersweet as you finally get to taste it undiluted. Lips working hungrily against his, you coax his tongue into your own mouth, swallow down his cum and suck at the hot muscle until he’s limp and shivering against you.

When you’re finally satisfied that you’ve had every last drop of him, you pull away and tug him into your arms, petting his hair and cooing sweet nonsense into his ear until his shivering slows and he’s nuzzling sleepily into your neck. You go about setting him to rights, tucking his limp cock back into his boxers and straightening out his skirt, before uncurling his fingers to take your cum-stained underwear back.

A quick glance around to make sure the coast is clear, and you’re shimmying out of your shorts to drag your cum-stained underwear back on. They’re sticky and warm between your thighs, and you cringe at the thought of doing your next load of laundry, but it’s worth it for the dazed, slack-jawed look you get from Felix as you tug your shorts back on.

He twines the drawstring of your shorts around a finger, eyes boring holes into the ground, and it takes you a moment to realize he’s pouting.

“I wanna… I wanna make you cum, too…” His voice is low and even, but undeniably sulky, and a sudden rush of affection courses through you as you grab him by the face to force him to look you in the eye.

“Just wait, kitty. We’ll be home soon.” You plant a kiss on the tip of his nose, then grab a sticky hand to drag him back out into the night. “I’m not done with you just yet.”

LAUNDRY DAY

Felix x Fdom!reader x Han | header:@/s-trixy

CONTENTS — smut/mdni, poly relationship, sub!jisung, sub!felix, fdom!reader, mommy kink, degradation, praise, slapping, denial, crying, jisung taking full advantage of a vibrating washing machine…

WORD COUNT — 2.5k

© to irockgyu. no translations/reposts etc.

Keep reading

Kinktober 2024?

Hella early, but I'm already thinking about participating for the first time ever.

Probably, I'll write about SUB!SKZ/ATZ/TXT/ENHA I'm already planning the "chapters" titles JDHBDKD

Please I need requests, drabbles, thoughts, hard thoughts/hours, I NEED TO WRITE PLEASE, from fluff to smut, but pLEASE I NEED TO WRITE (reader inserted or Shipp). Soon enough I will be able to do a masterlist

• skz

• atz

• txt

• enha

Welcome, traveler!

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Temporary Masterlist; REQUESTS OPEN

Take it, baby: Sub!Soobin (TXT) x Afab!reader (use of strap, implied punishment, bit of noona kink)

Teacher's pet: Teacher!Sunghoon x Student!Jake (Enhypen) (teacher dom/student sub dynamics, age gap, punishment, spanking - impact play)

Animal impulses: Bratty pet!Beomgyu (TXT) x GN!Master/Tamer reader (pet play (bear), use of “it” instead of “he/him” sometimes, dumbification with bits of degradation, cursing, fingering, aftercare, kinda fluff at the very end)

Sleepless: Bratty!Beomgyu (TXT) x FemDom!Reader (overstimulation, degradation, pet names, mommy kink, toys (bullet and wand vibrator), a single face slap, hairpulling, no piv sex)

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To Know:

Mostly nsfw posts with sub!idol

I DO NOT WRITE: incest, rape (not even if it's a kink), religious kink (don't feel like it)

Feel free to send the amount of requests you want!

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About Me:

22y

INTP

She/her

Brazilian

You can call me Gabi :D

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Groups i can write for and my biases (reader insert, shipps, thoughts, etc):

Ateez: Yeosang and Hongjoong

Stray Kids: Changbin and Minho

Enhypen: Jake and Sunoo

TXT: Soobin and Beomgyu

Seventeen: S.Coups, Jun and Seungkwan

(G)I-dle: Yuqi and Shuhua

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See you soon, traveler dear!

⛓️˚₊‧⁺⋆♱ ruin me - part II lee know x f!reader

There are no words in any language he speaks that could explain what he’s feeling, so instead he pulls you into a kiss, one that wipes his brain free of anything except an almost primal need, and an even more primal sense of pride that he is able to kiss you like this now. Uninhibited. Uncoordinated. Needy. Filthy. Tongues tangling until there’s spit dripping out of the corner of his mouth. The whimper you press into his mouth tells a story of a desperation he never in his wildest dreams thought you could feel about him. He could sob. Maybe is about to, when you rip yourself away, push yourself up with a hand next to his head, and then, suddenly, curl your other hand around his neck and Minho roars, stars exploding in his vision from the intensity with which his eyes roll, his body locks up. OR minho's obsessed with you. turns out, you're obsessed with him, too. and you match his freak better than he could've ever anticipated.

word count: 10.2k words

author's note: phew part 2!!! this got ambitious, lads!! the tenderest, and horniest tenderhorny bdsm shit you will ever read. This one’s real dirty, so please heed the warnings! and while the kink is definitely under negotiated in this fic, I tried to create a realistic portrayal of how consent can look, and how the energy can ebb and flow, how you can go in and out of a scene. be safe everyone!! but also enjoy the filth. Not enough perv!minho out there. he’s not pathetic enough, not down bad enough, in most x reader fics. I have been wanting to write him like this for a looooong time, so really, why am I surprised it got this long

warnings: they match each other’s freak, in a weird fucking way; he’s obsessed with pudge and pubic hair (like a man should be); undernegotiated kink, please don’t engage in this kind of stuff without extensive communication!; very explicit bdsm things: panty stealing, choking and breathplay, on oneself (DON'T!!!) and on someone else, painplay, ball slapping, degradation, praise, spit, dacryphilia; breeding; implied butt stuff (m receiving)

link to part 1

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

A wet dream. His best, filthiest, dirtiest, most magnificent dreams and then some, that’s what it feels like when you push him onto the bed, curl two fingers into the chain of his necklace, your necklace, and slot your lips over his in a hot, searing kiss.

It’s everything. You’re everything. Everything he has ever wanted. Needed. Desired, loved more than anything. Your lips are soft, your spit sweet, the way you move against him controlled but demanding in a way that makes him want to just open his mouth and let you have your way with him. When you nip at his bottom lip, jolts of electricity shoot between his legs and his cock is throbs. He’s so, so close despite being entirely untouched.

And God, every inch of you he can get his hands on – it’s all so fucking perfect that he struggles to make sense of it. Every new inch of you that his hands touch is so new and so perfect – he wants to try and catalogue it all, store it away in his head for a rainy day, when he touches himself, when he’s three fingers deep and sobbing into his sheets. Just in case this is a dream.

Your tongue licks over his bottom teeth and Minho moans. It’s not a dream.

You’d pushed him against the wall as soon as the door closed behind you, one hand fisted into the collar of his shirt, and his breath had caught, his whole body taut like a bowstring – but you didn’t kiss him. You were trembling, breathing heavily, mirroring the desperate shake in Minho’s impossibly tight body, but you didn’t kiss him, only let your forehead fall against his and mumbled out a we need to talk about this first before dragging him to his room.

And talk you did. Standing in front of him, flushed and gorgeous, and just a little self-conscious. That alone nearly sent Minho to his knees in front of you. You’re my best friend. I’ve wanted this for a long time. If we do this, I can’t just be your friend. I want us to be more. The words had just tumbled out of your rose petal lips as if saying them was easy, as if they weren’t words Minho had never in his wildest dreams thought he’d get to hear from you. He’d breathed out your name, taken a step closer, fingers itching to touch, to feel, to finally sink his teeth into what he never thought could be his, but you’d stopped him, a steady palm in the middle of his chest, eyes pits of a darkness so deep it made the hairs on Minho’s neck prick up. Traffic light. Red for stop, yellow for slow down or try something else, green for good. Got it? Minho, nodding blindly, excitement shivering through his veins, his cock already filling out in anticipation. You blinked at him, something even darker running through your eyes like molten glass. Don’t look at me like that. Minho, sucking in a breath. Like what? Barely audible. Breathed out a laugh that wasn’t one.

Like you want me to ruin you.

This time, Minho’s legs did buckle, stumbling backwards, until his ass hit his mattress. A desperate breath, a pleading, something in his voice he’s never heard before. You, stalking towards him, one step at a time, a look in his eyes like you were ready to tear him to pieces. His wildest, dirtiest dreams, coming true.

Ruin me, fuck, please, ruin me.

You straddled him, turning his brain into goo with your sudden proximity, rattling off a laundry list of dirty things you wanted to do to him, waiting for a nod or a shake of his head – the latter of which he had previous few to give you. Most everything you mentioned coming straight from his filthiest dreams. It was a miracle he could listen at all, your breath fanning over his face sweet like steamed red bean buns, the plush of your ass on his thighs, the heat of your body slowly settling into his until he felt like he no longer existed as himself, like he was only a vessel for you to do with as you pleased. At the end, you only looked at him for a long moment.

We’ll talk more about this later, but were you honest with me? Are those your only hard no’s?

The words reached him through a fog, through a dense, all-consuming desire to kiss you. He nodded again, blearily, blinked up at you, met your eyes; dark, predatory, yet oddly loving. He shivered, a full-body thing that you watched impassively, your expression giving nothing away. Then you leaned in. Whispered the words that made Minho whimper pathetically before your lips met his and his entire body exploded into fireworks.

God, you’re perfect.

Minho has never believed in God, but he thinks kissing you is the closest thing he’ll ever experience to heaven.

The weight, the heat of your body – he has imagined it so many times, but it’s so much better when it’s really you. When it’s the plush of your thighs caging his hips against the mattress. The drag of your chest against his as you lick into his mouth.

Your fingers find his jaw, press into the sides until his mouth falls slack with an embarrassing sound, somewhere between a moan and a gurgle, before you lick into his mouth. The smell of you, your shampoo, your perfume, the smell he has sucked out of so many of his sweaters, is all around him, threatens to overwhelm him. He wonders if his sheets will smell like you when you’re done. He might have to sleep on the couch. He might not be able to handle it.

Your hand is still on his jaw, fingers digging into the hinge of it, when you pull back, blink your eyes open, stare at him. Pinned to the bed, under the delicious weight of your body, he lets you stare your fill.

“You never said …” you suddenly murmur, and Minho blinks. Raises his eyebrows in question. “When I said I didn’t want this to be a one-time thing. That I wanted to be more. You never said if you wanted it, too.”

Minho feels his heart plummet. Oh God, how could he not have … how could he …

He tries to say something, but because of your hand on his jaw, all he can do is gurgle. So he settles for nodding, his eyes wide, blinking rapidly.

You watch him struggle, and smile. It’s disorientingly soft for how harsh your grip on his jaw still is, nails digging into his skin and all.

