The Canvas

Within 20 minutes, the girl left satisfied with the few ideas you'd given her and excited about the studio opening. Little did you know that the girl was a mutual friend of a certain someone.

In the next hour, this girl was walking when she bumped into one of her friends, Felix. Felix was one of the very few friends Hyunjin had in this university, and at that moment, they were walking together. The girl and Felix started chatting, and Hyunjin did the awkward stance of an introvert waiting for his extroverted friends to finish speaking with the 7th friend they've bumped into. As the conversation went on, Felix asked the girl what she was doing this weekend. She excitedly announced, "Oh, I wasn't gonna do much, but the Visual Culture TA told me about a pottery studio opening she's gonna check out, so I'll probably go."

Hyunjin locked in immediately. "A pottery studio?" He looked like he had just popped his head from behind Felix. "Why? You interested, dude?" asked Felix before the girl could answer, smiling at his friend who surprisingly spoke with such excitement. "Yeah, she said it's close to the 7/11 that's behind the Faculty of Education," the girl said absentmindedly. She didn't think much of it. Hyunjin was the one who thought a lot about it.

In fact, after that conversation was over, it was difficult for him not to think about it. He had your number now, he could text you, he could ask you to meet up again, to take you out. But he didn't. His mind was plagued by images of the night you spent together. Your words, your hands around his throat, your pussy wrapped and clenching around his cock. He had had sex before, but given his preferences in bed, his previous experiences weren't that memorable. But you. You made him realize how good sex could feel. Not only because in his eyes, you were gorgeous, and he was beyond attracted to you. But because you were two sides of the same coin in bed. He hadn't stopped thinking about that night, about you, about all the things he was surprised he had the balls to say while he was inside you. And the fact that you seemed to enjoy them. The sounds you made.

In short, he had spent most nights since then touching himself a medically concerning amount. The memories were just too much, and when he was alone in bed, his mind only filled with you, what else was he supposed to do? He'd wrap his hand tightly around his cock, trying to imitate the exact amount of pressure your pussy put around him. Whimpering little pleases and your name, the moment the memories would hit him like a train until his cock literally hurt.

So, no, considering what he had been doing, the man wasn't about to text "Hey girl wanna meet up". Especially because, above all, he didn’t think he had an actual chance with you, especially out of the bedroom. So his desperate ass did the next ‘‘logical’’ thing. 

When Saturday arrived, he got all dolled up. More than he did to go out with friends or on the weekend, but ma boy was on a mission.

He had made his hair extra fluffy because he noticed you liked that. Absolutely made the conscious decision to wear an open and lower-cut neckline to show his neck and collarbone. He made sure he smelled heavenly and layered perfumes that he only wore for special occasions. (In his head, this was a special occasion.)

And this man was 20 minutes early to the opening of the studio. Was it embarrassing to go to a studio about something he never really had an interest in because a woman he slept with once mentioned to somebody that she might go? Yes. He knew that much. But he was down to accept whatever humiliation if it meant you giving him a sliver of your attention.

The woman who was finishing the last touches to the décor outside looked up and saw him approach. "Oh, are you here for the opening?" She said, almost surprised, with a bright smile on her face. "I- yeah, I am actually," he said, politely but quietly. The woman was in her 50s, so she immediately started mothering him. "Where are you from, young man?" "Are you studying?" "What are you studying?" "How did you get into pottery?"

Mind you, with every question, he kept blushing more and more because he kept thinking about how this sweet, talkative lady was asking him questions because he'd been her first visitor; meanwhile, he's there because he hoped one day you choke him again.

As minutes passed, he found himself...also helping with the set-up? Oh yeah, he felt really bad about being a pervert. He was setting a plate of welcome cookies on a small table in the front, as the auntie had asked him, adjusting it a little, when he heard a voice behind him.

"Do you fucking work here?" You asked.

Not mad or rude, just surprised and very much amused. He recognized your voice immediately and spun on his heel to turn around and look at you. "Um, no, I just- I'm just helping out, I got here early," he said, glancing at his phone. He realized you were also early. Why?

"You got here early, so she employed you?" You asked, almost laughing as you took off your bag to set it down somewhere. He smiled and giggled while looking down awkwardly. "This is your new assistant?" He heard you joke as the owner appeared. She laughed and patted Hyunjin's shoulder, "Nope, just a decent young man."

The sheer willpower it took for you not to laugh at her calling him, of all people, decent would impress anyone who could understand. Hyunjin saw the irony in it too, considering his deep blush and his eyes being plastered on the ground. "Ah, yes, one of the few left."

‐--------------------------------------------------------------------

As time passed, he figured out two things. 

1. You knew the owner. Which wouldn't be a problem in itself. But it was since he had essentially laid out his whole life story when she was asking him questions before you arrived. Which meant that if he comes up in your conversation with her, he's fucked to say the least.

2. You had no interest in having a conversation with him

As the opening finally happened, there was a small crowd gathered- the owner's friends from college, a few pottery enthusiasts, local artists, etc. The girl that you recommended this to also showed up at some point, and you happily introduced her to the owner. Which had Hyunjin puzzled. He thought maybe you weren't really the social type, and you weren't a fan of too many pleasantries. He slowly realized you probably just weren't a fan of...him in general.

Yes, the realization hurt as he was left walking around the studio, people occasionally making small talk with him about the pots and mugs displayed. But still, he came here, put more effort into how he looked than he did at his prom, so he quietly hyped himself up to make a real effort to talk to you.

His eyes scanned the room, finding you in the corner, fortunately not talking to anybody, quietly reading the different glazing methods used for the ceramics. He approached you from the side, shyly greeting you.

"Hey," he said, his voice lower than the ground. You turned to him, gave him a tight little smile, and watched him melt in real time under your gaze.

"Hi," you said simply. That's the thing about you that always fascinated him. When he greeted people with short, curt words, it always came out awkward. But when you did, the effect was the exact opposite; it's like letting the room know you're confident enough to know you don't owe anybody anything, but nice enough to have standard decency.

"I didn't want things to be weird after that night..." he started, clearing his throat. "But I think I made them more awkward when I asked for your phone number," he let out a short laugh, hoping you'd find his demeanor endearing and praying you don't think he's just a creep. You did find it endearing, admittedly not enough to laugh, but enough to smile at his behavior. “It’s fine, maybe I shouldn’t have thrown you out so soon,” you tilted your head. “No, no, you didn’t throw me out, you…strongly suggested I leave,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. You giggled. “In any case, you didn’t know I was gonna be here for it to be weird. Plus, at this point, I think we are grown up enough for it not to be awkward,” you said matter-of-factly. He nodded. He should say something. He can’t just keep showing up where you were. He cleared his throat, mustering all the confidence he had.

