serenacasinni

Latest Posts by serenacasinni

SKZ 5'CLOCK ⟡ BOUNCE BACK

⊹ ₊ LEE KNOW IN 2024 ₊ ⊹

HOP – Member Solos

LEE KNOW - Stray Kids 合 (HOP) UNVEIL : TRACK Youth (리노)

waxingracha trying aegyo in live (23/11/24)

COUNTDOWN TO LEE KNOW'S BIRTHDAY -> DAY 2 BAREFACED LEE KNOW

Min as 'sky' and ho as 'vast' in Chinese characters Be a person as vast as the sky.

✨ HAPPY 26TH BIRTHDAY LEE MINHO ✨

230820 im so so normal about this btw!!!!! if u were wondering!!!

Kinktober Day 22: Hate Sex

[kinktober masterlist.]

🔞 warning: smut below! mdni.

pairing: Lee Minho x reader

•

“This hotel room is a fucking joke,” Minho groans from the doorway of your shared room. “I thought they said this was a suite.”

“Technically it is one,” you counter, grasping a plastic toothbrush in one hand as you begin to brush your teeth. “It’s just the best suite you can get for the middle of nowhere.”

Minho paces the room as he eyes the single bed in the middle of it, the off-white duvet still pulled taut over every corner, completely untouched. He observes the flattened pillows, which appear to be a little too yellow to be considered sanitary, and he glances out the window at the view of an empty parking lot and a brick wall.

He sighs as he assumes a spot at the foot of the bed, his feet grazing the spotty carpet, as he hears the faucet run.

When you reappear from the bathroom, shutting off the light behind you, you gesture to the bed awkwardly, not meeting his gaze.

“Pick your side,” you tell him, eyeing the nightstand at your shared belongings. The majority of it is yours- your jewelry, a phone charger, your makeup bag, a book from your bag. Minho glances over his shoulder at the nightstand, shrugging, and then his gaze meets the floor in front of him again.

“You can have the nightstand,” he says. “I’ll take the side facing the mysterious stain on the wall.”

You want to laugh, biting back a smile, as you nod in understanding. Minho may be funny at times, but you’ll be damned if he ever gets a proper laugh out of you.

You’re the first to pull back the duvet, crawling under the covers as you watch Minho maintain his spot at the foot of the bed. He lets out another exaggerated sigh, and then he finally lets himself climb in beside you, lying on top of the duvet, his arms folded over his stomach.

“Turn out the light,” Minho commands. He shuts his eyes before he can see you scowl at him, unimpressed by his brashness.

Though you don’t argue with him, simply reaching over to turn off the lamp and shut your own eyes.

For several minutes, there’s not a word spoken between the two of you. There’s simply the low hum of the air conditioning, which turns on and off at seemingly random intervals. Every time it’s off again, you can make out the sound of Minho’s breathing, as his eyes remain fixed on the ceiling above him.

“I can’t sleep,” Minho says after a while, sitting up in bed and glancing around the room.

“Just try,” is all you tell him, not opening your eyes.

He attempts to fluff his pillow, to no avail, finally pulling the duvet over his body. And then in one swift motion, he’s pulling his shirt off over his head, tossing it onto the floor below.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s too hot in here,” Minho protests. “I’m sweating.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to sleep next to you if you’re naked.”

“Then sleep on the floor,” Minho retorts, lying back once more and folding his hands over his bare chest.

You don’t argue it again, knowing it’s a moot point when it comes to Minho. He may be your assigned plus-one for your best friend’s wedding, but despite her insistence that you’d get along with him, all you seem to do is bicker. Coordinating outfits together, attending wedding rehearsals, now rooming together for another insignificant event- he’s insufferable, the way he doesn’t miss an opportunity to argue.

“Don’t snore,” Minho says, breaking the silence once more. “If you do, I’ll wake you up.”

“Would you lighten up?” You say finally, sitting up to meet his gaze. “I don’t really want to be here, either. But you’re getting on my last fucking nerve. Just go to sleep, and shut up, will you?”

Minho scoffs when you lie down again, and then he shuts his eyes, chuckling amidst the silence.

“God, you want me so badly,” Minho remarks, rolling over to face the wall now.

“What did you say?”

He says nothing, maintaining an amused smile on his face.

“Say it again,” you command, sitting up to glare at him.

“You heard me.”

“No, I didn’t. Say it again, seriously.”

“I said you want me so badly,” he says finally, turning around to face you.

“You’re a fucking jerk.”

“Tell me I’m lying then,” Minho smirks. “You can’t, because it’s true.”

“I have never liked you, and I never will like you. I’ve hated you since the second we were assigned to each as plus ones for this stupid wedding.”

He shrugs devilishly, lying flat against the mattress once more, as he folds his arms behind his head now.

“Okay,” is all that Minho says. Even in the darkness, you can make out the curves of his pectorals as he flexes his arms behind his head, his chest rising and falling with every breath. His jawline clenches as he feels you continue to stare at him, and then he sits up again to meet your angered gaze.

“Glaring at me relentlessly still doesn’t dispute the fact,” he remarks. “You might as well just admit that’s why you’re so weird around me.”

His gaze seems to flicker over your lips, and then back to your narrowed eyes, as the same cocky smirk is plastered upon his handsome face. You can’t verbalize the annoyance from the back of your throat, simply muttering some string of curse words at him. But your words are contradicted by your actions, when you lean forward to get a little closer to him, his breath hitching in the back of his throat at the proximity.

It’s Minho who’s a little confused now, his expression turning completely serious, as he observes you tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“You’re the weird one,” you challenge, doing your best not to let your gaze accidentally fall to his bare torso. “You stare at me every opportunity you get- you turn all cold when I talk to other men.”

Minho’s lips part, as if he’ll say something in defense of himself, yet he remains quiet.

“Say it,” you finish, cocking your head in his direction. “Say that it’s you who wants this.”

Minho doesn’t give himself an appropriate amount of time to think over your words, before he’s leaning in to kiss you, his hands instinctively shifting to your waist to pull you in closer. He can’t tell if you’re surprised, or angry, or maybe you even seem to enjoy the events that unfold between the two of you. But it’s hard to decipher when you’re kissing him back with such passion, little gasps escaping into his parted lips as he slips his tongue between your lips.

Minho kisses as though he’s wanted this all along- and yet you do, too. And amidst the shared desperation of hands reaching for each other, and breathless gasps for air, you’re certain the matter of who’s wanted this more simply doesn’t matter anymore.

Minho’s muscular arms push you down against the mattress, where he resumes his kisses, as his hands caress the sides of your waist.

“Say it,” he beckons, in between repeated kisses. “You wanted this all along.”

“Fuck you,” is all you say back to him, tangling your fingers in his silky brown hair, as he tugs the elastic of his gray sweatpants down.

“You’d love that, huh?”

There’s nothing else spoken when he finally tugs his boxers down over his erect cock, and then he loops his fingers into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down along with your panties.

Minho’s hand navigates to your inner thigh now, where he assists in hoisting your leg up for better access, and then he guides himself in with complete ease, quickly reattaching his lips to yours. It’s dizzying when he’s finally inside of you, his cock throbbing against your walls as he begins to move. There’s an overwhelming sensation that maybe you have wanted this all along, constantly intrigued by the glances he steals at you, the way he’s protective when you’re in the presence of other men. Even the method in which converses, always finding a way to frustrate you, to keep you on your toes as you try to make sense of him.

“You like that?” Minho queries through gritted teeth. He grunts each time he thrusts into you, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and finding purchase along his chiseled jawline.

“Yeah,” you attempt to say back, though your voice is almost muffled by every harsh thrust, his cock kissing your cervix with every push of his hips. When your hands graze over his bare back, he quickens his pace, causing your nails to dig into his flesh, and Minho lets out a fervent moan at the satisfying, yet deliciously painful sensation.

“Say it,” Minho commands, coaxing an entirely different confession out of you. And by the way that he moves your hands down to your sides and pins them against the mattress, not permitting you to touch him until you’ve uttered the words, you can’t do anything but indulge him.

“I wanted this so bad,” you whine, moaning when he hits a particularly harsh angle. “I was always hoping you’d give up the ‘cool guy’ act and just fuck me already.”

He exhales sharply through gritted teeth, his grasp around your wrists tightening a little, as he comes down to suck a generously-sized bruise into the crook of your neck.

“Was it so obvious I wanted this, too?” He queries, slowing his rhythm a little. “Fuck, I can’t stand when you talk to the other groomsmen. You just love teasing me, don’t you?”

