Sub!chan - Tumblr Posts

saw u reblog a pervy changbin post 😩 spare some pervy skz thoughts maybe 🤲

— skz and perverted thoughts.

sub ! skz ot8 , dom ! gn ! reader 

🏷️ perversion. somnophilia. voyeurism. blasphemy. invasion of privacy. individual scenarios of 8 pining perverts. sorry anon for the late response!

— you’re the reason why bang chan never sleeps.

he knows that neither of you are together…yet. you usually sleep over at his place though, a one-bedroom apartment with an uncomfortable couch, so you’re forced to sleep next to him. chan never tells you this but he gets hard every night you sleep over. he refuses to admit—no, he will never admit that he gets hard to the idea of you sleeping soundly next to him, in nothing but your sleepwear. 

chan constantly thinks about waking you up from your sleep after you’ve taken your clothes off. chan knows that you sleep without underwear — he watched you slip into your pants without putting anything under — and he wants your bare skin on his. he hasn’t seen your eyes fluttered shut in slumber since you two face away, but he thinks about how you could dominate him with the mere awakening of your irises. he wants to shock you so that you can shock him back. chan wants to feel your heavy breath on his heavier exhales instead of the gentle sighs he so desperately wants to wake. he wants to grind on your legs, dig his face in your neck, and whine as you take care of him while half-awake. 

but no, he can’t have that, he can never have that, so he fantasizes. stroking his cock, once, twice, thrice, four times, while you count your sheep to slumber at the same pace.

— minho feasts on whatever eye candy you are.

he can only keep to himself for so long, staring from the chair opposite yours. he’s too dignified; minho hasn’t made his feelings clear with himself, let alone you, so he can’t do much. all he can do is look from a distance. stare. drill his eyes into every single inch of your smooth skin until his pupils dilate. fuck, you’re just his type. oh god, you’re so close yet so far. 

and he wants you to be close. close the physical distance. close in on the friendship and become something more. close, moan “minho, i’m so close.” he wants to have you cum on him, finally let yourself go after ruining him to the point he’s writhing and crying under you. after staring at your hands intertwined with your best friend’s, he realized so badly that he wants your hands on his neck, knocking the wind out of his system. choke him until he wiggles and begs wordlessly for breath—or for more? he can’t tell. he’d be willing to give up the act of being so stuck-up around you and offer a rare sight that only you can see. but no.

the only sight you see of him is a good friend zoning out. minho looks so distant but he’s there, fantasizing, daydreaming about your body, how fucking good you would sound while praising him. you’re so distant, yet you’re right there, like a mere feast for his eyes, but he wants you to eat him alive, feast on him the same way.

— it’s only you who can distract changbin.

your voice echoes through his head. changbin can’t focus on anything else and his vision tunnels. you’re the light at the end of it.

you told him off numerous times to do his job right. it had been a bad day and he tried to sympathize with you — but getting turned on from being scolded doesn’t count. he can’t help the thought of being told to shut up before being called all sorts of names. he daydreamed about getting pounded on the desk, the chair—maybe the floor, where you can ride and degrade him? he wants your fitted suits discarded alongside his. changbin just wants you to lose it on him, use him to let every drop of anger out, slap him, mark him, spit on him, use him. show your true colors instead of acting polite. break in front of him the way he breaks beneath you.

suddenly, you tapped his shoulder, then his screen, sternly reminding him to “get the fuck back to work, darling.” he’d shift his legs to hide his painful and leaking erection.

the cycle continued. you’d scold him, he’d get too horny to function, making you scold him again until it was only the both of you in left the office working overtime. it’s so wrong, getting off on your emotions that you almost can’t control. but damn it, your voice is too pretty, he wants to hear it scream, tell him off, again and again.

— you made hyunjin question everything.

the search bar has “friend walked in on me masturbating.” hyunjin can’t believe he typed that. it’s so unlike him to search for things that weren’t substantial, but maybe self-discovery is just as important. you aren’t watching anymore. but the question just…doesn’t quite cut it. 

he types again. “friend walked in on me masturbating but i liked it.” the results are dubious, some suggesting that it’s normal. some are porn videos — he watched as a lean, tall man got pinned down by another person, getting punished by someone peeping on him. he’s deleting the words key per key, tapping backspace until he’s on the last few letters. “i think i like my friend.” no, he already knew that long ago. “i want to fuck my friend.” no, he’d been fantasizing about that for years. you’re the reason why he masturbated in the first place, thinking of how you could ruin him, fuck his mouth with your crotch, drain him of his cum, fucking his own release back into himself. holy shit, hyunjin, that’s so bad, so bad…

“i want my friend to fuck me.” bingo. but not quite — he just can’t remove the image of your shocked, flustered face, the way you went all red, the way you hesitated and panicked. did you like what you saw? because his dick does.

hyunjin types again. “voyeurism kink guide.”