“Shh, it’s okay, bunny,” you mumble, and Minho squirms. His cock throbs at the nickname. “We can talk later, I just needed to know you want me the way I want you. For good. Forever.”

Minho swears his heart gives out at the words. He strains, tries to get the words out, pleads with you with his eyes, and you seem to understand.

“Okay, good,” you whisper, and then you pucker your lips – and spit right into his mouth.

Minho’s eyes roll into the back of his head. You let go of his jaw and his mouth snaps closed immediately, swallows your honey sweet spit before the words tumble out like they were just waiting to be freed.

“Forever. Want you forever. Have wanted you. Always. I lo … I love you. I love you. Please.”

Too much? Too soon? It barely scratches the surface of how he feels for you. Those words seem paltry compared to what you do to him. But he can’t think when you’re so close, when you just kissed him for the first time, when he hasn’t even gotten to kiss you for a second time yet.

Your eyes crinkle at the edges, and you smile, so wide your cheeks bunch up and your nose scrunches adorably and Minho makes a helpless noise in the back of his throat.

You dip down, rub the tip of your nose against his, giggling when he needily tries to push up, tries to mush his lips onto yours again.

“Oh, Minho,” you sigh, and it’s better than every moan of his name he has ever picked out of your daily interactions and manipulated until they fit into his fantasies.

You wait until he meets your eyes, a little cross-eyed from how close you are, before you whisper a soft “I love you, too” and lean in.

This kiss is raw. Softer, slower, but so full of feeling – and maybe he was worried that his sentimentality ruined the moment, but that fear is assuaged by the sheer desperation with which you kiss him, the little sigh that you breathe into his mouth that makes a shiver run down his spine.

“Where are they?” you mumble into his lips without pulling back, and Minho doesn’t have to ask what you mean.

Blindly, he shoves his hand under his pillow and pulls them out. Black lace, crushed and crumpled and humiliatingly obviously spit stained. He’d sucked on the seat of them until he was choking on his saliva just this morning, his mind swimming with the knowledge that you knew, that you would come over later that day ‘to talk’ – the mind-blowing possibility that you might feel the same.

You pull back, and he watches you blink at them, the fingers of the hand resting on his chest curling into his sensitive chest, making the sensitive nerve endings there explode into an exquisite pleasure-pain. You breathe out a curse, dip down to kiss him again, your whole chest flush with his, your weight on his chest and your lips on his making it hard to breathe, but all it does is make his cock throb harder. He might come at this rate, only from your lips on his and the fact that you’re the one robbing him off his breath instead of his own hand.

You pull back until your lips are merely brushing his, your eyes still closed, as your hand slides up the arm, to the hand that he’s clutching the panties in. You stop at the wrist, circle your fingers around it and squeeze. Minho’s breath catches in his throat.

“I came in them,” you mutter, lowly, and Minho’s sanity slips. “I humped my pillow, thinking of you.”

This can’t be real. This can’t be real. He must be dreaming. This cannot be real. He lets out a guttural, feral moan.

“I had come up with the plan then, already. I knew I was going to leave them there, hoping you would pick them up. I … I came so hard, Minho,” you shiver out the last words and Minho’s arms finally move from where they were uselessly resting against the sheets, wind around your body to pull you against him, trying to feel more of you, his hips grinding up into your hip helplessly. “I came so hard thinking of you taking them.”

Minho can’t help himself. There are no words in any language he speaks that could explain what he’s feeling, so instead he pulls you into a kiss, one that wipes his brain free of anything except an almost primal need, and an even more primal sense of pride that he is able to kiss you like this now. Uninhibited. Uncoordinated. Needy. Filthy. Tongues tangling until there’s spit dripping out of the corner of his mouth. The whimper you press into his mouth tells a story of a desperation he never in his wildest dreams thought you could feel about him.

He could sob. Maybe is about to, when you rip yourself away, push yourself up with a hand next to his head, and then, suddenly, curl your other hand around his neck and Minho roars, stars exploding in his vision from the intensity with which his eyes roll, his body locks up. He pulls your hips flush with his cock, at the same time as he presses his hips up so hard it almost hurts. He’s throbbing, one second away from coming into his pants. You tighten your fingers. Minho gurgles out another moan. This is everything he has ever wanted.

“I want you so bad. My filthy, pervy, best friend.”

His vision speckles, his heart thumps in his chest. His breath comes out in short bursts.

“Don’t you think I saw you staring? Don’t you think …”

You let go of his neck and oxygen rushes into Minho’s lungs so fast he has to screw his eyes shut so he doesn’t pass out. You lift yourself off him, and he nearly sobs at the loss of warmth. He doesn’t need to look down to know there’s a wet spot on his sweats. He hears you laugh, hears the note of condescension in it, and his cock twitches in his pants. Clearly, you see because you laugh again. He’s so overwhelmed, he throws his arm over his face and whimpers pathetically.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” you snarl, and Minho shivers with something that is almost fear, but he doesn’t dare remove his arm from his face. “Do you think I can’t see it …,” you trail off dangerously.

And then, so quick he can’t even wrap his head around it, mean little fingers curl into the waistband of his sweats and his boxers and rip both down his legs in one fell swoop. Minho gasps, arm flying off his face and back flying off the bed, his hard, aching cock slapping heavily against his abdomen. When his eyes fall on you, you’re staring straight at it.

“Do you think I can’t see your cock bulging in your pants when you get hard?”

You meet his eyes and Minho blinks, nods, then shakes his head. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to figure out if that was really a question, if you wanted an answer, what answer you wanted.

You smile at him, almost eerily, before you drop your eyes back down to his cock and go back to staring.

“So big,” you hum, and Minho shivers. His cock twitches. “So pretty, too. I wonder if you even know what to do with it.”

Minho’s nails dig into the sheets so hard he wonders if they will tear. He needs you to touch him. He needs it more than he needs air. But you won’t, you just keep staring.

“P-please,” he croaks out, and your head snaps up to him, eyes filled with faux surprise.

“Please what, you nasty little thing? Aren’t you literally currently getting off on me staring at that useless dick of yours?”

Minho whimpers, and he swears he feels tears prick at his eyes. He swallows them down.

“T-touch …,” he chokes on a whimper.

You breathe out a laugh, and Minho thinks he might actually cry.

“Not so fast. Need to see what I’m dealing with here, first. On your hands and knees, now.”

Minho’s body computes the order before his brain does, already scrambling up before his thoughts catch up. When they do, he hesitates. Looks from you to the bed, and back. You seem to understand. You smile.

“Such a good boy,” you purr, and he sinks his nails into his thighs. “Face towards the pillows.”

Oh, God.. He’s imagined this. So many times.

He turns, plants his shaking hands on the mattress. He’s naked from the waist down, except for his socks. He’s still wearing his t-shirt. And the necklace, of course. His ass is still planted on his heels, too shy to lift it, though he knows you want him to. Can feel it. But a part of him wants you to ask.

He’s shaking.

You tsk behind him.

“Come on, bunny. You know what I want. Get your pretty little ass up. Show me.”

Minho does as he’s told. Puts more weight on his trembling arms. Props himself up.

The cool air against his ass, against his hole, is maddening. He wonders if you like what you see. Wonders when he last shaved. It's not like he's getting any. The last time he tried sleeping with someone, he couldn't even get it up. Came in three minutes when he got home and touched himself to the thought of you, though.

He follows blindly when he feels your fingers guiding his legs closer together, barely registers the brush of your touch against his cock before it’s gone again, his balls tucked behind his legs, his shaft resting along the backs of his thighs. He’s so exposed.

You hum appreciatively. One warm palm finds his ass cheek, caresses, kneads the flesh, the other smoothes over his calf, up and up over his thighs, until it’s resting on his hips. It feels like you touch him like that for forever, and he gets so lost in the sensations that he almost screams when a dry finger brushes against his hole.

You shush him soothingly and somehow, it does calm him. His breath is already coming in erratic bursts. He feels his cock twitch against his thighs. You probably see it. You probably see everything. The thought makes a few droplets of precum dribble from his tip. He’s mortified. It only makes him harder.

“Do you like your little hole played with, bunny?” you ask, sweetly, and he doesn’t even pretend to hesitate. He nods frantically. You hum like you’re stowing away the knowledge for another day.

“We’ll try that another time, won’t we? Because only good bunnies get their hole played with. And you’ve been bad, haven’t you?”

The line should be cringey, but your voice is so soft, almost dreamy, and it works. He shakes his head. Then nods. Then stops in despair.

You laugh. He blushes crimson, knows you can see it on the tips of his ears.

You don’t respond, instead you’re quiet and then-

Minho screams when your palm makes sharp contact with his balls. The pain zaps through his oversensitive body and then settles deep in his abdomen, where it turns into liquid hot arousal. His arms give out and he faceplants into his pillows.

“Been staring at me for so long. Staring at me and then getting hard. With that big cock of yours bulging through your pants.”

You slap his balls again and this time he expects it, doesn’t scream, only yelps, screw his fingers into the sheets. Another dribble of precum drips from his tip. It hits his calves. God, he has never been this wet before.

“How long have you been touching yourself to the thought of me?”

Minho barely computes the question. His whole body is trembling, waiting for the next slap, his mind bleary and foggy.

Your palm comes down on his thigh, then his ass, and then his balls, one after another, so fast he barely has time to catch his breath. This time, he moans.

“Answer me, Minho.”

The arousal in his guts pulls tighter at the way you say his name.

Stern, a little mean. Dimly, he realises he will come soon.

You say his name again, warningly, and he blinks the fog from his eyes enough to answer.

“Always,” he gasps out, screw his eyes shut in humiliation, “since we met. Always thought you were the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. Couldn’t stop thinking about you …”

He cuts himself off with a high, keening moan, when he feels soft fingers run over his balls, massage the soft skin. You’re touching him. You’re touching him.

“Go on,” you mutter, and he does. He would do anything you ask.

“Couldn’t … couldn’t stop thinking about you. W-wanted you, yes, to touch you but also … so much … ah … more. I always loved you, I promise, I promise.”

He nearly sobs. It feels insane to finally say all of this out loud. To say it to you.

You hum, a soft, appreciative thing. It makes his heart do somersaults in his chest.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

The slap catches him off guard this time, and he yelps, his back arching, the arousal pulling hotter.

“‘M so-sorry …” he howls, “I didn’t think … never thought you … you could want me like that … you were too … perfect …”

“So instead you touched your cock to fantasies of me spanking you? Being mean to you?”

Minho nods, and the next spank sends a full-body spasm through him. There’s a violent heat, building in the very core of his body, and his legs start trembling.

