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pixiefelixie · 30 days ago

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1-800-WHENEVER-U-WANT-IT | ft. Stray Kids

In which Jisung is honest about what he wants. Not surprisingly, his boyfriends want it, too.

— Rating; E for Explicit

— Pairing(s); Everyone x Everyone, SKZ OT8, SKZ x Reader

— Author’s Note; I’m always yapping about this concept on the blog so I finally decided to do something about it. It was supposed to be a drabble… but look where that got me SMH. [There will be a part two but like…. don’t ask me when that’s coming because girlies…. idk either!]

— Warnings; mlm content, everyone fucks and everyone fucks each other (regardless of gender), smidge of brat taming, sexual flashbacks, objectification of the female body (??? i mean, they’re talking about reader’s pussy so— do what you will with that), pussy delivered via air-express pretty much, mostly jisung-centric, chan gets twinked, reader is older, uh— idk am i missing something???

Jisung is the first to let it slip.

“I miss pussy.”

He feels bad for blurting it out like that, but only slightly. A weird break between performances coupled with more beers than he’d like to count have him feeling loose in regard to his brain-mouth filter. He doesn’t have much of one to begin with, but even then, he thinks he would have a bit more tact.

“What?” Felix asks, deep voice drawing everyone’s attention.

Jisung shrugs, picking at the label on his beer bottle. “I miss pussy. Like, real bad.”

An image pops into his head when he thinks about it more — a memory from what feels like a millennia ago.

Soft, glistening thighs, slick with arousal that drips from the cunt between them. The prettiest he’s ever seen; a delectable mound of flesh that Jisung can’t wait to get his mouth on. The sticky sound that accompanies the act of thumbing the folds open makes him sigh with content. The feeling deepens as he reveals a cute, pudgy clitoris and a pulsing hole that can only be described as hungry.

“Jisung,” the voice turns his name into a siren call. Hips jut forward, a silent plea for him to follow through with his promise. “Please.”

In real time, Jisung groans the same way he had in the memory. He can feel the way his mouth has begun to water, enticed by the phantom scent of eager pussy, dick chubbing up between his legs. Someone whistles and it makes heat prickle the skin of his throat and face. He reaches to adjust his erection, feeling a bit like a pathetic virgin.

“Are we not enough for you anymore?” Felix asks, pouring. The look in his eye tells Jisung that he’s teasing, but it doesn’t stop Jisung from trying to explain.

“No!” He shouts, eyes wide. “That’s not what I—“

“Unbelievable,” Minho spits, but it’s said with less venom than a normally angry Minho would use.

“You have access to more dicks and holes than you know what to do with and you’re still hungry for more.”

Jisung ducks his head, chin to his chest and almost sheepish, but part of him (his dick) likes the way Minho teases him — a little mean, and a lot of sexy. Minho knows this, as confirmed by the lingering smirk on his lips.

“Kind of disrespectful, don’t you think?”

“Kind of whorish of him, actually,” Jeongin scoffs.

“No—,” Jisung denies, “It’s— It’s not—“ he looks around for help, eyes bouncing from member to member in search of someone to aide in his defense.

“It’s not just any pussy though,” Chan fills in, watching as Jisung’s body deflates of tension at being understood. Chan grins, undeniably soft where his first kid is concerned.

“You miss pussy, but like, there’s more to it than that, right?” — Hyunjin asks, eyes squinted in Jisung’s direction — “Like, you’re missing one pussy in particular?”

“Yeah,” Jisung nods eagerly, “Just one.”

“Whose pussy do you miss, ‘Sung?” It’s Changbin who speaks this time and Jisung finds it funny that this conversation has become a group affair given the circumstances.

“You mean he’s had more than one?” Seungmin jabs before Jisung can answer, evil cackle ensuing.

Jisung only glares, fully preparing something say slick right back, but the next few things happen so quickly that Jisung find himself speechless. There’s a hand fisted in Seungmin’s floppy locks, one that Jisung recognizes to be Minho’s. Minho gestures with his free hand for Jisung to continue speaking and he does, but not before Changbin is telling Seungmin to keep quiet,

“Hush, Puppy,” the older male rasps, side-eying Seungmin as if to question his bratty behavior.

Seungmin doesn’t speak, just blinks dopily from where he’s seated. Now, with Seungmin caught between Minho’s literal grasp and Changbin’s undeniable brat-taming aura, Jisung musters up the courage to put a name to his desire.

There’s only one pussy in the entire cosmos that would have any of them so gone over that they’re still thinking about it months down the road. Despite knowing the outcome, it doesn’t stop the room from erupting in a chorus of agreements with Jisung’s next word. And that’s all it is — just a reverent, breathy utterance of a name that has all eight of them reminiscing.

Yours.

“Fuck,” Jeongin groans, his own mind suddenly filled with memories of you and your sweet, little cunt. “Why’d you have to bring her up? Now I’m thinking about Noona’s pussy, too!”

“We’re all thinking about it now, you little shit,” Changbin grunts, dragging a hand down his face.

Jisung balks, mildly offended. He takes back what he said earlier about almost feeling bad for bringing up the fact that he misses pussy. They asked him a question and he answered. What— did they want him to lie? Jisung hasn’t had pussy that wasn’t yours in over a year! He’d even go as far as to say he’s not the only one either; in fact, he’s willing to bet all the won in his wallet that the rest of the guys are in the same exact boat. Besides! It’s not like it’s a crime to think about you.

“I miss it, too,” Felix says, looking like he’s pained. He gulps, adam’s apple bobbing with the action. “Miss how wet it gets. Never have to use lube, you know?”

Hyunjin, though silent, is experiencing his own moment of duress. Felix’s words send him spiraling down memory lane. Sure, it’s been a few months, but Hyunjin could never forget how messy your pussy gets. Fragments of memories play over and over again in his brain, nothing but phantom echoes of your moans and the sound of your creamy cunt.

“Look,” Hyunjin says, propping your head up with his hand. He angles your neck in such a way that you won’t be uncomfortable, but it also forces you to stare down at where his cock is half buried inside you.

“Look at how messy you are, how messy you’ve made me.”

“S-Sorry,” you gasp up at him, eyelids fluttering when he slides all the way back in. You can literally feel how each stroke pushes wetness out of your cunt, leaving it frothing at the base of his cock and slipping down your back side.

“Don’t be sorry,” Hyunjin coos, savoring the sight of your pussy gushing all over his dick before he leans in to lock his lips with yours. “I fucking love you messy.”

“Yeah,” he rasps, mouth suddenly feeling dry. He takes a swig of his beer like it’s going to help the issue. “I’ll second that.”

“I think I miss how sensitive she gets. It’s so easy it is to make her come just by playing with her clit.”

If Jeongin hadn’t been staring in his general direction, he wouldn’t have been able to tell who’s speaking. Nonetheless, he feels it viscerally when Seungmin’s words hit him in the gut; he fights the urge to whine as a flashback hits him. Hard.

“Wait, w-wait,” you whine, high and pretty, “It’s too much!”

Jeongin can only cluck his tongue and shake his head, fingers curling deeper into your cunt. You’ve come for him twice already, surely you can come a third time — even though you were ready to tap out after the first one. He knows you’re close; you’re clenching around his fingers like crazy, hips jumping every time he lets his knuckles catch on the sensitive skin of your entrance. Jeongin hears you sniffle, body sagging as it loses the ability to fight.

“That’s right,” he coos, bringing his thumb up to circle the twitching and neglected bud of your clit. “Stop fighting it.”

You gasp, chanting little, broken syllables of his name as he works you closer to the edge. Jeongin doesn’t even care that his dick is hard, covered in your slick, and hanging neglected between his own legs when you look like this. Nothing matters more than making you come. Not here, not now, and certainly not when you’re crying in his bed and squirting all over his sheets.

“I’m with Seungmin-hyung on this one,” he croaks out, “tapping out after one round is crazy work.”

“Tight,” Changbin mumbles solemnly, thick fingers gripping even thicker thighs. “Miss how it just —,” he pauses, hands coming together to squeeze the air, “hugs my cock. Still amazed at how such a tiny hole can fit all of us like a glove.”

Changbin’s eyes are wild, pupils dilated so wide that he looks nearly unrecognizable. Minho doesn’t need a mirror to know that Changbin’s expression is being recreated on his own face. The thing is, Minho doesn’t get affected by shit like this; his self control is impeccable! Yet, here he is, sporting a half boner in front of seven other guys as he thinks about how snug your pussy feels when he’s inside it.

Minho’s hands have a death grip on your hips. He grits his teeth to stay focused, to retain basic decency instead of losing his marbles like a caveman. He doesn’t think anyone can blame him though, not like this. Who wouldn’t lose their shit when a pretty woman is bouncing in their lap? A pretty woman with a tight and hot, little pussy that she keeps trying to spear open on his dick.

