#chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

dunno bout you but i have a thing or two for seungmin's fingers i'm sorry like they look so slender and beautiful and imagine him ruining you with his fingers only while looking at you in the eyes— let me stop here before i combust

i know you sent this a while ago but it’s monday my brain can’t keep up with this—

SMUT — MINORS DNI

It’s just a little habit of his. Hard to break, hard to even recognize unless it’s pointed out. Seungmin’s fingers just seem to move on their own when you’re seated next to him, softly stroking your inner thigh. Sometimes he draws shapes, sometimes it’s just lines. Up and down, up and down. It’s almost soothing.

For him, that is. Sometimes it is for you, but other times it tickles. Then there’s times like tonight, when his cold fingertips are against your warm skin, that it’s doing nothing but building a frustration in your core.

His other hand is holding his chin. Perched on the table, blankly staring at his friend under the guise of listening. He’s checked out a long time ago, distracting himself by touching you.

Perhaps it’s your fault for wearing this dress. It was a little short, but you didn’t think much of it. It’s not like this is a fancy restaurant; a cocktail dress is perfectly in tune with the dark vibes of the ocean side restaurant.

“Oh, Seungmin.” His friend speaks, sparking a light in your boyfriend’s eyes. “Did you hear about—“

Up and down, up and down. Seemingly getting higher as well. Does he notice? Seungmin is tuned back into the conversation, it’s very likely that he has no idea.

His knuckles brush against the opposite thigh, the cold metal of his rings making you shiver. That’s when you catch it; the playful smile that’s tugging on his lips. Then it happens again, confirming your suspicions.

Seungmin knows exactly what he’s doing, and it’s silly of you to assume that he doesn’t.

The restaurant is starting to feel too stuffy. Heat creeping from your belly and making beads of sweat pearl on the back of your neck. No. Nope. Can’t do this anymore.

“I’m going to get some air.” You mumble before standing up, taking your boyfriend’s jacket off the back of your chair in favor of covering your shoulders. It’s the first time Seungmin had looked at you since he started teasing you, and you feel almost nauseous at the look he’s giving you.

It’s only in his eyes, but it’s far more than enough to make your body start to sway. Feral, darker than the sea just outside the large window that spans the restaurant. It’s like the moon is shining in his dark ocean, giving it a little sparkle of mischief.

“Are you alright, darling?”

He’s so frustrating. You’re so frustrated.

“Just a little warm. I won’t be long.”

You don’t give him another chance before you step away from the table, heading towards the door in the corner of the restaurant. The one that leads to a balcony.

The wooden planks creak slightly as you step onto them. It’s too cold to seat customers outside, giving you the privacy you need. At the railing, you groan loudly, head hanging as you try to catch your breath.

This is ridiculous. Should a little touch get you this riled up? You almost want to slap yourself. Get it together. That was nothing, stop acting like it’s something serious.

Waves crash against the beams beneath you. The sound lulling you, easing the pressure that built its way up to your throat. A few more minutes, you tell yourself as the breeze hits your face. Cool, misty. Just what you needed to ground yourself.

When the patio door opens, you decide it’s time to return to the table. It’s been long enough.

All you can do is turn around before familiar hands grip the railing on either side of you. And it doesn’t matter how cold it is, how freezing the breeze is.

When Seungmin is in front of you, looking at you like that, you have no choice but to melt.

“Just wanted to check on you.” He lifts a hand, softly stroking your face with his knuckles. The rings catch the moonlight, sparkling like the heat rapidly climbing up your body yet again. “You were in a rush.”

You pull his jacket tighter around you, trying to avoid his gaze. “It was stuffy in there.”

“You think? The restaurant is almost empty.” He’s getting closer, bodies hardly separated. Just enough space for the cool breeze to squeak by. When he notices you’re not looking his way, his hand flips. Cups your cheek, brings you back to him. “Don’t be shy, baby. It’s just me.”

It’s the cold that’s making your lip tremble. That’s it. Not the overwhelming need for those pretty fingers to be elsewhere.

“Why are you doing this?” You whisper, the sound almost lost to the crashing of the waves.

Seungmin smiles at you, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. His nose nudges your opposite cheek, other hand now tracing up the outside of your thigh.

“Because I can.”

Some fingers tease your inner thigh, the others stroke your jaw. Push hair behind your ear, draw over the outline of your lips. He doesn’t look away from you once, committing your body to his touch until the fingerprints have burned away and all that’s left is you.

He doesn’t blink, not even as the fingers tucked between your legs reach your clothed core. Pushing the lacy material to the side, the move with ease over you. Collecting slick until he’s satisfied with how it clings them.

“Keep your eyes on me.” He whispers lowly, lining his fingers with your entrance. “Don’t make me stop.”

There isn’t time for a response before he pushes in, almost expressionless as your lips part. Slowly, he goes deeper. Scissoring as he goes, stretching you out to make enough space for a third finger to join the duo.

It’s not an easy fit. You fill full from his fingers alone, head starting to roll as you brokenly cry into the night.

As easily as he gave it to you, it’s taken away. Hand on your face slipping to the back of your head, adjusting it so you’re looking at him once again.

“What did I tell you?” Seungmin looks almost scary in the moonlight, voice a low mumble that’s more chilling than the ocean air. “Eyes. On. Me.”

You whimper, both hands wrapping around the wrist in between your legs. Trying to pull it forward.

“I’ll be g-good.” You earnestly promise, the tears beginning to build. “Just touch me, Minnie.”

He doesn’t touch your cunt again. No, instead he brings his slick covered fingers up. Pushing all three inside your mouth.

“Lick. Clean them.”

Did he really have to ask? Your tongue was already moving around the digits, lapping eagerly at the skin. The rings. Making sure to get every last drop of you off of him.

Seungmin chuckles lowly. “You know, if you would have stayed seated just a little longer,” without warning, his fingers push back, hitting your throat. He smiles when you start to choke, knees buckling at the desperation shoots through your body. “I was going to play with your cunt there. Maybe take you to the bathroom to fill you up.”

Out of your mouth. Untangled from your hair. The hands you’ve been craving all evening rudely taken from you before you could fully enjoy them. When you reach for him, he steps back. Adjusting his tie before giving you a twisted smile.

“What a shame. Impatient little girls never get what they want.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #kim seungmin smut #seungmin smut #skz drabbles #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

high 3racha 👀

i—

i’m doing to three different sections instead of one big one? hehe

SMUT — MINORS DIN

“That’s it, baby.” Chan mumbles. His fingers are tangled in your hair, back pressed against sweaty chest. Buried to the brim, he moves his hips in slow, rough circles. Making sure that you feel every ridge of his cock. His other hand hooks around your body, a joint neatly sitting between his pointer and middle finger. “Open.”

You let your lips part, allowing him to place the end on them. Eyes fluttering shut as you inhale, warm smile rolling down your overheated body. The drag you take is long. Longer than it should be considering your position. Once you’ve had your fill, you wrap a hand around his wrist, moving him away.

The exhale feels like your first breath ever; long, deep, filling your lungs so deeply it makes your body tingle. Do you moan from the sensation, or your boyfriend’s cock? Everything is fuzzy — you feel too good to try to figure out why.

“Good girl.” His voice is deep and raspy, usual when he’s been smoking. Placing the joint back on his own lips, he shoves your head back down. Mattress creaking when your cheek hits it.

Your fingers grip on the sheets, the cool cotton making your toes curl. It’s nice, soothing. Whereas Chan had started to become rough again, only easing up for that fleeting moment to share the joint.

This is a first for you. Though your highs have crossed over many times, it hasn’t occurred to either of you to fuck during it. Too hungry, too anxious, too focused on whatever was distracting you from each other’s bodies.

When you got home, Chan was already high. Sitting at the desk in his office, bong in his lap as he clicked through a porn site. He didn’t hear you walk in the room, hazy gaze locked in on the pretty girl in the video.

You sneak up behind him, rubbing his shoulders as you lean over his chair. “What are you doing, Channie?” You whisper in his ear, giggling when he jumps a bit in surprised.

“Missed you.” The words are almost inaudible, soft and groggy. His attention torn between you and the screen. “I couldn’t—I needed. Fuck, baby, I’m so hard—“

You coo, walking to sit in his lap. His arm hooks around your waist, pulling you firmly into his body. Even if he hadn’t had told you, it was more than obvious. Erection pressed against your ass, perfectly positioned for you to tease him a bit. Wiggling as you take the bong from him.

“Play the video.”

It was only a matter of time — how much is up for debate. Stumbling into your shared bedroom, shakily tearing at each other’s clothes. The only pause was for Chan to roll a questionable joint, desperate to combine the high of the weed and your body.

If anything, the high makes your boyfriend more attentive. Balancing himself with a hand on your hip while the other moves from your hair. Sliding down your body in search of your clit.

He’s rough, hips hitting your ass with such an intensity that you wouldn’t be surprised if you bruise.

“F-fuck, Chan.” Your cries are weak, laced with a mind numbing, life altering pleasure. Head rolling back, you glance over your shoulder.

Like a God, well defined and beautiful. Sweat sparkles off his skin, hair disheveled from your fingers. His eyes are shut, taking a long, heavy hit of the joint. Only when he exhaled does he look at you. Smiles lazily.

“My pretty baby.” It’s like a purr, perfectly in tune to fingers teasing your clit. “I love this perfect cunt.”

You whimper, rolling your hips to meet his. Eager, needy. So dizzy you think you’d fall over without him. “Feel ‘o good. So b-big—“

“You like it?” He chuckles when you cry out, the hard thrust hitting you in all the right ways. “It’s all for you, sweetheart.”

Chan stops, cock only midway in. You’re tempted to fuss, to beg him to continue on. What comes over you? What makes you move on your own, hips rolling back as you start to fuck yourself on his cock.

“That’s it.” He puts the nub of the joint out in the ashtray, hand coming in contact with your ass. The impact makes your knees buckle. “Show me how much your pretty pussy loves my cock.”

It’s all hazy. Dizzy. Cold, hot. Like a tornado erupting in your bedroom, helping you find a pace that brings the prettiest moans from your boyfriend. His fingers pinch your clit, rubbing in time with your hips.

Does he twitch first, or do you? It’s hard to tell.

“Make me cum, baby.” His voice is getting weaker, a deep whine as he rolls his head back.

Chan can’t help the way his body trembles as you start moving quicker, crying as your thighs begin to ache. He’s abusing your clit, pulling and rubbing with little care. Normally, it would be too much. Painful, even.

But now, it’s perfect. Clinching around him as he starts to fill you up without warning. Both experiencing an explosion of pleasure you’ve never felt before.

You’ll be damned if you don’t get it again.

///

There’s lipgloss on the pipe. When it meets Changbin’s lips, it’s stickier than he expects. Grape flavor, oddly complimenting the earth taste that fills his mouth as he breathes in. He takes it in deep, eyes fluttering shut. Body starting to tingle.

It’s removed from his lips, a pretty purple shimmer left as evidence. He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t exhale. Allowing his other senses to take the lead — hears the pipe hit the table, feels your cold fingers thread through his silver locks.

Tastes grape when you kiss him, softly parting his lips with your tongue.

He moans as the smoke is shared with you. It’s the way you tug on his hair, the warmth of your tongue on his. Nothing in the world will ever be as sweet as your kisses, yet they always feel better when he’s like this. Addictive, as if this is the source of his high.

“Binnie, Binnie.” You mumble when your lips part, tapping the tip of his lightly until he finally opens his eyes again. Beautiful isn’t a strong enough word for you; the purple bra you’re wearing is the perfect shade, panties so soft and sweet with a bow that matches. Fuck, Changbin wants your lips back. “I feel good.”

“Yeah?” He smiles at you, tongue peeking out and wetting his lips. Another taste. “Me too, baby.”

Your legs are over his lap, tucked into his side on the tour bus couch. He gets chills as your hands run down his body, starting to trace the intricate designs sketched into his skin. The moment feels like it could last forever; dizzy, tangled. Nothing else outside the bus matters, everything important between the tiny metal walls.

A line is drawn across his chest tattoo, hooking under the golden chain he wears everyday. Thin, your initial attached to it. Charm between your fingers, you rub the cold metal until it’s warm.

“Don’t want you to go.” The confession is whisper by his ear, breath fanning on his neck.

“Me neither.” Changbin squeezes your bare thigh, watching the flesh mold around his fingers. “But I have a show to play. I’ll be back.”

You lift your head up, lips in a sweet pout. “Stay?”

“Baby, you know I can’t—“

He didn’t even notice that you had let go of his necklace, or that you grabbed the hand on your thigh. It wasn’t under he felt something soft and damp that he looked down — fingers laced together, pressing his palm firmly against your clothed core.

“Are you sure?”

Time has to go on. It can’t stay still in the tiny bus — but Changbin is fine wasting it when it comes to you. The tint windows have started to fog, hands pressed firmly against the glass. The rockstar hasn’t moved an inch, still seated on the couch, only with his head rolled back. And your knees caging him in.

Calloused hands grip onto you, kneading your ass as his tongue sloppily works your folds. His nose is pressed against your clit, nudging side to side to make you spill pretty moans.

“Bin.” You cry out, looking down to see his redden eyes on you. Not once has he looked away from you, watching your chest heave, the way your lips part in pleasure.

Is the weed making him dizzy? Or is it you?

Parting from your folds to breath, he smiles up at you. “What, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, unable to even attempt to answer his questions. The high mixed with the rough way he’s eating you out has rendered you unable to think, let alone speak.

“Aw, cute.” He spits on your cunt, delighted at the sound you make. “Do you like daddy’s tongue that much?”

“Yes.” It’s shaky, and broken, and all you can give.

“Then fucking ride it.”