“Stupid boy,” you mutter, and the softness in your voice, laced in with the annoyance, the humiliation pulsing behind his eyes, and the next slap, hitting him just right–

Dull pleasure explodes through his body, and he comes with a tiny, choked up moan, back arching, chest and face pressed into his sheets, his cock spurting his load down the back of his thighs, hot and sticky.

The orgasm is astringent, thin and sharp, like the pain still lingering from your slap, and he sobs into the quiet of the room. You’re frozen behind him, probably in shock. Staring at the mess he made of himself. He fists his hand into the pillow next to his head. Tries to hold on. Feels himself start to spiral.

Suddenly, you get up, your weight lifting off the mattress, the sound of your socked feet leaving the room, and his usual post orgasm shame slams into him like a freight train. He doesn’t even move, stays with his face buried in the drool-stained pillow, his ass in the air, cum drying on the back of his thighs. The pillow feels like it’s getting wetter, and it’s only then that he realises that he’s crying. Not a full on sob, but a steady sniffle, dripping into the cotton until he can feel it wet his skin.

He doesn’t hear you come back into the room, nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a warm, wet washcloth run over the backs of his thighs. The touch is barely there, almost utilitarian, if it wasn’t for the gentleness with which you touch him, hold him in place, caress over the skin. It’s so soothing. When you ghost the towel over the sensitive underside of his cock, he sniffles into the pillows. You make a soft sound under your breath, and the next thing he knows, he’s slowly being guided onto his side by your gentle hands.

He doesn’t even try to hide his tears, couldn’t if he tried, his arms aching too much to move them to hide his face. But he doesn’t avert his eyes from the ceiling, tries his best to ignore your stares burning into him. He can’t face it yet, whatever it is you feel.

Only when he feels you slowly unfurl his legs, helping him straighten them out, knead them between your warm palms, does he look down. You look like an angel. So pretty. So gentle. Tears blur his vision. He doesn’t want to have fucked it all up. He can’t live if you don’t love him any more now.

When his body is stretched out, resting clean and comfortable again his sheets, you lie down next to him. Place your gorgeous head on his pillows, fold your palm underneath your cheek, reach out the other to card through his sweaty hair. Minho thinks he can feel the touch in his entire body.

For a long moment, it’s quiet. You’re looking at him. He’s staring at you. He tries not to blink. He doesn’t want to miss a single moment. A small smile steals its way onto your lips, and he feels tears gathering in his eyes again. God, he’s so fucked up over you.

Before he can cry again, you gently scoot closer to him, your gaze dipping down to his lips, your nails dragging over his scalp soothingly.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. Did so well, for me, my sweet boy …”

Your voice sounds far away, but your words make the dread melt from Minho’s bones so fast it makes him dizzy. Replaces it with a quiet, helpless kind of love. He can feel your breath on his lips. He closes his eyes. When you kiss him, he kisses back.

It’s only a closed-mouth kiss that you press to his lips, then another, and another. Soft. Almost chaste. Until Minho presses forward, makes one linger. Gently, still fragile, scared, he parts his lips, runs his tongue over the seam of your lips, greedily swallows the little sigh you make in the back of your throat. You open your mouth to him, slide your hand into the hair at the back of his head, and he presses closer, licks into your mouth. Tentatively, he places a hand on your waist. Holds his breath. Waits for your hum of approval, you arching into his touch, before he finally lets his hand explore the body that’s been haunting his every waking hour for the last years.

The dip of your waist is sweet. It fits perfectly under the curve of his arm when he winds it around you, pulls you against his chest until he can feel all of you against him, your belly softly rising and falling against his, your tits squished into his chest, thighs pressing together, before one slings over his. He can feel the strap of your bra under your shirt. He curls his fingers into it for just a second, entertains the thought of ripping it off you. Of the punishment you might dole out. It makes his cock twitch. He’s sure you can feel it, but you seem distracted enough, your fingernails dragging down his bicep, slipping down to his waist, to snuggle even closer, press your body into his like you want to make a home in it. He wishes you would. Carve out his chest and crawl in. Make yourself a home in his bones. He’d keep you safe.

Slowly, slow enough for you to be able to protest, should you not want it, he drags his palm down the dip and curve of your back, until his fingertips start gliding over the thick, mouthwatering swell of your ass. His pinky snags on the pocket of your jeans when he slides down to cup your cheek. Then he squeezes.

Dumbly, he watches, feels, as you gasp into his mouth, your hips twitch forward into his body your hand tightens on him, tries to drag him closer, though your bodies are already pressed so close he loses track of where he ends and you begin. When he kneads your ass again, you rock your hips forward again, and he slips his thigh in between your legs almost instinctively. Your legs clamp around it and with the next squeeze of your ass, you gently moan into his mouth, suck his bottom lip between your teeth and grind against his thigh. He can feel the heat of you through your jeans.

Minho’s cock is already hardening; so fast, and so soon after coming, that it aches. But your body underneath his hands, so beautifully responsive, so clearly enjoying him touching you–

His hand wanders, slides down the expanse of your thigh, down the outside, then back up, sweeping over the top, his thumb dragging over the inside seam of your jeans, until his fingertips find your waistband.

When he pulls himself away from you, he’s breathing heavily. There’s a string of spit that hovers in the air for a solid second, before it breaks, wets your bottom lip. He leans in, licks it clean, presses a chaste, almost reverential kiss to your lips. Much as he wants to let it linger, he doesn’t. He pulls back until he can look at you again and finds you already staring at him. Doe-eyed, yet wild. He has to swallow a growl, like a feral fucking animal. His fingertips trace the waistband of your jeans, knuckles brushing against the impossibly soft, sweetly pudgy skin underneath your belly button, until he reaches his goal. He taps his fingers against the metal button, looks at you with a question in his eyes. You nod.

Your breath puffs against his face in shallow bursts as he pops the button, his mind playing a highlight reel of all the time he’s imagined his as he slides down the zipper. He doesn’t even bother pulling your jeans down, only leans back enough so he has enough space to shove his hand down your pants. It feels a little dirty this way. Like you could be anywhere. In the car. In a restaurant bathroom.

His fingers brush past coarse, trimmed hair and God, he loves that you haven’t shaved it all off. He wants to bury his nose in it, wants to breathe you in until he never forgets your scent. The cotton of your panties is sticky against his knuckles when his fingertips make contact with the hot, slick heat of you. You gasp, and his cock twitches, and he can’t help the wanton groan that tears past his lips.

With the awkward angle, he can really only dip his fingertips in, and it’s not enough, not even remotely, so much so that he feels greedy, feels maybe more courageous than he should. He kisses you harder, pushes you backwards with every greedy press of his lips, until you’re lying back against the pillows and your legs fall open, and he can shove his hand further down your pants and finally–

Your body arches into his, your fingers fist the material of his shirt, when he sinks his fingers into your slick properly. A wet finger finds the button of your clit and his mind shuts down, the only thing he can think of is you. Your heat, your body, your pleasure. He would die in service of it if he could.

His cock is half hard and aching, where it’s lying against his thighs, and he hisses when the sensitive skin of it brushes against the harsh material of your jeans in the most delicious way. He sinks his ring finger into your heat and one of your hands wraps around his chin, forces him to look at you.

The insistent strength of your grips makes fuzziness bloom in his consciousness again already.

“You sure you’re good for another round?” you whisper.

It’s a silly question. As if Minho could rest, knowing he hadn’t pleasured you yet. As if he could rest without knowing what your orgasm tastes like.

Blearily, he nods, grinds his hard cock against your jeans again. He hopes he stains them. If it were up to him, you’d leave his apartment tomorrow with his cum stained all over your clothes. Make sure everyone out there knows you’re his.

“Soft or rough?” you offer, and he nearly melts. You’re so sweet. But you don’t know how insatiable he is for you. How sweet the the roughness feels to him.

He twirls his finger, rubs it against the silky walls of your pussy. The feeling of it sucking him in makes his eyelids flutter and his train of thought fizzles out.

“Rough,” he manages to choke out, his free hand curling around your wrist, dragging your hand up to his throat until you get the memo, but you stop there suddenly. Stare down, like you just realised something.

“The necklace,” you murmur, and he swallows thickly. He’s scared that you smell it on him, the desperation. That it’s somehow written on his face, branded into his skin, how often he has choked himself with it as he was spilling over his fist.

“Did you know …” you murmur, as you reach out, play with the metal. Your fingers are so close to his throat, he barely dares to breathe. His blood thrums in anticipation.

Then your fingers tighten, and you pull and suddenly, there’s metal wound tightly around his throat and the thin little stick end of the closer peeks out of your closed fist.

“It’s a slip chain,” you whisper, eyes trained on Minho’s face.

It feels so good like this. Tighter, a more even pressure. Oh, he had no idea it could feel this good. Stars dance in Minho’s vision and his hips rut forward, his cock grinding and drooling heavily against your jeans. Finally. Claim. Mark. His brain no longer feels like his own.

“I barely dared think about it when I bought it. But I couldn’t help myself …”

His vision goes spotty, and he doesn’t know whether it’s from the lack of oxygen or the fact that all this time, he had worn the necklace, had worn his devotion to you wrapped around his neck like a dog and now … you tell him you thought about it, too.

All too soon, he thinks, you let go and the oxygen rushing back into his lungs makes Minho nearly collapse into your chest. He moans hoarsely and you hum in response.

“But it’s dangerous. You have to promise me you won’t use it like that when you’re alone.”

Minho blinks. Your tone has changed. He’s trying to figure it out, but his brain isn’t … doesn’t …

Slowly, you pull his hand from your pants and he frowns. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t think he did, but … you don’t want him to touch you any more?

“Promise me, baby,” you repeat, and he just blinks at you. You seem to finally realise when your face softens, your hand comes up to cup his cheek. He nuzzles into it instinctively, his eyes slip shut. You swipe a thumb over his bottom lip, and his mouth falls open instinctively. Your breath hitches.

“Are you worried because you like playing with the necklace? Hm, bunny?”

Minho nods. Without opening his eyes, he nuzzles closer into your palm. Your attention on him is so addicting. Your thumb finds his bottom lip again, pushes in until it’s resting against his tongue. He wraps his lips around it. Sucks, just a little. You curse under your breath.

“God, you’ll be the death of me. Don’t worry, bunny, we can still play with it,” you purr, and Minho’s brain goes to static, “I’ll choke you as much as my dirty little bunny wants, but alone is too dangerous. Bunny could get too into it. Hurt himself.”

He feels himself nodding. He guesses it makes sense.

