warnings: y/n has a vulva. power play, begging, oral (both giving and receiving), cockwarming, spanking, slapping, pinching, rough sex, piss play, orgasm denial, overstimulation, shoe humping and licking, i.n’s part can read as dubcon, but this is part of a pre-established dynamic. not proofread.
this is pure fiction for entertainment purposes only. minors dni.
bang chan
you might call him old fashioned, but chan really can appreciate a good old spanking.
there’s just something about having you over his lap, the tender skin of your backside warming up under his palm when its harsh strikes make your blood rush. something about the way you squirm and wiggle, but to no avail, there’s no escape when the fingers of chan’s other hand keep your hands crossed at your wrists behind your back. something about the way your voice shakes when you count every slap out for him, breathless and wound up, interrupted by quick gasps for air and then finally - a moan.
chan can’t stop himself from fingering you right after that, releasing your wrists in favor of digging the pads of his boney fingers into your spongey walls while his other hand soothes over your abused ass over and over again. it’s easy for both of you to get lost in this - the lingering sting of chan’s merciless treatment of your ass contrasting the indulgent pampering of your aching cunt leaves you dizzy and chan can’t get enough of the sounds you make for him, unabashedly desperate as he winds you up to your release.
make sure to not cum without his permission though, unless you’re ready to restart counting your spanks.
leeknow
he likes to go for the more mentally draining and - sorry for the wording but - unhinged punishments.
minho’s favorite is probably to have you kneeling for him with a clothespin on your tongue, reciting his rules back to him as slowly and clearly as you can. you sound ridiculous with the pin hindering your ability to articulate and you can’t help but drool pathetically the more you try to enunciate for him.
minho looks so mean when he looks down on you like that and you have to avert your gaze because of the shame and arousal you feel from just being beneath him. it takes a while, but sooner or later you feel yourself going all mindless and floaty, eyes closed as you listen to minho’s steps circling you, still trying to repeat his rules back to him, to be good. minho kneels down to your height when he considers your job well done, one hand resting on your thigh, the other removing the clothespin from your numbing tongue with diligent fingers. you wince when he runs his fingers over the sore muscle and minho’s eyes sparkle.
“aww, are you sensitive? i’ll give you some medicine for that,” he promises with a devious lilt in his words.
he gets up unceremoniously and unbuckles his pants and you obediently keep your mouth open for him, numb but oh so inviting, ready to take whatever reward - or additional punishment - minho is willing to give you.
changbin
i feel like it actually takes a while to get changbin to the point that he truly feels like he needs to discipline you. it takes a day or maybe even two of consistent bratting and selfishness until you finally see that gleam in his eye when he tilts his head at you disapprovingly and you know that you finally got to him.
changbin asks you if you’ve forgotten the most basic training, musing that he needs to start it all over and go back to the very first thing he taught you: sucking dick. changbin is way harsher in his throat training now than he was when you started sleeping together. now that he knows just what you can take he has no reservations pinching your nose closed between his fingers and jerking his hips against your face until you gag for him. changbin groans that he’s close and he pulls out when you get ready to swallow, jerking off into his palm with quick, firm strokes until his release streaks his cupped palm white. your throat is sore but you can’t help letting out a sassy remark to hide the disappointment of not getting to swallow his cum this time. “what? was that my punishment?” you giggle.
“no,” changbin smiles. “this is.”
you don’t even get a second process this before he’s slapping you across the face with his cum, the impact stinging more than it actually hurts you. as your now sticky cheek flushes in the aftermath, it doesn’t take long for the rest of your body to heat up from the humiliation blooming just beneath your skin.
“what?” changbin challenges, mimicking your bratty attitude from before. “aren’t you gonna say thank you?”
hyunjin
as your dom, hyunjin can be strict and he can be demanding - but he would never outright punish you.
why would he? both of you know that he’s above getting his hands dirty to discipline you, especially when he can just make you do it yourself.
whenever you misbehave you can already tell that hyunjin is displeased with your antics, but it doesn’t quite show until the next time you get intimate, when you’re already naked and ready for him, lips swollen from his hungry kisses and cunt dripping with the desperate need for hyunjin’s undevided attention. “you know what you did, baby, don’t you?” hyunjin mumbles and that’s your sign. he wants you telling him exactly what you did wrong, that you understand why it was wrong. then he wants you begging for forgiveness while humping his shoe. if you cum then that’s your problem, both of you know you’re not giving your swollen clit a break until hyunjin accepts your apology. you know that moving away only makes hyunjin press the sole of his boot against your harder, so you accept your fate and obediently move your drippy cunt over the shiny leather just for him.
you can try not to make too much of a mess of hyunjin’s expensive shoes all you want while you’re at it, but you know hyunjin will make you clean up after yourself regardless.
han
one word: overstimulation.
you’re still giggling when jisung cuffs your wrists to the headboard, the dissatisfied crease between his eyebrows not deterring you at all from you delighting in the fact that everything is going your way. it almost feels like a reward when jisung situates himself between your legs, resting your thighs on his shoulders.
“i don’t want to hear another sound out of you,” he huffs and it’s only then when dread begins to set in. because even with the countless times you’ve had the luxury of being at the receiving end of your boyfriend’s talented tongue you cannot remember a single instance where he hasn’t reduced you to a moaning mess within mere minutes. there’s no time to brace yourself when jisung’s soft tongue meets your cunt, gently parting your folds before swirling an indulgent circle around your clit, already sensitive and swollen in your excitement. you sink your teeth into your bottom lip and roll your hips up against jisung’s face, a silent plea for him to continue despite your self-control already slipping with just one touch. it doesn’t take him long to get you on the brink of your first orgasm, sucking and licking at you just the way you need him to with the most obscene sounds that only add to your arousal somehow.
you try to hold it together, try to keep yourself from humping against his face in desperate anticipation, try to not moan out it pleasure and agony. it’s a lost battle when jisung renews his efforts between your thighs, two fingers slipping into your sopping cunt and curling upwards, tongue swirling over your clit at a rapid pace that has sparks of please shooting sll throughout your body. “jisung,” you gasp, any worries about the consequences of the smallest sound thrown out the window. “please.”
his indulgence is almost threatening. jisung - usually so teasing, so slow - just keeps up his pace for you, your pussy squelching around his digits as he keeps curling them into you, tongue flattening against your pulsing clit until your orgams crashes over you, tingly and strong.
“two more,” jisung grins while you’re still clenching around his fingers, trying to come down from your high. you can’t help but whimper in response.
