#felix dark hours | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minisugakoobies · 2 months

Text

Yours for the Night | HHJ

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plot, frenemies to lovers, Model!AU Rating: M (18+) Warnings: so. much. cockiness from Hyunjin, arguing as a form of foreplay, a bit of dumbification, what's a little fucking between frenemies?, dick pics, exhibitionism, nipple play, mentions of slut shaming, grinding, fingerfucking, pinching, just a tiny bit of spit, unexpected use of pet names, oral sex (f receiving), wet and messy, biting, dirty talk, maybe a little degradation (talking about reader being cock stupid), unprotected sex (bc used), riding/cowgirl style, praise/use of "good girl," soft dom!hyunjin vibes, rough/hard sex, multiple positions, creampie, multiple orgasms Word Count: 8.8k Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own SKZ - they just inspire me Summary: “Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” Or, Hyunjin makes you an offer you simply can't refuse.

A/N: I finished this earlier than expected, thanks to the inspiration that is Hyunjin at Milan Fashion Week. Have you seen him?? 🥵 Anyway, it's all because of his stunning beauty that this filthy lil pwp exists. Enjoy! 😘

Unbeta'd as usual. I would *love* to hear your thoughts - my inbox is always open (anon is on, but hateful comments will be blocked. Be kind, writers do this for free and with love!) 💕

SKZ Masterlist

It’s Friday night, you’re out for drinks with your friends, and you are frustrated.

It’s not the club that’s bothering you. You’re here tonight at Felix’s request. He’d told you all it had been too long since you’d gone out as a group, so all nine of you and your friends crammed yourselves into a couple of rides and headed for downtown.

Nor is it the incredibly tight, short, and backless dress you’ve poured yourself into that’s annoying you, though it’s certainly not helping. Your fingers anxiously grasp at the hem, tugging it down your thighs as you take a seat at the table where Felix and Seungmin are currently talking.

No, it’s something personal that has you wound tighter than a corset tonight. Work has been kicking your ass lately, and it’s put a huge damper on your sex life. You haven’t been out with anyone new in the last few months. Haven’t had any time to reach out to any of your small group of casual hookups who would typically lend a hand. Most nights you’ve even been too tired to masturbate.

Put simply, you’re ready to fucking pop.

Which is why you’re wearing this bodybinding dress and staring at the dance floor like a wildcat stalking its prey, searching to find someone to help you with your problem. Unfortunately, you’ve been here for hours, and no one’s caught your eye so far.

Your clutch rattles on the table, drawing your attention. Everyone who would usually text you is here, so out of curiosity, you take out your phone. The notification tells you that Hyunjin sent you a photo.

You glance across the room at where Hyunjin is sitting in a booth with Changbin, deep in conversation. Why would he send you a photo right now?

Your confusion only grows when you look at the photo. It’s a selfie, Hyunjin raising his champagne glass in a toast to the camera, perfectly tousled dark hair spilling over his brow as he fixes you with his signature smirk. It’s a gorgeous shot, of course, because he’s a gorgeous man, but again, why is he sending you selfies in the middle of tonight’s celebration? Or at all? Hyunjin’s never been the type to send you photos before, of himself or the group or anything.

He’s never really been the type to text you, period, outside of the group chat. Probably because the two of you aren’t really friends. Frenemies would be more accurate. You share the same group of friends, but have nothing else in common. Which is fine, you don’t have to be close to hang out, but he’s… well… he’s an acquired taste, and you’ve never developed an appreciation. Hyunjin’s snooty and cocky - overly so, in your opinion, even if he is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Most of your conversations consist of nothing but arguing. He’s very stubborn and loves to get the last word in on everything. Which drives you crazy because you prefer to have the final say.

So to say this sudden selfie has you perplexed is an understatement.

Ignoring whatever Felix and Seungmin are talking about, you fire off a question.

You: What is this? Hyunjin: Are you that drunk? It’s me

Reflexively, you scowl at your screen.

You: I know it’s you You: But WHY are you sending me a photo of yourself? Hyunjin: You’ve been staring at me all night Hyunjin: I thought maybe you’d like something to take home, to keep

Again, you look over, only to find him looking at you, lips curled to match his photo. Heat flames through you. Could he be more conceited?

Maybe the vanity isn’t totally unearned, considering that he’s an actual model, making a living using his ethereal beauty to sell products. His own lifestyle is just as luxurious as the images he appears in. Like right now, he’s wearing the finest black suit, obviously couture, with a few silver necklaces draped over his tie that you’ve no doubt cost more than your entire outfit alone.

And sure, he has a jawline carved by the gods, thick eyebrows that frame expressive, cat-like eyes, and ridiculously pouty lips that you’ve found yourself staring at once… an hour on average. Maybe in your weakest moments you’ve even dreamt about what it would be like to kiss those lips.

But does that mean he has to be a dick all the time?

You: You’re such an ass Hyunjin: Deny it all you want, but we both know you can’t keep your eyes off me Hyunjin: Not that I blame you You: It’s amazing your head still fits through doors Hyunjin: You’d be the first to notice if it didn’t

Your nostrils flare. No matter what you say, he always flips it back on you. Admittedly, you are a little tipsy, so you’re not fully on your game, but it’s still annoying as fuck. And right now, you really don’t need another reason to be frustrated.

You: Whatever, Hyunjinnie

You cast another glance at Hyunjin, delighting in the way he frowns at your response. He hates it when you call him that.

You take a moment to locate the rest of your friends. Changbin’s still sitting with Hyunjin. Jeongin and Chan are doing shots at the bar. Minho and Jisung are in their own little world on the dance floor, arms draped around one another. Neither Felix nor Seungmin seemed to have noticed that you have dropped out of their discussion. Part of you feels guilty for ignoring them, but, well, you’re a little fired up now, and the only thing that would make you feel better would be getting the last word in with Hyunjin for once.

You take a sip of your cocktail, floating the cold liquid on your tongue as you devise your next line of attack, when your phone buzzes again.

Hyunjin: I have another photo for you You: Why? Hyunjin: Because I think you’d like it You: Oh really? Like you know what I like Hyunjin: Always so argumentative Hyunjin: You’re pretty easy to figure out Hyunjin: The staring makes it incredibly obvious

Such an ass.

You: Fuck off Hyunjin: I will not You: What’s your game, man? Hyunjin: No game Hyunjin: Can’t I just do something nice for you?

The man is a riddle. An enigma draped in Versace.

You type out “I guess there’s a first time for everything” and press send, putting your phone down long enough to watch him get the text. Hyunjin laughs to himself, smiling down at his screen, and there’s this weird feeling of satisfaction in your stomach at the sight. Whatever, you like making people laugh, even assholes like him. So what.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to wait at his beck and call, jumping to read his texts as they come in, if in fact he keeps sending them, but then your phone vibrates again and you snap it up immediately, because you’re a liar.

Hyunjin: Just trust me Hyunjin: You want this Hyunjin: But I want something first You: Oh here we go You: There’s the catch A hand waves over your phone. “Hi, hello, are we boring you?”

Quickly, you turn it over before Seungmin can see your text thread. “No, sorry, I was just, uh - “

“Hey, leave her be,” your savior Felix says, pushing Seungmin lightly. “She’s had a rough couple of weeks. She shouldn’t have to suffer through your boring work stories, too.”

“Hey!”

Seungmin and Felix dissolve into arguing as you covertly flip your phone back over.

Hyunjin: I’m not asking much Hyunjin: Just a photo of you. A photo for a photo

He can’t be serious.

You: I’m not sending you a nude Hyunjin: Did I say nude? No, I did not Hyunjin: A normal selfie, that’s all

Again your suspicion rises. What is he playing at? Where is this going?

You: But WHY? Hyunjin: Maybe I can’t stop staring, either

Your breath catches in your throat. When you look up, he’s gazing at you again, but his expression is less smug than usual and more… ravenous.

You turn away so fast, your neck cracks.

Hyunjin: So? Send me a pic.

There’s no reason for you to agree to this. Absolutely no reason at all. Beyond, of course, your burning curiosity.

It’s really going to get you in trouble one day.

Grabbing your clutch, you slip off your chair. “Ladies room,” you announce, glancing at Felix and Seungmin, who aren’t listening anyway, still squabbling. You wander just far enough out of sight of your friends, find a spot with good lighting back near the bar (because even if it’s just for Hyunjin, your vanity will not let you take an unflattering photo), and snap a quick picture, firing it off right away.

As you’re sliding back into your seat, your phone vibrates. Hyunjin sent another photo.

You swallow reflexively. Holy shit. It’s a shot of his crotch, dress pants straining to contain what is clearly a massive cock, gripped through the fabric by long fingers.

Hwang Hyunjin sent you a dick pic.

So it’s not big dick energy, it’s just big dick, is the first coherent thought you have once the screeching inside your head stops. It occurs to you that you’ve been gawking unblinkingly at your phone for at least several minutes, so you raise your head to make sure your friends aren’t watching you, and thankfully they’re not. Really, you should know better than to underestimate just how much Felix and Seungmin love to bicker.

But what are you supposed to say to Hyunjin now? Your thumbs hover, waiting for inspiration, but you’re stuck.

Hyunjin: Wow, are you speechless? Hyunjin: Guess there really is a first time for everything

Even without looking, you know he’s smirking at you from across the room. Suddenly, you need another drink, so you mumble “bar” in Felix’s direction and stumble away. As the bartender mixes you another cocktail, you grip your phone tightly, waging an inner war with yourself.

You should look at the photo again. You shouldn’t look at the photo again. You should delete it, and Hyunjin’s number, and maybe throw the phone in the nearest trash bin too, just for extra comfort. But holy fuck, do you want to look at the photo again!

What you really don’t want is to think about the effect that photo has had on your pussy, because it’s humiliating how much she’s throbbing right now.

“I’ll take one of those as well, thanks.” A hand waves towards the bartender, and your treacherous brain immediately recognizes those fingers as the fingers from Hyunjin’s photo, and starts picturing what those lithe digits would look like wrapped around your throat. Great. Now your brain has joined your pussy. Traitors.

You say nothing as Hyunjin takes the seat next to you. Partly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s gotten under your skin again, albeit in a very different way, but also partly because you’re still not sure what to say.

“You know,” Hyunjin bends towards you, close enough for his warm breath to tickle your ear, “if I’d known that all it would take to get you to stop arguing with me was showing you my cock, I would’ve introduced you much sooner.”

“God, you are just - just the worst,” you snarl, teeth clenched hard enough to give you a headache.

“Now really, is that any way to speak to someone who just gave you a gift?” Hyunjin sips his drink calmly.

Well, there’s the Hyunjin you recognize. What you don’t understand is how he’s still making your cunt drip with need. All you can think about right now is what he’s hiding under those suit pants. Are you really this dumbstruck by cock?

(Yes. Yes, you are.)

“Me and every other woman in this club, I bet. You probably air dropped it to the whole room.” You wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe that was his plan the whole time - work you up then leave you begging while he hooked up with someone else. As if you’d beg.

“Oh no, that was just for you.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

With a roll of his eyes, Hyunjin clicks his tongue. “Come on. You know how selective I am when it comes to my clothes or my liquor. Why would I be any less selective about who I fuck?”

“Who you fuck?” Whoa, who said anything about fucking? Besides your duplicitous brain and pussy. “Who - who said - that’s not - I mean -” You’ve suddenly become the Big Bad Wolf, huffing and puffing, unable to form a complete sentence.

Hyunjin rises, leaning over you as you gaze up at him from your barstool. He places his hands on the bar, one arm on either side of you, bracketing you in, wild eyes trailing down your figure slowly before he smiles, hungry and sharp, and you realize, no, here’s the wolf.

“Listen, there’s no reason we can’t fuck. Friends fuck all the time.” His hand glides over your shoulder, light as a feather, and you watch dazedly as goosebumps ripple along your skin. His touch is electric.

“Is that what we are? Friends?”

Hyunjin shrugs, lips twisted in a droll smile. “Close enough. This doesn’t have to be complicated. You said it yourself - you’re in need.”

“What? When did - I never said that!” Again you struggle to speak coherently, sputtering in your confusion.

Hyunjin frowns. “Ah, you’re right, I misspoke. That was Felix who said that, wasn’t it? On the ride here?”

You curse inwardly, remembering the private discussion you and Felix had had on the way to the club, when you were discussing your dry spell. Or at least, it was supposed to be private, but obviously someone had been listening in. Felix had offered to play wingman for you, saying he wouldn’t let anything keep him from helping you “in your time of need” - a bit dramatic, but that was Felix for you.

You’d waved him off, insisting that you could snag someone without any help. But here you are, drowning your sorrows at the bar with no possibilities in sight. Maybe you should’ve accepted Felix’s help after all.

“That’s not…” Sighing, you shrug. There was no point in trying to deny what he’d heard. “Fine, yeah, I came here tonight hoping to leave with someone, but I didn’t mean you!”

“That’s because you didn’t know I was an option.” Again his gaze travels down your body, lingering like a slow caress. “But after seeing the way you look tonight, I had to offer myself up.”

Always. So. Cocky. You want to deny that his words have an effect on you. Want to. But can’t.

And like that, your resolve starts to slip.

“You really want to help me out?” you ask. He nods, irises blown as his eyes flicker to yours, and it puts fire in your belly, has you biting your lip in contemplation. “What makes you think you have what I need?”

Hyunjin doesn’t bother to check if any of your friends are watching as he steps closer, like he doesn’t care if anyone sees the way he cups your cheek. Or how he slides his thumb over your lips, dragging the bottom one down before lowering his mouth towards yours. He hangs there, just for a second - just long enough for you to tip your face up in a wordless answer.

His touch has nothing on his kiss. Your whole body thrums from head to toe, fizzing like the champagne on your tongue earlier, sweet and effervescent. His hand falls to your hip, squeezes there suddenly, and you feel a rush of heat between your thighs.

Hyunjin’s plush lips part, letting the tip of his tongue briefly nudge against yours before he pulls away, leaving you blinking dumbly. He lets out a low chuckle, gently wiping a drop of spit from your chin.

“I just know.”

You’re too busy licking the inside of your lips, hunting for any lingering trace of him, to respond.

“Let me lay it out for you, so there’s no misunderstanding. If you can stop pretending for five seconds that you don’t want me the way I want you, you can have me tonight.” His eyes dip to your mouth and back, and you find yourself holding your breath, waiting for him to make a move again. Needing him to. “Just think about it.”

And then he walks away, leaving you nearly toppling off your seat, floundering in his wake.

The ice cubes in your cocktail have all but melted by the time you remember you ordered another drink. Sipping it slowly, you replay the last several minutes in your head. Did all of that just happen? Did Hyunjin really just offer himself to you? And then kiss you like that?

You feel like you’re going out of your mind.

“Just think about it.”

Hyunjin’s last words echo in your head as you wander on wobbly legs back towards the table where Felix and Seungmin are still standing.

And oh, god, do you think about it.

For the rest of the night, no matter how many conversations you have with your other friends, no matter how hard you dance, no matter what you do - the sole thought occupying your brain is what it would be like to fuck Hyunjin. Again and again, you picture him above you, beneath you, behind you, big cock stretching you out, making you scream his name.

But it’s not worth it to give in to him. It can’t be. Good dick - if it’s good - can’t be enough to undo all the annoying shit he does, can it?

You cut yourself off early in the night, explaining that someone needs to stay sober enough to call for rides, but really you’re afraid that if you get completely blitzed, you’ll end up admitting something you don’t want to admit and going home with Hyunjin. Your friends honor your noble sacrifice by achieving impressive levels of drunk, ranging from delightful (Felix repeatedly booping you on the nose, calling you his “widdle buddy”) to disastrous (Chan, who gets upset when the guy he hits on in the bathroom doesn’t respond - turns out he was hitting on his own reflection - before falling asleep in a stall).

Since the club is in the middle of downtown, you arrange for two cars to pick you and your friends up - one heading east, one heading west. Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin, and you pile into the ride heading west. Changbin hops into the passenger’s seat before you can slip in, leaving you smushed in the back between Hyunjin and Chan’s gigantic thighs.

Said thighs are splayed a bit as Chan’s head lolls back, a loud snore erupting out of him as the car makes its first stop outside Changbin’s apartment.

“Can’t take him anywhere,” Changbin grunts, snapping a rather unflattering photo of Chan sleeping with his mouth wide open, obviously saving it to drop in the group chat at the most opportune time. “Can you two make sure he gets home okay? I know it’s a bit out of the way, but, well, look at him.”

Chan continues to rumble like a fighter jet, unaware of everything going on around him.

“Yeah, don’t worry, we got him,” Hyunjin replies, and you just nod. “Night, ‘Bin.”

Changbin gives the driver Chan’s address and then he ducks out of the cab. Your place is technically the next closest, but getting Chan back to his place safe and sound is the priority.

With Chan sleeping next to you, it’s basically just you and Hyunjin alone now. A fact that has also occurred to Hyunjin, whose hand has been drifting further and further around your waist the entire ride. Now it slides around openly, tucking you against his side. You could fight it if you so desired - he’s not holding you tightly. He’s giving you the chance to escape.

You’re not sure you want to.

“Have you thought about it?” he murmurs, nose against your ear.

Your body reacts to the tone of his voice, thighs rubbing together, as you nod.

“And what did you decide?”

“I - I don’t know.”

A puff of air tickles your skin as he laughs derisively. “Do you really need some convincing?”

Chan snuffles loudly, reminding you that there’s another person right next to you, since your entire focus is on Hyunjin, and the way his hand is now creeping beneath the open back of your dress, and slowly moving up your rib cage.

When he cups your left breast, you stifle a gasp. But you can’t stop the tiny “ah!” that escapes when he gently pinches your nipple. You attempt to cover it with a cough, hoping the driver’s lack of visible response means he didn’t hear you. Meanwhile, next to you, Chan doesn’t stir.

“Feel good?” Hyunjin coos quietly. “Must’ve felt good, given the way you’re squirming right now.”

Your hips have started to rock of their own volition. Brain, hips, pussy, all on your shit list.

“But just think how much better it’ll feel when it’s my mouth.” His tongue flicks the shell of your ear before he sucks your earlobe into his warm mouth. A preview of what’s to come. It makes you squirm even harder, dying for any sort of relief for the aching between your legs.

Remarkably, you manage to speak, hissing, “You’re a demon.”

Hyunjin laughs. “You’ve no idea.”

His hand stays where it is until the car pulls up at the curb outside Chan’s house. It takes a minute for the two of you to wake Chan, then another minute for him to realize where he is, then yet another minute for him to slide out of the car. Hyunjin sighs and also climbs out of the cab to make sure Chan gets into his house safely.

When Hyunjin returns, the driver glances in the rearview mirror. “So, one more stop, or two?”

You blink at the question. The air in the cab feels heavy with implication. Hyunjin says nothing, but looks at you expectantly, and you understand - the choice is yours.

You glance at your hands, as if they’ll help you choose. Your watch informs you that it’s 2:12 in the morning. Don’t they always say not to trust any decisions you make after two am?

When the driver clears his throat a little too loudly, Hyunjin’s fingers grip your chin.

“Well? You heard him - one stop or two?”

You meet his gaze, surprised to find a fire burning in his eyes.

Maybe you’d be a fool to run towards it, seeking warmth where there might only be danger.

Fine, then. You’re a fool.

“One.”

With a satisfied grin, Hyunjin gives the driver his address.

You’re a little tense during the elevator ride up to Hyunjin’s apartment. Hyunjin, on the other hand, looks completely relaxed, quietly leaning against the wall with his normal blasé expression on his face. Like you’re not about to cross a boundary here that you never expected to cross. Like this was inevitable.

As soon as you’re both inside and his door is locked, he turns to face you, and you suck in a deep breath, waiting impatiently for him to touch you again.

Instead, he asks, “Do you want some water?”

“Um, yeah, sure.”

He must read confusion on your face - at least, you hope it looks like confusion and not disappointment - because the corner of his mouth lifts in a small smile.

“A few questions first,” he says, walking into his kitchen, sliding his suit jacket off as he goes. “Are you in good health?”

“Am I - am I in good health?”

Hyunjin tuts. “I’d ask if you need me to repeat myself but clearly you heard the question.”

You stare at his back, brows furrowing as you decipher his meaning. “Are you asking if I’ve been tested recently? Yes, I have been. Nothing to report.”

“Good, me too,” he replies, yanking his tie off and tossing it onto the counter before opening the fridge and grabbing you both a bottle of water. He eyes you as he opens his. “Are you on birth control?”

“Is this what you’re like on a date? Does your foreplay always involve interrogating your partner with clinical questions?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He tilts his head back as he drinks, so he doesn’t catch the glare you shoot his way. “Answer the question.”

“Yes, dick, I’m on birth control.” You take a swig of your water. The memory of his touch in the taxi is fading more and more with every second that passes. With a clearer head, you’re starting to question if you’ve made the right choice.

“Good,” he repeats, wiping his mouth. “I prefer to fuck raw.”

You clench around nothing at the thought, but scowl anyway. “What about what I prefer?”

Hyunjin just hums, fingers brushing your cheek before they tap under your chin. “Do you want me to use a condom?” There’s no drollness or sarcasm to his tone. He’s genuinely asking.

“No.” Your pride takes a tiny hit at the way you answer him immediately, without hesitation.

Just as quickly as his gentle tone came, it disappears again, vanishing as Hyunjin flashes a smug smile. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what - oh fuck off.” There he is again, that cocky asshole. Reflexively, you curse at him, ready to fight. “Fuck you, you don’t know anything about me.”

“How many times do I need to tell you that I do? You’re so easy to read.”

“Really?” Okay then. You’ll call his bluff. “Go ahead, Hyunjinnie. Tell me what I like.”

He rolls his eyes. His fingers make quick work of his cufflinks, setting them on the granite top beside him, and he slides his sleeves up, revealing toned forearms beneath.

“Well, for starters, you love getting under my skin with that infantile nickname.”

“No shit. Everyone knows that.”

“You live for arguing, especially with me. Can’t let a single sentence go by without snapping back.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re always wrong.”

Hyunjin doesn’t take the bait, merely leans back against the counter, examining you so openly that you feel exposed, so you cross your arms, as if that will help you block his penetrating gaze. He takes a few seconds before speaking again.

“No, it’s not that. Though I’m sure that’s what you tell yourself. If it were, you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He speaks so calmly, so self-assuredly. It’s maddening, even though you’re burning with curiosity. Makes you want to know more, so you press him again. “Okay, then - what is it? Why am I here?”

“Because you wanted someone to take control.” He spreads his arms wide. “And here I am.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know. You want someone else to be in charge. Make the decisions. Do the work for you. Then fuck you so hard that all those thoughts just fly right out of that pretty little head of yours.” He says it all so matter-of-factly, like it’s completely evident, your deepest desires laid bare for all to witness.

You want to dismiss his words, act like he’s so far off the mark that he’s on another planet, but you’re too surprised by his answer to respond with anything other than stunned silence. His arrogant smile returns. Clearly he was expecting you to fight, so your lack of a snappy comeback only confirms to him that he’s right.

“Just look at what you’re wearing,” he continues. “That tight dress screams ‘please fuck me stupid!’ Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

You find your voice. “Oh, now you’re judging my clothing? And - and slut shaming me?”

“Please. I’m always judging your clothing. But it’s a taste thing, not some sort of moral judgment.” He smirks. “And I’m very supportive of sluts, thank you.”

As he sips his water, you replay the entire evening in your mind. Sending you the photos. Kissing you. Making the offer. Fuck. He really did do the work for you tonight. Was there ever a chance you were going to say no? Judging by Hyunjin’s attitude, this moment was never in doubt. He knew you’d end up here with him.

The other realization that dawns on you is - you’re not mad about any of that. The only thing you’re mad about is that, once again, he’s right about something. And he knows it.

Okay. Fine. You want to be fucked stupid. But does he have to be so fucking rude about it??

“Maybe this was a bad idea.”

He suddenly steps towards you. His expression is so intense that you move without thinking, backing all the way into the fridge. Your heart feels like it might burst through your ribcage at the slightest provocation, breath leaving your lungs in tiny exhalations as his thumb ghosts your cheek.

Not because you’re scared. Because you’re excited.

“Tell me you don’t want to kiss me.”

Hyunjin says the words softly, but there’s a firmness to his gaze that makes you swallow hard.

Your lips don’t move.

He kisses you. Wraps his hands around your waist, pulls you to his demanding mouth, head turning this way and that as his lips crash onto yours.

You kiss him back. Just as greedily, just as deeply.

His hand strokes your thigh. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you.”

You make no noise.

His fingers crawl beneath your skirt, dancing over the silk of your underwear. Your gasp warms his tongue. A throaty growl chokes him.

“So wet for me.” He brings his hand up to show you the evidence, skin glistening. As if you didn’t already know.

He surges forward, pinning you to the fridge, mouth blazing a trail from your ear to your neck as his fingers press into your soaking slit.