You pull your thumb from his mouth, shush him gently when he whines at the loss of its weight on his tongue. But all complaints die in his throat when he realises what you’re doing.Calmly, you shove

down your jeans, exposing your panties. They’re not black, like the ones he stole, but grey this time, but they have the same lace detailing around the waistband. His mouth goes dry when you pull them off your legs nonchalantly, dark where they were sticking to your slick cunt. He can’t see your pussy from here, only the tantalising V of it, your sweet belly and the little curl of pubic hair on your mound, but he feels like he can smell it. His brain zones in on it like he’s a hunter, and it’s his prey. He needs to … he needs to touch … he needs …

“Promise me, and you can touch,” you say, gently, but firmly, and he blinks back at you. His tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth and the words barely want to come out.

“I … I promise.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Promise what?”

Your hand winds into his hair and the touch shudders through his entire body. His eyes flutter shut, and he grinds his cock forward, mewls when he finds your skin instead of jeans now.

“Minho …”

He sucks in a breath. Wills his brain to focus for one more second.

“I … I promise I won’t play with the n-necklace w-without you …” You hum, press a soft kiss to his lips, and he nearly tumbles into you when he tries to chase your lips.

“Good boy,” you hum, and Minho preens.

The hand in his hair holds tighter, starts pushing him away from you, and he blinks his eyes open in confusion, before he realises where you’re guiding him.

He lets himself be pushed down, between your legs. His mind swimming when you part your legs for him, expose where you’re wet and needy and so pretty , without shame, and the trust you put in him isn’t lost on him, not even in this state.

Your little clit, pink and sweet and swollen, peeks out from underneath its hood, wedged between the lips of your cunt, and he reaches out before he can stop himself. Brings a thumb there. Drags the silky pudge of it aside so he can see more. Spit pools in his mouth.

When the top of your foot makes sharp contact with his balls, it makes his whole body jump – and he drools a little bit. You laugh. Almost a little mean, yet nowhere near mean enough. He wonders if he will get to tell you to be meaner. He wonders if you’ll want to be.

Nonetheless, he flushes red hot, wipes the drool off his chin with the back of his hand.

“I don’t need to even tell you what you did wrong, hm?” you mutter, disappointment laced into your voice. He shakes his head, swallows thickly. Mumbles an apology. You hum, then your eyes harden.

“Shirt off,” you order, and he rips it off his body so fast he nearly falls over. When his eyes focus back on you, you’re staring at him. Eyes roaming over his shoulders, his chest, the hint of abs on his stomach.

Minho takes a deep breath. Steels himself for what he’s about to ask.

“You, too …? P-please …?”

He blinks his eyes at you innocently. You stare at him, and sit up, and pull your top over your head.

And as much as Minho tries, he can’t stop his eyes from straying, gluing themselves to every newly exposed inch of skin. How your tits strain against your bra, how the straps dig into your shoulders. The goosebumps that litter your skin when you reach behind yourself, undo the clasp. He nearly drools again when your tits tumble free. They’re as perfect as the rest of you. The perfect size, jiggling prettily, when you lie back down. He watches as your big, soft nipples slowly pebble in the cool air. Notices little streaks of stretch marks around the side of them. He wants to trace them with his tongue, wants to suck your tits into his mouth and feel your fingers tug at his hair and–

“Bunny, you were about to do something, weren’t you?”

Minho blinks back into focus when he realises he’s just been sitting between your legs, staring at your tits for an embarrassingly long time. But the fuzziness in his brain prevents him from feeling any real shame. And so does the soft condescension in your voice.

“Oh, goodness,” you coo, and it’s so sickly sweet it makes Minho’s attention snap back to you, “already so stupid, and we’re not even doing anything yet.”

His eyebrows draw together. He wants to say something, but his brain won’t work the way it should. Instead of thoughts it’s just static.

You sigh, shake your head.

Static. Sadness.

“We’ll have to see if you can even manage to make me feel good,” you sigh, and Minho vaguely shakes his head, clumsily reaches out, digs his fingers into the soft skin of your calves. He wants to lie down, already, wants to eat you out for as long as it takes, as long as it takes for you to shake through an orgasm. He’ll learn. He’ll be patient. He’s not too proud. Your pussy on his face would be a privilege. He’d do anything for you. Anything.

“Aw, sweet thing,” you hum, and he realises he just said all of that out loud. His mind spins. His cock throbs.

“Well, if all else fails, at least you have that big, gorgeous cock of yours,” you hum, and the object of your appreciating twitches needily between his legs. He’d always hoped you’d love his cock. Big, girthy, but not too much. Sensitive. Hard. Leaking. He hasn’t had many partners, but they’d all loved his cock.

“Bunny …” you call, and he realises he zoned out again. “Why don’t you finally put your mouth to good use, hm? Before you get distracted again. Maybe that’ll keep you busy enough.”

And despite how badly he wants it, he freezes. Stuck staring at you with a wish lodged in his throat that he can’t find the words for.

“What is it, baby? What’s your colour?” you ask, and this time, it’s free of any condescension. You’re really checking in on him he realises. It’s okay. You want him to feel good. He’s safe.

“G-green,” he mumbles, swallows, “c-can I have a k-kiss?”

Your eyes turn impossibly softer, and without a second’s hesitation you sit up, grab him by the wrist, gently pull him closer until he can lean in and press his lips to yours. It doesn’t last for more than a few seconds, but he leans into it with everything he has, drinks up every ounce of love you offer him until he feels drunk, until the static in his head turns warm, like a million bees buzzing around the sweetest honey. It makes him dizzy, floaty, barely aware of his body lowering itself onto the bed, his hands wrapping around your thighs, your waist, his mouth opening and his tongue lolling out, laving over your most intimate place. The staticky mess in his head goes quiet only long enough for him to hear his own debauched moan he laves into your folds..

Tart and sweet like raspberry syrup. Addicting like it’s laced with something. The smell of you, the smell he’s been chasing in the cotton of your underwear for the last week, only tarter, sweeter, muskier. Real. He wants to fucking drown in it.

Your folds are slick and slippery under his tongue, only aided by the drool that slips out his mouth, his tastebuds going haywire. When he laves over your hole, there’s a whole new world of flavour. Something hotter. Sweeter. Creamier.

He chases it, laves at your hole until your legs start closing around his head, before he finally licks into it, past the soft muscles, fucks his tongue into the impossibly small, burning hot space of it, and all the finds is more of the taste he can’t get enough of. It’s even purer there. He laves over your walls, revels how they flutter around him, clench when he’s especially deep. He sucks against your skin, moans as drool and slick slide down his chin.

His mind is completely gone, and when you gently tug at his hair, pull him from your hole and up to your clit, he dutifully starts licking there, too. Licks over your clit, circles it with his tongue, flicks it until your hips start twitching, jerking so hard he can barely keep his mouth on you, so hard he has to dig his hands into you more firmly, and it helps. It also makes your pussy quiver, and as if on cue, he slides down to your hole again and oh, you’re only getting sweeter. He licks at you again, and again, presses over your clit, then slides down, laps at your hole that’s still, somehow, getting more delicious, cream and peaches and musk–

Distantly, he hears you moan, hears you whimper his name. Not bunny, or baby, his name. It shakes him out of his stupor. Almost drunkenly, he pulls away. Feels a drop of your slick, of his spit, slide down his chin. The hand in his hair slips down to rest on his cheek. He blinks up at you and oh. He’d never thought you’d look like this.

Your head is thrown back and you’re flushed, from the apples of your cheeks, down your neck, your chest heaving with heavy breaths, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your body like a thousand diamonds. Your thighs, trembling next to his head, your belly twitching sporadically. He shudders out a breath and you look down at him, make eye contact with him over the swells of your body, and he wishes he could paint so he could immortalize this view. Your makeup is smudged, a strand of your hair is plastered to your forehead. You look absolutely debauched. Fucked out. Perfect. You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Oh god, he wants to make you come.

He would've dived back in right then and there if it hadn’t been for your hand sliding back into his hair, fingers tightening in the strands, tugging him to stay upright.

Oh. Right. He was meant to listen. To learn. Instead, he got so lost in it … Are you mad at him now?

“Stop eating me out like you’ve done this before,” you growl, and Minho’s poor, fuzzy brain ties itself into a knot of confusion. “You’re making me fucking jealous. Don’t make me think of you with someone else.”

Oh. He almost laughs.

He almost laughs because … how could you think there could be anyone else? Since the day he met you, he knew this was it for him. It was you, or no one. Anyone he may have had before is only a distant memory, mediocre pleasure, bodies he doesn’t remember, tastes that never did more than mildly gross him out. Right here, between your legs? With the way you look at him, touch him, talk to him, he feels like a virgin all over again. He wants to relearn pleasure. Wants to map it out on your body for the rest of his life. And maybe the next one, too.

Your brows furrow, face scrunching up in annoyance, and he feels giddy. You’re jealous. Jealous of him. Of him.

With a rough little shove, that embarrassingly makes Minho moan very loudly, you push him back, until he’s sitting back onto his haunches. Then you turn around, reach back for his hand and tug him closer.

“Fuck me,” you order, and Minho nearly chokes on his breath.

“F-from behind?” he squeaks out, his brain threatening to melt out of his ears at the mere suggestion.

You nod, shuffle back until you’re right in front of him, stick your ass up and let your upper body fall into the sheets. Presenting your ass, your little hole, your sopping wet pussy to him on a silver platter. When he doesn’t do anything, you wiggle your hips impatiently. Enticingly. As if the view of your naked back, the slope of your waist, the little jiggle of your ass wasn’t enough to drive Minho insane.

He might not survive this.

“Fucking fuck me like you’ve never touched anyone else before,” you hiss, reach out for one of Minho’s pillows, shove it underneath your face, “and make it hard. I wanna feel your cock every time I sit down for at least the next three days.”

Minho reels. You’re filthy. You’re perfect. His hands find your waist, dig into the soft skin, into the soft lines of your stretch marks. He hopes you let him learn them by heart one day. Maybe if you’re still here tomorrow, when the morning sun streams in through his windows. He’d like to kiss you then, all over your body. Explore every inch of it. Worship it like you deserve.

Because he feels almost out of his mind right now. Brain still fuzzy, overwhelmed with the knowledge that you’re here, naked, and jealous. He can hardly remember how to have sex at all. How to make his limbs go through the motions. How to keep enough control of his body to not come immediately when his cock is inside of you. He has soiled innumerable, uncountable sets of bedsheets and pillowcases just imagining this. And now you’re here, naked, jealous of whoever came before you.

“Come on, bunny, or have you really forgotten how to use that big cock of yours?”

