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rosylix143 · 1 month ago

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⭑.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

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—warm and unbothered, 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 that quiet, domestic way. the kind of boy who folded your laundry before you even remembered you’d done it.

even in bed—he was gentle. worshipful. like every touch was a question and you were the only answer. he was all murmured praise, soft sighs, 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, naturally—oversized and warm 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 his hoodie—the one you were wearing. “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, you know, 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 that soft click that always left the room feeling quieter somehow.

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

“god, 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 emotional limits without actually hurting him. you weren’t trying to be cruel. you just wanted to see something other than that unwavering calm, that endless warmth. you wanted to prove he could feel sharp things, too. that he wasn’t made of clouds and soft blankets and chamomile tea.

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. you didn’t want to.

but now, you needed a reaction.

just enough to light a spark. not enough to burn the house down.

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 frame 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, soft laughter filling the room.

he was beside you, of course—close and warm and always tuned in to you.

but the guy on your other side?

friendly. talkative. a little too charming in that “business casual” way. you leaned into it. not too obvious. just enough to let felix notice.

you laughed at something the guy said—tilting your head just slightly, touching his arm in that way that could maybe be seen as flirty. maybe. you were careful. just close enough to the line to toe it, not cross it.

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 just… him. gentle. warm. steady. 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 soft smile. but he didn’t engage.

didn’t lean in. didn’t flirt. didn’t offer even a flicker of attention that could be mistaken as anything more than manners.

and slowly—almost like he was aware of your internal panic creeping in—he started leaning in closer to you. gradually, without showiness. 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 flash of possessiveness, that glint of sharp 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.

he just was. wholeheartedly. constant. grounded.

this wasn’t going to work.

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

you blinked up at him. “no?”

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

and then—smiled. not annoyed. just… amused.

“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. chaos failed. sugar 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 unraveling, slipping through your fingers like flour dust in the air. 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. “i—i 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, something in him shifted.

“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, not yelling, but full-bodied, biting. that low, velvety rasp he usually used to whisper sweet things into your ear was now slicing through the air like it had teeth.

“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. unshakable. and so hot it was almost insulting.

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.

he grabbed the first aid kit, crouching beside the chair you’d sunk into. he opened it like this wasn’t the most charged atmosphere he’d ever stood in. like felix hadn’t just snapped for the first time in recorded history.

“here,” he said, pulling out some antiseptic and a few band-aids. “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 with something like regret.

seungmin didn’t let up.

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

that finally made felix move. he blinked like he was coming out of something, then turned toward you—eyes wide now, softer, 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 raw energy simmering just under the surface. still had you simmering.

you swallowed hard.

“it’s okay,” 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—just a second—you wanted to say don’t promise that.

because god, the way his voice had cracked when he was angry. the way he looked at you like your carelessness hurt him. the way he shook with something that wasn’t just rage, but deep, desperate 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. not because he was wrong—but because you agreed.

so now? one last attempt.

if you couldn’t get felix to be mad at you, then maybe—just 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, low and reverent.

felix’s tongue traced a slow, reverent 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, in worship. 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, god, 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—too 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 your permission.

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. right—he always told you. always so careful to remind you, not because he was annoyed, but 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 to your mouth, shushing you.

but tonight, something twisted 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 on 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 new.

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

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

and it did something to you.

your breath hitched, thighs twitching around his shoulders as the authority in his tone settled in your chest like a stone dropped into water—rippling outward, stirring everything.

still, something in you bristled.

not in defiance. not exactly.

but you couldn’t stop yourself.

you pouted. just a little. “why?”

his eyes narrowed. there was a flicker of disbelief there, a tension that rippled beneath the surface like he didn’t quite believe you were pushing this boundary.

“because 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 swollen and shamelessly on display, then back up to your face. his expression had shifted. no longer just disbelief. something darker had crept in now—possessive and sharp, curling like smoke at the edges of his voice.

“well i don’t want him to hear you.”

the words were quiet. flat. measured.

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, smoothly, like a tide pulling back before it crashes—and settled over you, forearms bracketing your head, chest brushing yours as he leveled his face just above yours.

you felt it instantly.

that shift.

gone was the usual ease in his posture, the warm, 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 tiger 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, finality, 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—not hard, just 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. never 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—hard, steady, controlled.

“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 hand grabbed your jaw, fingers firm, 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, enough 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.

the words cut. not because they were cruel—but because they were true. and he knew it. you weren’t just turned on. you were unraveling. dripping and desperate, your body buzzing from the tension, 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 reverent. not gentle.

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

“you want to be hated, don’t you? love isn’t enough 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—”

he laughed.

dark. sharp.

“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 from your own need, from the tears and the shame and the way his voice had stripped you bare.

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 and heat, he was still him. still sweet. still good. still 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 and something more fragile. he blinked, and for a second, just a second, you saw the question flicker through his expression.

“is that what you want?” he asked.

his voice had dropped low. he was still offering you a way out. still giving you that choice.

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, like 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—louder this time, harder, brutal enough to knock the air from your lungs, the rhythm punching out soft, choked sounds from your throat with every thrust. not words. not 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—quiet at first, then louder, 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, raw and 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.

even as your body broke beneath him—hips arching, wrists straining, cheeks soaked with tears that burned like proof—he kept going. kept fucking you with that same relentless pace, hips slamming against the backs of your thighs, the sound obscene, wet and cruel in the dark.

he watched your face twist with every thrust—watched you come apart, watched the edge of pleasure curdle into panic and drag you right back down into need.

and even then—you didn’t stop.

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 snarled, 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. just a broken, keening 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, thick and aching—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, not relenting, 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 and wrong, 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 with disbelief and something deeper—something unspoken that cracked open in his throat like it hurt to say.

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 bark 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 looks.”

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. folding your laundry. holding you when you cry.”