“make it three.”
felix
he doesn’t like punishing you, he tells you adamantly, his deep voice sweet like syrup. doesn’t like punishing you at all but now he’ll have to, won’t he? he’s spoilt you too much, given you too many liberties, too much time to form your own selfish thoughts in your silly little head. thoughts that - much to his chagrin - aren’t centered around how much you need him. felix needs to remind you of your place, he fears. that’s why he has to punish you, despite how much he swears up and down he hates seeing you like this.
and so felix makes you edge the whole day, has you send him pics and videos of your arousal coating your fingers and staining your underwear, but never giving you permission to bring yourself over the edge and fully soil your underwear for him. he has you touch yourself in public restrooms and under your desk at work, anywhere you can get away with staying on the edge without getting caught. and then, finally, when you come home to him felix edges you for him some more. first with tender touches of the tips of his fingers, then the teasing flick of his tounge, and finally with just the tip of his cock, shallowly fucking himself in and out if your tight entrance while he makes you play with your aching clit some more, catching your wrist in one hand whenever you get too frantic.
it’s only when he sees tears brimming at your lash line and you insist you’ll never take an orgasm granted again through gritted teeth, that felix deems it a lesson well learned and finally grants you release. and the orgasm that crashes over you like a tidal wave after anticipating it for an entire day makes the torture worth it.
seungmin
another dom that likes to consider himself a fan of the classics.
you’ve forgotten a specific rule of his? he’ll have you writing it out over and over again for up to an hour to see if maybe some repetition will ger it into your head.
you’re not just writing lines of course. you’re also sitting pretty in his favorite skirt, perched in seungmin’s lap with your panties pushed to the side and his thick cock buried between your slick walls.
seungmin doesn’t let you move, even the slightest shift earns you a warning slap to your cheek. he might play with your clit a bit, just to throw you off, harshly laughing at you when your pen slips on the paper or his sudden touch causes you to misspell a word. it’s so clear that seungmin is getting off on this just as much as you are, his cock hard and throbbing inside of you whenever you ask him to let you stop writing, you swear you’ve learned your lesson and you’ll be good now. but he still doesn’t budge until at least an hour has past.
you’ll just have to keep cockwarming seungmin until he decided he can’t take it anymore and fucks you over the table right then and there. seungmin doesn’t care if the ink hasn’t dried yet when he holds your head down against the table, the other hand finding leverage at your waist as he pistons his hips against your ass at a relentless pace, still repeating his rules to you when his cock bullies your cunt until you think you can feel him knocking at your cervix with all that force.
i.n
jeongin knows a little bit of denial, a tap on your ass or a stern talking to would never be enough to get a message across to a brat like you. no, jeongin has learned over the months and years that the only way to teach you a lesson is humiliation.
he keeps you guessing - and you wouldn’t have it any other way - you know you’re getting punished today, but you don’t know with what.
relization sets in soon enough when during a night of partying and drink after drink after drink you tell jeongin you’re going to the bathroom and he tells you “no”. it sets in further he tells you “no” again, until he finally takes you home only to push you up against the wall in your hallway, rough fingers finding their way into your jeans while his other hands presses against your bladder until you’re forced to release everything all over the tiled entryway in a mortifying reminder that jeongin still controls you.
realization sets in when drawn out foreplay turns into your hands cuffed to the headboard, desperate and needy, with the only release jeongin grants you is a pillow that he lets you hump your sopping cunt agaunst while he films your embarrassment for future use.
it sets in when a “you up?” text leads you to where jeongin is clocking in overtime at the studio with the sole mission to relieve his tension with some head, only to be greeted by the other members waiting for you with him, already half hard and ready to inflict their own punishments on you.
Summary: It’s Felix’s birthday, and every birthday boy deserves a birthday cake, don’t they? So you send him a picture of your “cake”, all wrapped up and pretty in lace. Shame that he’s out with the boys all day, and he won’t be home to taste his cake until later…might just have to send him more pictures to remind him what he could have, if he just came home a little early.
Poor Felix - it’s his birthday, how could you tease him like this? (not that he’s complaining when he gets to remind you to be good when he gets home)
Warnings: dom!Felix, sub!afab!reader, brat!reader, reader has a vagina and boobs this time guys I’m sorry, lingerie, sending nudes/suggestive content, swearing, penetration (reader receiving), edging, degradation, slight breeding kink
w.c.: 4.2K
– – –
Mass posting all of the birthday stuff (and the Changbin fic I’ve been working on for a couple weeks) is insane!! Sorry that I’ve become a content machine for the week…and with Seungmin’s birthday coming up, too, be expecting another little ficlet :) I hope you enjoy this one, and as always, feel free to send in any requests! The inbox is still open.
From: Jagiya
>Are you alone?
That’s the text that he gets from you, and, checking his screen again, it’s 10:12am. You knew that he was going to be out with Chan for “birthday brunch for the birthday boy” (Chan’s words, not his). You had even left him a brand-new watch on the nightstand with a little post-it note that read: “For your outfit today ♡ Love you, birthday boy!”
So your text was strange, for sure. Did you need him to be alone? Was something wrong? He peeked at Chan in line in front of him, who was engrossed too deeply in the menu to really be paying attention. He typed a quick message back:
From: Sunshine
>No? I’m out to brunch with Chan hyung.
From: Jagiya
>Good.
He waits a couple moments for you to say something else, but nothing comes through. He and Chan are at the front of the line now, so he pockets his phone, hoping you’ll have given him a less vague (and less oddly threatening) response by the time he orders his coffee and food.
“Don’t order anything too big, you’re getting lunch later with Ayen-ah and Seungmin-ah,” Chan reminds him.
“Okay appa.” Felix responds, teasing.
Chan rolls his eyes, but motions for him to order. He does, and then the battle of who gets to pay ensues (Chan wins, but Felix swears up and down that next time he won’t let Chan pay for him). Conversation is light and comfortable, as it always is with his hyung, and Felix forgets for a moment about your text.
But once they’ve got their food and drinks and settled down at a table, Felix pulls out his phone to check the time and sees a new message - rather, a few new messages from you. He smiles to himself, delighted to hear from you (even if you’re being strange).
From: Jagiya
>[3 attachments]
>A sneak peek of your present for later <3
He opens the messages expecting the usual birthday set-up from you: decorations, maybe a messy kitchen, hopefully a photo of you in the cute apron you always wear when you bake that makes him just a little bit feral.
Instead he’s greeted by you in a silken robe that’s just hanging off of your shoulder, a flash of beautiful blue lace peeking out from under it. He can almost see the curve of your chest, but the robe covers it just so, hiding how the lace probably frames it just right. You’re hiking the slit of the robe up with your hand that isn’t holding the camera, just hiding where he wants to see the most. There’s the smallest flash of the same blue lace peeking out there, just a hint of it, but your hand is placed deliberately: this is a tease, not a gift. It has his fingers curling into the jeans he’s wearing, jaw clenched tight.
“You okay, mate?” Chan says, snapping him out of his reverie.
“You look like you’re about to break your phone in half…or cry. It’s your birthday, if you’re thinking about work right now-”
“Says you,” Felix says, barely contained strain laced throughout his words, “And I’m fine. Just forgot to turn the stove off this morning, apparently. I just got a text about it.”
It’s a lie, and a flimsy one at that - why would Felix have the stove running this morning anyways? No need to cook, he was going out to brunch this morning, and you had forbidden him from making just about anything without you.
Chan catches this, too, squinting at him suspiciously, but he’s not going to push it, not when Felix’s ears are turning red. Had it been another day, he probably would’ve poked and prodded at him a little more, but it was Felix’s birthday. He had to be nice to him today.
“Whatever, mate,” Chan says, “Sounds like something you would do.”
Okay, maybe he didn’t have to be nice.
“Hey! I’m not that bad…”
– – –
The next time he receives an unprompted message from you is four hours later, when he’s at lunch with Seungmin and Jeongin. The younger two really went all out - a higher end restaurant, with a reserved booth in the back for privacy. Felix complained that they hadn’t warned him, and now he was severely under-dressed, but Seungmin had just stuck his tongue out at him.