“Ah, Hyunjin!” you whimper, clutching wildly at his bicep. The swell of his arm bulges as his fingers slowly search your inner walls, like they’re mapping every inch of you. When they trace over your g-spot, they linger, brushing again and again. “Oh my god!”

“Tell me,” he implores, husky voice breaking, like he’s barely in control, “tell me to stop and I will. Tell me you don’t want this - don’t want me - and I’ll call you a ride and we’ll never talk about this again.”

His forehead bumps yours, eyes smoldering with bright intensity, hand still plunging.

This time, you speak, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Don’t - don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

A smile spreads across Hyunjin’s face. He pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, the other hand still working between your thighs. You moan, feeling his erection digging into your hip as he presses himself against you, holding you firmly in place while he adds a third finger to the two already fucking you open.

“Say it,” he commands, mouth wet and hot on your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want, oh, fuck, I, I want you to fuck me, Hyunjin.”

In an instant, he’s disentangled himself from you, and you can’t help but whine very loudly at the sudden loss of his fingers. Hyunjin just smirks at your naked desperation, spinning you around so you’re in front of him.

“Come on,” he says, lightly pinching your ass to make you move. You yelp, smacking him on the arm, but he just laughs. “I’m not fucking you in here. Let’s go.”

“Asshole,” you curse, but you go anyway, because all you want is for him to touch you again, and if he’s refusing to do it in here, then why would you want to stay? You’re going wherever his hands go.

Maybe you should feel ashamed, for giving in so easily. But you don’t. All you feel is desire. This is what you want. What you need.

Hyunjin’s fingers press lightly on the small of your back as he guides you down the hallway to his bedroom. It’s just as ostentatious as the rest of his place - expensive-looking light fixtures hanging from the ceiling, dark leather headboard and frame for his gigantic bed, which is covered in piles of plush-looking blankets and pillows. There’s a gorgeous painting taking up most of the wall above his bed.

He doesn’t give you much time to admire the room, because as soon as you’re in front of the bed, he spins you again, hands reaching for the zipper of your dress, sliding it to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but your panties. Before you can tell him to stop pushing you around, he’s kissing you fervently, like he’s been dying the entire time his mouth has been away from yours these last few minutes, and suddenly you forget that you’re irritated.

Hyunjin backs you onto the bed, breaking away from your lips long enough to urge you to move towards the headboard, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it to the side as he follows. When his fingers grab for his belt, they find yours already there, making short work of the buckle. He groans in delight, deciding to use his hands to grope your bare breasts while you unzip his pants.

“Can’t wait to see it in real life, huh?” he asks, dragging his thumbs over your nipples. He chuckles when you just whimper, back arching slightly to encourage him to keep touching you.

The truth is, yes, you can’t wait to see Hyunjin’s massive dick, but more importantly, you can’t wait to feel it inside you, so you continue with your task, pushing his pants and boxers down together. And god, what a cock it is, long and thick and positively darkened with need. Smeared drops of excitement coat the head, and the sight makes your mouth water.

He rises up to kneel between your legs, grabbing his cock with one hand and giving it a few lazy pumps. “Well? Don’t tell me you’re speechless again.”

“Goddamn it,” you huff in exasperation, “you’re the fucking worst.” But you can’t stop staring as he gently squeezes the head, making a pleased noise, relieving himself a little while he watches you writhe in impatience.

“You’ll be singing a different tune in a moment, sweetheart.”

Your nose wrinkles at how easily ‘sweetheart’ drips off his tongue. “Just put it in me already,” you demand, leaning back on your elbows, licking your lips as you peer up at him, trying to send a blatant “fuck me!” signal with every inch of your body.

Hyunjin tuts, lifting one of his gorgeously thick eyebrows. “Right to it? Is that what you really want?” In one swift motion, he hooks a finger under your panties and drags them down and off. It’d be a more impressive move if anyone but him were doing it.

“I just… I thought we were gonna fuck?” Isn’t that what you’re here for?

“Of course we are. But is that how you typically do it? No foreplay, no build up?” His fingers rake down your stomach, trail over your thighs, causing your body to twitch with shivers. “That doesn’t sound like any fun at all.”

It’s not how you’d prefer to do this, no. You’re just surprised that he agrees. So you say nothing in reply, visibly closing your mouth while he maneuvers you into position, pushing your legs up so your knees bend, your thighs meeting your stomach, completely exposing your cunt to him.

“That’s better. Just let me play with you a little first, sweetheart. I promise you’ll like it.”

Your instinct is to argue with him, tell him he has no idea what you’d like, but you’ve already done that tonight. And you were wrong. So again, you bite your tongue.

Until he extends his own, letting a string of spit fall onto your pussy.

“Ew, Hyunjin!” You’re disgusted, but not with him. Why do you find that so hot?

“Too much?” he inquires, letting go of your legs as he glances at you. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen a real expression of concern on his face before. It rattles you slightly.

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No - keep going.”

He nods, hands reaching for your thighs again. “If I hit any hard no’s for you, say something, and I promise I’ll stop, okay?”

“I will.”

He bows over you again, licking a straight line up your slit. With a moan, you let your head drop back against the pillows. His mouth feels absolutely divine.

Where others in the past just dove in, Hyunjin takes his time. He drags his tongue around slowly, licking through your soaking folds, tasting you. It reminds you of the way you’d seen him drink a really fine whisky, holding it in his mouth, quietly identifying every note, every flavor. Relishing, instead of rushing.

When his lips brush over your clit, leaving teasing kisses, you moan. Hyunjin hums, a self-satisfied little rumble, and lifts his head. “See? Told you you’d like this.”

“Please, shut up and suck my clit.” It’s meant to be an order but definitely sounds like a pathetic whine. Whatever, as long as he listens.

He listens. Those plush lips that you can’t stop yourself from staring at roll over your already throbbing little nub and warm pleasure runs down your spine before pooling in your belly. His dark hair keeps falling in his face, obscuring him from your view, and for some reason you can’t have that. Tentatively, you reach out, hand shaking a little.

Hyunjin hums when your fingers slide through his soft locks, pushing the strands back, holding them in place so you can see his eyes, the way they squeeze shut when he sucks noisily on your clit. The sounds he makes are so loud, completely uninhibited, moaning and grunting as his lips smack and his tongue laps.

He uses said tongue to fuck you expertly, his movements so confident, so sure. He reads every quiver, listens to every moan, figures out how to work you up with quick, teasing shallow plunges, before slowing it down, going deeper, tongue brushing your walls like he’s speaking a language only your body understands.

“Hyunjin,” you sigh, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

His mouth parts from you long enough for him to speak. “There it is. There’s the tone I was looking for. Enjoy this, sweetheart. I know I am.”

You’re enjoying it so much that you unexpectedly whimper when he stops again a moment later, feeling a little embarrassed as he exhales a quiet laugh into your warmth. “Just hold on,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit to pass over your clit again and again, before sliding a finger into your clenching hole.

“Ohhhh.”

The combination is so good, his finger filling you while his mouth suctions to you, that your eyes flutter shut. He pulls out and glides back in, all the way to his knuckles in one smooth motion, your wet folds parting so easily for him. He’s done an amazing job of spreading your slickness around, coating your inner thighs, messing his bed beneath you.

“Gonna make you come,” Hyunjin says, spreading you open with two fingers now. “Need you to come before I can fuck you just like you want. Can you do that for me?”

The tension in your gut tells you that that shouldn’t be a problem. Both fingers have curled inside you, stroking over your soft spot, making you pant, clutching Hyunjin’s satin sheets for dear life.

“Hy-Hyun-”

Before you can even finish saying his name, the tension snaps, nerves firing from your cunt to your toes, causing your legs to lock up. Hyunjin groans, moving his hands to grasp at your thighs, trying to loosen their squeeze.

“Easy, sweetheart, don’t take me out just yet.” When your body finally starts to relax, he grins. “There we go. Good girl.”

If this were any other time, you’d snap at him for dropping that pet phrase on you. But you’re too blissed out at the moment, practically purring as he starts to kiss his way up your torso.

When he reaches your breasts, he joins you, a low rumble sounding from the back of his throat. His nose nuzzles between them, as he leaves loud kisses on their swelling curves.

Another thing Hyunjin isn’t wrong about - his mouth feels much better than his fingers do on your nipples, tongue gliding like warm velvet against the pert nubs. You continuously moan, until you’re nearly panting, fingers once again finding his dark locks and threading themselves between.

“How am I doing, sweetheart?” he murmurs.

“Good.” It doesn’t even occur to you to tell him anything but the truth. “So good, Hyunjinnie. Ah!” You flinch as he suddenly nips the other nipple, teeth clamping gently. “Why?!”

“You and that damn nickname. I must not be doing enough if you’re still calling me that.” He rises onto his knees, shaking his head. “Guess I just gotta fuck it out of you.”

And just like that, you feel that spark again.

“Sure you will, Hyunjinnie,” you simper, voice dripping with honey, so sickeningly-sweet as you coo his name. It has the desired effect, making Hyunjin’s eyes flash.

He reaches for you, pulling you up into his lap, before you can so much as breathe. “You doubting me, sweetheart?” His hands press into your hips, urging you down on him. Both of you groan as his cock slides along your cunt, and the sparks inside you ignite.

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you spit back, feeling that familiar sense of agitation, but it’s not annoyance now, it’s anticipation.

“And I’m not really yours, but let’s play pretend for the night,” he drawls, and you look at him with wide eyes, but he kisses away the wonder on your face, working you up with teeth and tongue, until you’re frenzied with need. Your fingers clutch at his biceps, nails sinking in to tether him closer.

His hands on your waist guide you down again. As his cockhead breaches your lips, you keen, head falling forward onto his shoulder.

“Holy fuck,” you gasp. The stretch is delicious, cunt already throbbing around his thickness.

Both of you freeze when you’re fully seated on him, no sounds in the room but the rhythmic cadence of your panting intertwining with his.

“You know,” Hyunjin speaks through grit teeth, focused on the spot where your bodies join, “we could’ve been doing this a long, long time ago.”

You don’t know what to say to that. How long has he wanted this? You’re not sure the exact answer for yourself, except that it’s longer than you’d ever truly want to confess.

“Maybe - maybe if you weren’t such a - oh, oh, oh!” Your lame attempt at a retort is lost to the rapid snapping of Hyunjin’s hips when he starts to thrust up into you. There’s nothing you can do but bounce in his lap, clinging to his shoulders as he finally fucks you just as hard as he’d promised. “Hyunjin, please!”

Hyunjin grunts, perspiration trickling down his forehead as he concentrates on giving you what you wanted. His jaw flexes, brows drawn together in a frown, and even with this fierce expression on his face, he’s so beautiful that you can’t help yourself, diving forward to kiss that gorgeous mouth of his like you’ve always imagined, as if you weren’t just kissing him a few minutes ago, but like it’s the first time, tracing his lips with yours, imprinting the feeling of them against your own to store away in your memory for later.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” His words are the oxygen you inhale, tongues pressed together like the pages of a book. “I think I prefer you this way. So needy for my cock.” He smirks. “Kinda want to keep you like this.”

He digs his fingers into the plump roundness of your ass as he grinds into you, sliding you back and forth. Your hips undulate, rolling you down on his big cock, feeling every inch of him rubbing against your walls.

“Hyu-hyu-hyun!”

It’s impossible to get an entire word out, given the pace at which Hyunjin’s strokes are jostling you. Your staccato cries get louder when he switches it up, laying you on your back and shoving a pillow under your hips. His thighs smack into your ass with every plunge of his thick length, and again you can do nothing but try to breathe, drowning in euphoria as you are.

“Yeah, you’re best just like this. Stuffed full of cock, no room for thoughts. Or arguments.”

“F-fuck!” You were trying to say ‘fuck off’ but Hyunjin chose that moment to thumb at your clit, giving the aching nub the friction it so badly needed. Your hips buck up, making Hyunjin groan.

“Just like that, so good for me.”

You whine involuntarily at his praise, hips lifting again, trying to take him deeper. Every stroke of his cock lights you up, your body tingling from head to toe. The strong thrumming in your gut is going to overtake you soon and you’re finally going to get what you’ve been needing for weeks now. And it’s Hyunjin of all people who is going to give it to you.

You’re pulled out of your reverie as Hyunjin suddenly pulls out, falling onto his side next to you.

“What are y- oh!” You gasp as he turns you on your side, facing away from him. One hand lifts your leg, sliding it back until your calf loops over his. Then he enters you again, and again, thrusting in deep, powerful movements. “Oh, fuck, goddamn.”

“That’s right,” he growls, arm beneath you bending, hand coming to a rest around your throat. Not squeezing, but holding you in place, back pressed to his front. You’re both covered in sweat, bodies gliding over one another, making it hard for him to keep his pace. So his fingers spread on your chest, locking you in place, giving him leverage to pound into you. “Take it, sweetheart. Take what I give you like a good girl.”

“Ahhh,” you moan, “don’t - don’t call me that.”

“No? You don’t like being praised?” Hyunjin releases his hold on your thigh, running his others fingers around where his cock keeps sliding between your lips. “Your pussy tells me another story. You’re soaking my sheets.”

“Nah - ah - not that, ’s not that.” With this slightly slower rhythm, you’re able to speak, but full sentences still seem hard. “Like praise. Hate - hate good girl.”

“Ohhh, I see.” Hyunjin laughs breathily. “I should’ve known. You’re too proud. Think it makes you look weak if I call you that? Hmm?”

Even in your desperate state, you know he’s not far off from the truth. You don’t want him calling you that, because it feels like giving in to him. Letting him take control completely. Possessing you. His good girl.

The real, honest to god truth is - you can’t let him call you that, because you do want it. And you hate how much you want it.

So you deny it. Or at least, you try to. But all you can stutter is a weak “You’re s-such a d-dick,” as he continues snapping his hips into your ass, making your entire body jiggle in his strong grip.

Hyunjin drops an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder, wet and sloppy. You curl your fingers into his arm as you sense that you’re approaching the precipice of your orgasm. You can tell that it’s going to be an intense one, one of those climaxes that clears your mind of all thought and leaves you literally shaking in ecstasy. Just as he’d promised.

You do appreciate a man who follows through on his promises.

Hyunjin must feel the way you’re starting to clench around him, groaning into your shoulder. “Ahh, I think this little cunt’s trying to tell me something again, sweetheart. You gonna come for me? Hmmm?” His fingers rub over your clit, the sudden touch making you jolt. “Come on, be a good girl and c-”

Twisting your head, you smash your nose into his cheek, clumsily seeking his mouth. Cutting him off with heated kisses, hoping he’ll interpret it as annoyance fueling your actions and not see it for what it truly is - untamed desire.

A strangled cry passes from Hyunjin’s lips into yours, and with one more tweak to your clit, you come undone. Your body locks up, thighs going rigid, cunt clamping around his cock so fiercely that Hyunjin hisses loudly, forehead resting on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight,” he whispers in your ear. Sweat drips from his skin onto yours. “You’re gonna make me come. Is that what you want?”

You can’t answer. You’re gone, completely gone, beyond words, capable of making only the most broken, pathetic sounds, wantonly mewling as slowly grinds into you, cock rubbing against your clenching walls. When your legs start to go slack, he resumes his thrusting, but at a languorous pace, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to go easy on you now that you’re approaching overstimulation, or if he’s trying to slow himself down.

“I think it is what you want. I think you want me to fill this little pussy up with my cum, don’t you? Hmm?” His nose prods at your cheek. “A sweet creampie for my good girl?”

The whine that you let you out is pitifully loud. White hot shame spikes through you, but only for a second, the emotion quickly burnt away by your fervent need.

“Come on, tell me. Tell me you want it.”

“Ahhh!” You gasp as his cock sinks in deeper, hitting your g-spot. It’s almost too much, the delicious drag, and your fingers dig into his arm, nails sinking into his skin. “Fuck!”

“Tell me,” he says again, but this time there’s a plea laced into the command, a desperate edge in his tone that strikes a chord somewhere deep inside you, and suddenly you want to give him anything he needs.

“Hyunjin, I want it, p-please!”

Those are the magic words. Hyunjin groans, his hips falling out of their slow rhythm, jerking erratically as he does exactly what he said, shooting his load deep inside you, moaning your name the entire time. You grip the sheets so hard, you’re afraid you’ll tear them, shoving your hips back against his, riding out his climax with him.

“Pussy’s sucking me dry, sweetheart. So greedy,” he pants, trailing kisses along your neck. “Think it wants more.”

“Hyunjin!” You sob his name again, voice breaking. All it takes is his fingers pinching at your clit and you’re coming again, stomach twitching, breath leaving your body in one big rush.

When your body stops trembling, Hyunjin finally slips out of you, his hand falling away from your cunt. He lets out a tired laugh.

“You can take your nails out of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh.” Your neck burns a little in embarrassment. You hadn’t realized you were still holding on to him so tightly, unconsciously keeping him in place. Keeping him close to you. You relax your grip, and he slides his arms around you further, locking you into his embrace.

It’s… nice, being in Hyunjin’s arms. Really nice. Lying there, in your messy, tired state, you feel rather content.

But the longer you lie there, just breathing together, not speaking, your head starts to fill with thoughts again. Questions. The most pressing being, at what point is he going to kick you out? Because despite everything that just happened, he’s still Hyunjin, and you’re still you, and -

“It’s already started.” Hyunjin hums, lightly shaking you. “I can hear you thinking again.”

Your reflexes kick back in. “It’s just what I do. You should try it some time.”

To your surprise, Hyunjin starts to laugh. You roll over, nose bumping his as you give him a curious look.

“What?”

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” He brushes a finger over your cheek. “You’ve got a fighter’s instinct. It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to fight me all the time?”

You stare at him as you try to make sense of the rather casual confession of admiration he just dropped. Nope. Can’t. Not right now.

“I…” You pause. “Sorry. It’s just a habit.”

He smiles, something genuine that slowly shifts into his familiar smirk, and even as spent as you are, you feel a stirring inside you. “Guess we need to work on that.”

In the morning, you might regret what you say next. But the night’s not over yet. “Maybe you just didn’t fuck me stupid enough yet.”

Hyunjin accepts your challenge with a kiss.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

Taglist: @scoupsjin; @aznstoner; @yourtmblrgirlfriend; @hyunlvrs; @notevenheretbh1; @chrisbangsgalaxy; @dessianna1

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #skz imagines #skz x you #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids x you #fic: yours for the night

2K notes · View notes

candied-heartss · 5 months

Text

𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘

(𝑜𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘 𝑥 𝑓𝑒𝑚! 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰𝗿𝗶𝗽𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻: 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘅'𝘀 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝘂𝗽 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗮 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗸, 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘁 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝗻 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗵𝗼𝗹 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝘀𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝘂𝗻𝘀 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗼𝗹𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗰𝗸...

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 (18+), 𝑴!𝑫𝑶𝑴, 𝑭!𝑺𝑼𝑩, 𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯 𝑶𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑿 (𝑭 𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮), 𝑭𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑮𝑯 𝑷𝑬𝑵𝑬𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑽𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑿 (𝑾𝑹𝑨𝑷 𝑰𝑻 𝑩𝑬𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑻𝑨𝑷 𝑰𝑻, 𝒀'𝑨𝑳𝑳!), 𝑶𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑿 (𝑴 𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑬𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑮), 𝑫𝑬𝑮𝑹𝑨𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵, 𝑻𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑲𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑳𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 𝑺𝑳𝑨𝑷𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑮, 𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑼𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵, 𝑴𝑼𝑳𝑻𝑰𝑷𝑳𝑬 𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑨𝑺𝑴𝑺, 𝑷𝑼𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑪 𝑺𝑬𝑿 (𝑻𝑬𝑪𝑯𝑵𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳𝑳𝒀)

ᴡᴏʀᴅs: 2,248

As you drank from your glass, you saw something flutter past you, only being able to see it from the very corner of your eye.

With your attention now transfixed on this, you turned your head to find none other than your cousin Felix's plus one from his university, Oliver Quick, walking down the manor's dark hall.

"Oh, hullo," you greeted him kindly, drink being held idly in your hand. Slowly (and somewhat awkwardly), the brunette young man turned to look at you, flashing you a slightly tense smile, though you could tell something was wrong with him due to the heavy dilation of his pupils.

"Oh, erm, good evening," he answered shortly, seeming like he was rather reluctant to converse with anyone at this hour, "what are you doing up at this time of night?"

You continued to smile, hoping that if you continued showing him kindness, he would eventually warm up to your presence, "Oh, nothing much. I just... couldn't sleep, so I decided to get a drink." As you spoke, you realized that Oliver's brow was still furrowed, and it seemed like there was a lot on his mind, it quickly also made you realize that this was indeed landing you nowhere.

"I'm so sorry to ask, but... Are you alright? You seem a little... agitated. Would you like to talk about it? I'm a very good listener." you offered him, hoping that this suggestion would aid him in wanting to talk.

"I'm alright," he told you plainly, nothing more, nothing less. You frowned upon hearing his words, hoping to try again, "Really? Are you absolutely sure? I mean, you don't have to-"

"I'm. Alright."

Your bottom lip quivered ever so slightly at the sound of his voice raising an octave. You had never heard a man speak to you in such a... intense way like this, and it sent a bit of a shudder down your spine. Nodding, you quickly fell silent, grasping tighter onto the glass in your hand as you felt your face heat up.

"Sorry..." you muttered, not wanting to offend Felix's guest. But, he didn't say anything about it, not even a word. He just stood there, his eyes staring down at you with his brow slightly raised.

"Why do you look like that?" he asked you, but the tone of his voice made it sound more like a statement than a question. Your cheeks burned as the embarrassment began to settle in for you, and you decided to not say anything.

Before you could even think about what to finally say to him, you felt his hand graze your cheek before tilting your chin up so that you and Oliver made eye contact with one another.

"C'mon, look at me when I'm speaking to you. Don't be rude, now..." he told you softly, but sternly, tilting his head to the side a little bit. You chewed on your bottom lip once again, not used to the attention and the gaze that you were now on the receiving end of.

"Now, speak up," Oliver ordered you, his eyes flickering down to look at your lips before moving them back up to meet your eyes. You opened your mouth, trying to speak, only for no sound to escape past your lips, only little squeaks, 'I's', and 'um's', too nervous to speak up. He saw this and narrowed his eyes, leaning towards you and now resting his hand on your cheek.

"You have a mouth on you, don't you? So, use it, or I'll teach you how to," he suggested to you, though he managed to make it sound more like a threat than a statement. Only then you were finally able to get your words out, "I... I didn't mean to offend you if I did. I'm sorry for staring at you like that..."

Oliver still looked at you with a raised eyebrow, almost seeming like he didn't believe the words that tumbled (un)gracefully out of your mouth, "That was... Pathetic, unintelligent sounding even. Are you stupid?"

"What?"

Suddenly, you felt his lips press up against yours, one hand roughly buried into your hair before he pulled away. You were so shocked, so confused, and so dazed when it happened, it almost felt like the whole scenario was a sort of dream that you were having.

"What... What's going o-" You tried to speak, only to have him grab you and pull you closer to him, "Now listen, you're going to be a good girl, lift that nightgown of yours, and show me how wet you are."

Your eyes widened at the unexpected nature of his words and you laughed nervously, "Excuse me?"

"Oh, I believe that you heard me loud and clear, love. Show me how wet your cunt is. I bet it's dripping right now, isn't it?" he was right, you were beyond aroused at this point, and you were almost certain that he could see it practically running down your thighs.

You were then taken even more aback when he lifted you up and placed you on the dining room table, your legs now placed on the table's glossy, wood surface, slightly spread out enough for him to reach under the nightgown and gently tug the fabric of your underwear down, slipping it down past your thighs and letting it drop down to the floor. You shivered at the slightly cold air of the dining room meeting your bare skin as he looked at you.

"So," he mused, "I was right. You're thoroughly aroused. What, do you get off on being talked down to and degraded? You must be some masochistic whore."

Biting your lip, you pressed your thighs together to alleviate the dull throbbing sensation within you. Oliver saw this, and with a click of his tongue and a shake of his head, he raised his hand and gave you a quick, sharp smack on the cheek, making you yelp and open your legs once more, this time, giving him a full view of your cunt, needy and glistening while your clit throbbed again underneath his gaze.

Almost immediately, it was as if a switch had flipped in his head as he got onto his knees, pulled you to near the edge of the table, and buried his face in between your thighs, which instantly made you yelp as you felt his tongue licking every inch of your cunt and pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your clit.

"Oh!"

You gasped, before letting out a moan loud enough for nearly the entire manor to hear. When he heard your sounds, Oliver pulled away from your slick folds, only to raise his hand slightly again and bring it down in a harsh slap to your cunt, making you cry out in a mixture of both pleasure and pain, your body shaking a little bit.

"Do me a favor. Be a good girl and shut the fuck up, yeah?" he asked you before diving back into eating you out like a starving man, making you reach down and grab onto his hair tightly, nearly holding on for dear life.