Using the grip on your ass, he pulls you down. Forcing you to suffocate him, moving you up and down his face. Tongue flat, flicking occasionally to make you squirm.

One hand on the window, the other grabs his hair again. Using the hold for support, you find your own tempo. Rolling your hips quickly, almost roughly, you use Changbin’s tongue the way he commanded you to.

“Damn it.” You curse, tears thick in your voice. “Daddy, y-you feel nice—“

He nips at your clit, a little harder than he meant to. When your thighs squeeze his head, he laughs. “Yeah? Don’t fucking stop.”

It’s sloppy, wet. The sound filling the bus, if not spilling out of it. You try your best to listen, to keep going and chasing a high that only he can bring. Twitching, crying, making his cock swell when you paint his face.

You let it end. Try to move. But he’s not budging. The weed has made him hungry, and he’s not stopping until he gets his fill.

///

The smoke looks pretty. Head roll back against the couch, Jisung watches the cloud float up, up, up. It twirls, morphing into different shapes. Before it reaches the ceiling — poof. All gone. Popped like a bubble, as if it was never there.

Hm. A lazy smile spreads across his face, eyelids fluttering until the eventually shut. What’s it like to be a cloud? He thinks it would feel…soft. Lighter than air, sometimes separating but always coming back together. Like a big piece of cotton candy. Sweet, soft, fluffy.

It feels like fingers tapping lightly under his chin. Raindrops, perhaps? The cloud moves with his head, looking down at his lap.

You. Bright eyed, hints of red dotting the whites. When he looks at you, the room is filled with giggles. Bouncy, the air that keeps him afloat.

“What?” He asks, voice low and steady. Softly, he runs his fingers through your hair. Needing to touch you, needing to feel weightless.

“Just admiring.” God, he knows he’s so fucking stoned, but your voice. Oh, it makes his chest ache wonderfully. A beautiful, lovely sound that keeps his heart beating. “You’re pretty, Sung.”

Heat creeps up his cheeks, turning them a deep rosy red. It feels silly, how shy you still make him. Nerves cause tiny rifts in the cloud, scrambling to pull himself back together so he doesn’t embarrass himself.

“Nah.” Is all he can manage, spinning too quickly to say much more.

You sit up, sitting where your head was just laying. Arms around his shoulders, scooting closer. Hips on top of hips, chests inches apart. The smile you wear he thinks is precious; it compliments you, like the oversized hoodie of his you’re tucked into.

“Don’t be silly.” You rub the tip of your nose against his, giggling when he does. His hands slip under the hoodie, resting on your waist. The lace of your panties makes his toes curl. “You’re the prettiest. Like. So pretty.”

God, he’s so in love with you. Needing you like the cloud needs the sky to keep itself alive.

“Kiss?” He whispers, not wanting the words to be heard by anyone else, as if you’re not all alone.

“How about a bunch?”

It’s sloppy, but neither of you mind it much. Time freezes in the sky; there’s no need to rush. All of it belongs to you two. Plenty of time to take it slow, to take in each other thoroughly. You taste like the sugary candy you shared earlier. It tastes so much better on your tongue.

When Jisung is with you, he feels whole. The lonely pieces of his soul suddenly filled. Patching him together, completing him beautifully.

His hands move up your body, feeling every inch of your warm skin. Always a bit handsy, it’s even more intense when he’s high like this. He can’t get enough of you, needing to feel all of you.

When his fingers brush the underside of your breasts, you whimper a little. Wiggling on his lap, perfectly sitting your barely clothed core on his growing erection. The panties you’re wearing are thin, the texture of his boxers felt through them. And oh, is it so so nice.

Your hips start to roll. Slow like the kisses, your press your cunt against him, moaning into his mouth. The pressure is just right, the rough sensation of lace and cotton scratching every inch you could ever have.

“Baby.” Jisung moans in your mouth, gripping onto your hips again. The hold is tighter, nails puncturing your skin. “Baby, baby, baby—“

“‘S good?” You part from his lips. Swollen, shiny with his spit and your own. Fuck, he needs them again.

Nodding, he uses his grip to push you down a little harder. Making it better for the both of you as his hips begin to roll like yours. Meeting in the middle, grinding against each other.

“So good.” It’s almost like at out of body experience. The high making him fuzzy, your cunt wetting his boxers so much that they stick to his cock. His pretty lips pout out, moaning deeply as he watches your bodies move to a tempo only the two of you can hear.

What is it about you that drives him so insane? Why can he never, ever get enough of you, no matter how much you fill him? The high would never be this good if you weren’t sharing it with him.

You yelp softly, thighs twitching around his body. Jisung looks back at you, brows furrowed just a bit.

“Baby?” He’s whining. He can’t help it. “It’s okay?”

Instead of answering, you kiss him again. Harder than before, clinging to him so fiercely as if he’ll float away. The fuzzy feeling in his stomach is getting out of control, cock throbbing and twitching, and—and—

“Jisung.” You’re nipping at his lip, small tears rolling down your cheeks. “You feel ‘o nice. Want t-to cum on you—“

“Fuck, please, baby?” Beg. Beg, beg, beg. When it comes to you, he’ll do and say anything. Not worthy enough in any way, praying you’ll give him a chance.

And every time—

The strength behind your orgasm takes your breath away. It’s drenching him, covering not only his boxers but the hem of his old t-shirt. Never have you ever squirted so much, so hard. Just for him.

It’s enough to bring him with you, not even a second after. Moaning loud enough to echo, floating higher and higher as he cries your name.

—you’re more than gracious.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #han jisung smut #changbin smut #chan smut #han smut #jisung smut #seo changbin smut #3racha smut #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

thoughts on..

chan impregnation kink/just straight up creampie...

it making me crazy

😵‍💫 babes say less.

I’m going to put a cut here because I…went a little hard LMAO

SMUT - MINORS DNI

I am a firm believer in dad!Chan (really dad!skz in general, but I digress). We can see with just how he cares for the members that he would be the most devoted father. Would always listen, bend over backwards to make his children happy, would discipline with kindness. World’s Best Dad? That’s Chan.

It isn’t a secret that his breeding kink is almost uncontrollable. Very, very rarely does he fuck you without filling you to the brim. It’s almost like he has to do it, like he has to chance it. He can’t help it; he loves you, he loves your family, and he just wants more.

More, more, more.

Though he would never tell you, the brief weeks after birth are when his control is really tested. Luckily, a newborn keeps him busy. Bouncing the happy new baby while making sure you’re tended to.

“Have you eaten enough?”

“Let me get you some more water.”

“Want to take the kids on a walk? The fresh air will be nice.”

Doting, wonderful father and husband. That’s Chan.

So when he comes home, careful not to step on his eldest’s daughters discarded toys that have accumulated in the walkway, and the house quiet, he’s confused. All day, he was looking forward to coming home. It’s movie night, takeout night. Why is it so…empty?

“Baby?” He calls into the house, not expecting an answer.

“Upstairs!”

Huh. He drops his bag by the door, quickly sliding his shoes off before he follows the sound of the voice. “Where are the kids?” If they were sleeping, you would have scolded him for being too loud.

“Minho offered to watch them for the night.” The night? Why? His brain is so tired, he can’t put together what’s basically being shouted in his face.

Until he’s in the bedroom. Until you’re in front of him, dressed in the prettiest lingerie he’s ever seen; the lace patterning out flowers, showing just enough for his control to slip completely out of his grasp.

Has the time passed already? Chan isn’t sure if he cares — you’re offering your body up, and he’s sure as fuck not going to say no.

The pretty fit doesn’t last long. Knees by your ears, he grips onto your ankles. His nails dig into the skin, keeping himself grounded as he relentlessly fucks into you.

God, the way you cry out for him. Cold hands wrapped around his own as your full, needy moans fill his ears.

“So fucking pretty.” He says through his teeth, eyes focused on the light bounce of your tits. “I missed you, baby.”

You simply whine, nodding your head in agreement. It’s too hard for you to think, let alone process words; Chan can tell by the vacant look in your eyes, only falling deeper in your hole with each wonderful movement.

Leaning down, he doesn’t stop until your noses are brushing. Bodies sweaty, skin against skin, melting from each other’s heat. It’s not like anything he’s ever experienced. This is home. You are home.

Your fingers lace through his curl, tugging gently. Enough to make your husband moan. “I love you.”

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss on the corner of your lips. “I love you, baby. So fucking much.” When his cock twitches inside you, he knows his time is limited. That home is to be taken from him. “Fuck, I want to give you more.”

“M-more?”

“Of me.” He lets go of an ankle to grab the headboard. Allowing him to go deeper. Faster. Harder. “Of this. Let me give you another baby.”

It’s too soon. Both of you know this, and should be cautious.

But you missed him too. Probably more than he did you.

“Please.” You say as you clinch, eyes starting to water. “Please, I n-need you, Chan-“

Quickly, he silences you with a kiss. Not letting it break until he feels your walls flutter, giving him you so he can give him. Never will you have to beg for anything with him.

When he pulls out, his cum follows. Pretty little trickles out of your cunt, rolling off your skin onto the sheets. With two fingers, he gathers it up and pushes it back in.

“I would say not to be wasteful.” He chuckles, trying to catch his breath. “But when I’m done with you, it won’t be possible.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #chvnnie thots #chvnnie moots

[chvnnie]

soft dom cocky Chan? All she wants is to suck him off but he wants more?

this is my favorite genre of chan

SMUT — MINORS DNI

You really didn’t mind when Chan put his hands on your hips, fingers hooking through your belt loop and pulling you closer to him. Standing in between his spread legs, one hand on his chin to keep it still. It was when he started to get a little more handsy, sneaking on behind you to grope your ass that it became a problem. Making you flick his forehead.

“Ouch—“

“Cut it out.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles, but the smile twitching on his plush lips tells you he’s anything but. It’s impossible to be mad at him when he’s looking up at you, brown eyes laced with fondness staring up at you. “Your ass just looks great in these jeans.”

You scoff, moving out of his hold to grab a new brush and eyeshadow platte. “Close your eyes and stop bothering me while I’m trying to work.”

Though the former is no problem, it’s nearly impossible to keep his hands off you. It’s pointless to scold him, to knock his hands away. Chan is going to do whatever he wants to do, and you’re really in no position to complain. Especially when his warm hands start to gently knead your flesh over your jeans. His touch always makes you feel like staticky, almost distracting you from why you were so annoyed with him.

He tried to convince you that everyone is behind schedule, that it isn’t his fault. It’s a bullshit lie; the other members were in and out, barely sitting in your chair for more then twenty minutes. It was Chan that was behind, too caught up on his new project that he lost track of time. He barely got his stage pants on before he was dragged into hair, then pushed in the tiny dressing room you’ve set up shop in.

Then he wanted to kiss you. Tell you how he kept trying to sneak away to visit you, but he just got so busy, baby. Pushes his lips into a pout. Don’t be too upset with him, okay?

Literally, you couldn’t care less about that. You’re frustrated that he’s late, giving you only eleven minutes to get him stage ready. And he keeps trying to waste it by touching you, kissing you. Distracting you from your job.

Six minutes have passed, and your applying color to his lip when there’s a knock on the door. Five minute warning.

“Let me just touch up your eyeliner—“

“It looks fine.”

“No, Chan—“

“We only have five more minutes, baby.” He says in a soft voice, pulling you closer until your knees hit the chair. Forcing you to sit in his lap. “Let’s do something else.”

You sigh, putting your hands on his chest to try and push away. It’s a bad idea; skin so soft against your palm, muscles so broad and firm. Mouth watering, you swallow before shaking your head. “You don’t have time.”

“I can make it.” Chan’s hands slip in your back pockets as his lips brush against yours. Slowly, almost teasing before he lets them connect. “I didn’t get enough of your cunt this morning. Don’t let me go on stage frustrated.”

When you sigh, he knows he’s won you over.

“Fine.” You start to move out of his lap, dropping to your knees between his leg. “But only head.”

Is it because your on a time crunch? Or do you just miss the smile he gives you? The condescending way he says “Sure, baby”? Or are you just too focused on the tent in his tight pants, cock already rock hard from just some heavy petting?

He lips his hips to help you pull his pants down, cock springing out and hitting his defined abdomen heavily. Palm wrapping around the base, you let your hand work freely up and down. A little pressure, a little slow. Exactly how Chan likes it.

“That’s it, baby.” He groans, pulling your hair back in a makeshift pony. “Now spit on it.”

You look up at him with wides eyes, locking in the contact as your spit on the tip of his cock. It makes you start to lose all sense of reality when his lips part, deep moans so prettily filling the small dressing room.

“Good fucking girl.”

You’ve always felt so powerful when you’re kneeled before him. Spit clinging to your bottom lip, you smile up at him. This man, who goes on stage every night, commanding the attention of millions and swooning every being in the stadium—

“Thank you, daddy.”

Crumbles so easily when it comes to you.

Before he can try to control your movements, you’re wrapping your lips around his cock. The weight against your tongue is mind numbing, little thought going into how you take him all in one breath. Nose brushing against his pubic bone, little gags vibrating against him.

“God fucking damn.” His head rolls back against the chair, loudly moaning your name. You want to scold him, warn him how problematic it would be if someone found out about the two of you.

But there’s no time, and you can’t really find it in yourself to care.

Legs pressing together, you start to find the perfect rhythm. Slightly sloppy, very deep down your throat. Just like Chan taught you, tongue flicking over the tip and teeth brushing the shaft. The perfect way to make him fill your mouth, to cum intensely.

With the taste of him is heavy on your tongue, and the gentle way he’s pulling your hair, you’re starting to get more pent up. The static taking over your body, setting it ablaze. Forcing a hand in between your legs, desperately unbuttoning your jeans to force it inside your dampened panties.

