Zombie Apocalypse 🥀❤️🩹 | Felix Ft. other members 💕
After Met Gala ☁️❤️🔥| Felix 💝
Not what Best Friends do 🤭🥀💔 | Chan 🖤
Comfort ☁️| Stray Kids 💕
Felix is sick ☁️💝
Desperate ❤️🔥 | Minho 💝
Revenge☁️❤️🔥 | Chan 💖
Sleepy love ☁️🥀🤭 | Chan 💖
Slutty boy ❤️🔥 | Jeongin 💝
Absolutely Ready ☁️🥀| Chan 💝
Hybrid Wolf Chan x Male Reader 🥀☁️
No Context | Any Male ❤️🔥💝
Sleepy Boys ☁️ | Chan & Jeongin💝
Dreaded Monthly ☁️🥀 | Chan 💖
Non-Stray Kids
My first Jackson Wang post 🥀❤️🩹
Snowed in | Ateez x Male reader 💝 or 💕
Sunbeam | Seonghwa x Male Reader 🥀💔
Posts with Hannie
Jisung Thirst
Changbin Thirst
Seungmin Thirst
Husband Chan
Picrew
Picrew 2
Random Picrews I made
My first Member x Member
Fic Brainstorming with Hannie | Hannie’s thots
Jeongin Hard Thots
Seungmin Hard Thots
My Beloved First request!! <3
Smoking with Felix
First Sub Reader
My Sweet Boy (First Sub Reader ver.2)
I was tagged
Pinterest
Fav K-Pop Group
A little about me
Picrew
Character Headcanon
Blurbs/Random
9th member blurb
Stray Kids Toy male reader blurb
Chan and compression shirts
Professor Reader x Seungmin Blurb
Chan x Rich family Male Reader
Fantasy AU brainstorming
Hyunjin Fluff
My first prn links post
TV age limit
Chan is as delusional as his fans
Mn's Tattoo
Series
Sleeping Around ❤️🔥 | A series that goes through how you got into sleeping with all your members. Masterlist
More Than You Know | A series on temporary hiatus until getting back into it. It is about a Stay trainee named Mn who is integrated into Stray Kids and learns that the boys are way closer than Stays were led to believe. Chan’s Chapter Hyunjin’s Chapter ft. L.M
A Day with a Celebrity | A series on temporary hiatus about a Stay BuzzFeed employee who makes videos about spending the day with celebrities. His new video was the first time his crew picked the celebrity and when he got to the location of Seoul, South Korea, he was surprised to learn he’d be spending the day with his favorite K-pop group Stray Kids. First Post Masterlist/ Intro
could you please remove my arm pic with the loose shirt, its my pic I dont feel comfortable it being posted
I’m sorry I haven’t been on here in a while due to personal reasons. Could you be more specific of what the photo looks like so I can find it and replace it? I’m sorry, all my fic mood banner photos I get off Pinterest
🤍Pairing: Chan x Mn
💌From teasing messages to full-body worship, Chan shows Mn exactly what happens when you tempt a man who’s hopelessly whipped. No prep, no patience - just pure, overwhelming want.
📝Chan x Mn, bang chan smut, sub Mn, boypuss Mn, dom Chan, backwards cowgirl, overstimulation, dirty talk, whipped boyfriend energy, Chan being so down bad it's tragic, Mn being a bratty tease in Chan's shirt, zero patience just raw need, no prep but soaking wet, creampie, crying from pleasure, full-body worship, teasing and possessive hands, messy kisses, clit stimulation, aftercare included, soft dom realness, desperate and devotional sex
Chan sat hunched at the breakroom table, idly spinning a plastic spoon through his untouched lunch, not really tasting anything. His phone vibrated against the table, breaking the monotony like a spark in dry air.
"Muffin🤍 had sent a photo."
Chan blinked, sat up straighter. Probably a selfie, or maybe one of Mn’s usual sleepy updates.
What he saw nearly made him drop his entire lunch.
There, bathed in soft, warm light that streamed through their bedroom window, Mn sat on the edge of their bed wearing nothing but Chan’s oversized, light blue striped shirt. The fabric drowned his smaller frame, sleeves too long and draping past his hands. One of those hidden hands was clutching the hem, tugging it just far enough to barely hide what needed hiding. Everything else was fair game.
Bare thighs, smooth skin, one leg bent and just enough muscle peeking out to remind Chan exactly how strong Mn’s deceptively delicate frame really was.
And Mn had the audacity to look innocent.
Chan’s breath caught. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
There was no caption. Just that sparkle emoji Mn used when he knew he was being dangerous.
Chan didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until his coworker waved a hand in front of his face.
“You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah, spicy sauce in my eye,” Chan muttered, quickly returning his attention to his phone, cheeks flushing.
Chan🐺:
Do you have a death wish??
Why would you do this while I’m at work?
I’m sitting here with chopsticks in my hand, and now I want to use them to defend my honor.
Muffin 🤍:
I missed you 🥺
And I wanted to remind you what you’re missing 🤍
Your shirt smells like you. I like it.
I smell like you now, too. 😊
Chan let out a low groan and dropped his head back. His fists clenched. His heart pounded. He could already feel the heat pooling in his stomach.
He had the image burned into his brain: Mn in his shirt. On their bed. Teasing without mercy.
He typed:
Chan🐺:
If I was home right now, you wouldn’t be walking for a week.
I’d start at your knees, kiss and bite my way up while you tremble for me.
I wouldn’t even let you take the shirt off.
I’d push it up, leave you dripping, spread open, and begging
Ruin that pretty little pussy with my mouth.
You’d be crying my name before I ever gave you my cock.
And even then, baby, I’d take my sweet time.
Muffin 🤍:
🥺 Channie…
You’re not helping me.
I’m already squirmy and it’s worse now
I want you.
Need you.
Want you to plug me up to stop the dripping. Please come home early? Just for a little while?
I mean, Channie, you sound awfully thirsty...
Lucky for you, I’ve got the perfect thing to fix that.
Come home and take a sip...
or two 😏🥰
Chan’s jaw dropped slightly as he read the message, the heat behind his eyes sharpening. His breath left him in a slow hiss, hand flexing around his phone like it had personally offended him.
A few seconds later, another message came.
Muffin 🤍:
I’m such a mess now…
Look what you did to me.
The photo attached had Chan groaning through his teeth. The shirt was rumpled higher, the space between Mn’s thighs slick with evidence of arousal. Legs slightly spread. Mn's face barely shown but Chan can see his mouth parted like he’d been panting.
Chan stood up so quickly his chair screeched. He didn’t bother with an excuse this time.
He just grabbed his things and left.
Driving home, Chan’s thoughts were a loop of he’s mine he’s mine he’s mine.
He opened the front door, heart racing, jaw tight.
And there Mn was, laying on his stomach, legs swaying lazily in the air, shirt still on but his ass exposed, blushing fiercely as he peeked over his shoulder.
Chan dropped his keys.
“Jesus Christ.”
He was done for.
So, so gone.
And he knew this as he stared and, god fucking damn, seeing the real thing with his own eyes is always better, always softer, always warmer. That striped blue shirt hangs off his shoulders, swallowing his frame, sleeves dangling past his fingers. He's lying on his stomach with his legs bent up, heels lazily kicking the air, and the shirt bunched around his waist leaving his ass completely bare. His head is turned just enough to peek over his shoulder, giving Chan a shy, expectant look that nearly knocks the air from his lungs.
Mn’s cheeks are flushed a soft pink, his lips parted, and his dark lashes flutter as he looks up shyly.
"Hi, Channie," Mn says, voice syrupy soft, like he didn’t just ruin Chan’s entire workday with a single photo. "You really came home early…"
Chan swears under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he stands in the doorway, taking him in. Mn’s ass, soft and pink, framed perfectly by the fall of fabric. His legs swaying lazily, heels kicking at the air.
And the subtle arch of his back with the subtle bump up of his hips like an invisible pillow was under his front gives Chan a glimpse of the slick shine between his thighs. He can’t see everything but he doesn’t need to. He knows exactly what waits for him.
He walks over slowly, deliberately. Every step is heavy with need.
