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2025-10-02
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2025-10-09
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2/?
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Kinktober 2025

Summary:

1. Minho/Jisung - Edging
2. Chris/Felix - Fuck or Die

Chapter 1: Minho/Jisung - Edging

Notes:

For the prompt Minho/Jisung first meeting off FetLife, featuring edging.

Chapter Text

"Do you want me to wear gloves?" Minho says, pulling a box out of his backpack. Black, the label says. Just like the jeans he's wearing, the t-shirt he's got on. The boots he took off. Jisung almost said he should keep them. He looked like he stepped out of Jisung's screen and onto his doorstep. Dark, intimidating, powerful. Like the pictures on his profile. But real, somehow. Jisung wasn't sure he would be. Too good to be true. Or maybe he was but he'd want Jisung to pay him. Jisung might have, honestly. Look at him.

Minho went barefoot instead, which was worse for Jisung's dick. Kneeling up on Jisung's bed, between his legs, feet tucked under him. He's still got the rest of his clothes on. Had Jisung take his off. Jisung's hard against his hip even though Minho hasn't touched him yet. He can't help it. He hasn't come in three days.

"Why?" he says. "For safety?" Minho was good about that. Made them exchange numbers, had Jisung text a friend. One of the most embarrassing things he's ever done, sending Felix Minho's information. Now he'll want to know everything about him.

"No," Minho says. "Well it could be. But some people just like them."

Jisung looks at the box. He's never thought about it. Maybe he's been watching the wrong porn.

Minho takes one out, slips his fingers in. "They like how they look," he says, pulling the latex tight. Stretching it over the heel of his palm, snapping it around his wrist. Jisung flinches. Minho grins. "Or feel." He rests his hand on Jisung's thigh. Touches him for the first time. Slides it up, up, inching towards Jisung's erection. The latex is smooth against his skin, cool, foreign. How would it feel around him. Just a little further and he'd find out. "They're good for medical stuff."

Jisung lifts his eyes. "Huh?"

"Playing doctor," Minho says, and Jisung pictures him, calm and clinical. Inspecting his patient. Jisung doesn't know how he's going to get through this. He's going to come as soon as Minho touches him. With anything. "What do you think?"

He looks back down to Minho's hand. It's so dark against his skin. He does kind of like that. Might like the way it feels, too. He doesn't know. He's lightheaded. Might lose the ability to pick soon. "What do you?"

Minho's fingers slide over his hip, to his side. Trace the last few letters of his tattoo. E-F-I. The artist had worn gloves like that. If it had been Minho for those eight hours, handling and marking him, Jisung would have been in trouble. "Maybe next time," Minho says, bringing his hand back, sliding the glove off his wrist.

Jisung's cock gives a twitch. Next time. He's not sure he's going to survive this one.

Minho pulls something else from his bag. "You will want this," he says. Lube, brand new. He's glad Minho brought his own. Glad he didn't grab the one from his drawer. He'd have to have Minho put the gloves back on. "We might be here a while."

It's good Jisung is lying down because he were standing he'd be swaying, losing his balance. "I don't know about that," he says, and he's not sure how loud it is. There's only ringing in his head. "It might be over fast."

"Yeah?" Minho pours some lube in his hand. "Sensitive?"

"Yeah." He always has been. One of the reasons he's had trouble with this. He wants to, he does. Draw it out, make himself wait. But he starts touching and before he knows it he's coming. "And it's been a few days."

Minho's hand wraps around him and Jisung's hips push into it. His other palm pushes them down. "Hold still," he says. His hand is still too, just loose around the base of Jisung's cock. "A few days since what?"

"Since-" Jisung curls his fingers in the bedspread. "Since we said."

Since Minho messaged him and Jisung thought it must be some kind of trick. That he was being catfished. Since Minho asked what interested him and Jisung rushed out bondage spanking humiliation praise edging choking, closed his eyes and hit send. Since Minho said that's a lot for a first time and do you want me to pick? Jisung didn't ask if he should hold off until today, he just did it anyway, wanted to wait for Minho. Wanted his next orgasm to come from him.