Soon enough, the stimulation that you were receiving from Oliver was simply too much, almost to the point where practically anything could send you over the edge. Your body trembled as you felt your release creep up, pulling on his hair more and more with each second that passed by.

"Oliver! Oliver, I-I'm gonna... I'm gonna come, please..." you whimpered, your thighs shaking as you came closer. Nearly there, almost there, just a little bit more-

"Go on, do it. Make a mess for me, darling. It's alright, I've got you..."

That was what did it in for you, those words were the straw that broke the camel's back. At a moment's notice, your orgasm which had been brewing steadily was now being hurdled to you at the speed of light, making your vision go black and making you fall back against the table as you trembled and writhed beneath his tongue, your back arching as you moaned so loud, you were certain that you nearly woke everyone else in the manor.

When you came back down to Earth, you saw him stand up before pushing you back onto the table, picking one of your legs up and positioning it so that it rested over his shoulder, tracing a finger over the dampness of your slit before pushing it in, making you gasp and choke out a moan at the sheer length of his fingers.

Oliver saw your facial expression and smirked a little, clearly mocking you as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, "Aw, love, does it feel good?" you nodded profusely, your back arching slightly to try and get his fingers to go deeper inside of you, "Uh huh, it feels so, so good..."

He continues fucking his fingers into you, the overstimulation sending your brain into a spiral. You could barely come up with any cohesive thoughts, let alone speak as he pressed them deeper inside of you, his thumb just barely brushing over your clit as his fingertips hit your G-spot, which made you nearly scream his name.

"What is it, darling? Use your words and tell me, alright? It's okay..." he teased you a little bit as he curled his fingers to reach the spot that he was hitting again. The delicious combination of the pad of his thumb massaging over your clit as he thrusts his fingers deeper and deeper was enough of a push to make you climax once again, this time, your orgasm hitting you much harder than the last one as the pain from the previous orgasm melted away into hot, sinful ecstasy.

He then pulled his fingers away from you, only to go down and undo his trousers, sliding them down just enough to pull his cock out and tease your entrance with it, making you shiver as the tip slid over your clit, "Do you want this?" he asked you, "Remember, use your words."

You nodded, whining just a little bit, "Please Oliver, I need this... Please, I need it so bad." he smiled and with that, he guided his cock to your entrance before finally pushing his way inside of you, making you keen as you grabbed onto him and dug your nails into his shoulders.

"Shit," he groaned, tilting his head back and sighing heavily, "your cunt, it's so, so fucking tight."

He then gave a short moment to adjust to the size of his cock before he began thrusting, making you cry out in pleasure, especially with the angle he had positioned in. You felt him go so deep, you swore that you could feel his cock fucking your brains out.

He groaned again at the feeling of your cunt clenching around him before he reached up and wrapped his hand around your throat while he fucked you, making your eyes roll back into your head. Oliver chuckled a little before leaning down and hungrily pressing his lips against yours, kissing you as if his life depended on it.

"Oh, yeah? You like it when I choke you like this, sweet girl? You're shaking underneath me, darling..." he told you, still holding your leg over his shoulder as he continued to fuck you, the hand on your throat now grasping you tighter and making you gasp for air slightly, your cunt clenching around his cock as you got closer and closer to your third orgasm of the night.

"O-Oliver... Please... 'm so close... I..." you whined, your words coming out choked as he thrust even harder, his tip hitting your G-spot. He grunted as you could tell he was nearing the edge as well.

He then reached down, rubbing small, quick circles on your clit, the sensation sending a shockwave through you as got closer to climaxing.

"That's it, be a good girl and come for me."

And just like that, hearing those words nearly made you explode. With another loud moan, you came so hard around his cock, you practically saw stars, clenching around him and making him grunt and moan from the tightness.

As you came down from your intense high, you felt Oliver pull you down from the kitchen table and guide you to your knees as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, making your mouth open as he pushed his cock into your mouth, effectively fucking your throat.

Before long, it was Oliver who was on the edge as his thrusts into your mouth became more frantic and sloppy. When you felt the thick tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, you gagged and choked, looking up at him with now watery eyes.

"Fuck... Just like that... Keep your mouth open f'me, darling..." He moaned, his voice thick as he got closer and closer to finally coming.

The sheer thought of him using your mouth for his own pleasure seemed to excite you a little as you moaned around his cock, taking it further down your throat. He grunted once last time, forcing your head down the length of his cock before groaning loudly as he finally came down in your mouth. As he pulled away from you, you swallowed his cum, before wiping away any excess with the back of your hand.

Watching you, he smiled before kissing you on the lips, whispering into your ear, "Good girl, you take my cock so well, love."

#oliver quick smut #oliver quick #saltburn #felix catton #emerald fennell #oliver quick x reader

2K notes · View notes

tojigasm · 3 months

Note

felix would def rub your clit through your panties until you cum 💕 he’s such a tease :/

Yeshewouldyeshewouldyeshewould.

He'll do it at the most crude times as well. Most recently, being a party, the two of you had gone to.

You'd been sitting on his lap, your knees bent over his spread thighs. Your head rests against his shoulder as you fade in and out of consciousness, having been at the party for a little over two hours or so.

Felix can sense your tiredness as he massages the soft base of your neck, taking occasional sips from his glass cup of burboun while talking amongst his friends.

Every now and then, he tries to include you in the conversation, shrugging his shoulder against you or bouncing his knees to get you to wake up some.

"Whatcha' think about that, baby?" He'd ask, fully aware you weren't engaged at all.

"Hm?" You rub at one of your eyes, meeting his baby blues before letting yourself relax back into his hold.

At least another half hour passes before you've woken yourself up out of your tired state in annoyance.

You just wanted to go home and sleep, and all Felix seemed to want to do was talk until the damn birds were chirping and the sun was up.

"Lex," you tug at his baby blue polo.

He only hums, not bothering to turn towards you admist his conversation.

"Lex," you try again, pulling at his arm this time. "I wanna go back to the dorms. I'm tired."

"I-in a minute, hon." He gently waves at you before returning to the conversation.

The disregard for you sends another wave of annoyance through you.

Maneuvering yourself out of his hold, you stand and begin to take step – knowing Felix wouldn't let you walk back through the quad in the dark.

Almost immediately as you're standing, you're being pulled back by his hand on your forearm.

The conversation has shifted over to one of Felix's other friends.

When you fall back into the couch, Felix leans down to whisper in your ear.

"Behave."

"I wanna go–"

"Cut it out." He cuts you off with a quick swipe to your cunt through your leggings.

The pressure pulls a gasp from you, and one of his friends turns to look over at the two of you before engaging in the conversation again.

You go to speak, cut off by Felix pressing the heel of his palm against your heat and thumbing his fingers over your soaked folds through the leggings of your fabric as he joins into the conversation again.

Over the next ten or so minutes, he brings you to and from the edge over and over until you're visibly panting beside him into his arm.

"D'awh," Felix coos, "you gettin' tired?" He whispers low enough for you to hear.

You nod into his arm.

"Use your words." His voice deepens again.

"Please, I wanna cum." You sob through a choked whisper.

"Why should I let you? You've been acting like a spoiled brat this whole night." He flicks his thumb to apply pressure on your clit and you jolt.

"I've been being good, I have!" You cry into his shoulder.

Felix doesn't say anything for a moment, opting to circle his fingers over your soaked heat again and up to your clit.

"Cum fr'me then."

White hot heat sends shivers down your arms and legs as you come undone – biting at the freckled skin of his arm as he continues to circle your clit.

You grab at his wrist, halting his movements.

Chatter between the group continues before Felix takes a deep sigh and pats your thigh as he stands up.

"Well, it's gettin' late guys, and I gotta get her back to the dorms." He smiles as he helps you up on wobbly legs.

Nobody seems to notice your behavior as anything other than tired and work to make room for the two of you to exit the party.

As you both walk outside and he lands a slap to your ass.

"Don't try getting smart with me." He adds when you turn to him in shock, rubbing at your cheek to ease the sting. "If you behave tonight, I might give you something tomorrow."

#felix catton #saltburn #jacob elordi #felix catton x reader #jacob elordi x reader

1K notes · View notes

nosignalformiles · 2 years

Photo

#the fuck blackboard just made me laugh #fc felix #with this all the stuff i've been watching on v low light screen and workng on to screen record and stuff is done #got through a lot and laptop now gets an entire night off #which is good cause its been making me all squnty and pany behind my left eye sfor about an hour #and in general i want to choke down some pain relievers grab a gel pack and curl up in the darkness

0 notes

cdragons · 3 months

Text

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You

Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Felix is delulu, Reader is stressed and homesick and kinda crazy but she a baddie, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver will be Oliver (a creep), and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: This fic is a follow-up to this post and I would like to thank grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

“FUCK!” you yelled at the top of your lungs just before your nose slammed down on the dewy grass.

Groaning in pain before the mortification of realizing what had just happened kicked in.

You didn’t know what was worse: the fact you had a full front view of the giant’s junk or that he body-slammed you onto the ground and caused you to land on top of the painting worth 30% of your final grade.

You wanted to scream your head off. The paint had finally dried, and you could finally leave the studio at two in the morning. It was close to finals, and pretty much anyone on campus who didn’t get accepted because of their daddy’s bank account was in their dorms. You had hoped that this fact would mean that the paths were empty and, therefore, safe to transport your 30” x 40” canvas.

“SORRY!”

You shot your head up to locate the person who just apologized. Lo’ and behold, it was the same plastered, pasty cunt with a bird’s nest disaster of a haircut drunken idiot who decided it was a good idea to go streaking across campus. His only other distinguishable features were that he was at least 6’3” and that he had a small steel piece pierced on his face.

After the “apology,” he and his friend continued running off to God’s knows where in the dead of night—leaving you behind on the lawn with a bleeding nose, bruised knees and palms, and an oil painting that was torn and caked in mud three days before its deadline.

There was no way to redo it. The project was assigned at the beginning of October. It took 5 hours to set up the models with the motifs and lights, 3 hours to take pictures, and 10 hours to underdraw the preliminary sketch. You didn’t even want to think about the sheer number of sleepless nights you spent in the studio mixing colors and layering. On top of that, you also had your other finals in other courses to study for.

You had practically been living in that studio for the past month. All of the custodians and security guards knew you by name. You got first dibs every day when they refilled the vending machines. It was a true godsend when you didn’t have time to visit the dining halls. Everyone had been so kind and sweet to you. It was a warm welcome compared to the snark and snobbery you experienced from most of your classmates.

Crying from the devastation of the loss of your situation, your shaking legs carried your body and what remained of your work into the building. You knew that your professor stayed in her office late for grading. You could only hope that she would sympathize with your pitiful appearance.

“Wait, so did you get the extension?”

Lifting your head from the sticky library table at Bodleian’s, you stared at your best only friend, Michael Gavey, with a blank stare. You didn’t react to his wince after he took in your haggard appearance. You didn’t need a mirror to know that you looked terrible.

Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot red with dark mulberry bags underneath them. You had paled since coming to dreary England, but now you looked straight-up sickly. And if that wasn’t enough, your eyes had less life than a dead fish rotting at a Sunday Market.

Your voice was so meek that you were sure he had to strain to hear you.

“Yeah…I got it.”

You knew you had no choice but to beg your Studio Arts professor for an extension. But it killed you doing it. Professor Daria Martin was your favorite teacher and the only faculty member who actually liked you. Her support toward you meant everything to you; the last thing you wanted to do was disappoint her, let alone be the reason why she lost her job.

Your usually so snarky four-eyed friend perked up at the news.

“So, is everything okay?” he asked with hope.

Your head fell on neon-yellow ink-stained pages that filled the paperweight your ethics professor called a textbook. A bitter laugh fell from as your lips lifted to a wry, dry grin.

“Oof, not that simple, is it?” he asked.

“Is it ever?”

“So what do you have to do now?”

“Well-,” you lifted your head to take a deep breath as you started to explain, “- I still have the photos and copies of the sketch. But because the canvas was so large, it was special-ordered. That means I need to wait until another one can be delivered, and since all the works need to be completed in the studio, I can’t leave the campus.”

As you finished your explanation, Michael nodded his head in understanding before he paused, and a look of devastation painted his features.

“Wait, so does that mean-”

“I won’t be able to fly back home for the holidays.”

Fuck, you were about to cry again. You had been so excited to see your old friends and family. You remembered how absolutely homesick you were at the beginning of the term. Because you were a scholarship student from America, your parents encouraged you to settle on campus by moving to your dorm earlier than everyone else. It was bad enough that you missed Thanksgiving, but you had really set your heart on coming home for Christmas and New Year’s. What made it worse was that your parents had told you all about the dinner they had planned for your homecoming. It was going to be a feast of all your favorites.

English food sucked balls.

Your only saving grace was the Crunchie bars Michael got for you when you studied together or when you had to rewrite edit his essays.

You really DID cry after first reading his essay for Introductory English class at the beginning of the year.

“Did you try to report it?”

“Report what? ‘Hey, there’s a wasted asshole running naked across campus, and he body-slammed me to the ground and tore my fucking massive campus that blocked my view of the jackass. He’s probably richer than the goddamn Queen, given how he’s wasted right before finals.’”

“Do you have any description of him?”

“He’s a giant with a small eyebrow piercing, and his fat ass looked like it had never seen the sun.”

Without lifting your head, you heard the scrape of Michael’s chair before he walked across the table to sit in the chair next to you.

“Hey,” he began, bringing you into a warm arm hug, “it’ll be okay. You called your parents about it, right?”

“Yeah -” you sighed before continuing, “- they told me they understood and would Skype me daily.”

“See! Everything’s going to be – wait, did you say that this guy was tall?”

Furrowing your brow in confusion, you looked at your friend at the change in his tone from light and supportive to sharp and interrogative.

“Yeah?”

“How tall?”

“Umm,” you had to think about that, “I’d say he was about 6’3” or above? He was really fucking tall.”

“And he had an eyebrow piercing?”

Ok, now you were really confused. “Yes? Michael, where are you going with this?”

“I think the guy who ran you over was Felix Catton.”

You shot your favorite idiot with a deadpan glare.

“Felix Catton? The same Felix Catton who just so happens to be the same Felix Catton you hate?”

Michael solemnly nodded. “It’s him. It has to be. The only person on campus as tall as him is his cousin, and he doesn’t have piercings.”

“And he’s black.”

“Yeah, that too.”

You were skeptical, and it showed. You didn’t want to callously dismiss your friend, but you knew more than anyone how much his hatred for Oxford’s Golden Boy could impair his judgment. You were by no means a fan of the guy, but accusing someone of anything they didn’t do just because your friend thought so went against your principles.

He grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bookshelf in front of the table where Felix and his groupies sat. Both of your books and bags were in your chairs, but you managed to keep your spiral notebook with you. It wasn’t hard to find them – they were the loudest table in the entire library. They also reeked of cigarettes and booze.

“See?” Michael hissed. “Giant, pale, and eyebrow piercing. It’s him!”

“Michael,” you softly groaned, “just because you hate Felix Catton doesn’t mean you can –”

An extremely shrill voice interrupted you.

“I can’t believe you and Farleigh actually ran around campus naked!”

A petite girl with full pink lips and dull red hair latched on the arm of the man of the hour. “It was so hot to watch!”

This girl has weird-ass tastes in guys.

“And then how you crashed into that dunce at Ruskin! Brilliant!”

Your blood ran cold while another one of Catton’s faceless droning puppets chimed in.

“God, what an idiot! It’s their own fault, anyway. Who the fuck walks in the middle of the walk path with a fucking big canvas in front of them?”

One of the lessons hammered into your skull young was never to move before you think. That lesson had saved you ten ways from Sunday. But this was not one of those times.

You’re pretty sure that you hear Michael calling out your name as you walk away from the shelf and towards the overcrowded table. Tunnel vision took over you as you made your way to the overgrown idiot who almost cost you your entire future.

Grabbing the back of his shirt collar, you dragged the 6’5” towering fool on his ass all the way outside. You finally let go when the two of you reached the back of the building that had no windows.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, did you relish the crunch that immediately followed your swing.

Fuck, was his head killing him.

Felix should have known better than to have gotten cross-faded last night, but Farleigh had practically goaded him to do it. It’s not like his cousin ever had to worry about his grades for any of his courses during finals – the little shit-starter had always been so fucking academically gifted.

He skipped pretty much all of his morning classes and barely made it to his afternoon schedule on time while completely zoning out the entire time.

If he bombs on all his finals, his dad was going to absolutely murder him. But chances were he and his mum were going to be too busy entertaining whichever new friend his mum brought in for shelter.

“You alright there, champ?”

Felix swiveled his head too quickly and immediately groaned in pain. The motion made his hangover even worse. Rubbing his eyes to try to soothe the pounding in his head, he slowly opened them to look at his cousin.

The slag didn’t have the decency to look even a little bit affected from last night’s event – the fucker. No, he was sitting there with all Cheshire grins and gleaming eyes while Felix was two seconds from heaving his guts out.

“Yeah, I’m alright, mate.” He replied in a tired groan.

“Must have been quite the night. Wonder if it had anything to do with that little cocktail you took from our sweet Annabel’s belly button?”

Disgust was clear on Felix’s face as he recalled the body shot he had taken from his ex-FWB’s navel. He truly must have been off his rocker last night – he thought he was over with body shots since graduating secondary, but apparently not.

If he somehow got an STD from doing it, V was going to kill him.

But even with all of his horrible actions that caused the raging war inside his skull, that wasn’t the main cause of his misery.

Farleigh’s grin dropped as judgment painted his features.

“Oh,” he moaned, “please tell me this isn’t about ‘your angel’ from last night.”

He didn’t just take the dare of streaking across the grounds just for the hell of it. He needed an excuse to pass through the art building – all for the chance of seeing you.

You. His angel of paints and books who lived in the empty studio rooms of Oxford University’s Ruskin School of Art and whose presence harangued him every hour of every day. Everywhere Felix went, he would unconsciously look for you.

It was his soul calling out for yours – he knew it.

Felix had never felt so drawn to another human being in his entire existence. He’d never seen you outside of the libraries, art building, and maybe the dining hall if he was lucky. You never went to any parties or even had a drink at the pub at King’s Arms. He didn’t even have classes with you, but he knew Farleigh did. Word was that you and his cousin had shared a few classes – what’s more was that you were likely the only person who could go head-to-head with him in academics.

And to make it worse, the prat refused to tell him anything about you – not even your fucking name.

“Believe me,” he told him after Felix had been begging his cousin for hours to share anything about you, “she is way above your league.”

Which really hurt his feelings, by the way – sure, you were probably way above in book smarts, but there wasn’t a girl that remained indifferent to his charms after a good talking fucking.

“I still can’t believe you won’t at least tell me her name,” Felix complained once more, “or even just give me her number!”

“She’s an American here on scholarship and a bore,” he quipped back, “what’s there to tell? And can you please shut up? I want to get some reading done before tonight. You do remember the in-class essay we have tomorrow, right?”

Bloody hell, he did not. Pushing down the bitter feeling in his chest, he and his cousin made their way to meet everyone at the back. As soon as he sat down, Annabel clung on to his arm. Thank fuck he had been wearing one of his thicker jumpers – otherwise, her claws that she called nails would have ripped open the fabric.

“Hey, Felix!” she made sure to offer a very generous sight of her cleavage, “are you ready for tonight?”

Felix chuckled lowly before responding. “Aren’t I always?”

And just like that – he completely zoned out the rest of the conversation.

Annabel was probably saying something to get him to notice her, and Farleigh was likely responding so he wouldn’t have to – but Felix couldn’t be bothered to pretend to care.

He was lost in the living daydream that was his angel that haunted the art studios of Ruskin School of Art.

He was desperate to learn everything about you.

If he asked you to talk about your favorite books, would your eyes sparkle in delight, or would your smile widen in glee?

If he grabbed your hand, would your palms feel marred by his rough skin, or would you press your callouses to his?

If he pressed his mouth on yours, would your lips feel as soft and plump as they look? Or was their luster forever damaged by your teeth biting them whenever you were in deep concentration?

If he breathed in your scent at the crook of your neck, would your skin smell like the paints forever on your brushes or the musky pages of heavy ancient books you always carried in your arms?

If he planted kisses from your throat to your breasts, would you mewl in pleasure or whimper in anticipation?

If he touched your cunt, would you arch your back in ecstasy? Or would your legs crumble, and you would have no choice but to sink into his arms?

Felix’s thoughts were rudely interrupted when Farleigh jammed his bony elbow into his ribcage and hurriedly whispered.

“Look alive, Golden Boy.”

Looking forward, it was better than any of his wet dreams combined. It was you.

Your hair was loose, and your fists were clenched. You reminded him of a ferocious lion goddess with how focused your gaze was on him.

But before Felix would prepare himself to make a good impression, you walked behind him and grabbed the back of his shirt collar before fucking dragging his ass out of his seat and outside.

Bloody hell, for someone so much shorter than him, you were fucking strong.

When you finally released your grip, he fell on the ground like an idiot before he tried to stand and steady himself as quickly as he could.

“Hey, what the fu –”

You didn’t let him finish as you brought your fist to hit him square in the face – and, fuck, you might have actually broken his nose.

After staggering back, you started using the spiral notebook in your other hand to land blow after painful blow on his body.

“YOU. STUPID. FUCKING. INGRATE –” Each word that left your mouth was emphasized with another hit from your notebook “– I. HATE. YOU. YOU. RUINED. MY. PAINTING. I. SPENT. SO. MUCH. TIME. ON. IT. AND. NOW. I. CAN’T. GO. HOME. FOR. BREAK. BECAUSE. OF. YOUR. STUPID. SELF!”

Felix was confident you had more to say, but you were pulled off him by your friend – he’s pretty sure it’s Mitchell – by the waist with you kicking and screaming out profanities to him as your friend called out your name to try to calm you down.

He wondered what it said about him if he told anyone how much you looked like an angry cat. His parents would send him to a shrink if he told them how adorable he found you right now.

If you were this wild while fighting, he could only imagine how riled up you would get in bed.

Fuck, you might have just unlocked a new kink in him.

Catching his breath as he watched your friend drag you away into the distance, he heard a slow clap to his left.

Farleigh was leaning on the corner – his smug expression making it clear that he had seen the whole thing – as he looked at his cousin with a bemused expression before walking toward him and giving a sympathetic pat on his back.

“Well,” he started to break the tension, “at least you know her name.”

“Yeah,” Felix agreed, “I know her name.”

And he knew that you smelled more like the paints on your brushes than the books you carried with subtle notes of gardenias.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @aphroditesmoon, @barbiedragon, @valeskafics, @lexyysworld, @punkiwiki, @saltburnedme, @arcielee

Let me know if you want to be tagged for future Saltburn fics!

#saltburn x reader #saltburn #saltburn crack #saltburn au #felix catton x reader #farleigh catton #farleigh start #venetia catton #oliver quick #michael gavey #saltburn 2023 #saltburn movie #michael gavey x reader

798 notes · View notes

hyunsvngs · 7 months

Text

𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 - yang jeongin x gn!fem reader, lee minho x gn!fem reader

wc: 5.2k

cw: sex with no strings attached between mc & jeongin, some boy x boy action, established relationship between mc & minho, smut mdni

synopsis: you and your favourite boy have planned to take apart the youngest member of the frat - but the question is, what has developed along the way? your hot bitch summer has a high chance of being fully successful, albeit with some new feelings.

a/n: THE LAST PART OF HOT BITCH SUMMER OH YEAH WOO YEAH EVERYONE ENJOY! smut warnings under the cut!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: boy x boy action, threesome, dirty talk, sub jeongin then possibly a bit dom jeongin, jeongin's a virgin, loss of virginity, corruption kink if you squint, mc has a wap, oral (m rec), cumswapping if you squint, creampies, unprotected sex, sex with no strings attached

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You were alarmed.

Minho had invited you over, claiming he had ‘something you needed to see’, and when you asked if it was his dick, he said no. For the short journey to the frat house, you couldn’t help but contemplate what it was. Why was it urgent, too? You’d asked if you could just go tomorrow, but he wasn’t having any of it, claiming it needed to be done today.

You opened the door when you got there, sniffing at the prevalent smell of weed. Of course, Jisung was perched on the couch cuddled up to Felix with his hand in a bag of crisps.

“Oh, hey,” He said, cheeks red. “He’s upstairs.”

You nodded, feeling slightly miffed that your best friends were getting high without you. It was whatever, really - guaranteed they’d be knocking on Minho’s bedroom door in an hour to invite you. When you entered Minho’s room, he was sitting at his desk, scribbling away at a piece of paper.

“You’re here!” He spun on his chair, giggling. Okay, now you’re even more alarmed. What is he so excited for? You didn’t think you’d ever seen Minho this excited.