“It would’ve ruined the surprise,” he had said.
“This lunch was a surprise, I knew it was happening!”
Now, lunch had fallen into an easy lull of conversation. The three of them really were very close in age, and it was easy for the conversation to descend into madness (in the best way possible). Felix very rarely smiled as big as he did with these two around.
His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it. They were waiting on their food still, so he had time to respond to whatever he was receiving.
He wasn’t ready for what he saw.
From: Jagiya
>are you ignoring me :(( that’s fine, i’ll just send these photos to someone else then.
>[4 attachments]
The robe is still in the first picture, spread under you like a canvas. You’re sprawled across the silk on the bed, one finger of your free hand teasing the strap of the lacy bra. The picture cuts off your lower half just below your belly button, so he can’t see the lace panties that you had teased him with earlier.
The rest of the photos are of a similar vein - all taken in a way that hides your lower half from him. It has him reeling, completely tuned out from whatever conversation Seungmin and Jeongin are trying to have with him. He’d feel bad if he wasn’t so obsessed with you in that pretty blue lace, his favorite shade of blue hugging the curve of your breasts just right. He can feel his cock stirring in his pants as he types his response, fingers angry and quick.
From: Sunshine
>don’t you dare.
>you know better than that, baby.
>stop sending me these now, or you’re going to regret it later.
Your typing bubble pops up immediately, and you’re quick to respond innocently, like you didn’t do anything wrong.
From: Jagiya
>Lixie!!!!!
>miss you already, baby :((
>you don’t like them? i took those photos just for you, though…
From: Sunshine
>i didn’t say that, jagiya.
>but you know better than to tease me when i’m in public. keep it up and you’ll be in trouble later.
From: Jagiya
>oooooh, so scary, sunshine!
>we’ll see how i’m feeling later <3 no promises though, Lixie!
He can hear you giggling through the screen, see the way your eyes are probably sparkling with mischief. It makes him smile, despite himself, and he shuts off his phone before he gets caught for not paying attention.
“Stop texting your partner and pay attention to us!” Jeongin whines, flopping his upper body dramatically on the table.
“You get all mushy when you text them,” Seungmin says, face scrunching up, “It’s gross. Don’t do that kind of stuff when I’m around.”
Well. So much for not getting caught.
– – –
The last time is when he finally breaks. You’d sent him a couple of other teasing messages after his lunch, but there hadn’t been any more photos (which he was grateful for - he wasn’t going to last the whole day if you had sent more photos of you in that little number). Just little things, telling him about how much you missed him…like that.
From: Jagiya [2:32pm]
>missing you, baby. missing how you feel between my legs
From: Jagiya [4:27pm]
>wish it was 7 already so you would be home. can’t cum without you anymore
>you ruined me
>don’t you feel bad? for ruining me like this, making me so desperate and pathetic for you
From: Jagiya [5:02pm]
>need you
>need you so so bad lixie
>im typinf with one hand rn
>bet you wish you could see
From: Jagiya [5:13pm]
>im soooo fucking wet it’s unbelievable
>shame my birthday boy isn’t home to taste his cake ;(
>it’s nice and moist for you
He always responded, patience thinning and thinning but always kind. Telling you he’ll be home in no time, that he can’t wait to see you, that he needs you to be good and wait for him, but God, were you making it hard. He can’t help but scroll up to the photos you already sent him when he gets the chance, phone angled away from the rest of his friends. He’s sure he looks so suspicious right now, readjusting his jeans over and over while glancing at his phone obsessively. He hates to admit it, but you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and he really does consider, for a moment, leaving early to go visit you in your apartment.
But then he’d be giving in to your bratiness, giving in to your teasing and taunting. You’ve been poking and prodding him all day, and he knows that he’s just a breath away from breaking down and reminding you of your place.
And that’s when his phone pings again, right at six o’clock on the dot. He knows it’s you - anyone else who’d be texting him is already in the room with him, chatting and hanging out. He feels so fucking pathetic, because they’re here to celebrate him, and all he can think about is leaving and burying his face between your legs and tasting you through those blue panties. He hasn’t actually seen them still, but he’s pictured them so many times in his mind he’s sure he knows what they look like, the way they hug your curves just right.
He opens the message tentatively, hoping it’s just more of your teasing words, but what he sees has his breath catching in his throat.
From: Jagiya
>[1 attachment]
>Cake in bed for the birthday boy <3
And damn it, it’s you, and he finally, finally catches a glimpse of those panties clinging to your ass. The photo is from behind, meaning you must have propped your phone up and set a timer for him. Your ass is high in the air, face buried in the sheets in front of you so he can’t see it. Your legs are propped up with, and you’ve got one hand pulling the panties taut against your body, showing a very graphic outline of your pussy against the lace.
He doesn’t hesitate to text you, lower lip caught between his teeth.
From: Sunshine
>don’t you DARE move.
>i’ll be home in 20. you’ll regret messing with me like this, angel.
He’s fumbling out of the room in seconds, throwing out half-assed excuses and apologies to his band members. He makes eye contact with Chan for only a moment, but the moment hangs long enough for him to realize that Chan knows. There’s something knowing in his eyes, and Felix realizes he must have connected the dots that his earlier behavior was linked to this. That he knew that you were involved. It made him flush a deep red, immediately breaking eye contact with his hyung and running out of the room.
He doesn’t remember the drive to your apartment. Not really. All he remembers is the friction of his jeans against his clothed cock, straining against the fabric, and how tight he had to grip the steering wheel to keep his hands off of it. He’s pulling in the driveway at record pace, and he’s flying up the stairs to your apartment, fingers finding his copy of your keys as he jogs up.
When he does get into your apartment he makes sure to be loud. He wants you to hear him, wants the anticipation to build until it breaks you, and you call out for him. He’s slow in his movements, locking the door carefully behind him. His shoes come off at a snail’s pace, keys dropping into the bowl by the door with a clank! You’re in the bedroom - he can see the yellow glow from your lamp lighting up the hallway. He’s shrugging off his jacket gently when he catches a quiet whimper, far off and echoing down the hallway. He can imagine the face you’re making right now, caught somewhere between being turned on and embarrassed to be so needy.
He wonders if you thought tonight would be a night where you’d be in control when you started sending those pictures and texts. He wonders if that’s why you were so bold - no repercussions if you’re the one in charge. But he’s the birthday boy, isn’t he? He deserves to take whatever he wants, it’s the least you can do for him after torturing him all day. He’s been patient, he really has.
His steps are slow and deliberate towards the bedroom, just heavy enough to echo a bit. Loud enough that he’s certain you’ve heard.
He’s proven right when you whine again, clearer this time now that he’s closer. Your breathing is loud, panting now, and the shadow you cast into the hallway is heaving, like it’s taking everything in your power to remember how to breathe at all.
It makes him harder, if that’s possible.
“Lix?” you call out, voice meeker than he’s ever heard it.
“‘s that you?”
He just chuckles, low and taunting, and your shadow arches a bit, falling across the hallway like a mural. He memorizes the blurry lines of it, obsessed with how, even in shadow form, you’re so beautiful and responsive for him. His pretty angel, all wrapped in lace and sin.
