LIVING IN THE RUINS

LIVING IN THE RUINS

minho x fem!reader. 2k words. minors dni. best friends to lovers. soft!minho. angst. fluff. jealousy. emotional hurt/comfort. smut with feelings, in a tent.

“Excuse me?”

You blink at the stranger in front of you. She seems to materialise before your eyes. You’d zoned out again and missed the attention your best friend had clearly been receiving from strangers in the crowded room. “I was wondering if I could get your number?” she asks, eyes fixed on Minho’s. She blinks quickly a few times, her long dark lashes fluttering much like your heart in your chest. 

She hasn’t looked at you once despite your close proximity. You’re so close to the object of her attention in fact, your thigh brushes against Minho’s jeans under the table. 

He shifts beside you, sitting up straighter in the booth. “Oh,” he says, clearly taken off guard as well. “Thank you. I mean that’s — I don’t—” 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” she asks with a small tilt of her head. 

“No,” Minho answers quickly, incapable of lying. His discomfort radiates off him. You’d spent years learning his emotional tells. “I mean—” 

“He’s not into women,” you interrupt, finally drawing her attention to you. She blinks before her eyes drop down to your chest and back to your eyes, like she’s completely taken aback by your presence. It’s impossible, you know that logically. Still, she puts on a good performance. “Sorry,” you add. 

Her lips curve into an unconvincing smile. “No worries,” she says. “The hot ones never are.” 

The whole exchange is as short as it is ordinary. How many tipsy girls work up the courage to ask the pretty man across the bar for his number? You would bet money on it happening multiple times over somewhere across the planet at any given moment. It’s normal. Mundane. Still, you know it’ll chip a little more of your carefully built wall away. A chisel to stone, slow and steady. The only problem is that it’s been chipped at for years. You can feel the fragility of it these days, each chisel etch feels alot like when you’re down to the end of a game of jenga. 

Any move now will cause it to crash and fall. 

She hadn’t considered for a moment you might have been together — not when she’d spotted him across the room, clearly with you — and not when she’d gotten close and blatantly ignored your comfortable proximity to each other. Her question about his relationship status had been an afterthought, a possibility she hadn’t considered until faced with a response other than ‘yes’. She’d been expecting a yes.

The thought that he might be with you, might be attracted to you, was unconsidered. You wonder if she’d discussed it with her friends. ‘No,’ they might have said. ‘There’s no way he’s with her.’

Minho is quiet as the petite brunette turns on her heels and disappears back into the mass of people. His red ears give his embarrassment away. 

You nudge his shoulder, rocking him out of his trance. “Hey,” you prod. “Alright?” 

The smile he offers you is a little lopsided — very Minho. “Always,” he says. 

—

Your annual camping trip is just like the year before. Your small group of friends sets up camp in your usual spot. Everyone climbs into their usual tents. Everyone assumes you and Minho will be sharing, as always. 

You’re not sure why it hurts so much. They assume that nothing would ever happen between you. None of the other girls share a tent with a guy they aren’t dating. You’re the exception. Because Minho would never want you. 

He notices your low mood later that night. The group separates in the dark to play flashlight tag and as you find yourself wandering a secluded patch of the campsite, you know he knows. His attention is on you instead of where he’s walking. You almost scream when he falls into apparent nothingness. 

“I’m fine,” he quickly reassures you, pulling himself up from the ground. “Just dropped my glasses.” 

“God, you scared me.” 

It takes you both at least ten minutes to find them, relying purely on touch alone. It's too dark to see much at all without a light and using your phones would give your position away. 

You’re grateful for the darkness when you reach up and place his frames gently on his face. It hides the heat in your cheeks when you brush chocolate brown hair behind his ears, ensuring you’ve placed them properly. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, close enough that his breath warms your lips. 

You’re also grateful just to be near him, you realise. Just to know him. You love him. 

You love him. 

It’s an earth shattering realisation to have while playing flashlight tag in the middle of nowhere. You need to escape. You can’t. You’re sharing a tent with him. 

The situation isn’t helped when later in the night one of the girls with big bright eyes and a gentle smile makes a very clear move on him. You were used to it. People loved him. 

You loved him. 

It’s a stupid thing to cause the wall to finally crumble. It’s humiliating really. But when he laughs at something she whispers in his ear: it happens. 

It falls. 

You’re pathetic without it. 