“Minho, I’m currently terrified,” You said, feet planted firmly on the floor. He just smiled again, bunny teeth showing and hopped up from his chair like he really was a bunny. Before you could say something else, interrogate him even, he was dragging you to the upstairs hallway.

You watched in shock as he grabbed a ladder, positioning it underneath the small hatch in the ceiling.

“Minho, do I dare ask why you’re taking me into the attic?”

“It’s a surprise,” He huffed, the typical scornful look back on his face. “The surprise is in the attic.”

“Are you going to take me up here and kill me? I’d rather know beforehand, y’know, so I could prepare-“

“Honey, if I was going to kill you, I would’ve done it a long time ago,” He replied. Quick as a flash, the smile was back on his face, and he was creeping up the ladder to push the hatch open. You sighed as he pulled himself up and into the attic, and then he was poking his head over. All you saw were two dark eyes and a mess of dark hair, and you grinned. He was so cute. “Are you going to come up or just stand there?”

You scoffed, and then followed his steps, climbing up the ladder. Minho pulled a cord from the slanted roof once you were up there, and then you were gobsmacked.

Fairy lights were strung up around the room, adorning a sun and moon tapestry on the wall. There was a bed pushed against one of the walls, looking newly-built and never slept in with cozy light pink bed sheets on. Most importantly, a little bunny teddy sat in the middle of the bed, looking up at you with its beady eyes.It wasn’t a big bedroom, but it had clearly been renovated for some reason or other, and somehow decorated exactly to your taste.

“Minho-“

“Ssh, let me speak,” Minho came behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle. You hummed, holding onto his wrists. You could feel the soft fabric of his dark green hoodie against your back. “You’re over here all the time anyway, right? I thought you may as well have your own space, should you ever need it. Like, if we argue or something.”

“This is for me…?” You asked, in a meek voice. You guessed as much anyway, but you needed it confirmed. Minho nodded against your shoulder, kissing your cheek.

“Of course,” He replied. Then, he shifted from behind you and coughed, clearing his throat. You turned to look at him, seeing the tips of his ears burning crimson and his eyes averted to the wall. “I mean, I just threw it together really quickly. We can redecorate if you don’t like it, or-“

“Minho,” You cut him off, kissing his nose. He scrunched it up, swatting you away playfully. “It’s perfect. I just feel so bad, you’ve done all of this for me when I spend most of my time here in your bed anyway.”

Minho chuckled. He pulled you over to the bed and you sat on the edge with him, giggling as he grabbed the bunny teddy and placed it in your lap. “It’s for if you ever need time alone, like I said. I know how nice it is to have a space to call your own, honey.”

Since fucking Chan in his car, one thing had been on your mind. You’d said you were close to Minho, and that had been how you’d put it. Now… seeing what he’d done for you, the bunny teddy included - it just looked so much like him - you needed to ask. So be it if it ruins the friendship - you’d harboured the feelings a bit too long to deny it. He’d been the one to start it all, kickstarting the crazy time you’d had in the frat and he’d been by your side all the way through it.

After all, all you’d really wanted was him.

“Min,” You began, emboldened by the sweet thing he’d done. Redecorating a whole attic must have been hard. “I… what are we, Minho? I kind of just need you to be upfront with me at this point.”

A beat passed, with no words spoken between the two of you. Your hands remained clutched around the bunny. Minho took a sharp inhale of breath. Then, he was laughing the type of full body laugh you’d only seen him do a few times. He threw himself on the bed, thrashing around in his laughter, and you swatted him.

“Don’t laugh at me-!” You squeaked, pouting.

“No, no, I’m sorry, honey,” He pulled you into him, chest still shaking. “It’s just really funny. I mean, I thought we were together this whole time.”

You blinked. Together? “But… I’ve been fucking your friends.”

“You’re the only one I’d trust to fuck all of my friends, dummy,” He said, kissing your forehead. “Also, God knows I get off on it massively. You know it’s a kink for me, my partner fucking my boys. It’s hot as fuck smelling them on you.”

“Oh,” You said, intelligently. Minho chuckled again, brushing your hair out of your face when you looked up at him. “So, we’re together.”

“I think we have been, haven’t we?” He murmured, eyes gazing directly into yours. It made sense, so you nodded. You’d just been extremely fucking dumb. What was new? You suddenly noticed your surroundings, though.

“Minho,” You began, and he hummed in response. “We’re on a bed.”

He blinked, and then he was smirking. “Yeah. That we are, huh?”

You licked your lips. “It’s a new bed.”

“Yup.”

“Let’s christen it.”

Minho practically pounced on you. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You were in that exact room a week later, flicking through one of the romance novels Seungmin had recommended when you saw a head burst through the hatch. Unsurprisingly, it was your boyfriend. Minho fell onto the floor as soon as he came through.

“He said yes,” He breathed, panting heavily. You raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you panting so fucking hard?”

“I pulled myself up here without a ladder,” Minho explained, wiping his forehead. “I got too excited because he said yes. He’s pretty damn excited about it, too.”

You raised an eyebrow, bookmarking your page and shutting your book. Seungmin would murder you if you dog-eared his precious book. “Sorry, Min, what are we talking about again?”

Minho shot up, glaring at you. “Um, Jeongin? Obviously.”

You gasped. Jeongin had said yes? You were going to complete your hot bitch summer, and it would end in taking a virginity. But… was Jeongin seriously comfortable with it?

“Is he… is he sure?” You asked, uncertain. To some people, losing their virginity is a serious thing. Jeongin may be one of those people.

Minho scoffed. “He’s been hard ever since you started fucking around. He’s been waiting, honey. I mean, I think he would have rather been involved with the orgy we had, but…”

“Oh, fuck. We totally should’ve invited him,” You gushed. Minho nodded, shrugging. He was still on the floor. “Anyway, he wants you to be there?”

Minho nodded. “He’s pretty excited about that, too.”

Picturing the two men together, you couldn't help but grin. "Okay, so when? When does he wanna do it? Like, tonight?"

Minho shoved your shoulder gently, shaking his head at you. "He's not the only one who's excited, hm?"

"I'm not gonna pretend to not be excited, Min. We get to fuck a virgin together! I know you're fucking thrilled too, don't act so nonchalant."

"Alright, alright," he conceded. "Anyways, tonight works for him, if you're up to it. Well, as soon as possible, really. You wanna make him wait for it?"

You considered this briefly. "I don't know if I can even make myself wait for it. I wanna shower first, though."

"Sure, go get ready." Minho began to head down the ladder.

"Don't you dare start without me!" You yelled down at him.

"Jesus, Y/N, some of us can keep it in our pants for twenty minutes," You heard him mutter snarkily as he descended.

The whole shower you were excited. It was hard to keep from slipping on the tiled floor as you rushed around, shaving and moisturising specifically to rock Jeongin’s world. You had to make his loss of virginity an amazing experience.

Arriving at Minho’s room in your towel, you opened the door and were met with a delectable sight. As the door opened, Jeongin sprung apart from your boyfriend with blushing cheeks and wide eyes. He looked flustered, caught in the act by you, and Minho sat nonchalantly.

You pouted, clutching onto your towel. Your hair dripped wet droplets from your shower down onto your chest, and Jeongin’s eyes followed the journey. “I told you not to start without me, Min. You said you could keep it in-“

“Couldn’t help myself,” Minho replied, shrugging. “He’s a good kisser. Also, nothing’s escaped my pants.”

You tilted your head to the side, sizing up Jeongin. He was cute, annoyingly so in his joggers and loose t-shirt, and he was pitching a sizable tent. You had to know what you were dealing with - a full on virgin, or had he done a little something before?

“Innie?” You mused, and he stared at you owlishly. “Have you seen a pussy before, baby?”

He shook his head. “Never. I really want to, though.”

“I bet you do,” Minho hummed, pulling Jeongin over to sit between his legs. You watched in awe as Minho kissed up the column of Jeongin’s throat, making Jeongin bare his neck in acceptance. His eyes were soft when he looked at you, but you could see something beneath them - something wanting, needing. Minho nipped at Jeongin’s earlobe, and then he spoke again. “Why don’t you drop the towel, kitty?”

You smiled, reaching up to undo the knot in the plush white towel. It fell to the floor in a heap, just in front of your feet and in between the two boys perched on Minho’s bed. Jeongin’s jaw dropped.

“C’mere, kitty,” Minho murmured, and you raised an eyebrow. “Come lay on the bed and let me show Innie how to play with a pussy.”

Well, you were definitely down for that. The blankets felt a little awkward with your body still being slightly damp, but you wriggled around until you were comfortable anyway, head back against the pillows. Minho’s bed was way too familiar to you now, and you revelled in the familiarity while doing something so new. You kept your legs shut, watching the two boys turn towards you with eager eyes.

“Spread your legs,” Minho commanded, and you obliged. You let your thighs fall apart and Jeongin’s eyes immediately fell to the wetness between your legs. “You see that, Jeongin? You’ve made it wet, yeah?” Minho chuckled and leaned in closer, his hand running up your thigh. He leaned in and kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring your mouth. You felt yourself getting wetter as Jeongin's eyes watched the two of you kissing, his body shifting on the sheets.

You pulled away, grinning at Jeongin. “Do you want us to teach you what to do?”

“I- I mean, yeah, that’d be good,” He cleared his throat. “For future reference, and everything.”

“Okay,” You giggled, nodding. “Come and kiss me then. That’s a good start, no?”

Despite being the one to ask him to come and kiss you, you wrapped your hand in the fabric of his t-shirt and pulled him towards you. Jeongin squeaked, and fell on top of you, right between your spread legs. You let out an amused noise when his eyes seemed to dart between your face, your tits and your pussy, now pressed into his bulge, and then you were pulling him down by the back of his head.

Minho was right. He was a good kisser. He seemed to like the push and pull, being dominant one second and then letting you take the lead within seconds after. You let your hand run through his dark locks, pulling on it just a little, and Jeongin let out a low groan of approval. Minho chuckled next to you. Jeongin’s hands, however, seemed perfectly stationed either side of your head on the pillow. He was being respectful, but it was perhaps a bit too respectful.

“Jeongin,” You whispered against his lips. He raised his eyebrows, showing you he was listening. “Who taught you how to kiss? You’re an insanely good kisser.”

Jeongin laughed, a cute, melodic sound. “Hyunjin.”

Makes sense. “That’s cute, Jeongin,” You smiled. “Did he touch your dick, too?”

“Straight to the point,” Minho mused. You gave him a glare, side-eyeing where he was palming over his trousers. You wanted to touch him, but no - you had to focus on Jeongin for now.

“Mm, yeah, he jerked me off,” Jeongin nodded, and in a bold move for him, he leaned down to press a few kisses against the column of your neck. “Minho’s jerked me off before, too.”

You turned to Minho, lips parting in shock. Minho merely shrugged. “He has a nice cock. Jeongin, strip.”

Jeongin leaned up, looking at Minho in bewilderment. You chuckled, running one hand down his clothed chest. “I don’t need foreplay, Innie. Other people probably will, for future reference, but… I get too desperate and impatient. So, yeah. Get naked. Please.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, yeah,” You watched in glee as Jeongin yanked his t-shirt off, and then your jaw dropped. Jesus, was he always that built? You’d never really noticed, only seeing him as a cute guy with a lot of love for his friends and a hate for being called a baby. His skin was pulled tight around very, very sculpted abs - ones that could actually rival Chan’s if Jeongin decided to show them off more. You hoped he would. Letting one hand run down his abs, you hooked your fingers into his joggers, and pulled the fabric down - boxers too, because you really were known for being impatient.

Wow. Jeongin’s dick was hard and standing at attention. You licked your lips when you saw the short, dark curls at his base, framing a thick, average-length cock. The tip was ruddy, flushed and leaking precum in pearlescent drops that made you need him inside of you. You reached down and took him in your hand, stroking him lightly. He moaned in response, hips kicking up into the friction, and you pulled him closer, your other hand caressing his cheek. You smiled and leaned in for another kiss, feeling him harden even more in your grasp.

“I want this inside of me so bad,” You murmured. He sighed, although it was more like him choking on air. “Do you want to fuck me, Jeongin?”

“God, yes, but-” He cut himself off, turning to Minho. Minho raised an eyebrow, hand still stroking over his clothed erection. “Is it… okay if I go in without a condom? Is it okay with you?”

“I don’t think I’m the right person to ask, Innie,” Minho chuckled, finally pushing his joggers down. Your mouth watered when you saw his erection, familiar and just as exciting as the first time you saw it. Jeongin turned back to you, his eyes fixated on yours.

“Fuck me raw, Jeongin,” You nodded. “I want to feel you, all of you.”

Jeongin sighed, and then he positioned his length at your entrance. His cockhead was thick, and you could feel the heaviness of it before he’d even pushed in and entered your pussy. He left it at your folds for a second, just resting against you, as if he didn’t know what to do. You shifted your hips, hoping to get him inside. The movement was too quick, however, and his cock dragged through your pussy lips without breaching.

“You’re too excited, kitty,” Minho murmured, hand stroking over your hair. You huffed, and he chuckled. “C’mere, let me do it.”

You watched in awe as Minho wrapped a tight fist around Jeongin’s length, positioning at your drippy hole. It was a shock when Jeongin finally let his sexual urges take over, pushing in fully and bottoming out in one thrust. You jolted, whining at the stretch.

“Fuck, Innie, you're thick. You've got a really nice dick, you know that?”

He let out a strained laugh, abs tensing above you. “I've been told.”

“Like this, Innie,” You went fully pliant as Minho pushed your legs up, letting Jeongin use his weight to enter you deeper. He started to thrust into you, sharp and strong albeit clumsy. The friction against your g-spot made you wail, eyes bleary with the feeling of uncalculated thrusts so deep inside of you. “Feels better like this, yeah?”

“Oh, this is wet,” Jeongin blurted, and it was almost like a question, his facial expression in disbelief. You really were wet, from the thought of taking someone’s virginity and the feeling of his cock pressing into you. Not to mention your boyfriend being so close to you, jerking his beautiful cock watching his girlfriend and his friend writhe in ecstasy. Jeongin was whining, hips sharply hitting against yours. “Fuck, I’m in so deep, it’s so good-”

It was good, almost too good - you loved watching Jeongin fall apart above you. It was like he couldn’t handle the pleasure he was feeling, little sighs and sharp grunts falling out of his lips. His eyes were dazed, staring down at you but unfocused as he focused on chasing his high. He had no clue what he was doing, but it somehow made the situation sexier - you were showing him how to fuck a pussy.

The knowledge that it was his first time, that you were corrupting someone previously so innocent and cute had you clenching around his cock tightly. You could cum just from this - something you’d discovered when fucking around with the others - and it wouldn’t take long, your thoughts running rampant and whines tumbling out of your mouth.

You whined when Jeongin slipped out from you clenching so tightly, his hair wet with sweat and his eyes watery. Minho scoffed, one hand on Jeongin’s hip to push him back in.

“Get back inside there, Jeongin,” He commanded, his eyes dark as he stared at Jeongin’s dick. It was wet with your essence, the tip leaking pearlescent droplets that you wanted inside. “You were going to make that pussy cum. You need to get back in if you want to learn.”

“I- I can’t, hyung,” Jeongin whined, shaking his head. He was crying now, fat tears dripping down his perfect skin. You moaned, one hand stroking his hair back to see his cute face. He was pouting, eyes sending a million apologies to you. “It’s too wet, I can’t. It’s too much, I’m gonna cum-”

Minho’s hand reached down and wrapped around Jeongin’s dick, pumping the length steadily. You gasped, lips parting as you watched Jeongin’s hips attempt not to fuck up into the tight ring that Minho had formed around the base of his cock. Minho gave him a few strokes, firm and tight, and then he was tapping the head of Jeongin’s cock against your clit.

“Ah, h-hyung, that’s good,” Jeongin wailed, and Minho smirked. His thumb swiped over the head of Jeongin’s cock, inadvertently rubbing over your clit too, and you jolted.

“I need it, Innie,” You pouted, staring up at him. He let his eyes meet with yours, his bottom lip quivering. “Please. Please, I need it, I’ll cum on your cock, I promise. It’ll get wetter, but you can handle it, I swear-”

“Fuck, fuck! Okay, okay,” Jeongin shook his head in shock, and then he let Minho push his cock back inside of you. Immediately, he was resuming a blistering pace inside of you, mindless and set on making you cum. Minho’s hand reached up to rub circles around your clit and you moaned loudly, trying to ignore the cramps in your legs from having them pushed back for so long. Jeongin grunted when you clenched around him, his facial expression wild and lustful. “Oh my God, I think I’m going to cum.”

“Make your partner come first, Jeongin,” Minho chastised, and you whimpered at the dominant tone of his voice. You could feel your eyes rolling back into your head, toes curling as you got closer to your peak. “It’s not gonna take long. See, look at their eyes.”

Jeongin blinked down at you, hands moving to your hips to try and keep a steady rhythm. He’d slowed down a little, trying to avoid his own orgasm, but Minho’s fingers more than made up for it. “You look so pretty.”

It was silent for a beat, until Minho chuckled. “Aren’t they pretty? Fuckin’ gorgeous, makes my dick so hard it hurts.”

“M-Min,” You whimpered, trying to focus on his body next to you. His fingers were slipping around on your bundle of nerves with how wet you were, but it did the job. “‘M gonna cum. Can I suck you, Min, please-“

“No. Focus on cumming on his cock.”

“God, if it gets much tighter I’ll cum,” Jeongin keened, his head dropping to your neck. You let your fingers run through his sweaty strands, kissing his cheek affectionately.

“Cum with me, Innie? I’m about to cum, you can let go,” You began, speaking through stuttered breaths. Jeongin’s hips hit a particularly hard thrust inside of you, and you almost screamed. “You can- oh, oh, I’m there, oh!-“

Jeongin groaned, eyes focused on you as he watched you squirm through your orgasm. You could feel the wetness gush from your core, soaking his cock until it was drenching the hair at the base. You wanted to lick it clean, but you couldn’t focus on anything else - because he was cumming inside of you. Hot wetness flooded into your core, gushing out to mix with your own and all you could do was keep yourself pliant and take it. His dick slid out of you with the wetness, your pussy clenching at the loss.

“Shit,” Your chest heaved, blinking over at Minho next to you. He rewarded you with a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue swiping over yours. You moaned against his lips, hand moving to grab his neck and pull him tighter to you.

“Um, Y/N?” You pulled away, looking at Jeongin when he spoke. “I don’t know how, but… It's still hard. Can we-“

“You’re fucking the biggest slut I’ve ever met, Jeongin. Of course they’ll want to go again,” Minho mused, and you nodded, smiling. “Flip onto your front. Show him how deep it can go.”

You obliged, flipping onto your tummy and arching your back for Jeongin to slip back inside. The slide was wet, noises chiming around the room with the sound of yours and Jeongin’s cum mixed together. It was so dirty, and it had you whining into the pillow, reaching over to grab Minho’s hand.

“Please, please, Min-“

“I’m not fucking telling you again,” Minho grunted, his hand tight around the tip of his cock. You licked your lips, fixated on it. “Stop being so greedy. You already have a cock inside of you.”

You swore you could hear Jeongin chuckle, and then he was groaning. His large hands splayed across your ass, bringing you back onto his thrusts and you couldn’t help but moan - who the fuck taught him that? You let your hips bounce back against him, skin sticking to his with how fucking wet everything was. His thrusts increased in pace, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your head was spinning and your heart was racing as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to cumming around his cock for the second time. You felt Jeongin's grip tighten on your hips, and you knew he was close too as you felt his thrusts grow more urgent.

“Minho,” You whined, looking over at him. He scoffed, and then he was moving, sitting in front of you with his cock in your face. He’d given in - you let yourself smile at the success, and then you were running your tongue over his balls, moaning. You engulfed his cockhead with your mouth and Minho’s hips bucked, his hand going to the back of your head with a groan.

“Look so pretty with a cock in your mouth,” Jeongin mused, his hands gripping your asscheeks. His balls slapped against your clit with a filthy wet noise, making you clench and suckle on Minho’s cock just a little more. “Can’t wait to fill you up again. God, you really are a slut, aren’t you? Do you want my cum again?”

“Jesus, Jeongin,” Minho chuckled, but his voice was strained. You giggled, dipping your tongue into Minho’s slit. “He’s a fuckin’ animal. I knew it. Smack her ass a bit, Innie.”

You squealed around Minho’s length when Jeongin raised one large hand to smack down on your ass, the flesh rippling. You bucked your hips back more, asking for another hit, and he obliged. His cock was so hard inside you and the slaps were heavy, painful on your smarting skin, and you loved it.

You didn’t think you could handle it much longer. Minho was so beautiful above you, his feline eyes narrowed and plush lips kiss-bitten as he stared down at you sucking his cock. His chest was covered in a blotchy red rash, showing his pleasure, and you let your jaw go slack.

“G’na fuck your mouth as you cum,” Minho groaned, and you don’t think you’d ever seen him this stuttery and horny in the whole time you’d been fucking him. He was falling apart. You hummed around his length, and he used your head to bob your mouth up and down on his cock. Being treated like a fuckdoll, spitroasted by your boyfriend and his friend was enough to have you clenching down tight on Jeongin again. Minho grinned at your facial expression, your eyes rolled back, tightening his fingers in your hair. “They’re gonna cum again, Jeongin.”

“Fuck. Yeah? You gonna cum again?” Jeongin asked, his cock repeatedly ramming into your g-spot. You didn’t even think he knew he was doing it, but you wailed in response nonetheless. “C’mon, flood my cock again. It felt so fucking good last time.”

You were done for. Your pussy clenched around Jeongin once more, walls fluttering as you let yourself go into your orgasm. Jeongin rewarded you with another smack to your ass, and the sensation had you cumming even longer - had it been a minute? An hour? You honestly weren’t sure, but it felt so fucking good you couldn’t find it in you to care. Minho grunted, and then he was holding your head down and spilling hot white warmth into your mouth. You swallowed it down dutifully, licking your lips, and then you were being flipped over again.

“Kiss me,” Jeongin urged, his hand pushing your thigh up again to fuck you deep. He was a quick learner. You grabbed him by his neck, letting your tongue lick over his. You knew he could taste Minho. That’s why he’d asked you to kiss him. Your pussy was sensitive now, after two orgasms, but you let him fuck you senseless nonetheless. Jeongin moaned, his lips barely brushing against yours in the exchange of spit and you could feel him getting close, his dick twitching in pleasure inside of you. You let go of his neck and grabbed his ass, pushing him in to cum even deeper than the first time.

He positively wailed as he came for the second time, his head dropping to the crook of your neck again. His body was squirming, twitching through his high, and he was gripping your hips way more than was comfortable - you knew you’d have bruises tomorrow, but it was worth it.

Once he’d filled you up, Jeongin dropped to your other side, chest heaving.

“Good first time?” Minho questioned, a smile on his face. Jeongin huffed, slinging one arm around your waist and laying his head on your shoulder. You accepted the cuddle, even more so when Minho sidled up to your other side.

“Good is an understatement,” Jeongin responded. His breath was so close you could feel it tickling your neck, and you giggled. “I’m still pissed off that I wasn't invited to the orgy.”

You hummed. “There’s always next time.”

Jeongin perked up at that, his smile wide. “You mean… you’re not planning on stopping even after having us all?”

Minho chuckled, kicking you playfully. “I don’t think they could stop even if they wanted to. My baby’s a whore.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

“You better not be planning on keeping that pussy all to yourself, Minho,” Jisung grumbled. He was shoving forkfuls of cereal into his mouth, and you had strong deja vu. You’d definitely been here before.

“I couldn’t even if I tried, Sungie,” Minho responded, pressing a kiss to your lips. You wiggled with glee from your position on his lap, and he chuckled. “I’m not planning on it, anyway.”

“Great,” Felix responded, elbowing your side softly. “I didn’t get my turn alone. People had to interfere.”

Seungmin scoffed. “You were touching each other up in the living room. Did you really expect us to turn a blind eye?”

“I suppose it’s better than a car,” Chan mused. You almost choked on your cereal, Minho patting your back soothingly. You heard Changbin mutter something along the lines of ‘or a gym’.

“I’m so proud of you,” He murmured into your ear. You smirked.

“I don’t think that’s something a normal boyfriend should be proud of, Min.”

“Yeah, well - we were never meant to have a normal relationship, were we? Remember, this all started from you saying you desperately wanted to fuck me.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Jisung giggled, beaming over at you both. “I still think that’s the best thing I’ve ever done. Look where it got us all.”

You hummed. You supposed you did have Jisung to thank for all of this - and your hot bitch summer had ended brilliantly, with a boyfriend you were borderline in love with even after fucking all of his frat brothers.

It couldn’t be any better for you at this point.