Minho breathes out. Tries to shake enough of the fuzziness out of his head to be able to do this. He wants to do this right. Needs to do it right.

With shaky hands, he reaches between you, takes a hold of his cock, hisses at the contact because God, he’s so turned on it actually hurts. He doesn’t know how he will hold out, but he grits his teeth – he will have to. He wants to fuck you with his cock that you called beautiful, and he wants to feel you come around him, and then he wants to breed you f-full …

Nope, he can’t go there right now. He really can’t. He won’t make it. He lines himself up with your hole, watches entranced as your folds part around him, your slick coats his tip – and then he pushes in.

The head of his cock pops in and Minho … loses it.

“Oh fuck. Oh, fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuuuuuuuck.”

He curses until he bottoms out. Loud. Way too loud for a Thursday at 7pm in his busy apartment building. He doesn’t give a fuck. Your naked body is in his hands. Your slick, wet hole is sucking him. Taking all of him. His head nudges at your cervix. It’s a perfect fit. It’s a perfect fit. He almost starts crying.

But before he can, you swivel your hips forward, and then backwards again, fuck yourself back on his cock so perfectly, he nearly doubles over. Nothing has ever felt like this before.

“God, you do feel good,” you moan into his pillow, and Minho just whimpers helplessly. “Such a pretty cock. All for me.”

Without allowing him a second to catch his breath, you do it again, pull back almost all the way before you press his cock back into your pussy, then, again, and again, the slide of it getting easier with every swivel of your hips.

You fuck yourself back hard, slam your ass into his pelvis and the head of his cock brushes your cervix, and he throws his head back, his hands that were previously hanging helplessly by his side, scramble to find your waist. He digs his fingers into your skin, tries to ground himself.

With his cock buried all the way inside of you, you start grinding your hips in slow, torturous circles, and Minho’s cock twitches violently, deep inside of you. You laugh, breathlessly.

“Are you gonna do something, bunny?” you ask, the condescension still clearly audible, even through the veil of arousal. “Come on, I know you wanna. Filthy boy. Come on, hump me, like the horny dog you are.”

Minho nearly blacks out. The embarrassment settles deep into his guts, burns brightly, making his balls tighten already.

“W-wanna … so bad …”

You coo, clench your walls around him tightly, and he keens, nearly doubles over and crashes into you.

“Then go for it,” you coo, “come on, bunny, with a cock that big I’m sure I’ll still feel something at least.”

He feels like the luckiest man alive. Like he’s nothing but a feral, horny dog that you’re tugging into place so he can hump you. He’s the luckiest man alive because you let him and you like it.

He tightens his grip on your waist, sinks one of his hands into the plush of your ass, pulls back, and then fucks into you at the same time as he pulls you back onto his cock, and it’s the best thing he has ever felt in his entire life.

“Yeah,” you breathe, “do it again. Just like that.”

And he does. Every thrust punctuated with a helpless moan, he starts fucking into you, slowly, savouring every drag, until your pussy gives way for him so easily, the drag against your walls gets so wet and easy, that he speeds up. One hand screwed into your ass, using the thickness of it to pull you against his cock, he starts slamming into you in earnest.

He’s moaning. Wantonly. Loudly. Dimly, he realises that you are, too. Just as loud. Your hand fisted into the sheets so hard your knuckles are turning white.

He lets his body take over. Rolls his hips, grinds against you harder with every thrust. His knee slips slightly to the side on the sheets, and it angles his hips differently, and you moan loudly into the sheets, your pussy gushing wet and hot around him. He drills into the spot again and again, rolls his hips, rubs the sensitive underside of his cock against your walls until he thinks he might pass out, the pleasure rocking through him threatening to consume him.

When you swirl your hips to meet him, his hips stutter. But you do it again, drag over his cock with a practised swivel of your hips. Practised. With someone else.

Suddenly, the tables have turned. Now he’s the one consumed by a murderous jealous rage.

He doesn’t know if you feel it in the air, if something changes in the way he moves, but suddenly, you’re moving, pushing yourself up on your shaky arms, reaching a hand behind you, reaching out to him, and he doesn’t hesitate to lace his fingers with you. Pull you up. The changed angle makes you gasp, your fingernails digging into the back of his hand.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, his hips faltering, settling into a slower, more controlled pace, “baby. Baby. Y/Nie …”

He’s babbling, but he can’t stop himself.

“I love you. I love you so fucking much. Please, don’t … don’t fuck anyone else ever again. Want you to be yours. Want to be your only one. Please. Please.”

His voice is high and thin. He’s babbling and pleading, and you whimper, and then you grind backwards, grind his cock inside of you deeply, and he feels the shudder that goes through you shiver through the walls of your cunt. He’s connected to the deepest part of you and the knowledge alone makes him dizzy. Blindly, he falls forward, plants one palm into the bed in front of you. Your soft back catches him. His face lands in your hair. He breathes you in like a starved man. You’re here. You’re his.

“F-fuck, bunny,” you gasp out, and it’s so close to Minho’s face that he can feel your voice rumble through your body. It’s unreal.

With one hand resting on your belly, resisting the urge to worship every inch of it with his fingers, he cautiously pulls back, just a little bit, and then sinks his cock back into you. The twin moans you let out, bounce off the white walls of his room.

“I love you, too, bunny, you’re the only one,” you gasp out between the little moans punched out of you with every rut of Minho’s cock inside of you, “never felt … never felt like this, bunny. Baby. Minho.”

His name again. Minho feels faint. His lips find the skin of your shoulder, brushes against every inch of it he can reach. Tongue, teeth, lips. Licking up the saltiness of your sweat, the heady musk of your body.

He feels drunk when he starts to set a cautious rhythm. Pulls back as far as he can, without having to unglue himself from your back, because he thinks he might die if he does.

Your pussy feels hot. Swollen. Wet. Abused. It throbs around him. He wishes he could stay buried inside you for the rest of his life.

Both your bodies move with every thrust of his hips, and his slow pace picks up again soon because it’s addicting, hearing the noises punched out of you, feeling every single tremor of pleasure shiver through your skin. His free hand finds your tits, wraps around one of them, thumb and pointer finger finding your nipples. Soft. Soft soft soft like everything about you. He pinches meanly and you gasp quietly. Not so sensitive there, he notes, carefully, in the compendium of you that he will fill out for the rest of his life.

With one particularly deep thrust, your pussy squelches around him, and he realises just how wet you are around him.

“G-gonna cum,” you mumble.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, bring his hand up to your mouth and suck two of his fingers into your hot, wet mouth. Minho groans, fucks forward so hard he nearly sends you toppling over. You’re not phased, only lick around his digits until they’re soaked, and then, with an unrelenting confidence, drag them down, down, down, between your legs and oh of course.

The angle of his arm makes his body press closer to you, and he could cry for joy. Every deep thrust of his hips makes your sweaty bodies slide together. Minho laves over a bruise in the crook of you that he barely remembers sucking into your skin, and rubs his fingers over your clit and your response is immediate.

Your head falls back, comes to rest against his shoulder. He rubs deeper, harder, fingers brushing against where his cock is pounding into you with every swipe, trying desperately to not lose his head, trying to take in every single second of this.

Your body leaning back into him more, relying on him to hold you; your walls tightening, fluttering, squeezing him so hard he can barely feel his toes, so close is he to coming.

The beautiful tightening of your body culminates, and before he knows it you’re shaking apart in his arms. Trembling. Letting out a long, desperate moan, fucking your hips back against his cock, holding his hand between your legs, wringing every single drop of your pleasure out of his willing body.

Before you’re even done, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, and he comes, too, pleasure throbbing through his veins, pounding through his head so hard he fears he may black out. Still rubbing your clit he bullies his cock as deep as he can, and then fucks in even closer, no doubt bruisingly punching against your cervix, but you don’t seem to care. You moan. Sob. Take every single drop of his seed, milk it out of his cock and into your greedy body.

You freeze there, for a second, breathing heavily, aftershocks racking through your body, through your pussy, still locked around him. Minho’s brain feels like it’s floating somewhere far above him. Blearily, he realises that he’s still blindly suckling on the skin of your shoulder, and he lets go of it with a pop. There’s a bright purple bruise where his mouth was. It makes a familiar flicker of shame lick up in his guts.

But before he can panic, you sigh contentedly, take his hand, slowly manoeuvre the both of you onto the bed without Minho’s cock even slipping out of you. Some feral part of him purrs in satisfaction. Wants to plug you up and keep you full of him all day, every day.

You come to rest in his arms, the little spoon to his big spoon, warm, pliant, slightly sticky, pulling him closer until he’s plastered against your back again, wrapped around him tightly, like you don’t want to let him go either. When you still try to pull him closer, he can’t help the soft giggle that escapes him. You smile. His heart skips a beat at the sight.

Lazily you squeeze his hand, pull it up until you can press a soft kiss to the back of his it. You hold it there, nuzzling your face into his skin, nudging your thumb with his nose. His heart threatens to beat out of his chest. You let the fingertips of your free hand softly over his arm.

“Did so well for me, baby,” you mumble, sleepily, “so well. Love you so much. Let’s rest for a moment and then shower, okay?”

The words make something in Minho’s chest bloom. The flicker of shame and anxiety is smothered by sheer light and warmth, and he realises now, what he was missing all this time.

He mumbles your name into your hair. You hum.

“Stay?”

You giggle, gently tug his arm tighter around you until he nearly topples over you, his sensitive, softening cock shifting inside of you.

With your eyes closed, and a giant smile on your face you bring his hand back to your lips, press a kiss the back of it again, before you start peppering kisses all over his hand, his wrist, anywhere you can reach. You tip your head back, wait until he presses a softm dazed kiss into your hair, before you blink open your eyes. Smile at him. “You’re not getting rid of me anymore.”

Minho smiles. Then he leans in and kisses you. Cups your face, runs a hand over your sweaty hair, breathes a million I love yous into your lips until you’re giggling again. In the morning, he’ll find the real words. All the scattered remnants of his burning, desperate love for you, scattered through his battered, bruised, body, and he will tell you, for real. He will tell you just how and and just how much he loves you.

But not now. Now he’ll kiss you, again and again and again, just because he can, until you call him bunny again, just to make him pliant enough to let you shoo him in the shower.

He likes being your bunny.

link back to part 1

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

Felix drabble......

Need Felix drabble......

Please.....

Since you asked so nicely!

Sub!Felix (skz) Drabble 10

Sub!Felix x Dom! Male! Reader

Warnings: NSFW/minors dni, pwp, pet(kitten)-owner relationship, rough sex, mentions of dacryphilia, orgasm denial, ropes, cage, crossdressing, blowjob, nipple play, established relationship, idk if i forgot smth, ok bye.