All you can do is hide from him, escape to the tent and pretend to be so tired you’ve fallen asleep before he can investigate. It’s not something you do. Not with Minho. He knows you so well hiding from him is just as stupid as it is pathetic. He’ll know. 

Still, you can pretend. He won’t know as long as you’re unconscious. You can put it off until morning. 

It takes a long time for him to fall asleep. You lie there staring at the canvas of the tent for what feels like hours, the sounds of him tossing and turning continuing for so long you almost give up. 

But then he’s still. His breathing seems to even out. He’s asleep. 

That’s when you let yourself cry. Quietly at first; silent aching sobs. 

What a time for the wall to crumble. You wonder if you have the energy to rebuild. You’ll have to find it. The alternative is letting Minho go entirely, removing him from your life and letting the ruins erode away over a long, long time. 

Not an option. 

“Hey,” Minho’s soft voice calls. Shit. You wipe clumsily at your eyes and sodden cheeks. “Hey, what’s going on? What happened?” he questions as his palm rests gently against your shoulder. 

You should face him. You can’t hide. You know it. 

“No-thing,” you whimper, breath catching between each syllable. It’s that awful breathless kind of sobbing, the type that leaves you unable to inhale fully, let alone speak. 

He rolls you over onto your back. He isn’t rough — but it’s with enough strength you’re completely unable to resist him. 

“What is it?” he says again, tone much more forceful now. He isn’t letting it go. He looks down at you with wide eyes, like he’d never been asleep at all. 

You shake your head. 

His gentle thumbs move to your cheeks to attempt to wipe away the mess you’d left behind. He rests on one arm, leaning over you so he can give each cheek the same treatment. It’s a curious instinct, to wipe away someone's tears — like it has any effect on the person’s pain at all. It’s the best we can often do, you suppose. 

“Just focus on breathing,” he says. “Just breathe.” His hand stays against your cheek, fingers resting on your neck by your ear — featherlight. 

Breathing is easy, in theory. Breathing. Breathing. Breathing. His lips part to join you, guide you. His lips are still a little red from his bedtime routine, his tinted vaseline usually lasting him the entire night. 

“That’s it,” he soothes when you finally manage a few steady breaths in a row. “That’s good. You’re okay.” 

They’re simple words of comfort. The kind of thing anyone would say to a person in distress, but they settle something in your chest. You were okay. He was yours in a way that was more than nothing. He cared in a way that felt so genuine it was hard to be dissatisfied with the nature of it at all. 

“Did something happen today?” he asks, still leaning over you. It’s a vulnerable position to be in. It mirrors how you know this conversation will go. Your wall is a crumbled mess. You have no defences against him. 

“Not really.” 

His eyebrows pull together. 

“Nothing worth this,” you clarify. 

“Tell me.” 

“It’s not… It’s embarrassing.” 

His lips curve in a tiny lopsided smile, just a hint of amusement. “Friends are for sharing embarrassing things with. And I’m your friend,” he says. “Aren’t I?” 

You blink quickly a few times, desperate to keep your tears at bay. Then you nod weakly. 

“Why do you look so miserable about it?” he says, tone light and teasing. 

Your lips wobble a little as you struggle with the words attempting to burst forth. They pound and burn and demand to be set free. You lose the battle. “I love you.” 

He blinks, eyes flicking across your face. 

The gates are open now. You’re turned loose. “I love you so much,” you sob. “It hurts. It hurts everyday and it just keeps getting worse and I can’t—” 

His lips cut you off, a warm, heart-stopping, and very much welcome interruption. He’s kissing you. He’s—

“Stop,” he mumbles against your wet, salty lips. “Stop hurting. Please.” His next kiss is unbearably soft, a brush against your upper lip. “Please,” he whispers. 

You nod dumbly.

He rewards you with a collection of gentle kisses across your cheeks, replacing the remnants of your tears with the sticky wetness of his moisturised lips. You imagine the slight red marks he must leave behind. 

He settles over you properly at some point. You’re too distracted by the path of his lips to notice exactly when. But then his arms are by your head, caging you under him in a way that makes you hope for the universe to halt all progression forward. This was enough; everything. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips finally. “I’m… sorry for letting you think I don’t. I’m a coward.” 

“No,” you chastise quickly as you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Don’t say shit like that.” 

“I—” 

“It hurts me… and you told me to stop hurting.” 

His head drops to your neck… then, with a soft press of his lips to your skin, “Then I’ll never do it again.” 