"So you haven't been touching," Minho asks, "thinking about this?" His hand slides up, and Jisung sucks in a breath. He doesn't even touch the head. Stops right below it.

Jisung shakes his head. He's so close already. This is going to be over so quick. "No."

"Do you do that a lot?" Minho's hand slides back down. "Hold off?"

"No, I'm not-" He loses even that train of thought as Minho's hand goes up again. Holds for just a second, falls back. Jisung swallows. Minho does it again, that same rhythm. Okay. Maybe he won't embarrass himself. "I'm not very good at it."

"Making yourself wait?"

Each slide of his hand is the slowest second. Tick. Tick. "Yeah."

"Not very good at this either, are you?"

Embarrassment curls inside him, numbs his tongue. Thank god they're down to yes or no questions. "No." He's so bad. He wants to do it, he does. Sit in the heat of it, let it build in his belly, his cock. Stroke himself right to the edge and stop. Whine as the denial roils through him. Wait to touch again.

He wants it. But he can't make himself. He likes to come so much. He needs someone who won't let him.

"Can't control yourself." The humiliation burns in his belly, spreads all through him. He can't. "That's why you need me to."

His hand glides all the way up, past the head this time, and Jisung lets out an airy whine. "Ohgod," he says, trying so hard not to buck into him.

"You are sensitive," Minho says, speeding up the slightest bit. "Don't worry. If you come too fast I'll make you go again."

Jisung feels it then, drawing up inside him. "Please," he says. "Please." Minho's strokes get shorter, just up around his head, and there, like that-

Jisung has edged before. He hought he had. Peak and back off, right? Peak and back off. Makes the orgasm better. It has, when he's managed. But it wasn't like this. Like some kind of hollow place opening inside him. He looks at his cock, throbbing, flushed and wet, and it doesn't feel like it belongs to him. And they're only just starting.

"That was good," Minho says. "Again?"

Jisung nods. Looks up at him and back down at his cock, Minho's hand circling him. It's small. His knuckles are bruised, cut. Minho never said what he does for work. Whatever it is, there's no question he can handle himself. Handle Jisung.

His next three pumps are quick, rushing Jisung to the edge, so fast he forgets he won't be going over it. He reaches out when Minho stops, tries to finish himself off, but Minho catches him, holds him away from the ache of his cock.

"Careful," Minho says. "Don't make me have to tie you up."

The spasm in his belly is so strong it hurts. He has to look away, shut his eyes. Think of Minho tying his hands over his head, behind his back. Doing whatever he wants and Jisung can't stop him.

"You like that idea," Minho says. He knows that. It was on Jisung's list. It shouldn't feel like he's just discovering it. Shouldn't be this humiliating.

Minho's hand lies flat on his abs, thumb and forefinger framing his cock. "If you're good," he says. "I'll do that next time."

Jisung's knees draw up. He can't help himself. Next time. Minho coming with cuffs, with rope. What would he use. Jisung doesn't care as long as he gets something to pull against and know he's not going anywhere.

Minho's fingers start to settle around the base. "Wait!" Jisung's toes curl. He's too close. He doesn't want to ruin this for himself. Just a brush of Minho's hand and falling unpleasantly over the edge.

Minho's hand goes flat again. "Good boy." Jisung doesn't know if he'll ever be able to handle Minho touching him.

"Sorry," Jisung says, because this isn't the way this is supposed to go, is it? This can't have been what Minho wanted when he messaged him.

"It's okay," Minho says. Just his thumb grazes the base of Jisung's cock again. Jisung whines. "I could do this all night."

Jisung has to cover his face. He can't just say that. He can't believe Minho's even looking at him. Ever looked. That he found Jisung's embarrassment of a profile and messaged him. When Minho looks like, like, god. Like a wet dream. Someone he conjured up to do this to him.