You can feel your cunt pulsate with every word that escapes his lips, your own heartbeat ringing in your ears as he taunts you. He fucks you so well, filling you in ways you can only fantasize, and yet his taunting is still somehow irritating to you, like he thinks he’ll have you wrapped around his finger with a quick fuck and some sweet talk.

“Nothing I do is for your attention,” you retort with a scoff, a breathy gasp succeeding your words. “You’re just insecure I’d fuck any of them before you.”

Minho pauses his thrusts for a moment, furrowing his brows in confusion. A statement he knows to be false, considering you’re right here under him, letting him fuck you like he’s going to breed you. And then he wonders if he really is the first- have you indulged any of the other groomsmen before him? Is this some little game you’re playing? Was there some other “grand suite” booked for an event, with one bed, and several months of similarly suffocating sexual frustration between the two of you?

“Turn around,” Minho orders as he pulls out of you.

His expression has grown completely serious, no sign of mercy as he assists in flipping you over, pinning your hips to the mattress and hovering over you. His hands find your inner thighs again, spreading you for him once more, and then he’s entering you again without warning, one hand pressed to the small of your back as he works himself in and out of you much faster now.

“Look at you. Taking me so well, almost like you’re made for this. You love that we’re stuck in this stupid suite together. You love that they only booked us for a room with one bed, and you love taking my cock like this. Am I wrong?”

There’s no way to answer him when his pace is at its quickest, the sounds of squelching filling the dark room around you, and perhaps even echoing past the thin wallpapered walls. You pray that there’s nobody in the rooms beside you, because they could most definitely make out that he’s hate-fucking you, by the way you attempt to respond in stifled moans, as his grunts get much louder.

“Fucking say it,” Minho orders again. He loops your hair around his slender fingers to pull taut, littering a series of kisses along your jaw. Your eyes roll back in pleasure, relishing in the sensation of him channeling all his frustrations through you. There’s so much you can admit when he’s fucking you well beyond comprehension now, and you have to bite your lip to prevent from uttering some false string of confessions about how good he is at this. It’s true- he fucks like a porn star- of course you’d never let him know that.

“I love it,” is all you can reply in a desperate whine, as he keeps his grasp around your hair. He’s gentle to push your face back onto the mattress, and then his lips find your ear, where he nibbles on the lobe and allows his heavy breathing to fill your ears.

“You love it,” Minho repeats. “You love it, and you’ve made it obvious from the fucking start. Now cum for me.”

He doesn’t need to ask you twice- not when your head is spinning in a daze, eyes rolled into the back of your head as he keeps your face pressed against the mattress. Your hair is sticky with sweat, both his and yours, and tears prick the corners of your eyes as you feel him let go inside of you first, painting your insides with his release, as he coaxes an orgasm out of you, too.

“Fucking cum for me,” Minho repeats, thrusting his arousal in and out of you. It’s mere seconds that you follow suit, a wet puddle forming on the mattress when your fluids trickle of of you.

Minho pants heavily over you as he catches his breath, loosening his grip on your hair and tucking it behind your ears once more. He pulls out to roll over, glancing in your direction from his side, and then he taps your shoulder gently, prompting you to roll over, too.

“Are you okay?” Minho asks, sitting up with a concerned expression.

“I’m fine,” you say back, lying back on the mattress, hands folded over your chest.

There’s a silence in the room as you both attempt to make sense of what just happened, and then you begin to laugh, wiping a bead of sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand.

“What’s so funny?” Minho asks.

“You’re insufferable,” is all that you respond, turning onto your side now and shutting your eyes.

You can almost hear the smug grin he wears on his face, satisfied at having beat the other groomsmen at this little game. He wonders if you’d been truthful about wanting to fuck them, too. You couldn’t have been- not in a session this passionate. Not after a fuck this good.

“Y/n?” Minho asks, intent on coaxing the truth out of you.

But before he can produce his question, you’re interrupting him, a smug grin also plastered across your face.

“And don’t snore,” you tell him, lips pulling further up into a wicked smile. “If you do, I’ll wake you.”

*

LEE KNOW - TOKYO 241117 (cr.yuja_320922)

LEE KNOW / DOMINO (241117)

© 블 | do not edit and/or crop logo

skz family + text posts

© Avocado1025 | do not edit and/or crop logo

i will be 102 on my death bed still blabbering about this night…

The photos are blurred, yes I know. But damn, look at him😍🔥

25 Questions with Stray Kids ⁘ Lee Know

KCON LA 2023 D3 ⁝⁝ TOP LINE Lee Know

© Kay💜

Lee Know @ 2023 MTV Video Music Awards (230912)

Lee Know x Gucci's The God of Love

231022 UNVEIL 13 | © luvskzuntilidie

BYE

lee know in atlanta // lonely st

video credit: @EYE5OFLEE

© StarinEyes_LK | do not edit and/or crop logo

ৎ୭‧₊◜ you can take it like no other lee know x f!reader

summary: minho doesn't forgive easily, especially not when it's his own member calling his girlfriend 'easy'. so when seungmin comes home early from a trip, you and minho decide to fuck with him - by having the loudest sex possible.

word count: 2.8k words

author's note: not me polishing up my WIPs instead of actually working on my series!! someone stop me!! but also read this because I wrote this months ago when I was in a mood and i think it's sexy

warnings: voyeurism/exhibitionism (as per usual, sorry not sorry); unprotected sex (you know the drill, just don't!); whipped dom!minho and sub!reader; reader calls minho daddy; dacryphilia; slapping; some degradation/dumbification; creampie; porn with barely any plot

“Maybe if your girlfriend wasn’t so easy, you wouldn’t have to be so jealous all the time.”

Seungmin had grumpily mumbled the sentence out one random day at dance practice, and Minho had immediately seen red, venom in his eyes as he stalked over to Seungmin. Chan stopped him in his tracks. Chan did his best to defuse the situation, telling Seungmin to fucking apologise. Seungmin did, and Minho graciously decided not to punch him in the teeth, but he had never forgotten.

Minho gets his opportunity for revenge on Seungmin one unexpected morning when all the boys are away, visiting family or friends for the weekend, and you and Minho crash at the dorms after a date.

Minho wakes up in the morning to the sound of the front door opening and closing and footsteps leading to the room next to Minho’s.

He smirks and as soon as you wake up, he pulls you into his arms, whispering the news about the unexpected guest in your ears. You knew what he was getting at right away, because of course Minho had told you what Seungmin had said, and if you and Minho had anything in common it was a temper.

So, without a second’s hesitation, you swing your leg over Minho’s trim hips, straddling him on the bed and leaning down to kiss him deep and dirty. He groans into your mouth, indulgently. God, he loves it when you get so demanding.

His greedy hands rub up and down your soft thighs as you lick into his mouth, before he grabs the meat of your ass and grinds your barely clothed core over the bulge in his boxers. It’s already so good because there’s oh so little fabric between you.

His hands get more demanding, wandering under your (his) shirt, and he revels in your soft, warm skin. Gently cupping your breasts, he rolls your sensitive nipples between his fingers, making you sigh into his mouth, back arching, and he can feel your cunt clench around nothing.

He pulls the shirt over your head and flips you over, pulling his own shirt off, leaning down to press hit hot lips back to you. But now he can feel your soft skin on his, the plush of your tits pressing your hard nipples into his chest, and it makes goosebumps race down his spine. He presses his body into yours, trying to feel more, more, more, his tongue deeper and deeper into your mouth until he can’t breathe anymore.

His hand snakes between you and when he touches the boxers you’re wearing (also his) the material is already damp.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, my sweet little baby, why are you so wet already?” he rasps into your lips with a little smirk.

“Wanna show you what a whore I am for you,” you chirp sweetly, smirking up at him with innocent eyes, “I want Seungmin to hear, too.”

A surprised whine tears out of your throat when he suddenly slides two fingers into you to the knuckle, groan rumbling out of his chest at the lack of resistance and slick slide of them.

“I want Seungmin to get hard when he hears,” you suddenly mumble out, and Minho swears he goes cross-eyed and his cock throbs. He pulls his fingers out of you entirely, heart racing in his chest as he watches you whine and arch your back at the loss.

“You want to put on a show for Seungmin? Want him to jerk off to us having sex?” his voice is thick with want as he says these nasty things, and he can feel your legs try to rub together to relieve some of the pressure.

“Don’t need to put on a show, you fuck me so good, daddy.”

There it is. Minho all but rips the boxers off you, standing up to shuck off his own, before he lets one finger drag down, gathering your slick. He pops it into his mouth and sucks the sweetness off it as he fists his cock. He’s already rock hard, but the view of you naked and needy underneath him never gets old.

He leans over you again, rubbing the swollen head of his cock through your slick.