“You’re gonna — fuck— hurt yourself,” he grits while making no move to bring you to a halt.

“Hurts now,” you whimper pitifully. You corkscrew your hips and manage to sink down on him a bit further, leaving Minho to beg internally for the higher powers to have mercy on him.

“Hurts so good though,” you whine, squeezing Minho’s hips with your knees.

Before he can say anything, your mouth is on his, slipping that devious tongue of yours into his mouth almost instantly. Feeling the way you melt as the kiss goes on, sparks fire in Minho’s veins. Call him crazy but he can feel your pussy get wetter. It clenches when he bites your bottom lip, gushes when he licks to soothe it, and all of a sudden you’re properly seated in his lap with a creaky moan.

“Shit,” he curses, hyper aware of current state. “Don’t you fucking move; there’s no way I’m coming first.”

“You okay there, kitty-hyung?” Seungmin teases, finding entertainment in the older man’s struggle, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“If you value your life, Kim Seungmin, you’ll shut the fuck up right now,” said man grumbles, before letting out a gruff sigh. “Changbin’s not wrong though; feels like I’m gonna break her every single time.”

By the end of it all, Jisung feels deranged.

Logically, he understands that he’s (mostly) to blame here — after all, this whole situation started because of him — but, like, come on! He’s losing his mind! If his own recollection of you isn’t enough to kill him, everyone’s reasons for missing you in their beds will surely do the trick. His dick is leaking at this point, needy and angry in the confines of his pants. He misses your pussy so bad; he misses you so bad. So much so that he’s ready to say fuck the contract, fuck the NDA, and fuck JYP in the form of catching the next flight to wherever you are.

Dispatch would have a field day with that one, for sure. And fortunately — or unfortunately, from Jisung’s point of view — Chan would have him beheaded for being reckless and horny. It’s not the potential of his ruined reputation, or even being murdered by his leader, that keeps him rooted right where he’s at though. Dispatch wouldn’t only drag him and the rest of the group through the mud, they’d ruin you, too. Fans would tear you apart, call you mean things and dox your information like half of them aren’t grown men who’re pushing closer to the thirty every day.

Jisung can’t have that. Yes, he needs you something fierce, but not by any means that would call for risking your safety just so he can get his dick wet. Instead, he turns to the one person who hasn’t spoken since the beginning. The only one of them who can put an end to his suffering: Chan.

“Hyung,” Jisung rasps, turning to where Chan is seated. The older man is refusing to make eye contact, full lips pulled into a straight line.

The rest of the room seems to catch onto Jisung’s whims, all of them choosing to stare Chan down too. Chan can feel their eyes on him in the way heat crawls up his neck, prickling his skin along the way. He shouldn’t indulge them; he should hold strong, tell them how ridiculous it would be to make you fly out while they’re on tour nonetheless.

“Hyung,” Jisung tries again, “Hyung, please.”

“Jisung,” Chan says back, still refusing to look at him. “Jisung, you know that’s not—“

“C’mon, Chris,” Felix cuts, pretty lips pursed in a pout.

“She— She might be busy!”

“Bullshit,” someone coughs, followed by the clearing of their throat.

It was a futile protest and Chan knows as much. He saw the eye rolls some of his members gave at his response; they know just like he does that the probability of you being too busy is slim-to-none. Truthfully, he doesn’t even know why he’s resisting so hard — outside of the tour, that is. It has been awhile and the kids miss you like crazy which would be enough reason to call you alone. Hell, Chan misses you like crazy and if you knew of the struggle he’s having right now, you’d probably threaten to castrate him in his sleep.

Amidst his mental monologue — and as if they’d anticipated further refusal — Jisung and Felix seem to have a moment of twin telepathy. Chan doesn’t see them coming, but ultimately knows he’s fucked when he suddenly has a lap full of them. He’s a sucker for any of his kids on a normal day, but Jisung — his very first — and Felix — his little taste of Australia — hold a special place in Chan’s heart. One that they clearly are using to their advantage.

“Chan,” Jisung mumbles, all chubby cheeks and batting lashes, arms slinging around Chan’s neck like it’s just the two of them, “Channie-hyung.”

“Please?” Felix asks, voice even lower than normal. One of his tiny hands comes to play with Chan’s hair, and he even kisses the line of Chan’s jaw for a critical double-hit. “Please, Chris?”

“Call her. Channie-hyung, please call her. Tell her how badly we need her; she’ll come.”

“Yeah, do it for us, Hyung,” Hyunjin joins in, drawing Chan’s attention. Hyunjin’s long limbs spread out in a stretch that appears more provocative than it has any right to be, making Chan’s dick kick in his shorts.

“I—,” he begins, unprepared for the unanimous chorus of ‘Hyung!’ that interrupts him. Cruel of his boys to all gang up on him like this — downright heinous.

“Okay,” he croaks, trying to ignore that Felix is still working his mouth over the skin of Chan’s neck. Or the fact that someone’s hand is snaking into the pocket of his shorts. “I’ll call her.”

“Great!” Changbin claps his hands, giddy smile taking over his face.

“Lino-hyung will book the flight!” Seungmin shouts while pressing Chan’s phone into his hand and nearly taking out his eardrum in the process. “And I call first dibs!” He says, cackling like an evil minion.

Finally, the focus is off Chan as chaos erupts, everyone fighting to be the person that gets to have you first. It’s Chan’s turn to roll his eyes now; there’s sort of an unspoken rule that first (and last) “dibs” belong to him. Chan doesn’t usually exercise his superiority when it comes to activities with you, but considering the moves they pulled on him to get here tonight, he thinks this time might just be the first.

“Brats,” Chan murmurs under his breath as he unlocks his phone to get to your contact.

His finger hovers over your picture briefly. He lets himself take a deep breath, then clicks on your number like he said he would. The phone rings and rings for a few beats, not doing anything to quell Chan’s nervousness. He thinks of hanging up and trying again, but then the picks up and out comes your voice, thick with what Chan only assumes to be sleepiness, meaning that he’s woken you up from.

“H-Hello,” you mumble, sounding so cute that Chan forgets every con that he had towards calling you in the first place.

“Hi, baby,” he croons through the speaker, desire running rampant at the sound of your sleepy voice. The next question is more of a formality than a true question, especially when he sees Minho already dropping the link to your flight confirmation into the group chat.

“Wanna take a trip?”

#holy smokes #this was such a fun read

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

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finally got a bit of motivation back to write so i'm currently working on a long seungmin fic so here’s a tiny snippet while i work on the rest 💔

that was the worst day of your life.

and you would never talk about it again. not years from now, not when joking with friends over drinks, not when someone asked about your first love. you would never soften the edges, never make it sound poetic. because there was nothing poetic about breaking like this.

you stayed curled there, arms wrapped tight around your legs, sobbing until you had nothing left to give.

and that was how it ended.

#i need to work on requests #the whole fic itself is not this sad i promise

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

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"...gnab gnab gnab," Gnab gnab gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab.

Gnab.

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Gnab.

"GNAB gnab, 'Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab.'" Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab.

Gnab.

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Gnab.

"GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab."

Gnab. Gnab.

"Gnab gnab?"

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Gnab.

"Gnab gnab gnab?"

Gnab. Gnab.

"Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab Gnab gnab?" Gnab gnab.

"Gnab gnab? Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab? Gnab gnab? Gnab?" Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab.

"Gnab, gnab, GNAB gnab--" Gnab gnab gnab, gnab gnab gnab.

Gnab

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"Gnab gnab gnab--Gnab gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab." Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab.

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"Gnab gnab gnab--"

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"GNAB gnab gnab, Gnab. GNAB gnab, gnab. GNAB gnab--" Gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab.

"GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. GNAB--" Gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab.

Gnab.

"Gnab! Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab! Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab!"

"Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab! Gnab," Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab.

Gnab

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"GNAB gnab--"

"Gnab gnab gnab? Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab? Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab."

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"Gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab?"

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"GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab. GNAB gnab gnab. GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab, gnab gnab gnab."

"Gnab. Gnab,"

"Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab? Gnab gnab none gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab?"

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"Gnab. GNAB gnab GNAB gnab gnab, gnab GNAB gnab gnab gnab Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab."

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"Gnab," Gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab, "GNAB gnab gnab. GNAB gnab. GNAB gnab gnab gnab. Gnab, GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab, Gnab. Gnab GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab-gnab gnab gnab gnab--"

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Gnab gnab gnab gnab.

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"--Gnab gnab gnab gnab, GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab." Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab Gnab.

"Gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab, gnab,"

"GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab, GNAB gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab...gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab...gnab."

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"Gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab." Gnab gnab gnab.