"You’re evil," Chan says lowly. "You know that?"
Mn smiles softly. "I missed you."
Chan kneels on the floor next to the bed and gently reaches up, hands sliding under Mn’s thighs to guide him closer, coaxing his body toward the edge of the mattress. Mn follows with a soft sound, shifting until he's right where Chan wants him. Even as Chan manhandles him with care, Mn still clings to the hem of the shirt, tugging it down shyly even after he’s flipped onto his back, just because, no real reason other than to continue looking sinfully cute.
"Still trying to be modest, sweetheart? After sending me that?" he asks, lips twitching at the corner.
Mn’s bottom lip wobbles a little. "Wanted to wait until you touched me…"
That breaks something in Chan.
His fingers slide up Mn’s thigh, slow and reverent, until he’s brushing the hem of the shirt. Gently, he moves Mn’s hand aside and lifts the fabric, finally revealing the perfect, swollen folds of his pussy, slick already glistening, lips puffy from arousal and heat.
"Fuck, look at you," Chan breathes. "God, baby…"
Mn whimpers at the attention, thighs twitching open on instinct as Chan leans down and presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of his thigh, just barely below his entrance. The shirt still drapes over Mn’s tummy, and Chan shoves more of the fabric up to kiss Mn's skin, right above where he knows Mn’s clit throbs.
"You did this on purpose," Chan murmurs into his skin. "You knew what this would do to me. Knew I’d drop everything and come running."
Mn lets out a soft, breathy laugh. "You’re easy."
"I’m whipped," Chan corrects, moving down again to finally, finally press a kiss to his pussy, soft and lingering, like an apology and a promise. Mn gasps, hips twitching, and his hand flutters up to cover his mouth. "So fucking whipped. You’d say jump and I’d ask how high while I was already midair."
Chan opens him with his fingers slowly, reverently, parting the folds to drag his tongue between them, humming at the taste of him. "And you're right..." Chan murmured as he savored Mn. Sweet, warm, familiar. "I was thirsty~" Chan dives back in and Mn arches with a broken moan, his legs spreading wider, shirt now hiked up to his waist. The sleeves dangle off his arms, and one of them covers his eyes as he hides his blushing face.
Chan keeps his mouth buried in him, tongue flicking over his clit just the way Mn likes, fingers spreading him open and teasing at his fluttering entrance but not pushing in yet. He wants this to be slow. Teasing. Loving.
"You’re perfect," he whispers against him. "You know that? So pretty. So fucking gorgeous. So good for me, baby."
Mn whines, his voice soft and wrecked. "Channie… please…"
That’s the sound that breaks him.
Chan groans and pulls back only to flip Mn gently onto his stomach, pressing soft kisses up his spine as he goes. His hands can't resist gliding over Mn’s bare skin, one palm settling to squeeze and knead his ass, slow and possessive. He hooks a hand under Mn’s hips and lifts him up just enough to press himself flush against him from behind, clothed for now, just needing to feel him.
"Say it again," Chan breathes, rutting slowly against Mn’s bare pussy, his work khakis dampening from where Mn’s soaked him through, darkening the fabric. "Say you missed me."
"I missed you, Channie," Mn gasps, voice muffled in the pillow, back arching. "Missed you so much it hurt."
Chan reaches forward, takes one of those shirt-covered hands in his own, and intertwines their fingers.
"I’ve got you now, baby," he says softly. "I’m here. Not going anywhere."
Chan strips quickly, tossing his clothes aside as he approaches the bed. Mn is already there, perfectly presented at the edge, ass up and waiting, shirt bunched high around his waist like an invitation. Chan groans at the sight as he steps behind him.
He presses the thick weight of his cock between Mn’s bare cheeks first, sliding it slowly back and forth to feel that warmth and softness, teasing them both.
"You really laid out for me like this, huh? You just love being my little present," Chan murmurs, his voice low and rough, one hand sliding up Mn’s spine. "This ass is mine, you know that?" Mn gasps and arches into it, the contact making him tremble. Chan groans softly, his hips giving a few more slow, deliberate rolls between Mn’s cheeks.
"Gonna fuck you slow at first, baby," he continues, teasing just a little more. "Make sure you feel every inch." Mn whimpers, pushing back, and Chan lets out a shaky breath, already obsessed with how easy it is to slide in from how soaked Mn is.
With a steady hand, Chan lines up and presses in, his breath catching as he sinks into Mn’s tight, soaked heat. There was no prep, no fingers, just raw, aching need, and yet Mn is dripping, fluttering around him, guiding him in with ease.
Chan groans, "So, fucking tight and yet sucking me in so well." Chan's hips roll forward with deliberate control, pressing deep into Mn’s soft, dripping heat and pulling back just enough to do it again, dragging along his sensitive walls with every breathless stroke.
Mn trembles beneath him, chest rising and falling in shallow gasps, his fingers clutching fistfuls of the bedsheets and Chan’s pillow like they’re the only things grounding him. His shirt, the light blue striped one that started all of this, is bunched around his waist, sleeves dangling like ribbons with every motion. The curve of his back is arched, his ass tilted up perfectly for Chan to press flush against him, and his thighs shake from how badly he needs more.
Chan’s palm finds the small of Mn’s back, then slides up, pressing flat between his shoulder blades as he leans over him, wrapping his other arm around Mn’s waist to hold him steady.
“You feel so good,” Chan groans, forehead pressed between Mn’s shoulder blades. “So fucking tight, baby. Always so perfect for me.”
Mn whimpers helplessly into the pillow. “Ch-Channie, s’too deep~, feels s'good, I- hgnh~”
“I know~,” Chan whispers in a deep purr, kissing the back of his neck. “I know~, baby~. You’re taking me so well. You’re always so good for me, so prefect and molded for me.”
He picks up the pace gradually, grinding into him deeper now, each thrust sending soft gasps tumbling from Mn’s lips. His pussy clenches so sweetly around him, hot and soaked and fluttering like it’s trying to pull Chan deeper, and Chan’s fingers tighten where they press into his hips.
“Look at you,” he breathes, pulling out just enough to watch the way Mn’s cunt shines with slick before sinking back in with a stuttered moan. “Look at how wet you are~. You wanted this so bad, didn’t you?”
Mn nods frantically, tears pricking the corners of his eyes from the overwhelming stretch and heat and pressure.
“Y-Yeah, wanted you,” he whimpers. “Missed you so much, missed your cock, wanted to be full again”
“You wanted to be stuffed full like this? My pretty little baby, sending photos to make me desperate,” Chan growls low into his ear, biting gently at the lobe as Mn gasps again. “Were you aching for me when you took it? All wet and needy while I was stuck at work like some idiot?”
Mn nods, hips pushing back instinctively. “Th-Thought about you a-all morning, Channie. K-Kept getting slick th-thinking about your hands, your mouth, your cock.”
Chan curses under his breath, losing a bit of control with the next few thrusts, harder now, rougher, making Mn cry out and shove back onto him like he needs it. The wet sounds between them are lewd, the slap of skin on skin ringing out with every impact.
“I’ll give you everything you want,” Chan grits out. “Want me to ruin you, baby? Want to feel me for days?”
“Please~,” Mn sobs, turning his head to the side, cheek squished to the pillow. “N-Need it, want it, want you so bad, need you to fill me up, Channie”
“Oh my god,” Chan groans, hips stuttering at the thought. “You’re gonna milk me dry, baby. God, you were made for me.”
Chan pulls Mn up gently by the waist, guiding him up and settling him onto his lap in a backwards straddle, still snug around him. Mn folds forward, bracing himself on Chan’s shins, the position arching his back beautifully and putting every inch of him on display. He begins to move his hips, rolling them in tight circles and bouncing slowly, his ass rippling with every motion. Chan groans, unable to resist palming both cheeks in his hands, spreading them just slightly as he watches himself disappear into Mn again and again. The view is obscene, and Mn’s pussy squeezes so tightly it makes Chan see stars.
Mn’s hands press against Chan’s shins at first, trying to keep his balance as he folds forward. Eventually, his trembling arms shift to grip the bedding on either side of Chan’s legs, clutching for support as he rocks himself harder, sobbing out Chan’s name again and again between breathless cries.