1K notes · View notes

crypticminx · 4 months

Note

Hi! I loved ur telling Felix if pregnant fic so could we get a p2? Maby e Felix helping reader a morning sickness. Just fluffy ❤❤

Hi my angel!!! here you go! Xoxo

Pregnancy with Felix ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

AN: part two to my headcanons, very fluffy xoxo

- Felix would grow to be exceedingly close and overbearing of you at all times–all within good reason, of course. You felt incredibly tired? No problem, his usual disorganized bed would be neatly prepped and cozy for you with a cup of tea waiting on his night side table. Morning sickness? He was behind you as you would throw up all of your unpleasant remains from the previous night, holding back your silky hair while he gently circled his palm along your sore arched back in soothing motions

- Felix would favor sleeping in with you even if that foolishly resulted in the ignorant academic missing his first morning class, but you were immensely important to him in comparison to his repetitive lectures. He’d wrap you deeply into his chest, entangling both of your legs and arms to construct some sort of warmth from each of your bare bodies. When you’d finally close your eyes to try and regain your interrupted rest, Felix would slide his hand down to just below your ribs and on your abdomen. Though you were barely showing, he could already feel some sort of connection to what was inside of you and it made him feel affectionately sympathetic. Most of all, it made him cherish you even more and from that moment onward, he was destined to continue to treat you in a way that differentiated him from any other sort of love you had ever received.

- It would be too soon for the two of you to move into Saltburn, a manageable idea Felix came up with on a whim upon the two of you trying to discuss the reality of your soon to be future that included a baby. Felix, who terribly wished he could stay with you to attend to your doting needs at every passing hour of each day, still had his classes to attend. You would carefully decide not to continue any further studies, withdrawing yourself from all your classes. Much to your angry parents dismay as they harshly yelled at you once the whole truth unraveled from your apologetic mouth through the lines of a telephone in an empty hallway. They were far away, convenient enough for you, but hearing their harsh tones of pure disappointment made you mentally feel like you had been hit by a bus; paralyzed with sadness among all your other unwanted hormones. Felix, seeing you shamefully walk back into his room was to the rescue as he tried his best to reassure you. There was nothing more he despised than seeing your pretty little eyes swell with tears that were caused from people who should've been supporting you.

- “Y/n, darling, look at me” he would softly cup your flushed, tear-stained cheeks, “I could pay for your education whenever you'd want me to, y’know?” You only nodded at him, sniffling as you felt yourself trying to keep it together. “In fact,” his dark eyes scanned the room before their full attention was back on you, “what do you say we go get a place together, yeah?”

- Felix was soon to follow in sharing the news with his parents and judging by the huge grin he sported on his gorgeous face after hanging up on the telephone, you knew that their reaction was eons away in contrast to how your folks retaliated. And with everything finally being put into motion, a flat just on the outskirts of where campus was located was hastily granted and approved to you and Felix. “Mum was practically screaming with joy,” Felix admitted as he ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head in the process while his mind painted the image of his mother beaming with delight at the thought of a Catton grandchild.

- You imagined your flat to be cute, cozy and fitting, but this was Felix Catton we were talking about. Opening the doors after receiving the keys to your shared place, you were stunned at how breathtakingly modern and posh the interior was. A large living room accompanied with what seemed to be an extraordinarily comfortable sofa, marble stained countertops in a kitchen that was larger than your previous dorm room all topped together with 4 exquisite bedrooms. It was a strange feeling, not unsettling, but very downright gracious as you could see everything playing out as if it were a movie. Candles would be lit on the dining table, the mouth watering smell of dinner you just prepared would be flowing in the air, and there would be an eager infant placed on your hip waiting to be fed. As you’re about to feed your young, Felix would walk in, looking exhausted from a tiresome day, but happy to see the two most important people in his life.

- “So?” he would interrupt your thoughts as he could see you relishing the moment. “I love it,” you would breathlessly vow before Felix could only respond by lifting you off of your feet and cautiously twirling you around the hardwood floors of your flat.

- As the months would slowly start to progress and evolve into life with Felix, you felt at ease for once and being able to have time granted to you allowed you to focus on yourself and your pregnancy, making everything less complicated. You could take any given moment to rest and let your body prepare itself for your child. Felix would do everything in his strong willed nature to find the best doctors for you, being in attendance for every appointment with you, and always kept himself in line for having access to all of your desires.

- Changes–lots and lots of changes. Watching your stomach slowly swell outwards was fascinating and you had accompanied a new profound sense of gratefulness for yourself. Most of the girls your age would probably die if they had to say goodbye to their wardrobe of short skirts and tube tops, but that didn't matter to you anymore, what did was your baby. Felix, on the other hand, was constantly in a state of awe whenever he was around you. His protective hands were always placed on your bump, caressing it with the utmost care possible, all while extensively praising you. “So so beautiful seeing you like this, my darling,” he'd gently whisper in your ear as you laid on top of his lean body, enjoying the spell he'd put you under that was his touch. “Carrying my baby,” he hushed, kissing the top of your head, his fingers unable to stop themselves from stroking one of your sensitive breasts. “You're only going to get more beautiful.”

- With all the happiness, there were also many challenges that you faced. Feeling extremely emotional more days than others, it was mainly the rare moments that Felix wasn't home or around to embrace you with his devoted presence that made you feel like you were missing out on a chunk of events that you should've been at. Felix rushing in after a late lecture that took more of his daunting time than it should have, he swung by you, only giving you a quick pat of a kiss on your forehead, before he rummaged his tote bag of schoolwork away on an empty counter. “You're in a rush,” you observed as he changed his button down into something that seemed far more relaxed and calm. “Uh yeah,” he hurriedly spat, focussing more on fixing himself up, “Oliver and I were gonna head to the pub with a few of the guys, celebratory post midterm drinks and all that.'' Oh, you tried your hardest not to sound letdown by the fact that you would probably spend the majority of the night alone on the sofa continuing to read a catalog you had zero interest in. Felix wanted to hurdle himself to the front door, but feeling tension in the air that was so strong he could cut it with a knife, he paused and glanced at your face that was slowly becoming struck with sorrow. In response, he slowly padded his feet towards you. “What's wrong?” His tone was relaxed and not full of distraction. You sighed, feeling guilty for stopping him in his tracks, “I just feel like I've been missing out on everything,” you found your mind speaking out loud, too late in stopping yourself from speaking the truth. “I miss going out with you, being carefree and reckless,” you pouted, feeling like a fussy child. “Oh, sweetheart,” he took a seat beside you, “I can assure you’re not missing anything, in fact, I'd rather be with you all the time.” it was true, Felix didn't care for his past ways, he was more occupied in his life with you and he'd never trade that for any sleazy party. He rested a loving hand on your stomach, “this is far more important to me.”

- Felix’s favorite pastime hobby with you would be picking out names for your little one. Dressed in nothing but cozy knee high socks and an oversized T-shirt, courtesy of Felix, you would lay a journal just above your bump as your attentive ears would listen to all the ideas sprouting from Felix, smiling as his quick mind came up with more suggestions. “Genevieve for a girl?” he gave you a weary smile, not feeling too confident. “It's beautiful, but too posh and old, no? He chuckled, “mum would have a field day with that one,” he exaggerated his expression, raising his pierced eyebrow before rolling his smitten eyes. “So that's a no, I presume,” you giggled as you crossed it out with your pen.

- Your shared moments that were filled with ambience of love were your favorite times. Soaking every ounce of alone time you could get with Felix because before you knew it, the simple times would turn into long sleepless nights—and not the ones you favored the most with him. Felix would run a bath filled with relaxing salts for you to lay in as he would wash your locks and all parts of your body for you, letting his hands do the work as your head would tilt back in ease, letting all your soreness peacefully exit. The moments spent in bed mainly included Felix resting his head on your bump, freely talking to your child as his voice carried you to sleep. “I love you and your mum so much,” he kissed your bare skin with his soft lips, hoping not to stir you out of sleep, “daddy cannot wait to meet you.”

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #jacob elordi #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #oliver quick #jacob elordi x reader #dad! felix catton #Felix Catton x pregnant reader

1K notes · View notes

sunboki · 2 months

Text

— KEEP IT BUSINESS. a Lee Minho fiction

Lee Minho x f. reader

TROPE. best friends to lovers, coworkers! au, first kiss? au (hehe), domestic/soft minho, fluff

WARNINGS. cursing, making-out, inexperienced kissing, annoying coworkers

WORD COUNT. 6.9k words

AUG'S NOTES. so glad to have finally completed this!! it’s been rotting in my drafts for weeks and i just had to write a happy ending for these two grandparents 🫶🏼

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. Life can be a mess, and with you and Minho as the only two singles in your office building, an impertinent Valentine’s day leaves no choice but to make a pact.

or alternatively :

If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.

Four years.

It’s been four years since you first met Lee Minho, working with him at the same company, becoming the best of friends. And yet, the same dread lay specially reserved for the same season.

The season of love, or, to most people, Valentine’s day.

Alarm set for 6:30AM. Work from 8:30AM to 4PM. Every day of the week, every year.

Initially, the experience was relatively enjoyable. It paid well, wasn’t too harsh on hours, and other coworkers minded their own business (at least in your case) without being a pain.

Then the loneliness set in.

It was subtle at first, a tiny pang in your heart when you returned home to a dark, cold apartment while others would be greeted by a pet, a loved one.

So when Lee Minho, a new member of the company assigned as your apprentice came along, you tend to think meeting him was, in a weird, spontaneous manner, meant to be.

And four years later, when he had grown from that apprentice-ship and became established as an employee, you still hold onto that “meant to be” philosophy.

Busied chatter fills the downstairs cafe, familiar faces alike brimming with conversation, breath coffee-stained.

Peering across the various assortment of tables, you spot him, two identical cups in each hand, wearing that bemused expression as usual.

At this point, Minho has memorized your order by heart, arriving early after his daily stop by the nearby animal shelter (whose manager knew by heart). Most morning’s you’d await a picture of the newest addition to the feline section, a photo he proudly shows off like his own trophy.

You’re genuinely surprised his residence isn’t a constantly growing cat-kingdom.

“Looking forward to it?”

Brows furrowing, you sidle to his right and dish the warm beverage into your grasp.

“Looking forward to wha— wait wait don’t say it. I want to pretend it doesn’t exist.” Hurriedly waving your hands, Minho cracks a grin.

The cursed word in question being: Valentine’s day.

You can’t say you hate it. It never did anything to you, nor did it leave you heartbroken. To put it simply, the office over the first few weeks of February was a close-resembling spinoff to Singles Inferno except, much spicier and way too inappropriate in broad daylight.

Meaning, for the past five years (four joined by Minho), merely mentioning said season of love urges impending dread and deep frowns.

“All I’m gonna say is I would not want to be a doctor over Valentines,” You wince, sipping the warm drink with a squeamish face.

Minho sighs vehemently, propping an elbow against the computer cart behind him.

“I bet you could witness more vibrators in that hospital than in an Adam and Eve,” He grumbles, watchful eyes surveying the daily crowd occupying tables and chairs in the building’s downstairs café.

Slamming a fist to your chest to correct your breathing, your eyes practically bulge from your skull, evidently caught of guard.

Leave it to Minho to make you suffocate before your shift even begins.

8am is prime time for socialization—otherwise before Mrs. Song decides to unleash her wrath on newbies. She has good intentions, sure, but let’s just say most anyone was petrified upon first meeting her.

Luckily, your department with Hyeongmi, Minho, and Felix was secluded on the far side of the building, leaving you out of the woman’s hair, free to work as you please.

Yet, Mrs. Song wasn’t the problem, not when it came down to the month of February.

Your phone’s alarm signaling to start moving momentarily wards off the thought, and either of you begin toward the elevator, flat expressions describing the sinking feeling better than words.

Back at it, again.

Because by your lunch break, you can’t fathom entering the cafeteria, not if it costs you your life.

Everywhere you look someone is making out, confessing their love, or, worst you’ve seen it all day, genuinely fucking in the bathrooms.

Perhaps you’d send Minho a text you’re making an escape by eating in the office, invite him up for some solace.

Except, it seems he had the same idea.

Scrambling through the door, you enter at the same time, heaving sighs of exasperation upon securing much needed privacy.

Making prolonged eye contact, your thoughts come spilling out.

“If I witness another make-out in the stairwell I’m ending it all.”

“Boxes of chocolates are officially ruined for me now.”

Four years and it never gets old. Same old painful memories, same old excitement for the day to come and go. And it’s not like you hate the holiday itself, you two just.. heavily dislike the immense bucketloads of PDA and office hookups that come along with it.

Not-so-gracefully flopping down onto your chairs, you practically shovel food down, gladly accepting the few rolls of gimbap Minho places onto your plate.

Customary sharing. You give him some of your food, he gives you some of his.

In those brief minutes of silence do you get the opportunity to fully comprehend your own thoughts, prior to Minho clearing his throat.

“Drinks at my place?”

Your grown loudly in agreement.

Minho : Okay, I’m leaving, follow me in thirty minutes

Glancing up, you watch your counterpart lift his brows your way and call out his departure, sifting through the doorway, cross body bag thumping against jeans.

Hyeongmi was downstairs, which, as awful as it sounded, was great not having to endure her nosiness.

This was how you stayed unbothered. He’d leave, and thirty minutes later you would too in order to (for now) avoid Mrs. Song (and Hyeongmi’s) pestering.

It couldn’t have taken the clock longer to reach 4:30PM. So by the time the beloved minute hand struck 4:29 you practically lurched from your seat, almost tasting sweet freedom before a face showed up right before you slipped through the exit.

Hyeongmi’s face.

What she’s talking about you can’t seem to understand, mind trained on escaping and escaping alone.

“C’mon now, you two are the only two in this building without a date. It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!” Hyeongmi emphasizes, dizzying your head the longer she shakes your shoulders.

“You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right? I’m telling you, it’s a sign—“

“Sorry Hyeongmi, I really have to go-“

Fastening your bag tigher across your body, you make a mad-dash as far away as possible, pretending to ignore the “use protection!” she shouted before the crisp evening breeze nipped your nose.

Use protection my butt, you grovel, ushering the scarf further above your chin as if to secure as much warmth possible.

She doesn’t know anything, not about how you took him under your wing as your apprentice the first year he joined, not about how much Minho loves cats, or how the keychain on that crossbody bag of his is a keychain you bought for him.

Simply placing it, she’s a person lead by the assumptions of others and adopting them as her own.

It irritates you.

Veering to your right, you thank his decision to house nearby, arriving at the foot of his porch after a mere ten-minute walk.

Delivering a few knocks on the townhome’s doorway, you note the paint chipping, colorful exterior worn from the sun’s rays.

Everything from the few cracks in the sidewalk to the relatively invisible stain of coffee on his doorknob lay memorized by frequency—his property second nature to you.

“Never have I hated being single this much,” You whine, slumping onto his couch after hurling your bag atop a hook in the foyer.

And despite the lack of response, you can tell Minho heard you. The faint, breathy chuckle enough evidence of his presence.

Perched on a chair he’d likely dragged from the kitchen, a feline companion occupies his lap, both comfortably relaxing on the patio, wine glass in hand.

Accordingly arranged on the countertop is another glass (you presume as yours), that you pour the vinegar-tinged substance into.

“I mean.” Slightly struggling to haul a neighboring chair to his side and simultaneously avoid splashing wine everywhere, you eventually find an equilibrium.

“It’s not like I asked to be single, I’m just too busy to consider a relationship, y’know?”

Minho absentmindedly hums, urging you to take a much-needed sip of the orchid-colored liquid.

Finally, you sigh out the last of your evening’s thoughts.

“..Hyeongmi caught me on the way out.”

Nor does this occasion need a reply either, the man’s suppressed giggle suitable enough.

“Mm.. I’ve got an idea.”

Carefully allowing the elongated glass to clink atop a translucent table, you cross and uncross your legs, welcoming the rustle of life around you into your eardrums, easing the cluttered space of your brain.

“Shoot.”

He clicks his tongue, gaze flitting to the emerging moon overhead.

“If we’re still single by twenty-five, we date each other.“

Making a surprised sound to yourself, you break into unadulterated laughter, about to call him hilarious before taking into account this is Minho you’re referring to, and the likelihood he’s joking on any matter is unlikely.

Sure it sounds cliché, but it’s Minho, why not?

…And perhaps that decision was made with a few glasses of wine in play.

“I’m in.” You grin, returning his outstretched hand by bumping your glasses before downing the remaining gulp, cheeks aglow, alcohol ridding your breath a distasteful stench.

Tipsy. Minho is charming normally, but especially when he’s tipsy.

He’s got this way of speaking that could get any unsuspecting girl reaching to unzip his pants in a second, sultry, half-lidded eyes drinking the person in front of him, talking like he has sugar lining his lips.

When Minho is tipsy, he’s tempting. You didn’t need four years to teach you that.

That, and the spare pajama set folded in his top drawer reserved solely for you on nights like this—too gone to go home.

Although, as you rise to your feet and head to the bathroom, pulling said silk pajama shirt over your head, Hyeongmi’s words reverberate again.

You do realize everyone has the hots for him but that he only hangs out with you, right?

Hm. Minho was always a recluse though. And with your history, obviously he’d have some liking for you.

It’s been four years, Y/n! You need to let loose!

Turning to stare at yourself in the mirror, you sulk, head hanging low.

What if you did something tonight? Something risky, something testing the limits this friendship borderlines. You’re both drunk, likely willing.

Then again, does Minho want this too? Did he ever intend to “let loose”?

Anxiety plagues you, hurriedly scurrying your pants over your legs and exiting to find Minho still seated in the same spot, appearing all the more tempting without having to do a thing.

You blame the alcohol.

Stamping forward as if you prepared a speech, you stop just behind his chair, mustering any ounce of liquid courage manageable.

“Minho.”

He grunts.

“You’re really pretty.”

Let loose. This is letting loose when it comes to Minho.

What, you thought you were gonna fuck? Yeah, that’s a funny one.

Winding himself around to see you, his lips wind into a sweet smile, urging you closer with a mere look before he reaches forward and taps your nose, dark eyes roaming your face.

“I’ve always thought you were pretty too.”

And perhaps, caught in a trance from his glittering stare, something did happen those four years you’ve been together after all.

You blame the alcohol.

The impulsive part about this “date at twenty-five” pact you had forgotten to consider was the fact both of you were twenty-four, meaning in less than a year whatever plan Lee Minho had stirred up after plenty glasses of wine would oil it’s gears into motion.

Thankfully Valentines comes and goes, and Summer creeps dangerously close, the longer hours of daylight and lingering sunshine enough to make every work-day feel extra laborious.

First day of summer, Minho texts you, asking if you want to join him on a walk.

Mind you, it’s 10AM in the morning, an hour you couldn’t fathom waking up at on the first day of summer.

You groan and flop back down, shutting off your phone and slamming the pillow over your head in a pitiful attempt at falling back asleep.

Only for your doorbell to ring twenty minutes later.

Over.

And over.

The urge to screech compels your barely-awake form, legs wobbling out of bed to feebly reach the doorway in a sleep-ridden haze.

Of course, lo and behold, Minho lies responsible, clad in running shoes, a pair of shorts, and a black nike zip-up.

He’s evidently pleased—whether from how disheveled you appear—or that he actually got you out of bed in the first place by the lingering smile tugging at his lips.

You hate to say it, but he’s annoyingly attractive, there’s no denying.

“Caught you at a bad time, hm?” He tips his head down to make eye-contact, peering through wild hair and lidded eyes at your half-alive self.

All you can manage out is a minuscule grunt, about to close the door before Minho jars his hand in, inviting himself inside much to your dismay.

Like instinct, he heads straight to your closet, surveying the chaos his insistent door-bell ringing caused before fetching a sweatshirt to pull over your head and a pair of socks from your drawer.

Though, as you wake up a tad bit more, you hurriedly keep him from putting your socks on for you as he bends down, shying away with an irritated whine.

“If this is what dating you is like I’m calling off the pact,” You mumble, stomping toward the door with Minho pushing you forwards without chance of escape.

He giggles, seeming to contain utmost glee witnessing your temper tantrum.

“Oh trust me sweetheart, the fun never ends.”

He’s hopeless too, apparently.

Lucky for you, your friend’s visits occurred sporadically, meaning the 10AM wake up calls weren’t a daily routine of headaches.

In contrast, summer passed by in a flash, and you were shoved head-first into a packed schedule for a second time as the autumn leaves shriveled into crisp browns and oranges.

Autumn was always welcomed. It meant the chilling cold was approaching, yes, but it also signified apple cider being added to the downstairs café menu and—on those especially chilly mornings—bundling your neck in the scarf Minho bought you last christmas.

As for him, he frequents pointed shoes and straight-legged pants, his fudge-colored hair perfectly complimented by pumpkin scented fragrances and dusky red backdrops.

Brisk mornings call for thinking. And as you walk, you come to the indefinite conclusion apple cider fits Minho. Sweet, but not saccharine. Warm to the touch, reminiscent with a charming aftertaste. A silhouette that comes and goes as it pleases, leaving soon enough for you to crave it back again.

Regarding summer, he was sort of like a beach day. A vacation in the midst of roaring deadlines, the comfortable lull of waves buzzing your mind into a hazy, salty escapade.

Although as December plucks each oak of its splendor, a call on Sunday morning truly marks the season of winter.

“..Y/n?” Minho murmurs, his voice groggy, hoarse. You make a sound of acknowledgment in response.

“I think I’m sick, can you drop off some meds at the door?”

Pressing your phone close to your ear, you debate on your desire to scold him, remind him each time he gets a winter cold he should dress warmer.

Of course, your lips stay shut (just like they always have for the past few years), and you reply with a “Be there soon, hang tight” before ending the call and gathering your belongings.

At the supermarket you check out seaweed soup, multivitamins, and allergy relief—things of which you hope will alleviate some of his symptoms.

Eternally grateful for the spare key you’d been given a while back, you enter the home, calling his name until an exasperated sign of life was heard (more like coughed) from the bedroom.

Inside lay Minho, a distressing array of tissues scattered in all directions, clustered beyond belief. His nose is soured pink from incessant stuffiness, lips cracked and dry. Dark circles sag beneath tired eyes, worn disposition evidence of his condition.

Quick on your feet, you scour the bathroom for a thermometer, the device’s loud beep signifying a blaring fever as you hover by his bedside.

Watching the bowl of instant soup spin aimless circles in the microwave, Minho’s call knocks you out of your daydream, worriedly padding to where he lays.

“Come here.”

You oblige, arriving to his right, about to ask the matter until his fingers link with your own, bringing the back of your hand to his jaw, resting there.

If you had been warm before, an entirely new definition to sweating has been reached at this point.

“You’re warm,” He whispers, rubbing his face against your hand like a needy cat wanting attention.

How unfair a human can be this round.

Practically bounding from the inside, you use the excuse of the microwave beeping to race off, hurriedly disappearing into the kitchen while remaining ignorant to the way Minho’s gaze follows you.

Returning with a soup platter meticulously carried between your tight grip, you sigh with relief upon sitting the steaming concoction down. Oh so slowly, a frown grows at your face upon noticing the expectant stare boring into your head.

“Yes?”

He juts out his bottom lip like a kicked puppy from your nonplussed tone, nudging the covers over himself till only those calculating eyes peek out.

“I’m not feeding you.”

Minho all but whimpers, and you suppress the urge to smother him with a pillow right then and there, hating how easily he sends goosebumps prickling the back of your neck, heat scalding your ears.

“No.”

“Y/n.”

You quite literally feel like the cruelest person in existence because why is he looking at you with that face, saying your name like that.

Grumbling beneath your breath, you begrudgingly collect a spoonful, bringing the utensil to his already pursed lips.

Spoonful by spoonful do you feed him as if he’s a dependent toddler, his satisfied hums earning a stern glare in return.

Only when he finishes eating do you get up, reprimanding him on taking his meds without much bite to your words.

“And don’t take too many of these, alright? If it gets really bad, call me again. Otherwise, try getting sleep.”

“Yes ma’am.”

And of course he has to be endearing.

Such a pain.

You’ll stop by tomorrow.

If Minho was the apple cider in autumn and beach days in the summer, he’s the prettiest of snowflakes in the midst of winter.

Memorable, fleeting. Melting in your touch.

The annual Christmas party the company hosts steadily approaches, your coworkers ringing your phone insistently with noticeable anticipation.

Though just like autumns chill, December soars past idly, reigning in a new year and a new digit added to twenty when asked your age.

Your winter premise only heightened the anxiety compiling in your gut, a feeling you hadn’t recognized until the following day—the first day back to work in January—dawned.

January 1st’s introduction means you’re both officially twenty-five, and you’re not sure if it’s the fact Minho hasn’t texted you yet or the valentines pact in itself setting you on edge.

What would it be like to date Minho? Would he kiss you, the same way male leads in K-dramas did? Hold you as you sleep, wish you goodbye with a kiss to your cheek?

The mere thought sends rivets of electricity blazing your fingertips, feeling like an utter fool for imagining such scenarios.