Gnab gnab gnab Gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab "gnab gnab" gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab-gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab, gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab.

Gnab, Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab.

"Gnab, Gnab," Gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab, gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab gnab. "GNAB gnab gnab,"

—

Buy me a coffee?

—

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

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hi loves, i’ve decided to close my requests for now. some have still been coming in and thank you for trusting me with your ideas, but i haven’t had the motivation to write lately at all. i don’t know what’s up, maybe it’s burnout, but either way i’m trying not to force it. i will be getting to the ones already in my inbox, i’m just moving slow right now.

also, mini rant incoming so skip if you don’t wanna read me spiral. i’ve been trying to grow closer to God lately and truthfully tumblr hasn’t been helping with that. there’s so many distractions on here. so many things that pull me in the opposite direction of where i’m trying to go. i feel so far from who i want to be like i keep choosing things that don’t feed me, don’t serve me, but still i run back to them. i’m figuring it out tho.

to be more specific since we're already here, most of the reason i’ve been feeling off about tumblr is because i think i’m idolizing skz a little too much. more in the sense that fanfiction and these boys make me too happy when i know deep down it’s only temporary. im also scared it's becoming a parasocial relationship, but it probably isn’t that serious. it just feels like i’m slipping into something that’s keeping me from being grounded in my faith, in what i actually want for myself. i don’t want to let something good become something unhealthy, you know?

also don’t even get me started on smut. i would rather die than go in depth about that, but it’s pretty self-explanatory. definitely the absolute least healthy thing for someone trying to stay spiritually grounded lmfao.

so yeah. hopefully it’ll get better even though i doubt it will. for now, i’m just doing what i can. i’ll still be writing when the words come. thank you for sticking around through all of it. love u!!

#yapyapyap #i was supposed to talk abt requests but here we are

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

Text

STRAY KIDS in "KARMA" Trailer

#WE ARE SO BACK

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

Text

⭑.ᐟ MAKE HIM SNAP: LEE FELIX (NSFW / 18+ ONLY)

: ̗̀➛ pairing: lee felix x brat fem!reader (a bit of seungmin x reader) : ̗̀➛ word count: ~8k : ̗̀➛ content: fluff, smut, felix is the sweetest thing but so mean, reader actively tries to make felix mad, minor injury in the kitchen

part 2 is out!

you make a bet with seungmin: you've got one week to get your boyfriend, felix—who seems completely incapable of getting mad at you—to finally snap. after a series of failed attempts, you figure if anything’s going to work, it might as well be in bed.

author's note: i’ve been on a writing grind lately so here’s a second fic in one sitting because apparently i have no self-control. i’m shitting my balls. i need felix like yesterday. enjoy! ♡

smut warnings below the cut!

: ̗̀➛ smut warnings: hard dom!felix, explicit sexual content, oral (f. receiving), reader has the biggest degradation kink, brat taming, slight edging, light bondage, power play, unprotected piv (don't), missionary, doggy style, semi-voyeurism

you’d always thought of him as sunshine.

everyone did.

even when he wasn’t smiling, felix had that glow, with freckles that danced across his cheeks like constellations and a voice that made people turn around just to hear him speak again. he was soft. gentle. sweet in every way. the kind of boy who folded your laundry before you even remembered you’d done it.

even in bed he was gentle. he was all praise and slow hands. he loved you softly. every time.

which is probably why no one—including you—had ever seen him mad.

not truly.

you were perched on the edge of the couch in the boys’ dorm, nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of your hoodie. it was felix’s—slightly oversized and still faintly smelling like his laundry detergent.

you were here because you’d accidentally taken something you weren’t supposed to. a usb, to be exact. felix had handed it to you earlier in the day along with your own, and in your rush to leave, you’d pocketed the wrong one.

“i just feel so bad,” you groaned, glancing toward the hallway. “he said he needed it for something tonight. like, deadline needed.”

seungmin was sprawled across the other end of the couch, legs kicked up, eyes on his phone. he barely glanced up as he responded.

“you’re being dramatic.”

“no, like—really bad. i shouldn’t have—”

“honestly?” he cut in, finally looking at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “i don’t think he’s even capable of getting mad at you.”

you blinked. “what?”

he chuckled, flipping his phone over. “i mean, come on. you could probably punch him in the face and he’d apologize for getting in the way of your fist.”

you laughed despite yourself. “that is so not true.”

“isn’t it?”

you opened your mouth to argue—but then the front door opened.

felix stepped in, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair slightly damp from the drizzle outside. his eyes found you immediately.

“hey,” you said, standing. “i brought it. sorry again, i seriously didn’t mean—”

“shh.” he was already moving toward you, gentle hands coming up to cradle your arms, thumbs brushing soothingly against the fabric of your his hoodie. “don’t stress, angel. it’s okay.”

“but you said you needed it for tonight,” you mumbled, guilt creeping up your spine. “i should’ve double-checked—”

“and i should’ve labeled mine.” he gave a small laugh, pulling you closer, tucking your head under his chin with that easy warmth that always made your chest flutter. “it’s not a big deal. really.”

you swore you saw seungmin choke on a laugh in your peripheral vision.

your eyes flicked sideways, just in time to catch him turning away, phone suddenly so interesting he might’ve been reading the terms and conditions. his shoulders were shaking, just barely.

felix either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it.

“i’m gonna head out again to drop this off,” he said, voice still soft, fingertips lingering at your elbow for a second longer before letting go.

you nodded, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “right. of course.”

“thanks for coming all the way back,” he added, gaze warm and fond, like you’d just done something heroic instead of, well, returning the thing you accidentally stole. he gave your arm one last squeeze. “text me when you get home, yeah?”

“i will.”

then he was gone, door shutting behind him with a soft click.

and the very second it closed, seungmin’s voice rang out from behind you.

“that was disgusting.”

you turned.

“excuse me?”

he didn’t even look up from his phone. “you took his drive and somehow walked away with a hug, and a thank you.”

you opened your mouth to argue.

then closed it.

“okay, but—”

“nope. don’t justify it.” seungmin pointed his phone at the door.

you rolled your eyes, hoisting your bag over your shoulder, but the words stuck with you. warmed you a little too much. annoyingly so.

still, you couldn’t help yourself.

“he’s still a person. he’s not, like… impervious to irritation.” you muttered, half to yourself, half to the room. “if i pissed him off enough, he’d crack,”

seungmin didn’t even flinch. “tell me when that ever happens.”

you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “you know i’m gonna try to, just to prove you wrong.”

“mhm,” seungmin said flatly, not even looking up. “60 bucks. you have a week.”

“60 bucks,” you repeated. “i’m gonna find his limit,” you said, dead serious. “he has to have one.”

“good luck.”

you’d been thinking about it for days. how to do it, how to gently prod at the edge of felix’s limits without actually hurting him. you weren’t trying to be cruel. you just wanted to see something other than that permanent calm. you wanted to prove he could feel sharp things, too. that he wasn’t made of clouds and soft blankets and baked cookies.

jealousy. that was your angle.

was felix ever jealous? you genuinely didn’t know. he’d never so much as blinked when people flirted with you—though to be fair, you’d never exactly flirted back. you never had a reason to and you never wanted to.

but now, you needed a reaction.

so when your company hosted a casual dinner event—open to significant others and friends—you didn’t hesitate to bring felix. he looked unfairly good that night, dressed in soft black slacks and a black button up that hugged his torso a little too well. his hand found yours under the table the second you sat down, thumb stroking slow, lazy circles against your palm like always.

you were seated at a long table with a mix of coworkers and guests, plates being passed around, wine glasses clinking gently, hearty laughter filling the room.

he was beside you, close and always tuned in to you.

but the guy on your other side was friendly. talkative. a little too charming. you leaned into it. just enough to have felix notice.

you laughed at something the guy said—tilting your head just slightly, gently hitting his arm in that way that could maybe be seen as flirty. maybe. you were careful.

felix didn’t say a word.

he was smiling, even. still soft spoken. still squeezing your hand every now and then. still brushing your thigh under the table with his when he shifted in his seat. he even leaned in at one point and murmured, “you okay?”

you nodded, playing it cool. “mhm. just chatting.”

felix grinned. that same soft, sunny smile that always made you feel like you were the only one in the room.

