Lee Felix from straykids smut! Felix fanfiction. Felix x reader.
“Pretty when you’re mine.” Episode two.
Waring: this is all a work of art and imagination. Never meant to disrespect any idol and never actually happened to them. This series contains sensitive topics like rape, sexual assault, drugs, blood, etc. if you find this disturbing, you may scroll.
The sound was slow at first—almost rhythmic—until it became impossible to ignore. A thin line of blood slid from Felix’s fingertips, pooling and staining the fabric of his jeans like ink soaking into paper.
He was crouched in the alley, still and silent except for the faint rise and fall of his breathing.
The streetlight above flickered weakly, revealing the unnatural stillness of the scene. Minho’s phone had fallen just out of reach, its screen glowing faintly in the dark.
Felix noticed it only after a moment.
Slowly, he reached for it.
The screen lit up his face as he read the unfinished message.
Something quieter. Sharper.
“Still trying to protect her,” he murmured under his breath, almost impressed. “That’s adorable.”
He exhaled softly, tilting his head as he looked down at Minho like he was studying something distant and unimportant.
“You didn’t understand,” Felix said gently, voice calm enough to sound almost normal. “She was never yours to protect.”
Then he slipped the phone into his pocket like it belonged to him.
His gaze lifted toward the empty street.
“She’s already safe,” he whispered.
Somewhere else in the city… beneath the surface noise of sleeping streets… you sat frozen.
The basement was dim, the light above you buzzing softly like it was struggling to stay alive. The chair beneath you was real, solid, grounding—but everything else felt wrong. Too quiet. Too controlled.
The restraints had been loosened.
Just enough to remind you that you were being allowed to sit there.
Your eyes drifted to the clock on the wall.
Each second felt louder than the last.
Felix stepped inside like nothing in the world had changed. Like the air itself wasn’t heavier the moment he entered.
“Hey,” he said softly, closing the door behind him.
His voice was calm. Familiar. Almost comforting if you forgot what it meant.
He looked… clean. Put together. Like the world outside him had never cracked.
“I’m back,” he added, as if he had simply gone somewhere ordinary.
“How are you feeling?” he asked casually, tilting his head. “Do you want anything? Water? Something to eat?”
Like you weren’t sitting there with your chest tight and your thoughts spiraling.
For a brief moment, something flickered across his face. So quick you almost missed it.
But it didn’t reach his eyes this time.
“Belle,” he said quietly, like he was trying to be patient. “That’s not possible.”
He stopped in front of you.
Close enough that you could feel his presence fully now—heavy, suffocating, impossible to ignore.
“I didn’t do all of this for nothing,” he continued, voice softer now. “I did it because I love you.”
Your breath shook slightly.
“That’s not love,” you whispered.
His expression tightened at that.
“You say that,” Felix murmured, “but you don’t understand what I’m willing to do for you.”
He crouched slightly so he was level with you, eyes locked onto yours like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
“I’m the only one who stays,” he said. “The only one who doesn’t leave.”
His voice dropped even lower.
“So just listen to me,” he said. “Please.”
His hand rose slowly—not forcing, not grabbing—just hovering near you like he was trying to convince reality itself to change.
“I can make this work,” he added softly. “We can still be okay.”
And in that basement, with the clock still ticking and the air too still to breathe properly…
it didn’t feel like a promise. It felt like a cage closing in.
Your future self would’ve begged you not to say it.
The moment the words left your mouth, everything shifted.
His expression broke—something sharp flickering behind his eyes before his jaw tightened so hard it looked like it might crack. Silence hit the room like a weight.
He closed the distance between you in an instant, grabbing you and pulling you back against him with a force that stole your breath. His grip wasn’t gentle—firm, desperate, shaking with something ugly and raw. Then, he grabbed your throat tightly, squeezing like life depended on it.
“You don’t get to say that,” he muttered, voice low at first… almost broken. His hand tightened slightly as if he was trying to hold himself together more than he was holding you. He nipped on your earlobe.
“Say it again,” he whispered near your ear, his tone turning colder, sharper. “Go on.”
Your body trembled. Your breath hitched. Tears blurred your vision as panic flooded your chest. Black spots danced on your vision.
His laugh was quiet—but it didn’t feel like humor.
“Let go?” he repeated, like the word didn’t make sense. His grip loosened just enough for you to breathe better, but he didn’t step back. Not even close.
“After everything I’ve done… for you… for us…” His voice rose, breaking at the edges. “You still say that?”
The air felt heavy, stuck.
Then, barely above a whisper, you forced it out again.
Then sharp, stinging slap landed on your cheek. You hissed in pain.
He walked over to a small desk. The one he keeps his knifes on. But he didn’t grab any. He just started at them. Blankly.
“…You think I’m a monster?”
You glanced at him. Just a glance. You wouldn’t dare looking at him.