Now you’ve haunted yourself for worse, leaving only dread in tow.

Arriving at the office the first day back, you attempt at making yourself look as collected as possible, definitely not bothered.

Worse, the root of your troubles walks in unbothered as you’ve been trying to do for the past few hours, the room working in deplorable silence before a note wedges itself behind your keyboard, Minho slipping past in its wake.

It takes all your will-power to ignore the crumpled piece of paper as best as possible, your index itching to unravel whatever lay inside.

Noon is when you finally give in, lungs failing to produce air upon reading the contents, practically choking on nothing.

Come over to my place after work.

What is this, his way of declaring your pact officially in action? What if he calls it off, saying it was only a joke glasses of wine granted?

As Hyeongmi said before, everyone has the hots for him, so why don’t you? Why does the thought of him calling it off put you on edge?

Or maybe you do. Maybe you do have feelings for—

Woah. Stop there.

Luckily, your internal chess match went unnoticed, leaving only the buzzing of your ears and the ticking of the clock loud.

A certain fondness sat between either of you from the start, since becoming acquainted you’ve instantly clicked—sly remarks and playful teasing merely one more thing keeping you alive (minus coffee).

So when something crossing the border between friends and lovers arose, a sort of nervousness bubbled in your gut.

Minho was a shoulder to cry on for you, but was it like that?

You could rely and depend on each other whenever, but could those feelings ever turn into love?

Of course they could, and they likely would’ve if it weren’t for either of you being so work-oriented—making you even more worried.

Although, you can’t simply flee. You’re an adult.

..And Minho will find you in a heartbeat if you decide to run.

Never had you been hesitant to leave office until now, and trodding one foot in front of the other causes your legs to turn into jelly.

Minho probably isn’t this nervous. He’s probably in a great mood, treating the occasion like it’s just another casual day.

Never before was it difficult, whether difficult is referred to as placing a key in a doorway or walking inside, everything seems so.. eminent.

Like when you walk through this door, an entirely new side of Minho will show face. A romantic side of Minho.

Yet, there’s no rose petals lining the hallway, nor scented candles scattered here and there.

What is there to expect with dating in your twenties anyway?

Plus, Minho’s well, Minho. If he wanted to, he likely would’ve flat-out asked already.

Something you’re surprised about, however, is the triangular string decor swooping from the ceiling, the party hats by the sink, a single birthday candle placed in the center of a cupcake. Simple, perfect.

Although, the perfect factor came with the man responsible, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, bracing himself on the countertop with a particular glow in his irises—whether it be from the lit candle you aren’t sure—that sets your stomach into a garden of butterflies.

A surprise party. He threw you a surprise birthday party.

And it’s then as enter the kitchen, brain barely recognizing each advance forward, you realize it.

You really, really want to date him.

And you really, really don’t want to screw this up.

Staring at each other, you rise up on your toes to place a careful, feather-light peck on the smooth, flushed skin of his cheek.

Slowly, he turns his head, a conniving smirk revealing the outline of his teeth whilst investigating your breathlessness.

“Someone’s daring,” He mumured, cocking a brow amusedly.

You poke his side, groaning that he shouldn’t look too far into it before he nudges you, your frown returned with a subtle nod—directed at the forgotten cupcake.

“Well you already gave me a kiss, so wish for something else.”

“Choke,” You respond, but there’s still no bite to it. Some things never change.

Minho gently holds your hair back for you, allowing you to lean over and blow out the candle. No bite.

Your wish?

Let Minho and I go well. I like us.

Every bit of it was the truth.

Hopefully this wish of yours can come true.

Maybe.

Seated on the living room floor do you finally relax, your shoulders slumping down after hours of monstrous tension. Seems you’d forgotten he was your best friend before anything else.

“So.. how does this work?”

‘Work’ as in, the dating deadline’s here, what’s next?

He purses his lips—a habit of his—blinking rapidly.

“Like friends? Except we get the kissing and sex pass in between, right?”

You smack his shoulder. He smiles, childishly extending his pinky out to you.

Linking yours, you press the pad of your thumb against his. An unspoken gesture.

“Together?”

Through thick and thin. Your way, as it always was, always had been.

He has stars in his tawny-globes for eyes.

“Together.”

Minho’s hands are warm in the midst of frigid temperatures.

Spring isn’t too far off, but the bitter winds remain ceaseless and unrelenting, whipping your hair every which way, scattering a plethora of goosebumps along your skin.

Never had you held hands like this with someone before, nonetheless Minho, and yet, a connection lies inside the initial awkwardness. The silent assurance, whether it’s his thumb smoothing your palm or occasional squeezes, telling you he understands, that you’re not alone, or how he patiently waited by the door the entire time you were getting ready, claiming he didn’t want to dirty your place with his shoes.

It’s sort of revitalizing. Curious and inquisitive in his lingering touches, additional notes—reminders on your coffee cup, questions asking whether you want to stay over afterward, if he can give you a kiss on the cheek.

One in particular you recall:

I miss you. Scribbled in bleeding ink.

Your introduction as lovers had been a field day of trials and questions for the two of you, though when it came down to the public’s knowledge, you began debating on the “curiosity killed the cat” theory.

This morning, catching a glimpse of the company’s logo in the distance, you assign yourself as the cat. Too interested, now suffering the consequences.

Granted, you wouldn’t take back moving to relationship status, but it was a lot easier to brush off comments if you were Minho.

Hyeongmi being the main one responsible for said comments.

Morning passed by seamlessly, prioritizing work above all else, too busy typing away to for any interruptions.

..Until a midday conference.

Seated right next to each other, his fingers slowly thread with yours beneath the table, sending the man a perplexed (and slightly nervous) expression in response.

More so, the comforting casualness caused you to barely recognize Mrs. Song reaching below to fetch her fallen pen, a gasp of surprise stilling the conversation at her realization.

“Are you- Are you two holding—?”

Panicked, you smack his hand away, stomach plummeting.

Not expecting him to stubbornly grab your hand again, a miniature frown draws across his perfectly rose lips.

Pouting.

Lee Minho is pouting because you’re not letting him hold your hand.

Unbelievable.

If the situation could escalate further, the she-devil herself (Hyeongmi) throws her head down to spare a glimpse, allowing you to fully accept your demise. A demise that, one way or another, needed to happen.

This was simply an early death.

“You’re kidding! No way you guys are a thing?” The eccentric girl mouths the last words, eyebrows drawn to her hairline.

And just like that, your relationship with Minho ventured out of your pocket and into a brand new wilderness.

“So…what’s it like living everybody’s dream?”

Headed to the bathroom, Hyeongmi stops you, leaned over the mirror, carefully inspecting her plum-colored lipstick.

“What?” You pique, confusedly glancing between her and the empty stall you’re trying to nonchalantly slip into.

“I mean, the entire company’s talking about it. Tell me, are you guys actually official? Or is this all just for the attention? No offense, but-“

“I...”

Want to punch you in the face.

You keep it to yourself.

“I’m gonna go.”

Synonymously, both your bladder and your appetite completely disappeared.

Although, she doesn’t leave you alone.

You’re frantically searching for excuse after excuse, speed-walking and taking the stairs any chance available.

Unfortunately for you, she’s everywhere. At some point you’re certain a tracking device is hidden somewhere on your clothes.

Almost there. From silently pleading help with your eyes to legitimately hiding in your workplace, today couldn’t have been more of a joke.

Or so you thought.

“Y/n?”

“Yes, Hyeongmi?”

“With Minho,” She nervously fiddles with her earrings. “You don’t have to tell me but.. how’s the bedroom?”

Apparently, it can go lower.

Before you can respond to her shamelessness, a grip fastens on your shoulders, cologne distinct enough you can tell exactly who it is.

Your beach day.

“Hyeongmi, you do realize that’s rude, yeah? Let’s not cross boundaries we shouldn’t cross, got it?”

All the while Minho smiles, this cloying, “I dare you” sort of attitude no one can argue with.

Averting her attention, she speedily raises up, humorlessly laughing off the tension while excusing herself from the room.

“You okay?” He whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, pressing a chaste kiss there.

Yeah, there’s no getting used to this.

“Yep,” You say, though there isn’t much sincerity it.

He knows.

“Wait for me here, let’s walk home together.”

Ah. You want to kiss him.

“Minho.”

He turns on his heel.

Kiss me.

You’re holding his collar now, the option on the tip of your tongue, his lips a hairbreadth from yours.

Close, closer.

No. Not yet.

Either way, what do you know about kissing? What if you screw up?

Not yet.

“..Okay.”

Your gaze flits down to his lips if only for a second. A small, cheeky grin adorning his face as he follows your movements.

It’s hard to focus when he leaves, because all you can think about is the possibilities. What if you had kissed him? Would he have kissed you back?

By the way looked at you, the logical response would be: yes. Most people don’t stare at someone like that without the intent to kiss them, right?

Though somehow, you can’t help but feel unprepared, a complete novice in this battlefield of love.

Where Minho took you afterward was a mystery, merely happy to be away from the confines of your desk—letting his eager hand guide you wherever he pleased.

Shielded beneath the shade of two trees, your destination, Yeouido Park, is a spectacle during the transition period of winter to spring. You’d oftentimes spend hours here, basking in the relief a break grants. A spectacle where you two first truly met.

“Alright, be honest with me.”

He spins you around till you’re face to face, carefully analyzing your facial expression.

“Are you really okay? After Hyeongmi said that, I couldn’t stop thinking..”

Oh. That careful crease in his eyebrows, sympathetic.

He’s breaking your heart.

You realize now why everyone falls in love with him.

“Of me?”

The words come out involuntarily, a step forward in the newness, paving light through the darkened abyss.

“Yeah..” He says, a little winded while doing so.

Minho cares, he always had, yet, it’s your first time hearing it aloud.

“Y/n.”

Blinking yourself back into reality, your face grows warm, not intending to deliberately space out right in front of him.

He leans forward, causing you to shrink back into your skin as a kiss is planted right atop your nose, the man wearing a satisfied grin.

“Hey- You can’t- It’s not Valentines yet—“

“And why would I wait until Valentine’s day?”

Another deeper red burns your cheeks, and you scorn the way he gets under your skin—a way that makes every insult dissolve like powder on your tongue.

He notices, but decides not to prod further, lightly bumping your hip with his own as a signal to follow.

“Tomorrow is the day, y’know,” You mumble, kicking rocks with the tip of your shoe.

“Are we gonna turn into those couples?” He asks, pretentiously puckering his lips, eyes squinted shut.

You burst out laughing.

“I would break up with you first, sorry Minho.” Said puckered lips transform into a playful scowl.

“What? No treat for valentines?”

Blinking babydoll eyes up at you, you wrinkle your nose, coming to recognize what “treat” he was implying.

Earlier you would’ve kissed instantly, but an inkling of stubbornness kept you from giving into him this time.

Sneaking behind you, he ducks down, voice low enough for only your ears to hear.

“Didn’t seem you were too against it earlier.”

And with that, he races off, entirely too happy with himself and not likely to live down your reaction. Because you can’t disagree.

Since when were Lee Minho’s lips so kissable?

Knock.

Your attention strays from the mirror at the sound, wondering if it was simply a figment of your imagination only for the sound to ensue.

Knock. Knock.

Who would be at your door at this hour in the middle of the week?

There’s a name on your tongue, but you don’t contemplate any longer, tiptoeing to the doorway to peer through the peephole.

And the sight before you makes every ounce of suspicion worthwhile.

Minho, holding a bouquet of roses and things unknown behind his back, is reciting.

He’s staring at his shoes, bouncing back and forth on his heels nervously.

Lee Minho is nervous.

Wanting just to stand there and watch him rehearse, you finally give in after a third knock scares you out of your wits—hesitantly opening the door and trying to placate the most surprised expression possible.

His eyes round as saucers, you literally watch the gears in his head turn in real time, extending the flowers out to you.

“Happy valentines. These are uh, for you.”

And his ears are red.

You’re going to implode from how cute this is.

Attempting to stave down the alarming amount of happiness you’re experiencing, you hold the flowers in one hand, awaiting whatever lie behind his back.

Although, as the outline of a box of chocolates appears, so does… a shampoo bottle.

What.

Bathing in a long silence, you can’t help but wonder you’re genuinely hallucinating. Glancing from his face to the literal shampoo in hand, he mirrors you, confused for a reason you’re trying to figure out as well.

“Is that… a shampoo bottle?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you were running low the last time I came here.”

…

You’ve never received a valentine before, but this automatically took the cake.

Is it possible to fall in love after you’re given a shampoo bottle as a gift on valentines? Apparently so.

Nonetheless, work flashed past, barely able to register a thing between the many congratulations you received and the absence of Hyeongmi (assumed to be due to the brown-haired charmer beside you).

For now, you savor the freedom of the day, finally able to escape the pains of before and wallow in a new kind of excitement. Love.

Love delivered by Minho himself in the form of mini scraps he’s folded into hearts, slipping heart after heart onto your desk at any opportunity to the point you bump his leg beneath the table in warning.

He cheekily smirks in return, stupidly innocent face scheming with malice.

He’s getting an absolute kick out of this, and you hate to admit you enjoy it just as much.

As usual, you wait behind for him to catch up on your daily commute home—an activity you did long before any romantic feelings became involved.

That’s it. Minho’s pinpoint of romance.

Shampoo bottle, walks home, extra coffee, notes.

Minho doesn’t openly express his love, not unless he feels either adventurous or obligated. Instead, he studies. Your habits, the things you enjoy, your actions, preferences. That particular coffee order you liked, how you had ran out of shampoo.

Oh how you love him.

Though, rounding the sidewalk to your place, Minho grabs ahold of your wrist. In response, as soon as you turn your head, you’re mere centimeters from his face, simply standing there, proximity willing either of you not to move.

Initial words dying out, he slightly edges to the side, cocked in a way that has your mind racing.

Nose, cheek, but never lips.

No.

Your hands act before any other part of you, blocking his lips from yours.

“We-“

The look he’s giving you, shock.

You feel a hundred degrees hotter.

“We need to go inside,” You excuse yourself fast, the man tailing behind, grip still loosely attached to your wrist.

Quickly shutting the door behind you, it’s an immediate embarrassment flooding your frame that allows you to speak, words bursting outward in an uncontrollable cacophony.

“Minho I’m so sorry I have no idea what I was doing, I shouldn’t have done that, it was a stupid idea. I didn’t mean to offend you or anything-“

“Hey, slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”

His tone serves as the much needed breeze fanning your face, cooling you down enough to articulate sentences properly.

“I’m sorry, we’ve just never kissed on the lips and I feel like I’m gonna be horrible and kill the mood. This is stupid, I know, just.. bear with me please?”

His eyebrows furrow, forming together the equation piece by piece.

“You’ve.. You’ve never had your first kis—?”

You hush him furiously, slumping onto the couch dejectedly.

Yet, Minho doesn’t laugh nor pick fun regardless of how hilariously idiotic the occasion is. He’s quiet, concerned almost.

You add that to your long list of things you love about him.

Inhaling gradually, your focus flits to the window, collecting yourself, easing the frantic rush-hour traffic rampaging in your skull.

If you were one of those paper hearts he made, he’s pulling apart each careful fold in this very moment. Unraveling the layers till your bare self is exposed in all its anxiousness.

“I hate it. It feels like a part of that teenage youth everyone talks about is something I’ll never get to experience. I was too busy caring about school, and now I feel like I’ve missed out.”

Soaking in a quietness, you jump when he places a hand over yours, softly tracing the skin of your knuckles, glossy as he watches, carving each perfect aspect of you into memory.

“Well you may not be seventeen, but you’re never too old to learn to kiss.”

One hand cupping your jaw to garner your attention, you’re met with a glass-like visage.

Gentle.

“And I can teach you how.”

It’s always been business, you’ve always been business. Which is why, now confronting what feels to be the highest peak in your love life, you’re left a completely blank canvas. No rules, no instructions.

It’s terrifying.

“Min- Minho, I really haven’t done this before.”

You hastily pique, scooting backward in the cushions.

Curse the shakiness of your voice.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me. We won’t.”

You quickly shake your head.

No, you want this, you’ve wanted this too badly to back out now.

“Then let’s take it slow, okay?”

It’s horrifically awkward at first, a tiny peck, then a bit longer till your arms creep over his shoulders, his fingers once holding your jaw steady now resting on your neck.

Best word to describe it? Messy.

“Breathe through your nose.”

“Minho— I’m suffocating here—“

You sputter back, quite literally heaving for breath.

Yes, it was otherworldly kissing him, and he was an insanely good kisser, but did this really require your lungs to practically burst?

“Are you teaching me how to give a blowjob or kiss?”

His smile transforms mischievously, a sneering laugh slipping past. You already know he’ll make a sly comment.

Minho winks. “We’ll get to that later.”

“I lost my urge to date you. Bye.”

“Noooo Y/n~” He whines profusely, warm hold on your waist beckoning another kiss filled with hushed giggles and incessant jeers from either party—ensuing a halfway unbuttoned shirt and quite possibly the most greedy ten minutes known to man.

Out of breath, he pulls back from your stomach, the ticklish feather-light kisses planted there earning a stifled giggle from you while he blinks upward, seeming to be focused on something.

“Minho?” You question, ignorant to how unbelievably obsessed with you he is, more than ever in this moment.

From your damp, sweaty skin to the few hairs stuck to your forehead. Your swollen lips, the way you laugh, your stomach dipping with the action. He doubts he’ll ever get tired of this.

Reaching forward as if caught in a trance, he tenderly tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, voice barely audible upon pressing his forehead against yours.

And in the seclusion of your living room, tangled up together on the sofa, it’s just the two of you existing in this world.

“I hope you know I really meant it when I said I thought you were pretty too.”

Ah. He remembers. All that time ago.

Of course he does.

Kissing you for a time you can’t remember, you begin to wonder if that birthday wish of yours had came true after all.

Your feelings for Minho had always existed somewhere inside of you. Your head, your heart. A tiny inkling into something more, a could be. Two individuals wishing, waiting to make a move.

It seems the Valentines Pact sealed the deal.

FIC TAGLIST. @gimmeurtmi @jisuperboard @porang-poranglinos @palindrome969 @stayceebs97 @inniescandy-01 @idklin0

768 notes · View notes

sincerelyverena · 3 months

Text

⟡⁺ PUPPY PRINCESS

. . . OLIVER QUICK X FELIX CATTON X FEM!READER ‘you know me as your boyfriend's goofy friend.’ @watercolorskyy

inbox is always open to requests!

in whichꕀ

✦ ﹒as felix's girlfriend, you've never had a longing for anyone else. except oliver. you bring up the idea of the two of you fucking the meeker male, and surprisingly, felix complies.

tagsꕀ

✦ ﹒smut ﹐threesome ﹐sub!oliver ﹐dom!felix ﹐reader and felix are an established pairing ﹐reader is a freak﹐reader treating oliver like the princess he is ﹐mainly focused on reader and oliver﹐felix is the core of the pairing ﹐mutual pining ﹐public sex﹐pussy worship ﹐tongue-fucking ﹐anal ﹐pet names ﹐implied aftercare

THANK YOU TO MY WONDERFUL BETA READERS: @sparklehani ﹐@vikwrites

Oliver Quick. Your kryptonite.

Feeble Oliver from Oxford, who would’ve guessed? Over the fragile rim of the porcelain tea cup pressed to your lips, you scrutinized an oblivious Oliver. A particular aura radiated off of him, a glow you had never encountered from your brief acquaintance on campus.

Was it attractive? Immensely.

You adverted your attention off Oliver as a skyscraper-remanent individual bounded through the doorway. A chorus of greetings rose in the air at the sight of Felix Catton, the contagious energy you esteem to be your boyfriend of six months. The manicured length of your nails tapped along your fragile teacup as Felix made a beeline straight to the vacant seat beside you.

“I told you to go easy with the wine, Fi.” You scolded him playfully, reaching upward to draw your thumbs across the thin, darkened areas illustrating Felix’s under-eyes.

The molten brown of Felix’s eyes twinkle mischievously. “I drank it like any other bottle of alcohol you offered me.”

You inclined your head upwards, heart giving an absentminded flutter as you felt the warmth of his lips encaptured your own. It was more of a peck, rather than a kiss but the searing heat you reciprocated was a welcoming sensation nevertheless.

“Wine makes you sleepy though.”

Felix responded with a joking grumble and a hand to the inner mound of your thigh. The corners of your lips quirk up endearingly.

As you drew your attention to the lukewarm cup of tea perched before you, you caught sight of Oliver. More specifically, how the coolness of his ocean-dripping eyes bored into you. The fashion in which the thick lashes lined his eyes, which fluttered innocently. How the aquamarine speckles of his hues flickered towards Felix, who rubbed absentminded circles into the base of your thigh. A heat circulated in his surveying gaze, a heat that directly arrowed toward your abdomen. Pooling, molten warmth that dripped down the sleight of your back and ran under your skin.

The edge of your tongue flickers over your suddenly dry lips. All you can think about. All you can even render is the idea of Felix’s girth straining against Oliver’s heat. His best friend’s head smuggled between your thighs.

The scandalous nature of these images protrudes your thoughts for the rest of the day. The heat that resulted followed you to the point where you were aware of how your arousal soaked a patch through your thong.

As the hours ticked by, the horizon continuously darkened. Ridding the atmosphere from the rays of sun illuminance. The sky is painted in a fluid darkness. Stars scattered the canvas of twilight, an immense contrast against the crystal-clear waters of the estate rivers. Shadows chased each other across Saltburn, like spirits, discovered in every untouched crook and crevice. The ideal scenery for the night swim Felix had prompted you and the three others into.

Farleigh and Venetia had made an early exit a few minutes prior, tired eyes proclaiming a desire for their beds. This left you and Felix, the two of you sprawled upon inclined lounges by one of the various lakes tucked into the estate yards. Oliver, on the other hand, drifts across the deep, clear waters that rippled around his physique. Revealing a stomach that caused the ache haunting the space between your thighs to intensify in nature.

Your horny, dazed nature had returned.

“You’re thinking hard right now, aren’t you?” Felix prompted, a soft tinge prominent in his tone. His head inclined, and the roundness of his eyes bored immensely into you. Served as a signal that he had been watching you for some time.

You lolled your head back against the lounge chair behind you. Your gaze had prominently latched onto every singular droplet of water that rolled off of the muscles that rippled throughout Oliver’s silhouette.

Your next words escaped you bluntly. “I want us to fuck him.”

“Never knew you were interested in Oliver like that.”

“I have no damn clue what happened to him since Oxford but…”

You didn’t have to complete your sentence as you sucked in a sharp breath, finally tearing your eyes away from him completely to meet the darkness of Felix’s gaze.

“Whatever makes my princess happy.” Felix complied without missing a beat.

Felix was brisk to inch towards you, leaning over the slight bridge of a gap between the both of you. The lushness of his lips met the crevice of your neck, burying himself into you. Drowning him in the fragrance that practically dripped off of you. The soft motions of his lips intensified the roar of want dripping from your womanhood. You choked back a strangled gasp as the long frame of Felix’s fingers slipped underneath the scarce fabric of your bikini bottoms. Digits rolling to explore the gushing wetness that circulated between your folds.

“Ollie!” Felix's voice rang over his shoulder, blissfully ignorant to the fashion in which you buckled upwards for a hitch of friction.

In the hue of his loudness, Oliver’s head popped upwards from his current floating state. If you weren’t overwhelmed by the heat that sparked from each skim of Felix’s fingers, you’d let out a good-hearted chuckle at how wide-eyed Oliver looked at this moment.

“Yeah?”

“Come and help my girl out, would you?”

Oliver sauntered toward you with an indescribable emotion playing in his doe remanent eyes. His expression refused to falter, not even in the slightest as his gaze adverted toward the sight of Felix teasing your heat.

Virtually, you were on the edge of release as soon as you witnessed how Oliver dropped to his knees in front of you. Felix refused to remove his hand, even as Oliver shoved the fabric of your bikini bottoms aside to reveal your wetness.

You murmured a wordless prayer to whatever god reigned above as Oliver released a low whistle, the base of his tongue wetting his lips as he took in the altar you presented before him.

“We don’t have all day, Ollie.” Felix drawled onwards, the base of his forefinger continuing to prod the throbbing pearl lining your entrance.

Oliver obeyed, leaned forward, and licked a harsh swipe of saliva across your heat. Your back involuntarily arched at the sensation that followed, prompting the man before you to virtually submit himself to you. Head between your legs, just as you imagined the hours prior.

“Does that feel good, baby?” Felix murmured into the husk of your ear.

A barely incomprehensible response escaped the edge of your lips. The combination of Oliver working his mouth between your folds and Felix’s soothing motions across the nub of your clit resulted in hot, heavy sparks of pleasure building up at the base of your spine.