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. something brittle.

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—useless, 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—blurry, swimming, 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—” 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.

“god, 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 asked for, begged for, 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—i didn’t—felix, please, i’m sorry—”

and for a second, just a second, something shifted in his face.

his brow twitched. his grip faltered. 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 flipped you, fast and rough, until you were flat on your stomach, then dragging you up to your knees with no gentleness, no care.

he leaned in, lips at your ear, voice back to that quiet, dangerous 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 and empty.

he stared for a long second.

then, flatly:

“prove it. prove your sorry.”

he didn’t move.

not even a little.

just knelt behind you, one hand resting heavy 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. his cock stood thick and flushed against your thigh, glistening with everything he’d already taken from you. close. so close.

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. “then do it yourself.”

your breath caught.

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 instead of sharp. “you were so good at playing games earlier.”

your whole body shook.

you whimpered once—just one broken sound—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.

it wasn’t graceful. it wasn’t like when he took care of you.

it was work.

every inch felt like a trial. your legs trembled under the weight of it, thighs threatening to give out as you lowered yourself onto him, your breath coming in ragged sobs, your 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—sliding 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—just need. just ruin. 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.”

and so you kept going.

kept fucking yourself back on him, over and over, your movements messy and broken, your body trembling with the weight of everything you’d done—everything you’d wanted.

and as you cried, he gripped your ass harder, dragging his thumbs over the skin, watching your hole stretch around him like it was all you were good for.

your thighs were giving out.

completely.

each roll of your hips got weaker, sloppier—your knees buckling inward, your movements more tremble than thrust, the sheer weight of him inside you unbearable.

your arms were still bound, chest pressed into the sheets, your cries muffled now—raw and constant, more sob than sound—as 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, slamming into you again—chasing it now, 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 didn’t stop. wouldn’t let up. not now. not after all of it.

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—shaky, tentative—and rested just beneath your ribs.

he stayed there, breathing with you.

then, without a word, he eased back.

his chest lifted off yours, his grip on your hip released fully, and for a moment, the loss of contact felt colder than the air in the room. he slid one palm down the arch of your spine, a soft, absent stroke. then came the slow shift of his hips—his cock slipping out, careful and deliberate, so tender in contrast to everything before.

you whimpered from the loss and the mess—his cum 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—warm, soothing. 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—quiet, breathless, a sound like surrender.

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—expression unreadable—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.

#felix fic #stray kids #skz x reader #skz #straykids x reader #stray kids x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #felix skz #felix x reader

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rosylix143 · 1 month ago

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my finals are over!! back to writing fics hehehehehehehe

#espresso coming soooooonnn #how soon idk but i'm working on it TRUST #stray kids #skz #skz stay #bang chan #bang christopher chan #bang chan x reader #kpop #kpop fanfic

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rosylix143 · 1 month ago

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me when i realize that i have 26 days left until i see stray kids

#NO CUZ WDYM?!?!?#WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!?!?!?#i’ve been in denial for months and it’s hitting me omg #gonna actually die #stray kids #skz #skz stay #kpop

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rosylix143 · 1 month ago

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TOP GUN IS ON AMAZON PRIME AGAIN LIFE HAS MEANING😩😩😩😩

#HIGHWAY TO THE DANGER ZONE😫😫😫😫#maverick one chance pls #top gun #top gun 1986

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rosylix143 · 1 month ago

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If you’re looking to do a sequel for hallucination, maybe it can be about how Y/N’s mother had fallen in love with a siren while battling her own loveless marriage to the king. But instead of following her heart, she ended up going back to the kingdom where she ended up having Y/N, half human have siren. That’s why Jeongin felt that familiar connection you mentioned in the first one. Now that they were falling in love, Y/N discovers the truth about themselves and explores the deep sea with him?

or maybe Y/N was born the same way, used to live in the sea instead but after an attack of sorts her memories were wiped and she was sent to live on land with her father the king?

I don’t know, just food for thought.

first of all, sorry it took so long to respond, anon (finals week is killing me). second of all, yes, i do find your suggestions/feedback interesting. and i, in fact, originally was gonna see if i could somehow have y/n be half siren (hence why jeongin was so drawn to her), but i wasn't sure how to include in that idea lol. but yes, i love the ideas, so thank you <333333

#rosy replies #stray kids #skz #skz stay #yang jeongin #yang jeongin x reader #i.n skz #i.n x reader #jeongin #jeongin x reader #kpop #kpop fanfic

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rosylix143 · 1 month ago

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maybe this is because i've been playing the sims 4 too much (or the ovulation got strong idk), but i'm hit with the urge to write a dad felix fic now :D

#like y'all please this is just rotting my brain so much #can finals week be overrrr i need to write fics :((((((#stray kids #skz #skz stay #lee felix #felix #lee yongbok #stray kids felix #kpop

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rosylix143 · 1 month ago

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i can’t believe i freaked out over a phone commercial🫠🫠🫠🫠

mafia felix🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

#does he come with the phone????#stray kids #skz #skz stay #lee felix #felix #lee yongbok #stray kids felix #kpop

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rosylix143 · 2 months ago

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thinking about maybe making a sequel to this but idk what it could be about😭😭😭

hallucination | y. jeongin

pairing: siren!jeongin x princess!reader

genre: fantasy, some angst (with comfort), suggestive

synopsis: you're a hopeless romantic of a princess forced into a loveless marriage. but little did you know that one walk on the beach would bring you to the one thing you deeply desired.

cw: MDNI, forced marriage, feelings of loneliness (let me know if i’m missing any)

wc: 5249

———————————・❥・———————————

It has been a long, boring four days in the new palace. You were preparing yourself to get married to some prince you barely knew from some neighboring kingdom. However, despite the weird circumstances, you still wanted to get to know the prince a bit better. He was tall, handsome, and fit to be a king. He fit the perfect standard for your parents, which is why they were so excited to hear that their proposal was approved. And thus, you were standing outside of his study wearing a very simple yet elegant pink dress—perfect for a princess. Deep breaths, you thought to yourself, deep breaths.