Word count: idk again

This will have a pt2! So the next drabble is a continuation. And I did not proofread this, it's midnight here where I am.

Felix watched attentively as his owner tied his hands above him to the cage's roof bars, pulling slightly for him to tiptoe. He felt how his pink, short skirt lifted slightly with the motion, the white stockings band in better view now.

"ah... well..." Felix looked at his owner in front of him, blush prominent all over his face and fading down his exposed chest. "I already feel vulnerable..." He laughed lightly, and his owner held his waist before giving him a peck.

"That's my point." He said smiling, hands gliding up and down his waist. His hands then traveled to his nipples, pinching them softly and pulling towards him. Felix gasped and arched his back, body moving torwards the source of stimulation. He licked his lips, eyes hooded and avoiding his owner's stare.

"Have I ever told you how much do you turn me on whenever you lick your lips...?" His owner asked before twisting his nipples. Felix moaned and shook his head, smiling and looking up at him.

His owner let go of his nipples right after, rubbing the now red buds with his thumbs. He kissed his neck as one of his hands traveled south, below his skirt and holding Felix's already hard cock. Felix moaned once again at the touch, eyes finally closing. His moan grew in pitch when his owner began stroking him, squeezing slightly and speed increasing by the second. He trembled and writhed a bit, hips attempting to thrust but the movement being difficult because of his feet not touching the floor completely. His owner kissed his chest while his hand sped impossibly more around Felix's cock, twisting everytime his hand reached the sensitive tip. Felix whined his owner's name, holding tight to the rope above him keeping his hands together. He felt so close to release, the coil in his stomach about to snap; but it never did, as his owner stopped all movement and held his base tight, avoiding him to cum. Felix whined pitifully, head hanging.

"Cumming without your owner's permission...?" His owner asked, smiling at his kitten's frustration.

"P-please... L-let me c-cum..." Felix shrunk as his owner bit one of his nipples, pulling slightly before letting go.

"...I'll let you cum whenever I want to." His owner answered, kneeling in front of him. He lifted up his skirt with his free hand and licked the precum drooling from the red tip. Felix shivered, lips pressed together and trembling.

"P-please..."

"Wanna cum so bad...?" His owner asked, latching his lips to the tip and sucking slightly. Felix moaned and threw his head back, unable to cum due to the pressure around the base of his cock.

"Y-yes~!" Felix shouted, hips attempting to buck one again without avail. His owner pulled away, kissing the tip.

"Bad for you." He smiled at him before taking in his mouth his kitten's cock once again, this time making sure to hit the back of his throat. Felix moaned and whined louder, pleading to cum.

"a-ah~! P-please~!" Tears threatened to escape, eyes squeezed tightly together. His owner ignored him, sucking strongly and beginning to bob his head. Felix moaned his name and trashed around, twisting from a side to another to get rid of the useless stimulation. His owner pulled him out of his mouth, panting.

"O-owner..." Felix tried again, eyes opening just a little bit, staying still now that he had his owner's attention. "P-please let me cum..."

"I will, later... right now, I'll let go and you can't cum. If you do, no more cumming the rest of the week. Got it?" His owner told him, and Felix nodded frantically while panting, knowing he'd be rewarded for being good. His owner slowly let go, and even though he expected Felix to cum in the moment, he didn't. Only more precum dribbled down his hard cock. His owner smiled, kissing his stomach.

"Good kitten..." He stood back up and kissed his flustered cheek. Felix couldn't help but smile a bit at his owner' attention, tugging slightly at the rope with the need to hug him and keep him close. "I'll be right back." His owner announced, stepping back and out the cage before leaving the room, closing the cage before doing so. Felix only stared at the door attentively, hoping his owner wouldn't leave him tied up, hot and bothered in that cage.

Masterlist

Can I ask for a drabble or one shot about sub jeongin getting breed and face fuck (Jeongin will sit on the reader's face but.. if you comfortable, ofc!) by the male reader? ^^ thank you

Have a great day/night!<3

First. Shiiiit, I erased everything.

Hello, sure! You are my first request, and I have never written for Jeongin so I hope this is alright! Feels nice to write out of my comfort zone once in a while lmfao.

I'm just sorry it took so long, I have so much homework and work- I hope you like it! :D

Sub!Jeongin (skz) x Male!Reader Drabble

Warnings: NSFW/Minors dni, pwp, rough sex, unprotected sex (sTay SafE), breeding, anal fucking, established relationship, rimming, blowjob, face-fucking, bit of spanking, I think that's all.

Word count: 907

Jeongin pulled away from his master's cock and gasped. His thighs trembled and twitched as he tried to lift his hips away from his master's face, feeling the knot in his stomach about to snap due to his master's tongue feverously licking into him, but unable to cum just yet.

His efforts were useless, as his master gripped his thighs harder in place, determined to make him cum and disobey the order of not cumming before he fucks him. It just gave his master a reason to fuck him as roughly as he pleased.

Jeongin whines, eyebrows furrowing and eyes closing tight as his master hollowed his cheeks in a sucking motion while the tip of his tongue was still rubbing against that small, unique-textured bump inside of him that had him constantly twitching.

"H-hyung~..." Jeongin was able to say in between moans and pants and sloppy sounds due to the excessive saliva in his hole. "H-hyung... I n-need to c-cum..."

His master just held on tighter to his thighs, tongue rubbing faster against his prostate. Jeongin whined and went back to sucking his master's cock, slowly inching it back into his throat and shuddering when his master moaned into his asshole. When he found it impossible to ignore the need to come anymore, his hips began swiveling in circles, staccato moans vibrating against his master's cock and causing his master to begin thrusting his hips upwards into the warm heat. Jeongin closed his eyes tightly right before he released all over his master's chest.

His high was elongated as his master didn't cease the ministrations on his prostate, but it came to a stop as overstimulation took over him. He whimpered when his master wouldn't cease his thrusts into his mouth either, pushing deeper into his burning throat. He knew better than to stay still and take it until his master asked him to stop.

Jeongin yelped when his master pulled his hair harshly to remove his mouth from his cock and abruptly spanked him hard enough to leave a red imprint of his hand over the skin. Jeongin was finally able to lift up his hips slightly, thighs trembling more than before, panting and throat feeling sore.

"G-get on all fours, pretty foxie" His master ordered while catching his breath. Jeongin did as instructed, climbing off his master's face and positioning himself on his hands and knees over the bed. His master was soon enough behind him, opening the lube bottle and dripping a generous amount right over his hole while holding one of his ass cheeks open. Jeongin sealed his lips when he felt the ice-cold liquid against his entrance. Once he discarded the bottle, he began rubbing the gaping hole with his fingertip in circles.

"Didn't follow the rules..." His master murmured, finger moving away to press the tip of his cock against his entrance, head catching against the rim. He held onto Jeongin's waist with one hand, and with a swift move, he pushed into him. Jeongin nearly screamed at the pressure applied against his hole as it obscenely opened up to give space for his master's girth. After all, he wasn't prepared by more than his master's tongue. He took a few deep breaths, trying to get accustomed to the sudden stretch.

His master pulled out of him until only the head of his cock is once again the only reason to keep Jeongin's hole split, just to snap his hips hard into him.

Jeongin moans loudly as his master keeps up this pace, rubbing against his prostate without mercy with every thrust. His master leans over him, pressing his chest against his back and holding his waist to keep him in position. This gives his master better mobility to speed up his thrusts, and Jeongin's body jolts forward due to the relentless pace. Jeongin is sure his arms have already given out to hold him, but his master's arm securely around his waist kept him up.

Jeongin's staccato moans grow in pitch as his head falls in between his shoulders, throat still bothering him from the previous face-fucking, feeling his release once again approaching as his owner keeps railing him from behind and pressing against his prostate in a torturous way. His back arched involuntarily to try to relieve some of the overwhelming stimulation on his prostate, his master's panting against his ear, but it was useless. Just a few more thrusts and he would be sent over the edge, and his master's thrusts were becoming sloppier, announcing his release was soon too.

This never happened for Jeongin, but he cried out when his master gave a rather harsh thrust, body roughly jolting forward more than previously, and arms finally giving up any strength left. His head fell against the bed, hands curled in fists on each side and upper body leaning forward as his master cummed inside of him.

Jeongin felt him pull out a few seconds after and whined, his release taken from him mercilessly. His master only chuckled behind him in between pants, holding both Jeongin's asscheeks and parting them open, watching as his own cum dribbled out of the abused, pink hole, gaping around nothing.

"I'm not done with you yet, baby, don't worry..." His master said enticed by the sight before pushing his cock into the warm tightness once again slowly as Jeongin let out an elongated moan, his master's cum going back inside too.

Masterlist

𝕴'𝖑𝖑 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖕 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖇𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗, 𝖔𝖐?

Sub!Felix(Skz) x Dom!Male

Word count: 517

Warnings: NSFW (minors dni), pwp, pet(kitten)- owner relationship, rough sex, crying, hair-pulling, fingering, aquaphilia, overstimulation, waterboarding? (I don't think so cause there's no non-con but I wanna warn correctly TT) breath play, torture, established relationship, idk if i forgot smth, ok bye. but did i forget something?

Second kinktober post! Why isn't tumblr saving drafts correctly? :,D

This smut belongs to one of my unpublished book, edited to fit Felix.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Kinktober 2024 - Week 2: Aquaphilia/Torture

"He couldn't help to let out a high-pitched moan underwater, forgetting completely how to hold his breath and even breath when his release hit him. It felt just as good as choking; but maybe even riskier. His whole body felt on fire, struggling every now and then in fear to breath."

"F-fuck..." Felix mewled, back arching and gripping tighter on the edges of the tub, knees open on the bathroom floor with his ass sticking out while two of his owner's fingers quickly moved in and out of him. What his owner planned and Felix thought was a warm bath quickly turned into a mess when his owner undressed him in the bathroom; he didn't take long to touch him. The tub was full to the brim though, even when no one was inside.

Yet, Felix's hair was dripping wet due to previous disobedience. It sent pleasant shivers down his spine when he arched his neck, hot water dripping on his back and sliding over his asscheeks and between his legs, mixing with the cum from past orgasms used as improvised lube.

"A-ah," Felix whined, moving forward to get rid of some stimulation when he felt his release approaching again. It didn't work, since his owner's fingers moved forward with him and pressed deeper inside, curling up every now and then to hit his prostate and keep him in the edge.