When he rounds the corner he has to stop for a second, unable to move when you look like that.
“God angel, you’re even prettier in person,” he rumbles, deep voice sending shivers down your spine, “Look so perfect wrapped up like this for me…shame you had to act like a slut all day.”
His voice dips impossibly lower when he calls you a slut, tone rough and mean. He doesn’t get any closer yet, and it makes you squirm. You know you weren’t good. Hell, you were deliberately not good, wanting him to come home and ruin you. But the way he says it now, the way he calls you a slut like it’s nothing? You know you’re in for a long night.
“You said something about birthday cake, didn’t you, angel?” he murmurs, moving in closer.
You feel like prey under his gaze, and it makes you shrink into yourself. He laughs, low and teasing, fingers teasing over the lacy edge of your panties. You’re soaking - having been for a while - and the center of the skimpy blue lace is so wet it’s a deeper blue, your arousal dripping down your thighs and onto the bedsheets below. You try not to arch into his touch, you really do, but when his fingers dip lower, running up your slit, you can’t help the way you bend into his touch. It pulls a deep chuckle out of his chest, breathless and light, before you feel the bed dip behind you.
You don’t dare move, not when he’s like this. When Felix is in charge, there’s no fighting back, no being a brat. You just take what he gives you, no questions asked. You don’t even dare a glance back, too scared that he may just leave you like this, all wet and needy for him.
You feel his breath against your panties, right over where you need him, and it sends sparks up your spine, a shiver wracking your body before you can stop it. But he doesn’t care, big hands pushing your legs further apart before landing on your hips. You whimper when his tongue licks a fat stripe up your dripping cunt through the lace, like he’s too lazy to even make the effort to move them aside and expose your heat to the cool air.
He eats you out just like this, your face buried in the sheets and his hands controlling your hips, stopping you from bucking away when his tongue starts to be too much. And it really is too much, so wet and sloppy through the thin lace. He presses himself deep into your warmth, licking the dribbling wetness from your thighs like a man starved. Sometimes when he’s eating you out, you think he might get more out of it than you do, especially when he gets like this. He eats you like there’s nothing but this left to live for. It’s obscene, and the coil in your stomach is already winding tight.
He bites down harshly on your clit through the fabric, teeth unkind in their touch, and your arms collapse under you, a silent scream tearing from your throat. He keeps abusing your clit, moving a hand to thumb at it while he presses his tongue into your through the panties, and you can’t form coherent thoughts anymore. You’re babbling, but you can’t really hear it. Everything but the slick sounds echoing from where your cunt and his mouth meet fades into static, your brain unable to focus on anything but the pleasure he’s giving you.
You vaguely hear yourself warning him that your orgasm is coming, and everything is winding tighter and tighter-
Until he pulls away completely.
You scream out a sob, voice hoarse and broken from sounds you don’t even really remember making. You’re frantic, trying to buck back into his touch, but he just lets out a tsk, and it makes you whimper. You feel so pathetic under him like this, pleading wordlessly for something, anything but you can’t help it, not when you’re already so worked up.
“P-please, please, ‘m sorry for teasing earlier, I’m sorry!” you sob out, words finally back to you.
“I’ll do anything, anything, just-hic! please touch me? Please please please, I’ll be good for you now, I swear!”
“Anything?” he says, amusement laced in his tone. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, angel.”
He’s flipping you over with practiced ease, so strong it looks effortlessly. You realize that somewhere between him eating you out and him pulling away he’s lost his clothes, body on display in front of you. Your hands reach out instinctively, just wanting to run your hands down his body, but he swats them away, tone harsh.
“Brats who tease all day don’t get to touch.” he says, tone final.
“Hand above your head, and keep them there. You’ll take what I give you and only what I give you.”
You nod, not trusting your voice to even come out anymore. He grins at you, eyes half-lidded and swirling with lust. His hands move to spread your legs open again, slotting himself between them. He doesn’t take your panties off, just slides them to the side, pressing his hot cock against your waiting entrance. You suck in a harsh breath, eyes rolling back in your head when he ruts against you once, twice. His tip catches your entrance for a moment and it has you reeling, arousal gushing from you in waves.
“You don’t deserve this yet, you know…” he starts, trailing off.
Your eyes find him, wide and glassy and desperate, and he sighs like you’re such a pain. Like he isn’t leaking against you, precum dripping down his pretty length to mix with your arousal. He’s not very thick, but his cock is so long, curved up in a way that presses into your g-spot just right when he’s filling you up.
“Fine,” he huffs, rolling his eyes at you, “But only because it’s my birthday, and I deserve to treat myself today. Just lay there and take it like a good toy, m’kay?”
He’s pressing into you before you can even respond, and it punches a broken moan out of your throat. It just feels so fucking deep, his cock filling you up so far that you can’t breathe, air caught in your throat as he presses even deeper than you thought he could reach. You’re gasping, short little breaths, vision blackening around the edges.
But true to his word, this isn’t about your pleasure, your comfort. He picks up a punishing pace immediately, chasing his own release in the warmth of your walls. You’re still so tight every time, and Felix has to grit his teeth together to choke back the whimpers that claw at his throat. He lets out a low groan every once and a while, eyes never leaving you as he fucks into you like an animal. His head dips to your chest, and he’s mouthing at your chest through the lace of the bra, darkening it with his spit. The lace is thin, and he tugs on your nipple with his teeth through it, which has your whole body shaking, voice leaving your throat raw.
“Please, please, Lix, can’t, I-please!”
You’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore, tears streaming down your hot cheeks. You look absolutely wrecked, the remains of your makeup smeared across your cheeks and under your eyes. Felix thinks you look beautiful like this, when you can’t do anything but give yourself up to him. It makes him feel so damn lucky to have you like this, under him. It makes him fuck into your sex harder, teeth digging into your chest through the lace. He yanks his head back and the lace shreds, tearing off of your chest. If you weren’t drunk on his cock you’d complain, but he’s latched back onto your nipple so fast you can’t do anything but focus on him. It’s all teeth and tongue, marks sucked and bit into your skin so harshly it’s sure to leave a mark.
All it does is bring you closer to your impending edge this time. It’s so much sweeter this time, heat curling through every nerve in your body after your denied release. Your whole body feels electric, everything fading away but you and Felix, and the way he’s drilling into you like there’s no tomorrow.
“Fuck, so good, taking me like so perfect, angel,” he grunts, voice dipping even lower as he ruts into you.
“Keep clenchin’ around me-yeah, jus’ like that-shiiiit, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up.”
You whine out at that, eyes focusing enough to find his through your tears. He grins down at you, something feral hiding in his smile.
“You like that idea? Want me to fill you up, to claim you? Fuck a-shit-a baby into you? ‘s that what you wanted? Wanted to give me a baby for my birthday?”
“Fill me up, please, wanna-wanna feel you, ah! Wanna feel you fill me up-it’s shooo good, hrk! So fucking good, please please please! Want it, want your cum, want-mmph!”
He shuts you up with a kiss, all tongue and teeth and spit. It’s messy and gross, and it’s all it takes to push you over the edge, cunt pulsing around him. He pulls back with a deep groan, and his teeth dig into your neck as his release overtakes him. It hurts so good, and it sends you into another mini-orgasm, walls weakly fluttering and pulsing around him again. His teeth dig harder into your neck, hips bucking thrice before stilling, painting the deepest parts of you white with his cum. Your hands are still pressed above your head, and your whimpers are what pull him back to Earth.