“Here’s what we’ll do, baby girl,” he whispers into your ear, choked whine escaping your throat as shivers rack down your spine. “I’ll fuck you into this mattress long and hard until you forget your name, just how you like it. And you’ll make your pretty noises, and you won’t hold back, promise me, sweetheart?”

You nod at him frantically, but he pulls back and slaps you once on the cheek, making you moan out, one tear forcing its way out of your eye at the sting.

“Use your words,” he chides, now out loud.

“Yes, daddy, please, daddy, treat me so good,” you babble, and he can already see you slipping. God, he loves you.

He thinks he can hear the mattress squeak on the other side of the bed, and he suddenly slides into you, slow, but steadily until he bottoms out.

He stilled briefly to let you adjust, but your hands are grabbing at his arms, hips trying to fuck yourself onto him.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he mumbles out, saccharinely sweet.

“Move, please,” you finally whisper, and he complies with a dirty grin, sliding in and out of you painfully slowly, your combined moans mixing with every slow drag of his cock along your walls.

He loves fucking you like this, drawing out the pleasure, feeling every second of it. You tried to get off like this before, and it was a night he would never forget, the hot drag of his cock along your pulsing walls for hours and hours and hours until he nearly blacked out from the overstimulation, so bad yet so good. At some point, you had started begging him to make it stop, and he couldn’t control himself anymore, fucking into you sloppily, animalistic, your hips rocking to meet his desperately, until you both came so hard you could barely breathe. But he was still hard and fucked you through another orgasm. You passed out on top of the covers that night.

But that wasn’t the plan now. He was only trying to savour the feeling of you, get you nice and sensitive, and also to get you to make those noises he knew were better than porn and would get any man weak, especially the one on the other side of the wall.

And it didn’t take long before you were doing just that underneath him, moaning languidly, indulgently, desperately with each deep, slow thrust, and you sounded so good it made him light-headed, and he was already inside of you.

When he felt like he had given Seungmin enough of a reason to start touching himself, he slowly picked up the pace, thrusts a little shallower but more powerful, and you groaned out beautifully at the different stimulation.

He leaned down to capture your lips with his, swallowing your sweet noises with every swipe of his tongue into your mouth. He knew that he needed to pull back if he wanted Seungmin to hear, but he didn’t care. You were his first and he needed to feel you everywhere. And when he finally did pull back he was rewarded with the sight of your fucked out eyes full of love, sweet whimper dripping from your swollen lips.

His dick was throbbing already, but he willed himself away from his orgasm, the payoff oh so sweet on the horizon.

It didn’t take long before he could hear the headboard of his bed slightly rock against the wall. Your hands were clawing at his hips and ass, and he took the cue, starting to drill into you in long and deep thrusts. You let out a filthy string of curses that ended with “thank you, daddy” and he could swear he heard something drop to the floor on the other side of the wall.

The bed was squeaking under him, the headboard hitting the wall, the sound of his hips slamming into yours ringing through the room; it was all so obscene it drove him absolutely wild. The evidence of your combined desire, your lust, your devotion to each other ringing through the air so clearly, it gave him a heady high.

You were squirming underneath him, hands reaching out for him, pulling him down to your mouth and threading into his hair. He lets it happen for a second before he pulls back and slaps your cheek again.

“Don’t be so greedy, baby,” he spits out as your head lolls back. He slaps you again on the same cheek, and a strangled yell tears from your throat.

“You’ll take what I give you, when I give it to you.”

He lands one last slap on your reddening face, and he can feel your cunt gushing and clenching around him.

“Dumb little baby, you know I know what’s best for you,” he sneers, but his eyes are full of love for you, as they are always when you’re like this, letting yourself go entirely, putting your body into his hands. All for him, him, him. It drives him crazy.

It’s rare that he’s this mean to you, but you seem to be getting off on it like you never have before, and maybe it’s because you too suspect that this is the kind of show Seungmin would like.

At the thought of Seungmin, he growls out and starts rutting into you harder, angling his hips so he’s hitting the spongy spot deep inside of you, and you almost yell out in pleasure when he first hits it, a litany of curses falling from your lips.

He pushes your hips down and keeps pounding into you like a man possessed, sweat starting to bead on his body, the slap of your skin getting louder and wetter by the second. The headboard is slamming against the wall in earnest now, and if Seungmin was going to leave, he would’ve heard it by now. So clearly, he is still on the other side.

“So good, ‘m so close,” you whine out, and he presses his lips to yours again in a messy, wet kiss.

“I’ll be nice, I won’t ask you to hold it, kitten,” he purrs at you, and you clench around him again. “Cum on my cock, kitten.”

It’s an order your body obeys almost automatically, your back arching and a whine ripping out of your throat as you cream around him, pushing a white ring of your arousal to the base of his cock.

It takes everything in him not hurtle over the edge as well, but he wants more, wants you sobbing about his cock so loud Seungmin can hear. He wants him to know that he can fuck his girl better than Seungmin can ever even dream of fucking anyone. So he keeps rutting into you, with an unrelenting pace.

“Too much,” you whimper before a breathy moan escapes you.

“Sounds you like when it’s too much, kitten, besides, I’m not done yet,” he snarls.

Your overstimulated cunt flutters around him as you whine out, and he watches your hands start grabbing at the sheets, a first tear rolling down your cheeks.

“Daddy, please,” you beg, and it makes his cock throb.

“Please what, kitten?” he responds, and it’s almost gentle. He can’t be mean to you anymore, not when you’re being so good for him.

“Are you going to cum again for me, angel? I know you have it in you, I can feel it,” he coos at you and at an especially harsh thrust you finally sob out, tears slipping down your cheeks. He can feel his balls tightening at the sight.

“I will, daddy, for you,” you babble and your head lolls to the side as another wave of wetness floods his cock.

You’re already tightening around him again, and he’s about to lose it so he redoubles his effort, slamming into your sweet spot at an angle he knows drags against your walls just right before he brings his fingers down and rubs your clit in tight little circles. He can feel his own sanity slowly slipping as you’re loudly sobbing in pleasure underneath him.

“Come on, baby, make daddy cum inside you, let me fill you up real good,” he rasps out, mind fuzzy with his own approaching orgasm. You drag your nails down his abs before your hand finds his again and you interlace your fingers with his sweetly.

“Ah, fuck, angel, you’re my one and only, you can take it like no other,” he starts babbling as you clench and clench around him, “give me another, come on, drench my cock.”

And that’s all it takes for you to cum again, sobs and moans tumbling from your pretty lips as you squeeze him so tight he hurls straight over the edge, pleasure hitting him like a truck, making his vision fuzzy as he keeps spilling deep inside you, his orgasm feeling never ending.

He doesn’t know exactly how he managed to get there, but when his vision clears up, he’s collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily underneath him as your fingers thread through his hair soothingly.

“Good God,” he breathes out as he tries to push himself up, but he can barely muster the strength.

He makes eye contact with you, and you’re still a little glassy, but you smile at him, so blissfully his heart skips a beat.

“I know,” you giggle, and it makes you clench around his softening, overstimulated dick that’s still inside of you. He curses and gently pulls out before collapsing next to you, pulling you into this side.

“That certainly was a show,” he mumbles, and you just hum in agreement.

“It worked, too, I heard him cum the moment you did,” you say with a wicked grin, “made a really pathetic little noise, too.”

Minho feels petty pride flood his chest. Seungmin getting off to them having sex makes the man who basically called his girl a whore nothing more than a dirty little perv.

He pulls you closer and presses a kiss into your hair.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know,” he whispers, and his chest aches with how much he means it.

You turn in his grasp, looking up at him with wide eyes, before you smile at him gently and pull him in for a kiss. It’s slow and lazy and your skin is slightly sticking together, but you don’t care, moulding against each other deeper and deeper, like you want to disappear into each other’s skin.

“I love you, too, loverboy,” you mumble when you finally pull back after what feels like an eternity. He kisses you one more time before he untangles from you.

“Let me get you cleaned up and make us some breakfast,” he says gently and gets up, getting a towel and wiping you down gently. He throws the towel into the hamper, puts on his boxers and t-shirt and pads to the kitchen, where he puts on some rice and cracks two eggs into a pan.

Before long, he hears Seungmin’s door open, and he turns around. Seungmin briefly looks at him before he avoids his eyes, clearly surprised by Minho’s presence in the kitchen.

“Oh hey, I didn’t realise you were back already,” Minho greets him nonchalantly.

“Hey, uh, yeah, got back, uh, earlier,” Seungmin stammers out and Minho smirks to himself. Seungmin is still standing like he’s rooted to the spot, unsure of what to do.