You knocked on the door, and all you heard back was a stern “What is it?”

“Your Highness, it’s me….” you replied. Your heart raced a little, feeling a little anxious about what his response could be.

“Come in,” the prince sighed.

You opened the door and stepped into the study. Your eyes widened with the very large and tall mahogany bookshelves with gold accents, sunlight reflecting on them. The curtains were royal blue, and the prince was seated at his large desk with a quill in hand, writing on some paper. The sight of him was captivating. His brown hair was smooth and soft, his blue uniform was well-tailored, covered in a few medals and pins worthy of pride, and his gaze was incredibly focused and alluring.

“What is it?” His tone was sharp and guarded—his eyes barely off the paper. Your hands were shaking a little but you needed to muster up some confidence.

“Your Highness, I was thinking about going out for a walk,” you said, “Perhaps a walk down the beach side.”

“A walk? Why?”

“Well….it is sunny and warm outside, and the tides are calm today.”

“I am very busy right now, Princess. I don’t have time for your frivolous activities.”

“But, Your Highness—”

“If you want to take a walk, then go take a walk. I’m not stopping you.”

You were taken aback by his words. His voice sounded so detached and so dry that he didn’t see why you made the offer in the first place. Of course, you could just go take a walk by yourself, but some company wouldn’t hurt, right? Besides, all the Prince did was nothing but sit in his study all day working on whatever work he needed to do, not even spending a minute to look at the Princess who would need to reside in his palace until the end of time.

“Surely, it wouldn’t be too much for you to go for a walk,” you said, your voice a little more proper but also shaky. “I mean you have been sitting at that desk for God knows how long. A break wouldn’t be so bad.”

“A break is something I can’t afford, Princess,” the prince said sternly. “Now, I must ask you to leave. I can’t be distracted now.”

The prince waved off his hand to you dismissively, and another attempt to get closer to him has failed. Your hands were shaking a little, your stomach churned, and your heart became heavy. What’s even the point of this marriage, you thought? Well, of course, you knew what the point was, but maybe you’d hope you could get something worthwhile out of it. But alas, not every royal marriage is like the ones in those books inside your palace’s library.

“Alright then…” you solemnly nodded, “I’ll leave you be. Excuse me…”

You quickly curtsied toward him and left him to continue working tirelessly in his study. As you walked away, you hugged yourself, feeling so pathetic and weak for even bothering to try to make something out of whatever was going to be a loveless marriage anyway. The halls were so long and heavily decorated with royal blue silky curtains, large diamond chandeliers hanging from the sky-high ceilings, royal blue carpets with intricate designs akin to a Turkish rug, and large portraits of monarchs you couldn’t recognize. Despite the lovely interior, there was not a single soul near you that could fill in that emptiness in your soul. You looked out through the windows, eyeing the beach like you did this morning. The sun was three hours away from setting, and the tides looked like they were made from diamonds at a distant eye.

After a long walk out of the palace, you finally reached the beach. The beach was more beautiful up close. The sun was now meeting the horizon, creating a gorgeous road of yellow light, the skies burning orange and light pink, and the water was still shimmering like a pirate’s treasure. The winds were cool, but not freezing. It felt nice on your skin, and the smell of the sea and the calls of the seagulls made your muscles feel less tense.

You stared and stared into the distant sea, amazed at how vast it really was. What was beyond there, you wondered. What if there is more to life than just marrying some aloof prince? Your heartstrings were tugged once again, the pit of loneliness within you stirring some more. Back in your kingdom, you at least had the lovely maids you would make easy conversation with, the friendly palace guards who you could joke around with, and even your parents when they were on their good days. But now? You’re a foreign princess in a kingdom with no one to give you the time of day and expected to go through with a loveless marriage.

You clutched the seashell necklace hanging around your neck, as the tears poured down your cheeks. Your knees hit the cool sand, and the tides reach your dress, the seawater soaking the fabric. Your stomach churned even more and you began to feel dizzier, your head feeling lighter as all the sadness poured out of your eyes. The tears dropped down like rain, creating ripples in the water left in the sand before the tide returned again and again and again. Your cries were soft, but you wished that they were loud enough to hear. You wished that the Prince could hear them. Maybe then he would be more willing to spend time with you.

Suddenly, a large tide came forward and hit your face, completely soaking your hair, skin, and dress. You jumped and snapped out of your crying session for a second. The taste of the salt wasn’t very pleasant, despite the sea’s beauty. You quickly moved back from the moving tides, and in that moment, you realized just how ruined your dress was. The fabric was clinging onto you like a second skin, wet sand was crusting every crease and dip, and it would take forever to get the brown stains off the pretty pink. You stood up to quickly brush the sand off, and something caught your eye: a large blue glimmering conch shell. You looked at the conch curiously, noticing that the color was very unusual for a conch. You crouched down to the wet sand to grab the conch, and you were amazed by how iridescent the blue was. You hadn’t really seen anything like it. The closest could be the iridescent purple shell on your neck. You brought the conch close to your ear to listen to the waves more closely, but to your surprise, you heard something peculiar.

Singing?

It was a melody you never heard before, and yet, it made your chest cave in. Your heartbeat rose and fell as the notes went up and down so elegantly. It was like hearing an angel sing. It was so enchanting, but something about it felt so seductive. It was spellbindingly beautiful, and something stirred in your stomach. Your body shivered, as if the one singing was right behind you, caressing your skin with his webbed hands and sharp pearly nails—his cool breath on your neck, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. The presence hugged you from behind, pulling you close to it. A breath was coaxed out of you as your skin burned with need. Your heart was racing so much that you could feel it pounding. The singing grew more captivating and intense, and you looked at the cave close by, hearing some sort of call in some mythical language you couldn’t understand.