Minho's fingers catch around him. Jisung watches them dragging up, under the head. His whole hand circling, staying. The tip so red. He'll come if Minho touches it. Puts his mouth on it. His soft lips and his crooked teeth. Maybe if he begs. Minho said he liked that.

The pad of Minho's thumb rests at the underside of his head. Rubs along the frenulum. Jisung feels like he's walking along the water line, gentle waves inside every time. "Minho," he sighs.

"You like that," Minho says, as lazy as his thumb moving over him.

"Yeah," Jisung breathes. He feels hypnotized, catatonic. Floaty. Close, suddenly. "Oh-"

Minho stops. Jisung's heart pounds through his body, his head. The emptiness is nice. What if he stayed like this all night.

"You're doing so well," Minho says, touching his thumb down again. "I'll get you there, don't worry." He draws spirals under the tip, wet from Jisung leaking on it. "When I'm ready."

Chapter 2: Chris/Felix - Fuck or Die

Notes:

💗

Additional content warning: Extremely dubious consent.

Chapter Text

"What's this one?" Chris says, opening the next mess of tissue and bubble wrap. It's like unpacking the most delicate box of Christmas ornaments, if they were all made of lead. He'd almost dropped it when he first picked it up; he hadn't expected the one marked fragile to feel like a box of rocks.

"Crystals," Felix had corrected, helping to steady it while Chris adjusted his grip. "Not rocks."

The big grey one with the deep purple inside kind of looks like both, but the next he unwraps doesn't: it's almost colorless and shaped like an obelisk in a way that doesn't seem natural. Maybe it is. Maybe crystals can do that.

"Clear quartz," Felix says, placing it on the shelf. Right near the jar of affirmations. He'd had Chris take one and read it aloud: I trust myself to make the right decisions. Rarely. "It's for clarity and amplification."

"So I should bring some to my shows?" Chris jokes, just to get that look of faux annoyance.

"Of thought," Felix says. "And intention." He plucks the next rock from Chris's hand. It's a ruddy red until he holds it up to the light. "Garnet," he says, angling it so it shines. "For energy and passion. And removing inhibitions."

That seems right. It's the color of lipstick and temptation and private rooms. "Tequila works too."

He knew Felix was into this stuff, kind of, but he never knew how much. It's been years since they used to hole up in Felix's room to play video games. When Chris and Changbin got a place, Felix came to them instead. And when Changbin vacated to go build his love nest it only made sense for Felix to move in. So here he is, unpacking parts of himself that Chris has never seen, in the home they're going to share. Felix's kitchenware in the cupboards, his toiletries by the sink, and now his shelf of spiritual manifesting. Whatever that means.

The next one's another jar, this one not filled with paper or petals but a whitish power that shimmers blue. "Fairy dust?" Chris guesses. "Makes wishes come true?"

"Close," Felix tells him. "It's a love potion."

Chris laughs. Felix doesn't. "Really?"

Felix shrugs, looking down at the bottle in his hands. Tracing the label with his thumb. "That's what she said."

There's no reason for Chris's heart to beat harder at that. He doesn't believe in this. There's no such thing as a love potion. Not one Felix could buy in a shop off the high street from a woman wearing too many rings. "Does it work?" he hears himself saying. Not that he would use it if it did. He doesn't want to magic Felix into loving him.

But Felix does. Someone. Why else would he buy it?

Jealousy digs a pit in Chris's stomach, crawls its way in.

"Let's see," Felix says.

Chris ought to stop him from opening the jar, dipping his finger in. Rubbing it over his lip like so much glitter and licking it clean again.

He should. He doesn't. He watches instead, his chest moving like it's on a ventilator. Expanding, contracting, precise little breaths forced in and out of him.