You buckled your hips upwards, practically on the verge of face-fucking Oliver. “Oh, my fucking…”

“[Y/N]...” Oliver murmured into your heat, the vibrations rooted from his mumbled words arrowed straight to your pooling core. The hand that wasn’t on the verge of tearing off your bikini bottoms completely clawed around the base of your thigh, drawing himself closer.

As if your body was a temple, and you were a goddess.

The length of your legs draped over the bareness of his back, the sensations of his muscles rippling with effort felt throughout your calves. The cool, wet skin of his shoulders pressed against you was a feeling beyond words.

Your orgasm began to trickle in with a singular stuffing of Oliver’s tongue. A cry rips itself from your throat, writhing with each pump.

“Ollie– Christ, right there baby…”

Saliva gradually begins to roll down the base of Oliver’s chin with effort, peering up at you with those fucking eyes as he continues to pound your wetness. With a few more ruts of his tongue, you came undone underneath his mouth. A strangled cry escapes you involuntarily, vision blurring momentarily as shockwaves grapple your entire being.

The force of your words escaped you in slight breaths. “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that, Ollie?”

“Well…” Oliver’s cheeks flushed before he continued to lick up every last drop of your release, stimulating your throbbing heat once again.

You slumped back into the frame of the lounge chair underneath you. Amid your post-peak haze, the choked noises of Felix’s heavy breathing cut through the air like a knife. You hadn’t even noticed he had removed his hand in the first place. Through the corner of your heavy-lidded eyes, you spied Felix, palming himself through his swimming trunks' thin, flimsy material.

“Fuck… Ollie, get to your feet.” Felix mustered in between strained words, managing to hold a reign of command over the young man planted before you.

The lounge chair squeaked beneath you with a strain of effort as you prop yourself up on the bridge of your elbows. A slight smirk gradually threatened the corner of your lips as you watched Felix stalk towards Oliver, step-by-step, inch-by-inch. All whilst teasing the waistband of his summer shorts.

Felix’s taller statue practically leered downward at the shorter male like a beast, a predator to his prey. The broadness of his body strained against the muscles lining Oliver’s back. The harsh ripple of Felix’s swimming trunks being discarded sounded throughout the otherwise quiet atmosphere, accompanied by the short whimper that reverberated from Oliver at the mere concept of Felix pressing himself against him.

The broadened surface of Felix’s fingers fiddled with the top of Oliver’s summer shorts. The commanding hues of his voice corresponded with the thin rustle of fabric. “Do you want to fuck my pretty baby right here, Ollie?”

The azure speckles that lined Oliver’s eyes virtually burned into you with the intensity of his stare. As you sprawled out upon the lounge chair right in his proximity, your bikini brief dangled loosely upon the rim of your ankles. Presenting yourself to him in the process.

Oliver managed to muster a nod. “I would be honored.” His voice sounded strained with arousal, no doubt.

With a lack of warning, Felix lowered Oliver’s trunks until his erection escaped without struggle. There wasn’t any question about how undeniably hard he was, especially when Felix pressed into him.

With a signature rip of foil, the male who stood over you began to attempt to line himself up with the slickness of your heat. A soft gasp, brimmed with desperation, reverberated from Oliver as Felix continued to tease his hole. Oliver wrung his palms around the arms of the lounge chair you possessed, making it easier for Felix to push into Oliver with a singular thrust and a line of saliva.

Oliver’s breaths picked up the pace as Felix began to work his heat further. His eyes grew a tad glossier at the immense discomfort brewing in his tight hole.

“Felix…”

“Don’t keep my princess waiting now.” Felix exaggerated the intensity of his words with a simple grinding motion of his hips against Oliver’s own.

Oliver’s breath had noticeably caught in the hollow of his throat. He obeyed though, wordlessly. Was it the harsh hues of Felix’s demanding words? Or the fashion in which Felix gradually thrusts in and out of Oliver’s heat, teasing his hole further. Encouragement. If you will.

Oliver’s girth buried itself into your willing cunt, inch by inch until his cock had disappeared fully into your body. Your lips parted absentmindedly at the remote concept of his size. Molten heat pooled throughout your abdomen at the sight of Oliver towering over you, puffing out a strained breath as Felix quickened his pace behind him.

Eyes half-lidded and cheeks flushed, Oliver began shifting his hips. A smooth tempo of his thrusts stimulates your inner walls, resulting in a slight moan reverberating from you. Felix’s eyes notably shift into something else entirely at the sound, his girth rutting Oliver with a spark of intensity.

“Wasn’t that hard, was it, Ollie?” Felix drawled onwards, a hint of teasing prominent as he slammed himself deeper into Oliver’s heat. The hue of Oliver’s whimpers fell upon deaf ears as Felix continued to draw out his words. “So good for us.”

The double doses of pleasure resulted in the heated flush of Oliver’s cheeks creeping down his neck. The sensual pace of his lips grew deeper, a tad sloppier as Oliver’s back involuntarily arched in protest. “This… is– fuck, Felix…”

“You can do this, baby.” You purred amid tangent breaths, peering upward at Oliver with a pair of lust-drenched eyes. Capable of causing Oliver to peak right there, right then. “Mmm… I’ll help ya’ out.”

Oliver couldn’t have gotten a word in at all before you draped the length of your legs across his bare waist. His hips inclined closer to you in the process, your pelvis tilted upward to allow the flushed male to pound into areas you never thought were possible.

“Christ, [Y/N]... [Y/N].”

The dirty sound of your name on his lips like a prayer, accompanied by the hot, searing pleasure burning through you caused your release to threaten you. Building up along your spine. Threatened to unleash with every buckle of Oliver’s hips, searing into you.

“She’s good at this, ain’t she, Ollie?” Felix taunted light-heartedly, broadened palms clutching along the bone of Oliver’s hips. Grinding him backward into his cock, still jacking away into his hole.

The newfound sensation brought a strangled gasp to rip out of Oliver’s throat, eyes slammed closed momentarily. “So… fucking tight.”

A soft chuckle bore Felix, hips striking ass as the roll of his girth grew to a brutal pace. Soft grunts of delight escaped Oliver, but his poundings grew sloppier and sloppier – signaling how close he was.

The lack of attention upon your wetness made you groan absentmindedly. “Ollie, you… fucking prick.”

Heat convulsing with a need to peak, you drew Oliver further back into you via his hips. His girth struck a key sensitivity within you, once. Twice. Thrice. Until the tension that built up within you dissolved into mere pleasure, virtually seeing stars as Oliver’s name played upon your lips like a prayer to the Gods.

By the time you returned to reality, Oliver wrothe at his peak. His hips had jerked, spilling every drop of his release into the rubbery goodness rolled over his tip. Felix had followed shortly afterward, the toned nature of his silhouette glistening with newfound sweat. His pleasure-laced groans sliced the air as he proceeded to flood himself into Oliver. Felix reached upward, palm curled around the hollow of his throat and inclining his head backward as he rode out his orgasm.

“That’s it, Ollie. So good for me.”

In the midst of you catching your breath, you witnessed Oliver bathed in the light of Felix’s praise. Mouth agape. Azure eyes speckled with nothing but absolute pride. Eventually, Felix released Oliver, leaving a blooming red mark illustrating the crook of his neck in his wake. The silence drew on momentarily as the males managed to catch their breath.

“You never answered my question, Ollie.” You prompted after a few beats, leaned over to pull your bikini briefs over your hips once more. “Where did you learn how to do that?”

“[Y/N]...” Oliver started, yet failed to finish as his cheeks flushed with adoration.

“Slow down on the investigations, doll.” Felix chimed in, his once dominant exterior melted down into the playful guy we all had known to love. He clasped Oliver on the shoulder, so casually, that you wouldn’t have guessed he was inside him a few minutes prior. “I think our dear Ollie has had enough for one day.”

You gave a teasing roll of your eyes but didn't press onward. Instead, you extended your arms out in a singular grand motion. “C’mere then, both of you.”

As the two males tucked themself into the base of your shoulders, you realized that they would do everything for you.

And you would do anything for them.

WORD COUNT: 2K MASTERLIST REQ ME!

707 notes · View notes

forlix · 5 months

Text

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 (besides myself)・l.f.

— you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

words・5.4k

pairing・lee felix x gn!reader

genres・babysitter!au, girldad!lix, nobody look at me, toothrotting fluff, more angst than originally intended tbh, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, happy ending yayyy, non-linear storyline

warnings・cousin has a korean name and experiences one (1) minor head bump, mc is temporarily heartbroken and experiences one (1) breakdown

playlist・house song by searows・glad by tori kelly・let's pretend by del water gap・you were good to me by jeremy zucker

a/n・hiiii my loves, i'm so unbelievably excited to bring u my first contribution to my and @astraystayyh's collaboration, "winter falls" ♡ every time i write for our ray of sunshine i'm reminded of how thankful i am to love him. this fic ruined me. hope it does the same to you (smile)

I. everything

“One day,” you muttered to the toddler sitting on your shoulders, “you’ll experience something deeply, irreversibly humbling, and I’ll be there to witness your downfall.”

Byeol responded to this with an unbothered babble. She then gathered two handfuls of your hair and yanked using far too much force to be biologically possible.

You folded like a lawn chair. “Mother—!”

Oh, that word was not suitable for button-sized ears.

“—oh, my dear mother, why? Why me?”

Technically speaking, your aunt should’ve been the target of your lamentations, but all she did was produce the child presently steering you around the kitchen like you were her own personal bumper car. Your own mother was the one who volunteered you to watch said child during the first weekend of your winter break. Only for an hour until the babysitter arrives, she’d said (raising her voice, so as to be heard over your groaning).

You adored Byeol. She made scarily accurate chipmunk sounds and possessed an immobilizing fear of grapes. She bust out a dance move before she took her first steps. The girl could have you floored with laughter without being able to say more than three words at a time. Still, this was far from how you imagined onsetting your desperately-needed few weeks off. Not to mention it was now half past three; your shift should’ve ended two minutes ago.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Byeol emitted an excited onomatopoeia like a golden retriever detecting the mailman. Your reaction wasn’t too far off; you swiveled your head in the sound’s direction, sang out “coming!” in a delighted vibrato, and twirled into the foyer, your hands around Byeol’s ankles anchoring her in place.

You cracked open the door and found yourself face-to-face with Byeol’s babysitter. The freckles scattered across his high cheekbones and sloping nose seemed to you like they were imprinted by the sun itself. His hair was dark, falling just shy of pitch black, and long, ending an inch or so below pierced ears. A few misbehaving strands rested over his forehead but did little to obstruct your view of his eyes: profoundly brown and pointed at either end, like poinsettia petals.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You felt your skin warm, your heart flip. You opened your mouth.

Then Byeol hit her head against the vertical edge of the front door, loud enough for it to echo.

The panic that seized you in that moment was truly unlike anything you’d experienced before. You caught one glimpse of the stranger’s expression (as mortified as you expected), and then you were seeing your own epitaph on the inside of your eyelids, engraved with the four words “Death by Furious Aunt.”

“Was that—?” The man sputtered, and his voice was rich and full and accented and just as breathtaking as the rest of him and holy fucking shit now was not the time.

“My fucking god,” you whispered, completely forgetting to watch your mouth. In a hurry, you swung Byeol off your shoulders and dropped to a knee. You leaned in close to examine her reddening forehead and cradled the plush of her cheek; she blinked at you a few times, fascinated by the sudden sight of your face again.

“You okay, Byeollie? That hurt a lot, didn’t it? I’m so, so sorr—”

Byeol started to laugh.

Not laugh as in those little chuckles she let out randomly, like there was something inherently amusing about the kitchen cupboard, but laugh as in a boisterous, resounding guffaw, like a great-uncle at a family gathering off one too many martinis.

This rendered you speechless for the second time in under a minute. Then, you lifted your other hand to cradle her other cheek, her face now sandwiched between your palms, and squeezed.

“I broke my cousin,” you whispered, your voice was so deathly serious that the man in the doorway had to stifle a laugh of his own.

His knee brushed against your shin as he sat down to your left, folding his legs into a criss-cross. You could discern notes of lavender and orange blossoms in the delicate cologne that clung to him, perforated the air and your mind both.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Please.”

Carefully, you shifted Byeol’s small frame towards him; the manner in which he accepted her was so smooth and practiced that there was no doubt in your mind you were watching a professional at work. He settled her on his right knee, then dipped his head to look her in the eye.

“Hi, princess,” he cooed with a dulcet smile. He curved his pointer finger, dusted it beneath her chin. “Why are you laughing, silly girl?”

Oh.

You might just continue your lineage after all.

“Y/N-ie,” she answered, still tittering.

He looked to you with a slight tilt to his head, and you nodded affirmatively. He murmured a quiet ah. “What about Y/N-ie?”

Somehow you sensed that she was about to embarrass you and pinched the bridge of your nose—in preparation.

“P-pretty.” I knew it!

The man let out the laugh he’d been holding back since earlier and tapped on her button nose, lowered his voice to a whisper that he knew you could hear.

“I agree.” His eye glinted playfully, matching his tone. “And so are you.” The bashful, high-pitched giggle she responded with sounded eerily similar to your inner monologue.

The two of you spent a little longer on the floor of the foyer making sure Byeol was okay, and then the girl upped and made a mad dash for the kitchen while yelling something about a horse, and if that didn’t confirm that she was completely fine (albeit incredibly strange) you didn’t know what would. You found her rolling around the carpet in the room adjacent to the kitchen and left her to her own devices while you and her babysitter fixed up a small fruit plate for her afternoon snack. No grapes, of course.

He told you he usually went by Felix, but that his Korean name was probably easier for Byeol to pronounce, with its easier consonants and whatnot. You asked which name he preferred, and he said either or. He was a recent college graduate, a year older than you, who was determined to spend at least the next two years doing nothing but working out his future. He accepted the part-time babysitting position to pick up some light cash in the process.

“And ‘cause I’m good with kids,” he added, splitting apart a tangerine. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” you said, plating a couple blueberries. “You melted her earlier.”

“She melted me. She’s so cute. And you’re so cute with her—I didn’t realize I was robbing someone of their job.”

You turned your head to regard the tot and let out a helpless laugh. Byeol tired of being a human lint roller a few minutes ago and had since moved on to staring aimlessly out the window.

“She doesn’t take me seriously, and I can’t stay mad at her,” you mused. “I would be a nightmare as her babysitter, trust me. She’s all yours.”

Felix held out two overturned handfuls of tangerine slices, to which you quickly moved the platter across the counter. He didn’t respond to your comments as he placed them on the outermost edge so that they looked like rays of sun emanating from a multicolored core. Adorable.

“Will you be around much, then?”

You made eye contact with him across the counter. On his perfect face was a teasing smirk and a subtle blush. Ah, you’d been mistaken, writing off his silence as concentration—he’d been contemplating how to best flirt with you.

“Y’know. In case I need any help teaching her cuss words,” he appended.

It was then your turn to flush a couple shades darker. “Please don’t tell her mom.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He walked around the perimeter of the counter until he was directly in front of you; the lavender and orange blossoms returned. “On one condition.”

Not even one hour on the job and he was already trying to blackmail you? You respected it. “Which is?”

As he shifted some of his weight onto the counter, something too shifted in his smile, giving it a quality that was every bit as hopeful as it was gentle.

It was then, while Lee Felix was looking at you like that, all dilated pupils and long lashes, when you predicted that he would one day break your heart. You predicted you’d let him.

“Be around,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a question or a demand. In hindsight, you think it was more akin to a birthday wish, ill-fated the moment it hit the air.

II. has changed

Felix pulled Byeol’s hood up and over her ears, and you realized he was right about the winter coat getting too small for her—she looked like a bowling pin. You muffled your snort into your scarf.

“And what was the last rule again?” He asked, his breath puffing into the frigid afternoon in tiny clouds. Byeol sighed like she knew anything of the world’s woes.

“No barking at other kids,” came the sad reply, but a toothy smile spread across her face anyways when Felix nudged the underside of her chin. She loved when he did that.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed. “I believe in you.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you said, and the wounded look Felix shot you was like you’d just confessed to hating kittens. “Come on—she doesn’t have a good track record. I’m allowed to have my doubts.”

“I dunno what that means,” Byeol announced with admirable frankness, and then turned around and scurried down the porch stairs, scattering fun-sized footprints across the snowy streets.

As you braced yourself to follow her, Felix stopped you with a slip of his hand into the pocket of your puffer. His fingers first aligned with yours inside the insulated nylon, then chased the spaces in between. He leaned in close, placed a kiss on the apple of your cheek, another on the corner of your mouth. This brought a helpless smile to your face, too. He had a way of melting you and Byeol both.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed. “A little barking never hurt anybody, baby.”

“Lix, last time somebody called animal control.”

“Ermm—a little barking never hurt most people.”

That winter, Byeol was four, and your relationship with Felix was about to turn two.

Funnily enough, you’d never figured out when your anniversary actually was. Felix wagered it was the day you met, as he knew he loved you the instant he saw you; you insisted it was months later, since it took both of you an entire winter break of open-ended flirting and informal dating to label yourselves for real. Imagine your horror when he showed up outside your college apartment on the last day of your fall semester, arms overflowing with flowers and gift bags brimming with your favorite things, the phrase “happy anniversary” on his lips three months before you perceived it to be. You’ve celebrated both days ever since.

You loved the ocean growing up. You didn’t get to visit it often, but when you did you would run up to the water’s very edge so that your toes dipped into the cold—and just stand there, observing, absorbing, until even the seam of your lips and the ends of your eyelashes were studded with crystals of seasalt. You found endless tranquility in its rhythmic whispers and unspeakable comfort in its oscillating waves, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Your fascination stemmed from the folktale your mother used to read to you before bed, about a sun goddess creating the earth. In the story, every component of nature was one of the sun’s beloved children. She allegedly loved them all, but you suspected the ocean was her favorite; it was obvious, the way she twinkled off its ebbing surface, the way every minuscule spot of light looked to you like a handprint of hers, left behind by eons of endless doting.

Felix reminded you of the ocean. Every day you grew more certain that you wanted to drown in him, to let his resonant voice and kind eyes sweep and keep you inside his depths. It was never salt that he pressed into your skin but warmth, stamped and sealed with caring hands and cautious lips. His deep whispers promised eternal love and temporary ecstasy and everything in between. You knew he would come back to you even if stranded in a different realm. And there was no questioning the goddess’ favoritism, either. The freckles on his face mirrored the sun’s very spots like an homage to his creator.

You didn’t love the ocean growing up, no. You had never loved before Felix.

The park was busy when the three of you arrived. Byeol and Felix recognized a few families as your aunt’s neighbors and hurried over to say hello. Your social butterflies.

“I’ll be over there,” you called after them.

Felix stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder. It had started snowing lightly on your walk there, and snowflakes now sat atop his sable locks. He looked like a painting. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You shooed them off. “Don’t worry about me. Go have fun.”

With that, you withdrew to the sidelines, an unoccupied swingset adjacent to a baseball diamond covered in frost.

Your baby cousin was brawny for her age, which you could’ve seen coming with how she was hauling at your hair two years ago, but even she couldn’t yet terrorize the playground without assistance. Who better to make her partner in crime than her favorite Bokkie? You couldn’t help but giggle as the two revolved around each other for the better part of an hour, Byeol’s smile colossal as she frolicked every which way, Felix’s smile worried but hopelessly endeared as he followed behind. He never let her leave his shadow. She never tried to.

It was there on those icy swings that you experienced a moment of strange clarity, like you’d broken the fourth wall of your own story. You could feel the winds of change blowing your hair across your shoulders. You were aware of time’s trickling from the gaps of your fingers like liquid mercury.

Your laughter dissipated to a bittersweet smile; your smile mellowed to dewy eyes. It seemed like just yesterday when Byeol was small enough to sit on your shoulders and Felix stepped into your kitchen for the first time. Now, she was scaling a rope ladder with the celerity of a crazed monkey while Felix hovered a wary hand by her waist. The muted sunlight caught on the silver rings he wore, particularly the thin, bright one on his middle finger. You had one just like it, adorning the same place.

The last two years were the happiest of your life. Why couldn’t you remember where they went?

Lavender and orange blossoms announced your boyfriend’s arrival—that, and the sigh of fatigue that he expelled as he dropped into the swing next to you.

“I’m not cut out for this anymore.”

Byeol’s neighbor had temporarily relieved Felix of his post by taking her and his son to test out the seesaw, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town could hear her enthusiastic shrieking.

“You know how people walk their dogs?” You mused. “Some dogs walk their people. She’s one of them.”

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at the grin creeping across your face; then, he groaned in a way that could only mean you were right on the money. You gave his thigh a sympathetic pat.

“You’re whipped, my love. It’s okay.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, suddenly perking up. “Hey, no barking though.”

“Are we considering that a win nowadays?”

“Do you see animal control anywhere?”

“Good point.”

Felix monitored your expression during the quiet interval that ensued—saw through the melancholy curve of your lips, the pensive slant of your gaze. There was a red tinge to the whites of your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

You saw him reach for you in your periphery. His fingers brushed a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, remained there for three slow heartbeats, and then lifted away.

“Angel,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not.” Not even ten seconds after the last time, he reached for you again, now to take your hand and bring it to his lap. “You know it’s not.”

“It’s just that—”

Felix thumbed over the ridges of your knuckles, his touch so gentle that it could’ve unraveled a chrysalis; it certainly unraveled you. You took a stabilizing breath.

“I wish could recognize my own happiness in the moment,” you sighed, “not just in retrospect. That way, even when it comes to an end, I’d still be able to look back and say with confidence that I was happy once. I’d like that, I think.”

His brows knit together as he processed your words, and, the next thing you knew, he left his swing trembling in his sudden absence and his trenchcoat became a black blur in the cold air.

Felix rested his elbows atop your knees as he knelt in front of you, cradled your face in his hands. He was achingly beautiful always, but you truly felt your breath swiped from your lungs at the new proximity of his ethereal features: petal-shaped eyes, wind-bitten cheeks, coral cupid’s bow. A painting.

“That’s easy enough,” Felix hummed. “How do you feel right now?”

You had zero agency in the smile this brought to your face. You wrapped your hands around his wrists, your answer quick, thoughtless. “Happy.”

He pressed his lips to the space between your eyes. “And now?”

“Happier.”

He pressed his lips to the curve of your jaw. “What about now?”

“Even happier.”

His gaze flickered to his final destination, but you beat him to it, sealing your mouth against his with urgency. The kiss that followed was so intensely loving that your head went fuzzy. How was it that you felt his adoration for you even in his pliant lips, his velvet tongue? You ran your fingers through the part of his hair. You loved when you could feel the locks flutter back into place afterwards.

“GET A ROOM!”

You and Felix pulled away from one another, wearing matching expressions of bewilderment. Byeol was approximately five Newtons away from soaring off into the stratosphere, her legs jostling around as she clung to her seat for dear life. It seemed your neighbor had a very aggressive way of seesaw-maneuvering. It seemed your cousin had a very aggressive vocabulary.

“Where did she learn—?” The two of you began in unison, then shot your heads back towards each other.

“It had to be you.”

“Outrageous—you’re the Australian here!”

“You cuss like one too!”

“Because of you!”

“So we’re just lying now?”

“Well, yes.”

Felix cracked a smile—and then the two of you were dying of laughter, his right eye squinting closed and your forehead thudding onto his shoulder. You hardly managed to get out your next words. “We have to do something about her vernacular, don’t we?”

“Oh, badly,” he replied. “Badly.”

After you expended your giggles, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, blissful, glowing. “Thank you, baby.”

“What for?”

“Being my happiness.”

He angled your face back to his and kissed you once more, whispering I love you like it wasn’t enough that it graced your ears; he needed it embossed upon your flesh in permanent ink.

Your intermingled breaths floated up into the air like flare signals over a capsizing boat. Here marks the time we were happiest.

III. (besides myself)

He’s blonde.

That’s the first thing you notice when you see your ex-boyfriend on your aunt’s porch: the slightly off-white color of his silky tresses, grown out longer than you’ve ever seen, pushed off his forehead and tucked behind his ears.

It’s not the only thing you notice, of course. His face has thinned ever so slightly, the shadows thrown over his features by the streetlights behind him particularly opaque. His outfit is glorious, expensive, with the black blazer and white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, the pendant of a silver necklace resting between toned collarbones. His hands are almost overflowing with what must be gifts for your family. It’s impossible to discern all of them from this distance, but you know the bouquet of white poinsettias is for your mom, the batch of brownies doused in sprinkles and icing for Byeol.

But the hair is where your gaze returns, because tucked among the platinum strands are black roots: millimeters of the color you grew to adore, peeking out as if trying to catch a glimpse of you, too.

You’re so occupied with this game of “I spy” that you don’t notice the rampant footsteps coming up behind you. Your six-year-old cousin collides with the back of your leg head-on and nearly topples you like a bowling pin.

“Is it him?” She asks breathlessly.