Every move he makes is gentle when the slow, indulgent kisses turn into exploring hands and whispered pleas for more. Each of his whisper-soft words of affection sweeps away a crumbled section of your wall, clearing the space to build something entirely new. He’s warm, so warm as his bare torso rests on yours — as he finally presses inside you and sucks a mark into your neck to join the rest he’s left. “Doesn’t hurt?” he asks, stilling as he fills you completely. 

“No,” you gasp. “No, you’re… it’s—” His lips take the words from your mouth, a little messier than he’s been before. When his hips roll into yours you can’t help grasping at him like he might suddenly get up and leave — fingers tangling in his hair desperately.

“I got you,” he mumbles against your lips, heavy breaths mingling with your own. “I got you…” 

When he eventually spills inside you, flooding you with more of his warmth, you’re crying again. But this time it doesn’t hurt; this time it’s a release. The tears that he kisses from your face afterwards — they wash away the rest of the rubble.

pairing: idol minho x fem reader

synopsis: you drunk text minho and accidentally send him something you shouldn’t

genre: idek- a little angsty? implied smut?

word count: ~1.3k

warnings: drinking.. is that all?

this was a request (i have so many i’m trying to work on rn be patient with me pls) this one was my favorite and i just had to write it first. such a great idea. 💕 obviously this is a fictional story, but i feel like i need to preface this one with that disclaimer because if this were real, our sweet minho would be in loads of trouble. 😅

i hope you like it @softkissfelix

masterlist

“another!” you shout, holding up your shot glass and clinking it against your friends’

you throw back the shot, scrunching up your face at the taste, before letting out a loud cheer and a giggle. you felt all fuzzy. warm and giddy. you needed this. after everything that happened with your ex, you needed a night out with your friends.

“so tell us everything.” your friend slurred at you from across the table. “what happened with you two?”

normally that question would sting, would feel like a stab in the gut, but you were so drunk that the question only made you giggle.

“he was mad that i like stray kids.” you told them. the table erupted into laughter.

“he dumped you because you like a kpop group?” your friend laughed.

you sloppily nodded. “yeah. he didn’t like that i had them on bubble. he saw a message from Lee Know pop up on my phone and he-“ hiccup “he freaked.”

another round of laughter made its way around the table. “what a loser.” one of your friends said.

“yeah. how insecure can he be?” another added.

“honestly, Lee Know would never treat you that way.” another joked, causing the laughter to grow louder.

ding

“speak of the devil.” you said, looking down at your phone.

“what? does he want you back now? is it him apologizing?”

you shook your head no. “no, i blocked his number. it’s Lee Know.” you giggled, turning your phone to show them his bubble message. it was just an extreme close up of his food and the message ‘맞춰봐 (take a guess)’ soon followed. you typed out your response to him, like he would ever see it, but instead of guessing what food he was eating, you typed out your phone number and the words ‘text me’ with a heart emoji. and before your drunken brain could become aware of the possible consequences to that action, you hit send. locking your phone, you shoved it back in your pocket.

“another shot!” your friend yelled to the bartender.

•

your keys clattered to the floor, jingling loudly in the hallway. “shit” you mumbled. carefully bending over to pick them up, swaying on your feet. you tried yet again, for the fourth time, to shove the key in the lock. by some miracle you managed to do it this time, unlocking the door and practically falling into your apartment. you drunkenly kicked off your shoes and stumbled to your room, falling on your bed.

you lay there, wanting your clothes off, but the room is kind of spinning. you manage to kick your pants off, and somehow you unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side.

now that you’re alone again, and the apartment is so quiet, you notice his absence. his stuff is all gone, his side of the bed empty. the bandaid that the alcohol and your friends managed to put on your wound has lost all of its stick and slowly falls to the ground. your world shatters again, your heart splintering. you think maybe you should unblock his number and call him to apologize. tell him that you’ll cancel your bubble subscription.. and you can put your Leebit in the closet or something. your eyes well up with tears. instead of shoving him in the closet, you pull Leebit closer to your chest and scrunch your eyes shut tight, fighting the urge to sob.

ding

your eyes fly open, your arm grasping around for your phone. you find it on the floor, in the pocket of your discarded pants. you bring the phone to your face, reading the notification.

—private number: hello?

it was your ex. it had to be. he got a new number to text you from because you blocked his old one. but why was it private? your drunken mind couldn’t find the will to care about that question, instead opting to sloppily type out a reply that was almost illegible.