“I just get rid of whom get between us.”
Slow, deliberate footsteps retreating towards you. “I’ll make you love me.”
Without a warning. Without a word. Without a glance. He pulled you to stand by your hair, sending you stumbling.
His lips landed on yours. Not kissing. But eating your mouth. Fiercely. His tongue explored every inch of your mouth. His hands roamed over your body, until they reached the waistband of your pants. Then he pushed them down alongside with your panties.
“Love me.” He whispered against your lips. His hand snaked into your underwear and he began to massage your clit roughly.
“Love me.” He said again, his voice sounding more urgent.
“Love me.” He pressed two fingers into you.
His fingers moved in and out of you roughly, as if trying to force the words 'I love you' out of your mouth.
His other hand gripped your jaw tightly, making it hard for you to move or speak. His lips moved to your neck, sucking and biting harshly as he continued his assault on your core.
You moaned. You hate that you did.
"Say it, fucking say it..."
His fingers curled inside of you, hitting that perfect spot that made your legs tremble. His thumb pressed hard on your clit, rubbing it in circles.
"Love me..." He whispered against your neck, his voice low and dangerous. "Or I'll make you."
"You're going to come on my fingers and then I'm going to fuck you and you'll love me by the end of it."
He growled into your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper, hitting that spot over and over until your body started to shake.
You squirted hard on his fingers, your body convulsing as he continued to rub your clit and finger you through the orgasm. He didn't stop until you were completely spent, panting and trembling. He pulled his fingers out and brought them to his mouth, sucking your juices off slowly.
"Now..." A sigh. "Now you're going to say it."
He unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, freeing his hard cock. He grabbed your hips roughly, seating you down on his knives’ desk, and positioned himself at your entrance.
"Say 'I love you' or I'll fuck you raw without a condom."
“Never.” A mistake. (Let’s be honest, you’re dumb)
"Never?" He repeated, his voice low and dangerous.
He grabbed your throat and squeezed, his other hand guiding his thick, 11 inches dick inside of you. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, your fingers clawing at his wrists.
"Say it." He thrust into you hard, hitting your cervix.
Panting heavily, you managed and said, “No.” (Told ya)
"Fucking stubborn bitch."
He groaned, pulling out and slamming back into you, his hips hitting your ass with every thrust.
"I'll make you love me with my dick." He reached down to rub your clit aggressively while fucking you hard.
His pace was brutal, relentless. He bent you over the edge of the desk, pulling your head back by your hair while he pounded into you from behind.
"You'll break." A cruel smile spread across his face as he felt you clench around him again. "I have forever to make you love me. I don't need to rush."
He fucked you for what felt like hours, not giving you a break, not letting you come down from the orgasms.
Every time you came or squirted, he just kept going, determined to break you. Your pussy was sore and swollen, coated in your juices and his precum.
Everytime you protested, he slapped you.
"Shut up and take my dick."
"You're going to love me."
"Even if I have to fuck the hatred out of your pussy."
"Such a tight little cunt."
He flipped you onto your back on the desk, spreading your legs wide and pushing them up towards your chest.
He gripped your thighs tightly as he drove into you, his pace brutal and unforgiving. Tears streamed down your face from the pain and the slaps, but he didn't stop.
"Look at me." He commanded, and when you refused, his hand connected with your cheek again.
"I said look at me while I'm ruining you." His eyes were wild, possessive, hungry. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he pounded into you mercilessly.
"I'll own this body. I'll own your heart. Everything."
He wrapped his arms around your legs, pulling them apart and lifting your hips higher to change the angle. With each brutal thrust, he hit that spot inside you that made your body shudder despite the pain. Tears flowed freely down your cheeks as he used you roughly.
“Fine… stop.. please… I love you.. just enough..” You managed to say with shaking breath.
At your desperate fake confession, he softened instantly. His brutal thrusts gentled, becoming slow and deep, almost worshipful. A cruel smile played on his lips as he looked down at your tear-streaked face.
"That's my good girl... You learned so quickly." His voice became soft, almost loving.
He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your bruised cheek, contradicting the violent man who had just been fucking you senseless.
"You realized if you just said what I wanted to hear, I'd treat you better."
"I knew you'd see reason eventually." He pulled out slowly, making you wince at the soreness. His cock was still hard, coated in your juices and maybe a little blood from how rough he was.
"Such a smart girl, knowing when to give in."
He undid the restraints and carried you out of the basement, your body limp and exhausted in his arms.
He took you upstairs to his room, laying you gently on his bed. He cleaned you up carefully, tending to the red marks on your wrists and the bruises on your cheeks and neck.
As he tended to your wounds, you kept your eyes closed, pretending to be too exhausted to move. But inside, a cold, burning hatred was growing. You hated him for what he had done to you, for forcing your love out of you with pain and violence.