"It's sweet," Felix says, sucking the rest off the tip of his finger. Chris could have done that. "I think it's mostly sugar."

"Helps the love potion go down," Chris says mechanically.

Felix grins, practically perfect. "In the most delightful way." He replaces the lid and sets the jar on the shelf, right next to the garnet. "Well?" he says. "Do you feel any different?"

Chris shakes his head. But he wouldn't, would he. He's always been in love with Felix. He doesn't know how it feels not to be.

What if he said yes. What if he let Felix believe he caused this. Then it wouldn't be Chris's fault, would it. "Do you?"

Felix licks his lips. There's still a sheen to them. They probably taste good. "Not yet," he says. "Maybe it needs a minute."

Chris is quiet as he pulls another bundle from the box, and this one does look like a rock. It's stripey and green, the prettiest thing you'd pull from a creek. But still a rock.

"Malachite," Felix says as he takes it. He turns it over in his hand; it's smooth, slides easily. Like a worry stone. "Absorbs negative energy."

Oh. It is a worry stone.

"You have a lot of that?" The rock looks big in Felix's small hand.

"Sometimes." Felix swallows. He keeps turning it, over and over. Doesn't elaborate. Doesn't say anything at all.

"Felix?" Chris says, after a minute has passed.

Felix blinks. "Sorry," he says. "I feel kind of dizzy."

Chris frowns. They have been at this all day, no breaks. "Sit down," he says. "I'll get you some water. And we should have dinner."

He stands to switch places, but Felix snatches at his shirt. The malachite drops to the ground. "No," he says. "Don't go." His eyes are trained on Chris's chest. When he lifts them, they're dark black.

"Felix," Chris says, holding him with both hands. "What's wrong?"

"I don't-" Felix's eyes swim around like they're looking for something to focus on. When they stop, roll back, there's only a second before he goes limp.

Chris might be holding him too hard. He can't tell. There's no feeling beneath his shoulders. All he knows is he keeps Felix upright, turns him around, rests him on the bed. "I'm calling an ambulance."

But Felix grabs him before he can leave. "No," he repeats, hand in Chris's shirt. "Just."

He's breathing normally at least, even if he can't get words out. That must be a good thing. No allergies. "Just what?"

Chris's collar digs into his neck as Felix pulls at it. "Come here," he says. "With me."

Chris shouldn't let himself be drawn in. He shouldn't be planting one knee on either side of Felix's body, leaning over him. Something's wrong. He needs to get help. Needs to get off of him.

"Lix," he says, brushing his hair from his forehead. Felix mewls and pushes into his hand, like a kitten whose eyes haven't opened yet. "Fuck, you're burning up."

Felix doesn't seem to hear him. "Feels nice," he says, pushing harder, plaintive note to his voice. "Chris."

"Felix." He's so warm. His skin, his body. Sweat beading on his forehead. This is wrong, this is-

Felix licks his lips, and Chris freezes. No. That can't be it. It's a stupid grift. Fucking. Pixy Stix in a pretty bottle, preying on believers and flush tourists. That's all it is. There's no such thing as a love potion.

Felix looks at him, flushed and glittering, and Chris cups his hand behind his head. "Felix."

"Chris." His voice is as watery as his eyes. "Please."

This isn't possible. Can't be right. Chris leans in anyway, just in case. If this is the thing that Felix needs. "Okay."

There's a crack in the center of the sound Felix lets out. Chris wants to swallow it down, seal it up. His mouth is on Felix. Kissing him. He does it once, slow, the way he's always wanted. On a night with just the two of them, and Felix as bright as the stars in the sky, and Chris would know it was time. He gets one soft, gentle press, and that's all the patience Felix has in him. His hands cup around the back of Chris's neck and pull him in, kissing so hard Chris thinks he splits his lip.

I'm sorry is all Chris can think before he bears down, gives in. Lets Felix's heat surround him.