“helo in soo sorry.” you typed.

—private number: why are you sorry? why are your texts so sloppy? have you been drinking?

“yup. k went out woth some friends. i miss you.” you replied.

—private number: are you home safe now? did you eat? drink some water.

you smiled at his message. how sweet. he never sent messages like that before. never seemed to care that much about you before. he must miss you too. you sat up, slipping your shirt off and throwing it on the floor to join your pants and bra. you were nude except for some lace panties. you managed to snap a couple of pictures. scrolling through them, past all the blurry ones, you decide on one and text it to him.

*attached image* “i made ut home safer, see? come over. 😘” you sent. minutes passed with no response. you were starting to get anxious, thinking maybe you should send another picture, maybe he didn’t get the message. but before you can do so, your phone dings again.

—private number: woah woah woah. i’m not sure if i should be seeing that.

you were starting to sober up now, worry twisting in your gut.

“what do you mean? you’ve seen it a million times. you don’t like it now?” you reply.

—private number: i have definitely never seen that before. how old are you? should i be worried? maybe this was a bad idea.

you were so confused. what is he talking about?

—private number: of course this was a bad idea. chan hyung told me not to text a number sent to me on bubble.

it was like a lightbulb went off over your head. just like in the cartoons, it clicked on and buzzed softly. you remembered the message you sent to minho on bubble when you were at the bar. drunk you is very brave apparently. what are the odds that he would have seen that message though? and the odds are even smaller that he would actually text you. this can’t be happening. you’re passed out drunk and this is all some elaborate drunken nightmare your brain is conjuring up. and you sent nudes. you almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of it all. did you send Lee Min-Ho nudes?

“Lee Know?” you texted, feeling silly.

—private number: before i answer that question, answer mine.

“i’m 27.” you replied.

—private number: thank god. you can’t just send stuff like that. are you trying to ruin my career? i thought you liked me.

“is this really Lee Know? no way.”

—private number: i assure you, it is.

“prove it.” you say. “send a picture to your bubble right now.”

after a couple moments your phone sounds off with a ding. a bubble message appears and when you click on it, you find a photo of a very annoyed looking Minho.

—private number: proof enough?

your heart dropped to your stomach, which was filled with butterflies but at the same time you thought you may throw up.

“OH MY GOD.” send. “IM SO SORRY.” send. “I PROMISE I DIDNT KNKW IT WAS TOU. I THOUGHT IT WAS MY EX. DONT LOOK .” send.

—private number: ㅋㅋ you’re cute.

“oh my god. i am so so so sorry. i promise i did not send that to you on purpose. i would never put you in that situation. please forgive me.” you rambled.

—private number: ㅋㅋ this is so funny. its okay.

“it is definitely NOT okay.” you argue.

—private number: i didn’t mind the picture. in fact, i may have another look. if that’s okay with you.

what? what did he just say? you read the text again and again. yup. this was definitely an alcohol induced dream.

—private number: i like your panties.

•••

an: a cliffhanger! ah i’m sorry! i had to end it there. i was getting toooo carried away. 😅 part 2 is here 💕

Venus Fly Trap

PAIRINGS: Bang Chan x fem!Reader

GENRE: mature (smut)

CONTENT WARNINGS: established relationship, CNC (consensual non-consent) and cnc-related roleplaying that can be triggering to certain audiences, references to drinking alcohol and bar scenes. With that said, this kink is implied to be pre-negotiated in this fic. Please remember before, during, and after reading that these scenes are fictional and do not reflect the idol's personality irl.

WORD COUNT: 3,977k

A/N: I would like to thank 🐌 anonnie for this commission! I hope you like it bubs!!

smut warnings under the cut!

SMUT WARNINGS: cnc, perv!chan (he's a creep), p in v, choking, use of degrading names, fingering, oral (m rec.), unprotected sex, exhibitionism, pain play, also sex without proper prep, there's fluff at the end dw, i think that's it, lmk if i missed anything!

Brandy, cherries, and cola.

The flavors dance on your tongue the same way this stranger— who goes by the name Chan— danced with yours in the bar’s crummy bathroom. You had no plans to meet someone new tonight, your only goal being to get drunk enough to get a mild hangover the day after. And yet somehow, you find yourself in here; between the wall and his body while he licks and nips at your neck teasingly.