You come this close to berating her as you steady yourself against the wall—what did I say about treating human beings like couch cushions? But you look down to see her chin resting on the side of your thigh, her eager eyes shining so brightly that she puts her own namesake to shame. Your scolding tirade dissolves on your tongue like popping candy.

You simply sigh instead. “Yes, but—”

“BOKKIE!” She shrieks, and Felix’s head snap upwards at the sound of her voice. His tender smile melts some of the frost laminating your heart.

You crack open the door, making eye contact with Felix for the first time in six months.

“Put everything down. Quickly,” you whisper, and he obeys right away, alarmed by the urgency in your voice. A wise choice.

The last present has hardly touched down upon the wooden planks when Byeol wriggles through the doorway and charges towards Felix like an angered toro. He swivels at her bright holler of his name, lowers himself to a squat just barely in time to catch her in his embrace. The delighted laugh that leaves his mouth as he staggers backwards sounds like the sun itself; you feel lost in orbit hearing it again.

“Bokkie,” Byeol murmurs, her voice muffled in the dip of his shoulder, by the tightening of her arms around his neck.

“Hi, princess.” He kisses her temple, presses his nose against her hair. “Whoa, you’ve grown strong, haven’t you?”

“She takes taekwondo classes now,” you hum from above, and the shock in his face asks the very question that your poignant smile confirms. Yes, because of you.

Felix pulls away, cocoons her cheeks with cherishing hands. “Is that true?”

She bobs her head. “I want to be like Bokkie.”

And his eyes go impossibly, terribly soft, like he’s gazing at the horizon itself. The sight twists the knife in your gut and yanks on your tangled heartstrings. It’s all because of you.

“And kick some ass!” Byeol adds, knocking you out of your sentimental spiral. You clap a defeated hand to your forehead. Felix falls over himself. So much for fixing her vernacular.

A few minutes later, Byeol is pirouetting towards the kitchen with a couple of Felix’s smaller presents in her arms, all too happy to be of help. You linger behind as Felix takes off his shoes, your cousin’s departure leaving the two of you alone in the dim foyer.

Felix straightens. The two of you come face to face. The air hangs so heavily with unspoken words that you half expect it to start dripping.

“Hi,” he says.

You nearly laugh at the cruelty of it. The man you were certain you’d grow old with greeting you like you’ve been forced to sit next to each other on the first day of school.

“Hi,” you answer. “You look—”

The two of you say this last part in unison; old habits die hard.

“—nice,” you finish.

“—beautiful,” Felix breathes, his eyes flicking off to the side abashedly.

Your throat constricts, pulse quickens. Says you. If he was a painting before, you think he’s a sculpture now, his perfection as tangible as if hand-chiseled by the greatest artists of old. As clear as the sun’s beloved sea. You can’t tell if it’s his stylist’s doing or simply a product of him growing into himself.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. “And thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t do it for me.”

No part of you wants to see the subtle wince that crosses his face at your statement, so you turn your gaze to his jewelry-laden hands instead.

For a split second, you swear you see the same promise ring settled in the same place on his middle finger. You realize what you’re really looking at only after blinking the phosphenes from your eyes: the thin tanline that it left behind. The realization fixes and destroys you all at once.

Then, Byeol starts wailing about Felix’s whereabouts like an actress hired to spare you from this very interaction.

“Her Highness beckons.” The smile you manage feels like drying cement. “Shall we?”

On your way to the kitchen, you notice the cologne emanating from his person smells only of citrus—no lavender. Its absence steadies you, deludes you into believing that it’s a stranger you’ve just let inside.

That illusion lasts for exactly three hours and forty-eight minutes.

It’s clear that the breakup has your family walking on eggshells, but it’s even clearer that their adoration for Felix has never wavered. You’ve never resigned yourself to the restroom so many times in one night, only to stand with your back against the door, unmoving, unfeeling, listening to the low thrum of his voice through the mahogany. Chatting comfortably with your aunt, bursting into laughter with Byeol, reminding you of the time you considered him family too.

With every glance you toss your reflection, you discover new cracks in your composure. Has he noticed them yet?

After you come out of the restroom for the sixth time, you notice a light spilling from Byeol’s bedroom into the hallway. A low Australian accent graces your ears, followed closely by a tinkling giggle, and your body nudges you towards the sounds before your head can intervene.

You give your cousin’s door a feather-light nudge. It opens a few centimeters more and grants you vision of Byeol tucked into bed, Felix knelt at her side. Both of their faces are illuminated by the flaxen light of the nearby lamp.

Felix brushes her choppy bangs out of her eyes, a teasing smile on his lips. “Can I tell you a secret, princess?”

This wrests from her another fluttering laugh; you swear he’s the only person in the whole world who makes her shy. “Sure!”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Promise.”

“Not even Snernard.”

“M’kay.”

“Or Bong.”

“M’kay.”

“Especially not Trash the chicken. I don’t trust him.”

“I know, I know, I won’t!” Byeol huffs, and Felix laughs at her outburst. You also snort into your sleeve, amused (and deeply perplexed) by your cousin’s plushie-naming conventions.

“Thank you,” he hums, and he lowers his voice enough that you don’t catch the next thing he says.

All you perceive is the way that Byeol reacts. She sits up straight in bed, resting her back against her pillow. Her features rearrange themselves slowly, awfully, like the spread of cherry-flavored cough syrup over one’s sore throat, into the furthest thing from her trademark too-big-for-her-face smile.

Your stomach plummets to your fucking ankle.

“Why?” Her voice sounds microscopic.

“Well, do you remember what Bokkie’s dream job is?”

Byeol considers for a moment. “Being a singer?”

“That’s right.” He runs a knuckle over the hill of her cheek, the action achingly familiar, immensely fond. “And I found a place where I can do that, but it’s very, very far away. I won’t be able to come home very often.”

The telltale signs appear as he speaks; the final word sets them into motion. A tear streaks down the side of Byeol’s face. It hardly leaves the corner of her eye before it’s being intercepted by a doting swipe of his thumb.

“No,” she replies.

“You've grown so much.” Another tear falls. He wipes away that one, too. “You’re growing so well.”

“No,” she repeats.

“You’ve stolen the light of every star in the sky already. The whole galaxy will be yours someday, sweetheart. I know it.”

“I don’t want it,” she whispers. “I want my Bokkie.”

His vision starts to blur also. “But you don’t need me anymore.”

“We do.”

You know the precise moment Felix’s heart pauses in his chest because it is when yours does too.

“We?” He repeats, and she nods.

“Your dream job is being a singer.” Now Byeol is the one to reach for Felix, her delicate hand cupping the curve of his cheek. Her fingers are too small to catch his tears, she tries anyways—

“But what is your dream?”

It becomes too much for you.

You turn around. A choked sob escapes from behind the hand you have sealed to your mouth, causing both heads inside Byeol’s room to whirl in your direction. You don’t care that you nearly break both of your ankles beelining up the stairs; you only care to get the fuck out of that hallway.

You topple into your room, close the door behind you, and crumble.

Your quivering hands find purchase around your folded legs; your eyes squeeze shut against your knees. Rivulets of tears cascade over your shuddering lips like ruptured barrels of wine, left in the cellars of your soul to age, to spoil.

You never wanted your grief to see the light of day. Pouring your regret over every sidewalk wouldn’t change the past. Splashing your heartache across every wall like the world’s most fucked-up mural wouldn’t alleviate the pain of losing him. He was the one who left, but you were the one who’d asked him to. Feeling, yearning, mourning. Those always seemed so futile.

But you’re not just crying in this moment, rocking back and forth on your bedroom floor; you’re bleeding, the wounds you never treated igniting all at once as if exposed to vinegar, leaving you writhing and gasping in their wake. How you wish they’d been able to heal sooner. Maybe then seeing Felix tonight wouldn’t have splintered your soul like dropped porcelain.

Your door clicks open. Your breath hitches in your throat with a quiet scratch. The gulp of oxygen you intake tastes of oranges.

Every night before you fall asleep, you still think of the last time you visited the sea. The cool sand chafing against your toes, the coarse winds slapping your hair against your face hard enough to sting. The weather was terrible (you neglected to check the forecast before making the drive), but when you stepped onto the embittered coastline, you took what felt like the first real breath of your young adulthood. The fog melded to your skin as if melting a blindfold away, showing you the world in its entirety.

You return to that beach when Felix pulls you into his chest, and there’s no fog this time. Just the faint smell of lavender and your ocean, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Feverishly, Felix presses his lips to your temple, the apple of your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. Brokenly, he utters, “it’s you.”

You can feel his shaking in every part of him: the tickling breath, the fluttering eyelashes, the unsteady hand that reaches into the pocket of his blazer. You graze your fingers over his jaw, an attempt to steady his careening heart, only to lose yours in the fray also when he produces a small red box of unmistakable dimensions.

“God, it’s you. It always has been, always will be. Anything can change except for this.” His voice disintegrates as he speaks. You disintegrate as you listen. “Everything has changed besides myself.”

Felix leans back in to pepper kisses across the expanse of your wet features, then brings himself to one fated knee. He flicks open the lid. You don’t even spare the ring a glance; you don’t doubt its perfection. All you care to look at is the love of your life, deliquesced to adoration and tearwater.

“Thank you for being around, my dream.” His soft smile tends to your scars like ambrosia. “Will you let me do the same?”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ♡

1K notes · View notes

sanakimohara · 3 months

Note

This is my second ever ask in my 10 years of having Tumblr so please let me know if I’m saying this wrong or if this is rude 😅 but please could you do a felix or chan incredibly insanely darkly jealous a lot of breeding kink and rutting and c8ck dumb reader 😮‍💨😅😅 pretty please

“UNDER THE INFLUENCE” L. F.

Awe well I am honored to be your second ask here on tumble. I think I'll take Felix on this one...give him a bit more love in my post stream..

{ MDNI }

+++++++

Today was not supposed to end like this. You had no intention of being in a room alone with him -especially while you both were ‘working’- but here you are. Trembling and writhing as Felix had his fill of you.

It was a miracle that your makeup wasn’t smudged; thankfully, your hair wasn’t too messed up from its original wet and wavy look. No matter how many times Felix ran his fingers through it or if you pressed your head against the thin walls as shrouds of ecstasy hit you, it stayed modestly neat.

One less giveaway of what the two of you were getting up to in his dressing room.

“Felix…F-Felix th-that’s enough….Ahm!” You groan as quietly as possible, trying hard to not let anyone outside the room hear how amazing it feels to have your cunt devoured like there was no tomorrow. The blonde completely ignored your demand, swirling his tongue in quicker circles around your clit before delving into your dripping entrance.

He’d been at it for the past ten minutes at least, never letting you pull your hips away from his oddly rough grip, keeping your legs wide open as you sat on the -previously organized- makeup vanity. You felt terrible about doing such inappropriate things with a man you swore you’d never met all day.

All fucking day.

You’d refused to admit that Felix was your significant other to make the photo shoot between you and a male model less awkward. A small sacrifice you were both used to driving to keep your relationship concealed and stable, but for one reason or another, Felix felt a simmering rage when he heard you deny your ties to them.

He hated it so much that he’d been less approachable and friendly for the better part of the day.

The staff noticed Felix’s change, whispering about how on edge he was on and off camera-cordial to everyone like always- but noticeably annoyed. You’d seen it too, very concerned he wasn’t feeling well and convinced just checking on him during the staff hour-long lunch break wouldn’t do any harm to anyone.

Everyone except you.

Felix was not above taking his growing frustrations out on you. The instant you shut his dressing room door, he’d covered you, hands preemptively inching the bodice of your silk skirt to touch your bare skin underneath as he placed one fiery kiss on your lips after another. “Stop letting him touch what’s mine, angel,” he whispers into your parted lips, drinking in the immediate whimpers you let out in return.

“You can’t be serious, Lix. More than half of the shoot requires us to “

He rolled his eyes, smirking in disbelief at your attempt to reason with him, “Does it look like I fucking care. Either keep his hands off you, or I’ll ensure it myself.” The rare sight of anger adorned Felix’s gentle features, voice a rumbling whisper, and the combination propelled you into subspace within seconds. He was never this openly possessive. He’d pout or sulk if you didn’t give him attention occasionally, but this…

This was new.

It made you nervous under his gaze, rendering you speechless as he hugged you close, lips reconnecting to your own in another sequence of tender kisses as he walked you backward into the vanity. Your exposed back hit the mirror with a soft ‘thud’ and you flinched away from it. Felix brought you close to him, letting his warmth resolve your shivering and trailing his hands over the intricate details of your artistic bralette.

You pulled away, smiling proudly as Felix took a moment to admire your decorated breasts, eyes darkening with desire as you leaned back with a knowing smile on your face. “Like what you see, Liz?” You tease him, giggling softly as you turn your head to look at him through the reflection. He nods slowly, tongue poking one of his cheeks as he snakes an arm around your waist, closing the tiny gap between you two and effectively spreading your legs to frame his waist.

“You know I do, angel. Always will…” he mutters adoringly, placing a trail of heated kisses along your neck, shoulder, and finally, the curve of your breasts. He groaned in displeasure as he realized the material was intricately clasped, making it a hassle to remove and one less place on your body for him to play with.

Felix solves the dilemma quickly, licking a long stripe over each one before nipping at your skin until barely visible bruises are raised on your skin. Your face burned hot, lust seeping to panic as he marked what he knew to be his, and though it felt amazing, you knew he was inching you both towards exposure.

“Lix, please don’t…they’ll see those…mm,” you bit back a moan as he made another affliction, purposefully making it noticeable. You flinched against him, hands flying to claw into his shoulders, “That’s enough…” you moaned into his ear. The demand lost its edge as it slipped off your tongue, concern becoming a blur as Felix tangled a hand in your hair, pulling it so you had no choice but to let him stain your skin with as many love bites as he pleased.

Your brows knitted together as each one became more intense than the last, the arm around your waist holding you flush against him, adding to the mind-numbing pleasure he was inducing.

You tried one last time to reason with him, stuck in thralls of heat and logical thinking, “Felix…th-“

He cut you off immediately, devoid of any sympathy for your plight, and his authoritative tone made that abundantly clear.

“I don’t care,” he retorts, and you whine in response, “..But I do.”

Felix laughed dryly, inwardly amused by your signature pout but unsympathetic with your reasoning. “You shouldn’t,” he replies softly, bringing his hands to caress your face. You stared up at him lovingly, leering into his touch as he pecked your lips, the subtle hums of approval thundering in his chest, building the pool of heat in your core.

“I know, Lix….” You murmur into the kiss, feeling his hands drop to your thighs, giving them light-handed squeezes. You subconsciously roll your hips to get his touch closer to your dripping cunt. He smiles against your lips, chuckling at your eagerness and immediately giving in to you.

“Desperate little angel, aren’t we?” He teased you, discreetly slipping the many rings off his fingers as you nodded your head and let out a breathless “mhm” in response. Felix shifted your silky skirt to the side, draping the fabric off of your legs as he cupped your mound with one hand. He bit his plush bottom lip as your hips bucked into his hold. A sheer thong was the only thing keeping your soaked folds away from him, and he remedied the obstacle by pulling it to the side.

“Fuck…” you hiss as the cool air hits your exposed cunt, slick going ice cold as Felix prodded to skilled fingers past your entrance. “It’s a miracle you don’t have cum running down your leg, love. It must be so hard walking around this wet for me, yeah?” His voice carried so much weight, doubling down on your own pleasure as he fingered you at the slowest pace possible.

You were at a loss for words, thoughts, or any coherent reaction as he curled his fingers forward to hit your sweet spot. Felix wanted a verbal answer, not just the satisfying gratification your moans brought him, “Need to hear you, angel..or I’ll stop.” You shake your head in displeasure, blushing heavily as you rush a reply, words slurring into excited whimpers.

“Y-yes…s-Ahm….fuck Lix…y-yes you’re right….”

“Good girl…” he whispers, pumping his fingers faster and pressing your clit with the pad of his thumb. You yelp quietly, whining curses as a familiar tightening ramped up in your stomach, and you clenched around his fingers as a result.

Felix groaned vicariously, smirking wildly before withdrawing his hand. “N-no! Lix, please!” You nearly shout in agony at the loss of fullness, ready to cry as he drops to his knees, faking a frown as he comes face to face with your glittering core. “You’re being awfully loud for someone who doesn’t want to get caught, love.” His warm breath fans the slick entrance as he speaks, putting you in a daze that intensifies when he flicks his tongue against you.

“Don’t care anymore…jus’ wanna cum,” you mewl as he focuses on the task at hand, finding the rhythm to taste you with his tongue perfectly and urging you to cum in his mouth with every deliberate action.

His blonde hair tickled your thighs, low moans sending vibrations through you in waves and heightening the toll your climax took on you.

Felix refused to stop until your cunt was all he’d be able to savor for the rest of the day. You nearly fell forward on him in a state of elated exhaustion as he stood back up and kissed you deeply. Your eyes slid shut as the creaminess of your release and his spit seeped down your throat, a wanton moan spilling from you both as his tongue danced with yours, and your hands traveled up to grip his hair.

“Careful…” he grunts, the sound giving way to an altered whine. You pull the blonde strands harder, lips connecting to his jawline and making your own mark on his tan skin. He reaches for his belt, glad his outfit wasn’t nearly as complicated as your own, and a sigh of relief comes out as a sharp exhale through his nose the moment his cock springs free.

You smile against his skin, eyes trailing down to get a view of it, “You’re such a hypocrite,” you taunt him. Amused to see how affected Felix was by the mere thought of another man laying his hands on you.

He groans, muttering a semblance of disagreeable words before shoving you back with gentle force. The conjoined feeling of the cold mirror hitting your heated skin and the instantaneous contact of his throbbing shaft gliding up and down your glittery folds has your back arching as ripples of pleasure course through you.

Felix drops his head to the crook of your neck, a few strands of his hair ghosting your skin as he places featherlight kisses. “Lix..” you mumble lowly, unable to think straight as he breathes in your scent, his hands grazing down your spine as he does.

“Promise me he won’t touch you again,” he whispers in your ear, his hips pausing, the tip of his cock inching into you ever so slightly. You whined loudly, head lulling back as your brows furrowed in frustration, one hand slipping from his tousled hair to clasp around his throat. Every breath he took raised his Adam’s apple, your thumb gingerly baring down the muscle as you shook your head slowly.

“I can’t..please don’t make me,” you plead for a compromise, but Felix disregards the refusal, pushing into your cunt inch by inch, torturing the both of you with the long-awaited security your fluttering walls would impose on him. “Yes, yes you can…you will. Promise me, sweetheart. Open your pretty mouth and swear to me that you’re all mine..” Felix shifted between pleading and demanding, eyes flickering from your expression of pure ecstasy as he sunk all the way into you to the space where you two connected.

A train of thought no longer existed for you as he pulled out slowly, slamming back so harshly that the vanity quivered from the subtle force. Your mouth fell open, eyes rolling in earnest bewilderment the rougher Felix got. “Fucking answer me…,” he groans, burying his cock in you, and refusing to move until you stuttered out a response.

Work be dammed. Telling some random guy to keep his hands to himself for the next few hours paled in comparison to your need to cum….and was honestly a task you’d do whether Felix was coercing it out of you or not.

So, as much as you cared for professionalism…it’d have to take a backseat to whatever emotion he was dragging you into now.

“I. I promise it won’t happen again…I promise, Lix…” You didn’t care how pathetic you sounded, past the point of modesty and clinging to Felix for dear life as he picked up the pace of his thrusts. Your chest pressed into his, the intricate details on your bra chilling his burning skin and prompting him to hold you there with an arm snaking around your waist.

He fisted the sheer material of your skirt, almost ripping through it as he tugged it higher, nails digging into your skin possessively, and you winced in pain as he brought his lips to your ear again. “Hm, does it hurt, angel?” He asks, feigning concern, and the contrast of the sweet gesture amid brutality made your head spin endlessly. “Y-yes,” you huffed as a moan built in your throat, quickly slipping out as he shifted one of your legs up and around his lean waist. The adjusted angle drew a surprised cry from you, cunt gripping every ride and vein of his cock as he took advantage of the position. He was bruising your sweet spot with an intensity and speed you’d never experienced before.

Felix was generally endearingly romantic and rarely this aggressive with you. Seeing, well, witnessing this side of his character was an edge for you on its own.

You were surprised that you managed to hold out this long without cumming and even more taken aback by the steady stream of arousal pooling on the vanity beneath you. Felix noticed it too, cock twitching inside you as pride flooded his system, “You’re making such a mess, pretty girl… does it feel that good?” He grinned triumphantly when you nodded without hesitation, hips rolling to meet his thrusts at an even pace for as long as possible.

“Gorgeous, so…fucking gorgeous..” he praises your every reaction, running a hand down the expanse of your torso, stopping to press down where you could feel his cock the most. You blushed as the applied pressure emphasized exactly where Felix was inside you.

The coil in your core teetered on the verge of snapping, your hands disappearing underneath the hem of his designer dress shirt, and your manicured nails scratched into his toned torso. The simple action caused Felix to buck his hips and wrap his free hand in your hair as he brought you into an open-mouthed kiss. It was sloppy, void of any decency, as the both of you chased your high at the expense of the other.

You clawed at his skin, moaning louder as the knot in your stomach begged to loosen for the third time in a row. He stared into your dreamy gaze, reading the warning in them as he held your head close to his.

Felix wanted nothing more than to etch this very moment into your mind for the rest of the day -your life. The thought of you walking around, filled to the brim with his cum as you posed for one picture after the next plagued his conscious, and undid the last link of reason for him.

“Fuck this,” he snapped, brows furrowing with determination as he pulled out of you, and slid you off the vanity to bend you forward on it instead. Thankfully, you caught yourself in time, too dazed to stop him from kicking your legs apart, and reentering you from behind. “Felix…” you groan exasperatedly, shuddering as his cock stretched your cunt with ease, causing a thin drip arousal to slide down your inner thighs.

The blonde leaned over you, a hand resting on the curve of your back as he returned to his pace from earlier. Sweat starts to build on his tan skin, a concentrated expression adorning his angelic features as he pounded into you.

Blank.

Your mind was entirely blank the longer he bullied his cock against your sensitive womb and the tension mounting in your body multiples exponentially as he lowered himself to speak in your ear lowly.

“This is where you belong, angel. Just like this, with me, an no one else understand?”

You nodded weakly, fighting back tears as the urge to cum from the sound of his voice tempted you.

It’d only take one more possessive word from him -paired with that salacious smile on his face- to unravel you. Felix was at his end, too, eyes sliding close as the precision of his thirst became a tenuous blur.

“You think he’d use you this well, love?” He slurs the question, unintentionally pulling your hair as he snaps his hips harder. “No…”you sigh deliriously, reaching a hand to run through his hair and bring him in for a heated kiss, while the other latched against the mirror to hold you steady under his weight as the knot in your core spiraled loose.

“That’s it….angel, fuck, you feel so good…” Felix doesn’t even try to be discreet, zoned in on the way your cunt gushes on his cock, greedily taking the hot ropes of cum he releases. Oxygen alludes to you for a few seconds, an overbearing heat rushing through you and your body quivering in the aftershock.

You looked divine. Unreal even. That pleased smile on your lips as you giggled shamelessly only added to the glow you emitted in your shared highs.

“He won’t touch me again, Lix..” you panted softly, smiling more expansive as you clung to him tiredly and laid your head on his shoulder.

He understood then. Why he’d felt so stricken with jealousy over you the whole day. Yes, he loved you, but the underlying notion that no one else knew it angered him.

What good would it do him not to try and claim you, at least? If fucking you into the bliss of oblivion was what needed to be done….he could make that sacrifice.

Felix kissed the top of your head, grinning as you whined defeatedly as he shifted his hips to settle his cock further into you, “See, that wasn’t so hard to agree to, now was it, love?”

You pout, raising your head to glare at him playfully, “No��.but now the stylists will have to cover me in two layers of foundation!”

Felix raised a brow, gently rolling his hips into again, and you melted underneath him at the overstimulation. “Who said we were done, angel?” He asks, smiling at your fucked out reflection shifting to a look of desperation. You opened your mouth to say something but the words died in your throat, replaced by a broken moan as he gradually pumped his length past your tender walls, spreading his cum over them, and edging you both to another round.

This was not how your day was supposed to go, but there was no fight left in you, and certainly not enough left to refuse being stuffed full with Felix’s cum for the next thirty minutes.

Felix chuckled at the sight of you accepting your fate, subconsciously rocking your hips back to meet his, and welcoming the oncoming warmth of his accumulating releases.

Maybe making him jealous could be your new favorite hobby….

++++++++

This one was fun. I'm kind of proud of how it came out too....my editing is getting better hehe.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Credits to owner 🖤 FYI if I met him and he made a joke I’d start laughing the same way zendaya was cracking up everytime Tom holland opened his mouth….i mean how else am I gonna convince Felix he’s my soulmate lmao 🖤

485 notes · View notes