“If that's the case…would you like to go grab something sweet after this?”

Oh shit. You put the little booklet you were still holding and turned to him. “Listen,” you started, and he wanted to die right then and there. Why would he think you’d say yes? How dumb could he be to think there was a chance he could spend time with you in any capacity, whether it be sex, a date, or even a conversation? Who was he t-

“Do you want to sleep with me again?” you said casually.

“What!?”

“What…?”

He stayed quiet, his brows lifted adorably. You turned entirely towards him. In the few days since the night you slept together, you seemingly forgot how fun it was to toy with him.

“Oh, sorry, it’s okay that you don't, don't w-” you said, trying not to smile.

“N-no, no, it’s not- I didn’t say that,” and then he went silent again.

You cocked an eyebrow. You kept playing with him, cuz why not?

“It’s okay if you're just not into the subby stuff, don’t worry,” she shrugged. He was, in fact, a sub. You knew that. It was painfully obvious he was a sub.

He blushed, twiddling with his thumbs as he looked down. “I didn’t say that either…” he murmured under his breath. All the confidence in him- abolished within a minute under your gaze. You leaned in towards him, your head tilting, looking into his eyes. “Then what exactly got your tail between your legs, sweetheart?”

He knew that voice. He knew that voice since it was the one he stroked his cock to every night since you slept together. And he almost fainted when he heard it. But he stayed silent, his brain short-circuited, and he had no idea what the right thing to say was. “Come on, use your words.”

He looked up. Oh my god. His eyes were starting to get teary, and his breathing was getting deeper. His was slightly ajar, soft lips looking like an invitation, but he stayed quiet.

_______________________________________

Not even 30 minutes later, he could feel the precum smearing against the inside of his underwear. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving, he was biting his lower lip, trying not to whimper as he kept his eyes pinned to the ground. He could bear looking into your eyes; it never ended with him not embarrassing himself. 

Especially since he was on his knees with his hands clasped behind his back, next to your coffee table, you in front of him, sitting on the couch with your legs crossed. You had a plate on the coffee table with cookies and brownies. A cup of tea sitting nestled in your hands. “Do you know the color system?” you asked carefully. “Y-yeah,” he responded quietly. You nodded, “Use it without doubt, okay?”

He nodded, feeling his heart tighten at your principality. You cleared your throat, “Tell me,” you commanded. “Isn’t this what you wanted, baby?” you said, referring to the things on the table.

He nodded without looking up. With every word you said, his cock pulsed. “Use your words.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said immediately, his voice shaky. Your hand reached out, you cupped his jaw, and lifted it. “You wanted to go grab something sweet.” With your other hand, you put down your mug and took a small piece of brownie from the plate, “Now look at me.” Your hand got closer to him, but his eyes trailed it. “Keep your eyes on me.” He immediately lifted his eyes back up to you and was greeted by your unwavering stare. 

His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the iris. He swallowed hard, the movement of his Adam's apple sharp and jagged in the dim light of the living room. He looked wrecked, his breathing shallow and hitched, as if the mere sight of her was draining the oxygen from his lungs.

"Please," he rasped, the word barely a breath. His gaze remained locked on hers, anchored by her command, even as his focus flickered desperately toward the dark, fudgy sweet held between her fingers. And, no, he didn’t know what he was begging for, but it didn’t take much for him to do so in her presence.

His hips gave a small, involuntary twitch forward, a silent plea for proximity. The tension in his thighs was palpable, muscles coiled tight as he fought the urge to lunge. He was a man starving, and you were holding the only feast that mattered. He waited, trembling, his entire existence narrowed down to the heat of her hand near his face and the command in her eyes.

“Open.” Your tone was quiet but sharp. It took less than a second for his jaw to hang low.

He obeyed instantly, his jaw unhinging to accommodate the morsel. As the rich, dark chocolate hit his tongue, he let out a muffled groan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. The sweet was good, yeah, whatever, but it was the dynamic between you two that had him creaming his pants. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. The way you were acting with him was different compared to the passionate, messy hook-up last time. Now, this felt like something serious, like an arrangement was building between a sub and his dom that was final, that had weight. 

The warmth of the brownie seemed to ignite a different kind of hunger, one that had nothing to do with sugar.

His eyes never left yours, even as he worked the food. A small smear of chocolate clung to the corner of his lip, a dark contrast to his pale skin. He swallowed hard, the movement slow and deliberate, his throat working as he gulped down the sweetness. 

The silence in the room grew heavy, thick with the sound of his ragged breathing. He leaned in just a fraction, his forehead nearly brushing her knee, his gaze dropping momentarily to her mouth before snapping back to her eyes. He was panting, the sugar rush clashing with the ache in his groin. He looked desperate, his tongue darting out to lick the stray chocolate from his lip, his eyes pleading for more than just a treat.

“You wanted something sweet, didn’t you?” You lifted your brow in question, and you couldn’t help but smile a little at his dazed, pretty eyes staring back at you. He nodded like a puppy, “Y-eah,” his voice cracked, “Thank you, ma’am.” You hummed, looking him up and down and lifting your hand to pet his hair.

The sudden weight of your foot against his straining length forced a sharp, jagged hiss from between his teeth. His spine arched, his back bowing as he instinctively tried to press into the pressure rather than pull away. The sensation was a brutal, delicious friction; the soft arch of your foot mashed his pulsing heat against the hard fabric of his trousers, creating a dull, heavy ache that radiated straight to his core.

"God..." he breathed, his entire body shaking, his eyes fluttering shut for a split second before he forced them open to meet your gaze. His hands gripped his own thighs, knuckles turning white as he fought to remain still under your foot. The sheer contrast of her gentle hand stroking his hair and the heavy, insistent pressure between his legs sent his nervous system into a frenzy.

His breath came in short, uneven stabs, his chest heaving. The sweetness of the brownie was still a lingering hum on his tongue, but it was being rapidly overtaken by the metallic tang of arousal and the mounting tension in his pelvis. He felt vulnerable, pinned by your gaze and your limb, his body trembling with the effort of not lurching upward to catch your ankle. He was a coiled spring, waiting for the next command to either release him or break him.

The pressure of her foot shifted, grinding slightly against the sensitive head of his cock through the fabric. He let out a broken, high-pitched whimper, his head lulling back as his eyes squeezed shut. The sensation was too much; the friction was a beautiful torture that made his vision swim with white sparks.

"Please..." he choked out, the word trembling with a desperate, unrefined need. He leaned his forehead against her knee, his shoulders shaking as he fought the urge to grab her ankle and pull it harder against him. "Please, ma'am... please."

You leaned forward, your fingers still tangled in his hair, your voice dropping to a teasing, melodic lilt. "Please what, baby? You have to use your words. What is it you're begging for?"