It’s embarrassing how a simple, dimpled smile from him had you caving in so quickly. He was charming, impressively so, seeing how effortlessly he carried the conversation without it ever feeling forced or awkward, something that always lingered whenever a random man decided to have some small talk with you during a night out like this. Besides, what better way to strike up a conversation with someone than to ask them if they had a dog? Because, coincidentally, he has one too. With the same breed. Same name. What are the odds?  

Everything just happened so fast. One moment, you were enjoying your own solitude by the bar before he joined in, introducing himself before offering to get you a drink. If it was just any other day, you would have declined, but seeing that pretty smile of his, who could even resist? It didn’t even take you long to realize that his giggles sounded like it was accompanied by a harp played by angels and that his shy demeanor was something that you find way too endearing for you to shoo him away— that's when you know that you were already swept off your feet by him.

So when he asks if you would want to go somewhere more quiet, private, away from the bodies of people raving on the dancefloor, you say yes, letting him pull you into the men's restroom and into the farthest cubicle. 

One second, he’s locking the door, then crashing his lips into yours the next. 

You wondered how many times he has done this before, luring pretty girls in with his seemingly bashful nature only to surprise them that he’s much more of an enigma if anything. His sudden change in demeanor caught you off guard because whatever facade he had moments ago was definitely replaced with someone more confident, headstrong, and assertive, taking the lead once he had you trapped within his arms with his lips on yours in a bruising kiss. 

You’d initially thought he’d take things slow, that he’d take his precious time kissing you gently, borderline romantic, an assumption that you had since he did seem like a guy who’d do something like that. But he didn’t, the rose-colored vision you had about him was immediately broken by this stone called reality that was thrown at the fragile glass. Chan doesn’t let up, not even for breath, and with a rough pace you just came out of nowhere. It was a mash of teeth and tongue, the obscene sounds of heavy making out filtering throughout the empty restroom, mixing with whatever trashy trap music was blasting outside.

At that moment, it had you wondering where the man you just met a few moments ago go. 

The sudden change in his demeanor should have been enough to set off the alarm bells in your head, and hopefully ring loud enough to wake you up to your sense clouded by lust, but your bird brain only welcomed it with arms wrapped around his neck just to pull him closer, close enough to feel his already hard member straining against the front of his jeans. 

A hand heavily gropes your ass while he kisses your neck, his teeth lightly grazing at your sensitive skin, sending a ripple of excitement throughout your body. It even almost made you moan. Your fingers thread through his hair, lightly tugging at it to redirect his lips back to yours. The action makes Chan groan, kissing you again with the same roughness he did from the start. You feel his hands start to roam around your body, over your clothes, feeling every dip and valley before stopping at your chest. Only then did you feel the chills going down your spine the moment he starts kneading one of your breasts, and you swore you felt the urge to push him away and maybe ask him to slow down at first. Things were moving too fast for your liking, and you weren’t looking forward to getting fucked in a cramped bathroom stall tonight. So, you lightly pushed at his chest, hoping that he’d get the message, but he didn't. It only made him nip into your lips before giving your breast a firm squeeze, and for what reason, it felt more of a warning for something you’re not entirely sure of. But still, you pushed at him again, hard enough for him to detach his lips from yours only to go back to kissing your neck— this time with him slightly grinding against your front. If it were any other day, you’d think that his groans sounded so hot, but right now, it only made your heart thrum against your chest in a slight panic with the realization that he’s not stopping. 

“Chan,” you call out to him a bit breathlessly as you try to tug his head away from your neck, “Chan.” He only hums at the sound of his name, his hand finally moving away from your breast but only to trail it down your navel. His hand was already dangerously close to your clothed core before you finally grabbed his wrist to stop him, only then did he finally pull away from you. 

“What’s wrong, sweets? ‘Thought we were gonna do this at some point?” He says with a dazed, and almost dopey look on his face. “Yeah, I—” you gulp, “It’s just that… I think we’re moving a bit too fast?” You didn’t know why, but the longer you looked at him, the more it made you feel like you wanted to shrink into yourself and away from his intense gaze. Suddenly, it’s as if you couldn’t read him, not when his eyes became so void of emotion, no longer matching the small smile he’s sporting on his lips. “Come on, Y/n,” he says, his hands resting on your hips, and you can faintly feel the way his thumbs slightly press into your flesh.

You blink at him, unsure, before sharing an awkward chuckle with him with a shake of your head. “I um…” you feel his grip tighten, tilting his head to the side as he waits for your next words, but judging by the way his smile slowly starts turning sour, you recon that he already knows where this is heading. 