“Want some breakfast?” Minho asks him, and he feels like he can hear the gears in Seungmin’s head turning.

“S … sure,” he finally mumbles out in defeat and sits down at the table, pulling out his phone. Minho adds another egg to the pan.

As it’s sizzling, Minho hears his door open and Seungmin clear his throat, fidgeting in his seat. You pad out of his room barefoot, his shirt hanging on your frame, though he’s pretty sure you’re no longer wearing his boxers anymore, but your own panties. You seem to have brushed your hair, but your lips are kiss bitten and your tits and perky nipples are clearly visible through the fabric. He smirks at you, and you smirk back like you know exactly what you’re doing as you make your way over to him.

“Oh hey, Seungmin, back already?” You casually greet Seungmin at the table before you come to stand behind Minho, wrapping your arms around his waist. Minho would bet good money that Seungmin is staring at your ass.

While he’s plating up the food, Minho pulls you around him so you’re standing in front of him, his arms working around you, your ass pressed into his crotch where he’s already half hard again. He places a wet kiss on the side of your neck before turning around to slide the bowl over to Seungmin, who is trying to look anywhere but you or the tent in Minho’s boxers, and murmurs out a thank you before he escapes into his room.

When his door closes, you start giggling and Minho joins in as he hands you your bowl and pulls you back into his room.

skzms' masterlist // ko-fi

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

⛓️˚₊‧⁺⋆♱ ruin me - part I lee know x f!reader

In his dirtiest, deepest fantasies, you know exactly what he wants. You run your pretty fingers along his jaw, down his throat, letting your nails drag over his skin dangerously. You stare at him like you’re ready to devour him whole, and then you wrap your hand around his throat and squeeze until his vision fuzzes out at the edges. You force him onto the bed, rip his clothes off until he’s bared to you in all his desperation, maybe make him get on all fours, push his face into the sheets as you inspect his hole. And, God, he begs, begs until his throat is raw, promises you anything for just one touch. OR perv!bsf!minho finds your panties. temptation is too strong.

word count: 4k words

author's note: the second part of this is basically almost done and will be dropping in the next couple of days, but I needed to separate them for pacing reasons. the second part is ... long. for reasons that will become apparent at the end of this. also this is pretty filthy, so heed warnings!

warnings: this a perv!skz thing so Minho’s being weird and pushing boundaries, please don’t see this as a model of healthy behaviour; mention of food and being full in a sexy way because this may be perv!Minho but he’s still Minho; panty stealing; masturbation; male squirting; choking and breathplay by himself (DON'T!!!); fantasizing about degradation, praise, more choking, painplay; dacryphilia; one mention of breeding; implied butt stuff (m receiving)

link to part 2

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

Ten seconds. Ten seconds is all it took.

One, you disappearing into the bathroom to find your bracelet.

Two, Minho scuffing his foot into the plush carpet next to your bed and spotting something peeking out from under the bed frame.

Three, a single shift of his weight from one foot to the other, to see what it was.

Four, a realisation that made his mouth go dry and his heart skip a beat.

Five, six, seven, his body moving before his brain could stop him.

Eight, nine, clammy hands shoving the material into the pocket of his jeans, next to his traitorous cock that was already filling out.

Ten, you walking out of your bathroom, pretty and glowing like the main character in a movie as you slot your earring into place, shirt riding up enough to expose a sliver of soft waist, jeans digging into the pudge of your stomach in a way that makes Minho’s stomach lurch with need.

A few steps of your pretty socked feet on the hardwood, a smile up at him, looking at him through your lashes, offering him your wrist, your bracelet dangling between your fingers. Minho is glad he manages to hold your gaze, glad his fingers aren’t shaking, and his body doesn’t betray him when your chest keeps rising and falling, tits so close to his fingers that he could brush against them if he straightened them out. He takes a deep breath, is overwhelmed with the smell of you, your shampoo, your perfume. His cock is half hard, his guts pulsing with the same gut-wrenching desire you pull out of him all the time without even trying, only this time it’s made more deliciously maddening by the knowledge of what he’s hiding in his pocket.

Your panties. Black, simple, only a little lacy around the edges, crushed up in a ball in the left pocket of his blue jeans, burning a hole into his skin, a hole into his conscience, where guilt and unbearable desire swear to rob him off his sanity, as he struggles to be even half coherent as he flips the meat on the grill at your favourite KBBQ place.

Of course, he grills it for you. He would worship the ground you walk on, if he could – but you don’t know that, so he settles for grilling your meat and watching you eat well, preening at the happy, satiated grin on your face when you’re done, resisting the urge to reach across the table to wipe a smear of grease off the corner of your mouth or let his hand drag over your full, undoubtedly warm, soft belly to slip between your legs and caress a full-body orgasm out of your warm, –

He has to shake himself out of it, has to will his cock back to the half chub he’s been sporting all day that has only been controlled by his willpower and his willpower alone, has to force himself to put one foot in front of the other when the food and the two shots of soju have mellowed you into a clingy, sleepy version of you that holds on to his bicep as you walk, head resting against his shoulder in a way that he knows will leave the smell of your hair ingrained there for exactly two hours, long enough for two orgasms, rubbed out of his cock, burning with guilt and shame and so much desire it makes his world feels like it tilts on its axis and makes him sob into his pillow when the high fades …

He almost forgets about the panties, mind entirely elsewhere on the cold walk from your place to his after dropping you off, thinking about you, yes, but also Doongie’s birthday, as he toes off his shoes in the hallway, drops his coat on the hook, wonders whether cats feel their own age at all and if they know why humans give them presents and the good wet food once a year …

Until he stands in the middle of his bedroom, reaches into his pockets for his phone, his wallet, his keys, ready to peel off his pants and shove the shoulder of his sweater under his nose and finally take care of his half hard, aching cock when he reaches into his pocket and his fingertips meet cotton.

His hands are shaking when he pulls them out of his pocket, and it only takes him one look before he flings them onto his bed and takes a shaky few steps back, his heart thundering in his chest.

They’re not washed. They’re worn.

They’re worn

His cock pulses between his legs, his stomach coiling with so much desire it nearly makes him double over. He digs his fingers into the wood of the dresser behind him.

Somewhere deep within him, his conscience rebels, strikes the alarm. Tells him that he shouldn’t do this, that he should know that once he gets a taste of this, he won’t be able to go back. That he’s fucked in the head and that he knows it, that he’ll be digging through your dirty clothes hamper before the next week is up to get more, more, more, because he’ll wrap them around his cock and smear his release all over the residue of your pussy, and he’ll never be able to forget the taste of it once he has it on his tongue.

He wars with himself like that for what feels like hours, until the sun has sunk way past the horizon, shrouding his room in darkness until the offending material is nothing but a dark shadow on his bedsheets. Standing at the other end of his room, as far away from his bed as possible, gnawing at his bottom lip, but he knows he’s delaying the inevitable.

He knows his fate was sealed the moment he reached under the bed and stuffed the panties in his pocket.

His legs don’t feel like his own when he slowly walks over, sinks onto his bed. Blindly, he feels around for the thing that has been tormenting him. When his fingers find lace, he crushes the panties into his hand with an iron grip. His legs part slightly. His chest feels tight. Arousal makes his brain feel foggy, until everything fades, except the one thing that’s always there, in every waking thought — you.

In his more tame fantasies, he takes what he can get. He imagines kissing you, maybe, if he lets himself go where he shouldn’t, he imagines you kissing him. Shoving your pretty pink tongue that he’s only ever gotten greedy glimpses of when you were eating or taking a sip from your coffee, right into his mouth. He’d probably drool all over himself, but you’d like it. You’d climb into his lap and his hands would be shaking once he finally got to touch you. But touch you, he would. He would commit every inch of you to memory. He would push his fingers into you, rub an orgasm out of you, suck your juices off his fingers and not wash his hands just so he could rub them against his nose for the next 24 hours while he jerked his cock raw.

But here, in the darkness of his room, with the black lace of your panties crushed between his fingers, he lets himself venture where he doesn’t often let himself go, where it’s too dangerous. Because if he let himself believe that you could give him what he really wants, his hopes would get too strong to contend with reality, threatening to distort it and warp it until the tenuous grasp he has on his sanity, on his sick and twisted and unrequited love for you, slipped right through his fingers.

Because in his dirtiest, deepest fantasies, you know exactly what he wants. You run your pretty fingers along his jaw, down his throat, letting your nails drag over his skin dangerously. You stare at him like you’re ready to devour him whole, and then you wrap your hand around his throat and squeeze until his vision fuzzes out at the edges. You force him onto the bed, rip his clothes off until he’s bared to you in all his desperation, maybe make him get on all fours, push his face into the sheets as you inspect his hole. And, God, he begs, begs until his throat is raw, promises you anything for just one touch.