The question hit him like a physical blow. His face flushed a deep, burning crimson, the heat spreading down his neck and into his chest. He was a man undone, reduced to a stuttering mess by your simple inquiry. He opened his mouth to answer, but the words died in his throat, replaced by a pathetic, needy whine. He couldn't say it; the sheer vulgarity of his desire felt too heavy. Instead, he shifted in place pathetically.

Your fingers clamped around his throat, not enough to choke, but enough to command his absolute attention. The sudden, firm grip forced his head back, exposing the vulnerable line of his neck. "Don’t do that, now," you murmured, your eyes piercing through his haze of lust. "Say the first thing that comes to your mind, sweet boy. Right now."

He almost groaned at the pleasure of feeling your hand around his throat again. The bluntness of the command stripped away his last shred of composure. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird, and the heat in his cheeks felt like it might scald him. He was trembling so violently that his teeth nearly clattered together. He looked up at you, his eyes glassy and unfocused, his mouth hanging slightly open as he struggled to pull the thought from the depths of his desperation. 

"I..." he started, his voice cracking. He swallowed hard against your palm, the sensation of your skin against his windpipe sending a jolt of electricity down his spine. He closed his eyes, the image burned into his mind, the scent of your skin, the weight of you, the overwhelming sensation of being completely consumed by you.

"I want you to sit on my face," he gasped out, the words tumbling from his lips with a raw, unpolished urgency. You smiled wildly and leaned down.

The kiss was a sudden, overwhelming invasion. Your mouth crashed against his, deep and demanding, tasting of tea and the lingering sweetness of the brownie. As you leaned in, your grip on his throat tightened just enough to make his pulse thud wildly against your palm, a frantic rhythm that mirrored the pounding in his ears. He groaned into your mouth, his hands curled into fists and shaking uselessly on his thighs, terrified to touch you without permission but aching to pull you closer. The friction of your tongue against his was a delicious, dizzying chaos.

Just as the heat reached a fever pitch, you pulled away, leaving him gasping for air, his lips swollen and wet. The sudden absence of your warmth felt like a physical ache.

"Good boy," you murmured, your smile a predatory, beautiful thing. You released his throat, your fingers trailing down his jaw one last time before you stood. The command was simple, yet it carried the weight of an absolute law. "Lay down on the carpet."

He didn't hesitate. He scrambled back on his knees, his movements clumsy and frantic, driven by a desperate need to obey. He lowered himself onto the plush fibers of the rug, his chest heaving, his eyes fixed on you.

He scrambled to his feet, his hands trembling as he reached out toward you, desperate to assist, to peel the fabric away from your skin and worship you with his touch. He wanted to be the one to slide the hem of your shirt up, to feel the warmth of your waist beneath his palms. But the sharp, authoritative tilt of your head stopped him mid motion.

"Stay," you commanded, your voice low and steady.

The rejection of his service stung, but the command was too intoxicating to resist. He sank back onto the carpet, his limbs feeling heavy and uncoordinated, as if his muscles had turned to liquid. He lay flat on his back, his head resting against the floor, staring up at you with wide, hungry eyes. 

He watched, mesmerized, as you began to undress. Every movement was a slow, deliberate torture. The soft rustle of fabric sliding over skin sounded like thunder in the quiet room. He tracked the line of your hips, the curve of your waist, and the pale expanse of your skin as it was revealed to him. His breath hitched, coming in shallow, ragged gasps that made his chest ache. He felt small beneath her gaze.

You moved toward him with a slow, predatory grace, the air in the room thickening. When you finally descended, straddling his chest, the weight of your thighs pressing into his pectoral muscles made his heart lurch. He looked up at you, his vision blurred by the sheer intensity of your presence.

"Do you really want this?" you asked, your voice a velvet caress that demanded total honesty.

"Yes" he gasped, nodding so enthusiastically his head nearly thudded against the floor. "Yes, ma'am, please. Anything. Just…” he was already out of breath, ”please, sit on my face. Please." He reached up, his fingers twitching as if wanting to grasp your hips, but he kept them curled near his sides. "I've been a good boy, ma’am, I've been so good."

You leaned down, your hair cascading like a silken curtain, your eyes searching his. "And are you going to keep being a good boy?"

A low, broken moan escaped him, a sound of pure, unadulterated surrender. The friction of your heat against his chest was driving him to the brink of madness. "Yes," he whimpered.

His world narrowed down to the scent of your skin and your overwhelming heat. As you lowered yourself, the first contact of your wet, swollen folds against his lips made his entire body shudder. He didn't wait; he couldn't. The moment you settled, his mouth found you with a desperate, starving precision, his tongue lashing out to latch onto your clit.

A guttural, primal moan tore from his throat, muffled by your flesh. The taste was intoxicating, salty, sweet, and heavy with the musk of your arousal. He was drowning in you, and he loved it. As you began to move, the rhythmic friction of your hips grinding against his face sent jolts of electricity through his skull. He moved with you, his head tilting and swaying to meet every downward thrust, his tongue working with a frantic, rhythmic devotion.

"Mmmph... ma’am..." he whimpered against you, the sound vibrating through your entire core. Every time you sank deeper, his nose pressed into your soft skin, inhaling your essence as he tasted the slick evidence of your need. He was lost in the sensation of you, the wet sounds of your skin meeting his face filling his ears.

He stayed focused on your clitoris for several long moments, his tongue flickering with relentless, rhythmic precision. Each lap sent a fresh wave of tremors through your thighs, but his hunger was evolving. He shifted his angle, parting your folds with his tongue to drive it inward.

As he thrust his tongue deep into you, you let out a sharp gasp. He was thicker than you had anticipated, the broad, muscular surface of his tongue stretching your walls with a startling fullness. It felt incredibly hot, a sliding, fleshy intrusion that filled you entirely. The sensation was overwhelming, a combination of intense pressure and the velvety, wet friction of his movements.

Your back arched sharply, your spine curving like a bow as you sought to accommodate the pleasure. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your nails catching in his skin as you rode the sensation. His tongue pumped inside you with a heavy, squelching rhythm that echoed in the quiet room. He let out a muffled, needy sound against you, his breath hot and damp against your inner thighs, as he explored the tight, pulsing heat of your interior.

Seeking stability amidst the tidal wave of sensation, you reached behind you, your fingers fumbling until they hooked firmly into the leather of his belt. You used him as an anchor, pulling yourself tighter against his face. With a low, determined hum, you arched your torso backward, shifting your center of gravity to maximize the contact.

You began to move in slow, indulgent waves, your hips rolling in a circular, grinding motion that smeared your slickness across his cheeks and chin. It was a continuous, heavy friction that massaged his entire mouth and nose with your most sensitive parts. The sensation of your pussy sliding over his lips, the constant, wet pressure of your grinding against his tongue, drove him into a state of sensory overload.