“alright,” he said, brushing your cheek with his knuckle before pulling back like nothing was even slightly off.

he went back to being quiet and polite. still engaged in the conversation going around the table, nodding at someone’s story, chiming in with a laugh when appropriate. he didn’t stiffen. didn’t narrow his eyes. didn’t even glance at the guy beside you like he might be competition.

you sat there smiling and nodding at whatever work guy was saying about his vacation to bali, but your stomach was knotting. tighter by the second.

because you knew what you were doing. you knew exactly how much you were leaning. exactly when you let your laugh ring just a little louder, your fingers trail just a little longer.

but felix wasn’t reacting.

or at least he wasn’t reacting the way you expected.

he was still him. gentle. and he could’ve been using this moment to get back at you.

there were plenty of chances. the woman across the table who complimented his accent. the one seated diagonally, sipping wine and laughing just a little too brightly at his jokes. one even asked him how his skin was so clear and if he worked out—which, in fairness, was a valid question.

felix didn’t take the bait. he was polite, as always. gracious, even. gave small answers. thanked them with a nod and a smile. but he didn’t engage.

he didn’t lean in. didn’t offer even an ounce of attention that could be mistaken as anything more than manners.

and slowly—almost like he was aware of your internal panic creeping in—his knee pressed against yours beneath the table. then reached for his water glass and poured some into yours before you could even realize it was empty.

this wasn’t going to work.

you weren’t going to rattle him. you weren’t going to get that possessiveness, that glint of jealousy in his eyes.

because felix didn’t play games.

not with you.

he loved you out loud, completely, and without keeping score. he didn’t need to punish you or mirror your actions to prove a point. he didn’t flinch under pressure. he didn’t crack under quiet provocations.

this wasn’t going to work.

it had been a few days since the whole work dinner experiment—since felix had unknowingly, demolished your plan by doing absolutely nothing except love you the way he always did. respectfully. infuriatingly.

but you weren’t done.

not yet.

jealousy didn’t work, sure. but irritation? that had potential. everyone had a limit, and you were determined to find felix’s.

you were at his place now—technically his and seungmin’s—kitchen lights warm, sleeves rolled up, and flour already dusting the countertop like early snow.

the goal today was mild sabotage. nothing irreversible. nothing that would actually ruin the cake. just… enough sugar to make it way too sweet. enough to maybe make him sigh. maybe scold you a little. maybe just something.

you waited until he stepped away to grab a new mixing bowl, and then—quietly—you dumped in an extra quarter cup. maybe a little more.

by the time he came back, you were standing innocently with the spatula, gently folding the batter like you hadn’t just committed a culinary crime.

he paused. looked at the bowl. then looked at you.

“…did you add too much sugar?”

he caught you. you blinked up at him. “no?”

he hummed. scooped a bit of batter on his finger. tasted it.

and then, smiled?

“if you wanted it sweeter, you could’ve just told me,” he said, voice playful, handing you a towel to wipe your fingers off. “i’m gonna balance it so it doesn’t taste like pure syrup.”

you sighed loudly, dramatic, flopping back against the counter. “this is so annoying.”

he laughed and leaned past you to grab a lemon from the fruit bowl.

“go chop up some of the fruit, okay? i’ll deal with this.”

you looked at seungmin, who hadn’t said a word. he gave you a look that screamed pathetic.

you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to the cutting board, muttering under your breath.

great. jealousy failed. sabotage failed. what were you supposed to do now? bake the cake upside down? hide the eggs?

you didn’t know.

you really didn’t know anymore.

your plan—whatever it had been—was slipping through your fingers. and the worst part? you kind of… didn’t want to push anymore. felix had been so patient, so kind through all of it, and suddenly, you just felt silly. immature. you had something good, and you were trying to poke holes in it just to see if it would leak.

lost in thought, you didn’t even realize how close your fingers were to the blade until it was too late.

the knife slipped.

there was a sharp sting.

you yelped, the sound cutting through the warm haze of the kitchen as the knife clattered onto the counter and fruit scattered everywhere.

“ah!” you gasped, clutching your hand. blood was already rising.

felix’s head snapped up instantly. “what happened?”

you stepped back, breath shallow but trying your hardest to stay calm. “i just cut myself.”

he was already there. crossing the kitchen faster than you’d ever seen him move, his hands reaching out to check your fingers, but the moment he saw the blood, his eyes darkened.

“what were you even doing?” he snapped, voice sharper than the knife that slipped. he grabbed a towel with jerky, frustrated movements, wrapping it around your wound with practiced precision but no softness. “were you even paying attention?”

your lips parted, stunned. “i—i don’t know, i was just—”

“you weren’t thinking,” he cut in, tone clipped.

his voice rose. that low, velvety rasp he usually used to whisper sweet things into your ear was now slicing through the air.

“for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, shaking his head, “i asked you to do one simple thing. not play with the goddamn knife.”

you stared at him, completely disarmed. not just by the tone. but by how he looked.

chest rising and falling under his fitted sweater, sleeves pushed back just enough to show the flex of his forearms. his jaw clenched, eyes dark with something deeper than just irritation. he looked… furious. and so hot.

your mouth went dry.

you couldn’t stop staring at the way felix was breathing, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, like he was trying to bite back whatever else he wanted to say. his hands, still stained with flour, flexed at his sides. every muscle in his jaw was tense.

seungmin stood up, crossing the kitchen to the cabinet. nothing was gonna progress if you stayed there ogling at felix's mad state.

he grabbed the first aid kit, crouching beside the chair you’d sunk into. he opened it like lee felix hadn’t just snapped for the first time in recorded history.

“here,” he said, pulling out some antiseptic and a band-aid. “don’t bleed on the tile. it’s ugly enough already.”

you gave him a weak glare, but he just smirked.

felix hadn’t moved. he was still standing there, looking at the floor now, his expression twisted as if he was starting to come to his senses

“you got really worked up there, man,” seungmin said, tone light but clearly pointed.

that made felix move. he blinked like he was coming out of something, then turned toward you—eyes wide now, voice quiet.

“i’m sorry, baby” he said.

you didn’t say anything for a second. just stared at him, still a little stunned by the whiplash.

but even now, with his shoulders slumped and his tone apologetic, he still looked good. still had that anger simmering just under the surface. still had you simmering.

you swallowed hard.

“it’s okay felix,” you said slowly.

seungmin raised a brow but said nothing, silently peeling the wrapper off a band-aid.

felix crouched in front of you, his hand ghosting over yours. his voice was soft again, almost too soft.

“i won’t yell like that again,” he murmured.

you blinked at him, and for a second you wanted to say don’t promise that.

because the way his voice had cracked when he was angry. the way he looked at you like your carelessness shot him. the way he was filled with something that wasn’t just rage, but deep concern—you hadn’t expected it to do something to you.

but he was still doing everything out of love.

even when his voice rose and his hands tightened and his eyes darkened—he was still the same felix. still checking if you were okay. still apologizing even though you had started this whole mess.

and somehow, that made it worse.

you hadn’t even pissed him off correctly. not really. he didn’t yell because you were annoying. he yelled because you were bleeding and he didn’t know how else to handle the sudden fear curling in his gut.

and now he was kneeling in front of you, shame written in every line of his face, like he had done something unforgivable.

you wished he hadn't come down from it so fast.

you wished—maybe more than anything—that he knew he didn’t have to keep being perfect for you to love him.

you didn’t know what else to do.

jealousy had failed. sabotage had failed. even blood hadn’t done it right. every attempt chipped at something inside you—your confidence, your ego, your grasp on what you were even trying to prove. and yet…

seungmin had texted you the evening of the baking incident: [that was a close one] [but it didn’t count. try harder.]

you'd stared at it for a long time.

one last attempt.

if you couldn’t get felix to be mad at you, then maybe you could make him lose control somewhere else.

which is why he was between your thighs right now.

you were sprawled across his bed, hips twitching, sheets clutched in your fists.

felix was eating you out like it was a mission. like you were something sacred, and he had all the time in the world to worship every inch of you.

his mouth was obscene. lips slick, tongue working you open so slowly you wanted to scream. and he kept murmuring things between licks.

felix’s tongue traced a slow line up your slit, lips closing over your clit with a tenderness that made your hips twitch. he groaned softly into you, the sound vibrating through your core like a low hum of devotion, and his arms curled tighter around your thighs, anchoring you in place. every motion was soaked in patience. you were trembling, half mad with need already, and all he’d done was kiss you like he loved you—which, of course, he did.

“taste so good, angel… always so sweet for me, aren’t you?”

“f—felix…” your voice broke on his name, hands knotted in the sheets. he just hummed again, content like he could spend the rest of his life here, lips gliding over your clit, tongue flicking in slow, perfect circles that had your thighs quivering. he was gentle, so gentle. like you were the only thing in the world worth touching delicately.

and maybe that was the problem.

you were panting, already so close and he hadn’t even slipped a finger inside yet. you could feel your orgasm mounting fast, could feel the heat blooming in your belly, the ache curling in your spine, and you knew what would come next. he’d hold you through it. he’d kiss your thighs, murmur praise, make you feel like you were the center of the universe.

you were already trembling, one hand fisting in his sheets, the other tangled in his hair, breath coming in staggered whines. he didn’t speed up. didn’t deviate. tongue curling soft and hot over your clit again and again until your hips twitched and a ragged moan slipped out without thinking.

and then he paused. just for a second.

his eyes lifted to yours, warm and glassy, lips shiny with you.

