I Have No Proof, Absolutely No Proof Behind This Opinion.

I have no proof, absolutely no proof behind this opinion.

But I feel like Kai would just be a boob guy.

That is all.

Tbh I always saw him as an ass guy (maybe just bc I am🤷‍♀️) but this has got me thinking and u honestly might me onto something

He’d be completely obsessed with your tits and always finding an excuse to fuck you hard enough that he can watch them bounce. He’d be sliding into you at all hours regardless of what you’re doing because he wants to see your pretty tits bounce for him and when he fingers you he’ll be using his other hand to smack your tits til they’re and pinch your nipples til they’re swollen and sensitive. He loves to suck on them too, suckling and gently biting them while you’re stuffed full of his fingers.

I see him as a fan of marking and that would definitely be focused on your tits. By the time he’s done with you your whole chest would be littered with bruises and bite marks because yeah, tits make him a little feral and he needs to just sink his teeth into them, no shame in that tbh

If you have any sort of dom/sub relationship going then regardless of which position you both take I can definitely see your tits being used in rewards/punishments etc. If he’s your dom then he’ll hit your tits with a small, smooth stick when you misbehave (professionally made for this purpose, no splinters yall✊), or maybe he’d use hot wax or ice cubes on them while you’re blindfolded. And if you have nipple piercings then good luck to you, because any hint of misbehaviour and he’ll be tugging on them as hard as he can without hurting you, until you’re back in line.

On the other hand, if you’re the dom you could definitely use your tits as a way to keep him in line too, rewarding him by letting him suck or play with them as much as he wants, gosh he’d be the best boy as soon as you tell him he can touch your tits.

In conclusion those tits are his weak spot so use your power wisely because yes you’ve convinced me HES A BOOB GUY🙌

inhibitions • kys

warnings: bdsm club au, talk of bdsm (duh), training, whipping etc. dom yeosang proposing a dynamic a bit too quickly but good intentions

—————

Your eyes are closed and you’ve nearly chewed through your lip, shifting uncomfortably in your seat. Whichever way you sit there always seems to be something jabbing into you somewhere, reminding you of how painfully out of place you are here. You’re not going to find a way to fit in and you’re not going to find a way to sit comfortably. This is the complete wrong place for you, it’s too loud, too crowded, everyone is too familiar with each other— already acquainted, already comfortable and there’s no room for you, no need for you. You’re about to stand up and bolt, or black out, when a hand on your shoulder jolts you awake.

“Hey,” a voice says. It’s pretty, you notice. Deep. “Are you okay?”

“What?” You blurt louder than you mean to, but luckily the noise and, well, entertainment of this place has the other patrons’ attention elsewhere. Heat flooding your cheeks, you stare down at your hands, desperate not to meet the eyes you feel on you. You've already embarrassed yourself and coming to the club is starting to feel like a big mistake. You were naïve to think the atmosphere of a place like this could be portrayed through grainy, recycled twitter porn, and now you’re in too deep. But you swore you’d stick this out and you still haven’t answered the man’s question. “Yeah,” you say finally. “I’m fine.”

You wave him away weakly, embarrassed, but he makes no move to leave, instead taking a seat next to you. His hand ends up laying next to yours and, like his voice, it’s pretty. It looks soft. He must be beautiful.

He sits quietly for a few minutes — or maybe it was seconds, who knows, everything’s a blur in here — before turning to you. “You won’t look up from the bar,” he says. “That doesn’t seem fine. Why?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—”

“You’ll need to speak up,” he says, cutting you short. You want to be annoyed but you can’t help but feel like you’ve just been saved. Whatever. “It’s noisy in here.”

“I don’t know,” you say, louder this time. “You just— I’m nervous. I’m already sort of scared being here and I’m worried you might be… a bit beautiful.” The last word is whispered, shameful. You don't know why you said it.

His laugh is loud but he doesn’t seem to be laughing at you, because you don't feel embarrassed or anything and it doesn’t sound mocking. He’s just genuinely amused by you. And, you dare to think, maybe even curious. “Find out,” he says softly, so you do.

Damn this man, is your next thought, damn him straight to hell. He is beautiful, beyond beautiful, and not in the way you’d expected, both based on his voice and on the sleazy, forbidden atmosphere of this club. He doesn’t belong here. He’s too… angelic.

You realise too late that you haven’t said anything in a while, just sat there gaping at him like some kind of idiot, and feel your face reddening.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m staring at you. I just… you don’t look like the type to be here.”