He let out a series of long, low moans that vibrated directly into your pelvic bone, the sound thick with a mixture of worship and desperation. His hands flew to your hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh there to help guide them, though he was mostly just trying to stay grounded. Every time you rolled your hips, the squelching, visceral sound of your bodies meeting filled his ears.

His moans were no longer controlled; they were raw, animalistic sounds that bubbled up from his chest every time you ground your weight into his mouth. He was grinding up into nothing, shaking with need. 

Between the heavy, wet thrusts of his tongue, he managed to squeeze out broken fragments of praise. "God, fuck... yes- love it…”  amongst the unholy sounds of arousal, “love how you use me..." he gasped, his voice thick and distorted by the moisture. "Love being y-your toy..."

The validation seemed to fuel you. You increased the tempo, your hips moving with a fierce, punishing intensity. The wave-like motions became sharper, more frantic, the friction generating a searing heat that made his skin flush. The sound of your wetness, the slapping squelch of your folds against his face, was deafening in his ears, a siren song of pure hedonism.

His composure was finally shattered. His fingers, previously tentative, suddenly clamped onto the flare of your hips with bruising strength. His knuckles were white, his grip iron tight as he anchored you to him, reaching for the very force that was destroying him. He tilted his head back slightly, trying to take more of you in, his breath hitching in a series of panicked, shallow stabs.

"I'm- please... I'm close," he choked out, his voice a fractured wreck of its former self. His grip on your hips was frantic, his thumbs digging into your skin as his entire frame shuddered with the onset of a climax. His eyes were rolled back as he neared the edge.

"Hold it," you commanded, your voice cool, followed by a long moan. You didn't slow your pace; instead,  you ground harder, your hips performing a ruthless, circular motion that denied him any reprieve. "Don't you dare let go until I tell you."

"Please, ma'am, please," he sobbed, the request breaking into a series of desperate, stuttering whimpers. He was losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, his brain reduced to a singular, throbbing point of sensation. 

Beneath your inner thighs, you felt a sudden, hot bloom of moisture- between his face and your skin- he had begun to cry, his cheeks were red, and the lower half of his face was soaked. The sensation of his release fighting against her command sent him over the edge of sanity. 

The world exploded in a violent pulsing. As your orgasm crested, your internal muscles clamped down on his tongue that felt like a thousand tiny, electric contractions. He let out a strangled, muffled loud moan against you, his hands trembling violently as they gripped your thighs, his fingers digging into your soft skin to keep from falling apart. He was caught in the crossfire of your pleasure, his tongue buried deep in your heat as you bucked against his face, your cries echoing in the small space between you two.

Slowly, the frenetic energy began to ebb. You slumped forward, your chest heaving as you fought for air, your breath coming in ragged, exhausted pants. Even as you calmed, your anatomy betrayed you, your walls continuing to twitch and clench rhythmically around his tongue in the aftershocks of your climax.

In the hazy, post orgasmic fog, your hands wandered blindly downward, seeking purchase. Your palm slid over the heated skin of his chest before brushing against the fabric of his trousers. He froze. Beneath your touch, the cotton was heavy, sodden, and steaming with a concentrated patch of warmth. 

His eyes snapped open, wide and brimming with more tears. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, ma’am, I couldn’t.”

The air in the room turned frigid despite the lingering heat of their bodies. Your voice was a razor, slicing through the blissful, post-orgasm haze that had begun to settle over him. He felt your weight lift, a sudden, jarring emptiness where your warmth had been, leaving him feeling exposed and shivering on the carpet.

"You make me feel good," you murmured, your tone deceptively soft, "now you think you can do whatever you want?"

He trembled violently, his muscles twitching with a mix of residual pleasure and sudden, sharp dread. He looked up at you, his face flushed and messy, his lips swollen and glistening with your juices. He wanted to apologize, to beg for forgiveness, but the words were stuck in his throat, choked by the sheer intimidation of your gaze.

"And just as I was about to call you a good boy..." you paused, letting the silence hang, heavy and suffocating. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic, panicked drumbeat that he was certain you could hear.

Without another word, you stood, your silhouette tall and commanding against the dim light. "Bedroom. Now." He didn't dare speak. He scrambled to his feet.

He had already begun to sink toward the mattress. But the sharpness of your voice acted like a whip, snapping him upright mid motion. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Unlike your usual measured command, it hit him like a physical slap. He froze, one knee halfway to the duvet, his breath hitching in his throat. He felt small, foolish, and utterly caught. The shame of his premature release burned hotter in his cheeks than the pleasure ever had. But being bad had never felt so fucking good.

"On your knees in front of the mirror, right now," you directed. Your eyes pointed sharply toward the floor length mirror standing against the far wall.

He moved with the stiff, jerky motions of a man walking toward a gallows. His legs felt heavy, his knees hitting the hardwood floor with a dull thud in front of the glass. He stared at his reflection a disheveled, sweating, wide eyed mess with a visible, damp stain darkening his trousers. This man was exactly where he wanted to be.

The coolness of your skin against his back was a stark contrast to the feverish heat radiating from his own body. As you knelt behind him, your chin resting heavily on his shoulder, he could see your eyes in the mirror, watchful and entirely unimpressed by his lack of discipline.

"You like cumming your brains out, huh?" you whispered, your breath tickling his earlobe.

Before he could stammer out a defense, he felt your hands reach around him. Your fingers were deft and merciless as you unfastened his waistband and slid his aching, semi-erect cock free from the damp fabric. The sudden exposure to the cool air made him gasp, his hips jerking involuntarily.

"Let's see how many you can give me in a row," you murmured.

The sheer audacity of the challenge made his head spin. He felt a wave of dizziness wash over him, his stomach flipping as the reality of your intent sank in. He had barely recovered from the first, and you were already demanding a marathon of endurance. 

Then, you began to stroke him. Your grip was firm, your palm got slick quick, and the friction was immediate and punishing.

The tightness of your fist was a crushing, perfect pressure that felt far more intense than his own frantic hands ever could. He let out a loud, broken whimper, his head lulling back against your shoulder as the sensation surged through him. His Adam’s apple glistening, contoured in the dim light. He was already teetering on the edge, his body far too sensitized to handle such a direct, unrelenting assault.

"S-sorry... Ma'am, I’m so sorry..." he sobbed, the apologies tumbling out in a frantic, stuttering stream. He was a mess of contradictions, aching for the friction while simultaneously terrified of the punishment it would bring. "I didn't mean to... please, it just... it happened so fast..."