Fingers rub tight, quick circles on your clit. Chan’s thighs starting to shake, his moans more broken and whiny. Close. It won’t take long.

“That’s it. Fuck.” He curses. “Such a good little cock slut for—“

The words catch in his throat when he looks down. Sees your eyes shut in bliss, the hand stuffed in your pants. And then he’s pulling you up by the hair, knocking the products off the counter to throw you in it.

You gasp, but he clasps a hand over your mouth before much more noise can be made.

“Do not fucking tell me,” he’s tugging your pants down, not stopping until they’re with the makeup on the floor, “that I don’t have time. Do you really think I fucking care?”

His cock is inside you, spit and slick making it easy to slide all the way in. Hands wrapping around his wrist and nails digging into his skin, you moan into the palm. Head hitting the mirror with a thud.

It wouldn’t be hard to guess what’s happening in this same room. Skin on skin, muffled moans and curses. Hidden relationship be damned; Chan’s sick and tired of not getting to fuck you whenever he fucking wants.

A loud knock. “It’s time, Chan—“

“Two more minutes.” His hips don’t stop, fucking you hard enough to make the flimsy counter creak.

“We don’t—“

“I said.” His head snaps around, voice raised and frustrated. “Two. More. Minutes.”

Each words is emphasized with a hard thrust. Your body is tensing up, stars starting to cloud your field of vision. Chan moves his hand, gripping your cheeks instead. Grabbing your attention.

“You don’t get to tell me no anymore.” He growls, the feral look in his eyes almost frightening. “Got it?”

Quickly nodding, you reach for him. Needing him closer. “Yes, d-daddy—“

“Good. Now fucking kiss me.”

Your arms wrap around his shoulders, slamming your lips against his soft ones. The lip color is rubbing off, melting with each flick of your tongues. He’s starting to get lazy; not moving as roughly, as quickly. As if those two minutes were an eternity.

What were you in such a rush for anyway?

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

Thoughts on a boxing match with min/chan where you ask them to teach you and you end up manhandled to the floor and floored

the way i stopped breathing—

SMUT — MINORS DNI

“You throw shitty punches.”

“You’re a shitty teacher.”

“Oh? Is that why you asked me to train you?”

You drop your fists, face twisting in annoyance as you glare at your friend. There’s a smug smile on his face, one that you were fully expecting. Minho finds far too much enjoyment in your struggles.

“I actually asked Chan.” You say, tugging the gloves off and letting them hit the floor. They bounce a bit, rolling to the edge of the ring. “You inserted yourself into this.”

“Trust me, you much rather have me train you than him.” Minho, who opted for gauze instead of gloves, starts to unravel it. Though he called you weak, his hands are glowing red. A little swollen. Good, you hope it fucking hurts. “Just because he has more muscles doesn’t mean he’s better at fighting.”

You’ve walked towards a corner of the ring, picking you water bottle up off a stool. “What, and you are?” You ask following a long drink, holding it out to offer him some.

God, you hate how cocky he can be. Menacing smile, playfully evil eyes as he takes the bottle from you. As he drinks, he’s sure to make eye contact with you. Raise his brows a bit. You scoff in disgust and look away, acting like the bobbing of his Adam’s apple isn’t making you uncomfortably warm.

“Mhm.” He caps the bottle, returns it to its home on the stool. “Chan might be stronger, but I’m faster.”

You can’t help the laugh of disbelief you give. This can’t be serious. What is this shit? “Sure, Min, whatever helps you cope—“

“I’m not joking.” He’s so serious, it’s almost chilling. The playful expression he had is gone, replaced with his normal, almost cold one. The laugher is gone, replaced with a shiver you try to hide. “He’s bigger, which means he’s slower. To swing, to move, even to react. By the time he’s ready to land a blow, I’m already out of range.”

“You’re full of shit.”

Minho shrugs, and you think that’s the end of it. What time is it? It feels like you’ve been here forever. As you turn your head to look for the clock, you see something in the corner of your eye. Sharp reflexes have you ducking, narrowly missing your friend’s punch.

“What the fuck?” You shout, popping back up in anger.

There’s that aggravating smile. “See. Have to be quick.”

This. This is exactly why you asked Chan and not Minho. Blood boiling, you snatch your gloves off the ground. His eyes are on you the entire time, fire dancing in his eyes at your reaction. Once they’re secure, you swing.

And miss. Light on his feet, he bounces back. Just out of reach. Another one, another dodge. He laughs this time, avoiding each punch with a hit.

“Faster, come on!” Minho coaches. “You’re so close—“

“Shut up!” You snap, chest heaving as you begin this dance around the ring.

Punch. Duck. Swing. Miss. The fucking rabbit narrowly avoiding your shot every single time. As irritating as it is, you’re starting to become more confident. Your aim is better, there’s more force behind each blow.

You hate the smile he gives you. One of pride. One that makes your heart start to skip beats.

Oh, you’re fucking over it.

You lunge towards him, determined to put an end to this grueling and annoying session. Before you can even raise a fist, he hooks his foot around one of your legs. Suddenly, you’re on your back, groaning as stars dance on the ceiling on the gym.

Minho has you perfectly pinned to the ground; you can’t even squirm. Strong legs locked with yours, hands on your wrists and keeping them to your sides.

The smug smirk is back, and he’s leaning in. Nose close to yours, warm, minty breath fanning across your face.

“Still think I’m full of shit now?”

Stars begin to fall, yellow, white, and a soft pink as they land in the tight space in between your bodies. Some of them are cool, like the low octave of his voice. Some are warm, complimenting the fire in your belly. The gravity they bring has a pulling sensation. Follow the light, let it show you how it shines.

You have nothing to say, blinking up at your friend. His body has never been this close to yours, strong thigh perfectly wedged between your legs. It seems like he’s aware of this; the stars are beginning to dim as he gets closer, burning. Ready to explode when the tips of your noses meet. Lips hovering—

The metal door makes a loud door when it’s shut, scaring the pretty lights away. They spin back up to the ceiling, gone as quickly as they appeared. Minho gives an annoyed grunt, snapping his head to see who crashed this closed practice.

Chan stands near the door, gym bag in hand. His grey, cutoff gym shirt is drenched in sweat, obviously coming from his own workout. With a raised brow, he laughs.

“Am I interrupting something?”

The question snaps you out of the haze, gloved fists banging against Minho’s chest. Grunting, trying harder to escape his hold. If the others get wind of the compromising position, you’ll never live it down.

“Fucking move, you cunt—“

“You did.”

The gloves hit the mat with a thud, staring at Minho in complete shock. What the fuck is he doing? Whatever was sparkling is long gone, way out of reach now. Ruined by Chan. It should be left to fizzle away, never to be spoken of again.

With a laugh, he drops his bag, walking up to the ring. “Apologies, I thought we were training.”

You don’t like the look Minho gives you before he sits up, a small but evil grin on his face as he looks at his friend.

“We are.”

It takes him only a second to flip you onto your stomach. Before you can do much as protest, Chan is kneeling in front of you. A hand clasped over your mouth.

He clicks his tongue. “Didn’t you want our help?”

The braids you had so painstakingly put in this morning are untangled with little care. Chan has a rough grip on your hair, keeping your nose flush to his hipbone. Though you gag, cry, drool, he doesn’t move. Staring down at you with dark eyes and parted lips.

With a tap to his thigh, you could end this. Make him release you, and the three of you will leave. Never to speak of this again.

But the weight of his cock on your tongue is almost as heavenly as the one buried deep in your cunt.

Minho moves his hips in an agonizing motion. Hands on your ass, he kneads the flesh. Teases you other hole, thumb just barely inside. The tip of him nudges your walls deeper than anyway has, fluttering and clenching as the new feeling brings the stars back to earth.

Slowly, Chan pulls you off his cock. He thinks it’s precious how you cough, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.

“Aww, poor thing.” A thumb collects the mix of spit and precum on your chin, pushing it back into your mouth. Quickly, you work around the digit just as you had with his cock. “Not used to this much attention at once?”

Your glassy eyes blink up at him, hardly processing the question. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why can’t you think? Where are the words that are spinning in your hallow mind, refusing to leave?

Minho laughs at his friend’s question, thrusting into you hard enough to make you unsteady. You slip, sweaty hands unable to hold you up.

“Of course not, hyung.” The way he smacks you makes your entire body sting, cries aching along with the sound of it. “Think about who you’re talking to. She’s too much of a good girl.”

You hate the way he speaks to you. You hate the way you love it, clinching and whining at the insult.

Chan smiles fondly at you, pulling his thumb from your mouth and quickly replacing it with his cock again. He guides you, setting the tempo himself while you work your tongue around it.

“Maybe with some training,” he tilts your head. Making sure you’re looking right at him. “You can be our good girl.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #minho smut #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

Okay: but like break-up sex with chan?

He wants children but you don't and I'm imagining just praise, tears and adoringly looks of love and pain.

me: happily opens asks

angst: exists

me: typing through tears

SMUT - MINORS DNI

The last truck left a little over an hour ago, memories tucked away in pink tubs and light brown, flimsy boxes. You’re only moving across town, there was really no reason to hire movers. But each time you touched a tub, or a box, everything returned to you. Why your stuff was packed away, the five hour “argument” last week.

Was it even an argument? Maybe it started that way. He had come home late. Mail in hand, excited to show you an announcement Changbin had sent. You smiled when you opened it, sharing in your partner’s joy.

“I can’t wait for that to be us.”

And then it crashed. Voices raised in frustration, pain. Tears flooding the tiny kitchen as you both walked in circles. Back and forth, back and forth, until your voice was raw and his eyes were on fire. It was just past four in the morning, and your back was against the fridge. Chan sat directly across from you, head rolled back against the cabinet. He’s sniffling, and you’re exhausted.

“What now?”

All things considered, it was amicable. There was no resentment on either end; both of you knew this could be possible. Though you both hoped and hoped someone would budge. Change their mind.

Neither of you did, and thus ended the most beautiful thing on the planet. The apocalypse on the horizon, each second more precious than the last. When a love like this dies, so does everything around it.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

The front door opens. Shuts. Heavy, familiar footsteps up the stairs. Turn to the right, reach for the bedroom door handle—

But the door is propped open. And inside you sit, knees to chest. Chin on knees. Tears in eyes.

“I didn’t want to leave until you got back.”

Chan nods, trying to focus his attention on anything but how drastically different the bedroom looks. Even if there aren’t any noticeable changes, he can tell the difference. There’s something missing. As if without it, there’s no life.

“Thank you.” His voice is raspy. Still heavy with tears.

You simply nod, finally looking at him. Fuck. Fuck, why would you do that? The agony is back, claws and teeth, ripping you to shreds.

At least you won’t have to watch the world implode.

“This sucks.” You bring the heel of your palms to your eyes, rubbing roughly. Don’t cry. Don’t. Do. It.

Chan huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Fucking sucks.”

“Chan, I’m so sorry—“

He waves the apology away. Out the window, as if it never existed. “You have nothing to apologize for. We can’t help our wants.”

Can’t help our wants. Like either of you want this.

You finally stand, feet hitting the hardwood floor. Though the urge to give the room once last look tugs on you, you can’t do it. You’re already barely breathing.

“Hug?”

No is never an option. Not when it comes to him, not when it comes to you. Arms open, Chan accepts your embrace, giving you a firm squeeze. You let your eyes shut, holding back every tear that wants to spill. In the car. Not here.

He cradles the back of your head, pressing a light kiss at the top. “I’m always going to be here, you know? This isn’t the end of us. It’s just…”

He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t need to.

You look up, not leaving his embrace even for a second. “I’m always going to love you, Chan.”

The first tear comes from him. “Always have loved you, and never will stop.”

What is this force? The grounds are crumbling and separating, yet they’re pulling you together. Who kisses first, was it you? Offering a final goodbye? Or him? Desperate to remember your taste?

Does it truly matter?

In the distance, there are explosions. The dusk sky lighting up with a million fireworks. Planets, stars, universes. The end of it all.

You’re certain his shirt came off first. Followed by your sweater, both in a pile by the door. It’s when your back hits the bed that things blur; firsthand accounts are never truly accurate.

How will you remember the end of the world?

Limbs tangled, tongues clashing. Chan knows just how to please you. Deep thrusts, softly pressing your sweet spot. It’s not too fast, but not too slow. The perfect way to love you.

Your knees buckle, thighs twitch. Breaking the kiss, you search your ex’s eyes. In the galaxy, there’s only one thing left. A small, golden orb. Home to you and him.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

“F-fuck.” You say breathlessly. “‘S good. S-so good.”

And he smiles. Oh, how it brightens the room even when the sky is on fire. “Yeah?”

A nod.

“Good.” He grunts as he starts to drag out his thrusts. Making it even better. “That’s what you deserve, angel.”

He’s beautiful. Perfectly sculpted face, wonderful smile, bright eyes. Otherworldly. You’re proud to say he was once yours.

“I love you.” Chan says again. Though you’ll never tire of it, it breaks your soul to hear it. Like this. “Until the end of times. I adore you, my girl.”

You sniffle. Cry. It’s okay. “B-but.”

There’s no need for more.

“You’re always mine.” His voice cracks. “My girl. Until the e-end of time.”

When your lips crash again, the rumbling is louder.

How will you remember the end of the world?

You hope like this.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz angst #stray kids angst #bang chan angst #chan angst #chvnnie thots #chvnnie moots

[chvnnie]

Hannie thoughts 🩷

He pursued you so sweetly and now you're expecting a sweet slow courtship. But now that he realizes just how into him you are, he takes full advantage. Rough in the bedroom confident Jisung. 😍 Y/n overwhelmed but secretly loves it.