"P-please, I-I'm gonna-," his words were cut with his own squeal when his owner yanked him by his hair to make him look at him, all while his fingers kept moving relentlessly. His eyes bored into Felix's red eyes, lashes decored with a mixture of small droplets from his tears of pain and pleasure and the water, mouth open just a bit to moan freely and regain some air.

"You can take it for me, right, kitten...?," he told him, pushing a third finger inside of him forcefully since his hole was squeezing tighter than usual, signaling he was close, in fact.

Without further warning, he pushed his head into the water inside the tub, enjoying how Felix's whole body tensed and his hands tried pushing against the edge to breath. His owner kept a firm grip, not allowing him to budge from his position underwater, all while he worked his fingers to rub on his prostate vigorously. After a few seconds, Felix began moving his hips, unsure if to move closer or away.

Felix let out a high-pitched moan underwater, forgetting completely how to hold his breath and even breathe when his release hit him. It felt just as good as choking; but maybe even riskier. His whole body felt on fire, struggling every now and then in fear of breathing. He couldn't help but inhale some water, struggling just a bit more when he did. His owner pulled him by his hair outside of the water, and Felix gasped deeply right before coughing due to the water inhaled, mixing with whines in between when his owner wouldn't bother to slow down. It was all such a disgusting mess, and Felix had to admit he loved every single bit of it.

His owner slowly pulled his fingers out, to Felix's relief. He was still panting heavily, trying to regain his breath. His eyesight was blurry, but he felt his owner comb his wet hair back and couldn't help but curl his lips into a small smile.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Main Masterlist

Kinktober Masterlist 2024

wait…wait… fingering felix or vice cerda while gaming mmm 😋 obv online or with friends or smth 😳 just having to play it off while cumming wowie🫠

-🍄

and Happy New Year my friend<3

happy ny to you 🍄 anon! this is such a great thought… what about having him cockwarm your strap after 🤭

🏷️ sub!felix, pegging, cockwarming

“stay still, baby. you’ll get yourself killed if you keep messing up.” 

felix curses into his headset when one of his enemies almost takes him out. it’s a close call; he’s getting sloppier and sloppier, nearly getting sniped by another player. 

you’re right. he needs to focus or he’ll lose. 

pull yourself together, lix. 

he shifts in your lap and whimpers when his next shot misses its target by a landslide. 

“lix! what are you doing?! put your head in the game mate!” 

chan’s voice rings through the headphones. one earpiece covers felix’s ear and the other is pushed back so he can hear both you and his teammates. he mumbles a shaky apology in the mic and you notice how his voice sounds oddly high-pitched. which means his friends must hear it too. perfect. 

“concentrate.” you press a kiss on his nape. his fuzzy hoodie tickles your nose. “you don’t want them to find out what’s really going on, do you?” 

felix shakes his head. he’d been the one who’d insisted on this: begged for more than the gentle pressure of your fingers inside his tight hole. and you’d obliged. with only one drawback: he has to finish this round first. 

and win. 

for the past twenty minutes felix has been sitting in your lap with your strap snugly fitted between his walls. every movement, not matter how small, has the curved head pressing against his sensitive prostate.

it’s torture. felix wants nothing more than to lift his hips and fuck himself on the silicon dildo but all he can do is sit as still as possible and keep his eyes fixed on the screen. he can’t afford any missteps now. not when he’s risking losing more than just this stupid game. 

watching your boyfriend struggle to keep himself from mindlessly grinding down onto your lap fills you with amusement. he looks so pretty like this: all flushed and agitated like he might lose his composure soon. his bottom lip is stuck between his teeth to stop himself from revealing his plight to his friends. every muscle in his body screams out in desperation; from his tense shoulders to his leaking cock twitching in your hand. there’s so much precum it dribbles down your fingers. at this point he may be wetter than you are and you’re surprised he’s been able to stay this still. just like him you hope the round doesn’t last much longer. you can’t wait to see the outcome. 

“i think you want them to hear you,” you whisper for his ears only. “want your friends to know you can’t wait to get fucked. what if i tell them i’m going to bend you over this desk if you win, hm? fuck your needy hole until you’re begging me to stop because it feels too good?”

felix can’t prevent the sudden moan leaving his lips. fuck, you know him too well. his ears burn at the idea of chan and jisung listening to him getting ruined and reduced to a sniffling mess. 

he can’t help but wonder how his friends would react. would they cut off the audio and never bring it up again, too flustered about having overheard something so salacious? or would they enjoy it… their pants tightening as they picture themselves in felix’s position. or (and the next thought is almost enough to make him blow on the spot), in yours. 

chan’s fat cock drilling into him while jisung holds felix down until he can feel his best friend’s cum drip down his ass—

shit. he has to stop and fucking focus for once.

felix knows you’re loving every minute of this. it’s evident in the way you chuckle when he fidgets in your lap. you’re thriving off his distress and it only makes his cock ache more. you keep whispering filthy words into his ear, seemingly unconcerned about anyone else who could be hearing them. 

would you want them to overhear? fuck, he can’t go there, not now—

felix has no idea how he makes it through the next ten minutes, but as soon as the victory screen pops up he disconnects from the voice channel with only a short, clipped “bye!” to his teammates. his hands are shaking as he tries to catch his breath. he won. 

“congratulations, pup,” your voice is sweet like honey and his heart beats impossibly faster when you take off his headphones and grab hold of his stuttering hips. “you deserve your reward.”

yandere felix

summary: basically just sub yandere lixie x dom reader

a/n: i do not condone this sort of behaviour, this is purely for amusement purposes and should not be done in real life nor' should be normalized

There was never a time Felix could remember where he wasn’t in love with you

Ever since you were little with a childlike innocence, clinging to each other's sides and running around in the dirt and mud as little kids do

and your parents would joke about how one day you would get married

From the time where you’d stick out your tongue in disgust at the prospect, claiming that he had cooties and roll your eyes, groaning at your parents for being so weird,

all while he blushed shyly, hiding behind you and agreeing with every word you said

he was absolutely smitten with you in the adorable way children are

and as you grew older the dynamics simply stuck, 

he was shy and cute, hanging on for the ride while you surged into your elementary years.

clinging to your side all throughout grade school to the point where your teachers felt like they needed to separate the two of you

not that it made much of a difference if you weren’t in the same class though.

Constantly you were kicked out for sneaking into his class during school hours, sneaking in halfway through class, sitting beside him just outside of the teacher's view until you were inevitably caught with how loud the two of you were laughing

during break time you were off and out of the classroom in a matter of seconds, elated to see each other again after forever apart (in your little kid minds at least)

it never failed to surprise people the 180 Felix's personality did when he was around you.

always a soft-spoken gentle child, not speaking much out of turn but it was undeniable,

He laughed, he smiled, he joked. He seemed to be energized by your very presence

when you weren't together he’d be surrounded by kids who tried to be his friend but they never mattered. They were just a substitute for you until you were reunited 

He was your best friend in the entire word

And you were his

god forbid anyone who ever tried to bully or tease him 

the few who tried, cornering him in the courtyard, taunting him for hiding behind you all the time got what they deserved

A black eye and a broken bone or two. 

While you proudly sported your fair amount of bruising and a suspension from the school for ‘violence’ and 'bullying'

You argued, they didn't listen

"It was their fault though!"

And Felix nodded along,

getting himself suspended the very next day so that he could be with you

neither of your parents were quite happy but they’d long since stopped trying to separate you

It was an impossible task they’d found

you were inseparable

with enough nights finding that one of you would sneak out to meet the other they decided it was just best to allow it and let the two of you come through the front door

instead of Felix breaking his arm trying to scale the house into your open window

Then came high school

hormones got involved and bodily functions changed, feelings got weird and things were different

you began to see things differently. Began to see other people, discovered just how wide world was with so many experiences and people out there;

so many things to do and accomplish, so many things to see and touch and feel

but where you began to see others, when you began to see the world

all Felix ever saw was you

But his feelings weren’t as innocent as before.

They were different.

Looking at you made him feel all tingly and made his heart beat faster.

Your crooked smile made his cheeks burn red and when you grabbed his hand he swore he felt butterflies in his stomach

and to his shame he found that whenever you hugged him or wore his clothes it made certain things a little hard to deal with 

it was embarrassing and his little crush only grew and grew over the years

his jealously only burning brighter when he sees you hang out with anyone else

and then, to his horror you started dating.

He knew you never saw him the way he saw you.

Knew that while he looked at you like that, you were looking at someone else the same way

But he though that...

he didn't know what he thought

but to see you date someone else

He was your “best friend”, “Practically my brother!” You’d tell people and he’d smile along, acting as if it didn’t break something inside of him each time that you did

As if he didn’t love you so much it hurts

As if he didn’t think you were-are his soulmate, the most perfect thing on earth-no one else deserves you, no one could ever be enough for you

Not even him.

but he’s willing to die trying

Your ‘Best friend’

That cuts off any other friends he may have when you jokingly tell him that he's not spending enough time with you, isolating himself from the entire world,

your name the only thing in his head as he stares down at your contact waiting for you to message him. 

he's at your beck and call, whenever you want, him he's there no matter what.

just the sweetest thing ever, bringing you little gifts that reminded him of you, flowers and candy when you're sad, spending nights cuddled up in your arms because you didn't want to be alone, stars in his eyes as he hangs onto every word that you say.

but it's okay, because it's platonic right?

right?

Just platonic with how he has so many pictures of you, enough to fill an entire album

Just platonic the way he tries to rile you up and get you angry so that he can get videos of you yelling at him, calling him pathetic and dumb in your rage

Platonic with how he uses them to get off in the dark of night when it’s only him the sound of your voice filling his ears

the way he specifically watches porn with people that look like you and listens to those asmrs labelled ‘mommy takes care of baby boy’ or some shit with people that sound like you

Just platonic the way he watches so much of that shit and yet never loses his virginity

He wants to keep that for you

Only for you

Even if you have a 'boyfriend'

Even if that 'boyfriend' is an asshole and doesn't deserve you

It's just not fair that he gets to have you

All Felix wants to be under you, feeling you, hearing you moan and whisper dirty secrets to him

He wants you to corrupt him

Like you do to him.

He’s spent so many nights, ear against the wall as you fuck him right on the other side, touching himself to your words

The desire deep inside of him as his fingers fumbled to undo his pants, revealing an undeniable evidence of arousal—aching and throbbing with pent-up desire

For you

Only for you

Always for you

Trying to moan so quietly to hear every little word, every little pant fallen from your lips

Squeezing his eyes shut, imagining you were talking to him, you were stroking his cock, calling him a dirty slut

“Are you enjoying this you little perv?”