Chan rocks up into him from below, hands locked tight around Mn’s hips, holding him close, never letting him go. He thrusts hard and deep and full, his mouth trailing over Mn’s throat, jaw, temple.
“You’re mine,” he whispers, voice wrecked and full of devotion. “Only mine. You know that, right?”
Chan sits up, wrapping his arms around Mn’s waist and pulling him upright until Mn’s back is flush against his chest. His left hand slides up Mn’s front, gliding over the soft fabric of the shirt bunched around his middle, until his fingers reach Mn’s throat. Gently, his pointer finger and thumb grip Mn’s jaw, tilting his head to the side. Mn whimpers, pliant as Chan guides him into a kiss, messy and desperate, their mouths clashing while Mn continues rocking back and forth on his cock.
At the same time, Chan’s free hand moves down, slipping between Mn’s thighs to circle his clit with slow, focused pressure. Chan shifts, leaning back against the headboard and bringing his knees up slightly to support Mn’s weight better. Mn clings to him, his breath hitching, and then Chan begins fucking up into him hard and fast. The new angle makes Mn cry out, head falling back onto Chan’s shoulder with a loud moan.
"There, there, Channieeee~, sh-shit hngh~ Right there!" Mn gasps, his voice slipping into something sinfully baby-like and whiney. "Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, please don’t stop, right there~!"
Chan groans softly into his ear, his voice a gravelly tease. "Yeah? You want me to keep hitting that spot, baby? Gonna come soon?"
Mn nods, too breathless for words at first, only able to let out a sweet hum that melts into a high-pitched, whiney moan. "F-Fuck~" he cries out, hips faltering before finding their rhythm again of trying to match Chan's pace, hips rocking with a stutter again in an attempt to meet Chan's thrust for a harder hit.
Chan clenches his teeth, breath ragged as he picks up the pace slightly, fucking up into Mn with sharp, precise thrusts. "That’s it, baby, take it. Just like that. You’re so fucking perfect for me. So good, so pretty, just like that. Come on, baby, I’ve got you." Mn yelps, groaning softly. "Shit~ Ch-Channie, don't s-stop, Ha-nhg~ Shit~!"
Chan doesn’t. He keeps hitting that same perfect spot, his hand never leaving Mn’s clit or his throat, fingers turning Mn's head again, lips brushing over his cheek before pulling him in for a messy, wet kiss as Mn unravels completely.
Mn gasps into his mouth, Chan licking into Mn's mouth before Mn's jaw went slack with another whiney moan and his head fell back onto Chan's shoulder again, trembling from the dual stimulation from Chan's tip making him see stars and Chan's fingers rapidly playing with his clit, his pussy clenching again, and that’s all it takes. Chan groans, hips jerking upward with a final deep thrust, spilling inside him, warm and thick, groaning through gritted teeth as Mn sobs from the fullness as Chan thrusts hard one more time to bury himself deep.
Mn cums moments after Chan does, trembling in his arms, clinging to him as his walls flutter and spasm around Chan’s cock. His voice is wrecked, raw with overwhelmed bliss.
They stay like that for a long while, Chan breathing hard, holding Mn so tight, so close, still buried inside him as Mn whines softly and Chan presses kisses to Mn's shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. Chan keeps his fingers circling Mn’s clit gently, dragging out the pleasure, easing him through the high. Mn twitches and shudders from the overstimulation, little gasps and whines slipping from his lips with every touch, until his hips finally go still and he melts into Chan’s chest, completely undone.
Eventually, Chan lowers them both down gently, curling onto their sides, Chan spooning Mn from behind with Mn pliant and spent and wonderfully satisfied in his arms, Chan's cock softening but still inside him, keeping him full.
Chan kisses his shoulder. Then behind his ear. Then his neck.
“Never do this to me at work again,” he whispers.
Mn giggles sleepily. “Can’t promise that…”
Chan groans dramatically but smiles into Mn’s hair, whispering, “God, I’m so whipped for you, baby. I love you.”
“Mmhm,” Mn hums, curling into him, finally warm, finally full, and loved. "Love you too, Channie"
HIHI!!! I was looking through your masterlist and re-read your felix sick fic and to start, IM IN LOVE 💜 but also maybe if you're okay w/ it and are up to it, could you maybe do something like it but the sickie is Lino ?
I LAVA YOU, AND I HOPE YOURE DOING WELL >< !!
You're Not a Burden, You're Mine
🌸 pairing: MN x Sick Minho
🤍 tags: Sickfic, Stubborn Minho, Older Reader, hate for cold shower, cuddles, fluff, domestic, so soft, Minho "Is fine", Mn say otherwise, grumpy Minho with a fever, Minho feeling like a burden if you squint
📝note: this is the kind of love that makes your chest warm. no angst. just feelings. Toothrotting fluff
Mnie <3: I'm coming over
Grumpy Cat: But you don't have to
Mnie <3: I'm going to anyway
Grumpy Cat: It's just a small fever, I'm fine, I can still function
Mnie <3: What's your temp? read
Mnie <3: Minie? read
Mnie <3: Min? read
Mnie <3: I swear to everything, Min, you better not be above 100. read
“Min, 101?! You’re not functioning at all.”
Mn stood in the middle of Minho’s living room, coat still on, grocery bag looped in one hand, staring at his flushed, sleepy-looking boyfriend curled up on the couch like he hadn’t just tried to lie via text and say it was “just a little fever.”
Minho sat slouched in the corner of the couch, one leg bent underneath him, the other pulled up at the knee, arm lazily draped over it. His oversized hoodie was rumpled and clinging slightly to his sweat-slick skin, and there were deep pink splotches high on his cheeks. His hair looked like he’d tried to fix it and given up halfway through.
“Hi,” he said weakly, like he hadn’t just ignored Mn’s last text and then tried to sit upright like he wasn’t clearly about to fall sideways.
Mn exhaled slowly. He didn’t drop the bag, he set it down gently. Didn’t scold. Just crouched in front of the couch and rested both hands on either side of Minho’s knee.
“Don’t give me that ‘hi.’” He kept his voice soft. “You left me on read.”
Minho sighed and leaned his cheek against the couch cushion behind him. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“You said that,” Mn murmured, brushing his hand up Minho’s shin. “I worried anyway. And now I’m here. You knew I’d come.”
Minho didn’t answer. His lashes fluttered, and his eyes drifted from Mn’s face to the hoodie Mn was wearing, one of his own, actually. Mn always wore Minho’s clothes when he was worried. Some kind of anchor, maybe. Or just something to feel closer.
“You look nice in that,” Minho mumbled, smiling faintly.
Mn’s heart broke a little. “You’re trying to flirt your way out of care again.”
Minho gave him a shrug, the smallest lift of one shoulder. “Worth a shot.”
“Not even close,” Mn said, standing. “Come on. We’re not doing this here. You need meds, water, a fresh towel, and someone to glue you to the bed so you don’t pass out sitting like that.”
“I’m comfy-” Minho tried to argue, but Mn was already crouched again, gently tugging Minho’s arm over his shoulder.
“Nope. Up. Bed. Now.”
To his surprise, Minho gave in with only a bit of grumbling, though the moment he stood, he wobbled. Mn caught him instantly, arms firm around his waist, guiding him toward the bedroom with a quiet hum.
“You’re burning up,” Mn murmured into Minho’s hair. “You should’ve called me earlier.”
“You had a long shift.”
“You’re more important.”
Minho didn’t reply to that, but Mn could feel the way he leaned heavier into him after hearing it, like a silent admission of guilt and need all at once.
In Minho's room, the bed was already unmade, messy and tangled like Minho had tried to nap and just couldn't settle. Mn helped him down gently, then busied himself moving around the room. Opening a window just a crack for air, setting a fresh glass of water on the nightstand, and padding back in with the grocery bag and medicine.
Minho watched him the whole time, eyes half-lidded and warm in a fevered kind of way.
“You really did all that for me?” he asked, voice hoarse.