“Tonight has been great and all but,” you paused, trying to gauge his reaction, and you find it funny how you’re suddenly nervous—  as if you’re now walking on eggshells just waiting for him to crack. “I think I should go.” 

You move, trying to create even just a little bit of space for you to get away from him, but he blocks you, now putting one of his hands against the wall to trap you. “Leaving already?” Chan asks, still with the sickly sweet souring smile on his face that has your heart beating frantically in your chest, alarm bells ringing in your head now that you’ve come to the realization that things were quickly going south. 

You gave him a sheepish smile, masking the panic that was slowly bubbling within you, before trying to move away again, but this time he trapped you even more by putting his body closer to yours leaving you no room to escape. 

“Chan, come on, I gotta—” 

“Don’t go yet, please?” He asks, his face mere inches away from yours, his eyes darting to your lips— you’ve never felt this vulnerable and scared in your life before until today. The tension in the air thickens, even more, the moment he locks eyes with you, and suddenly you feel as if you’re claustrophobic with the proximity between the two of you.

He tries kissing you, but you dodge, turning your face away so he can kiss your cheek instead. “Playing hard to get now, are we?” Chan briefly comments before leaning in to kiss you again, an attempt that fails yet again as you dodge him the second time. He drops his head and then scoffs, his fringe falling over his face making it hard to see his expression, but you catch a glimpse of him licking his lips before breaking out into a toothy, open-mouth smile as he pokes his tongue against his cheek. “And here I thought you were easy,” you hear him mumble under his breath with a shake of his head. Appalled, you look at him incredulously, fear momentarily forgotten because of the sheer shock you felt because of his words. “Excuse me?” 

“Come on, sweetheart. Aren’t you here for a quick fuck?” 

“What? No! Jesus, what made you think that?!” 

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you? In the men’s bathroom? With me?”

You hear the sound of skin hitting skin before you even realize that you’ve slapped him— slapped him hard enough to leave his cheek throbbing with a dull ache that settled on his jaw— and you wished that the earth would just swallow you right then and there for what you’ve done.

When he turns to look at you again, his free hand cradling his face, the smile he’d put up is no longer there anymore, replaced by a clenched jaw and eyes that just made your insides scream run, run, run!

Yet you stood still, out of fear and pride, facing him with your chin held high and unblinking eyes, hoping that he’d get the message that you’re not as easy as he thinks you are. 

“I was hoping I’d go easy with you tonight,” he huffs out, his hand reaching out to grab your face, his thumb harshly digging into your cheeks that has you struggling to escape his hold with your hands tugging at his wrist, “Especially after seeing this pretty face of yours.” Despite digging your nails into his skin, he doesn’t budge, not even when you try to tug at it as hard as you can. 

“I’ll give you another chance, yeah?” Chan says and he finally, finally, lets go of you. He reaches out again to touch you but you quickly swat his hand away with a glare and a shove. “Stay. Away.” You warn him and all Chan does in response is chuckle in the most demeaning way possible, as if he knows that your little warning poses no real threat to him. 

He grabs you by the hips before quickly pulling you toward him, catching you off guard and landing on his chest with an ‘oof’. “Come on, baby. Just the tip, I promise. What do you say?” He whispers against your ear, his lips just barely brushing against the shell. 

“You fucking asshole!” You curse, shoving him before spitting right at his face, absolutely fuming in anger. Chan was taken aback at what you did, angrily wiping his face with his hand before grabbing you before you could even push the door open. With a surprised squeal, he pushes you against the wall while he swiftly locks the cubicle again, your effort to escape immediately going down the drain. 

“Listen here, you bitch,” he says as he pins you with his body, his warm breath hitting the skin of your cheek. “I’m gonna take what’s mine and fuck you right here, ya hear me?” He lightly shoves you again for good measure, making you whimper, your breath hitching in fear as you clutch the wall in front of you. “Answer me,” another shove, then you nod as best as you can despite having your face squished against the wall. 

Your heart pounds hard against your chest, loud enough to hear your own pulse in your ears, as he starts unbuttoning your jeans just so he can shove his hand in. “Chan, please,” you whimper, wincing at the sound of your own zipper going down. “Don’t do this, please.” He doesn’t answer you, nor listen because he shamelessly cups your core over your panties.

Then he huffs, amused. 