He likes to imagine, how you’d render every gram of muscle he’s worked so hard on in the gym useless. How you’d make him feel like he’s nothing. Smaller than small. Just a vehicle for your pleasure. Maybe you’d condescend to calling him pretty. Run your sweet, deadly fingers over the arch of his nose, stare down at his lips without touching until he’s shivering. Reduce him to tears with just one look of those eyes he has the privilege of being seen by, without ever truly being seen. He doesn’t want you to just see him. He wants you to see everything, wants to be bared to your intelligent eyes — he wants you to see him for what he is. Pathetic. Dirty. Perverted.

Wrong.

And he wants you to punish him for it.

He doesn’t know when he raised his hand, when he brought the balled up underwear in his hand to his face, but the first whiff of it is life-changing, earth-shattering, makes his world turn upside down and his eyes roll into back of his head, his back hitting the sheets as he shoves it against his nose so hard it almost hurts and inhales again.

It’s sweet. Tangy. A little sour, maybe, because you were probably wearing them all day. Maybe some sweat mixed in with the sweet slick from your pussy. The thought alone makes Minho’s hips jump off the bed pathetically, chasing the pressure of his own hand. He often wonders what your pussy looks like. He only saw the outline of it once, when you were wearing leggings, thoughtlessly leaning over the side of the sofa to grab your phone before you were heading out. Your ass, round and perfect, then, leading down, a little V. Two lips, and a little space in between, where the head of his cock could fit so prettily. He jacked off so often to the thought of filling that little space with his cum that his dick was chafed raw, and he could barely meet your eyes. But no matter what he imagines it to look like, he knows it wouldn’t matter to him – it would be as gorgeous as you are, no doubt, wet and glistening and hot, and he’d worship it, if he was just given the chance.

He takes a ragged breath, chest rising in barely controllable tremors, and lets go of the panties, lets them drop on the pillow next to his bed, in favour of torturously slowly trailing his free hand over his clothed chest – the depraved, limitless part of himself already slipping into a place where he can imagine it’s your hand instead of his – until his fingers find the cool metal of the necklace around his neck.

You gave him this necklace, almost a year ago now, for his birthday. It’s a simple thing, a sturdy, a thick chain, shining, real silver, long enough to rest just between his collarbones, a decorative closure, a little thin stick that is threaded through a ring to hold it in place. And Minho knows that’s all it is – a present, a thing you picked out because you thought it would go well with his oversized shirts and thick hoodies, short enough to not get in the way too much when dancing, not expensive enough to be too precious to wear.

But to Minho, it’s so much more. To Minho, the necklace isn’t as much of a necklace. It’s a collar. He wears it not for a fashion statement, but out of a devotion to you that only he knows about. He wears it every day, barely takes it off, his skin itching when he has to, at airport security, a hysterical kind of calm settling back into his bones when it’s back around his neck. He touches it when he sees your name light up his phone screen, or when he thinks of you while he’s out with his friends. But most often, he pulls at it when he’s right here, on his bed, one hand wrapped around his cock, tugging until the metal cuts into the back of his neck and he can feel his devotion to you with every sting of pain.

The necklace snags against his skin and the pain singes a path through his body, a light tremor that runs from the tips of his toes all the way to the crown of his head, makes his cock pulse with the neglect.

He’s been hard for so long that his cock hurts, where it’s confined in his jeans, and he feels his control slipping so fast it’s almost scary. His hand trails an absentminded path down his stomach, until his fingertips graze the bulge in his jeans, thick and hot, just how you’d like it, and the thought of you, makes him burn. You wouldn’t want him to give in so quickly. You’d make him wait.

He squeezes his cock so hard it hurts – his back arching, cock spurting more precum into his boxers, a sob tearing out his throat.

Oh, Minho.

Your voice, molten caramel crawling up his chest, coiling around the skin of his throat, a moan around a piece of meat becoming something entirely else here in the safety of his room. He digs his nails into the jean material of his bulge. Chokes out a ragged breath.

A soft giggle. Nobody does it like you. You’ve ruined me for everyone else.

He whimpers, blindly, desperately fumbles around his pillows until he finds the delicate material of your underwear again. He crushes them against his face and takes a greedy inhale, and the battle with his self-control is lost. His back arches off the bed again, his hand grinds down on his cock and the friction kicks him into motion.

He shoves his clothes off frantically, sits up only enough to rip his shirt and hoodie over his head at the same time, before flopping back down into the pillows. He drags a heavy, burning hand down until he can pop the button of his tight, tight, way too tight jeans, shucks them down, off, kicks them off the bed and then he’s finally naked.

He falls back. He’s exposed, body twitching and hot, every nerve ending on fire, just lying there on his bed, in the dark. The room is quiet except for his heaving chest. On the street, a car is passing. Minho shivers, whimpers into the darkness. He aches.

The cool air of the room makes goosebumps break out all over his body, but he doesn’t move to cover himself up. He lets them make another full-body tremor rack through him. His cock is heavy and hot and wet against his lower stomach, and he parts is legs, exposes himself further to the emptiness of his room, imagines it’s you he’s exposing himself to.

He shoves your underwear back to his nose and smoothes his hand down over his chest, first his palm, then the tip of his finger brushing over his sensitive nipple. The moan he lets out is dampened by the cotton, but the room is dead silent, and it slices through the darkness. It’s so loud, so needy, entirely humiliating. It’s perfect. He moans again.

His chest is sensitive, always has been. He came just from playing with it, once, cock entirely untouched, only his fingers brushing over his nipples until he nearly screamed with sensitivity. He wonders if you’d like it, that he’s sensitive. If you’d touch him there softly, brushing your fingers over him until he goes insane with pleasure. Or if you’d be mean, if you’d pinch them and twist them, laugh at him when he cries. His hand drags down his belly when he imagines your lips around his nipple, calling him your sweet, sensitive boy.

His hand curls around his cock when the you in his head bites his nipple and laughs at him. The pleasure of his hand finally curling around himself rockets pleasure through him and his cock spurts so much precum he thinks for a second that he already came – though when he pumps himself once, the hot, heavy weight of arousal in his guts tells him he hasn’t.

Already made such a mess, you purr, what are we going to do with such a needy little boy?

Minho sniffles into the silence of the room. And he is a mess already, his stomach covered in rapidly, uncomfortably cooling precum, the hand on his cock sliding with how wet it already is. It’s humiliating. He wishes you could see. Fuck, he wishes you were here.

What is heartache but a different kind of pain. He somehow manages to rip his hand from his cock, fisting it into the sheets, relishing in the way his whole body shakes, his knees knock together, try to create friction, and he howls into the room.

It’s like you’re a spectre. He can almost feel the weight of your body when he imagines you crawling over him, straddling his waist, can imagine it’s the plush of your ass when he pushes his cock up from his abdomen with his hands.Blindly, he scrambles for one of his

pillows, let’s go off the panties, only for long enough to fold the pillow in half and wrap it around his cock. The softness, the coolness of the material, they’re a relief on his burning, aching skin. He can’t help but think that this is what it would be like to touch you. Cool fingers, soothing the way his body burns. A salve on the open wound that is his desire for you.

A first tear rolls down his cheek, and he grinds his hips up and oh god he isn’t gonna last, he isn’t gonna last at all.

The wetness seeps into the pillows, and it’s slightly uncomfortable, only makes him sob with how much better he knows you’d feel. You, sitting on his cock, pussy snugly wrapped around him. He imagines the lips of them, rubbing against his shaft with every lift of your hips. The button of your clit, wet, glistening, red, little, and needy for his touch. The cream of you coating his cock. Spit pools in his mouth. He grips the pillow in one hand, brings the other back to his face so he can shove your underwear against his nose, and lets go.

It’s pathetic, so fucking pathetic, the way he starts humping the pillow, the way his back arches and his mattress squeaks with every thrust into the softness that doesn’t quite squeeze him the way he wants to be squeezed, sucked into your warm body, milked until he’s breeding you full of his cum.

He half screams, half sobs, his release so close he can almost taste it, when his heel slips on his sheets, makes his cock slip out of the pillow and his hips lose their rhythm. It’s devastating. His body screams for more, for friction, heat, a hole to sink his cock into. He inhales, feels the tart sweetness of your scent cover his tastebuds and somehow, he manages to flip himself over. The pillow is still below his hips, but the fold of it is long forgotten, his cock now just trapped between it and his abdomen.

He falls forward onto his elbow, black lace still clutched against his face, and he grinds his cock down hard.