— jisung shouldn’t get too excited over you.

shock was written all over his face when he found out you liked him back, that you rejected your other best friend all because of him. imagine him riding the highs of the validation, basking in the image of you two being a couple. he loved that you saw nobody else but him.

imagine him riding his pillow to chase his high of release, basking in the image of that plush material being your lower half instead. he loved that you fucked nobody else but him.

maybe he got too pumped over the wrong things. shutting the door behind him and refusing to eavesdrop any longer, he shoved his pants down, frantically freeing his hard cock, and thought of you. you, possessive, in love with him as he was with you. jisung wanted you to own him, make him yours. he wanted to be shoved in between your arms and held up on the wall first before plummeting to the bed, whining and crying nothing but your name. he wants to forget his own. he wants the hands of his longtime crush to crush him and leave his ass bruised and his back arched.

he’s filthy. jisung stared at his hands, coated in cum that won’t stop flowing, wondering if you’re cool dating someone whose first thought about you was sex. sex with feelings, he swears, but he huffs and keeps going, overstimulating himself.

— it was you and a train ride felix couldn’t stand.

he was trying to read the tale of orpheus and eurydice, standing in the moving train, but he ripped his eyes off his book the minute you stood in front of him. stunning, amazing. curse god for making the train cramped today, his erection kept brushing against your legs.

felix felt fire surge between his legs as he took a whiff of your scent, an alluring aroma making its way down his system. you looked like a dream, like a doll that god herself sculpted out of love. he wanted to get a taste of you. he wondered if this is what couples in public transport felt like, dragging their hands down each other, feeling the other up through and under the layers of clothing. how much could he leak when one of your fingers traces down his v-line? felix wondered about the thrill of getting caught, the thought of whimpering just a little too loud for other people to hear, to shift his legs in the wrong way, hitting the wrong person, alerting everyone of your lewd antics. but why, why did he want you to do this to him?

you stood tall until you didn’t, losing balance on him. you thanked felix for catching you, but you didn’t turn his direction for long. like orpheus, he followed you, his eurydice: he can’t let you face him after everything he imagined. he tried not to drool and stared at the back of your head, hoping to only see your face after the train ride.

— seungmin’s the sinner you shouldn’t forgive.

was it his fault if you locked eyes with him first? he looked at the altar and scanned the image of the deity before him, questioning his morals, a feeling he hadn’t felt ever since he kept a penny to himself in first grade. 

he heard you chant in the pew beside him. “i offer my body to you.” he heard you say it, over and over, parts of your body folding into prayer position. you were hypnotizing to witness. seungmin couldn’t help but eye down your irresistible features, watched the glow from the lights hit your face and body in just the right way. he wanted to touch you, a living statue, and he wanted to put a show in front of the altar. he wanted you to ruin him, his upper half hunched over the head of the kneeler. or maybe he wanted to kneel in front of you as he took you in his mouth, tasting every bit of you, licking every drop of your essence as if it were holy water.

you were a fallen angel. sent from the clouds down to the earth to test his temptation, and he was giving in. but you weren’t a messenger, you betrayed your god, and you indulged in his sin, never forgiving him, damning him to the flames of lust for an eternity. he’s gross, but you’re an angel, and he’s chanting his prayer:

“corrupt me, corrupt me, corrupt me, i surrender myself, my body and life, all to you…”

— you should put jeongin where he belongs.

he’s insecure. for the first time in the decade-long relationship, he’s insecure about his place in your commitment. jeongin wasn’t sure if you loved him that much.

that was, until he “accidentally” found your journal entries. he also “stumbled upon” the messages you wrote about him to your friends. he remembered this thrill, similar to the time in the early stages of your relationship where he’d snoop on things such as your plush toys, shirts, underwear…he got a bottle of your perfume just to spritz it on his pants, pretending you were jerking him off from below.

now here he was, surfing through your written words about how much you loved jeongin. you truly loved your boyfriend — but nobody was like him, fucking into his own hand while seeing you gush over him in your friend’s messages. he wanted you to gush all over his cock, his body, his face, only to slap him and scold him, forcing your arms on his cheeks to make him face you in fear. he wanted you to stop him from dealing with your stuff, telling him to mind his own things — exactly the same way you found out he was messing with your underwear before.

jeongin’s thinking please, just please, put me in place, don’t make me go anywhere else, i’ll never doubt you again. i’ll drown in you.