“shhh, darling…” he whispered, and the way he said it made your stomach flip. “seungmin’s in the living room, remember?”

your chest heaved. right. he always reminded you. because you’d confessed once—embarrassed and flushed, the sheet pulled up to your chin after a particularly loud session—that you hated the idea of his roommate hearing. and since then, felix had always made sure to keep things quiet. to warn you. to soothe you when your voice got too high, your cries too desperate. he’d press a kiss to your throat, a hand hovering over your mouth, shushing you.

but tonight, something changed in you.

you weren’t going to hold back.

so when his mouth dipped again, lips closing over your clit in a slow, gentle suck, you let it out. a high, shaky moan that cracked at the end, followed by a breathless, “fuck, felix.”

he froze.

lifted his head.

his mouth was still glistening, chin slick with you, flushed and beautiful in that way that always made your stomach twist. but his brows were drawn, just slightly, and his voice—when it came—was low and firm, not scolding but edged with something you didn't know he had.

“hey.” his thumb stroked up your inner thigh, slow but deliberate. “quiet down.”

it wasn’t a soft reminder like before. it was certainty a command.

and of course it did something to you.

your breath hitched, thighs twitching around his shoulders as the authority in his tone settled in your chest.

you pouted. just a little. “why?”

his eyes narrowed. there was a flicker of disbelief there, like he didn’t quite believe you were pushing this boundary.

“because kim seungmin’s out there,” he said, slower this time, more deliberate, as if you’d forgotten. “and you hate being overheard.”

you shrugged, arching your back slightly, enough to grind your hips closer to his face again. “maybe i changed my mind.”

his eyes flicked to your cunt, glistening and shamelessly on display, then back up to your face. his expression had shifted. no longer just disbelief. something darker had crept in now. it was possessive and sharp.

“well i don’t want him to hear you.”

the words were flat. he meant it.

you blinked, breath catching.

“i don’t want anyone hearing what you sound like when i’ve got you like this,” he continued, leaning in until you could feel the heat of his breath against your inner thigh.

you bit your lip, the heat rising in your face. in your chest.

“but…” you started, trying to keep your tone airy. “you always do what i want.”

that did it.

you watched his jaw clench tighter, watched the tension rise in his shoulders, watched the composure crack. just a little.

felix rose slowly, and settled over you, forearm bracketing your head, chest brushing yours as he leveled his face just above yours.

you felt it instantly.

gone was the usual ease in his posture, the pliant softness you always leaned into. what loomed above you now wasn’t your sweet, sunny felix—it was the part of him he always held back, the part that simmered under the surface like magma, always contained, until you poked at it.

and tonight you’d done nothing but poke.

he leaned in again, slow, like a feline in tall grass, and planted his palm flat against the mattress beside your head. his voice was soft now, but laced with something that made your spine arch—authority and control.

“you really think i don’t know?”

you swallowed hard.

“that you’ve been bratty for days,” he said, like it was fact. like it was math. “flirting with that guy at dinner. cutting your hand because you couldn’t stand that i didn’t break. ”

your cheeks flamed, breath catching, but you still held the edge in your smile.

“i was just distracted—”

his hand moved fast, gripping your jaw, enough to make you stop talking.

“don’t,” he said. “don’t give me that look.”

your heart kicked up behind your ribs. he’d never grabbed your face like that before. never interrupted nor spoke like that.

it made your thighs press together. instinctive.

and he noticed.

he dipped closer, forehead brushing yours, and you could feel his heart beating in time with yours.

“you think i haven’t been watching you push?” he hissed. “every. little. act.”

you whimpered, lips parting, but he kept going.

“you’ve been begging for this,” he said, biting out the words. “not out loud. but with every goddamn thing you’ve done.”

you shivered.

“and you think i don’t see you?” he growled. “you think i don’t know exactly what that look means?”

his fingers tightened on your jaw, tilting your face toward his—close enough to kiss, but he didn’t. he just held you there, breath brushing your lips, eyes burning through you.

“tell me the truth,” he said, voice a warning, a promise. “tell me what you want.”

you could barely breathe.

your voice came out thin, cracked around the edges. “you, like this…” your eyes were wide, lashes wet, trembling as you looked up at him. “this is what i want.”

felix didn’t flinch.

didn’t soften.

he just stared, his grip on your jaw unrelenting, eyes dark and unforgiving as they searched your face—saw the way you shook beneath him, the way your thighs pressed together, the way your chest rose and fell in shallow, panicked little gasps.

“of course it is,” he said flatly.

you blinked.

he tilted your face up a little more, so much that it hurt your neck to hold the position. his voice dropped, hard and disgusted. “look at you. shaking like a leaf, soaking the fucking sheets—just because i stopped being nice.”

you winced.

but your cunt clenched hard.

his words were true. and he knew it. you weren’t just turned on. you were feral. dripping and desperate, your shame crawling over your skin like fire ants—but still, the burn felt good.

“you’re pathetic,” he said, letting go of your jaw like your skin burned his fingers.

he pushed you back roughly, your bound wrists catching against the bed as your shoulders hit the mattress. his hands were already on your thighs, spreading them open without care. not gentle.

like you were his and he was sick of pretending otherwise.

“you want to be hated, don’t you? love isn’t it for you?” he muttered, gaze locked on your slick cunt as he stroked two fingers through the mess between your legs.

your hips bucked.

“well,” felix said, voice like gravel dragged slow across glass, “if that’s what you want…”

his fingers sank into you—two at once, fast, merciless. your body jolted, a high cry tearing from your throat before you could stop it. he twisted his wrist, curled just right, and you felt the tremble start in your toes.

“i’ll give it to you.”

you gasped, back arching. “y-you don’t mean that,” you choked, words splintering on a sob. “you love me—”

“i’m gonna fuck you like i don’t.” he said, without softness.

his fingers pulled free. you barely had a second to breathe before he shoved your thighs wide, leaned over, and pressed his cock to your dripping cunt—still wet.

he held there.

right at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing just enough to make you squirm, to make your hips buck in desperate little jerks that only dragged the moment out longer. he could’ve slammed in. could’ve torn the rest of you open in a single thrust, left you breathless and sobbing.

but he didn’t.

because under all that dark fire, under the roughness and anger, he was still him. still good. still your felix.

his jaw was tight, the muscle ticking as he looked down at you—ruined and trembling, legs spread wide, wrists bound and face flushed with lust and tears. he blinked, and for a second, just a second, you saw the question flicker through his expression.

“is that what you want?” he asked.

he was still offering you a way out. still giving you that choice even though the answer was clear.

you knew it for what it was.

you nodded, frantic. fast. moaning as you tried to roll your hips, tried to force him inside again, but his grip on your thigh only tightened.

“talk to me,” he rasped, a thread of control still clinging to him.

you blinked at him through the haze, a smile curling on your lips—half brat, half breathless.

“yes,” you said, voice thin and greedy. “yes, i want it. i want you to fuck me like you’re sick of me. like i finally got under your skin.”

he cursed.

low and vicious.

you saw it—the moment that final wall crumbled, the way the storm in his eyes finally spilled over. his cock pushed in deep, slow at first. he wanted to draw it out, make it last.

but then your cunt clenched—tight and wet and fluttering around him—and he snapped.

“you did,” he growled, pulling back and slamming in hard enough to make the bed jolt, your cry piercing the room. “you fucking did.”

his hips snapped forward again. it was harder this time, the rhythm punching out choked sounds from your throat with every thrust. not words anymore. just ragged little whimpers, helpless and high, your whole body jostling beneath him as he used you—fucked you—with none of the gentleness you’d always known.

“you wanted this,” he spat, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his hairline onto your chest as he folded you tighter, pushing your thighs up toward your shoulders to drive in even deeper. “you fucking asked for it.”

you sobbed—messy and wet as the tears finally spilled. they streaked hot down your cheeks, dripping into your hair, your jaw slack with pleasure too sharp to feel good and too good to survive. your wrists twisted uselessly in their binds, fingers curling tight as your whole body tried to keep up with the pace of him.

it was too much.

it was everything.

he growled—an actual growl, guttural—as he looked down at you, at the tears rolling over your cheeks, at the way your mouth opened and closed, begging silently for something neither of you could name.

his rhythm never faltered.

not once.

he watched your face twist with every thrust. watched you come apart. and even then, you couldn't stop.

your lips trembled open around another sob, your voice half-hoarse, but still you met his glare with a shaky smirk, eyes glazed and bratty to your last breath.

“i never knew you were capable of being mean,” you gasped, voice cracking as you arched under him.

he groaned, something between pain and disbelief, and slammed in so deep you screamed, your entire body jolting up the bed from the force of it.