Mn glanced back, unwrapping a cool strip of medicated fever patch. “Of course I did.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and leaned in, brushing Minho’s hair back with one hand as he smoothed the patch across his forehead. Minho winced but didn’t pull away. If anything, his fingers ghosted toward Mn’s wrist and stayed there.
“You never complain,” Minho murmured, “Even when I make it hard to help me.”
Mn turned his hand to curl his fingers around Minho’s. “You don’t make it hard. You make it Minho, which is to say, you’re fiercely independent, annoyingly stubborn, and bad at texting when you’re clearly dying.”
That got a weak chuckle, which turned into a groan. Mn helped him sip water right after, thumb brushing his bottom lip when he wiped it.
“You gonna stay?” Minho asked, looking up at him through heavy lashes.
Mn smiled. “You think I’m going anywhere while you look like a feverish dumpling?”
“I could be fine in a few hours…”
Mn stood again, peeled off his hoodie, and climbed into bed beside him. “And I’ll be right here when you’re better too.”
Minho blinked at him as Mn tugged the blanket up, gently guiding Minho down until his cheek rested on Mn’s chest. He didn’t resist. If anything, he melted. Slow and sluggish, his hand finding Mn’s waist, his breath a warm puff against Mn’s shirt.
Mn held him close, arm wrapped fully around his back, hand resting between Minho’s shoulder blades with slow, steady strokes.
“This okay?” Mn whispered.
Minho nodded, almost sleepy now. “You’re warm. Soft.”
“You’re clingy when you’re sick.”
“You like it.”
Mn smiled into Minho’s hair. “Yeah. I do.”
Later, when Minho dozed off and Mn stayed awake rubbing soothing circles over his back, he whispered into the quiet room, “Next time, just tell me, okay?”
Minho didn’t answer but the way he curled in tighter, arm hooking around Mn’s waist, said enough.
And Mn didn’t move for hours. Because this was where he belonged, curled around someone who fought so hard to seem strong, but in Mn’s arms, could finally just be.
A few hours later, Mn blinked awake.
He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, not really. But with Minho tucked against him, wrapped up so sweetly in his arms and breathing slow, Mn’s body had betrayed him. It was only supposed to be for a moment. A blink. A rest.
What woke him was the heat.
He shifted slightly, frowning as his skin met Minho’s and found it scorching. Not warm, hot, like Minho’s entire body had become a furnace pressed against him.
“Min…” Mn sat up quickly, gently easing Minho’s head off his chest. The moment he did, Minho whimpered and furrowed his brow, curling inward.
“Shh, shh,” Mn hushed, brushing hair from his forehead. “Baby, I just need to check-”
He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the thermometer. When he pressed it under Minho’s arm, he quietly counted the seconds with a tight jaw. Minho stirred, blinking open, sweat clinging to his brow, neck damp.
“Mn-hyung?” His voice was groggy, slurred. “Why’s it so hot…?”
The thermometer beeped. Mn looked down.
102.4.
His stomach twisted. “Shit.”
Minho blinked again, dazed. “Is that bad?”
“You’re boiling, love,” Mn said gently, already shifting into action. “I’m getting you up. We need to cool you down.”
“I don’t- wanna move-”
“I know. I know you don’t,” Mn said, helping Minho sit up. “But this fever’s not coming down with meds alone.”
Minho groaned, slumping against him, forehead buried into Mn’s shoulder. “Not the cold shower. I hate the cold shower…” Minho whined and honestly it was so cute, Mn had to bite back a smile
Mn chuckled softly and kissed his temple. “You hate it until you’re in it, and then suddenly you’re praising the cold gods.”
“I’ll whine the entire time.”
“I’m counting on it.”
Getting Minho to the bathroom took patience...and strength. He wobbled, swayed, groaned like a cranky ghost every few steps. Mn kept one hand around his waist, the other guiding Minho’s head against his shoulder when he leaned too far. Once they were in the bathroom, Mn sat him on the closed toilet seat and pulled his own shirt off before helping Minho out of his hoodie.
“Still with me?” Mn asked softly.
Minho gave a weak nod. “Only cause I like seeing you shirtless.”
Mn barked out a laugh, relieved that even this sick, Minho could still flirt.
“Try not to pass out while you’re admiring me, alright?”
“Can’t promise.”
Mn got the shower going. Cold but not freezing. Cool enough to fight the fever without shocking his system. He peeled off the rest of Minho’s clothes with care, kissing his knuckles every time he helped him lift his arms or step out of something.
Then, they stepped in together.
Minho made a pitiful noise when the water hit him. “You’re trying to kill me.”
Mn wrapped his arms around him from behind, pressing cool kisses to the side of his neck. “I’d never. You’re far too cute when you’re miserable.”
“You’re sadistic.”
“You’re dramatic.”
But Mn was gentle. Rubbing cool water down his back, combing fingers through his hair, whispering praise and comfort the entire time. “Just a few more minutes. You’re doing amazing, baby. I’ve got you.”
By the time they stepped out and toweled off, Minho was less flushed, more sluggish. Sleepy. Dazed. But the shivering had stopped.
Mn helped him into a fresh set of pajamas. One of Mn’s oversized T-shirts and loose sleep shorts. Mn then tucked him into the couch this time, under a fresh blanket. Then he kissed his forehead.
“I’ll be right back. Stay awake for me just a little longer, yeah?”
Minho blinked slowly. “What’re you doing?”
Mn smiled faintly. “Making you something that cured every fever of mine as a kid. Magic soup, if you must know.”
Minho didn’t argue. He didn’t even sass. Just nodded and curled into the blanket like he trusted Mn with the world.
The soup was simple, fragrant, and full of warmth. Soft rice simmered with chicken broth, a pinch of grated ginger, slivers of carrot, and a swirl of sesame oil. Mn made it exactly the way his grandmother used to, letting it simmer low and long enough to make the kitchen smell like home.
He ladled a bowl and brought it out with a quiet hum of success.
Minho was still awake. Well, barely. His eyes fluttered open when Mn crouched beside him again, cradling the bowl and spoon.
“Smells good,” Minho mumbled.
Mn sat down and pulled Minho to sit up in his lap, one arm around his back to steady him. “Tastes better. Come on.”
Minho didn’t even argue this time. He let Mn feed him slow, careful spoonfuls, lips parting automatically, face resting against Mn’s shoulder between bites.
It was quiet. Peaceful.
Only the clink of the spoon, the breath between sips, the soft hum Mn made every time Minho’s eyes drifted shut. Mn pressed his lips to Minho’s temple after each swallow, whispering things like “So good for me,” and “Almost done, love.”
When the bowl was empty, Minho made a sleepy, content noise. “That was really good.”
Mn smiled. “Want seconds?”
Minho nodded. “Later… just. Stay.”
His eyes had already fallen shut before Mn could answer.
So Mn leaned back on the couch, shifting until Minho could lie against him again, curled fully into his chest. Mn draped the blanket back over them, one hand rubbing soft circles into Minho’s back, the other running through his damp hair.
“I’ll always stay,” he whispered.
Minho didn’t answer but his hand curled into Mn’s shirt, and he sighed against his neck like he believed it.
I hope this is okay and fluffy and what you were looking for.
🌸 pairing: minho x jisung
💍 tags: fluff, rooftop proposal, soft!minho, emotional!jisung, inspired by “I Love You 3000”
📝note: this is the kind of love that makes your chest warm. no angst. just feelings. Toothrotting fluff
The sky was that deep, moody blue right before full nightfall, with little stars starting to peek through thr clouds like they were eavesdropping. Somewhere down below, the city was alive. Horn honking, neon signs blinking, street food sizzling.
But on the roof top?
It was quiet. Peaceful. Like the world had taken a breath just for them.
Jisung sat cross-legged on the bench under the string lights he and Minho had hung last spring and didn't have the heart to take them down cause they were so pretty and soft so they never got upgraded.
Jisung had his hood on, earbuds in with his hoodie sleeves drowning his hands and he sang to himself.
Minho watches from the sreendoor he's propped open with his foot, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed as he watching his adorable boyfriend sing to himself and looking so soft.