“Neither do you,” he points out and he’s right. Neither of you, young and admittedly quite attractive, look like you’d be in a borderline sex club.

“Then why are you here?” You ask.

He flashes another small smile at you. “I work here.”

You can’t help the look that crosses your face, though he seems to take no offence by it. He must see it a lot, because by the looks of him, he’d be more suited working as a model, or an idol or something. Not in a BDSM club. Not in a place where ‘working’ can mean being tied up and dominated in front of a crowd.

“In what…capacity?” You ask as delicately as you can.

He knows what you’re getting at. “Don’t worry. They don’t chain me to the ceiling and whip me in front of everyone,” he chuckles. You give a small laugh, feeling yourself starting to loosen up, but the next sentence isn’t so funny. “It tends to be the other way around.”

Oh Christ. Oh Jesus Christ no. You nearly choke on air, because the idea of such an attractive, well-spoken, perfect seeming man working at a place like this, especially in such a… central role, is a little thrilling. Images of him up on that stage, dark and dangerous with a whip in his hand, fill your mind before you can stop it and to your ire, you can’t help but see yourself as the one at his mercy, chained up and taking strikes while the whole club watches. Wow. This man is bad for you.

But it fits him, you think. You imagine he must make a very good dominant, if only based on how meek you feel next to him, and the desire bubbling within you to do what he says, to obey and submit to him. He must be pretty popular here.

“I am,” he laughs when you ask him. “It seems dickish to say it but sometimes they queue for me. ‘S’why I have them book in advance now.”

You want to laugh at him, want desperately not to believe him, but the thought of people lining up to obey this man is frighteningly realistic. And what’s worse — the faces in that hypothetical line look a lot like you.

“So no chance for me tonight then?” You ask with a laugh. “I’m crushed,” you say, and you only kind of mean it.

“Actually, I’m not officially working tonight,” he says, and you dare to perk up a little. “The bookings are normally for my paid services, but on a leisurely basis I can play with whoever I want.”

You jolt. He can play with whoever he wants. Play. You like that word, like the way it sounds on his tongue. Play. He plays with people. You want him to play with you too.

“Would you play with me?” You ask, forcing the words out before you can second guess yourself. “Leisurely?”

He laughs a little but his eyes are serious. “I would.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he says. “But I’ll take a guess that you’re fairly new to this, so I couldn’t do as much as I’d like to today.”

You just nod, trying not to feel too disappointed because you know this is a good sign, the sign of a responsible dominant, and there’s plenty of fun to be had without ropes and whips and gags. Just not as much. “Yeah, that’s fine,” you say. “I understand.”

He stares at you for a second, amused. “You don’t want that though, do you?”

“You know I don’t.”

“Me neither. So let’s strike a deal.”

A deal — you like the sound of that. You nod, bidding him to continue, desperate to hear what he has to say.

“Be mine,” he says, voice low. “On a trial basis. Let me train you. Let me show you what it means to submit. To be owned.”

His words are dizzying and you blank for a second. You already knew what he was getting at but to hear him say it, make the offer so directly, takes you aback. You hope you get used to his forwardness, but for now you’re fine to sit in shock over this beautiful man saying he wants to train you. Like some sort of animal.

You remember the summer in high school when you worked as a dog trainer — teaching the puppies how to behave, showing them commands, rewarding them for completing tasks. And you know the image of you as the dog, being talked down to and conditioned by a man, should be, is demeaning, backwards even, but the feeling low in your stomach betrays you. You want this.

“You’ll train me,” you breathe, needing confirmation.

“I will,” he nods. “If you want me to. Let’s try it out. I know I can make you the perfect pet.”

A rushing sense of pride fills you at his words and you almost feel guilty for it but fuck your moral compass, this is what you need. You’re going to be the best pet for him, and he’s going to take care of you. He’s going to own you.

He doesn’t say anything while you think, watching the gears turn in your head.

“So you’ll be my…dom?” You nearly spit out the last word; it sounds awkward and foreign on your tongue, like you shouldn’t be saying it, shouldn’t even be thinking it. How he can say words like train, submit, pet with the casualness of someone talking about the weather, you have no idea. Maybe that’s why he’s a dom, and you’d be the…sub. You’d be his sub. Fuck.

He nods. “Is that what you want?”

Yes. God yes. You can’t get the words out fast enough. He holds out a hand for you to shake and you realise then that you haven’t even introduced yourself. Talk about getting ahead. Embarrassed again, you mumble your name and he repeats it as if it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard.