“courtship” gave me royal vibes. soooOoOOOo

also idk why this is so long!!! im sorry!!! this concept got the best of me!!!

tell me you love royal aus without telling me 🫠

SMUT — MINORS DNI

The kingdom is lucky to have Jisung on their throne. Crowned as a mere teenager, nobody expected the Young King to thrive. What could he possibly know about ruling a kingdom? In three years time, they’ll lose all credibility, and he his head. Just watch; a boy cannot be King.

Within a year, all ill words spoken about the King were silenced. Charismatic, yet shy, he found his footing in royal life with ease. Leading council meetings, carefully listening and fairly judging every case brought to the court. Age is deceiving; the people haven’t had a leader of this quality in many, many years.

It wouldn’t be fair to say Jisung is just a good King. Even though ten years have passed since his coronation, he can still be found dressed in plain clothes without jewels or his crown, riding into town on his precious golden mare. She is cared for by his Hand, and best friend, as he walks the market.

Not a single stall is passed by him, even if the products are the same as the day before. Carefully, he will look over each and every item while making small talk.

“Alright this morning, Sir?”

“Is this a new recipe? The bread is sweeter than usual — it’s wonderful!”

“Oh my, your craft has improved greatly! I am impressed, keep at it!”

And then the King hands them exactly three gold coins even if he has no intention of buying anything. They’ll offer him something; a small item, or a piece of food, but he always denies it. A gift for them. Encouragement. Proof that he sees their skills and what they bring to the kingdom and is appreciative of it. It also reminds them that he truly cares about them as people. Without them, this city wouldn’t flourish the way it does.

Occasionally, he’ll buy something from the baker. He’s particularly fond of the blueberry poppy bread she makes. She’s a good woman; her husband fought hard and loyally for his father, and for that Jisung is eternally grateful for. Some weekends, he’ll visit her in her cottage. Have tea with her, listen to stories of her late beloved and all the great things he did in life.

She always gets five coins. But shush, don’t tell anybody.

At the end of the market is the only stall he’ll buy from everyday. Brown paper, pink twine, white daisies. The same thing, everyday. The florist always gives him a warm smile.

“How is she?”

And it brings a smile to The King’s face. The genuine care in their tones — because he genuinely cares.

“Well.” He digs in his coin purse, always pulling out too many coins. Just speaking about his love tinges his cheeks a dark pink. “As always.”

An exchange — coins, flowers. “When will you wed?”

“Shortly after my celebration day.” He denies the return of extra coins, as usual. “The autumn weather is her favorite.”

“Wish her well for me.”

“Of course.”

Jisung is a man of routine. Personal goodbyes to each and every merchant before he’s back on his horse. The sky is still pink when he’s back at the castle. The Hand takes his horse so the King can walk through the cool halls. Take the winding stairs up to the top level, where the royal family sleeps.

It used to just be him in this hall. Echoey, empty, reminding him of what price has to be paid for him to take the throne.

Not now, though. The room at the opposite end of the hall is now filled, well loved and used.

Taking a right from the staircase brings him to the door. Kindly dismissing the guard, the King knocks three times. A code; announcing himself without having to.

“Come in!”

The curtains are pushed open, fresh sunlight spilling in from the many windows. Yesterday’s daisies are in a crystal vase, sat on the table in the sitting area. Beautifully bloomed, the floral scent filling the golden room.

You’re by the biggest window, sat on the ledge. The glass is pushed open just slightly, letting the spring breeze cool your body. The dress you’re wearing is one of Jisung’s favorites; off the shoulder, a lavender color with little flowers stitched into the neckline with white thread.

The most beautiful soon-to-be Queen the land has ever seen.

“Good morning, petal.” The nickname rolls off his tongue. “Rest well?”

Closing the book, you nod. “And you, my dear?”

“All right.” Only a few steps away, he takes the bouquet out from behind his back and presents it to you. “For you. As always.”

Oh, the bright smile you give him. It’s like he’s falling in love with you all over again. Gracefully, you rise from your seat and take the fresh flowers, bringing to your nose to sniff.

“They’re lovely, Jisung. Thank you.”

Everyday, a peck to his cheek. Quick — you’re far too shy to linger. The King has a routine. So he turns his head just slightly, left side of his face presented to you. Ready to receive your gratitude.

The routine breaks. Swiftly, you walk past your fiancé, taking the flowers to the vase. Leaving him stunned.

Strange.

“I was wondering if today we might ride to the sea?” You don’t look to him as you speak — actually, it looks like you’re trying to hide behind the white flowers. “I’ve been a tad homesick.”

The steps he takes are cautious. “Of course.” Hesitance is laced in his tone. This isn’t your ordinary behavior. “What’s on your mind, darling?”

It’s like you’ve seen a ghost, blood running from your face and eyes widen. But in a snap, the expression is gone. “Oh, nothing. I want to write about the sea, you know how my brother loves it.”

Carefully, Jisung takes a seat on your velvet sofa. “Ah, yes. How is Seungmin?”

“His letters say he is well. The ocean is treating him nicely, though I wish he wouldn’t have chosen that path.”

Son and daughter of a prestigious family. One to be Queen, the other a runaway pirate.

“There’s always room for him in our kingdom. He would do well with us.”

You swallow dryly. What is happening? “The gracious and merciful Young King, what would this world be without you?”

Jisung can’t take this anymore. What has gotten into his beloved? Where is your head at? Grabbing your wrist, he pulls you away from the vase. Making you stand in front of him.

“Speak your worries.”

“I have none, Your Grace—“

“Though merciful, you know I hate to be made a fool.” His eyes narrow, but expression stays soft. “Love, let me help.”

You can’t meet his gaze, staring at the slit in your dress as you speak. “I’m afraid my thoughts are…doubtful.”

“Of?”

Finally, your eyes meet.

“Oh.”

What good is a crown? What good is a throne? What good is this kingdom if you are not by his side? Emotions tear at him, making his lip tremble despite his best efforts.

“Not of that kind.” You quickly reassure, catching the hurt on his face. “You are my love, Jisung. I would never want a life without you.”

“Good, good.” He won’t deny his worry. That isn’t fair to you. “Then what is it?”

Jisung thinks you’re precious. You still get so shy around him, even after years together. Especially when you want to express your feelings or ask for something.

Reassuringly, he rubs his thumb over the top of your hand, still caught in his. “You don’t have to—“

“I don’t want to wait any longer.”

The way you said it, so firm and confident. As if you’ve been pondering this, an opinion you’ve held for a while and are now sure of. The King is taken aback briefly, trying to figure out what your words mean.

“For the wedding?” It’s all he can come up with, but even he doesn’t sound too sure in it. “I’m sure we could plan it for the upcoming solstice, my love, if that’s what you desire.”

You shake your head quickly, and he can tell you’re starting to second guess saying it. “No, no. I want to wed in autumn. I don’t want to wait for you.”

What ever could you mean? Wait for him? Why, he’s right here. Touching you, speaking to you. Are you feeling ill? Those words make no—

Oh.

Oh, how he made himself the fool.

Suddenly, he’s in dire need of wine. Mouth dry, tongue heavy. Though he’s had many, many dreams of you in such a way, never would he push it on you. You felt as if your body was sacred, and he respected that. The King wants nothing but for you to feel comfortable and safe around him. If you were waiting for him, he would be waiting for you as well.

Sometimes the dresses you wear do drive him mad. Form fitting and hugging your curves, or with a lower neckline that he can see down at the right angle. Those have made it hard, and only starved him more. Like dangling bread in front of the hungry.

“Are you certain?” Jisung finally speaks, tone dropping several octaves.

You nod, softly wrapping your other hand around the one he has grasped. It’s so delicate, how you drop to your knees in front of him. Starry eyes blinking at him.

“More than, my King.” You bring the hands to your lips, soft kisses across his knuckles. “My patience is dry. I no longer want to wait for your love.”

“Rise.”

“What?”

“Your King gave you a command.” His demeanor changes like a switch, the feral need he’s drowned for so long rising to the surface. “Rise. No Queen of mine will ever kneel, even for me.”

Your eyes never leave his, standing up fully in front of him. He follows, using your hand as a guide up and into your body. A hand on the left side of your neck, fingers creeping into your perfectly combed hair. It’s used to bring your lips to his, properly kissing you.

Many kisses have been shared between you, but none like this. It’s intense, every pent up and buried feeling finding new life with the movement of your lips. It’s more addictive than the blueberry poppy bread from the baker, tongues desperate for the taste to linger. For the feelings to stay.

Loving you is a greater honor than the crown, the King is sure of it.

He curses your corset, making you giggle when he spins you gracefully to get a better look at it. The tugs on it are rough, eager to get the fabric off your body. Heavens, Jisung knows he loves this dress but does it have to be so dreadful to remove?

It’s too much. Your desires tangle with his own, sparking brighter than the jewels on the crown. Than the gold of coins. The energy it deepens the King’s decent — the hole you’re tumbling into doesn’t have a bottom.

Your nails rip his shirt, accidentally tangling the strings of his pants in your rush. There’s no grace in the first moments. Ready to see each other’s bodies, to touch, to taste. To be one.

The King tries his best to be gentle with you. To give you the sweetest kisses, careful touches. He’s heard stories, knows that it can be too much. The last thing he wants is for you to not find pleasure in this.

But, it can only last for so long. The breaking comes with he accidentally takes your breath away — truly, he didn’t mean to place his hand there. Apologies are ready to fumble out when he sees it.

The look you give him. Shocked, a little frightened. But excited.

Jisung never considered his ego very large, but he’s open to self reflection.

“Oh, petal, is this what you like?” He squeezes your throat, tips of his fingers digging into your soft skin. Though you nod, there’s no real need for an answer. He can feel it in the clench around his cock, the legs hooked around his waist pulling him closer. With a dry laugh, he picks up the pace of his hips. Fucking you hard enough the bed is becoming unstable. “I have to admit my surprise. The shy, gentle Queen likes to be fucked like a common whore.”

As soon as the words leave, he feels a tinge of regret. What harsh words to say to someone he loves—

Do his eyes deceive him? You’re whimpering, nodding your head. Unable to speak from the lack of air, but in full agreement.

Heavens. The King is done for.

“I’m sure they’d be glad to have you at the brothel.” Control is lost, the wooden frame starting to crack under the King’s intense movements. “Let the people have a taste of the King’s favorite cunt.”

“N-no.” You seem to speak. “Only y-you—“

“Aw, don’t be selfish, petal.” He pinches your cheek, finding joy in the tears painting your face. “You know I am a generous ruler.”

Jisung enjoys riling you up like this. Enjoys the tears, the cries, the way you’re twitching and squirming underneath him. Not to escape. No, from the force of something world shattering.

“Are you going to cum?” He teases you. “From those awful threats?”

You cannot help yourself, nodding quickly. Little, soft begs falling from your lips.

Maybe Jisung is power hungry. Maybe the crown has gone to his head. Maybe that’s why he laughs, stopping to leave you right on the edge. You’re so distraught, wide eyed and frantically begging for him to finish.

“Oh, but petal. I never said I would be generous to you.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung smut #han smut #jisung smut #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

Ok so this:

Hyunjin with a breeding kink. He reveals this to y/n who happily complies (finds it sexy honestly) but reveals they can’t have kids due to a hysterectomy.

Can either go REALLY crazy and hot or be the saddest thing ever.

ooooooh. this is interesting. i really don’t think i can emotionally handle writing anymore angst so 😭

SMUT — MINORS DNI

The game was your idea. You found it on a shelf at some random store deep in the mall, discounted from how long it’s sat there. It could be a waste of five bucks, or it could be the best thing you’ve ever bought. Well, probably not to that extreme, but it could be fun.

It was Hyunjin’s idea to add alcohol. A bottle of deep red wine in the prettiest glasses you’ve ever seen. They make you feel almost elegant as you read the trashy cards.

Some make you cringe, laughing at the poorly worded questions on the flimsy cards. “Read it!” He exclaims when you refuse, snatching it out of your hand if you keep resisting. It’s all good fun, a great way to get to know your new boyfriend a little better.

You’ve only been official for about three months, but have known him for six. A friend of a friend, the plus one to a wedding you were apart of. He wasn’t as sly as he thought — eyes on you the entire ceremony and reception. It only took about three songs for him to introduce himself. Smooth, handsome. Compliments your hair, your name, your dress. Intentionally making you feel a little bashful before he asks you to dance.

How could you not give him your number?

It’s been great. Hyunjin makes you happy, the butterflies that swarm when his name is even mentioned drowning you. Head over heels for this boy already.

It was easy to pick up the game and buy it. You want to know everything about him; from the way he likes to fold his clothes to things he’s only feels comfortable sharing with you. What better place to start than a trashy game about sex?

You take a long drink of your wine as you grab a new card, reading over it twice as your smile grows.

“Oh, fuck.” Hyunjin says with a shy, downing the rest of his wine. “I don’t like that smile.”

“Why not?” You giggle.

“It’s menacing.”

You crinkle your nose, sticking your tongue out before reading it aloud. “What is your biggest kink?”

Your boyfriend scoffs, reaching for the bottle on the coffee table. “That’s it? Kind of a vanilla question.”

“Yet,” you hold out your glass for a refill of your own, “you’re not answering it.”

He smiles at you, leaning in to peck your wine stained lips. “Because I want you to go first.”

“Oh, that’s not fair—“

“Come on, baby.” Hyunjin whines as he scoots a little closer, pointer finger under your jaw as he pulls you in. His lips hover just above yours, breath making your body buzz with excitement. “I’ll make it up to you.”