The conch left your hands, and you gradually walked and walked toward some cave that was close by. The singing only got louder and louder as you got closer to it, and the pull got stronger and stronger. You took more steps closer to the cave before you finally entered it. The cave was darker than the night sky, but the only source of light was the large pool of water with what looked like bioluminescent plants underneath, creating that blue glow. The light was bouncing off the cave walls, making the place look like you were underwater. You walked closer and closer to the pool of water, the singing got louder, echoing in the depths of the cave, and your eyes widened at the scene before you.

Next to the pool, there was a large rock, and on there sat a creature that could only be described in legends. His hair was as black as squid ink, his skin was smooth and shiny like porcelain, and a tail with sparkly iridescent purple and blue scales with the largest pair of fins at the end. His face was akin to an angel’s: round, smooth, eyes shaped like a fox’s, and his voice was even more enchanting up close. The creature was lying back on the large rock, flopping his tail, tracing the intricate patterns of light reflected onto the cave walls, and singing a melody.

You stepped into the water, completely entranced by the creature’s beauty. He looked straight out of some fairy tale you’ve read. The creature took a glance at you and suddenly stopped singing, breaking the trance that you were in. You fell into the water, splashing it everywhere. It was like waking up from a long dream, the adrenaline in your veins suddenly spiked up, and you frantically analyzed the area you were in, not remembering how you got in the cave. Your mind was racing, realizing that you had to go back to the kingdom. You quickly got out of the water, shivering so much from the cold. You turned away, facing the direction you came from, all ready to reach the cave’s entry again—

“Well, well. A princess has entered my domain.”

You stopped again and looked behind you. Your eyes finally met those of the creature. His brown eyes closed into little upside-down crescents as he flashed a rather cute but a little devious smile. Your heart suddenly felt a pull towards him, as if it was forbidden to look away from him.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice a little trembled than intended.

“Just someone who lives in this cave,” he replied, sliding off the rock and swimming his way towards you. Once he pops his head out of the water he analyzes you carefully, already loving the way your wet dress clings onto your skin, revealing more of your curves and body underneath the semi-translucent fabric. His eyes were even captivated by the seashell hanging from your necklace, loving the familiar shape and color. “For a princess, you look rather ruined. So what brings you here?”

“I don’t know…” you tried to recall the memory you had before entering the cave. A couple more seconds later, you suddenly remember. “There was a conch. I heard a voice inside of it—”

“A conch?” the creature laughs a little, realizing what you meant. “Oh, so it was that conch. It was my voice that led you here.”

“That was you?” you asked—more like a confirmation—and suddenly remembered just how beautiful his voice was, creating sensations you have never felt before in your life. “I thought you sirens were a myth.”

“That’s what they all say, my Dear Princess. Little do humans know that myths come from some truth too miraculous to believe.”

“How did you know I’m a princess? I haven’t even told you my name.”

“Sirens like me know a princess when they see one,” the siren stirs his index finger in the water idly. “Besides, you just have the kind of elegance and attitude of a princess. But it is true that you haven’t told me your name.”

You pondered for a second whether or not to give the creature your name, but you also couldn’t help but want to revel in this conversation a bit more. It’s not every day you get to talk to a siren. In most fairy tales, the sirens would skip the conversation and go straight to eating the souls of lost sailors or greedy pirates. Not to mention, it felt almost refreshing to have a real conversation with someone after a couple of days of near to total isolation in your betrothed’s palace.

“Y/N….that’s my name,” you finally said.

“Y/N…” the siren repeated, rolling your name off his tongue as if he was tasting it—his voice like velvet. “Very fitting for a princess.”

“And yours?”

“Jeongin.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” you curtisied, all while your mind was littered with many questions aching to come out. “What’s a siren like you doing in this cave? Aren’t sirens supposed to be in the deep seas?”

Jeongin chuckles, finding your question a little cute.

“The deep seas became quite a bore. Pirates were barely sailing on my end, sailors grew to know better, so it left me all alone in my old sea cave. So I swam here instead, maybe to mess around with some naive humans nearby.”

Your eyes widened at his answer. A siren residing close to a kingdom? Unheard of.

“But there’s a whole kingdom close to this cave,” you said, as you decided to sit down on the ground, meeting him at eye level. “Are you sure that you’re okay staying here?”

“I’m a siren, Princess. I have ways of defending myself from enemies.”

“Don’t you also get lonely? I mean….just being in this cave all by yourself sounds isolating.”

Jeongin stopped at your words, looking at you with curiosity and confusion. Why would a princess be concerned about a siren’s loneliness? Let alone, a siren she just met?

“I don’t feel lonely,” Jeongin answered, “I get bored, but I don’t feel lonely.”

“Really?”

“A siren’s sole purpose is to kill and destroy. We didn’t have much to do in the first place.”

“But having company’s nice right?”

Jeongin looked into your eyes, noticing how much wonder and curiosity lay beneath them. Normally, humans who faced him would look at him with eyes of fear, despair, or just pure malice. But you? The complete opposite. You were an interesting one, to say the least.

“Yeah….I guess so,” Jeongin nods.

The siren ponders a little, not understanding why you weren’t so scared of him at first. Many humans he has met would either try to sail away as far as they could or go straight in for the kill. Either you were stupidly naive or you were incredibly fearless, Jeongin wasn’t sure. However, the conversation was cut short when the sounds of the loudest palace bells echoed across the land. Your heart jumped at the sudden sound, but it sank, realizing you had to return to the palace.