His hips bucked against your hand, his entire body tensing into a rigid, trembling line. The visual of himself in the mirror, seeing his own desperate expression and the way his cock strained within your grip, only served to accelerate the inevitable. He felt the familiar build-up in his gut, a pressure so immense it felt like it might split him open.

With a final, strangled cry of your name, he broke. He came hard, his body convulsing as he spilled himself across his own stomach, your hand, and the floor.

"Oh, look how much you're cumming, even though you already did once," you mused, your voice dripping with a cruel, honeyed amusement. You didn't stop the motion; you simply watched the thick, pearly fluid coat your fingers and his skin, your eyes tracking every drop in the mirror. "You must be used to cumming a lot."

The degradation hit him harder than the physical sensation. It was a psychological lash that stripped away his dignity, leaving him raw and exposed. Instead of shrinking, however, his body betrayed him; the intensity of the shame sent a fresh, violent surge of blood to his groin. Despite the exhaustion, despite the soreness, he felt himself thickening, hardening painfully under your hand once more.

"Is that what you do every night?" you continued, leaning closer so your lips brushed his ear, your voice a whisper. "Fist your cock until it's sore?"

A sob caught in his throat, and his eyes welled with hot, stinging tears. The accuracy of your words was a serrated blade. He thought of the desperate, repetitive friction of his own hand in the dark, the mindless pursuit of a release that never quite satisfied. His mind was plagued with images of you, sounds of your voice, the glistening of your cunt.

You didn't allow him a second to mourn his pride. Without a moment's hesitation, you tightened your fist around his length, the sudden, crushing pressure forcing a strangled, high-pitched moan from his lungs. He felt like he was being squeezed between two worlds, the exquisite agony of the friction and the crushing weight of your judgment.

"Please, not more, ma'am... please..." he begged, his voice a pathetic, watery rasp. He was trembling so violently that his teeth clicked together.

You slowed down. “Color?” you asked carefully. His breath caught bu the couldn’t stop his whimpers. “G-green, fuck so fucking green,” he said, panting, making your smile from ear to ear.

Your strokes became faster, rougher, stripping away any remaining gentleness. You weren't coddling him; you were working him, treating his body like a tool meant solely for your entertainment. As you pumped him, you leaned in, your lips pressing hot, biting kisses into the crook of his shoulder, your teeth grazing his skin just enough to leave a mark.

"You think I don't notice how you get harder when I'm mean to you?" you whispered, your voice a sultry, mocking purr. "You're such a pervert, baby, aren't you?"

The nod was frantic, a desperate affirmation of the truth you had laid bare. He couldn't deny it; the shame was the very fuel that kept his pulse racing. He felt the heat of your breath on his neck, the friction of your hand becoming a blur of sensation that pushed him toward another climax.

"I'm a pervert... I'm dirty, ma'am," he gasped, the words stumbling out of him as his hips began to jerk in an involuntary dance against your palm. Tears finally spilled over, hot tracks running down his cheeks again and blurring his vision in the mirror. "I deserve... to be punished,” he whimpered. ”Please, punish me..."

He was spiraling, his mind a chaotic swirl of your mocking laughter and the intense, localized ache in his groin. The buildup was different this time, sharper, more jagged, fueled by the psychological sting of your words. His breath came in short, panicked hitches, and his entire body felt wound tight like a spring ready to snap.

Every quick, rough stroke she delivered felt like a lightning strike to his nerves. He could feel the pressure building in his loins, a heavy, throbbing weight that demanded release. He was right there.

A low, predatory hum vibrated in your chest, followed by the sharp, sudden sting of your teeth sinking into the tender meat of his neck. He let out a long, broken groan, his head lulling sideways as he surrendered to the bite. The pain was a grounding wire in the sea of pleasure, anchoring him to the reality of your control.

"You touch yourself often, sweet boy?" you asked, your voice a silky thread of interrogation. You didn't slow your hand; if anything, the rhythm became more punishing, more relentless.

The question cracked his fragile composure entirely. A sob tore from his throat, a raw, ugly sound of pure confession. "Y-yeah," he blubbered, his voice hitching as he struggled to breathe through the tears. "I do... it has been getting even worse since we fucked-"

The sudden shift in your energy was instantaneous. The friction of your hand stopped dead, the sudden stillness more jarring than the movement had been. He felt your entire body tense behind him.

"You what?" she clipped, her voice dropping an octave, losing all its playful mockery and replacing it with a dangerous, sharpened edge. He nodded shamelessly, “Just- I’ve- I’ve had sex before but-” he whined, frustrated as his hips thrusted forwards inside your fist, letting you feel the veins on the side of his length and the bump at the beginning of his tip. “But nobody didn’t what you did,” he panted, “treated me the way you did.”

The tension in the air shifted from punitive to possessive. You didn't pull away; instead, she leaned in closer, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Good boy," you murmured, the praise a warm balm against the sting of your earlier words. "I like it when you're dirty. It makes you so much more fun to break."

You resumed the stroking, but the rhythm had changed; it was heavier now, more purposeful. As your right hand worked his length, your left hand wandered downward, your long nails raking deliberately, sharply, across the taut muscles of his abdomen. The sensation of those tiny, stinging crescents dragging over his skin sent a violent shudder through his entire frame, a jolt of pure electricity that made his toes curl against the floor.

"Oh god, m-ma’am!" he cried out, a broken, soaring moan that echoed in the quiet bedroom. 

The dual stimulation of the friction below and the sharp, teasing scratches above was too much for his overstimulated nerves to bear. He was a man pushed past his limit, his body acting on pure, unadulterated reflex. His hips bucked upward, his spine arching so hard it felt like it might snap.

He came again with whimpers that sounded almost painful. Because they were, andhe loved it.

One moment, he was kneeling, trembling and spent, and the next, the world tilted as you pushed him down onto the mattress. He landed with a soft huff, his breath knocked out of him, only to have your weight settle firmly over his hips. You straddled him, your thighs pinning his legs, your gaze locking onto his with an intensity that made him feel utterly captured.

"You're gonna fuck me now," she commanded, her voice a low, velvet ultimatum. "You're gonna make me cum, and you're not gonna cum. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," he whispered, his voice a submissive, breathless wreck. He nodded fervently, his eyes wide and fixated on you, his heart hammering frantic against his ribs. He was terrified, exhilarated, and desperately ready to serve you.

He watched, confused, as you reached toward the window. Your fingers curled around the curtain pullbacks, thick, heavy lines of fabric. Before he could process the movement, you leaned over him, your shadow eclipsing his vision. He felt the cool, textured cord wrap around his head, and then, darkness. The world vanished, and with it, his will to ever have vanilla sex again.

The darkness of the blindfold heightened every other sense until he was hyper aware of the friction of the sheets and the heavy, humid scent of your skin. He felt the staggering heat as you lined yourself up, the wet, swollen slit of your pussy pressing against the head of his cock. With a desperate, instinctive lunge, he thrust upward, burying himself deep within your warmth.