The friction is so good, so much better than on his back, and he loses the last dregs of his dignity/ With his face buried in your underwear, his back hunched, he allows his hips to do what they need to, to chase the friction, no matter how fast and hard and uncoordinated, desperate whimpers torn from his lips with every drag of cotton against the sensitive head of his cock.

There are no scenarios playing in his head, any more, no words he wishes you were saying, only the heavy, unignorable sense, the presence of you that haunts him day and night, and the brutal, cold hard truth of him, in his dark room, furiously humping his pillow with your dirty underwear pressed to his nose, every inhale a desperate gasp, every exhale a pathetic moan.

His arm gives out, and he falls forwards into the sheets, panting desperately, his face buried in your panties, his free hand snaking between his legs, wrapping around his cock in a tight fist, the other reaching behind his head, taking a hold of the necklace and pulling, until he can feel it constrict his airways.

He comes two seconds later. With his face buried in your panties, his hand still wrapped around the necklace, his lungs fighting for air, every shaky inhale sending more of your smell through his system, he crashes over the edge with such an intensity that his vision whites out for a second. Distantly, he hears himself scream into his sheets, toes curling, body locking up as he spills, hot and wet, all over his hand, his pillow, his abdomen. And he keeps cumming, his cock spurting wetness all over himself until he seriously wonders if he’s peeing himself, and also if he’s about to pass out, until he realises he’s still holding the necklace in a vice grip. He lets go.

He rears up, gasps for air, gulps it down, his hand helplessly falling into the sheets, his sensitive cock still dripping, every brush of it against the pillow underneath him making little jolts run through his body.

And it takes him a good few minutes to come down, his consciousness floating somewhere five feet above his head. His lucidity comes back to him slowly, but still too painfully fast.

The first thing that becomes awfully clear is his posture. His body, hunched over the pillow that’s still bunched between his thighs, absolutely drenched in his cum. His chest, still heaving slightly, pressed into the sheets.

Then, he realises his face is still smushed into your panties. They’re right underneath his face, on his pillow.

Oh, and he’s drooling. Fuck.

He tries to get himself upright, but his arm nearly gives out, then his leg does, and he tumbles onto his side, cursing in pain when he tries to straighten his leg and a dull ache shoots through his body. He reaches down, past his wet, sticky abdomen, tries to massage feeling back into his calves, and he waits. He waits patiently for what he knows is the next step of the all too familiar process of coming down from one of his manic jerk-off sessions. The shame.

But before it can kick in, his phone rings. But it’s not his normal ringtone. No, it’s the one he set for you. You’re calling. The thought hits him like it’s the bell, and he’s pavlov’s dog.

He scrambles out of bed, his legs still aching and half asleep, and he almost faceplants straight into the floor, catches himself, and crawls over to where his phone is vibrating in the pockets of his jeans.

He rips it out of his pocket, hits accept, and lets himself thunk back onto the floor with a groan.

There’s silence on the other side of the phone. But he can hear you breathing. Steadily, in, out, in, out.

He’s cold. Shivering. The comedown is hitting him.

Finally, you speak.

“Something of mine has gone missing …”

The tone of your voice, the quiet, knowing rasp, makes Minho gasp out a desperate moan, so loud there’s no doubt in his mind that you heard. The knowledge makes his oversensitive body tremor.

“And if you’re a good boy and tell me where it’s gone, I won’t have to punish you.”

link to part 2

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

Roommate: Chan x Reader

Roommate Chan who wants to help you destress with a massage after a long day... Content: Just straight-up smut Warnings: Fingering, praise, degradation, a little humiliation WC: 1100

You were laying on the couch with Chan. 

Chan has been your roommate for some time and your friend for longer than you could remember, so to be sprawled across the couch, limbs somewhat intertwined and a movie to be played in the background was nothing unfamiliar. Especially after a long day at work, taking the time to unwind together was nothing new. 

But today you were just so tense. Stiff all over, muscles tense and sore, you were unable to find relief. You suppose that your gym workout from yesterday had been a little intense, and you were certainly feeling it now. 

Subconsciously as you watched, you started to punch your legs a little bit, trying to get the tightened muscles to relax. 

Chan’s hands shot out and grabbed your own, making you freeze. 

“What are you doing, babygirl?” He sounded concerned but the nickname made sparks fly through your body. 

“Nothing,” you say, trying to explain it away. Of course, Chan would never let that happen. 

He doesn’t let go of his grasp on your hand. “You call punching your legs ‘nothing?’” He inquires. 

“My legs are just a little sore,” you sigh. “It was leg day yesterday.” 

“Ahhh,” he says, as if that explains everything. Maybe it did. His eyes are back on the screen, but his hands are grabbing your legs to place them over his lap, pulling you even closer to him.  

“What are you–” 

“Shhh, helping,” he says. His big, strong hands are on your legs now, his dexterous fingers working into your muscles. You let out a sigh of relief as you feel him working away the tension, his thumbs moving over your thighs to rub deep yet gentle circles into your skin.  You’re aware of every movement, however, and you hate how flustered his actions have you. Chan never shied away from physical touch, and he’s even given you a brief platonic shoulder massage before. As your roommate, of course he’s seen you in more vulnerable scenarios, seeing into the more casual or intimate aspects of your life, but this… you couldn’t help but stare at the man who seemed so unfazed. 

As he rubs into a particularly sore area, you let out a tiny groan. 

“Feels good?” he asks, a small smirk splaying across his features but his eyes glued to the screen. 

You nod your head. The tone of his voice has arousal running through your entire body and your breath hitches as he moves higher, still only mid-thigh. You hope he doesn’t catch your reaction–surely he won’t, he’s not even watching you.  

Lightly he slaps the inside of your thigh, causing you to gasp. “Use your words,” he scolds. 

“Yes,” you answer, too fast. “Feels good, Chan.” 

“Good girl,” he praises, though the way he coos the words makes it feel less like a compliment. Your eyes stay glued to him and the way he stays unaffected; his words make you squeeze your thighs together lightly, searching for a little relief. What you weren’t expecting was for him to grab the flesh of your thigh hard between his fingers, causing you to let out a moan. 

“Such a filthy girl,” he says. “Here I am trying to give you a massage and make you feel good but you’re over here having dirty thoughts, aren’t you?” His hand stays between your legs, rubbing your inner thigh but not making its way higher. You squeeze your legs harder, trapping his hand between your legs. 

“Need you, Chan. Touch me, please?” You decide to just say it, just needing to get past the hurdle knowing it will be worth it. He doesn’t let up as easily as you think though. 

“Oh? But I am touching you, sweet girl,” he says, pinching your inner thigh and causing you to spread them open for him. “Or are you talking about your needy pussy?” He trails his hand up, resting it against your clothed core. You nod your head unabashedly and he laughs at your excitement. His eyes are on you now, finally, and you burn under his gaze. You watch as he pushes the fabric to the side and dips his fingers shallowly into your entrance, gathering your arousal on his fingers. He pulls out to show you how soaked his fingers are. 

“Look how wet you are for me, baby,” he praises. “My sweet, dirty girl is so needy for me, all from a little touching.” 

“Just for you,” you confirm, and you watch him take a deep breath, affected by your words. Sliding his hands back down to your center, he gathers more of your arousal and spreads it around your clit, circling slowly around the area with his fingers. It’s obvious from his stare that he is more than alright with taking his time with you, relishing in the way that you fall apart on his fingers. He hisses when you spread your legs open wide for him, giving him full access. He moves fast, grabbing your shorts and ripping them off of your body. When you close your legs again he tuts, grabbing them and forcing them wide open for him, slotting his body in between your legs. 

“Such a pretty pussy,” he says. He slides two fingers into your entrance now, shallowly fucking his fingers in and out of you. “Such a slutty pussy, for me.” You relinquish control and let him take over, submitting to the urge to arch your back and let out a loud moan. He continues to babble about how he can’t believe he’s waited for so long to have you like this, how he’s been thinking of touching your pussy for so long, and you start to tremble beneath him. 

“Chan,” you say, trying to warn the man, but he shushes you. 

“I got you,” he says. He shoves his fingers into you deeper but doesn’t change his pace, curling his fingers. “Let go for me.” That’s all you need to find your release, completely coming apart for him on his fingers. He sweet talks you right through your orgasm, slowing his movements. 

You watch as he pulls his fingers out of you, looking deep into your eyes as he puts his fingers into his mouth and sucks. “So sweet,” he says, more to himself than to you. He reaches over your body for the remote, clicking the power button and turning off the device. The action makes you laugh. 

“What?” he laughs with you. “Don’t act like you were actually watching that, I definitely wasn’t.” You scoff at his words and screech as he picks you up, cradling you into his chest. 