Jisung was singing "I Love You 3000" by Stephanie Poetri. He sang it all the time. Doing laundry, brushing teeth, scrolling through cat videos. Minho watched as Jisung seemed to sing it differently than normal. Quieter. Like he was singing it for someone who wasn't listening but was hoping they would be.
Minho walked over to him and sat next to him with no word. Jisung flinched in surprise but relaxed and they shifted so Minho was turned more towards Jisung and Jisung leaned back into Minho, the older male's arm wrapping around Jisung and Jisung reaches up to hold Minho's hand at his chest.
The whole time, Jisung didn't stop singing and Minho rested his chin ontop of Jisung's head.
"Baby, take my hand, I want you to be my husband..." Jisung sang softly.
Minho followed, "Cause you're my Iron Man, and I love you 3000..."
They sang together, Jisung chuckling in the middle of some of the lyrics. Their voices tangled in the air, soft and tender and so full of love as their voices quieted as if they were singing for each other.
And when the last line faded?
Minho's free hand reached into his pocket and he pulled out a small box.
No fanfare. No dramatics. Just nerves and a soft smile.
Minho's arm comes around to Jisung's view and Jisung gasps softly when he looks down and sits up to look at Minho. Jisung looks back down when Minho opens the box and inside was a silver ring, ingraved on the inside was "3000"
"Minho..." Jisung whispers speechlessly.
Minho chuckled under her breath, trying not to get emotional and failing. "You kept singing that song and I realized...that's what I want. That kind of forever with you." Pausing, he takes a soft breath. "I also realized over the years, you don't like big things, you don't like flashy, you don't like loud so I followed the lyrics of your favorite song." Minho chuckles. "So here I am...making sure you have no clue and proposing...out of the blue..."
Jisung chuckles wetly and sniffs as Minho smiles, "Will you marry me?"
Jisung laughs lightly again, his mouth moved like he was trying to think of the right words but nothing was coming out, only getting caught in his throat as he sniffs and chuckles as his forehead leans onto Minho's shoulder, teary and overwhelmed but in a happy way. "Min, you're such a nerd."
Minho grinned, "Is that a yes?"
"Of course it is, dumbass," Jisung said, now fully crying and still laughing. "Just so you know, that song is ours now. We're stuck with it. Forever."
Minho didn't hesitate. "Good. I wouldn't want any other soundtrack."
Minho then leaned in and kissed him. Not movie scene passionate or fireworks over the sky dramatic. Just soft, grounding, warm. Like coming home and everything finally making sense.
They stayed wrapped up in each other, the city spinning on without them, the stars overhead and the song looping in their hearts.
Jisung gently climbs into Minho's lap and wraps his arms around Minho's neck, burying his face just under Minho's jaw and Minho's arms wrap tightly, completely around Jisung.
"I love you, Minnie."
Minho smiled, hiding his smile in Jisung's shoulder and squeezing him slightly as he moved his head a second later to bury his face into Jisung's neck.
"3000, My Sungie."
Yo, what's up, this is totally NOT inspired by Jisung's Bubble post of him singing "I Love You 3000" suppoedly with Minho next to him (That Minho part I got off tiktok)
N E WAY, woo! Softness! Member x Member! I also typed this on my new laptop!
Light blue is my most favorite blue and I love this thing already.
Yeah, N E WAY, Here's the blogs: @forever-atiny @lemon--shark @leezanetheofficial @belladonna6-6-6 @heartbinn @yongbokkk @dontwannaexsist @xxtrasht1gerxx @leeyasuojihan @laviedemamere @dis-trict9
tiny cat hybrid Minho (like 5'3 or smth) and big gentle dom owner
😭😭😭😭
𝐻𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝐼𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝒶 𝒫𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒, 𝐼𝓉’𝓈 𝒶 𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃
Pairing: Cat Hybrid!Minho x Owner Mn
Tags & CW: Hybrid AU, BoyPuss Minho, smut, Minho in heat, Dom\Sub, mentioned past neglect, size difference\kink, praise, lots of purring, Min be small, tail play, found family vibes?, aftercare, they're mated your honor, breeding kink if you squint, Lmk if I forget anything
Red line means smut
Minho had never been anyone’s first choice.
He was too small. Too quiet. Too hesitant. Most humans looking for cat hybrids wanted playful, vocal companions. Ones who would curl in their lap and purr on cue. Ones who didn’t flinch when touched.
Minho flinched.
Barely five-foot-three and as wiry as a house cat stuck between kittenhood and adulthood, Minho didn’t take up much space. But his presence was often treated like a burden. Owners giving up within a week or two, frustrated by how long it took him to trust.
Then Mn walked into the shelter.
Big. Calm. With soft brown eyes, arms that looked like they could bench press a truck, and a voice that rumbled like distant thunder but somehow still felt warm.
And he didn’t ask to see the “affectionate” hybrids.
He knelt by Minho’s crate instead, one knee to the floor, forearms resting on his thighs, and said, “You look tired, sweetheart. Mind if I sit with you for a bit?”
Minho blinked. Ears angled forward, tail curled around his feet.
He didn’t move. But he didn’t back away, either. That was all the answer Mn needed and he took Minho home that day.
Mn's house wasn’t extravagant, but it was quiet. Safe. The scent of cedarwood and warm spices lingered in every corner. There was a hybrid nook set up in the living room. Pillows, soft blankets, a heating pad, and a little plush strawberry toy big enough to hug.
Minho didn’t touch it the first few nights. He curled in a corner of Mn's bedroom instead, knees to chest, wrapped in the hoodie Mn had left folded on the floor near him.
Mn didn’t try to coax him. He simply said goodnight, turned off the lights, and left the door cracked open in case Minho needed to leave.
By the end of the week, Minho had started curling up on the floor beside Mn’s legs when he worked on the couch. Not touching. Just… being close.
Mn always acknowledged him with a soft “Hey there, kitty,” and let him be.
By the third week, Minho started chirping when Mn came home.
Just soft, little squeaks in the back of his throat, involuntary and warm. His tail would flick behind him, and his ears would twitch when Mn bent to take off his boots.
“You missed me?” Mn would ask with a smile.
Minho would flush and look away. But the chirps would continue and Mn never made him feel embarrassed for them.
The first time Mn touched him was by request.
They were watching a documentary, and Minho had slowly inched closer, inch by inch, until he was pressed to Mn’s side, blanket pooled in his lap. Mn’s arm was draped along the back of the couch, not touching, just… there.
Minho’s voice was barely a whisper. “Can you… pet me?”
Mn looked down at him, his expression gentle. “Yeah, baby. Where?”
Minho hesitated. “…My ears.”
Mn’s hand was big, warm, and calloused and steady as he cupped the side of Minho’s head, scratching gently behind one ear, letting his fingers drift down to stroke the soft fur where it met his scalp.
Minho purred for the first time. Loud. Uncontrolled.
Mn only smiled. “That’s my good kitten.”
The next few weeks were full of quiet milestones.
Minho started eating full meals. Letting Mn brush out his tail after baths. Curling in Mn’s lap in the morning sunlight, eyes heavy with sleep, tucked under one of his oversized hoodies.
They started sleeping in the same bed. Not tangled together, not yet. But Minho would shuffle closer at night. Sometimes he’d fall asleep with his nose pressed to Mn’s collarbone.
And Mn… Mn let him. Held him gently. Never took more than Minho offered.
Until one day, everything changed.
It started with a scent.
Thicker. Sweeter. Lingering on Minho’s skin and in his hoodie.
Mn noticed the shift one morning when Minho came into the kitchen flushed, hugging his tail to his chest, eyes glassy.
“Kitten?” Mn had murmured. “You alright?”
Minho didn’t answer. But he didn’t run, either.
Later that night, Mn found him in bed, curled on top of the blankets, thighs pressed together, face buried in a pillow that smelled like Mn.
“Are you in heat?” Mn asked softly from the doorway.
Minho whimpered. “Didn’t mean to bother you-”
“You’re not,” Mn said instantly, voice firm but tender. “You’re not a bother, Min. This is normal. It’s okay.”
Minho’s eyes welled with tears. “It hurts,” he whispered. “I feel… empty. Ache-y. But I-I don’t want a heat suppressant, they make me feel weird.”