“I’m Yeosang,” he says. “Welcome to my world.”

—————

i’m alive, life is kicking my ass lately. i might make this a series but its pretty rough. reblog & comment if u enjoyed :) love🖤

can’t stop won’t stop • minsung

warnings: jisung centric, hard dom jisung (say whaaaaat), minho is lowkey a voyeur in this, degradation, name calling, impact, mentioned orgasm denial, overstimulation, you can’t take it towards the end but you have a safeword, punishment

—————

You’ve fucked up, badly. The moment Jisung told you he isn’t feeling very submissive tonight, you should have known to behave, aware that two dominants versus one brat isn’t a fight you’d win, but you kept pushing. Even when Minho warned you the first time, ordering you to stay still as he pushed into you, you kept pushing. Even when Jisung warned you, your much softer dominant who loves it when you fight back, you kept pushing, kept begging them to do more — begging which turned to demanding, and Minho would have none of it.

“That’s enough, bitch,” he spits as he pulls out. He turns away from you, hand still tight around your neck as he orders Jisung over.

“I already gave her my cock and she still wants to act ungrateful,” he tells him. “So you can fuck her, Jisung. See if you can keep her in her place.”

Jisung smiles, thanking Minho excitedly without sparing you a glance before he’s ordering you to bend over the end of the bed. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s as pissed off at you as Minho is or just trying to prove something to the older man, but the softness you’ve come to associate with your younger boyfriend is nowhere to be found as he stalks over to you with dark eyes. You crane your head around and your eyes meet Minho’s as he lounges in the armchair that was placed at the end of the bed months ago purely for moments like this. The older doesn’t scold you for moving like he normally, just smiles darkly at you before turning his gaze to Jisung, silently challenging him to prove his authority and he does, yanking your head back around by the hair and shoving it into the mattress with one hand while the other comes down on your ass, hard.

“Already fucking squirming and I’ve not done shit yet,” he growls, slapping you again until your skin is tingling. “I don’t need to get one of Minho’s paddles, do I?”

You whine, shaking your head at the idea. Those paddles are by far Minho’s most painful tools, only used at his angriest; the holes drilled into them make their impact much harder and years of practice have made him fucking lethal with them. Jisung’s never used them on you, usually more than content to watch with sympathy whenever Minho does and thank his lucky stars that it’s you instead of him. In fact, the younger has only spanked you with something other than his hand once, and for someone so whiny and babyish when with the older man, he hit with a shocking force that you definitely don’t want to experience again.

“No, sir,” you say.

Your muffled voice makes him laugh, pulling your head up from the mattress. “What was that?” He asks.

“No, sir,” you repeat. Satisfied, he finally releases your hair, patting you gently on your stinging ass.

“I hope not,” he says. “Stay still and I won’t have to, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

He slides in easily — embarrassingly easily, actually, considering his size, and he laughs. “You’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles. “That desperate for dick, are you?”

You whine almost insolently as he starts to move, slow thrusts quickly morphing into fast, hard pounds. You cry out, reaching to grip the sheets and curling them in your fingers. Each thrust is harder and more brutal than the last and you’re certain your cervix will be bruised tomorrow. “S-sir,” you choke out, “can’t… can’t take it.”

Jisung snorts, still a brat even while he fucks you into another plane of reality. “I don’t fucking care, bitch,” he barks almost gleefully. “I decide when this stops, not you.”

Your cries increase, hopeless and delighted. You’re so delirious at this point that you almost forget the presence of your other boyfriend, who sits stoically in his chair, watching Jisung pound you.

“Rub her clit some more, Sungie,” he orders, eyes fixed on your neglected nub. “Needs some attention.”

Jisung nods but you whine, frustrated by your other boyfriend, looming over you but not touching. “Master, can’t you?” You ask softly.

Jisung stills inside you instantly, nearly giving you whiplash with how quickly his hard thrusts cease. You whine again and he reaches up to slap you in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me, whore?” He growls. “I’ve got your cunt stuffed full and that’s still not enough for you?”

He slaps you again, expression dark and you open your mouth wordlessly, unsure how to respond and even Minho looks slightly awed at your much softer boyfriend being so mean to you. He’s never spoken to you like this — never. “Oh dear,” he says. “Even little Jisung’s mad at you now.”