“Your room or mine?”  ***

Author's note: Sorry not sorry for the double Chan post, he is my bias though so don't be surprised...

Masterlist Recs

Snap: Minho x Reader x Jisung

After your boyfriend decides to punish you by not touching you for two weeks, you take matters into your own hands. There's one way to make him snap, and that is Han Jisung. Content: Smut. That's it. Warnings: Heavy degradation, humiliation, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum eating, fingering, dom/sub dynamics, choking, complicated feelings WC: 3500

You should have known not to test your boyfriend. 

Your boyfriend Minho is one of the best things that has ever happened to you. He is sweet, kind, forgiving, and so so patient with you. 

Ever since you have been dating, he has done an amazing job to make sure you feel loved, whether that be through smaller gestures like baking food with you or writing notes, or buying you flowers and taking you out on the best dates of your life. He is thoughtful and caring, and you both love each other very much. 

The other great thing about Minho is this other side of the world he has helped you to explore… sexually, that is. He introduced you to the world of doms and subs and your relationship has absolutely thrived on that dynamic. Because for that gentle, loving and caring boyfriend that you get to see during the day… you also get to see the exact opposite. Minho, who will take no bullshit. Minho, who can edge you for hours on end and knows exactly which buttons to push to get you to fall apart for him. Minho, who can wrap his hand around your throat and whisper the filthiest, most vulgar things in your ears to try to get you to submit to him. 

Lee Minho, your boyfriend, is an enigma. Better yet, he is yours.

Which is why you know that you can get away with pushing him to his limits the same way that he pushes you to yours. 

That’s sort of how you got yourself into your current situation. 

 Because, maybe one day you decided to push him, and he might have caught you touching yourself in your bed when you weren’t supposed to. And when he tried to give you your punishment, you had an orgasm without his permission. Fast forward to your new punishment: He hasn’t touched you in two weeks. 

Sometimes, you feel like your boyfriend has turned you into a sex-craved machine. But, who can blame you? It’s not your fault that your boyfriend has a body sculpted by the Gods and an even sexier personality. You swore on your life you would never beg and be desperate for a man. And then came Minho. 

During the past two weeks, you have felt absolutely deprived and horny out of your goddamn mind. He knew it, too. He saw the way that you would squeeze your legs together whenever he sat next to you, the way you would squirm, the way that your eyes would get blown out and your breathing heavy… and he didn’t even have to touch you. It was a mind game, and you were losing badly. 

So, that’s how you came up with your awful idea; push Minho to the breaking point and watch him snap. It was a win/win, really. Not only would your punishment end, but maybe you could get him angry enough to have the rough, hard, toe-curling sex you’ve been craving. You just needed to wait for the right opportunity… and it practically fell into your lap. 

Movie night with Han Jisung. 

Jisung is Minho’s best friend. The two are practically inseparable, bonded with a connection deeper than words could describe. Of course, Jisung was at one point one of your best friends as well, as he was the one that introduced you to your boyfriend in the first place. That’s how you know that the way to get to Minho is through Jisung. 

It started with making dinner, the three of you. It’s a weekly tradition, Friday nights eating homemade dinner and watching cheesy movies. This week is your pick, too. It was almost like all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. 

You laugh at Jisung’s jokes. Of course, Minho laughs too, but you make a point to laugh harder than you should, slapping your hand onto his shoulder. “Jisung, you are so funny,” you laugh. “I forgot how funny you are. We should hang out more!” 

That causes the man to let out a shy chuckle, throwing his hand behind his head sheepishly. You look over at your boyfriend and smile at him brightly. 

That night, you make sure to leave lingering touches on Jisung’s body. You reach into the popcorn bowl at the same time as him, grazing his knuckles with your fingers. You swipe a piece of stray hair behind his ear. You even drape your legs across his lap completely during the movie. It always leads to a light laugh from him and a blush that spreads across his cheeks, his eyes flickering to Minho’s for approval. Of course, Minho was never looking at him. 

He was looking at you. 

His eyes bore into yours all night, eyes hard and mouth set into a straight line. You really, truly couldn’t tell what he was thinking. But you make a show of looking at him for a reaction every time and smiling at him with big, bright eyes. 

That night, for your movie choice you made sure to pick the raunchiest, sexiest chick flick that you could find. So of course, when a sex scene started playing you shifted your position. Switching the direction of your body, you put your legs on Minho’s lap and your head on Jisung’s thigh, looking up at him with a bright smile. You admire his bright red cheeks, obviously flushed from the situation at hand. 

“Isn’t this a good movie, Sungie?” You giggle, nustling your head against his thigh. That is the breaking point. 

Minho’s hand reaches across the table, snatching the remote. The TV turns off, causing you and Jisung to turn your heads to look at him. 

“Enough,” he said in a low timbre. 

“What?” you ask innocently. That’s when Minho grabbed the flesh of your thigh hard, kneading the muscle. You gasp when he does so, not expecting the action. His hand trails higher and cups your clothed pussy. 

That was something else… you had put on one of the most revealing outfits you owned, clad with a tight tank-top and miniskirt. This gives Minho easy access to slip his hand right where you need him most. 

“Minho, what are you–” 

“Shhh. If you’re going to act like a needy slut, then you’re going to fucking take it.” Your face goes completely red. While you were expecting him to snap, you thought he was going to drag you to your room and fuck the shit out of you. Not in the living room, while your head rests on Jisung’s lap. 

Your eyes shoot up to Jisung’s, who has been staring at you unabashedly this whole time. When your eyes meet, he clears his throat. 

“Um… I should probably go,” he says, making to stand up. 

“Don’t.” Minho’s voice is sharp, causing you both to freeze. At the same time, he slides your panties to the side and thrusts a finger into your core, causing your body to rock back into Jisung. You let out a loud moan–after weeks, you’re finally getting the contact you’ve been desperately craving. Jisung’s hands make way to your shoulders, holding you in place as he looks at Minho. 

“You’re gonna act like you haven’t been loving my girlfriend touching up on you and flirting with you all night? God, it’s so obvious, Sungie,” he laughs, continuing his ministrations and now thrusting two finger in and out of your sopping core. “She’s been acting like a needy, desperate slut for us, though, so I think we should treat her like one, yeah?” 

Jisung gulps. “We? Minho, I–” 

“You want to fuck her, Sungie? You can fuck her tight cunt, she’ll love it, too. And when you’re done, I’m gonna fuck her harder… I’m gonna fuck her better and fill her up so she knows who her pussy really belongs to.” You moan at his words, squirming around trying to get away from the way his fingers bully into your cunt. 

“Please… Jisung,” you say, looking up at him. “Want you to fuck me, too.” And you truly do. You can see the way your boyfriend is getting off on it, the way that he wants to prove to you that he is better. Somehow you could just tell that he wasn’t bothered in the slightest. 

“Yeah, okay. Fuck,” Jisung breaths. 

“Pull down her shirt,” Minho instructs. Jisung immediately follows his directions, as if in a trance, revealing your bare chest to the two men. “Play with her nipples. Pinch them, she likes that.” The feeling of Jisung’s thumbs pinching and pulling harshly against your nipples has you breathless and moaning, because this person touching you wasn’t your boyfriend. It felt so wrong, but with your boyfriend’s attention still on your leaking pussy and his eyes never leaving yours, it felt so right. 

“Fuck, she’s clenching so tight on my fingers,” Minho tells Jisung. “She likes you playing with her, I can feel her getting close.” 

“Yeah?” Jisung stares down and looks at your face, fucked out, and you look at him fucked out out of your mind. Lips parted and eyes glossy, your eyes didn’t leave his. He looked at you with utter adoration, never stopping his motions on your chest. 

“Min, Min… Cumming, fuck,” you breath. Your boyfriend keeps a steady pace, finger fucking you right through your orgasm. As Jisung slows his pace, rubbing slower on your nipples, he pulls off with a harsh tug. 

You sit up, putting your pressure on your arms as you look at Minho who slowly pulls his fingers out of your cunt. Revealing his fingers, he shows Jisung how soaked his fingers are. 

“Want to taste her sweet cunt?” Minho asks with a devilish smirk. Jisung nods his head with doe eyes. 

Minho reaches past your body and extends his hand to Jisung, offering the boy his two fingers. You watch as Jisung parts his lips, Minho sliding the appendage inside. You clench your thighs together at the loud slurping and soft whimper that this elicits from his mouth, eyes shut as he tastes your release. Minho’s gaze hardens, watching him with predatory eyes. When he pulls his fingers out from his mouth, a long string of saliva connects his fingers to Jisung’s mouth, dripping down onto your bare chest. The action makes both you and Jisung moan softly. 