Mn crossed the room slowly, sat beside him, cupping his flushed cheek in one hand. “You don’t have to take one. But if you don’t… you’ll need help riding it out.”
Minho nodded, eyes wide.
“You want my help?” Mn asked, thumb brushing along the edge of Minho’s jaw.
Minho whispered, “Please.”
"You want my cock?" Mn asked in a deep whisper, leaning in close. "P-Please, Sir~" "Alright, Kitty." Mn said, kissing the corner of his lips.
A few minutes later, Minho was trembling under Mn’s touch.
Not from fear but anticipation. Heat. Every nerve ending humming with need.
Mn kissed down his chest slowly, letting Minho undress at his own pace, helping when Minho’s fingers shook too hard. Minho’s body was plush in the thighs, soft in the hips, slick already dripping between his folds as Mn coaxed his legs open.
“You’re gorgeous, kitten,” Mn murmured, kissing the inside of one knee. “My sweet baby. Gonna take care of you.”
Minho mewled, high-pitched and needy, hips canting upward as Mn licked into his heat with broad, deliberate strokes. He cried out when Mn sucked gently on his clit, hips trembling, slick coating his inner thighs.
“So sensitive, so sweet,” Mn groaned, voice strained with restraint. “You want my cock, baby? Want me to fill you up?”
Minho’s eyes were watery. “Please, I need it~ I need you inside-”
Mn pressed in slow. Inch by inch into slick heat. Stretching him, warming him, watching Minho’s mouth fall open in helpless pleasure.
“That’s it,” Mn breathed. “So good for me, kitten. Taking it all, aren’t you, baby?”
Minho sobbed and nodded, wrapping his legs around Mn’s waist. “Yours. Only yours.”
“Mine,” Mn growled, thrusting deep and slow. “My kitten. My sweet boy.”
Their bodies moved together like a wave. Minho arching, gasping, moaning Mn’s name in whimpers. Mn held him close, his left hand bracing himself next to Minho's hip. Minho's tail wrapped around that arm, Mn's hand gently closing around the limb and pulling slightly right as he thrusted deep and Minho yelped with a moan as his tail tightened around Mn's arm.
“Do it, baby,” Mn groaned, right hand reaching down to thumb at his clit. “Let me feel you.”
Minho came hard, clenching around Mn’s cock, crying out so sweetly Mn nearly followed him then and there. But he didn’t. He slowed down, rocked through the aftershocks, and waited until Minho was clinging again, needing more, needing filled, needing all of Mn.
And he gave it to him. Again. And again. Until Minho was limp and fucked-out in his arms, still purring between hiccupped breaths.
Aftercare was everything.
Warm cloths. Soft praise. Water with a straw. A hoodie pulled gently over Minho’s body while Mn tucked blankets around him and ran slow fingers over his scalp.
“You okay, sweetheart?” Mn whispered.
Minho nodded weakly, curling closer into Mn’s chest. “Feels like I’m floating.”
Mn chuckled. “That’s the oxytocin. You’re high on cuddles.”
Minho giggled, purring louder. “…I love you.”
Mn blinked. Then kissed his forehead, long and slow.
“I love you too, kitten. More than anything.”
Weeks later, Minho wore Mn’s scent like a crown. He nosed at his collar when they hugged. Wore his t-shirts like dresses. Let Mn scent his collar with a deep kiss to the side of his throat.
They started calling each other partners. Then lovers. Then mates.
And every so often, Minho would ask with a quiet, fluttering look, “Still yours?”
Mn would kiss him breathless every time.
“Forever.”
I do hope this is acceptable. Don't know what it is but hey it's boy puss, can't say no to that
Jeongin and reader take revenge after Seungmin teased them after that time in the hotel. They muzzle and blindfold their puppy, then tease him to the brink and use him until he breaks, only to love him back together again.
It had started with nothing but a grin.
A spark in your eye that Jeongin caught beside you as Seungmin dozed on his shoulder in the van, the silent click of a link on your phone screen.
Jeongin leaned in beside you, chin on your shoulder as you tapped 'Add to Cart.'
The muzzle arrived in a small matte-black box. Sleek. Silent. Heavy with promise.
That night, Seungmin didn’t suspect a thing-until his wrists were bound and cuffed behind his back, his vision swamped in silk, and the cool bite of leather pressed against his jaw.
“Wha- what the fuck is this?”
You straddled his lap slowly, lips brushing the shell of his ear. “You don’t get to ask questions tonight, puppy.”
The straps cinched tight. The muzzle sealed his mouth open just enough to drool, just enough to whine. Soft padding pressed into the corners of his lips. He strained against the cuffs, already hard, already leaking, the humiliated flush rising to his cheekbones like wildfire.
Jeongin knelt between Seungmin’s thighs, slow and deliberate as he slid the blindfold off, revealing not freedom, but punishment.
Across from him, on the bed, you were already moaning into Jeongin’s mouth, riding his fingers like you were made for it. Your thighs trembled, your chest heaved. Jeongin’s wrist flexed with every slick twist inside you, long fingers curling just right to make your spine arch beautifully.
Seungmin choked behind the muzzle. His cock twitched between his legs, flushed dark and angry.
You turned your head toward him, panting.
“Poor thing,” you cooed, breathless. “Just has to sit there and watch.”
Jeongin’s fingers slipped free from your hole, coated in glistening slick. He licked them slowly, eyes locked on Seungmin’s. “Might drool through that muzzle, pup. Careful not to make a mess.”
The next time Jeongin slid into you, it was with purpose, thick and veiny and slow, parting you open with a stretch that made your thighs quake. You moaned, loud and unashamed, hands scrambling at his chest as you rode him with shallow little bounces that made wet sounds echo in the room.
Seungmin’s eyes were wild, glassy, bloodshot, burning with need and betrayal. Every growl from behind the muzzle sounded wetter, needier. His hips flexed as if trying to fuck the air.
“Look at you,” you purred, slowing your grind just enough to feel the textured ridges of Jeongin’s cock drag across your rim with every roll. “You’re the one tied up and we’re the ones getting off.”
“Let him watch,” Jeongin muttered, gripping your waist tighter, grabbing your chin to turn you away from Seungmin. “That’s all he’s good for tonight.”
You came like that, high, breathless, choking Jeongin’s name while your hole pulsed tight around him and your cum painted your own stomach and Jeongin's chest in lazy spurts. Jeongin followed after with a groan, burying himself to the hilt, cock throbbing as he filled you with warmth.
You collapsed forward, panting into Jeongin’s shoulder, and turned your head just enough to see Seungmin shaking.
You and Jeongin moved slowly, carefully. The muzzle staying on. You uncuff Seungmin and helped him stumble toward the bed, each limb heavy with restraint-drunk fatigue and pent-up arousal. The pillows went under his hips, raising him perfectly, his back flush to the sheets, arms trembling, cock twitching helplessly against his stomach, still untouched.
Jeongin pressed a hand against Seungmin's chest. “Stay just like this, pup.”
You helped him settle, shifting him gently until his hips stayed up in the pillows, his shoulders flat, his thighs spread wide. The pillows lifted his pelvis up beautifully, perfect for being filled and used from both ends.
You straddled his waist again, reaching behind to line him up, and slowly, achingly slowly, sank down onto his cock.
The stretch made your breath catch. He was thick, hot and desperate, twitching beneath you, and the feeling of being filled again had your walls clenching tight around him.
He whined desperately behind the muzzle.
Every ridge of him dragged along your inner walls as you adjusted. His tip kissed deep inside you, raw and intimate and too much but perfectly nudging your prostate.
You sigh with a small moan then leaned forward, hands braced on his chest. “Shhh, shhh. Feel good, baby?”
He nodded, violently.
Jeongin was already behind you, slicked and stroking. He bent down and spit onto Seungmin’s hole, spreading it with his fingers.
Seungmin moaned again, something garbled and ruined.
Jeongin’s cock was thick and heavy, the flushed head pressing against Seungmin’s hole as he lined himself up and pushed.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t meant to be.