“because i love you,” he growled, voice so low it scraped the inside of your chest. “i’ve only ever tried to treat you well. like you matter. like you’re everything to me.”

he leaned in closer, one hand pressing hard into your hip, the other curling around your throat.

“but that’s not what you wanted, was it?”

you sobbed. not an answer. it was just a pathetic sound.

he dipped lower, lips barely brushing yours. “you wanted this. you wanted me mean. you wanted me to use you, and now you’ve got it.”

his cock dragged out slow, and then drove back in so hard your moan broke on your tongue.

“you never wanted soft.”

you blinked up at him, tears hot and sticky down your temples, your mouth quivering.

“i was—” you panted, a hiccupped cry catching in your chest, “i was trying to prove a point.”

he sneered, not stopping, pounding into you like he wanted to fuck the brat right out of your soul.

“to who, y/n?” he hissed, words snapping like whips.

you moaned, high and messy, because you were still so turned on, because the way he said your name made your body sing even while you trembled.

“who?” he shouted again, voice rising.

and you said it.

whimpered it.

half-mindless, but not mindless enough.

“seungmin.”

felix went still.

then he laughed.

it was low. bitter. a hollow sound of disbelief as his hand slid up the length of your thigh, slow and mocking, his cock still throbbing just barely inside you.

“fucking knew it,” he muttered, more to himself than you, jaw tight as he gave a small, almost deranged shake of his head. “you and him. the way you bicker. the way you look at each other.”

his hand curled around your throat again, thumb dragging over the mess of tears smeared across your cheek. not to wipe them.

just to feel them.

“and of course you’d moan his name out while i’m balls deep in you.”

you gasped, breath stuttering under the press of his palm, legs twitching around his hips.

he laughed again—sharper now, teeth flashing in the low light. “fucking pathetic.”

you whimpered.

“here i am,” he snarled, voice dropping to a whisper, “treating you like you’re mine—spending months giving you everything. holding you when you cry. spoiling you.”

he slammed into you again, cruel and sudden.

you screamed, head snapping back.

“and you’ve been pushing me,” he said, voice quiet, almost calm—but beneath it, something was cracking.

another thrust, hard and fast, punching a choked cry out of your lungs.

“all of that just to prove a point to kim seungmin?”

your mouth dropped open. it was useless and silent, your head lolling on the pillow as his cock hit that deep, devastating spot again and again, your body unable to hide how badly you were still enjoying it.

he sneered. “do you even understand what you’re doing?”

your eyes flicked to him—lashes soaked—and your lips moved, trying to form a denial. but you couldn’t lie.

not with your cunt sucking him in so greedily. not with the moans that still clawed up your throat even when you bit down on them. not with the guilt chewing holes through your stomach while your body begged for more.

“i-i wasn’t trying to—” you whispered, but he cut you off.

“you weren’t trying?”

he laughed. dark and sharp and filled with something that sounded like it hurt his ribs to release.

“you’re worse than i thought,” he spat, pulling out just enough to let the next thrust slam in deeper. “you don’t even know what game you’re playing. you’re playing me, you’re playing him—”

you didn’t know anymore.

if he was really mad. if this was just another version of his anger wrapped in arousal, or if something had actually shattered under the weight of everything you’d done. you couldn’t tell if he meant the things he said—or if he was just saying them because it was what you’d pushed for until something inside him snapped.

all you knew was that your head was spinning, your lungs barely worked, and your body couldn’t stop trembling around him.

“i’m close,” you whimpered, your voice a rasp, broken and high and soaked in panic, “felix, please—”

he didn’t slow. if anything, he fucked you harder.

you were sobbing now, face sticky with tears, wrists straining in the binds as your body shook from the pressure curling tighter and tighter in your belly.

“i don’t think you deserve to cum,” he hissed, biting the words like they tasted foul. “not after what you did. you little bitch.”

the word slapped.

“i’m sorry,” you cried, the words tumbling out, raw and hoarse and true. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it, i didn’t, felix, please, i’m so sorry, let me cum—”

and for a second, just a second, something shifted in his face. his eyes—not all the way, but just a little—softened.

he looked down at you, at your flushed face, your tear-soaked skin, your body trembling and still trying to push back against him, even through the guilt, even through the shame. begging for him.

he cursed under his breath. a low, ragged sound.

then he pulled out.

you whined—sharp and instinctive, your whole body lurching, chasing him.

“no, please—”

but he grabbed your hips and turned you, until you were flat on your stomach, then dragging you up to your knees.

he leaned in, lips at your ear, voice back to that whisper.

“all fours.”

you scrambled to obey, tears still dripping from your chin onto the sheets, your ass high, back arched, your pussy swollen and dripping.

he stared for a long second.

then, flatly:

“prove it. prove your sorry.”

he knelt behind you, one hand resting on your lower back, the other wrapped around the curve of your ass—fingers digging in, spreading you open so wide the air hit your cunt like ice.

but he didn’t move.

“you want to cum so badly?” he said, voice low and flat, unreadable, like it didn’t matter either way. “do it yourself.”

you blinked, stunned.

he gripped your ass harder, a sharp squeeze that made you jolt forward, but he didn’t move to stop you.

“come on,” he said, the cruelty now bitter. “you were so good at playing games earlier.”

your whole body shook.

you whimpered once and then moved. slowly. shamefully.

you rocked your hips back. tentative at first. your slick folds kissed the head of his cock and you moaned, soft and strangled, before pushing further, inching down onto him until the stretch began to burn again. your was cunt pulsing with how close you were, how desperately your body wanted him to take over.

but he didn’t.

“make yourself cum,” he snapped, voice tighter now.

you nodded, rocking your hips again. you slid down fully this time, burying him inside, your body jerking as your sob turned to a long, high cry. your knees were slipping, your arms too bound to help you balance, and every time you moved your hips, your body twitched with the effort.

he just watched.

watched you ride his cock without rhythm, without grace. his hands stayed on your ass, holding it open, holding you wide for him to see.

but he didn’t help. you were doing it alone.

“felix, i can’t—”

“you wanted this.”

each roll of your hips got weaker. your knees buckled inward, the sheer weight of him inside you unbearable.

your arms were still bound, chest pressed into the sheets. you tried to keep going. but your body wouldn’t move.

you shook your head, weakly, voice cracking as you rasped, “i—i can’t… i can’t do it…”

you felt his exhale first—long and deep. then the weight of his hands on your hips shifted. and his voice followed, low and so done.

“of course you can’t.”

you shivered.

“you couldn’t even fuck yourself properly,” he muttered, hands gripping your hips with new purpose. “you begged for this. cried for it. ruined both of us trying to prove something—and now you can’t even finish what you started?”

you sobbed but that was all he gave you time for. because he snapped his hips forward. you screamed, head slamming into the pillow, the thrust knocking your whole body up the bed.

and then he didn’t stop.

he fucked into you from behind, deep and punishing, dragging you back onto his cock with every stroke, the sound of skin on skin wet and violent, your cries rising in pitch until you couldn’t hold anything in anymore.

“isn’t this what you wanted?” he growled, voice right at your ear now, one hand on the back of your neck, the other gripping your waist so tight it burned. “to get used like this? to cry on my dick and act like you’re sorry?”

your throat was raw, your eyes stinging, your body screaming with the oncoming wave, your orgasm building so hard it almost felt like pain.

“felix, fuck—i’m gonna—”

his pace didn’t stutter.

didn’t falter.

“yeah?” he breathed, his voice a rasp, full of hate and heat and something so possessive it twisted your stomach. “that’s right.”

his thrusts turned vicious, his cock pounding into you, his voice ragged and shaking.

“cum then.”

and you did.

you came with a scream—full-bodied, wrecked, your spine arching like it was trying to tear free from your skin. it hit so hard you thought for a second you might black out. your pussy clamped down around him, fluttering and pulsing in rhythmic spasms, gushing slick down his cock in hot, wet waves that soaked your thighs and his lap and the sheets beneath you.

felix groaned. a sound ripped from the very pit of his chest, primal and deep, his pace faltering for the first time as he felt it. felt you soak him. felt you break.