“Yeah, I am,” Jisung snaps. “I’m sick of her slutting around like this and not even pretending to be grateful for what she gets.”

You’re almost crying at his words but Minho looks positively elated; he never expected Jisung to be so firm with you, though he’s been saying from the off that this is what your bratty ass needs. Looks like he’s got his wish.

“I’m not ungrateful,” you sob, shaking your head in distress at your disappointed dominants. “Just want Master to touch me too.”

“That’s too bad,” Minho sighs, “Because you’re Jisung’s right now, and I don’t get the feeling he’ll be giving you what you want tonight.”

You groan, nuzzling your head into the sheets. You never thought you’d be wishing Minho hadn’t given you to Jisung. Quietly the older backs away from you, catching Jisung’s attention for a minute.

“Jisung,” he mutters. “She’s not as tough as you, so don’t break her.”

Jisung softens slightly, gaze shifting from you, fucked out and writhing desperately on the bed, to his boyfriend and he nods. “Yes, Hyung.”

Minho smiles softly at him, patting him on the back before returning to the chair, sharp gaze back on you. You’re full on crying now, tears of frustration wetting your face as you try weakly to move around on the cock still in your pussy and the attempt is so pathetic that Jisung doesn’t even scold you for it, just presses your hip down with his hand and softly kisses your sweat-soaked hair. “You’re such a bad girl, baby,” he whispers, so fond it almost sounds like praise.

“Please, Sir,” you say weakly. “M’ so sorry, please do something.”

Taking pity on you, he slowly starts to move again, but his grip on your hip is firm and bruising enough that you know he hasn’t forgotten your insolence as he speeds up. By now you’re deeper into subspace than you’ve been in months, eyes rolled back into your head, unaware of anything but the feeling of Jisung fucking you and the sound of his voice as he coaxes you towards your orgasm. He lands a series of slaps on your thighs as you approach your high and you do your best to lift yourself up, pushing your body back against him to be as close as possible when your orgasm approaches. After an endless build up, it happens quickly, when he presses his thumb against your clit and you lose yourself instantly, screaming through your orgasm. When it’s over you go limp, collapsing exhausted in Jisung’s arms but to your horror he keeps going, holding you up against him as his thrusts continue.

Dread hits you as you quickly realise why Jisung had let you cum so easily and intensely — denial, which you’d expected and prepared yourself for, is Minho’s punishment of choice, not Jisung’s. No, Jisung, much more inclined to tease and much cockier than your more serious dominant, prefers for you to orgasm endlessly. The memory hits you of the last time he did this; the exhaustion and pain as he forced another orgasm out of you, passing out into Minho’s arms when your sixth orgasm finally pushed you past your limit, and as you realise exactly what’s coming for you now all you can do is sob.

In the aftermath of your first orgasm everything feels more intense, your whole body sensitive from its release and he uses that to his advantage, continuing to tease your aching clit as the thrusts speed up. You’re near delirious now, too weak to hold your own head up and it’s making him feral, the way he fucks into you truly animalistic, like a dog in a rut.

“Sir,” you sob over and over, the only word you can think of. “Sir, no more.”

He slows slightly, ceasing the slaps against your thigh and leans down to your ear. “Colour?” He whispers.

You’re almost ashamed of how quickly you answer. “Green.”

You feel him smile into the skin of your neck, proud and sinister.

“Then I’m not done with you yet.”

—————

a/n: based on my 100% real and legitimate experience as minsung’s gf (ITS REAL DO NOT @ ME) hope u enjoyed this tho fr… just trying to do my part ending the minsung famine on here. reblog & comment if you like! love🖤🖤

Heyy, it's been a while since you've been around here. Are you alright?

Thanks for the concern, I’m okay! I’ve been very busy after finally leaving a bad relationship, in a foreign country which made it a bit complicated, but I’m back home and safe now. Even though my tumblr isn’t connected to any real life social media I felt it’d be safest not to post anywhere for a while but I’m back now ! I’ll get to everyone’s requests soon, thanks for your patience :)

check up on it, work up on it, dip it, pop it

dom!Yunho x sub f!reader. 18+. minors fuck off. tags: fingering, size training, pussy & ass spanking, teasing, overstimulation, nicknames (slut/good girl), Yunho is called Daddy. a/n: what can I say? I got horny and my fingers slipped *shrug* PS. if you recognise the title, we're friends now. sorry, I don't make the rules.

who in ATEEZ would love to have you bent over his lap to play with your cute little cunt to see how many fingers he can fit in your tight, needy hole, and why is it Yunho?