“The Princess has to go home now, doesn’t she?” Jeongin asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded, right before remembering the awful state of your dress. Heat flushed to your cheeks in embarrassment, and you realized how disgraceful it would be to walk into the palace in such a state. “I can’t go back like this!! My dress is completely ruined.”

Jeongin chuckled, finding your little crisis amusing.

“Oh, Princess, I’m sure it’s not that big of a deal,” he assured, “Just say that you tripped and fell into the sea.”

“But everyone’s going to say that’s not Princess-like at all” you replied, blood rushing with adrenaline, your stomach churning, already feeling so humiliated. “The Prince is going to think I’m some fool.”

“Your dress is dry now. Besides, I’m sure your beauty will be distracting enough.”

Jeongin said it so casually, but you weren’t expecting that kind of compliment from him. Before you could say anything, you heard the galloping of horses, the clanks of fine equipment, and the commanding voices of the men from outside of the cave. Palace guards. You instantly got up from the ground and looked back at Jeongin who was still in the water, eyeing you intently.

“You’re leaving now?” he asked.

“Yeah…the guards are looking for me probably…” you gulped, looked away from the siren, and stepped away. But the moment you took your first step, you felt something deep within your soul. It was unexplainable. It was a funny feeling—a deep urge—that wouldn’t leave you. However, you knew that you had to press on. “You’ll still be in this cave, yes?”

“Why ask?” Jeongin wasn’t expecting such a question.

“I don’t know. Just wondering.”

“Yes, I’ll be here," Jeongin replied, feeling a little skeptical, but you smiled at his answer. He didn’t know why his heart skipped two beats. He didn’t even know why you would have wanted to know if he was still in the cave or not. But before he could ask, you left the cave, returning to the guards and thus back to the palace.

Jeongin was very sure you wouldn’t come back. What sane human being would go back to a dangerous creature? Most humans who have escaped a siren would never step foot near one ever again. And besides, you’re just a princess in some kingdom, probably already busy with whatever business royals do. However, you never failed to catch him by surprise.

You gave up on trying to get to know the cold prince, and you continued to see the siren in his dark cave every evening instead. You would just walk back into the cave, sit close to the pool, and have talks with the siren. Either about some of your stories as a human princess, and he would share his. You told him about the many balls and galas you had to attend, dancing with whatever suitors your parents threw at you, and Jeongin shared his stories about drowning pirates who dared to enter his territory.

They were pleasant conversations, sure, but Jeongin couldn’t understand why you kept pursuing them. He, himself, didn’t understand why he bothered to entertain you. After all, you were just a human. It didn’t matter if you were of royal blood or peasant blood, sirens treated them all the same. Jeongin could easily steal your soul—make you his completely with just one note. But why hasn’t he? Maybe it was your deep curiosity about sirens that was stopping him, or maybe he was the curious one.

It was another evening with just you and Jeongin in the cave. You walked into the cave wearing another simple yet elegant blue dress with a picnic basket in your hands. Jeongin’s eyebrows raised, and his stomach growled with the smell that was coming from the basket.

“What’s with the basket?” he asked.

“Just thought I’d treat you to something,” you replied. You sat down close to the pool, fanning your dress out on the ground, and you opened the picnic basket, letting the food’s aroma escape. Jeongin’s stomach growled once more. “I wasn’t sure about what sirens usually eat besides human souls, but maybe some cooked salmon would suffice?”

You brought out a small box and opened it, presenting a plate of delicious salmon. Jeongin’s eyes widened, and he never knew that salmon could look so appetizing, along with the mouth watering smell. You also brought out a bottle of wine, two small glasses, and a cloth that contained fresh fruits.

“You brought all of this for me?” Jeongin asked.

“I figured I’d have dinner with you,” you said, “Care for a bite?”

You took out a fork, picked a piece of the salmon, and offered it to him. Jeongin sniffed the little piece and he wrapped his mouth around your fork, taking the bite. His eyes widened at the taste. It wasn’t like anything he ate before. It was perfectly seasoned and cooked to perfection, unlike the raw and bland salmons he ate back in the ocean. You chuckled at how surprised he was by the taste.

“Tasty?” you asked.

“Very,” Jeongin said, “I never had salmon like this before. Didn’t know you humans were capable of making them taste good.”

You offered him more salmon to eat, along with the delicious fruits and wine. It’s been a long while since he’s had something to eat, let alone a companion to share this food with.

“So you sirens don’t eat food like this?” you asked.

“It’s either raw fish or human souls,” Jeongin answered nonchalantly.

“What do human souls taste like?”

“They taste like….I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Do they taste like nothing?”

“If they tasted like nothing, I wouldn’t get why sirens love eating them.”

You laughed at his honesty. His answer did make you wonder about it more. Maybe human souls have different flavors depending on the person, or maybe the taste is so complex that humans can’t imagine it. What do human souls look like? Are they just a large ball of light or do they take the form of the person? Jeongin looked at you more, loving the way your eyes crinkled and the melody of your laughter. It stirred something deep in him. Something about your laughter and beauty felt so familiar to him, but he couldn’t understand why. There was even something about the seashell hanging from your necklace. He remembered seeing it before, but he couldn’t recall where. Why would a human feel familiar? It was like your voice and presence was some kind of call or spell made just for him. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were a fellow siren.

“Don’t you find this strange?” he asked.

“Find what strange?

“It’s strange that a princess like you would be interested in a siren’s company. We’re all just heartless monsters, you know that right?”

“I don’t think you’re heartless,” you said.

“Really?” Jeongin’s eyebrow raised with a judging look. “Like I said before. Sirens are meant to kill and destroy. You don’t even know the amount of humans left unfound in the deep seas because of me, Princess. If anything, you should run away from me. Maybe you’re next.”

“But you wouldn’t kill me.”

“Who said so?” Jeongin scoffed. It was almost laughable just how naive you might’ve been. If he told that to any other human, they would’ve run away fast. “You don’t know if I’m planning on it.”