“Can…can I touch you now?” you say tentatively, chest still heaving from your orgasm.
He barely gets to nod before your hands are flying to tangle with his hair, pulling his face down to kiss him. It starts with the mouth, but soon your hands are cupping his face, angling him so you can kiss all over his face. His cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids - nothing is safe from the gentle press of your mouth. You go until he’s giggling, cock still soft inside of you, and he can feel the way you’re smiling through your kiss.
You pull back, looking at him with so much fondness he thinks his chest might explode.
“Happy birthday, sunshine.”
“Best birthday ever!” he exclaims, collapsing into you.
“I’m glad,” you say with a tired chuckle, “Because I don’t think I’ll be moving for a while.”
“Sorry,” he mutters, very clearly not sorry, “Won’t happen again.”
“Liar.” you huff, but the warmth in your tone is impossible to hide.
He slips out of you with a hiss, and rolls off to the side of you, pulling you against his chest. You wrinkle your nose, trying to push away from him.
“I’m gross.” You say, struggling in his hold.
“Don’t say that about my partner,” is all you get in response, Felix pulling you closer, “Or we might have beef.”
“Who taught you the word beef?” you snort.
“I’m hip with the kids,” he huffs, clearly offended, “I’m the hippest, actually.”
“Sure, halfway fifty,” you say, “Keep telling yourself that.”
“Hey, you’re the one dating this ‘halfway fifty’ year old!”
“What can I say? I like myself a silver fox-”
“Alright, alright, that’s enough out of you!”
The laughter settles and you sigh into him, body worn. You’re fairly certain you might actually melt into the bed tonight, bones jelly and mind mush. But there’s nowhere you’d rather be than in Felix’s arms, so you settle down, letting his gentle breathing and warm embrace lull you to sleep.
I hope your enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated ♡
⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content. degradation, power play, light choking, semi-public fingering, light coercion (entirely consensual), dirty talk, wet panties, messy fingers, brat taming, felix is a fucking menace in a silk shirt
⍣ ೋ notes: changed the color!! idk if im burning out already but i decided to switch it up a bit just to see if it would make it better. kinda missing the pink already.
🧾 FORMAL INVESTIGATION REPORT
Filed by: ERROR
Subject: ERROR
Staff Member Under Review: ERROR
Guest Involved: ERROR
INT. SKZOTEL – CONFESSIONAL ROOM (A.K.A. MAINTENANCE CLOSET WITH A RING LIGHT)
[Camera clicks on.] Felix is already in frame, lounging sideways on a folding chair like he owns the place. His uniform is pristine, hat tilted a little too stylishly. In his hand, a crumpled guest complaint—folded once, then again, then probably kissed before he slipped it in his back pocket.
FELIX (grinning): "Okay, so technically... this was supposed to go to Aeryn."
He holds up the complaint letter between two fingers, like it's something precious. His grin widens.
FELIX: "But I may or may not check the internal submission box every morning before she gets in. You know—just to be helpful."
He leans in, eyes sparkling with mischief.
FELIX: "This one? Yeah, this one's about me. And look—before anyone starts pointing fingers, I was doing my job. I did help the guest with their luggage. I was polite, charming, responsible… bordering on adorable, honestly."
A beat. His smile turns wicked.
FELIX: "And maybe... just maybe I lingered. Just a little. But can you blame me?"
You didn’t think he’d actually read it.
The note was meant to be private.
Filed. Forgotten. Handled discreetly.
But now?
That unmistakable voice cuts through the spa corridor, slow and molten, thick with a smugness that curls heat right between your legs.
“Room 630,” Felix drawls behind you, syrup-sweet and scathing. “Is that what they’re calling you?”
You stop like you’ve been caught—and you have. You know that voice. That accent, dipped in honey and sin.
You turn slowly, spine straight, face schooled, but your heart’s already thundering.
And there he is.
The bellboy.
Leaning against the hallway wall like it belongs to him. Button-down loose, too many buttons undone, collarbone sharp, pretty smirk even sharper.
Your complaint’s in his hand.
Your complaint.
The one you slipped into the concierge box with trembling fingers.
His eyes are on you like he’s reading your mind.
“Didn’t even sign it,” he tsks, folding the paper once, twice—stuffing it casually into his back pocket. “Didn’t use my name. That’s rude, babe. I gave you so much to work with.”
He takes a step forward, slow and deliberate.
You take a step back, eyes flickering to his name tag.
“Felix—”
“Oh no,” he cuts you off smoothly, “you don’t get to say my name now. Not after this.”
Another step.
Your back hits the wall.
And suddenly he’s right there.
Crowding your space. Shadowing you. Hand against the wall beside your head.
His breath ghosts along your jaw as he leans in, tilting his head just enough to speak right into your ear.
“You think tattling makes you innocent?” he whispers. “You wrote me up, baby. Like a brat who didn’t get what she wanted. Like a needy little bitch too scared to ask for it.”
“I didn’t mean—”
“But you did.”
His hand skims down your waist, hot and possessive, just the barest tease of touch.
“Don’t lie to me. You knew exactly what you were doing. All those soft little looks, letting me carry your bags, ringing that bell like you wanted me on my knees.”
You gasp as his fingers dip under your dress, the brush of his knuckles ghosting your thigh.
“What was it?” he murmurs, voice low and wicked. “Was I too slow? Not flirty enough? Or were you just pissed I didn’t bend you over the cart right then and there?”
Your breath hitches. He feels it. Smiles.
“God, you did want it,” he laughs, cruel and soft. “Didn’t even bother hiding it. Could’ve just said, ‘please fuck me, Felix.’ Would’ve made this so much easier.”
His fingers slip beneath your panties, and you choke on a moan.
“Shit,” he groans, forehead pressing to yours. “Already soaked. You liked writing me up, huh? Got yourself wet filing a formal complaint like a desperate little whore.”
Your cheeks burn. He eats it up.
“Say it,” he whispers. “Say you got off on it.”
You look away. He grabs your chin and forces you back to him.
“I said—say it.”
“I—got off on it,” you breathe. “Wanted your attention.”
He laughs—a wicked, delighted sound.
“There she is. My needy little mess.”
He pushes two fingers in deep, no warning—so fast and smooth you swear your knees might give. The stretch is sudden, perfect, and he knows it, groaning right against your ear as you choke on a moan.
You gasp, back arching, thighs trembling.
“Ohhh, yeah,” he groans. “Tight little cunt. All this for me?”
“Felix—someone could—”
“Let them. Shit—listen to that,” he pants, pulling his fingers back just slightly. The obscene slick, wet squelch echoes in the quiet hallway, and he laughs, low and filthy. “That’s you, baby. That’s how bad you want me.”
He curls them, finding your spot with practiced ease—pressing, teasing, dragging along that sweet bundle of nerves over and over until you’re clawing at his shirt, thighs trembling around his wrist.
“You write me up,” he hisses, fucking you with slow, deliberate pumps. “You tattle on me. But your cunt’s telling me the truth.”