He began to move, his hips working in a frantic and uncoordinated manner. He was chasing the ghost of his previous releases, his body driven by a primal need to satisfy you. Your hands landed on his shoulders, your fingers digging into his muscles to anchor yourself as you rode the impact of his thrusts.

"Faster," you commanded, your voice a sharp crack in the dark. But he was lost in the sensation, his movements sluggish and heavy with the weight of his recent climaxes. He was trying to savor the feeling, to linger in the stretch of your walls, failing to heed your tone.

CRACK.

The sting of your palm against his cheek was sudden and sharp, a bright flash of pain that cut through the haze. He let out a high, shameful moan, a sound so needy and uninhibited it should have embarrassed him.

The sting of the slap acted like a shot of adrenaline, snapping his focus into a razor sharp point. His hips transformed, the sluggishness vanishing as he began to hammer into you with a ferocious, desperate speed. The sound in the room changed instantly the soft sliding of skin was replaced by the heavy slap slap slap of your pelvises colliding, a wet, visceral percussion that echoed off the walls.

"I'll make you cum, ma'am, I can make you cum" he chanted, his voice a frantic, breathless litany. He was worshipping you, his entire existence dedicated to the goal of your release. Every thrust was a prayer, a violent attempt to drive you over the edge.

His breath came in ragged, sobbing gasps. The blindfold made the sensation of your internal walls gripping him feel ten times more intense, a crushing, velvet heat that threatened to undo him with every lunge.

"Please... please cum around my cock, ma'am," he pleaded, his voice cracking with a raw, unrefined hunger.

The rhythm became frantic, a desperate race toward the finish. He felt your change, a subtle tightening of your thighs around his waist, a sudden, sharp intake of breath that signaled the end of your restraint. Within three more powerful, lunging thrusts, you broke.

Your internal muscles seized, clamping onto his cock with a violent, rhythmic ferocity that felt like a dozen tiny hands squeezing him all at once. You let out a long, harrowing moan, your voice breaking as you cried his name into the quiet of the room. The sensation of your orgasm was overwhelming; the walls of your pussy spasmed in a series of intense, milking contractions that seemed to pull the very soul out of him.

“Ma'am," he sobbed, the sound torn from his lungs. The sheer, crushing tightness of your climax was almost too much to bear. He felt like he was being swallowed whole by your heat. He gripped your hips so hard his knuckles went white, his body trembling with the effort of staying upright as your waves of pleasure crashed over him.

He was drowning in you, his vision swimming behind the fabric of the blindfold. The wet, slapping sounds of their bodies intensified, a frantic crescendo of friction.

The frantic, heavy atmosphere of the room slowly dissolved, replaced by a profound, ringing silence. As the echoes of your cries faded and the violent spasms of your body subsided into soft, rhythmic tremors, you reached up. Your fingers worked deftly at the knot of the fabric, untying the makeshift blindfold and lifting it away.

Light flooded back into his vision, though it felt too bright, too sharp after the darkness. He blinked, his eyes red-rimmed and heavy with tears, looking up at you with a vulnerability that was almost painful to witness. He looked thoroughly wrecked, with hair matted with sweat, skin flushed, and his chest still heaving with the remnants of his exertion.

Without a word, he sat up, his movements slow and heavy. He didn't reach for himself or try to reclaim his dignity; instead, he reached for you. He sat up, pulled you close, curling his arms around your waist and tucking his head into the crook of your neck, holding you as if you were the only solid thing in a world that had just spun out of control.

You shifted, settling your weight against him, your hands finding the nape of his neck. When they finally pulled back just enough to look at one another.

The heavy, languid weight of your shared exhaustion made every movement feel like you two were wading through honey. You stumbled out of the tangle of limbs on the floor, your bodies uncoordinated and weak, skin still tacky with sweat and the cooling traces of your passion. There was no grace in your ascent, only a mutual, silent gravitation toward the sanctuary of the mattress.

You tumbled onto the bed in a clumsy heap of limbs, the soft duvet rising to meet you. The air was still thick with the scent of sex and the fading heat of your bodies, but the tension that had defined the last hour had evaporated, replaced by a profound, peaceful intimacy. 

As you settled, you found yourself staring into each other's eyes. In the dim light, the predatory glint in your gaze had softened into something infinitely tender, and the frantic, desperate hunger in his had smoothed into a quiet, contented adoration. A small, sleepy smile tugged at the corners of your mouths. 

Without needing to say a word, you drifted toward each other. He pulled you close, his chin resting atop your head, while you tucked your face into the hollow of his chest. Within seconds, sleep took over.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

Author's note: way more people than I expected asked for a part 2 so here it is I hope yall like it(I know I did)

Chan: 

Chan is in the studio, per usual, working through some tracks with Han and Changbin. They have been there for a while, but they are on a roll. Then there is a soft knock on the door. You peak your head in, “Hey, I brought some dinner, since I’m assuming you didn’t eat.” 

Han and Changbin jump up immediately. “Thanks Y/N!” 

“Heck yeah! I was starting to get hungry.” 

You giggle as they start digging through the food. You step over to Chan who hasn’t moved yet. “Sorry I didn’t text. It was a last minute thing.” 

He stares at you for a minute, saying nothing, face blank. 

“Chan?” You wave your hand in front of his face. “You okay?”

He shakes his head and blinks, “Yeah, sorry.” His voice cracks just a bit in a very manly and normal way of course. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m glad you stopped by.” 

You smile, relieved he isn’t bothered by the sudden appearance, “Well, I can’t stay. I have to get home to work on some things. Don’t stay up too late.” You point to Han and Changbin who have already stuffed their face with food, “Don’t let him stay up too late or I’ll never bring you food again.” They both aggressively nod their head as if it’s life and death. You laugh at their silliness, turning back to Chan. You lean down to kiss his forehead and whisper, “Love you. See you later.” You walk past the boys, giving a small wave as you leave the studio. 

Han swallows his mouthful, “Your girlfriend is the best.” 

“Yeah, you’re really lucky.” Changbin says, mouth half full. 

Chan sits there, still staring at the door. 

“Earth to Chan.” Han waves his hands in Chans face. Chan just slowly turns to look at Han, face blank, mouth slightly agape. “Are you okay man?” 

Chan finally snaps out of it, clearing his throat, “Yeah…sorry. Let’s uh get back to work.” 

“Can’t we take a second to eat?” Changbin whines.

“Eat while we work.” Chan orders. 

The boys roll their eyes but follow. 

“So, we were discussing switching Lee Know and I.N. on this part.” Changbin recaps, “I think Lee Know’s voice fits the lyrics better, but what do you think?”