Seungmin’s back arched violently, body caught between the slow grind of your hips and the firm stretch of Jeongin’s cock forcing its way in. The slick, wet sound of it, his hole sucking him in inch by inch, was obscene.
“You’re taking him so well,” you whispered, rocking your hips slowly, your own walls fluttering around Seungmin’s cock. “Such a good little hole for our Innie.”
Jeongin groaned. “So fucking tight. Puppy likes being used, huh?”
Seungmin’s hands clawed uselessly at the sheets. His legs trembled. His chest was red, soaked with sweat. He sobbed behind the muzzle as Jeongin bottomed out, cock pressed so deep you could see it in his expression.
The two of you moved together, one above, one below, using Seungmin simply like a toy with extra limbs and lots of tears and drool. His body jostled between you, cock pulsing helplessly inside your hole while Jeongin fucked into him in long, powerful strokes.
You didn’t look at him.
You looked at each other, you looking back over your shoulder to see Jeongin and leaning up enough to only balance on one hand which was pressed into the mattress next to Seungmin's ribs.
You and Jeongin, smirking, moaning, you occasionally kissing over Seungmin’s trembling form but also treating him like he was just a surface to fuck across. A dumb, needy toy for your pleasure, just a hole and a dick to use.
“Such pretty little whimpers,” Jeongin panted, fucking harder. “Wish I could hear him beg.”
“He doesn’t need to beg,” you growled, body tight with pleasure. “He’s just a dumb dog.”
Seungmin’s body seized beneath you. He came without permission. Cumming hard, shaking, cock pumping hot ropes of cum into you as you ground down on him with a moan and a small squeal. He sobbed through the orgasm, the muzzle catching the sound, his hole clenching hard around Jeongin, practically milking.
But you didn’t stop. Neither of you did.
You used him through it.
Only once Jeongin came, thrusting deep one last time with a strangled groan, filling Seungmin’s hole until slick dripped from him down to the sheets did you both still.
You leaned forward, nose brushing Seungmin’s cheek, and kissed the wet edge of his muzzle.
“Breathe,” you whispered.
He did. Shaky. Wrecked.
The muzzle came off slowly. The straps creaked. His lips were trembling - wet with spit and tears, red and bitten from how hard he must’ve been pressing his tongue against them.
His first word was a croaked, “Fuck…”
You kissed his temple.
“Still hate us?” Jeongin asked softly.
“…yes,” he whispered, eyes closed. “…maybe.”
Aftercare came slow, warm, and full of reverence.
Jeongin wiped every drop of cum from his chest, from your thighs once you leaned up on your knees after Seungmin slipped out of you, from his own skin. You held Seungmin’s hand beside his head, balancing as Jeongin wiped, and Seungmin blinked up at you, boneless and pliant as your free hand gently played with his tongue that stuck out instinctively, mouthing at your fingers like a dog waiting for praise.
“I’m here,” you murmured, brushing the hair from his eyes with your other hand. “I’ve got you.”
“Gonna keep me?” he whispered when you pulled your fingers back slightly, voice cracking.
“Always.”
HAPPY FRIEND-AVERSARY, @succubus-hansol !!!!!
Can't believe it's already been a year. This was really fun to read and I hope it meets what you were looking for 😁
Imma go pass out for a nap now (BTW I wrote this on May 3rd lol)
The camera stayed steady even after they finished, catching the slow drip of cum leaking from between Minho’s pretty thighs, catching the way his chest heaved, flushed and gleaming with sweat.
Minho shivered, his whole body thrumming, overstimulated and trembling, but instead of pulling away, he whimpered softly under his breath.
“Need more~ S-So fucking good~”
The words were barely audible, just a cracked little whisper against the heavy air.
Mn’s breath hitched behind the camera.
In two seconds, he reached out with one hand, still filming, and brushed Minho’s hair back from his sticky, sweat-covered forehead.
Minho looked up at him, glassy-eyed, still panting.
Desperate.
Waiting.
That was all it took.
Mn clicked the camera off with a soft beep, tossing it aside onto the mattress without a second thought.
This wasn’t for the viewers anymore.
This was just for Minho.
Mn moved fast, grabbing Minho by the waist, flipping him easily onto his stomach knowing Minho loved when he was handled, manhandled, like Mn couldn’t help himself.
Minho whimpered again, grinding back instinctively, wiggling his ass, still leaking, still desperate.
“I got you, baby,” Mn murmured low against Minho’s ear, his hands already smoothing down his hips, spreading him open.
He didn’t need to ask what Minho liked.
He knew.
He knew the way Minho’s breath hitched when a thumb brushed over his fluttering rim, scooping the leaking cum up and pushing it back inside Minho.
He knew Minho wanted it slow at first -- teasing, stretching, making him squirm -- and then rough, deep, until he was shaking and crying again.
Mn worked him open with slow, slick fingers, dragging soft, high sounds out of Minho’s throat.
Mn growled under his breath, switching to his middle and ring finger then pushing in deep and curling his fingers just right -- not watching personally the way he always saw Minho fall apart on camera -- and Minho sobbed, clenching around nothing after Mn pulled his fingers out.
“You’re so good for me,” Mn praised, pressing kisses down Minho’s spine. “Always so pretty, so perfect, fuck Min—”
Minho was already crying softly, pressing his face into the sheets, overwhelmed but greedy for it.
And when Mn finally lined his thick head with Minho's hole, he slid back inside -- firm, hot, steady, quick to the hilt -- Minho let out the sweetest, filthiest moan, arching back to take it.
“Theeere~ you go, baby, mm~” Mn crooned, setting a slow, deep rhythm. “Open up for me, slut. Let me fill you up again.”
Minho could only nod helplessly, gasping at every roll of Mn’s hips, every grind against that spot inside him Mn knew better than anyone.
It didn’t take long.
Between Mn’s dirty praise and his perfect, devastating pace, Minho was falling apart again -- so sensitive he couldn’t even move let alone stroke himself without whining.
“Hngh~ so good- ah~ s-so good, Mnie~ Ah Fuck, Hyung, Shi—” he slurred, out of his mind, babbling sweet filthy nonsense as he rocked back to meet every thrust.
And when he finally came again -- clenching tight, crying out brokenly into the sheets -- Mn fucked him through it, filling him up once more, making sure the mess they’d make would drip down his thighs for hours.
Minho was wrecked, trembling, glowing.
Mn gathered him up afterward -- whispering soft praise against his ear, stroking his sides, kissing his flushed, ruined body — holding him close until the shaking stopped.
He didn’t need a camera to remember this.
He’d memorize it all.
Minho, ruined and radiant.
Minho, whispering for more even when he could barely move.
Minho, made to be his.
Mn stayed buried deep inside him, not moving, just holding him close, letting Minho ride the aftershocks, letting the heat and fullness lull him down.
Minho shivered once, whining softly under his breath, and Mn kissed his shoulder, murmuring low:
“Gonna keep you full all day, baby,” he whispered against his skin. “Gonna make sure you feel me every time you move.”
Minho let out a tiny, broken noise at that, cock giving a weak little twitch just at the words alone.
But he was too exhausted to do anything else -- body boneless, mind hazy and floating.
Warmth bloomed deep in his belly, not just from the fullness, but from the comfort of it.
Of being held, of being cared for, of being loved so quietly and completely.
And maybe it was the exhaustion.
Maybe it was the way Mn’s cock was still pressed so deep inside him, stretching him perfectly, heavy and thick and there.
But Minho’s eyes fluttered closed, and he let himself sink into the feeling.
The deep, comforting pressure inside him.
The lingering, messy warmth leaking around the thick plug of Mn’s cock.
The faint, obscene image flickered behind his heavy eyelids:
his belly stretched just slightly, bulging prettily around Mn’s size.
Exactly like he’d fantasized about late at night, long before either of them ever crossed the line.
Minho blushed faintly even as sleep dragged him under.
He would never admit it out loud.
Would never tell Mn that he used to touch himself thinking about this exact feeling — about being stuffed so deep and full he could see it, feel it, dream it.