His thumb drags up, just brushing your clit. Barely a touch—but it’s enough to make your hips jerk, to make your breath stutter out in a pathetic little gasp.
“There she is,” he growls. “There’s my needy little girl.”
His fingers start moving faster—deep and rough, the perfect rhythm that makes your mind go white. He’s relentless. Curling, thrusting, grinding his palm against your clit until you’re whining into his neck, hips grinding down like a slut in heat.
“You feel that?” he grits out. “Feel how tight you’re squeezing me? Like this hole’s been waiting for me.”
You whimper, trying to hold on, but he’s everywhere—his breath hot on your cheek, his fingers wrecking you, his voice in your ear like a brand you can’t shake.
“Gonna cum just from my hand, aren’t you?” he sneers, licking a stripe up your throat. “From getting finger-fucked in a hallway like the desperate little whore you are.”
Your whole body shudders.
He laughs again—meaner now.
“I can feel it,” he whispers, breathless. “You’re close. So fucking close. Gonna make a mess all over my hand, huh? You gonna ruin your cute little panties for me?”
You nod, too far gone for words, and he snarls—
“No.”
He rips his hand away like he’s punishing you—like you did something wrong—and your whole body screams from the loss, thighs clenching uselessly as the orgasm dies, denied and dragging like a blade.
You sob—a soft, broken sound—and he moans at the sound of it, gripping your jaw with his clean hand.
“Look at you,” he breathes, dragging his soaked fingers up between your legs and spreading them in front of your face. They glisten in the dim lighting—shiny, sticky, dripping.
“You see this mess? This fucking disaster of a cunt? All because I said your room number.”
And then he taps your cheek.
“Open.”
You do—so automatic, so eager it makes his pupils blow wide with satisfaction.
He pushes the fingers into your mouth, slow and deep. You moan around them, tongue greedy, sucking like it’s the only thing tethering you to the earth.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your mouth. “That’s what I thought.”
He pulls them out—slower now, watching the spit trail cling to your lips before snapping messily to his knuckles.
“You taste how much you wanted me?” he whispers, filthy and smug. “Next time you need attention, you don’t go crying to the concierge.”
He leans in, mouth a breath from yours.
You moan, shameless now, licking him clean like it’s what you were born for.
He leans in closer, mouth brushing your ear.
“You wanna cum?” he asks.
“Yes—please—”
He smirks. Leans down, lips hovering over yours.
“Beg.”
You hesitate.
He wraps a hand around your throat—light, a tease of pressure, just enough to make you still.
“I said—beg.”
“Please, please,” you whisper. “Please make me cum.”
“Louder.”
“Please—fuck—please, I need it, need you—”
He grins. A slow, devastating thing.
“There we go,” he purrs.
And then?
Then he tugs you into the nearest guest suite—unoccupied, unlocked, perfect. He bends you over the bed before the door even clicks shut.
His voice is the last thing you hear before your moans drown everything else out:
“You want to file another complaint?” he hisses in your ear. “Better make sure it’s legible with my cock down your throat.”
INT. SKZOTEL – CONFESSIONAL ROOM (A.K.A. MAINTENANCE CLOSET WITH A RING LIGHT)
[Camera clicks back on.]
Felix is back in the folding chair, this time looking a little less pristine. His hat’s missing, hair mussed. One button too many undone. His fingers glint faintly with something that’s definitely not ring light residue.
He licks the edge of his thumb, slow and casual, then flashes the camera a crooked grin.
FELIX (shrugging): “Guest's satisfied. That’s all that matters, right?”
He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out the now much more crumpled complaint, and fans himself with it.
FELIX (mock-innocent): “I’d file a report about it, but... turns out my hands were kinda full.”
He lifts his fingers to his lips again—tastes the air like he’s savoring a secret.
FELIX (deadpan): “And if Aeryn asks why the formal complaint never made it to her desk...”
He leans in, voice low and conspiratorial.
FELIX:
“Tell her I handled it.” [END OF RECORDING]
.+*pairing: domdetective!felix x psycho fem killer!reader
.+*genre: smut, angst, dark concepts.
.+*word count: ~1.2k
.+*contains: smut, p in v ( wrap before you tap ), mean dom!felix, degradation, dumification, hate sex, hair pulling, names: “slut, stupid whore, cock slut”, mentions of murder, loss of a parental figure, blood, unstable mental health of reader, manipulation, unaliving threats.
synopsis: Felix is working on interrogating you, his lethal ex girlfriend. you’ve become murderous after your break up and under his command, he needs to wield out a confession from you. Under methods not advised or recommended by most detectives.
m i k a 🌷: i’ve had this in my drafts since 2021…. like about time lmao. let me know what you think about this one!
reader discretion is advised when consuming media of triggering themes. by continuing to read, you understand that what’s written below is a complete work of fiction and does not reflect felix as a person.
m a s t e r l i s t .
How long were you going to lie to him? How long are you going to pretend that he has no affect on you?
Not to worry, Felix knew a way to force you to give into him. He knew which buttons to push to force a confession out of you. Sadly, your relationship being in ruins had to be the reason as to why he even has to take to horrible measures in the first place.
“So you’re going to tell me that you didn’t kill her?”
You smirk charmingly towards your hard at work ex, cocking your head to the side. ”Why should I tell you anything?”
“You swore to tell the truth.” Felix points to where you’ve signed.
“I also have the right to remain silent.“ You narrow your eyes, leaning back in your chair with your cuffed hands in your lap. “You know, pleading the fifth.”
“You’re sure doing a lot of talking considering you want to exercise the right to remain silent.” Felix twirls the pen in his fingers impatiently.
“Oh, I’ve pleaded for more than a fifth with you before Felix.”
Felix smirks humorlessly. Scoffing at your audacity to mention your past experiences with him. “Stop stalling and tell me why you did it. We‘ve already caught you on tape. Leaving the victim’s apartment and flicking off the security cameras.”
”Whoever did that—Sounds like a bad ass bitch to me.” You laugh, eyeing the way his fingers touched the pen in his hand. Reminding you of the many things this man would do to you. Used to do to you.
This thought brings a bitter taste to your mouth now that you remember that everything concerning your ex is said in past tense. He was no longer yours. Even when he still belonged to you in your mind.
You ball your hands into fists and he catches the shift in your mood.
This was his chance to force your motive and confession out.
“Seungmin, unlock the door. I’m coming out.”
Your heart races from his statement causing your body to sit up straight as he rises from the silver metallic chair. He was leaving. Leaving you again.
“No!” You reach out with both of your cuffed hands to snatch him back into the room, you've managed to launch yourself over the cold silver table. “You will not leave me.”
Felix lifts a questioning brow, stalling before he exits. Using his other hand to shove yours off of him. Your body lamely splays onto the cold metallic table.
"Who gave you permission to touch me?" His low, steady tone instantly sends a familiar twitch down your spine and you can't help but smile from your body's trained reaction.
"You don't get to tell me what to do." You spit out with a hiss to your voice. the venomous snake that you were couldn't possibly take long to make this man foam at the mouth.
He was, in fact, the man that used to spend hours pleasuring you so painfully. one of the many traits that drove you unbelievably insane.
Instead of giving you a reaction, Felix grips your file tightly in his hand and leaves you to be alone in your insane rage.