“Jeongin…” you said his name so sweetly, and it sent shivers down his spine. However, at the same time, it infuriated him a little. Why would you think he wasn’t heartless, he thought. He could’ve just killed you the moment you walked into his cave. He had every opportunity to just sing his song and kill you like sirens are supposed to. Why haven’t I?

“You’re naive if you think I’m not dangerous, Y/N,” he said.

“Why didn’t you hurt me then?” you challenged, “You said sirens are heartless, but you didn’t take the opportunity to kill me. Whenever I sit with you, you don’t push me away. You didn’t even try to lure me in with your singing. You took the time to listen to my stories, and moments ago, you were enjoying the food I brought. Maybe I am naive for not being afraid of you, but, Jeongin, the truth is…you made me feel less alone in this kingdom.”

Your voice was trembling slightly, letting that vulnerability slip through at your last words. Jeongin’s heart panged a little. Maybe it was the soft and solemn tone of your voice. Maybe it was the look in your eyes, as they become glazed with tears. Or maybe it was the fact that no one had ever told him such things. Less alone?

“You’re lonely. Aren’t you, Princess?” he finally asked.

His gaze was stark and alluring, just like his voice. Your heart began to race, your breath was caught in your throat, and you could feel his eyes eagerly looking at you trying to pick at your vulnerability. It was like he was looking deeply into your soul.

“Yeah, I am,” you nodded.

Jeongin’s eyes widened a little, still surprised by your answer.

“How could a princess be so lonely?” he asked.

“This isn’t even my kingdom, Jeongin. I am stuck here because my parents are marrying me off to a man who won’t love me. I wanted to spend time with him to get to know him more, but no matter what, he pushed me away. He probably sees me as some political pawn. And I just feel so out of place all the time when I’m there. I feel like an intruder. A nuisance of a princess….”

You said it with a heavy heart. Tears were beginning to pour out once you finally finished your piece. Your breath hitched as the river from your eyes dripped onto your dress, making little puddles that seeped into the fabric. Jeongin looked at you as you softly cried, his heart breaking a little at the sight. He knew that he shouldn’t feel bad for a human, but he couldn’t help it. Because if anything, there was something about you and your pain that resonated in him. Maybe that was another reason why he left his old sea cave.

“Oh, you poor princess….” Jeongin whispered.

He reached his hand out to caress your cheek, and you instantly melted into his touch. It feels the same touch you felt at the beach. Your skin was warming with want, and the gaze in his eyes was reawakening that desire within you. You pulled away a little, but you were easily pulled back in. You almost didn’t realize just how close your face was to his—your noses almost touching.

“You shouldn’t have to marry that man,” Jeongin said a little sternly.

“Jeongin…”

You swallowed a bit, realizing just how Jeongin’s siren gaze was seeping deep into your soul. And the sternness of his voice made your heart skip a beat. Suddenly, Jeongin reached for your hand. Your heart stopped for one moment, and Jeongin was just taking his time touching your arm. He even brushed his cheek against your wrist with so much care and gentleness, despite his pearl nails being so sharp, wet, and cold. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered, and the heat was rushing to your cheeks. He then began to hum a soft melody. His beautiful voice vibrated in his throat and against your skin, giving you goosebumps.

“What are you doing, Jeongin?” you asked.

Jeongin looked at you with innocent eyes before saying, “I can see your wants, Y/N, your needs…all of it.”

“What are you—”

“Don’t go back to that kingdom. Stay here with me.”

Your breath was caught in your throat, never expecting the sudden demands from him. His grip got tighter, his hums making your body feel a little weak. You yelped a little the moment he pulled you into the cold water. Your dress was immediately soaked. The fabric stuck to your skin and became a little more transparent. Your legs brushed against his cold, scaly tail. His arm was wrapped around your waist, and he held you tight, coaxing a breath out of your lungs. You arched your back slightly from the feel of his wet webbed hand. You pressed your hand against his bare muscled chest, slightly touching the small scales on his skin. Jeongin shuddered at the slight touches, and he pulled you closer. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin.

“You smell so lovely,” Jeongin says with a sultry tone, almost hypnotizing and out of breath. “like fresh seafoam and the sweetest flowers.”

“Are you okay? What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know, but I also can’t deny that something in me aches for you, Princess...Something about you calls to me. I didn’t know this could happen to sirens…”

He sniffed your neck more, your scent bringing out a carnal need from within him. The urge to sing and devour grew stronger—his sanity hanging by a thread. Jeongin didn’t want to give in, but he couldn’t deny it anymore. He wanted you. He needed you. His webbed hands traveled up and down your back, feeling the vibrations of your soul, as he brushed his lips against the sensitive skin of your neck. You melted into his touch like butter—your skin scorching, and your heart pounded against his.

“Jeongin!—” your breath was heavy, and you whined as he dug his teeth into your neck, wanting to at least get a taste of you. He groaned at the softness and plushness of your skin. He bit down a little harder to leave a red mark, and you whined again but louder. “Jeongin, please—”

“I’m sorry, Princess…I just couldn’t help myself…Gods, you have bewitched me.”

Jeongin’s voice…it was so rough and restrained like he’s trying hard to not let his inner beast out. Heat pooled down in your body, especially as you felt Jeongin’s siren tongue against the bite marks he left, making you moan and whimper.

“You really wanna know what human souls taste like?” he asked, his voice still husky and his breath labored. “They do have a taste. It’s mostly boring, but it can be sweet. And I bet…that yours is the sweetest of them all….”

Jeongin kissed your neck more, grabbing your thighs and pulling you close. He really loved the feeling of your body pressed against his. The scales on his body and tail created friction between you two. It didn’t help that he was seconds away from tearing your dress off. Your lungs forced out more labored breaths, and you couldn’t even hear anything properly because of your pounding heart. Your body was on fire, your head spun, and Jeongin was pulling you down in the water. You were like a ship willingly sinking to the siren’s will, captive to his hypnotizing tune.