You hate how fucking whipped you are for him. With a sigh, you agree, elating your sweet boyfriend. It takes you a moment, trying to narrow down the long listen is more difficult than you assumed. When it hits you, you beam at him. Reach for his hands, which he happily gives you.

“I like,” you bring the large hand up to your throat, wrapping the slender fingers around it. His eyes darken immediately, huffing a low laugh as he wets his lips, “among other things.”

Hyunjin raises his brows, flexing his fingers around your neck and tugging you closer to him. “What other things?”

You smile at him, giggling when he squeezes a little harder. “It’s you turn. Maybe then I’ll tell you more.”

The hungry look he gives you last a beat too long, as if he’s considering whether or not he should tell you, or show you. Hyunjin clears his throat, thumb reaching up to rub your bottom lip.

“Breeding.” He says in a near whisper. “I want to pump you so full and watch my cum drip out of you, angel.”

Even though his words make your skin tingle, the alcohol only aiding in exciting you, you can’t help the dread that’s heavy in your stomach. “Oh? Do you—“ you swallow around his palm. “—do you want kids?”

The question seems to throw him off, but he just shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m not attached to the idea either way.”

All you can do is nod, dropping your gaze to the crystal glass in your hands. Your body is feeling cold, a little shake making you unsteady. Hyunjin quickly picks up on your change in behavior, dropping his hand to give you some space.

“Are you alright?” He’s gentle, head tilted as he looks at you in concern. “I didn’t mean to upset you—“

“You didn’t.” You grabbed his hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “It’s not you at all. It’s just—“ you take a shaky breath, racking your brain in how to say this. How do you bring it up? You knew you would have to eventually, but you didn’t think it would be so soon. It’s been such an easy, fun night. Should a topic like this really be brought up?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.” Hyunjin says softly. “We can wait until you’re ready.”

With a shake of your head, you refuse. It’s hard to meet his gaze as you tell him the story. Not once does he interrupt, or question. Listening carefully as you tell him the entire story in a soft voice.

It’s silent when you finish, his thumbs rubbing the tops of your hands. Neither speaking, letting the information take hold.

“I’m sorry.” You finally say, tears stinging your eyes. He’s been quiet for far too long. “If that ruins anything—“

“Hey, no.” Hyunjin says, cupping your face so he can catch the tears before they fall. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

Everything about him makes you fall so deep, so fast for him. Not once has he made you feel unwanted or unsafe, gentle and careful with you regarding everything. Even if you feel like you don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve him.

“But, if you ever want children—“

“Then we’ll figure it out.” He says simply. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

It’s so earnest, impossible not to believe. “Thank you.”

Hyunjin pulls you in close, kissing the center of your forehead. “You don’t have to thank me.” He mumbles. “Besides, it’s pretty hot.”

You can’t help the laugh of disbelief you give, looking at your boyfriend with wide eyes. “Huh?”

“I can cum in you as much as I fucking want, and we never have to worry about it?” His smile is wide, a little mischievous. “Oh, baby, I’m going to fill you up so good.”

What’s worse — how hard you accidentally hit him or the how much that comment set you off? You try to wiggle out of his hold, making a comment about him before a pervert, but he’s quick. Bringing you in for a kiss, smiling into your lips as he feels you melt in his hold.

The cheap cards get scattered across the living room carpet, the bottle of wine tipped over and dripping slowly onto the white carpet. There’s little to no concern about the stain it’s leaving, not when Hyunjin has your legs hooked over your shoulders. Bending you into a press with a hand locked around your throat.

He has the brightest smile on his face, moaning along with you. Yours are a little more broken, gasps here and there as you try to get more air.

“You’re clenching me so hard, angel.” His low voice only winds you up more, clawing at his biceps hard enough to draw blood. “Was my baby feeling a little needy?”

Nodding in agreement, you try your best to keep your eyes open. Not wanting to look away from him for even a second. His dark hair has fallen in his face, framing it beautifully. Plush lips between his teeth, swollen from yours and stained from the wine.

Hyunjin is the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. Kind and gentle. Sweet and caring. Giving you everything you’ve ever wanted, ever needed, without even second guessing.

You reach up, tucking his hair out of his face. The soft touch so different than the ones he’s giving you.

The words leave your mouth without any real hesitation, eyes sparkling and chest full as you finally say what’s been building and building since he asked you to dance. His hips slow in surprise, stars starting to appear in his dark eyes.

“Really?”

You trace his perfect jawline, completely in awe of the man you’ve fallen so hard for. “Really.”

Lips crash, thrusts even faster than before. Hard, sloppy, as he tries to show you that he shares the sentiment in every possible way. When you finish, it’s only when he allows it. Desperate to get there with you.

“I love you, too.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

My hard this today are soft dom bossy Chan. Literally desperate for a kiss, willing to follow any command.

It’s a Chan day and I LOVE it.

SMUT - MINORS DNI

Anything baby could ever want, baby gets. You don’t even have to ask, really; just bat your lashes at him and push your lower lip out a teeny bit, and he’s at your service.

Hungry? Let’s feed you. Sleepy? Lay your head on his chest, he’ll keep you warm. Need a new book/dress/literally anything? Charge it to his card.

Chan makes sure the world is at the palm of your hands. It’s what you deserve, after all. If anything, he wishes he could give you more.

But today, you’re request is simple.

“Pleaaaassseee?” You whine playfully, scooting the rolly chair across the tiny studio to be right next to him. “Just one?”

Your boyfriend doesn’t look up from his laptop, headphone only covering one ear to listen to your pleas. “Give me like…three more minutes, baby. I just really need to finish this—“

“It’s just a kiss, Chan.”

The way his eyes shut when he sighs tugs on his heart. He hasn’t been sleeping much, too busy trying to ready everything for this comeback that he’s put himself on the backburner. You’ve been giving him space and support, wanting to be there for him during his busy season. Understanding when he doesn’t come home or answer calls, or when he has to leave mid date night because Jisung deleted a file…again.

But you really feel like this isn’t a big ask. That’s why you keep pressing it.

“Baby, please.” He finally looks at you, and the exhaustion is heavy in his dark eyes. “My focus is going to break if I stop for even a second. Let me do this, and then I’m all yours. I promise.”

It’s not a big ask from him. It’s only a short amount of time — you probably won’t even notice it passing.

But God, his lips are so soft. So plush. You just want to feel them, to bite them.

With a pout, you roll back over to your corner. Pick up your book, mumbling an “‘Kay” in defeat. Want for nothing your ass; you’ve never been so desperate for something.

Each second feels like hours. Minutes like years. Chan lied — it took him five. Five whole minutes, and then the headphones are haphazardly thrown on the desk. Click, click, click. File save AND locked to prevent it from “disappearing” (“I swear, hyung!” Jisung whined over the phone. “I didn’t do anything it just…disappeared!”).

“Baaaaaby.” He singsongs, this time scooting over to you. “Guess what time it is—“

The look you shoot him makes him pause his movements, only making it about halfway. Eyebrows raised, he tilts his head to the side in confusion.

“What’s wrong—“

“Don’t wanna talk.” You say, pulling your knees to your chest. Pretending to be too into your book to pay him mind. “Just give me three minutes.”

With a sigh, your boyfriend takes his beanie off. “Baby-“

“All I wanted was a kiss.” You pout even harder, dropping the paperback book on the desk. “But noooooo.”

The fuss your making about a little kiss is a little much. It wasn’t like it was that long of a time to wait, it’s already over. Normally, Chan wouldn’t entertain this type of behavior. Would correct it immediately — this? This is the hill you want to die on?

But today it’s so…cute. He can’t help but chuckle, continuing his journey over to you.

“Aww, pouty girl.” He coos, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You try to swat his hand away, but he’s not budging. “No need for all this.”

“Chan.” You try your best to keep your voice firm, as if he can’t feel your cheeks flushing, the heat burning his fingertips. “Stop it—“

“If you want one so bad, come get it.”

His tone is playful. So, you give in. Using your chair, you get closer to him. Chan is perfectly still, giving you a smile as you close in on him. Nose to nose, lips not even an inch apart—

Pushing on his toes, he slides his chair all the way across the room.

“That’s not fair!”

“Oh? Do you not want it then?” His smile grows wicked. He knows what you want — but silly, silly girl. Did you think it would be that easy? “Come on, then.”

Thus starts the game. You get out of the chair, rushing over to him. You get all the way into his lap, closing in quickly when he dodges your lips. As you cry out in frustration, he grabs your hips. Stands up. Turning on his heels, your back is now pressed to the wall.

“You’ve got to try harder!” He laughs. “It’s like you don’t really want it.”

“You’re mean.” You pout, palms finding his shoulders and attempting to push him away. As if you’re not pinned to the wall. Under his mercy.

“Oh, am I?” His voice is laced with faux sadness, the fake emotion taking over his entire face. Lips, eyes, brows. Acting like your insult cut him deep. “That’s not nice.”

Right as you start to speak, a hand flies from your hips. Gripping your throat and squeezing until he hears a squeak.

“But you know what else isn’t nice?” It’s like a switch was flipped; eyes now dark, expression like stone. “When you get bratty with me from a simple request.”

How he manages to unbutton your jeans and shove them down with one hand, you’ll never understand. Or try to process; everything about Chan’s demeanor has rendered you useless. Watching with wide eyes, whimpering brokenly. Savoring the little gasps of air.

“Was it worth it?” Fingers run up and down your folds roughly, not bothering to be gentle with you. When they brush against your clit, you start to squirm. “That silly little kiss?”

He asks as if you’ve gotten it. You pout, trying to speak hopelessly. “S-still need it—“

“I don’t think so.” He clicks his tongue. “I’ll decide what you need.”

Without warning, two fingers sink inside your cunt. Stopping only when he hits the knuckle. There he spreads them, scissoring your walls open. The hands on his shoulders grip his hoodie. His grip, his fingers — it’s already making you dizzy.

“Silly baby.” Once he deems his work enough, Chan starts to plunge his fingers deeper. Making sure to feel every inch of you. “Maybe next time you should let Daddy work.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

Bro, fkn made me tear up while I'm in my PMS week Lawd have mercy.

Your response was so sweet,

Okay but what would happen if they reunited years later when he has had children?

Would that spark be there?

Would he avoid her?

Would she not want to see him with another woman?

Will they enjoy one final night together?

Decisions, decisions 🤔

do you guys enjoy seeing me suffer like—

blaming you for how much I love this fucking couple and the way I couldn’t stop writing this!!! AND I TRIED!!!

it’s long. im apologizing now.

SMUT — MINORS DNI

You never fell out of contact with Chan.

Well, maybe for a few months. When everything was still fresh. It hurt too much to even see his name in your contact list; talking to him would have shattered every atom inside you.

Everything stops hurting eventually. When he called you one day, exactly five months and three days after the world ended, the pain was almost numbed. As your phone vibrated in your hand, you realized it wasn’t what you were that you missed. It was him. Chan. Your best friend, even long before the two of you became one.

You answered. And suddenly the atoms started to bounce together, the world rebuilding from scratch.

The years passed. The planet flourished. Not a day went by without a word shared between the two of you. Weddings were held — Chan’s, insistent that you were always meant to be by his side. Begging you to be his “best woman”.

“You were always meant to be at my wedding.” He said after you denied the request over and over, a little tipsy on the bottle of wine you were sharing at his engagement party. “Please. It can’t happen without you.”

The thought was shared, but never spoken. Off to the side isn’t where either of you pictured your place in it.

Yours. A spur of the moment decision, overwhelmed from planning a party that neither you or your husband really wanted. A quick search proved that tickets to Vegas were far cheaper. A bottle of shitty champagne was shared over fast food burgers that really weren’t that filling.

Or, you tell yourself it was the burger.

Your best friend almost passed out at your monthly double date night. After the shock wore off, and after he chugged a glass or two of bourbon, he smile at you from across the table.

But it looks a little sad.

“I guess you can’t help your wants, huh?”

Other milestones passed. Big birthdays, new jobs and promotions, two babies for Chan, a dog for you. All was well; the sun shining, flowers blooming, the world finally stable again.

The first earthquake came the day of the youngest’s third birthday party.

You’re in Chan’s kitchen, digging through the adult cooler for the seltzers you brought. Did somebody drink them all? Ugh, you knew that fucking bitch from across the street was being a little too sneaky with her beverage. Wait until you hit her with that cash request after the party—

The backdoor opens quickly, two sets of feet rushing inside followed by a loud slam. You jump, quickly hiding in the pantry before they can make it into the kitchen.

“Will you just talk to me?” It’s Chan.

“How many times are you going to ask me about it?” His wife. “Fuck, can you just drop it—“

“I just think it’s pretty convenient that your boss brings up another business trip, just the two of you, today.”

Silence. A drawer slams.

“Are you really going to ruin your son’s party like this, Christopher?”

The snicker Chan gives raises the hairs on your arm. “Are you really going to keep pretending like you’re not fucking your boss?”

You have to clasp a hand over your mouth to silence the loud gasp that escapes you. It’s not like it was any secret that they’re having problems; he confided in you months ago that things have started to get rocky. Never, ever, did you expect this, though.

She storms out, saying something under your breath that you can’t hear. Door slams. Chan sighs into the empty kitchen, probably running his fingers through his hair if had to guess—

“I know you’re in there.” He sounds defeated. “You left your phone on the counter.”

Shit.

Slowly, you crack the door open, peeking out of the dark pantry. Your friend is leaning against the sink, arms crossed across his broad chest. There’s a small smile on his pain stricken face, eyes crinkling at the outer corners. Age treated him well.

“I wasn’t listening.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

You step out of the pantry fully, walking slowly up to your friend. There’s enough space next to him for you, which you take. Leaning side by side, staring out the large window at the party. It carries on; children laughing, eating cake. Parents chatting, chasing kids. All this joy on the other side of the thin glass, completely oblivious to the trembling beneath their feet.