“You sure you don’t want this?” He asks, his fingers putting pressure against your clothed clit which he seems to find right away. “I can feel you soaking through your underwear, babe.” Your face heats up at his words, and a moan almost threatens to slip past your lips the moment he presses again. “N-no,” you stutter out, and you wanna curse at your body for basically betraying you. You weren’t supposed to like this, him touching you in the most perverted way possible that is, and yet here you are, pleasure buzzing throughout your body every time he manages to rub your clit the right way despite having a barrier of clothing in between. 

“Chan I–” you gasp when he suddenly shoves your pants down together with your underwear, the action leaving you bare for him to see. “Chan, no! Oh god, stop— please don’t look!” You pleaded, even going as far as trying to cover yourself, but Chan was quick to grab both your knees and pin them behind your back, pushing you against the wall so that you could arch your back and present your ass toward him.

“Why even cover yourself, sweetheart?” He asks, and you feel him putting his fingers on your embarrassingly wet cunt, fingers pushing through your folds. “I can’t believe you even dared to hide this pretty pussy of yours. Did you really think I’d leave without having a taste first?” He spends his precious time just toying with you, admiring how your slick coats his digits and how your body tries so hard not to react with the pleasure that was getting so hard to ignore. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You can feel good,” he says, dipping the tips of his finger against your hole until your knees threaten to buckle from under you. “N-no,” you say with a shake of your head, “Doesn’t f-feel good.” It really doesn’t, not when all he does was tease you, only rubbing your cunt through your folds and purposefully avoiding your aching bud. Perhaps this was his revenge, riling you up to the point where you forgot that you never wanted this in the first place, which again, he does ever so effortlessly the same when he managed to lure you in. Maybe he really is right, you think. Maybe you are easy, no less easy than the fly who falls victim to the sweet nectar of a Venus fly trap. Before you knew it, he had clamped down on you the same way the jaws of the carnivorous plant snap close to capture its prey. 

“No?” He says with faux sympathy, finally shoving his middle finger inside and he almost moans at the feeling of your walls clenching around his digit, warm and velvety and so, so snug for lack of better words. “Well, that isn’t really my problem now, is it?” You hear the telltale sound of metal clinking and you realize that he’s undoing his belt. You shake your head, muttering no, no, no before looking over your shoulder in horror. “Chan, what are you–” 

“Does it matter?” he cuts you off with his head tilted and his brow raised. “Isn’t this what you wanted in the first place? Don’t tell me you’re still playing hard to get.” Chan scoffs out, pushing his pants down his thighs before palming his now hard cock over the thin fabric of his boxers. You thrash against him, which really was a mistake because it only managed to shove Chan’s finger even deeper, you swore it nearly grazed your cervix, making you shudder almost instantly. “Stay fucking still,” he tells you, almost like a command, while he stills you by holding your hip in place just so he could shove another finger inside.

“I don’t think you’d be needing that much prep,” he says after a while of wiggling his fingers in your hole, experimentally pulling it out before pushing it right back in, purposefully missing your sweet spot. “Not like you really need it.” He pulls his fingers out just to spread your wetness all over your cunt just to prove a point before putting it right back in. 

It’s embarrassing to hear the loud noises of your cunt  every time he moves his fingers, the lewd wet sounds echoing throughout the bathroom, and if anyone were to come in, they’d definitely know right away what the two of you are doing. But then the idea of Chan possibly fucking you without prep makes you clench around his fingers as an attempt to push them out and definitely not because of how aroused you felt with the idea. 

“Be good for me now, yeah?” He says, leaning over your body just so he can press his chest against your back while pulling his cock out of the confines of his boxers. You shake your head once again, telling him no for the nth time of the night, but he only shuts you up by putting the very same fingers that were inside your pussy into your mouth to shut you up before pushing his cock inside you without any room for adjusting. The sting of the intrusion makes your eyes water and squeal around his fingers, your breathing erratic as you can physically feel your cunt throbbing around the size of his girth. Chan groans at the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, even more so when he starts moving, fucking you as if he already owns your body. Every thrust sends your body forward into the wall, making you use your arms to stabilize yourself and keep yourself from hitting your face against the wall. 

“Such a tight fucking cunt, babe. Can’t believe you would even keep this from me,” he pants out, fucking you hard enough to let out huffs of your own pleasure, tiny, quiet moans coming out muffled as the sting slowly turns into pleasure, especially when the curve of his cock is just enough to make it hit your sweet spot. 