“I think both of them fit the vibe. Channie-hyung you wrote the lyrics, who do you think matches the vibe better.” Han looks to Chan who is staring blankly at his computer. 

“Uuuuh, I—uh…” Chans brain has done a full stop. As soon as you walked in, his ability to function walked out. The surprise visit was enough to fluster him, but the fact that you brought food when they hadn’t even asked for it, knowing they hadn’t eaten…that really spiked his pulse. He thought he could still pull through until you kissed his forehead. Now his head is just a loading screen. All he can think about is your soft smile that warms the deepest parts of him. Your laugh that fills the room, even when it’s quiet. The feel of your lips on his skin, your soft voice on repeat, “Love you. See you later.” 

“Hello?!” Chan is snapped out of his daze by Changbin yelling at him, “Are you even in the room right now?” 

Chan blinks, staring up at the door, “I think she took me with her.” His voice is barely a whisper, almost like the words escaped without him noticing. 

Han groans, rolling his eyes, “Oh my gosh, he’s so whipped that he stopped functioning.” 

Changbin shakes his head, smile spreading on his face despite his annoyed tone, “Looks like we are done for the night. Y/N really has you wrapped around her finger, huh?” 

Chan doesn’t hear anything but your name. Before he can think, his hands go to pack up his stuff and leave. As he drifts out the door, his main thought being only you, he mumbles back to the boys, “We’re done for the night.” 

They give each other a look, “We just said that…”

“Can he even walk home?” Han questions. “I think he knows exactly where he is going.” Changbin laughs. 

And he was right. Chan knows exactly where he is going: home. You.

Lee Know:

Lee Know prides himself on his ability to stay focused and unbothered. So, when he suddenly loses focus mid-dance routine, of course everyone notices. He has been off all practice. His steps were messy; he was getting off beat; at one point, he ran face first into Hyunjin. The source of his brain fog? You decided to sit in on practice today. When you suggested it, Lee Know easily agreed. He had no idea that it would throw him completely off kilter. You aren’t even doing anything. But you don’t need to do anything to catch his attention. As you sit there in sweats and a hoodie—his hoodie—his eyes can’t help drifting over to you. After running into him for the third time, Hyunjin has had enough. 

“What is up with you today?” He complains. 

Lee Know frowns, unwilling to admit that he can’t function around you, “Nothing. Maybe you should stop running into me.”

“You ran into me…again!” 

Before things can get out of hand, Chan steps in, “Okay, we’ve been dancing for a while now, maybe we should take a breather.” 

Everyone sighs, relieved to have a break. The boys move to sit down or grab their water and Lee Knows gaze moves over to you again. You look up from your phone and make eye contact. Immediately you smile and give a small wave, your hand swallowed in the hoodie. 

. . .

Lee Knows brain goes blank again. He is frozen in the middle of the dance floor. You look back down, assuming he is going to walk over in a minute, but Lee Know doesn’t move. Rather, he can’t move. His body isn’t sure how to move. All the boys look at him, confused, as he stands like a statue. Chans gaze follows Lee Knows and finally understands what is going on. He can’t help laughing a bit.

“What’s wrong with Lee Know?” Felix whispers to Chan. 

“I think he’s in love.” Chan points to where you are sitting and Felix gets it too. 

He gets up and walks over to Lee Know who doesn’t even acknowledge Felix’s presence. 

“Oi, maybe you should go talk to her instead of staring like a creep.” 

Lee Know just lets out a huff. Felix doesn’t know if that is an acknowledgement or a default response. He pushes Lee Know towards you, causing Lee Know to almost fall on his face in front of you. As he comes tumbling over, he ends up bracing his hands on the wall above you, his whole body leaning over you. You look up confused. “Hey,” You breathily laugh. 

Lee Knows cheeks have never been redder, “hi…” his voice is tiny. 

You smile up at him and he swears he is going to explode. “Are you going to sit down or is that position really comfortable?”

He clears his throat, pushing off the wall. He sits down in front of you and you slide forward so that you are sitting between his knees. If his face wasn’t red before, it definitely is now. 

“Hi cutie,” you peck a soft kiss on his nose, “Your dancing was good.” 

“Thanks.” His voice is higher than usual.

“You seem a bit distracted though.”

“It’s nothing. Just a bit off today.” 

You lean to look past him, the rest of the boys watching this interaction trying not to laugh (most of them failing), “Maybe I should head home.”

His eyes get wider and softer like a sad kitten, “Why?”

You laugh, your hands moving up to squish his cheeks, “I seem to be a bit of a distraction.” 

“You’re never a distraction.” His words are mushed by your hands.

You shake your head, knowing full well the effect you have on him, “Whatever you say pretty boy. I can ‘not be a distraction’ later. Right now you need to focus on your practice.” You move to gather your stuff and leave. As you stand up Lee Know grabs the hem of your sleeve, looking up at you with the saddest eyes. You lean down and place a gentle kiss on his lips, “I’ll see you at home silly.” You giggle at his adorable expression and you swear he whimpers as you walk out of the room. As soon as you are out of sight, the boys go crazy laughing and shaking Lee Know. 

“Someone’s in looooooove.” 

“What’s the matter pretty boy.” 

“Is someone a little distracted?” Their teasing snaps him out of his daze. He immediately death glares them, successfully shutting them up, “Not a word.” He stands up and starts the music back, “Shut up and practice.” 

The boys quickly move into position obediently. They continue practice but not without continuous teasing. This time Hyunjin risks his life by running into Lee Know on purpose, mocking his earlier response, “Nothings wrong. You ran into me.” Whenever they have a break, Han keeps poking him, all singsongy, “You’re in love. You’re in love.” 

Despite the teasing, no one gets air fried because Lee Know is too distracted thinking about you to properly scold anyone. 

Changbin:

You walk into the café to see Changbin talking to a staff member. You agreed to meet in the JYP building café for a quick lunch since neither of you have a very long lunch break. You sneak up behind him, gesturing for the staff member to keep quiet. Before he can notice, you throw your arms around his waist, squeezing him from behind. 

“What the-“ He turns to look and see’s you laughing.

“Gotcha.” You smile. 

“H-hey Y/N, you…you scared me,” he lets out an awkward laugh, trying to hide the fact that he is flustered. 

“Aw, scared you so bad you’re stuttering,” You tease. 

He just laughs and looks away, hoping that will hide the pink in his cheeks. In truth, you did startle him, but not because he didn’t expect the attack. You startled him by looking so damn cute. Your small arms (in comparison to his) wrapping around his waist. How your eyes close when you laugh that laugh that makes his heart skip a beat. Not to mention how you are done up to look professional for work. Even though he see’s you all the time, something about today, about you sneaking up on him made it all hit differently. 