No, he would keep that secret tucked away, even as he drifted off with Mn’s cock still seated inside him, perfectly filling him, keeping him safe and warm.
camboy!minho and cameraman! reader who records him so fucking perfectly, getting every pretty curve of his body….that's why Minho has so many fans…it's not just like…a "male gaze" porn. it's very beautiful, the way it's filmed. one day, fans are surprised to see Minho riding a dick instead of his usual dildos. his beloved cameraman's dick which he did not realize was so big.
thoughts?
My thoughts? Love it, here's a thing, I'm sorry for starving y'all.
Minho had always been the star.
Perfect lighting, perfect framing, perfect touch.
But behind every arch of his back, every breathy moan captured in crystal clarity, was Mn, the man who worshiped Minho through the lens.
Mn made sure the world saw Minho the way he did: something divine, too pretty to belong to anyone but still generous enough to share a glimpse.
His videos weren’t cheap. They didn’t look like every other shaky, pornographic mess flooding the internet.
Minho’s room was dim and golden, the sheets rumpled just so, the camera steady and low, catching the slow trail of his fingers over his stomach, the teasing grind of his hips. He always looked like he was making love to himself, not just fucking around.
Fans noticed.
They obsessed.
“The way this is filmed… it feels like he’s touching me.”
“Minho’s videos are on another level. It’s like he knows I’m watching.”
And in a way, he did.
Minho played directly to Mn’s camera, looking into the lens with half-lidded eyes, murmuring soft, broken sounds that felt like they were meant for the viewer alone. The illusion was perfect.
Until the night it cracked, gloriously.
The video dropped with no teaser.
Just a title: “Something special tonight.”
It started familiar. Minho was stretched out on the bed, lazy and loose, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt hanging off one shoulder. His thighs were bare, skin kissed by warm, golden light.
He toyed with himself first, slow, lazy strokes, teasing the viewers the way he always did. His mouth parted in soft, deliberate moans, the tips of his fingers brushing down his chest, his stomach, trailing dangerously lower.
The camera was perched low, catching every ripple of movement. Mn’s steady hands kept the focus tight, intimate. It felt like you were right there, kneeling at the edge of the bed, watching Minho slowly fall apart.
Then...a shift.
Minho’s gaze flickered offscreen, coy, lips curling into a sly smile as he curled his finger off camera.
A large hand entered the frame, trailing along Minho’s thigh.
The chat exploded.
“WTF WHO IS THAT”
“IS IT THE CAMERAMAN?!”
“OH MY GOD"
Minho giggled breathlessly, voice pitched higher with excitement.
“Mm, missed this,” he purred.
And then- without ceremony, without warning - The hand pulled back and the camera moved as a body laid next to Minho and Minho climbed into a straddle as the camera settled to Minho hovering over a cock.
Not a toy.
Real. Thick, flushed, veined.
Minho rocked his hips experimentally, dragging his length over the bigger one under him, pretty pink lips parting around a shuddering gasp as he shifted onto his knees and guide the tip to his prepped hole. His thighs quivered with the effort of taking it all, the curve of his ass perfect in the low lighting.
Mn kept filming, the angle just right, focused on where Minho was slowly, beautifully, sinking down, his body struggling to take it all, even getting closer as Minho leaned back, braced on Mn's knees so the camera caught every inch sliding into Minho. Minho's breath hitched. His fingers clutched at the knees under his hands for balance as he gasps.
Minho moaned, high and breathy, throwing his head back before catching himself and giggling brokenly. “Fuck, it’s s-so much…” he whined, looking back at the camera like he was confessing a secret. “Fucking me so good…”
There was something so intimate about the way Minho whimpered Mn’s name under his breath, not loud enough for most to catch unless they listened closely.
“Can you hear it?” he gasped, voice trembling as he lifted up only to sink back down with a wet, obscene sound. “Can you hear how messy you make me?” He whimpered, rolling his hips faster, thighs quivering under the strain. “Feels so fucking deep…” Minho sobbed, sitting up as his hand splaying against his own stomach as if trying to feel it from the outside, other hand bracing himself on Mn's hip. “You’re so big… God, I- ngh~” he broke off in a moan, trembling.
“Fuck.” He choked out then, voice even breathier, even sweeter, he managed a soft, shaky, broken giggle and gasped:
"Shit, F-feels like you’re in my f-fucking throat…Ah~”
The viewers were absolutely feral.
“HE SAID WHAT????”
“I AM ON MY KNEES RN”
“IMAGINE BEING THE ONE UNDER HIM HOLY FUCK”
The angle stayed tight, mostly POV -- as if the watcher was underneath Minho, feeling his thighs tighten around their waist, watching him desperately grind down, trying to take more, more, more.
And then, a moment so raw it almost felt private.
Minho’s hand shot out and gently tilted the camera up and off to the side, just slightly. Enough that it caught the edge of his face as he leaned down.
For a moment, it looked like Minho was kissing the viewer -- lips soft, needy, desperate, slick -- but if you paid attention, you’d see he was kissing Mn.
Soft and messy and full of want, hips still rolling against him, taking every inch deeply.
The camera, despite its new angle, caught everything. The tremble in Minho’s body, the way his hands fisted against Mn’s chest, the soft, broken whimpers between kisses. He moaned into Mn’s mouth or against his lips, thighs trembling from the stretch, his whole body alight with need as he practically squealed at the feeling of Mn practically in his stomach.
So fucking deep
It was so much more than just a performance now.
It was real.
Messy, sweaty, sweet.
Minho didn’t even bother finishing on camera the way he usually did, he honestly forgot about the camera cause he was so focused on Mn's cock rearranging him. He just clung to Mn, riding slow and needy, until he was gasping out Mn’s camera name, Director. Almost as desperate as if Minho called him "Master" or "Daddy", and shuddering through his orgasm, trembling all over.
Mn was steady the whole time. The camera stayed steady, trembling just slightly from Mn’s ragged breathing, moving to focus perfectly between Minho’s spread thighs.
Minho was wrecked and stretched wide.
Flushed pink, chest heaving, body still twitching from aftershocks as thick, sticky mess spilled out of him, leaking slow and filthy down his stomach.
The mic picked up everything. The soft, broken whines Minho let out, the wet, obscene sounds of their bodies still clinging together and Minho shifted ever so slightly before lifting off of Mn's cock with an obscene moan.
“Fu-uck-ing…Shit~ ” Minho breathed, voice cracked and sweet.
He shifted lazily, reaching a trembling hand down between his legs after he fell back down, Mn's thick length nestled behind Minho between his cheeks.
The fans would lose their minds.
He scooped two fingers through the copious amount of sticky mess dripping out of him, so thick and so much, lifting it up to the camera, letting it glisten in the low light.
“Made me so messy, Director…Made me so full, fuck~” Minho whispered, a slow, wicked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, all breathless sweetness, all filth.
Still panting, he lazily stroked his dripping fingers down his oversensitive cock, smearing his own mess and Mn's mess across himself, making himself even slicker, even dirtier, stickier.
Another soft, high whimper left his mouth -- perfect, broken -- as his hips gave a tiny, involuntary roll and he sighs breathlessly as he unintentionally pushes Mn's cum out of him, spilling over Mn's abdomen.
And then, without breaking eye contact with the lens, Minho licked his hand clean, slow, languid swipes of his tongue, a slow suck as he pulled his fingers out, savoring it, showing off every second.
The camera caught it all:
The way his lashes fluttered low.
The way his thighs trembled, still dripping.
The way he murmured, half to himself, half to the viewers:
“Tastes so fucking good~”
Then after that, no usual playful, no purred out "goodbye~ Pervs". No wink to the camera. Just Minho, ruined and happy, finally letting himself be seen for real before the video ends.
The comment section lit up with chaos:
“He kissed the camera… no he kissed HIM…”
“You can see how much they love each other wtf.”
“I’ve watched this 10 times I’m not okay.”
“THE CAMERAMAN HAS A HUGE DICK I REPEAT-”
And Minho?
He didn’t say a word for days.
Just posted a cryptic tweet three days later:
“Might start filming from a new perspective now. Hope you don’t mind.”
I hope this is okay. Sorry I've been MIA 🥺 I swear I'm alive, I promise, just kinda been...bleh 😅