“I can make you less lonely, Princess…” Jeongin said, almost out of breath. “I can show you the deep seas I came from, I can sing you the beautiful melodies that sank the largest of ships, things you couldn’t even imagine. I can make you my companion for life. I’ll be someone worthwhile to you, unlike that human prince. Would you want that, Y/N?”

His voice ached with desperation and intense desire. He lifted your chin up to look deep into his eyes. His siren eyes. His lustful gaze made your soul sing. Jeongin’s whole face was like a hallucination. He was too beautiful. Too unreal with his squid ink hair, his skin smooth like porcelain, his fox eyes, and of course, his spellbinding voice. Even when he wasn’t singing, his voice was still the most beautiful music you’ve heard. He didn’t need to actually sing for you to fall deeply for him. You were falling anyway, drunk on his touch alone. You leaned in closer to him and pressed your soft lips against his before letting out a hushed answer.

“Yes, my siren…”

———————————・❥・———————————

a/n: let me know what ya’ll thought :))) feel free to reblog if you liked it <3

masterlist | taglist

#stray kids #skz #yang jeongin #jeongin #i.n #i.n skz #i.n stray kids #stray kids jeongin #yang jeongin x reader #jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #kpop #kpop fanfic

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rosylix143 · 2 months ago

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thinking about prince!felix trying to court you but you’re a princess who’s not easily swayed, so he tries to prove himself to you🫠

#stray kids #skz #skz stay #felix #lee felix #lee yongbok #stray kids felix #kpop #kpop fanfic

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rosylix143 · 2 months ago

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ZOO WEE MAMA🥵🥵🥵🥵

His Spoiled Doll

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

Pairing: Idol!Jeongin x fem!reader

Summary: The fashionable boy needs a doll to dress — and who better than his girlfriend, the one he already loves to spoil rotten?

Warnings: Backshots in a Bottega Veneta skirt. Jeongin loves having you as his. And idk, idk — just don’t read if you’re a minor.

A/N: I’m always so nervous writing for someone who isn’t in my bias line, because yes, I know them well — but someone who has him as their bias knows them better, so I’m always scared of mischaracterizing him…

I hope you Jeongin stans enjoy it! Remember, it’s just fiction hehe… or not.

୨ৎ Felix ୨ৎ Hyunjin ୨ৎ Bangchan ୨ৎ Seungmin ୨ৎ Han ୨ৎ Leeknow ୨ৎ Changbin

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

At first, it started with a jacket.

A simple thing—luxurious black leather, butter-soft, the kind of piece you could wear for a lifetime.

He held it up to her in the store, sharp-eyed, calculating.

“This one,” he said simply, draping it over her shoulders like he was crowning her.

When she tried to protest—it’s too expensive, I don’t need it—he just kissed her forehead and handed over his card without blinking.

After that, it never stopped.

Little by little, Jeongin rebuilt her entire wardrobe like he was rebuilding her.

Custom-tailored dresses that skimmed her body just right.

Cashmere sweaters so soft she blushed when they slipped against her skin.

Shoes flown in from Milan, still warm from the hands that crafted them.

He never asked her opinion.

He didn’t need to.

He knew exactly what would make her look irresistible.

Exactly how to dress her—

To own her.

It wasn’t about fashion.

It was about possession.

He wanted the world to see her and know—

That every inch of her, from her earrings to her heels, was his.

────୨ৎ────

When they walked backstage of the Award Show one day, her hand tucked neatly in his, the other members’ heads snapped toward them.

She wore a simple black mini dress, barely-there straps, the fabric gliding over her like it had been painted on.

Jeongin had picked it himself.

Paired it with thin silver jewelry, a tiny designer bag, and heels that made her legs go on forever.

The boys stared.

Not even subtly.

“Bro,” Seungmin muttered under his breath.

But Jeongin didn’t get jealous.

No—he thrived on it.

He wanted them to look.

He wanted them to ache for what they could never touch.

Because she didn’t just wear the clothes.

She wore him.

Obediently.

Perfectly.

Without even realizing it.

Every time she adjusted the hem like a good girl, shyly pulling it down over her thighs—

Every time she bit her lip, self-conscious because the neckline dipped a little too low—

He watched her.

Eyes darkening.

Heat curling under his skin, slow and lethal.

────୨ৎ────

Later, when they were alone, he pushed her up against the closet door.

Pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he whispered.

“You’re mine. Dressed by me. Made for me.”

His hands slipped under the hem of the dress he bought her, fingers teasing the sensitive skin of her thighs.

“You look so good it hurts,” he growled.

“You wear my choices, you are mine.”

And when she whimpered, clutching at him—

When she tilted her chin up, silently begging for his mouth, his hands, anything he’d give—

He laughed, soft and dangerous.

“Good girl,” he said, voice low.

“My perfect, spoiled little thing.”

────୨ৎ────

A necklace clasped around her throat—Bottega Veneta, delicate, understated, real gold.

Sneakers that appeared by the door just when her old ones started to wear out—Balenciaga, crisp white, her size memorized.

Jeongin didn’t spoil her loudly.

He did it the way he did everything—with thought, with precision, with a certain boyish pride he tried to hide behind nonchalance.

Perfectly tailored coats in muted creams and charcoals, arriving on rainy afternoons like he had ordered the weather too.

Silk shirts slipped onto her body, the buttons fastened by his own hands, because, “You deserve to feel expensive every day, baby.”

And then he’d kiss her temple and say, “Perfect. Now everyone’s gonna know you’re mine.”

────୨ৎ────

The soft hiss of the Zipper sliding down her spine, teeth parting like a sigh, while Jeongin’s fingers chased it lower, knuckles grazing bare skin.