Felix hated being bothered by your bratty mouth. Safe to say that he was planning to crack you. pulling a double tonight would help him tire you out.
* * * * *
you're gripping the table with strength that turns your knuckles white. the handcuffs restrain you and hold you in place while your body lurches forward with every thrust.
he was still just as big as he used to be—if not bigger and veinier than you remembered. his hips were moving at a pace you could only react to with shock. “jogging your memories now, y/n?”
“fuck— fuck you!” your voice sounding weaker than you intended.
his deep voice rumbles behind your ear, sending shivers down your spine as his fingers interlock through your hair by the scalp to yank your torso back to meet his lips. “what do you think we’re doing, then y/n? i’m already fucking you stupid.”
“i’ll kill you as soon as these handcuffs come off—“ your mouth is covered by his palm. pressing your lips against your teeth to keep you from talking, the leverage actually helping him fuck you with more stability.
“you were always prettier when you were gagged.” felix huffs as his groans slip from his throat. deep and guttural as he feels your core tighten around his cock. “fuck— you’re still a tight fucking slut… still going to refuse admitting what you did wrong?”
your snarl is muffled by his hand. you hate that your legs feel like jelly. your tears threaten to prick your eyes and your body weak underneath his strong frame.
he laughs. actually laughs while you struggle.
it’s been a firm 30 minutes and the hum of the over head lamp echos just as much as the wet plopping and smacking noise of your bodies fill the space.
your arms are above your head, handcuffs digging into your wrists. felix roughly presses your thighs to your chest, fucking you deeper into the cold metal of the table.
at this point, tears are fully streaked down your face and he chuckles at your disposition. “ready to talk now my little cock slut?”
you manage to turn your head away from him defiantly…
years ago he had been the one to leave you in the darkest moments of your life… when you needed him the most. when the trauma of losing your abusive mother consumed you. when things stop mattering. people were voids— simply in your way.
you aren’t stupid. actually you were the entire opposite.
it took felix at least 5 years to finally catch you.
not because you were predictable, but you had gotten sloppy on purpose. the more people you encountered and killed… the more you noticed felix was drawn to stop you.
you had gotten addicted to his obsession with catching you.
this cat and mouse game that used to be fleshed out in fantasies of the bedroom now translated into the rush of murder and mystery.
you were the murderer and the mystery of what you’ve done was felix’s chase…
deep down in your heart. you just wanted to be pursued. to be held close and told that nothing you did mattered. as long as you stayed with him…
this moment?
is the closest thing you would get to that assurance.
his cock deep inside you. molding your walls to every vein and curve of his shaft. hands all over you, manhandling your limbs to bend to his will.
your liquids leak out of you as you both near a precipice of orgasm….
“you know,” felix was so warm… so close and vicersally with you. god, this intimacy was such a trance. a drug you could endlessly inject yourself with. “i’ll keep fucking you as long as that pretty mouth tells me all your dirty little secrets… how does that sound, y/n?”
his voice was like melted chocolate in your ear.
anything for you felix… “please—“ you plea, brain melted. thoughts abandoned. intimacy at it’s peak. “don’t stop.”
“will you tell me everything, baby??” he slows, causing you to whine and reach for him.
“yes, please! felix don’t fucking stop!” you sound pathetic but at this point, you didnt care.
he was with you.
he finally caught you.
and after years of running… maybe it was worth it. this was your reward.
* * * * *
“she murdered her out of jealousy.” felix stares at you blandly as he explains to the prosecutor. as if you never mattered. as if he didn’t fuck you for 3 days straight. as if your love didn’t matter.
the low growl that leaves your throat is a warning before you thrash against your handcuffs. using all your might to lunge forward. you were going to kill him. “ you fucking bastard! i’ll fucking kill you when i get out!” the sting of your wrists are dull compared to the burning of your entire head. trying to wrap around the thought of him stabbing you in the back.
“miss y/n,” felix tilts his head, indifferently. like your display of betrayal was trivial. “good luck trying to kill me behind bars.”
your wrists are bleeding now. you’re still thrashing and gnashing your teeth, with hot tears ripping down your face.
the prosecutor yells over to someone.
a second later, your body seizes.
electrical currents flooding your nerves and muscles.
stunning your body into a limp pile on the cold cell floor.
guards collect your limbs before placing you into the chair. the last thing you hear before you pass out is felix’s stupidly deep voice:
“now, you be a good girl for me while i’m gone…”
m i k a 🌷: a little darker imagine than what i currently have on my blog but i really enjoyed writing this. thank you for reading! if you want to be included in any of my taglists for my future works comment, send an ask, or message me!
All Rights Reserved to vanillaxbambi 2025. Any posts on other platforms are prohibited.
warnings: breeding (at the end…), fem and afab reader, little dacryphilia, dirty words, good girl use, sorry I love imagining him saying that, I would sleep peacefully if he said that to me... tell me if there is any warning missing
Just thinking about the fact that I see a lot of sub!felix and I totally get the appeal, in fact I totally get the appeal of any of sub!skz, imagine them begging for you so desperately, oh my…
but I've always had a lot of thoughts about dom!felix… tell me if I'm crazy, but think with me:
Felix being affectionate with you all the time, being loving and caring towards you, he loves you after all, he'll make you feel like royalty, but things change when the two of you go to bed…
Imagine the way he marks your neck, running his hand over your crotch as he slowly opens you up, making you beg for him, beg for him to give you what you want.
"So pathetic… desperate."
"Why are you like this? I didn't do anything…"
"You're so wet, is it because of me?"
"What do you want? Tell me, I can't read minds, silly."
Imagine him mistreating your pussy, digging his nails into your thighs, enjoying the noises you make.
"So loud, do you want everyone to hear you?"
Imagine the way he pulls your hair, shoving your mouth on his throbbing cock as he watches your tears streaming down your face, you're so pretty, completely destroyed by his cock :(
"You're so greedy, wanting all of my cock in your mouth"
"Keep going… uh, at least you know how to use your mouth for something other than moaning so loudly"
Imagine the way he holds your face hard against the pillow as he fucks you deep, drool dripping down your chin as all the noises that come out of your mouth are moans and more moans
"Are you gonna let me fill you up with cum, babe?"
"You're gonna let me cum in that tight, sweet pussy, breed you and let everyone know you're mine, right?"
"I'm sure you'll be my pretty good girl and let me do this, you're perfect."
But of course, after all that he would go back to treating you like royalty, caressing you and kissing the marks he left, apologizing if it was too much for you.
He would give you a bath, wash your hair, clean the bed and wrap you in the blanket, hugging you and keeping you safe.
"I love you, darling…" he would whisper, letting you finally rest after long hours.
Just thoughts before bed… am I a little obsessed?
First time I've tried to write something dirty…
Sorry for the English mistakes, it's not my first language :(
i gotchu anon 🫡 i feel like as we all know, felix has one of the hottest voices known to man and it’s impossible to think he DOESN’T talk his partners through it
things i think felix would say in bed
“there we go. take it like a good slut.”
“what a good little toy for me.”
“ah ah. open those fucking legs for me.”
“watch me fuck you, baby. keep those eyes open.”
“you’re so good, fuck-“
“atta girl, take that fucking cock.”
“ass up, baby. show off for me, yeah?”