adding one finger at a time, feeling how your pussy squeezes them tight, only to get used to him as he keeps pushing in and out achingly slow, making you wiggle your cute butt in frustration. but whenever you don't stay still, he'll pull out, smack your slick pussylips as many times it takes until you lay still. and start all over again, taking one digit at a time instead of whatever number you'd worked up to. get you all dizzy from arousal.

but since you're such a slut for Yunho's fingers, it's impossible to stay still. it feels too good when he pushes those long digits deep inside your tight cunt, filling you up just right. he has to hold your wrists behind your back with one hand, while the other is busy spanking your ass and pussy, and he starts over again, and again... you get more wet each time, the squelching sound of Yunho fingering you so clear even when he goes slow.

your slick folds get all sore and puffy before you've learned to be obedient and take daddy's fingers like the good girl he knows you are. when he thinks you've been stretched enough, he'll change pace. thrust his fingers without mercy, hitting all the right places, knowing your body like the back of his hand. now he wants to see how many times he can make you come.

oh, it's too much, is it? then why do you keep clenching around his fingers every time he hits that sweet spot and spanks your ass? why do you keep moaning like a little bitch in heat, chanting "daddy, daddy", when he circles your sensitive clit? aw, did baby get all quiet now? you can't hide from Yunho how much you love it when he plays with you like this. you're so easy to read, like an open book — but a little slut with open legs.

Um...I wanted to send in a hard ask but I didn't know what to write so I used a random kink generator and it gave me 'psychological torture' which sounded really severe.

But then I googled it (rip my browser history) and essentially it's just different levels of fear play?

And if there's any member I will place coins on who's into fear play.

It's Jeong Yunho.

Would love to play hide and seek with you.

And you're the prize.

predator and prey - yunho

You know he’s watching you. He’s been watching you since you got here, and he’s making no secret of the fact. What you’re not sure of, what lingers on your mind, is when he’s going to strike. All you know is that he will.

Your hand traces the faded marks on your wrists. Red marks, the faded indents from the red rope he’d wrapped around you the last time you’d played like this. The same red rope you know he has with him today, ready to subdue you again. Maybe that’s what he keeps reaching into his pocket for. That, or the knife he likes to hold to your throat when he drags you away.

From the corner of your eye you see him rise from his seat for the first time tonight. Your breath hitches. He doesn’t approach you and you turn away, not wanting to give away the game. Your phone buzzes in your pocket. One new message.

Yunho: One minute to run.

You don’t let your reaction show. You just slip your phone back into your pocket and excuse yourself from your company. You feel his eyes still on you as you slip out of the party, into the night.

You’re not sure where to go at this hour, but you know you only have a few seconds until he’s on your tail, so you just run straight. Your heels slow you down but in a back alley like this, keeping your shoes on is your only choice. And it’s all deliberate, anyway, every part of tonight designed to make it harder for you to outrun him. Sometimes, in the spirit of a true hunt, you don’t arrange it like this, choosing to start on equal footing, make it a fair fight, even if you know he’ll win. But not tonight. Tonight he’s impatient. He wants his prize, and he wants it now.

In the quiet of the alley, you hear his footsteps approaching from the street so you duck behind a dumpster, trying to hide. The quiet tap of dress shoes on concrete sounds more like a doomsday clock. He calls your name softly, knowing you’re close; he always knows. He can practically smell you.

“Come on out, baby,” he shouts. “I won't hurt you.”

A sweet lie to coax you out of hiding, but the smile in his voice gives him away. The knot in your stomach gives you away too.

He’s getting closer now, pace slow and leisurely as he nears his prize. “Where are you, hm?” He asks. “Where’s my reward?”

Now would be a good time to run, bolt away before he realises how close you are, but you’re frozen in place, heart pounding against your skull. In your stomach, you feel the unique mix of terror and arousal only he can concoct. You’ve already lost.

The racing of your heartbeat is so loud that you don’t even notice him come up behind you — not until his hand closes over your mouth, muffling a scream you know no one will hear.

“Gotcha,” he whispers.

—————

Just a quick little drabble welcome ateez to my profile ! Sorry this is so late (and short) but I’m just trying to get back into the fic writing swing and prove to you all that I’ve not disappeared! Do let me know if you’d like more like this/a continuation. Id like to write more dark fics for sure ! Requests always welcome as are comments and reblogs ! Love 🖤