She stood in front of the mirror, wearing nothing but the pale slip dress he’d picked out for her that morning.

Now it pooled at her feet.

And he stood behind her, still fully dressed—white shirt open at the collar, Bottega watch glinting on his wrist, eyes so dark they made her knees weak.

“Come here,” he murmured, voice thick with something that made her shiver.

She turned.

His hands found her hips first—steady, reverent—thumbs stroking slow, lazy circles into the bone.

Then up, tracing her waist, her ribs, the delicate slope of her back.

Touching like he was redrawing her by memory.

When his mouth found her neck, she gasped—a soft, broken sound—fingers clutching at the front of his shirt like she needed something to anchor her.

“You know,” he whispered against her skin, breath hot, “every time I buy you something… it’s because I imagine unwrapping you out of it later.”

Her heart stuttered.

So did her knees.

He caught her easily, chuckling low under his breath, scooping her up effortlessly and carrying her to the bed without ever losing his mouth on her throat.

She landed among the sheets with a soft gasp, hair fanning out like a halo.

Jeongin stood over her, undoing the buttons of his shirt slowly, deliberately, letting her watch.

Letting her see the way his muscles flexed under the soft fabric, the way the veins on his arms stood out as he shrugged it off and dropped it to the floor.

When he crawled over her, his knee pressing between her thighs, she whimpered.

“Tell me,” he said, voice rough as velvet, “what do you want tonight, baby?”

She couldn’t find words.

She just grabbed his wrist, pulling his hand to her breast, arching into his palm.

“That,” she breathed. “You. All of you.”

Jeongin smiled—lazy, dangerous—and kissed her.

Kissed her until she forgot how to breathe, until the only thing she knew was the heat of his mouth, the slide of his hands, the grinding of his hips into hers.

And when he finally moved lower—kissing down her ribs, her stomach, the inside of her thighs—he didn’t rush.

Jeongin loved slow.

He teased the inside of her knee with his mouth, tracing lazy paths higher and higher, watching her fall apart bit by bit.

By the time his tongue flicked against her clit, she was already gasping, already writhing, already begging.

And he groaned—deep, guttural—like he could live on her pleasure alone.

Jeongin ate her out like a man starving.

No finesse. No performance.

Just pure hunger, pure need, pure devotion.

His tongue was slow at first—languid strokes that had her thighs shaking—then faster, harder, as he pinned her hips down and feasted.

Not just with his mouth, but with low, filthy moans that vibrated through her entire body.

Her hands clawed at the sheets, at his hair, at anything she could reach—

And when she came, sobbing his name, Jeongin didn’t stop.

He just licked deeper, slower, gentler, pulling every last tremor out of her like a man determined to drink every drop of her.

When he finally slid up her body, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he looked down at her with a lazy, smug grin.

“You good, baby?” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her sweaty forehead.

She could barely nod.

But she managed to pull him down for a kiss, tasting herself on his lips, feeling the way he shuddered when she wrapped her arms and legs around him and refused to let go.

“You spoil me,” she whispered, still dazed.

He laughed softly against her mouth.

“You spoil me right back,” he said.

“Every time you look at me like that. Every time you smile at me like I’m your whole world.”

She kissed him again.

Slower this time.

Softer.

Because he was.

He was hers.

And she was his.

And sometimes, love looked like Bottega heels and silk sheets.

But more often, it looked like the way he held her after—bare, worshiped, safe—and the way she fell asleep every night knowing she would wake up even more loved than before.

────୨ৎ────

The Skirt was halfway off.

Bunched at her waist, the silky fabric clinging to her curves, wrinkled where he had dragged it up with shaking hands.

“Fuck—” Jeongin groaned, voice rough, desperate.

The bra straps hung off her shoulders, useless.

Her necklace—delicate, glittering, his pick—swung wildly with every movement.

Even the lace panties he had bought her, the ones with his initials stitched into the waistband, were pushed aside, leaving her open for him.

Spoiled.

Claimed.

His.

He pressed her face into the mattress, hand firm between her shoulder blades, holding her steady as he drove into her from behind.

“Look at you,” he rasped, thrusts hitting deep, filthy sounds filling the room.

“Dressed by me. Fucking ruined by me.”

She whined under him, hips arching, begging for more without words.

Her body knew him too well now—

belonged to him in ways no amount of luxury could ever explain.

Every snap of his hips made the bed creak, the frame protesting, but he didn’t slow down.

He needed her like this—

Breathless, trembling, covered in the life he built around her like armor.

“Who’s pretty girl are you, baby?” he panted, thrusting harder.

She gasped, trying to answer, but the only thing that came out was a broken moan.

He smirked, leaning down to kiss the back of her neck, sweat-slicked skin tasting like heaven.

“That’s right,” he whispered.

“You’re mine. All of you. All this—”

His hand slid down her spine, over the dress, the jewelry, the faint marks he’d left earlier along her thighs.

“—everything you wear, everything you are. Mine.”

She shattered on him then, body clenching, sobbing his name into the sheets.

And Jeongin followed her, groaning low in his chest, emptying himself deep inside her like he was branding her from the inside out.

────୨ৎ────

Later, when they lay tangled together, the city lights painting the room in soft gold, she pressed her face to his chest.

Still wearing the necklace he’d given her.

Still breathing in sync with him like they shared the same lungs.

Jeongin stared down at her, hand smoothing her hair back, heart too full for words.

She could have demanded anything from him—

Cars, houses, a life of endless luxury.

And he would have given it to her without blinking.

But she never asked for any of it.

She never wanted the clothes or the jewelry or the life.

She wanted him.

Just him.

And that was enough to make the world stop spinning under his hands.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────୨ৎ───

@zenfries @inniesfanblog

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