You speak first. “How long have you known?”

“A while.” Chan takes a deep breath, trying to relax his shoulders. “I had hoped when she switched departments it would stop but…yeah.”

Outside the window, the curly haired boy turns in a circle. His little eyes are wide and bright, searching the crowd of grownups for a familiar face. His mom’s back is turned, he doesn’t see her. Though you’re sure he’s actually speaking, all you see is his mouth move.

Dada?

When he can’t find him, another name comes from his mouth. Scanning the sea of people for you.

The second quake comes three months later.

Chan and his wife are in therapy, and though all appears well, the cracks are deep. Wide. You can see right through the facade.

It’s cold outside. Even through your thick jacket, you can feel the heavy winter breeze. It freezes your nose, numbs your lips. You walk quickly, dog trotting alongside you in the same rush. The little boots he wears protects his paws, yet he still whimpers.

When was the last time Christmas Eve was this cold?

There’s a fire crackling when you open the front door, your dog barely off the leash before she barrels to it. Jumping on her little boots, trying to warm up.

“Fuck, it’s cold.” You curse, shedding the many layers you wore. “I literally thought I was going to get frostbite.”

Your husband doesn’t give more than a hum in acknowledgment, nose in his book. Plopping on the couch next to him, you lean in to give him a kiss.

And he moves away.

“All good?” The concern is heavy in your voice.

Nothing. Just a hum.

“Can I have a kiss?”

“I’m busy.”

“Reading. The same book you read every winter.”

It’s harsh, the way he slams the book shut. When he looks up at you, you can help but recoil. Scooting just a bit back from him. The look in his eyes is so…different.

“Can you just give me some fucking space? Please?” He doesn’t raise his voice, and that makes it all the more concerning. Scary. “God, you’re so clingy all the time.”

Oh. Your eyes drop, lips pressing into a thin line. Jeez, why does this cut so deep? It’s not the first time he’s said it to you.

“I guess—I just thought, since it’s Christmas—“

“Eve.” He’s annoyed. You awkwardly adjust yourself on the couch, bringing a sweater clad hand to your face to wipe the tears you can’t help. “Oh, please, stop crying. It’s not that deep.”

There’s a tree on the planet. It’s tall, home to leaves that change colors. Usually, it’s day by day, depending on the waves and the weather and the stars. All day they’ve been a sparkly light green. Peace. A good color.

But they’ve started to bleed, something dark taking over the peace just as the ground begins to break.

Your husband picks the book up. Not another word to you. Heart in your stomach, you head towards the staircase. “I’m going to bed.”

He doesn’t look up from the book. “Take your fucking dog with you.”

The most impactful quake comes a mere three weeks later.

You’re sat on the living room floor, a brush handled by a five year old girl roughly running through your hair. It stings a little, but there’s no point in stopping her. She’s too stubborn to listen.

“Why don’t you wear braids?” She asked in her little voice.

“Never thought about it.” You shrug.

She sighs as if this is the most awful thing you could’ve have told her. “But you would be a princess if you wore them!”

You turn your head slightly, looking up at the girl. Her eyes are her father’s, along with the exasperated look she’s giving you.

“Shit, really?”

You cringe at the word choice, but the little girl doesn’t even flinch.

“Yes.” She sighs. “Turn around, I help you.”

Can’t really argue with that. Right as you think she’s taken at least half of your hair, Chan comes into the living room. Headed straight for the front door.

“Alright, the youngest is asleep.” He’s reaching for his coat, checking his watch obsessively. He’s late. “Pizza is on the way, don’t let the monster stay up too late.”

Finger guns to his daughter, who just ignored him. Not amused with his stupid joke.

“I shouldn’t be long, maybe three hours tops.” Chan says to you. “Changbin has kids to get home to, so I’ll be back before you can miss me too much.”

You flip him off. The daughter follows.

“Okay, don’t like do that at school or anything-“

“We’ll be alright.” You say, trying to get him out the door. Things have been more tense that usual lately; it took all of Changbin’s energy to convince him to get a drink with him. Nothing is going to keep him in this house. “Don’t have too much fun.”

The smile he gives you is so genuine. Real happiness. It’s been a while since you’ve seen that.

The pizza? Mediocre at best. The movie she picked? You hate how invested you were in that storyline. It’s like you blinked and it was time for bed, helping the little girl into her bright blue sheets.

She picks the book for you to read. Four pages, and she’s snoring.

You’ve never liked kids. Never really wanted them, either. While you still hold these sentiments, it’s hard to not like her. Her brother. There’s something about them that’s different, tugging on your heart so hard you think it will pop out of your chest.

Kids are awful. But Chan’s? You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of.

She’s been asleep about thirty minutes. Mindlessly, you click through the tv channel, trying to decide on something. Barely nine in the evening, and there’s nothing to watch? That seems like a scam—

Bang. Thunder. Flashes of lightning. The world shaking harder than it has since it’s birth about ten years ago. Chan storms inside his home, the heavy footsteps making you jump.

“Fuck!” You cry, holding a hand over your heart as you try to catch your breath. “You scared me—“

“She’s not on a trip.” He’s tearing off his coat, kicking off his shoes. Slamming the keys and wallet on the coffee table.

The wheels are turning slowly, but when they click, you feel cold. A blizzard tumbling through the planet. “What?”

Everything was fine. Chan was happy, talking with Changbin and sharing shitty wings over even shittier beer. For a second, he forgot. Forgot about his wife and her affair, the therapy that he honestly felt was a waste of time. The divorce papers in the top drawer of his office, already signed and ready to be present when his wife gets back.

He just needed to pee. Walking towards the back of the crowded bar, he saw a set of eyes he knew too well. It brings him to a halt, looking right at his wife. Who is staring right back at him. With the arm of her boss around her shoulders.

“How many times has she said she was going to be gone, just to stay in town with him?” Chan asks, his voice rising as the storm gets heavier. “Does she not give a shit about our children—“

“Who are sleeping.” You add, grabbing your friend’s biceps and squeezing them tightly. He’s getting too worked up. The feelings he had for her are long, long gone. Buried so deep they’ll never be found.

He’s not mad about the cheating. He’s mad about how she’s abandoned the children.

Chan nods before he sits on the couch. Head hanging in his hands, nails scratching his scalp. Exhausted. Lonely. Broken.

“Why did I fucking marry her?”

You take a seat next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. Your best friend, your everything. Soulmates always seem like an unbelievable concept, until you met Chan. Without a doubt, he is one of yours.

Though, the universe still seems torn on the kind.

“She wasn’t always like this.” You reassure him. “Remember how hard you fell for her? It was really cute; you couldn’t stop talking about her. Nobody expected this, Chan.”

“I did.” When he looks at you, his eyes are dark. Wide. Solid, serious expression not waving even in the intense winds. “I always knew. She never loved me like I loved—“

The sentence isn’t finished. It doesn’t need to be.

Like that, the rain has stopped. Thunder silenced, sky dark. Time has been paused, standing still as you stare at each other in the dimly lit living room. It doesn’t feel like you’re breathing. Like anything is happening.

Except for a teeny, tiny spark. Rock against rock. Fire being invented once again.

Time resumes as Chan pulls you into his lap, lips colliding intensely. His tongue is heavy on yours, deeply kissing you as if to consume you. To make up for all the kisses that should have been.

This affair isn’t driven by hurt, by the agony caused at the hands of both your spouses. It isn’t jealousy, it isn’t hate. It’s a love that always was, always will, and was always meant to be at the core of the universe.

Even the apocalypse couldn’t destroy it.

Ten years. Ten years and Chan still knows how to touch you. The little place on your collarbone that turns you into jelly. How you love when he bites roughly on your nipples, the teasing of his fingers hooking under the waistband of your jeans.

“I hate that you got married in Vegas.” He says in a growl, lowering you onto the coffee table. “I hate that you didn’t fucking tell me until you got back.”

He yanks your jeans down, taking the soft cotton panties will them. Body bare for him once again.

“I hate that I wasn’t there.” The buttons become loose as he roughly takes his shirt off. He watches as your eyes travel, following his hands to the belt he’s pulling off. A familiar awe.

It’s cute. Sets his heart on fire in the best way possible.

Grabbing your chin, he tilts your head so you’re looking at him again.

“Pay attention to me when I talk to you, baby.” He says with a smile, wetting his lips before capturing yours again. “Don’t you want to know why I hated that so much?”

You blink slowly, giving a brief nod.

Hips against hips, the head of his cock works it’s way up and down your silt. A beautiful moan, a cold shiver. Everything falling into place as he lines himself up.

“Because I was going to say no.”

He doesn’t linger. Quickly, Chan buries himself inside you, fucking you with a passion you haven’t felt in years.

“How dare you-“ hands on either side of your head, he grips the coffee table for support. “—marry someone who isn’t me?”

You’re breathless. Jaw dropped, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. It’s like no time has passed; fucking you like you need, like you deserve. Something only Chan has ever been able to do.

“You’re my girl, remember?” He grunts, eyes rolling back slightly when you clench around him. “How could you forget that?”

Shaking your head, your head rolls back. Full, wonderful moans like music to Chan’s ears.

“N-never did.” You admit, chest shaking with heavy breaths. “I’ve always been y-yours, Chan-“

When he kisses you, the world splits in two. Existence finally starting to make sense. Teeth and tongue, he loves you in the best way anyone ever has. Bodies becoming one, forces beyond your own making you whole once more.

He looks at you. Your heart skips a beat.

Has this world always been full of life, or is it all brand new? Could life exist without the two of you?

“Good.” Chan’s smile is like home. “Because I’ll never stop wanting you.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #bang chan angst #chan angst #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

bby how about lee know x temperature play 😳

ANYWAY ANY COMPLAINTS CAN BE SENT TO MY ASKS BECAUSE I DESERVE SO MUCH SLANDER FOR THIS ONE

SMUT — MINORS DNI

Minho has twisted ideas of pleasure.

Things you haven’t even considered tend to be his favorite. Thoughts he’s fed for years, ideas that have kept him up at night. Some practiced, some yet to be attempted. His head is always spinning, filed full of the most sinfully delicious ideas. So whenever he says —

“Close your eyes.”

— and puts that silk blindfold on you, your heart jumps into your throat on instinct. Fear and excitement getting muddied together, the hot and cold feelings causing your breath to quicken.

He only uses the blindfold for new things. Not for anything you’re used to. It causes your hand to shake in his, taking slow steps in whatever direction he’s chosen. He spun you around once your eyes were covered, taking away your sense of environment. It’s going to be better if you’re clueless. Helpless.

“Stop.” Minho whispers, a hand on your lower back. You do as he says, standing completely still as your partner walks away from you.

Your senses are your best friend. A creak, a click — actually, more than one. Six, it seems. A brief smell of something smoky. It’s all too hard to place, hands on your head as you try to process what’s happening. Where you’re at.

Another creak. And then there are hands on your hips, causing you to jump in surprise.

His chuckle is low. “Calm, angel. You’re going to like it, I promise.” Warm hands creep up your sides, wrapping around your back to unsnap your bra. As the cool air brushes against your nipples, causing them to pebble, his hands smoothing run down your back. Hooking your panties, body chilling as he pulls them off.

You can feel his head by your thighs. He must have squatted.

“Turn for me.”

Commands are always followed with Minho. As twisted his ideas of pleasure are, even more so are his ideas of punishment.

Slowly, you spin, letting him get a good look at your body. Once you believe you’re facing him again, you stop. Rewarded with two butterfly kisses, one on each thigh.

“Perfect, perfect girl.” He mumbles against your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt. His hands start to move again, up the back of your legs and finding home on your ass, where he squeezes once before standing — and lifting you along with him.

Gently, you’re transferred a hard, cold surface. The chill makes you flinch and gasp, legs coming up involuntarily. You hear Minho click his tongue before grabbing both your ankles, pulling them down and dragging you on the surface.

“Move again and you’ll get my belt.” He’s not in the mood to play around today.

“Yes sir.” You say softly, nodding your head to emphasize understanding.

Leather clasps your ankles, bounding you to what you’ve come to find is a table. Judging on how you’ve been stretching out, possibly the dining room one. Long and wide, perfect to spread your limbs out completely. Similar cuffs wrap around your wrists, body like an x.

Questions make your head spin. Why are you bond? Why are you on the table? But before you get a chance to breathe them, you feel your partner’s fingers on your face. Taking the blindfold off.

Your assumption was correct — it is the dining room table. The room is very dimly lit, eyes struggling to adjust. What is hovering above you? Squinting, you try to make out the circular shape.

When it becomes clear, a gasp of fear claws it’s way from your throat. While a joyous laugh comes from Minho.

The old chandelier hasn’t been used much. You didn’t really see the point — it wasn’t electric, and lighting candles every time you wanted to have a meal sounded exhausting. The table became more of a storage one, room abandoned in favor of eating in the kitchen or in front of the television.

Six candles. All lit, with wax slowly rolling down their sides. A drop falls, landing right in between your spread legs.

“You’ll never know when it’s about to happen.” He teases, still standing near your head. “Isn’t that exciting?”

It’s a slow burn. A method that can only be used if one of you has extreme patience. Unlikely for you, Minho could watch this all day.

Another drop, right on your belly. It’s warmer than you expect it to be, making you yelp in surprise. The next one, however, is hot. Hitting right on your left breast, cooling as it spreads across the skin. It’s then you realize the candles are red — warm blood spilling over you.

Your partner kisses your head before stepping away, eyes on the table the entire time.

“M-minho.” You whimper, hissing when a drop lands on your upper thigh. It’s too close to your core, an electric shock shaking your body.