Felix's legs catch around his back, his hips jerking while his nails bite into Chris's neck. "Please," Felix says, begs, pulling at him and pushing up. "Please."

Chris would give him whatever he wants. Always. Felix doesn't really want him, he knows that. Might hate him for this later. Probably should. But right now he's asking for it, and all Chris knows how to say is yes. "Yeah baby," he says, because Felix won't remember this. Overheated, fever-sick. "What do you need?"

"Please," Felix says, a sob that breaks Chris's heart. "Chris."

The sugar on his lips is turning to salt. Chris reaches behind him, takes Felix's hands in his. Pushes them down, over his head, onto the bed. Onto the comforter he helped Felix pull into position, over the sheets that were a gift from his mother. "Felix," he says. "Pay attention, just for a second. Okay?"

A needy sound bleats out of Felix's mouth. But he's meeting his gaze, so Chris takes it as agreement. "Can you tell me what you need?"

Felix takes a breath. Licks his lips. "I think," he says, strangely lucid. Still squirming. "I think I need you inside me. I can feel it, it-" His throat goes suction-tight. "It hurts."

It's not consent. It's nothing like it. No matter what kind of sick thrill spreads through him. Felix is asking under duress. But Chris can let the guilt drown him later. Right now, he has to give him this.

"Okay," he says. Steels himself, for tonight and everything after. "Okay."

He gives Felix one more kiss, then releases his wrists. Felix latches back, like he can have him through osmosis.

"Baby," Chris says. "Let me get your clothes off."

When he's imagined this - and he has, too often for someone who claims to be Felix's friend - it's been languid, reverent. Chris kissing Felix's skin as he uncovers it. A slow, tight fit. Felix's breathing ragged as he struggles to take him, but sighing as he slides home, like something's finally right. Like it's the only thing he wants to feel for the rest of his life.

In reality, he strips them quick, fights Felix's desperate hands to fumble up a bottle of lotion. There are tears spilling down Felix's cheeks as he preps him. Chris is hard anyway. Of course he is. Ready to go while the person he supposedly loves is suffering. He's disgusting. It doesn't matter why he's doing this, Felix should never speak to him again.

The sigh that Felix lets out as he works himself in is so close to the fantasy he could almost pretend it's happening. Felix clinging to him, wanting him, loving him. No potion at the heart of it.

He stops as he bottoms out. Lets himself take Felix's face in both hands, trace the tear tracks down his temples. He can have this, just for a minute. A taste of what he's always wanted. "How's that?" he says. "Feel better?"

Felix nods, all the urgency drained from his face. Nothing left but purring contentment. "Thank you."

Chris smiles. "Of course, baby." For Felix he'd do anything. "Anytime."

He might have to really mean that. He doesn't know how this works, if this once will be enough. What if it's not. What if Felix keeps needing him, who knows how often, for the rest of their lives.

He shouldn't feel the idea tingling at the top of his spine.

Felix mirrors Chris's grip, gets his face in his hands. Slides them back into his hair, pets at it. His cock is nudging Chris's belly while Chris's throbs inside him. Maybe this is all he needs. Maybe they can stay right here, wrapped in each other, until the pain goes away. Maybe they could do it every night forever.

Felix is looking at him like he agrees with every thought in Chris's head. "I knew it would work," he says.

"Hm?" Felix's nails are scratching at his scalp. It feels good. "What would?"

"The potion," Felix says, like it's obvious.

Chris goes still. "What do you mean." Now he's the one getting dizzy. Felix can't be saying what he thinks he is. "You took it on purpose?"

"Yes." Felix arches his back like a contented cat, tightens up around him. "And now I have you."

Chris's heart starts pumping backwards. His blood is going the wrong direction. His fingers are numb. "You already did."

"Maybe." Felix's thumb traces along the shell of his ear, just the way Chris has let himself touch him. "I made sure of it." He grimaces, lifts his hips. "I think you need to move," he says. "It's starting to hurt again."