“C’mon, be a good boy and beg for it.”

“You’re such a slut.”

“Doing so good for me, such a good boy~”

Fuck

That’s the side of you he’s oh so in love with

When your tone shifts to a purr, something so irresistible leaking into every word. 

Or when it’s a mean growl, disgust dripping from every syllable, venom sounding like the sweetest melody in his ears

He can picture the way that you would lick over your lips like you were about to devour him whole

Picture you standing over him, making him feel so small

He’d reach down and lace his fingers with yours, face bright with a blush, looking up with angel eyes,

ready to do anything, beg for your attention, plead for your affection, get down on his knees for a single touch

the way your hands brush over his cheeks, lingering on his perfect features and his cute little heart shaped freckle

tracing over his pretty lips before pressing your fingers into his mouth, down onto his tongue, listening to the way he’d moan, warbled speech asking for more

because he’s greedy and he’s selfish and he wants it all

wants all of you and wants you to have all of him

and he knows that it would never be enough. That he loves you so much, wants so much of you it would never be enough until he was so close nothing could tell apart the two of you

Until he could crawl into your skin, be safe and warm with you

And it could still never be enough.

But this. It’s enough. For now.

Enough in this stolen moment of indulgence, a euphoric solace imagining himself intertwined with you, hearing your voice and for a fleeting second it’s not through a wall, it’s not to someone else. It’s to him

a brief transient escape from his yearning and desperation for you, a moment where his head goes hazy and he tastes colours and sees sounds and feels you touching him

A moment where he feels like his sanity is slowly cracking apart under everything before reality comes crashing back in waves of guilt and longing.

with his fingers coated in his own cum and your name whispered like a prayer on his pretty lips and his chest aching with the want to be in your arms

When you formally introduce your 'boyfriend' to Felix the first time

he swears he has never felt such hate for another person

A boiling, searing, horrific dislike

The want for this guy to get his hands off your hips and get out of your life.

You were honestly confused at his behaviour

never have you seen your best friend so...angry or mean

scoffing whenever that asshole spoke, rolling his eyes and making pointed but passive aggressive remarks that he tried to play off as jokes

(They were anything but jokes)

it was so out of character for his usual soft and cheery self you were baffled, having no idea what was wrong with him

until Felix makes an odd remark about he's sure that this guy will never be able to make you feel good, "too prideful and selfish with a small-"

you pull him to the side, grabbing onto his arm so hard it leaves angry red marks

that he'll probably end up jerking off to later

you practically hiss at him, glaring at him as you tell him off

saying that you have no idea what’s going on with him but he needs to stop it.

That he's your boyfriend and you'd really love it if your best friend could support you

He swears he could’ve almost cried from that. From you defending that asshole, taking his side instead of Felix’s

The only reasonable explanation is that the guy is toxic, he’s manipulating you, he’s bad for you and no one else can see it except for Felix

It seems like he’s in a haze for the rest of the night.

Civil but not really there. Nodding along animatedly, not looking in his direction for the rest of the night

He would swear he was still in that haze when he pulled your 'boyfriend' to the side as he was about to leave, after you had just left out the door, Felix calling behind you that he just wanted to have a quick word with him

in a haze as he threatens him, telling him he needs to stay away from you or else

-or else what?

He’s still in his ‘haze’ still, two nights later when Felix finds out that he never did

You’re so confused when he doesn’t show up for your date. Never texts or calls you back. When you get told from another friend that he ended up moving away for some unnamed reason.

Felix calls you and when you don't pick up he gets nervous and decides to show up at your place

To find you crying and heartbroken over that fucker.

He never deserved you.

Felix knew that

But he comforts you still, he lets you cry on his shoulder

He buys you ice cream and take-out and puts on a movie for you to watch

He lets you lay against him until it's the middle of the night

the room is dark except for the glow of the tv screen, the light illuminating your face to him as you lace your fingers with his

"Felix?"

It feels so odd for you to call him that, and not Lixie or Fefe like you normally do

"Yeah?"

Even odder to hear you say it in such a serious tone.

"Can I do something?"

he looks at you and you look at him

his eyes are wide, cheeks dusted pink

before you lean in and press your lips against his stupidly pretty ones

and in the dark of midnight, with a horrendously stupid comedy movie you insisted watching playing in the back,

He lets you use him

He lets you take his virginity-it was always yours after all, along with his heart and his body and his soul

No matter how rough you are, he takes it all with a moan and a cry for more

Fefe lets you take everything out on him. Every dark desire, all your stress and all your pain poured into making him cry beneath you

And with you on top of him, calling him a good boy, telling him he’s so fucking good for you he melts

He breaks

He cries

He holds back his tongue and doesn’t let spill every little feeling he has for you, how long he’s waited for you, how much he wants you and needs you and adores you

How you’re everything to him.

And you kiss away his tears and he kisses away yours

For tonight he’s yours.

Yours, yours, yours,

No one else’s.

You make him feel things he didn’t know his body was capable of feeling

Playing with his nipples and his dick, licking over his skin with a moan like he's the best thing that you've ever tasted

And when he feels on the cusp of insanity he laces your fingers with his and bring you in for a soft kiss,

so unlike anything else that’s happened tonight

so unlike the rough, borderline cruel way that you fuck him

But in the eye of the storm there’s a kind of quiet

gentle and soft, your lips against his. He swears he can feel your heart beating through your hand.

It’s everything he wants to say, everything he can’t say poured into it

And then you pull away and he whines and you smirk.

He sees heaven and hell and stars behind his eyelids and decides that you’re more important than all of them. 

He sees the marks he leaves on your skin and the marks you leave on his in turn

He feels euphoria and bliss beyond what he thought was possible. Beyond any porn he’d watch and any times he’d touched himself to thoughts of you-he never thought feeling this good was possible

You tug his head back by his hair, slotting your face beside his to whisper in his ear.

“You’re fucking mine, do you hear me Lix? Mine.”

As if he's ever been anything else.

He always has been. He always will be.

“Yours, only yours.”

As if anyone else could have him now. As if you hadn’t ruined him for anyone else. No one could make him feel the way you did and he was not interested in even looking.

Yours.

He never wants to stop

Never wants to stop feeling like this

Feeling like he’s yours and only yours and you’re his and only his

If he could die in this moment, with you he would die a happy man.

He falls asleep in your arms, curled up into your chest

your bodies sweat-soaked and your tired pants filling the room 

you hold him and he swears he’s never been happier in his entire life.

With you.

The next morning you’ve left a note.

You went back home to stay with your parents for a bit and didn’t want to disturb him when you left, but he’s free to stay however long he wants, the keys are on the counter for him to lock up when he leaves

He wishes he could say that he only stayed for breakfast and a shower but that would be a lie

He doesn’t leave for a long time

Because he’s in your bed, surrounded by your scent, covered in your marks from the night before, only able to remember the things that happened between you two

And all of that makes him so hard

He buries his head into your pillow and tries to imagine-remember

He buries his head into your pillow and remembers everything you did to him. Every word he worships in his head, every touch he tries to replicate

Shame fills him as he humps your pillow, unable to stop himself.

As he digs through your dirty laundry, stealing dirty underwear that he uses to get off too

It’s not you, but it’s close enough

He spends way too long in your apartment, doing things that fill him with shame and guilt and desire

How could he not though? With his body still tingling from your touch. 

With his fingers still tracing over the marks you left on his body.

The marks that slowly fade throughout the day.

Marks that he wished he could ask you to replace.

And when you come back you act as if nothing happened. 

You act as if you haven’t touched every part of his body. 

As if you haven’t left marks all over him.

As if you know he isn’t completely and utterly obsessed with you.

As if you hadn’t made him promise to be yours.

But you never promised to be his.

It’s okay.

He’s okay with just being your best friend

With being the shoulder to cry on and the one you come home to after another guy that you liked suddenly doesn’t want to be around you

They’re all temporary. He’s here to stay.

He’s your Lixie, your Fefe

That’s all that matters.

He’ll be your best friend that’s around just a little too often,

That does just a little too much,

That warms your bed a little too many times to be just friends.

But you don’t wanna cross that line.

So it's okay.

As long as you're okay with the people you go out with disappearing after a short while

he may be complacent with the fact that you date someone else but he's not about to let them stay for long

And deep down you know what's going on

you aren't stupid, you don't miss the way he looks at the people you date, you didn't miss the mysterious red stain on his shirt after you got ghosted for the hundredth time

but when he lays in your lap, stretched out like a cat, looking so adorably harmless...

Does it really need to be addressed?

It's okay.

For you.

It's...okay.

For him.

He has something.

You have something.

Even if he really wants love. When he wants to be held and taken care of.

Wants to be told that you love him

Wants to be kissed on the forehead and told that he's the only one for you, that there's no one else.

No one else but him.

No matter that it's a lie and that you've told him all of that before.

a/n: is this kinda shit? yeah but i have such bad writer's block rn and probably won't post for awhile after this so i just wanted to post this now, it's my birthday so i'm going home to spend time w family

i might end up doing a fluffier (if you could even call it that?) version if you guys want it

my taglist is here if you wanna be added: @hobihearteu, @lemonhongjoong, @laylasbunbunny, @xcookiemonsteerr, @arlojulien-nightchild-of-hades, @hahagay, @lino-jagiyaa, @missrobyn81, @maru-matt, @goblinracha (i think this is everyone that wanted to be tagged?)

18+ Minors DNI

Felix who:

Will sit between your legs, resting his head on your inner thighs, looking up at you with the sweetest, widest, begging eyes.

Who loves to be called kitten or baby, shivering and purring whenever you call him either one. 

Who keens and melts if you whisper it into his ear, voice slightly raspy.

Who tries so hard to be a brat, wanting to be punished like one but at the end of the day all you have to do is look at him with stern eyes and a disapproving glare and suddenly he’s on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

Who claims he doesn’t like it when you mark him up. Whines out for you to stop when you begin to kiss up his neck but makes no effort to push you away or do anything else to get you to stop.

Who looks at himself in the mirror the next day, admiring the pretty purple splotches on his throat, tracing over them delicately with a finger before pressing down, letting out a helpless whimper at the ache of it.

Who likes to wear lacy panties with short skirts, purposely dropping something so he can bend over right in front of you, granting you a front row seat up the tiny strips of fabric that can barely be qualified as a skirt.

Who will wear those lacy panties and short skirts out into public along with a crop-top when he goes out with you, teasing you all throughout the day until you reach up his skirt and stroke his thigh.

Who drags you to a bathroom or closet, no regards for the public anymore as his moans and mewls fill the room.

Felix.