“Hm?” He doesn’t bother to correct you. Too consumed with the distressed look on your face, eyes blown wide in a lustful fear. It’s too precious.

“It’s hot—“

“It’s wax.” He scoffs. “If you want it to stop, say so.”

Splat on your belly, on your rib, right on your nipple. That one, understandably, brings the first scream from you. Choking on your sob, you cry his name again.

“Say it, and I’ll move the table.” His dark eyes are fixed on you. Waiting. Knowing that you won’t say it, won’t end it.

Minho has twisted ideas of pleasure, and is the one who taught you pleasure. You like it just as much as him, if not more.

And truly, you do. When the wax starts to cool, spreading slowly down your body, it’s almost euphoric. Your head rolls back, softly moaning as another drop falls. On your throat. The sting is beautiful.

Eyes fluttered shut, you don’t notice that Minho has walked away. Don’t hear his steps fade, then rise in volume. The clinks of a glass. Too lost in your own head, hips bucking when wax hits your lower hip, to notice that he’s put something on the table.

That is, until the intense cold is pressed right against your clit.

Minho laughs when you cry out in surprise, body thrashing against the bindings. You lift your head to find him with an ice cube, and plenty more in a glass beside him.

“Relax.” He purrs, watching as a drop of wax lands on your upper thigh. His free hand presses into the puddle, spreading it out across the expanse of it. “Enjoy it.”

What do you focus on? The cold that’s taken over violently by heat the second you get used to it? The stinging wax that hurts just enough to be pleasant?

Minho works the ice cube down your core, massaging it around your folds. Your chest is heaving, the pleasure almost blinding. It’s better than euphoric; like you’re on another plane of existence, every nerve in your body icy hot. Every cell dancing, the frosty burn making you reel.

The cube melts, cold water running down your cunt. A drop of wax lands on your mound, mere inches from your clit, erasing the chill you were once smothered in.

Your mouth is dry, words almost impossible. All caught in your throat, overpowered before they can even make it to your tongue.

Somehow, you call his name. “Minho.”

It’s broken. Barely audible. Yet he looks up from between your legs, sweet brown eyes wider than you’ve ever seen them.

“Angel?”

His hands on you are neutralizing. A comfort, grounding you as the pleasure threatened to drag you away. It’s a twisted, twisted thing you’re about to ask for.

“More?”

The smile he gives is genuine, wild. Fishing for another ice cube, he lets it hover above your cunt. Drip, drip, drip the harshly cold water over you as the sweet wax burns your collarbones.

“As you wish.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know smut #minho smut #lee minho smut #skz drabbles #skz hard hours #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

I know you just did a soft dom Chan but I personally am obsessed with soft dom Changbin. Just the care-giving-est praising-est most adoring dom. He's all big and strong and he uses it to make you feel tiny (even if you physically aren't) and safe and warm I just.....

get out of my head rn this is some of my favorite shit of ALL. TIME.

i’m on the daddy dom agenda today and you’re all coming along for the journey.

SMUT — MINORS DNI

Changbin thinks it’s endearing that you still get flustered when he looks at you. How you shy away when he grabs your hand in public. The little giggle you give any time he hugs you, squeezing and lifting you as he spins in a circle.

It would be impossible to pick his favorite thing about you because everything about you is his favorite. So, he tries to narrow it down depending on the moment. What has him so infatuated that he feels like he’s falling in love all over again?

Right now it’s your disheveled hair, coming out of the braids you put them in before bed. His worn out shirt, too many sizes too big on you, clinging to your body from the static of the bedsheets. The fist rubbing your eyes, the lips parted to release a big yawn.

Oh, you precious little thing. Groaning as you flip in the bed, rolling into his body and clinging to him by the side like a koala. Your ear rests just above his heart, the gentle thud like a lullaby. Easing your eyes shut once more.

“Sweetheart.” His voice is raspy, dry and cracking from sleep. “It’s time to get up—“

“No.” You bury your face in his bare chest, the heavy scent of his body soap soothing your fussy soul. “Don’t want.”

“I know.” Softly, he takes off the hair ties keeping your braids in, letting the hair fall free before he combs it with his fingers. “But we gotta.”

Changbin tries to sit up, to move so you have no choice. Though exhausted, you find the effort to roll on top of him. Pinning him down.

“No.”

As if you’ve forgotten his strength. It’s okay, it’s early; it takes his brain a minute to wake up too. Arms firmly wrapped around you, he stands up with ease, despite your whines of protest.

“Yes.”

He loves the cute way you put, eyebrows furrowed as you give your best glare up at him. It doesn’t stop him from putting the fluffy, pink headband on your, pushing the stray hairs out of your face. He lathers the face wash in his hands before massaging it on your cheeks.

“Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.” He teases, laughing when you stick your tongue out at him and get soap on the tip of it. As grumpy as you are, you don’t move a muscle. Sitting perfectly on the bathroom counter as he washes your face before his own.

It’s like this every morning. You on the counter, him standing in front of you. Helping you get ready for the day as he readies himself. Are you fully capable of doing it on your own? Of course, and if you wanted to, Changbin would back off. But doing things for you is his favorite way to show his love.

Why does baby have to do anything when daddy is here?

Once your face and teeth are clean, you follow him into the closet. Sitting on the ground as he picks your gym clothes, packs an extra outfit to change into after you’re done.

“I don’t really want to go today.” You say with a sigh when he places the matching pink set in front of you. “Can we skip?”

“We had a rest day yesterday.” He takes the sweats he slept in off, tossing them aside before he starts to look for his own clothes. “It’s an easy day today. Just cardio.”

Oh, how dramatic you must be feeling today. Sighing before laying on the plush carpet floor, arm slung over your eyes.

“Just cardio? Daddy, cardio is the worst—“

Changbin’s hunt for a gym fit is abandoned, laughing as he kneels over you. In your show, the shirt you’re wearing has hiked up, cotton panties peeking from underneath it. Light blue with clouds decorating the fabric.

“Oh, baby.” His hands wrap around your wrists, moving your arms from your face. “It must be so hard to be you.”

Though you try to hold your pout, he can see the smile cracking. Nodding up at him.

“If you go, I’ll give you a treat.”

Suddenly, you look serious. “What kind of treat?”

Changbin just smiles at you before squeezing your wrists, bringing them above your head and holding them there.

Oh, how precious you are with wide eyes, unable to meet his gaze. Suddenly aware of how close his hips are to your own, how you’re stuck beneath his body. The fussy, pouty little girl he’s dealt with all morning now too shy to look at him. Squirming under his hold, not because you want out. But because that fuzzy, warm feeling has started to bloom.

You mumble something, and he’s pretty sure he knows what you said. But where’s the fun is giving in?

“Speak up, baby.” Changbin says, moving your wrists to one hand so he can turn your head back towards him. “Daddy can’t hear you.”

You swallow dryly, batting your lashes up at him. “W-want it now.”

“Already?” He teases with a chuckle, thumb stroking just beneath your lower lip. “But we were up late last night playing, baby. Isn’t that enough?”

It’s quick, the movement of your head. The soft whimpers that vibrate on his thumb. “No. No, I want more-“

Changbin loves how insatiable you can get. How one look or little word can turn you into a whimpering, needy girl. So obsessed with his cock that it’s all you can think about, slowly going mad the longer it takes to get it.

He loves how badly you need him, because he needs you just as much. If not more.

Your little gasps are so precious, dainty hands clutching at his broad shoulders as his cock works it’s way inside you. What he lacks in length, which isn’t much, he makes up for in width. The stretch always a little painful, burning and making your legs snap close.

“Shh, baby.” He whispers when your eyes start to water, face scrunching in pain.

“O-ouch—“

“I know, princess. Daddy’s got you.”

He makes sure to hold you close to his body, thumb stroking your hip bone as he bottoms out. Letting your head roll back, a broken, tearful moan coming from your lips. Leaning down, he kisses your exposed neck softly.

“You’re doing such a good job.” He mumbles against your skin. “So proud of my baby.”

When your walls flutter around him, the praise making your dizzy, Changbin begins to rock his hips. Rolling in a motion to get you more comfortable, pain morphing into pleasure as your cunt starts to adjust to him.

“More?” You whine out.

As long as you are his, you’ll want for nothing. Happily, Changbin starts to properly fuck you. Head buried in your neck, kissing and biting the skin. Carefully sucking beneath your ear to feel you twitch, to mark what’s his.

“Fuck.” He groans beneath your ear, his own eyes fluttering a bit. While he’ll tease you for slipping from him, so overwhelmed by his cock that you lose all thoughts, he feels it too. Drunk on your cunt, consumed by the perfect feeling that takes over his body when he’s deep inside you. You don’t notice how his groan has shifted into a low whimper. “It’s like this pussy was made for me.”

You let out the most delight cry when he hits the best spot, twitching intensely in his hold. Clinging to him as the grip on your sanity is lost.

“I-is yours.” Your words are slurred, almost incoherent. “All daddy’s—“

“Aw, baby. You’re so sweet.” He grunts as he thrusts harder, lingering deep inside as the tears break from your eyes. “Always perfect for daddy.”

He loves the way your eyes seem to brighten when you look at him, as if all of the love in the world is held within them. It makes him feel fuzzy, heart hammering and giggles scratching at his throat. Dizzy with how lovesick you’ve made him.

Your little hands cup his face, holding it still so you can look at him. Every inch of him, every bump, scar, ridge. The stroke of your thumbs on the apples of his cheeks is so soft, as if you’re holding fragile glass.

“Daddy perfect.” You whisper, lips trembling as they form an earnest smile. Beaming at him brighter than any star in the sky.

Changbin can’t pick what he loves the most about you, but he really thinks it’s how much you love him.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #changbin smut #seo changbin smut #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

thoughts on chan being a switch? it's rotting me i swear. i can so imagine him being tied up just itching to touch the reader, holding back the urge to completely tear them apart. pls omg he drives me crazy

switch Chan does not get the attention he deserves. because honestly, it’s a mind shattering thought.

SMUT - MINORS DNI

He never considered subbing. Being submissive just isn’t something that interested him; the control he has over every aspect of his life is something he holds so dearly. Just the thought of letting it go makes the man nervous, skin itchy, chest tight.

But you. You made him see the beauty in release, with a comfort that smells like lavender and cotton, tastes like oranges, feels like heaven.

You make it easy to relax.

Lifted on your knees, you straddled Chan, who is secured to your bed with the softest ropes he’s ever felt. Though he’s tugged once or twice, they’re firm. No slack, keeping him exactly where you want him.

Your body is hovering, center above center yet not touching even in the slightest. Fully dressed in contrast to him, cock heavy on his abs. Goosebumps crawling up his skin from the chill of the room, from the excitement bubbling in his belly.

Humming, you run the tip of a cane down his chest. Tracing the ridges of his body with it. It’s only been used once or twice, yet the tiny sparks of terror are felt in his spine. Remembering how it felt, the uniform marks it made — “How are you feeling, Channie?”

He takes a shaky breath before smiling, the cane now close to his leaning tip. “Good, ma’am.”

The title makes your lips quirk up, pretty eyes roaming up to his. “I’m glad.” Your tone reflect it. “What have you done while I was gone?”

“Followed your rules.”

He says it so simply that you look unconvinced. “Sounds like you’re saying that because I want to hear it.” A light swat to his inner thigh — not enough to hurt him, but it does make him twitch in the bindings. “Are you being honest?”

“Always, ma’am.”

You decide to take him at his word. After all, Channie can be such a good boy.

When he wants to be.

“I’m glad you came over.” You say earnestly, placing the cane to the side. “It’s been too long since I got to play with my favorite toy.”

Though you make him feel safe, content in a submissive role, the demeaning nickname sparks annoyance in the back of his head. That’s what he calls you when the roles are switched, twisted into positions that are simply for his pleasure. Chan doesn’t care for how you’ve used it against him.

“I wanted to see you.” He says, trying to ignore the feeling. “Touch you. Taste you—“

“Who said anything about that?” The laugh you give is humiliating, as if it was insane of him to even think about having you like that. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, little boy.”

It’s fun when Chan subs. When he lets you do whatever you want with him, regardless of the twisted things you come up with.

But, it’s even more fun when you challenge him. As his smile falls, yours grows, happy to see him getting so pent up. Knowing that he holds no control, it’s starting to make him itch.

“Why else would you invite me over?” He can’t help the bite in his voice.

Oh, your giggle. Usually the happiest, prettiest sound. One he could listen to for hours on end.

Today, it makes his hands curl into fists.

“To stare at you.” You’re climbing off of him. “Admire you. Sometimes it’s nice just to…look.”

He doesn’t like the way you said that. You pick up your phone, thumbs tapping quickly. Drowning out the man currently at your disposal. Within moments, there’s a knock on your apartment door.

“Oh, I’ll be right back.” You singsong, a little bounce in your step as you head out the room. Before he can even ask, you punch his cheeks between your thumb and index finger. “You’re going to love this, Channie.”

Kiss, and gone. The voices. Soft, whispering so they’re inaudible. Your giggle, the stranger responding in a deep, familiar voice.

No. No, no, no—

The set up of the room suddenly makes sense. The fluffy armchair, usually tucked in the corner. Right at the edge of the bed, positioned perfectly for Chan to see. The way you seem more focused on your phone than usual.

He’s thrashing in the bindings by the time Felix walks in with you, the younger man not even slightly surprised by his predicament.

“Oh, hyung. Excited?” The snide remark makes you laugh, guiding Felix over to the chair.

“He’s always eager—“

“Fucking untie me-“

“And so hard to satisfy.” You say with a sigh, plopping to a seat. “I’m sure you understand. It’s never enough for him.”