Minho stands, maneuvering your body to the position he wants you in. He puts you on your hands and knees on the couch, ass up and hanging over the edge for easy access. He pulls your underwear down around your knees but keeps the skirt on, opting to flip it up over your body instead. You feel used like this, shirt bunched down around your waist and panties not even fully off your body yet. 

“Come fuck her pussy,” Minho says to Jisung. He stands up fast, moving behind you to position himself at your entrance. Here he has a full view of your cunt, still soaked and glistening from your release. He lets out a shaky breath and looks at Minho for permission, who stands over you and looks down at you. You look up at him almost pathetically, giving him a weak smile. He smirks at you, practically cooing as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Go on,” he says, his voice suddenly turning sharp as he addresses Jisung. “I’m not going to tell you twice.” 

You don’t see Jisung pull his pants down but you feel him poke at your entrance, his tip leaking as he rubs it up and down your folds. You rock your hips back, desperate for the pressure, and hiss when he finally enters you. As soon as he does, he stills, breathing heavy behind you. 

“Fuck… so tight,” he says, more to Minho than to you. He gives a cat-like smirk and gestures for the boy to continue. And so Jisung starts, slowly rocking his hips into you. He grinds up against your ass each time, a grip bruising right on your hips. 

Minho sits down on the couch now in front of you. Here he can look right into your eyes, his gaze harsher than you had ever seen before. 

“Look at you getting your slutty pussy fucked by my friend,” he coos. It feels condescending, and you tilt your head down to look toward the couch when you feel his fingers underneath your chin. He pulls you up to meet his eyes, fingers pinching your cheeks to part your mouth open for him. “Do you know how long he’s been waiting to fuck you for? It’s almost pathetic. He’s wanted your sweet cunt for so long but he could never have it, could he?” You shake your head at him, and Jisung whines from behind you, increasing his pace. 

As Jisung goes harder and you start approaching your release, you look up at Minho with tears pricking your eyes. 

“Close?” He coos. You nod your head. “You gonna cum on his cock?” 

“Please,” you grunt out. “Please Minho.” 

“Go ahead, then.” And it's not until Minho brings your face to his in a wet, messy kiss that you finally finish. You moan into his mouth and he drinks it up, his tongue pushing against yours and into your mouth. Jisung becomes more vocal as well, whiny moans and heavy breathing as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

Minho pulls you off of his lips harshly, looking at his friend behind you. Jisung looks absolutely wrecked and Minho knows it won’t take long to push him over his edge as well. 

“Is her tight pussy clenching around you good?” He asks. He looks at his friend with a proud smirk. Jisung nods, eyes closed and head thrown back. “As good as you imagined? Wanna tell me how good her pussy feels?” 

“S’good,” he says. “So warm and wet… so tight, fuck…” 

Minho stands, walking over to Jisung. He lifts your skirt higher, revealing your bare ass to Jisung. “Go ahead and paint her ass, if you’re gonna cum,” he tells him. 

And with a few more thrusts and a soft ‘fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he pulls out and covers your ass with him cum. You’re covered in it, as he came a lot, and it starts dripping down your body. Minho scoops some of Jisung’s release with two fingers and brings them to your mouth, your lips automatically parting for him. You lick it off of his fingers, looking at him. You’re floating into a soft subspace and he can see it, utterly and completely submissive for him now. You’re pliant and completely at his command. He looks down at you with dark eyes. 

“My turn,” he says. Him and Jisung switch places, promptly. Jisung stares at you with wide eyes and watches your face, the way that you moan when Minho slips into you easily. 

His pace is brutal from the start, his hips snapping into yours relentlessly, his thighs making a loud wet sound as they slap against the backs of yours. A hand grabs at your hair, yanking you upwards to look at Jisung; he gasps when he sees you, mouth wide open and tears streaming down your face as you let out a sob. It’s too much, the overstimulation, the way Minho’s long cock kisses your cervix at every thrust. And he uses the hand in your hair to control you, pulling you back onto his cock with his strong grip. 

“Fuck…ing… pussy… so… good… for… me…,” Minho enunciates with every snap of his hips. 

You’re babbling at this point, too far gone to form any coherent words. “Min… oh my… fuck,” you say. “Jisung, Sungie…” you cry out at one point, his eyes never leaving yours. Even though he’s no longer participating he still watches intently, his lips parted in a soft ‘o’. 

“What are you calling his name for?” Minho taunts. “I’m the one fucking this cunt, not him. Are you so braindead that you don’t know who’s cock you’re calling out for?” 

“No… Min,” you answer. 

“Good, I’m gonna cum in this greedy pussy,” he says. “Only I can fill you up. Only I can breed your filthy cunt,” he says. “Say… fuck, say my name when you cum on my cock, baby.” 

And you do, because your release comes out of nowhere. With a loud cry you’re calling, no, screaming his name, clenching around him impossibly tight. Your orgasm seems to last forever, and you know he can feel the way you’re spasming around him with every thrust. 

When his hand snakes around and grabs the front of your throat, you know he’s close. His hand squeezes tight and you feel dizzy and light-headed, but this floaty feeling has you rolling your eyes to the back of your head in pleasure. 

Minho must be completely gone now, no longer spewing filthy words. He doesn’t say anything as he finally cums inside, grabbing your hips so tight that it’s sure to leave a mark. He stills against you and you can feel his hot release flood you, his cock twitching as he grinds impossibly deeper into your ass, as if he were trying to get his cum as far into you as he can, as if he were trying to mark you as his. 

When he releases his grip on you your body slumps onto the couch. Suddenly you’re weak all over and your body feels limp, vision starting to blur as you look up at Jisung. You notice a large wet stain on his pants, and you realize he must’ve cum again, simply from watching you get fucked within an inch of your life. You let out a soft chuckle and reach for his hand, your fingers weakly intertwining with his and giving him a soft squeeze. 

Arms are scooping you up in an instant, and you open your eyes to see your boyfriend carrying you in his arms, bridal style. 

“I’m going to get her into the bath,” he tells Jisung. 

“Okay. I should… I’m probably going to leave,” he says, voice riddled with uncertainty. 

“You don’t have to,” he replies. You can hear the softness in his tone, the fondness for his best friend coming through in his words. “You don’t have to,” he repeats. 

And though he’s no longer using that domineering tone that had you and Jisung submitting to him in an instant, Jisung still listens to his words. You shoot Jisung a shy smile and wave your fingers at him as you’re carried off into the bathroom. 

Minho is ever the attentive lover, humming as he sits next to you beside the tub. He scrubs your skin gently, rubbing soothing circles into your sore muscles. He pays careful attention when shampooing your hair, making sure not to get any of the soap into your eyes. Your boyfriend Minho is one of the best things that has ever happened to you. He is sweet, kind, forgiving, and so so patient with you. In this moment you’re reminded of that fact, and you feel a twinge of guilt when you’re reminded of the way you acted earlier. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. It’s the first words you’ve spoken since after you had sex. They’re barely loud enough to hear, but you know your words haven’t fallen upon deaf ears when he lets out a soft sigh. 

“You have nothing to apologize for, love,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry for dragging out your punishment for too long. I know you were trying to rile me up and get on my nerves… and it worked. Not for the reason that I thought though. I thought that… I thought that Jisung touching you would make me mad, but the more I thought about it… fuck, the thought of sharing with him what’s mine, to show him ‘this is my beautiful girlfriend that makes me feel so good…’ It was so hot, baby. And I wanted him to touch you. I wanted him to make you feel good, too. He looked so fucked out, and I liked that it was us that made him feel like that, y’know?” 

You smile softly at him. “Min, can I ask you a question?” 

He hums in response. 

“Do you… have feelings for him?” He doesn’t meet your eye, and that’s all the answer that you need. You know that outloud, at least right now, he could never truly admit it, but he didn’t have to. “It’s okay,” you reassure. “Nobody’s faulting you if you do. We don’t have to talk about it right now, okay?” 

Minho wraps you in a towel and dries your skin. His eyes are full of adoration for you. Before you walk into your bedroom, his lips meet yours in a soft kiss. 

That night, the three of you fall asleep in your bed. There’s no discussion to be had about how this complicates your relationship. There’s no words exchanged, there’s no awkward eye contact, and there are no bad thoughts that cloud your mind as you drift to sleep. You listen to Jisung’s soft snoring and the pitter patter of Minho’s heartbeat. You fall asleep warm, intertwined with many limbs, and with a soft smile on your face.  *** Part 2/4 of the threesome series ;) Hope y'all enjoyed Masterlist Recs

Taglist: @lolareadsimagines / let me know if you want to be added to the taglist for this series