“fuck, ” he hissed, rutting through the mess of your orgasm, the loud slap of his hips against your soaked skin. “you’re dripping, baby, fuck, you’re making such a mess.”

you sobbed into the sheets, body twitching, overstimulation crawling up your spine like static. but he wouldn’t let up.

and then—slowly, like the fire had finally started to burn itself out—his rhythm began to falter. just a little. his groans turned heavier, strained, his thrusts rougher but less precise. his body hunched forward, chest heaving, cock throbbing inside you as he buried himself one last time.

he shuddered against your back, hips twitching as he came inside of you, the warmth of it spilling deep and raw, filling you in heavy bursts. he stayed there for a moment, his hands slowly loosening their grip on your hips, breath ghosting against your shoulder.

then, gently, slowly, his body folded over yours.

his forehead pressed to the space between your shoulder blades. his chest to your back. one hand slid forward and rested just beneath your ribs.

he stayed there, breathing with you.

then, he eased back.

he softly slid one palm down the arch of your spine. then came the slow shift of his hips. his cock slipped out, so tender in contrast to everything before.

you whimpered from the loss and the mess. his wascum already spilling out of you in lazy drips, sliding down your thighs, thick and warm, clinging to the backs of your knees as gravity pulled it down. you twitched from the sensitivity, your body still trembling in little aftershocks, your hips useless, your arms limp where they lay tangled and bound under your chest.

you heard the faint shuffle of a drawer, the rustle of fabric, the hiss of warm water being poured. your eyes fluttered closed, head sinking into the pillow, your whole body too loose to lift.

you barely registered the soft wet cloth between your thighs until it was there. he held you gently, one hand under your hip to tilt you, the other cleaning you with slow, careful strokes, wiping away the slick, the sweat, the release still dripping out of you.

he then settled you on clean sheets, wrapped a new blanket over your shoulders.

still nothing.

not a single word.

but he lay beside you, close but not pressed in, his fingers brushing soft through your hair, over your temple, down the curve of your jaw. you blinked slow and you opened your eyes.

and there he was.

your felix.

bathed in the low light of the room, hair a tousled halo of gold against the pillow, freckles blooming soft across his cheeks, lips pink and parted just barely. he looked tired. beautiful. like something that shouldn’t exist outside a dream.

you loved it. all of it. the softness now. the brutality before.

the way he made space for every version of you. the way he let himself be more than just the sun.

“i love you, felix.”

his hand stilled, resting against your cheek. his eyes softened then blinked, and they turned glassy.

“i love you too,” he whispered, his voice low, husky, still thick with the weight of everything.

you gave a little smile, lids already starting to droop again, your limbs heavy under the blanket he’d wrapped around you.

“i wouldn’t want you any other way,” you murmured.

that made him laugh.

and then you laughed too. barely a sound, more breath than voice, your smile curling into the pillow as your eyes slipped closed again.

he stayed beside you.

his fingers returned to your hair, softer than ever now, smoothing it back from your face as your breathing evened out, your body finally letting go.

and when you fell asleep, it was in silence.

the next morning, you woke slowly—warm, sore in all the right places, and still tangled in the soft scent of felix. the sheets around you were a little crooked, the pillow beside you empty.

you blinked blearily and reached for your phone, but it wasn’t the screen that caught your eye.

there was a note. folded and sitting neatly on the nightstand.

recording right now, but i’ll be back soon. pour yourself a cup of coffee. i love you! – lix ♡

you smiled—small, sleepy, still a little ruined from the night before. the words made your chest ache and flutter all at once. he hadn’t said anything heavy. no apologies. no over-explanations. just soft and simple. just felix.

you stretched out your limbs, wincing slightly at the ache before dragging yourself out of bed and into one of felix’s oversized sweaters and boxers.

barefoot and quietly smug, you padded down the hallway into the kitchen.

and there he was.

seungmin.

leaning against the counter in sweats and a hoodie, eyes fixed on his phone, coffee half-drunk on the table beside him. he looked up when he heard you and you did what anyone would do after getting absolutely obliterated in the next room over by his bandmate.

you pretended nothing happened.

“morning,” you said, voice light, moving straight to the coffee pot. “didn’t think you’d be up.”

“i’ve been up,” he said simply.

you nodded and reached for a mug—felix’s, the pale blue one with the tiny chip in the rim—and poured yourself a cup. steam curled up around your face, and you focused on it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

and then you felt it.

his presence. he stepped closer. closer.

you didn’t dare turn around.

then, casually—like it was nothing—he reached over your shoulder and set something on the counter in front of you.

sixty bucks in cash.

you stared at the bills for a second.

then turned.

slowly.

seungmin was already taking a sip of his coffee, eyes flicking to yours over the rim of his mug.

“congrats.”

your mouth twitched, the corner pulling into the smallest smile.

you looked down at the cash again and without saying anything, you plucked the bills off the counter and shoved them straight into the front pocket of felix’s hoodie like you’d just been handed your trophy.

“you really thought i wouldn’t pull it off?” you asked, turning back to your coffee, tone breezy.

“i hoped you wouldn’t,” he deadpanned. “i was rooting for the soft boy.”

you huffed a laugh, lifting the mug to your lips. “he’s still soft.”

seungmin gave you a long, dry look.

you shrugged, eyes twinkling over the rim. “...just not all the time.”

he snorted.

then leaned back against the counter, sipping slow from his mug. “so,” he said casually, “how’d you do it?”

“do what?”

“make him snap.”

you licked your lips, fighting another smile. “i might’ve… slipped your name in there a few times.”

his eyes narrowed, slow. “yeah?”

“just—it got him pretty worked up.” you said, laughing as you set the mug down. seungmin stared for a beat.

then—he rolled his eyes. “of course it did.”

there was a long pause. not uncomfortable. just tension.

he said, quiet but clear, “tell him he doesn’t have anything to worry about.”

you nodded.

“i will.”

you stepped back slowly, letting the silence hold, and turned toward the hallway—when the front door clicked open.

both your heads turned.

felix stepped in, hair tied back, hoodie sleeves bunched at his elbows, a little windblown from the walk. his eyes lit up the moment he saw you.

“hey, angel,” he said, smile so warm it melted straight into your ribs.

you crossed the room in a few slow steps, rising onto your toes to meet him halfway. your hand curled around his jaw, thumb brushing the skin just below his cheekbone, and you kissed him.

his other hand found your waist immediately, like muscle memory, pulling you in as he smiled against your lips. he pulled away just enough to wrap his arms around you, tucking you into his chest. his chin rested lightly on top of your head, breath warm as it fanned through your hair.

you melted into him, your hands slipping under the hem of his hoodie, fingertips grazing the bare skin at his waist. his heart beat steady against your cheek, and you let yourself breathe him in.

then, behind you, a shift in the air.

felix’s gaze lifted—over your shoulder.

met seungmin’s across the room.

you didn’t see what was unraveling between the two of them.

after a moment, you pulled back slightly, enough to tilt your head and meet his eyes.

felix looked down at you with a smile. and that was all you needed.

#ty so so much for the love on this #4.6k is absolutely insane???!?!

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

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dude i’m so in awe with your writing. you write so real 😭 like it genuinely resonates w me!! looking forward to your next works 💙

i’m so sorry for replying so late but thank you so much for this message 😭 it genuinely means the world to me. i’m really grateful it resonated with you cuz that’s all i could ever hope for!

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

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WTS SKZ VIP TICKET ROME

hi friends i want to sell my Front Pit VIP ticket for ROME 30/07 as i won't be able to attend due to visa issues!

if you or anyone you know is interested please dm me. i'm selling it at lower than face value and im willing to negotiate the price!

pls reblog to spread :')

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

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omg i had this idea for a fic and i immediately ran to you for it

college felix x reader (i love everglow sm) where reader has freckles but hides them w makeup and felix finds out and is super betrayed bcs like, they could’ve been matching and she didn’t tell him ?? like it’s super fluffy and sweet and hes being so overdramatic about reader also having freckles

𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬

pairing: felix × gn!reader

content: just felix being dramatic and silly

a/n: tysm for loving everglow!! 🫶 i think this has been sitting in my inbox since february and.. i am so sorry. not a fic but i wrote out some fake texts thats hopefully better than nothing! i hope you're still hanging around and see this anon 😭

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

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my old banners are so ugly

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

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i went through a couple of my posts some 2023 and it's just pure word vomit. tell me why i did NOT know how to do correct pacing like did i not read it over every time i thought about posting something??? who told me i could post that

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pixiefelixie · 1 month ago

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i’ve noticed for a while now that so many fics have the exact same writing style and i never really knew why until this post connected a lot of dots for me.

but i also think it’s important not to judge every writer based on these patterns alone. i’ve definitely noticed some things that even i do that could be mistaken for ai like overusing em dashes and italics. i know how much effort goes into even one paragraph sometimes so i’d hate for any real writers to feel paranoid because of this conversation. also because there is so much ai being used across tumblr, writers who aren’t aware of it might unintentionally start adopting those patterns into their own writing style just by reading and absorbing what they see if that makes sense.

also that part about the inhuman posting is so real as well cus i’ve been posting tumblr for almost two years and i only have around 20 works. i couldn’t help noticing how much some blogs post in such a short amount of time so this cleared it up for me

this post clears this up so well. please take the time to read this

How to spot AI use in fics: an unofficial & friendly guide (July 2025)

Hi everyone~ I don’t think this post will come as a surprise to anybody. It is a joint effort with @cb97percent—a lot of the research you see on here is hers. We spent a considerable amount of time trying to understand ChatGPT in order to recognize its patterns. It doesn’t mean, however, that it helped us understand the people who sit in front of it, feed it a few prompts to generate fics, and then post those fics as theirs on here or onto other online spaces. That, I will never fathom.