“aww? my sweet little thing wants to cum?”
“take it like a good girl.”
“gimme one more baby.”
“fuck, missed this pussy so much honey.”
“oh fuck that’s good.”
“such a good cumdump for me~”
“yeah? gonna let me fill you up? gonna let me cum in you nice and deep?”
The boys were all sitting on the sofa watching a movie when their front door opened. The two missing members came inside, and Chan greeted them with a wave, frowning at how pissed Felix looked. The rest couldn't help but stare either as Minho put his sneakers aside, tensing up as Felix grabbed his wrist tightly. Minho blushed heavily as Felix whispered something to him and nodded timidly.
Felix pulled him into the living room and pushed him past their friends. Minho was waving at them with a small smile before getting pushed up the stairs.
The door to Minho's bedroom fell closed and Chan blinked a little in surprise. “What the hell did we miss?”
“God, Lix looked pissed,” Jisung chimed in.
Hyunjin frowned gently. “Did I just see that right?”
“Felix's in charge when it's those two?” Changbin asked, stunned.
“I always thought….,” Seungmin started, blushing a little and stopping himself from finishing that sentence.
“Minho…a bottom? Minho being submissive?!” Jeongin finished it for him.
“Nah, that can't be. Felix is way too-” Chan trailed off at a sudden noise, the bedframe hitting the wall.
Jisung grabbed the remote, turning the volume down. None of them protested. All of them had been sleeping with at least two other members. None of them really remembered when that started, but they didn't mind having seven pretty guys at their disposal whenever they needed someone.
“Felix can be dominant,” Jeongin told them and blushed, thinking of their last encounter. “But with Minho?”
“He can?” Chan frowned, surprised. “He was sobbing last time; I can hardly imagine that,” he giggled. What made him even more curious was the thought of Minho being submissive. They never hooked up yet because they both liked to be the one in control. A loud moan of Minho answered his question and he sank deeper into the sofa as they rose in pitch, matching the bed frame hitting the wall. “Oh god,” he whispered to himself, and Changbin threw him an amused glance.
-
Minho's face was buried in the pillow, eyes squeezed shut and jaw slack, leaving him no way to silence the noise. He could only hope the others wouldn't hear him getting ruined by Felix; they'd never take him seriously after that. He gripped the sheets as Felix pounded into him, pulling his bum up high and making his back arch beautifully.
“Not so talkative now, huh,” Felix gritted out between his teeth, and Minho moaned in response. “Behaving like such a little slut instead of asking.”
“I'm sorry,” he whimpered and cried out in pleasurable pain as Felix slapped his bum.
“No, you're not,” Felix shook his head, picking up the force of his thrusts, shoving Minho up the mattress. The older one weakly reached up to brace himself against the headboard and stop himself from scooting up even more. “Talking about Channie hyung all night, saying he'd make you cum harder than I ever did.”
“I wa-ahh-s joking,” he moaned out in pure bliss. “Needed you, wa-wanted you so bad.”
“Yeah, so needy that you started talking shit?” he asked and slapped him again.
Minho grew slack with a loud whimper, tears shooting to his eyes. “Mhm, so needy.”
“Needy little slut,” Felix growled and changed the angle of his hips. “You're mine.”
Minho nodded dumbly and gripped the sheets tightly as another harsh pain shot through his left cheek as Felix's hand hit it. “Only need you, don't need Cha-ahhnn,” he moaned out obscenely loud as Felix hit his prostate and made his body shake.
-
Chan's ears burned up, eyes widening and lips parting at the sound of Minho moaning his name so loudly it could be heard in the whole house. If he hadn't been hard before, he definitely would be now. He didn't dare lift his gaze and check if the others had caught it as well and shifted a little on the sofa, getting uncomfortable. Looking up, he noticed Changbin and Hyunjin had started kissing, and Jisung was seated in Seungmin's lap.
“Hyungie?” Jeongin spoke up, and Chan turned his head to his maknae. He was sitting on his knees next to him, eyes teary at the neglect of the others, and his sweatpants did a bad job of hiding his arousal.
Chan's face softened, and he patted his thighs. “Come here, baby,” he said, and Jeongin quickly shuffled over, straddling his lap and pressing down against him with a soft sigh. Chan gently cupped his face, soothingly rubbing his thumbs across his cheekbones, and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Need your hyung to take care of his little baby?” he asked quietly enough for only them to hear.
“Please,” he whispered, needily grinding down against him.
-
Minho was seeing stars by now, unable to form a clear sentence. He couldn't stop the noise from leaving his mouth, and it had him writhing with embarrassment. Felix had never gone so hard on him before, and fuck he loved it. “Close,” he whimpered, and Felix laughed.
“Forget it, you're not cumming before I say so,” he told him. “I'll show your beloved Channie just how fucked out you are once I'm done with you.” An obscene moan spilled from Minho's lips, and he clenched hard around him. “My baby would like that, huh? Such a needy little slut.”
“So needy,” Minho slurred, completely out of it by now. “Please,” he whimpered, a tear falling from his face.
“Please, what?” Felix asked sharply, dragging his dick across his prostate with every harsh snap of his hips.
“Need to -ohh- cum,” he choked out, curling his fists in the sheets so tightly his nails drew blood even through the fabric. “Please, can't-” he breathed out before breaking apart with another loud moan.
“Go on then, cum and make a mess, like the needy little slut you are,” Felix told him, and Minho's body shook intensely only seconds later. He came with a broken shout of his name, sobbing into the pillow weakly as Felix kept chasing his high.
-
Chan gently kissed Jeongin, rubbing his hips after tucking him back in. “How the fuck are they still going?” the younger one asked, and Chan laughed.
“No idea,” he said, noticing they were the only ones left in the living room. Jeongin curled up against his chest and Chan soothingly rubbed his back. His ears burned up at the sound of Minho stumbling over the edge, and closed his eyes, hoping they'd stop before he'd lose his mind. It got quiet soon, and after another few minutes, Felix strolled down the stairs, looking pleased with himself. “You menace.”
“He deserved it,” Felix shrugged and smirked at Chan. “Didn't stop talking about you ruining him. Should've seen him when I told him I'd show you how wrecked he is.”
“Felix,” he gasped, and Jeongin stared at his friend in wonder.
“Never thought you'd be so jealous,” Jeongin snorted.
“Well, I am,” he laughed and exchanged a glance with Chan.
“Please tell me you didn't leave him there like that?” he said, barely above a whisper.
“He's fine; he gets emotional, that's all,” Felix shook his head. "Come on, hyung. Do him the favor and take care of him. I'll cuddle Innie. I promise he's fine; I wouldn't leave him if he weren't.”
Chan reluctantly handed over Jeongin to Felix and made his way up the stairs, heart thumping in his chest. Seeing Minho like this, he hadn't imagined it to happen like that. Chan pushed the door open, jaw dropping at the sight. “Oh my God,” he breathed out. Minho was sprawled out on the bed, sobbing quietly as cum dripped from his hole. His hair stuck to his face, tear streaks painted his cheeks, and his body shuddered. “Lix, we have dance practice tomorrow!” he shouted downstairs, and Felix cackled in response.
“Channie,” Minho whimpered, and Chan's stomach flipped at the sound of it.
Oh, for fucks sake.
PART TWO
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