You feel his fingers dig into your hip as he pulls you against him to meet his thrust, and you are sure that you’ll wake up with bruises the size of his fingertips tomorrow. But at this point, it’s like you wouldn’t even mind, not when you already start to feel fuzzy from the pleasure his cock was giving you, drooling around his fingers with your own spit dribbling from your chin. 

The sound of skin against skin, his heavy set of balls smacking against your clit, and his moans that bounced with every thrust were enough to make you feel your orgasm slowly building up like a rubber that’s pulled too tight threatening to snap. And Chan knows you’re close if not with the way you just got wetter, your essence forming a ring at the base of his cock, with your tight pussy clenching around him nonstop, so he pulls his fingers from your mouth just to hear the pretty noises you were making. 

You can get caught like this, the both of you know, and every time you remember it makes your heart skip a beat or two. You definitely don’t want to get caught per se, but the idea itself makes the skipped beat from your heart appear in your cunt, you know? 

“C-close,” you mutter, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he decides to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you closer against him so he can just press himself against your back, deepening his strokes until he feels you cum around him with a silent scream, your eyes crossed as you twitch and shake against his hold as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm. “There ya go,” he comments before nibbling at your ear. “I could have made you cum like this moments ago if you weren’t being so fucking difficult.” 

Just then, before Chan could even focus on chasing his orgasm, the door to the public bathroom opens and a drunk man stumbles in, and he was quick to pull out of you and push you to the floor to shove his cock in your mouth, the sound of you gagging when his cock reaches the back of your throat silenced by the sounds of the drunk man throwing up a few stalls away. You had to breathe through your nose and blink your tears away, and you thought that Chan would stop right here and wait for the person to leave so he could continue, but he didn’t. Instead, he wraps his hand around your throat, choking you, while his other hand threads through your hair before gripping at your roots just so he could move you against his cock, moving your head back and forth like a toy for him to use. 

You try to not gag every time he pushes you too deep, so you try to focus on smelling his musk and the taste of his precum mixed with your own juices in your mouth, anything to keep you focused on staying quiet until the man leaves. It’s a shame that even in this moment you think that the stranger you just met an hour ago looks so pretty with his face contorted in pleasure. His plush bottom lip is caught between his teeth and he’s got sweat beading on his temples, and you could see just how much he’s trying to stay quiet too. 

When you finally hear the sound of the toilet flushing followed by the bathroom door opening and closing, Chan lets go, keeping your head in place before shallowly thrusting into your mouth before he cums. “F-fuuuuuuck yeah, baby. Shit, did so fucking well for me.” Streaks of his hot cum shoot down your throat before he pulls out just enough to get the last bits of his release on your tongue. 

His chest heaves as he comes down from his high, gently pulling you off his cum just so he could watch you open your mouth just to show how much there is in your mouth before swallowing it with a satisfied giggle. 

“Fucking hell,” Chan comments with a breathless chuckle, watching you take his softening cock back inside your mouth just to ‘clean’ him off until he hisses with overstimulation. “H-hah— that’s enough, baby, please,” he says with a wince, finally breaking character, so you pull off with a pop before giving the tip of his cock a kiss with a sweet giggle. Chan then helps you up before pulling you into his arms, immediately attacking your face with so many kisses, making you whine and break into a smile. “Channie, nooo,” you squeal out, “stop!” 

“‘M not stopping,” he says, his dimples making an appearance on his handsome face as he smiles at you. “Gonna give you so many kisses for being such a good girl for me.”

“You can give it to me later, you know?” You say with a smile before giving a kiss on the tip of his nose. “We might get caught if we stay like this!” 

“You’re worried about that now?” He jokes before helping you put your pants up and straighten your clothes. “Yes now,” you retort. “I was busy getting railed by my boyfriend earlier! Of course, I worry about it now!” 

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about anything, Mrs. Bang,” Chan teases, giving you a forehead kiss. “I’ll fuck you again the moment we get home. This time, we’re definitely not getting caught.” 

Merry Christmas, happy holidays.

As a present, Have my ultimate dream goth rodrick heffley boyfriend Lee Know.

skz talker ep. 64 // changbin

Kinktober Day 6

Prompt: Dubcon/Noncon Pairing: Frat!Changbin x fem!reader WC: 2,170 Summary: Changbin’s boys went out for a boys night. Changbin stayed in to stay with you. You stayed in to work on your capstone.  This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Changbin or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy.

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