But if you’re like me, like us, and like the few people who have voiced their wish to avoid those AI-assisted or AI-generated fics but have no idea what they might look like, this post might be for you. And… this other post, beautifully and eloquently put together by our very miss @cb97percent, shows a perhaps even darker side of the story. It displays GPT’s “personality”, and how people can spot it. (Because, yes—some of these accounts use it to interact with their audience)

It’s just tumblr, it’s just rpf/fanfic, why do I think it’s so important: because what happens in subculture spaces matters. What the audience chooses to read, to give notes/likes/reblogs/interactions to is a vote of sorts. You can see it as a form of election almost. What gets interactions prevails. So, readers cast their votes every day by scrolling the tags, sampling, reading, and then choosing to leave comments or interactions, or not. So if more and more people use AI to generate fics, post them on here, and if more of the audience gives them interactions, soon enough, it’s all that will remain on fanfic spaces.

And what happens in subculture spaces usually shifts in culture. We are already seeing it. By allowing it to happen in our online spaces, our ao3, our tumblr, and others, we are saying: let it happen in our novels, too. In our films, our video games, our music, our visual arts. And while I realize it’s pretty much inevitable, I decided I would not be passive about it.

So—a few tips to help notice AI-generated content in fics (but it got longer than I thought it would)

This is knowledge I gathered by running limited experiments primarily on ChatGPT and a little bit on Gemini. With time, those AIs will learn more and this post will be outdated for the most part. I am also NOT an expert at ALL. This is really just based on those experiments and the things I saw on tumblr or other fic spaces.

↬ Clinical language: Most fics are generated on ChatGPT. It has an unmistakable, clinical voice that mimics human emotion without actually breaching it—look for overly poetic sentences but short paragraphs + a lot of paragraphs breaks. The lyricism won't serve a purpose in the storytelling, it will be hollow. It's a strange feeling once you spot it: that line between clinical and lyric. Uncanny.

If you know me, you know I'm all for imagery and metaphors, but... The prompt here was two friends reunited after a long time + friends to lovers. Oh, and I should probably get this out of the way—GPT adores everything sacred and religious and holy. It might be an easy shortcut when there is yearning to be written—what else are you gonna do when you've never felt it or anything else?

You can see how quick it is to go from one thing to the other, there's no lingering on any emotion or feeling, just clean vocabulary, clinical, short sentences. And holy stuff. So much religious stuff.

↬ Dialogue tags: ask any seasoned author “how can I replace the ‘said’ dialogue tag and they’ll probably just tell you to use said. It's basically invisible and allows for a better flow in both reading and writing because it doesn't catch the eye. I found that ChatGPT sometimes used "said" and other times avoided it at all costs—there was no in-between. However, other times, it didn't really use any, since its sentences are so straightforward.

And then it will just throw any other words at you:

I've seen a lot—“You melt.” “You cling to him.” "He grins." All that stuff.

Also: This isn't something I can provide an example for because it's something you feel with your heart, but humans are awkward! They are uncomfortable in romantic or other situations. They have humor that relates to culture, to past experiences, to real life.

GPT is only creating an illusion of that. True love, but make it under 10k. To me, GPT's generated stuff feels like a collab between Hallmark movies and Booktok. It utilizes shortcuts to make readers think of emotions as opposed to authors who evoke them.

↬ Unusual text formatting: I’m aware that there have been trends on here with certain formatting styles with bold and italics for example. I’ve seen it in the last two-ish years in fics themselves, but in the last few months, with the growing use of AI, it’s exponential.

How a human author would use italics: to emphasize a word in a sentence, when there is a written letter in a chapter (or even a text message), song lyrics, etc. You get it.

How AI uses italics: Well, for a first, it uses it a lot. No, I mean, like. A LOT. It won’t just emphasize one word out of the sentence, it will emphasize entire parts of it using italics, which isn’t something that was ever typical in a novel-like genre before. Quick example:

How a human author would use boldface: maybe to emphasize a word in a paragraph that's already italicized, or I know sometimes people use it to mark the passage of time/time jumps, etc. It's really not something you see a lot in the text itself otherwise, except for occasional stylistic choices with purpose, or in text message format again (or chat, like a social media AU etc), something of the sort.

How AI uses boldface: well. It uses it a lot. I've seen it in all sorts of ways. Randomly on a character's name, or the first time a character is mentioned in a story/chapter. Chatgpt uses boldface on character's names a lot. Or on words of a sentence that the AI considers "dark" or more harsh. Example:

(was that another religious metaphor? what a surprise!) But I think those examples speak for themselves.

What about the em dash? Everyone's talking about the em dash.

Yeah well—I'm a huge fan of the em dash. (the irony...) It's true that AIs use them a lot, but so do many authors including myself.

HOWEVER, I've noticed something, and it's that in many cases, humans use the em dash without spaces between the words—like this. And the AIs often put a space between the dash and the word — like that. Because you see one or the other doesn't necessarily prove anything, I know, but I still thought I'd mention it.

↬ Random indented text: This is also something that a human can do, I'm aware. But ChatGPT, by default, uses indented text a lot (which are 'blockquotes' over there). I think it's because at it's core, it's a research tool and it's more of a visual thing. It'll give you a paragraph and then emphasize something using an indentation, making it look like note-taking almost.

In the case of fiction, of a fic—it'll use that indentation on a dialogue often. To me, it feels like it's doing it for some sort of dramatic effect or something. As such:

(in this example, the prompt was simple: a handsome, mysterious man named Jinu 🤭 meets MC for the first time. I didn't input any other specifics regarding context. It seems GPT made the location some coffee shop, a common booktok trope.)

By the way, you can't make this up. You have it all here: the blockquote/indented text, the italics, the boldface, the vocabulary and succinct sentences...

⇉ Why it's important: When you copy paste directly from the GPT website onto tumblr, those blockquotes adopt the "Indented" text format from the tumblr text editor. By default—so it could be a decent indicator of AI-assisted or generated text that hasn't even been edited to look otherwise.

It looks like this.

↬ Oat milk? : There was no place for these observations in this post but it is almost humorous the way ChatGPT suggested or reused some of the same flavors and scents over and over during this experiment. If GPT was a real person, it would be really into coffees or teas with oat milk (often no ice for cold drinks, or extra hot for warm) and vetiver-centered scents. I don't know what to do with this information, but I cannot unsee it. It really likes eucalyptus too, tonka bean... I'm not sure what it means, but I truly cannot unsee it. #whowantsanoatmilkcappuccino

↬ The rate at which works are posted: It takes a lot of time to write 10k words, and that's before all the revising, formatting, making your post banners (if applicable) etc. To be able to release this much every week is any author's wet dream, which would be desirable by many readers. But there's decent speed, then there's inhuman.

We all want to be this productive—but is it actually realistic? Over extended periods of time? Without periods of quiet, of struggle? Could even Stephen King himself pull it off? Run a blog full-time, answer asks elaborately with all this formatting (btw, it does take time to format on tumblr if you're not just copy/pasting from GPT), upkeep lore posts about our fics (GPT loves lore, by the way. don't know why. it really wants to give you lore and build around its own scenes), have little to no downtime.

This is really just my personal opinion, but this is how I know my author is human. A lack of time. Struggles. A crack in the porcelain. Incomplete WIPs, genuine excitation over them though. Incomplete events—but still trying. Trying different things in different stories. A voice that is theirs. Having a voice in the first place.

Writing out of passion and not as a performative act.

So... A continuous flow of content and posts... would bring in a lot of readers, I'm sure. People want to be entertained. Constantly. They want content and they want it from a reliable source, somewhere they know they won't have to wait for the next chapter. But when things are too good to be true—sometimes, it just means they are not true.

In conclusion—if anybody even made it this far—it can be difficult to spot a GPT in the wild when you've never seen it, or never known that you've seen it. Hopefully, this and miss cb's post would have been any help to those for whom it is the case.

At the very least, I hope it made a few people aware that it is a situation that is happening not just in other places, other fandoms, or just hypothetically. It is very real. And it will have an impact on the culture that you will consume in the future. I would love to say that it's not to late to change things, but I'm not sure it would be true.

But maybe, by making people a little more aware, we can give their voices back to some human authors, those who use their souls as ink—not shortcuts.

If you did make it to here, thank you—thank you for caring about what you read, and for encouraging and supporting the people who write it.

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