Felix hums sadly, giving his friend an almost disappointing look. “How do you ever get any pleasure?”

You smile, twirling your hair with your index finger. “He does have a pretty cock, but you think with how much he fucking talks, he would use his tongue a bit more.”

Chan is livid. It’s all a lie; how many hours has he spent between your legs? Have you spent seated on his face? Sure, he knows it’s all to rile him up. But the frustration comes from the fact that it’s working. He wants to touch you. Needs to touch you. To fucking remind you who exactly is in charge—

“Oh, poor thing.” Felix coos, softly tracing your jaw with the tips of his fingers as he kneels in front of you. “Do you want some help?”

Fuck, he’s so annoyed with the way you pout. Puppy dog eyes. “Please, Lixie?”

It’s agony, watching his younger friend push your skirt up. Seeing that you were wearing nothing the underneath the entire time, head rolling back as Felix eagerly traces your cunt with his tongue. That should be him. He should be touching you.

Yet he’s bound. Stagnant. Forced to watch as the ropes begin to give under his pulls.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #felix smut #lee felix smut #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

Minho barely checks his surroundings before slamming you against the metal bookshelf hard enough to knock the wind out of you. Your gasp is quickly muffled by his hand over your mouth.

“Now, now, angel.” He tuts lowly in your ear, easily unbuckling your belt with his free hand. “We don’t want anyone to hear you, do we?”

SMUT - MINORS DNI

Voices, footsteps from further down in the heart of the library carry in the silence, seeming a lot closer to the abandoned corner than you would like. It made things feel a little riskier, heart hammering against your chest as a cold hand slithers into your jeans. Anyone could venture back here, in search of a book that hasn’t been touched in years and instead stumble across a scene that surely would get both you and Minho in deep trouble.

It’s funny. How little that seems to matter once the tips of his fingers come in contact with your clit.

Your eyes flutter back, softly moaning against his palm as he gracefully teases the sensitive bud. Minho’s nose nudges your jaw, tilting your head to the side to allow access to your neck. While his teeth graze the expanse of your unmarked skin, his fingers journey down further, spreading your folds open.

“Oh, aren’t you a needy little thing?” His fingers are sticky with your slit, only getting wetter as he gets closer to your entrance. “Can’t even go a few hours without my attention?”

It’s rich of him to say considering this was all his doing — he compliment your ass in your jeans (“It’s like you’re begging me to fuck you.”), he couldn’t stop rubbing your thighs, he’s the one who shoved your laptop and textbook in your bag before pulling you to the emptiest corner in the library. This is all his fault, and yet you find yourself nodding, agreeing with him.

Minho needs to be needed. And you’re more than happy to oblige.

Fingers finding finding your hole, he teases the rim of it, applying just enough pressure to make you think he’s going to slide in. The feeling makes your back arch, swelling of your ass pressing against his firm erection. He chuckles before biting your neck, a yelp silenced by his hand.

“Greedy, greedy, greedy.”

He withdraws his hand, much to your dismay. You barely have time to protest or question the action before the sound of his own belt clinking hits your ears. Feet nudging yours apart a little further, you feel his hips wiggle before he’s grabbing onto your jeans again.

Quick and nimble, the thighs denim is pulled down just enough to expose your core to him (or anyone who happens to walk by). His hips pin you against the surface, tip of his cock sliding up and down your cunt.

“Luckily for you, I’m in a giving mood.”

Without sparing even a second, Minho plunges inside, filling you to the brim before you have a chance to even process the fact that he’s inside you. His thrusts are short and deep, hardly separating his body from yours in an attempt to stay quiet.

You’re convinced that you never knew pleasure until you met Minho. No one had ever touched you so gently, took the time to study your body and learn the language of your body alongside you. No one had dared to spend hours between your legs, mapping your cunt with his tongue and exploring all the different ways to bring you to orgasm.

You also needed to needed, but not just by anyone. Only by Minho, where all the wrongs felt blissfully right.

His cock fills you to the brink, at home nuzzled inside your warm walls. Careful movements bring him closer and closer to the spot that he discovered, body melting against his own as he closes in on it. You’re hardly aware that you’re drooling against his palm, full moans borderline pornographic as you clench around him.

A hand finds your ponytail, roughly pulling on it until your head meets his shoulder. Minho’s glasses are slipping down his nose, shiny beads of sweat rolling down his temples. Though his thrusts are borderline brutal, the look in his eyes is soft. Affectionate. A fuzzy feeling in your lower belly making your eyes roll back as you let it consume you. It’s almost impossible to believe that he’s making you feel this way, smitten and fucking insatiable. The hours you spent in class, staring at him, never did you think he would make you feel so…complete.

There’s a sharp tug on your hair, making your eyes bounce open. The shock on your face makes him chuckle, dropping the hand from your mouth to instead cover it with his own. It’s a gentle kiss at first, one that drowns out all your surroundings and makes your knees weak. Minho’s tongue teases your lips, begging for a taste of you.

It’s impossible to not need him.

Tongues dance, moans filling each other’s mouths. Your walls begin to twitch around his length, the bookshelf keeping you upright or else you’re sure you’d crumple to the ground.

“Milk my cock, baby.” He mumbles into your mouth, sharply giving your hair another tug just to hear you cry for him. “Show me how fucking good I make you feel.”

The kiss becomes sloppy as you reach the peak, books falling from the shelf as you grip on the shelf steady yourself. There are fireworks in your eyes, the ground crumbling beneath you as the mind numbing rush takes over. You barely register the sound the books make when they hit the floor, the feeling of Minho emptying inside of you.

Maybe you are greedy. As he pulls out, quick to pull your panties back up before his cum spills out of you, you can’t help but crave his touch again. Wanting to spend forever tied to his body, lost in the never ending, earth shattering pleasure only he can bring.

Minho spins you around in his arms, carefully petting your flyaways down. “Feel good?”

You hum, wrapping your arms around your lover’s waist. There’s a pout on your lips, one he knows all to well. Chuckling, he captures them, always quick to give into your demands. “Thank you.”

He pulls back, ready to say something when he catches a glimpse of the mark he left on your neck. Purple, swelling. Skin looking like it could break. He fixes your hair again, skillfully covering the hickey before giving you a warm smile.

“Make sure to cover that. I like to keep the details of my meetings with my favorite student…private.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #lee know smut #lee minho smut #minho smut #chvnnie thots

[chvnnie]

i just- you- I'm just gonna leave this here okay :)

do you enjoy making me suffer or

SMUT - MINORS DNI

chan thinks you lost focus about half an hour ago. in your defense, the dinner was awfully boring — you only really agreed to come to support chan, and to wear a pretty dress. you sat quietly for the most part, twirling your champagne glass and politely answering any questions directed at you. 

but the dullness of the evening wasn’t what pulled your focus, what made your eyes glaze over just a bit.

it was the hold chan had on his glass, veins bulging as he tightened and loosened his grip.

you tried to look away at first, to fix your eyes on something else. but regardless of where your focus landed, be it the bread basket or changbin’s tie, your efforts were futile. it’s like your eyes were made to stare at chan’s hands all day long.

your mind began to empty, filling with thoughts were less than appropriate for light dinner conversation. this table seems pretty sturdy. if chan were to shove all the plates off, he could easily rail you into next week atop of it, right?

chan finds it comical. from the way your lips are parted, to the way you tracked the movements of his hands, he finds your shamelessness almost endearing. that’s why he had to tease you, to grip is glass the way he was, or to bring his hand to his throat, wrapping it around the base and pretending to scratch it. the whimper you released wasn’t that loud, barely reaching his ears. but it did still reach — and it made him so much more smug.

only once the dessert orders are placed does chan decide to end the suffering. he leans in, lips hovering an inch away from your cheek. “bathroom. now.” and seals the command with a kiss.

trying not to appear too eager, you leave the table as quickly as possible, making a beeline in to the restroom. as if waiting for his cue, chan steps in the moment you make sure you’re alone in the nice bathroom.

he’s across the room before you can even blink, hand wrapped around your throat even faster. chan pins you against the wall, squeezing firmly on your throat while two fingers find your lips.

“open.” he says with a tap to your bottom lip. quickly obeying, you part your lips, letting chan shove his fingers to the back of your mouth. you close your lips around the digits, sucking and twisting your tongue over them. he snickers, squeezing harder just to hear you choke around his fingers. “do you like my fingers, baby girl?”

you nod, your own hands coming up to wrap around the wrist that held your throat.

“yeah? where do you like them best? around your throat?”

he squeezes harder, grunting at the feeling of your nails digging into his wrist.

“your mouth?”

chan shoves his fingers deeper, the tears pricking your waterline finally breaking from the feeling.

“or-“

pulling his fingers out of your mouth, chan drops the hand between your bodies, hiking up your dress just enough to slip inside your panties. the spit on this fingers mixed with your slick makes it easy to glide into you, fingers filling you to the brim.

“here?”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #chvnnie thots #chvnnie asks

[chvnnie]

Stop bc the sub channie one had me on my knees 😩😩😩 If you could continue that one that would be great! 😂

usually I just leave thots as they are — but tbh I’ve been staring at my work computer since i posted, lost in this thought sooooo

SMUT - MINORS DNI

You’re too distracted to notice the steady creak of your bed. Felix’s tongue works vigorously, careful yet quick, he makes sure every inch of inch of your cunt is tended to. It makes it hard for you to focus, eyes fluttering as your hips grind. Moaning for him, soft pleas for more. Perfect, just for you—

—and Chan, who is damn near out of the bindings. They’re loosening slowly. He’s so close to getting enough wiggle room; tongue poking out, his focus is up. A little to the left. More to the right. Twist, twist, twist.

Right there, right on the precipice of freedom.

“Chan.” You snap, and he quickly looks at you. His heart is hammering against his rib cage. Fuck, how much did you see? Of course you catch on right as he was about to try and pull his hand out- “Eyes on me, baby. I don’t want to have to beat you in front of Felix.”

All your statement does is make him more ambitious. Hiding his scowl to the best of his ability, he nods. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Do you even hear him? Once you’ve scolded him, you’re back to losing yourself. Letting one hand curl into Felix’s golden locks while the other teases your nipple over your shirt. A captor of indulgence once again.

He needs to be quick. The more time spent trying to be careful, not wanting to attract attention, just puts him more at risk. So, Chan tugs harder. The frame hits the wall. Another rough pull. He feels it give more.

By the third time, you’re looking right at him again. And his left hand is free.

The grip on Felix’s hair helps you pull his out of your center, the younger man grunting angrily as heaven was ripped from him. “Stop.” You say firmly, catching Chan just as he sits up on his knees. “Sit.”

It’s like your speaking to a pet. Like you’re his owner. Laughable, really — and he does just that. “Absolutely not. Do you really expect me to watch this?”

“I expect you to follow my rules.” With your foot on Felix’s shoulder, you move him out of the way so you can stand. Grab the forgotten cane. “I’ll give you another chance. Sit.”

Channie’s a good boy.

When he wants to be.

“Try me, baby.” He says smugly, delighted in the way your dominance is crumbling. And it was this easy? Why hasn’t he tried this sooner? “I’ve never used a cane before. Should I try it on you, or Lix first?”

The threat should have scared the blonde man; ever the sweetheart, the people pleaser. To be given such a cruel punishment should make him like clay in Chan’s hands.

However, he seems unaffected. An almost bored expression on his face. The opposite of how his friend expected — and wanted — him to react.

“I don’t think you will.”

It takes him by surprise, confidence faltering slightly. Never has his friend challenged him, in any aspect, but especially not like this. Before you, was Felix. Always glad to help his friend work of his frustration, to have something he was sure to have control over.

Where did that bright eyed boy go?

“She told you to sit.” Felix says simply. “Don’t be dumb, hyung.”

His tone is so cool. So matter-of-fact. Emotionless.

That’s what makes Chan pause and consider his action. Felix’s coldness, and how much he enjoys it.

Chan isn’t allowed the silk ropes. Instead you use a flimsy pair of handcuffs found in the bottom of your toy box, tightening them until he complains of pain. Laying on his stomach, his knees are placed perfectly in line with his hips, which are raised. Neither you or Felix bothered to secure his ankles — one kick and they could easily overpower the stronger man.

Was his fleeting taste of control worth it?

Your back is against the headboard, legs open. Damp core just inches from Chan’s face. If he wiggles, could he reach it? Maybe if he positions his head at the right angle, his tongue might graze it.

So close. And just out of reach.

The lube is cold. Hissing, the older man clinches, fingers flexing behind his back.

“Oh, is that cold?” Felix is condescending, using the pads of two fingers to massage the lube against his hole. “I’m sorry.”

Tears start to sparkle in his eyes, frustration and pure, feral desire ripping him to shreds from the inside out. He doesn’t want Felix to touch him — all he wants is his cock. He wants to bend you over and rail you until all you can remember is his name — he wants you to beat him until he can’t walk.

The contradiction makes him dizzy, whines falling from his plush lips as he rests on his cheek. Defeated.

There’s a soft coo from you, then warm fingers are raking his curls. Nails scratching his scalp lightly, just like he likes it. How he always asks you to touch him when he needs to relax; when the control is too overwhelming.

A token. A reminder of your care for him. Even in moments like this.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, Channie?” As you speak, Felix is lining his cock with his entrance, teasing it with the tip. “To be touched?”

He rolls his head, looking up at you. It’s impossible not to cry at this point. “I-I wanted to touch you.”

Your fingers crawl from his locks, gently wiping his tears away. “Oh, baby.”

Then, he notices it. The bullet vibrator in your other hand, thumb hovering over the on button. As if timed, you click it, right as Felix roughly pushes inside Chan.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty.”

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