You rest your chin on his shoulder and give a small greeting to the staff member. They quickly finish their thought and take their leave. You move beside Changbin to lace your fingers through his, “Did I interrupt something important?” 

Changbin stares down at your hand, warmth spreading up the back of his neck.

“Binnie?”

“Huh?” His eyes snap back up to yours. “Oh, no. I was just thanking them for the help with our last schedule.” 

You nod and move towards the counter, pulling him with you. You lean over to him while he stares blankly at the menu, “What are you getting?” 

. . .

“Bin?”

“Uh…I…food?”

You laugh—that damn laugh. “Of course food, silly. I meant what kind of food.”

“I’m…not…sure?” Each word sounds blank and uncertain. 

“Okay well I’ll order first and then you can figure it out.” You briefly let go of his hand to step fully up to the counter to order. “Hi, can I get a beef bulgogi wrap and an iced latte?”

“Anything else?”

You turn back to Changbin who hasn’t moved. “Binnie?”

His eyes slowly track your voice, landing on you. “Oh!” He scrambles forward almost tripping on air. “Uh, can I uh, have…a…chaejap—I mean, uh, japchae.”

You bust out laughing as he stumbles over his words which only makes it worse. 

“Anything to drink?” The very patient employee asks.

“Yes.”

The employee stares at him.

“Bin, you have to tell her what you want to drink.” You say between laughs.

“Oh! Sorry. Uh, can I have an americano…uh, iced…with coffee…” 

The poor girl just nods and punches the order into her tablet, “Will that be all?” 

You finally gain some composure, “Yes, thank you for dealing with that.” 

She gives a small smile and the total. Changbin quickly reaches for his wallet, almost dropping it in the process. He goes to give her his card and accidentally gives her his driver license. “Oh wait! Sorry,” he yelps, fumbling through his wallet for his actual card. After a painfully long process, your food is paid for and you go to sit down. Changbin lets out a sigh as he settles into his chair. His relief doesn’t last for long because he misses the chair and falls straight onto the floor. You’ve completely lost it. You double over with laughter as he scrambles back into his chair. You’re shaking with laughter, tears forming in your eyes. Changbin sinks into his chair trying to hide the very obvious blush on his face. 

It takes a minute for you to regain your composure, but once you finally do, a girl brings your food and drinks to your table. “Enjoy!” She smiles. 

“Thank you.” Changbin gives a small nod. “You too.” He freezes. The kind employee just smiles and walks off. 

You’ve stopped laughing but the smile is so wide on your face it almost hurts. “Real smooth.” You tease. 

He just looks over at you, not even bothering to hide how red his face is. 

“What is up with you today, Bin? You’re off your game.” 

“I…you...it’s just…” His words get stuck with embarrassment, unsure how to tell you that the simple act of you existing makes his brain go haywire. 

“I what?” You raise an eyebrow.

He lets out a sigh, placing his head in his hands, “I can’t think straight when you…”

“When I what?”

“When you are…you.” 

“When I’m me? I hate to tell you, but I don’t think I can be anyone else.” 

He groans, “I don’t want you to be anyone else. That’s the issue.”

You are getting confused, “So you don’t want me to be me but you don’t want me to be anyone else?”

“No!” He throws his head back, trying to get his brain to have even the slightest bit of functionality. “You’re the issue. No! I mean, you’re not the issue. Your laugh is, but it’s not a bad thing, but it’s just the way you are it makes me not-“ You place your hand on his, causing his rambling to stop. 

“Binnie, look at me.” Your voice is softer now. He shyly makes eye contact, “Take a breath and go slow.” 

He takes a deep breath in. This time your touch is grounding, providing just enough focus that he can make a sentence, “You’re just so amazing that it makes it hard for me to think.” His voice is small now, “Your hands around my waist. Your smile and that laugh, god that laugh. It’s just so…beautiful and intoxicating and the only thing that I want to focus on; so all my ability to function is just…gone.” He looks away, his entire body filling with heat. “It’s dumb and cheesy, I know.“

Your eyes soften at his confession. His shy look and tiny, genuine voice makes your chest tight. You lean forward and turn his face to look at you, “Look at me. It’s not dumb, it’s sweet. It’s completely and utterly adorable.” 

“It’s completely and utterly embarrassing.” 

“Hmm, I don’t think so. I think it just shows how big of a heart you have.” 

He huffs.

“Plus, it’s funny.” 

“Ugh!” He throws his head back, hands covering his face. 

You giggle at this big man baby. You get up to stand behind him so that he is looking up at you. Gently removing his hands from his face, you lean down and press an upside down kiss on his lips. All his features soften, eyes full of affection, “You’re mean, you know that?” 

You giggle, “Why am I mean?”

“You know what I mean. Would you like to see me fall backwards in this chair?” He narrows his eyes angrily, but there is no trace of anger in his voice.

You lean down to give another quick kiss, “Hmm, maybe. It would be pretty funny.” 

He rolls his eyes in mock annoyance, but you can see the smile creeping on his face. “I’m glad my misery brings you joy.” 

“The only misery you’re going to have is hunger if you don’t gain enough composure to eat, ya big baby.” You move to sit back down, setting up both of your meals. “Hurry up and eat before I make you fall out of your chair again.” 

“Trust me, it’ll happen again.” He stuffs food in his mouth as your laughter fills the café once again. 

Hyunjin:

You sit in Hyunjin’s art studio while scrolling Instagram on your phone; your hair up in a messy bun, in sweats and one of his old t-shirts. You’ve only been dating for a few months, but his place already feels like a second home. Hyunjin is sitting in front of his canvas, back turned to you. You’ve been sitting in the quiet for a while now. Nothing but the sound of…his paintbrush? You realize that it’s been quiet for far too long. No sketching or painting. No rearranging supplies or moving around to get “the proper lighting.” Hyunjin usually hums a small tune when he’s really focused or makes little sounds when he has an idea, doesn’t like something, or really likes something. Sometimes he’ll even ask for your opinion on things. Today, not a word or a sound. You look up from your phone to see what he’s been working on and you are surprised to see nothing. He is just sitting, staring at a blank canvas, paintbrush in one hand, palette in the other. He’s sitting straight up, not moving an inch. For a second you wonder if he’s even breathing. 

“Hyun?” You keep your voice barely above a whisper. 

He flinches as if he was woken from a stupor, “hmm?” He doesn’t turn around or do anything. 

“What’re you working on?” 

“A painting.” His voice sounds shy. 

“Mhm, I see that. Why is the canvas blank? You’ve been sitting there for 20 minutes.” 

“Just—waiting for inspiration I guess.” He lets out an awkward laugh. 

You hum in response, his answer making sense. You go to stand behind him, placing your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them gently. “Can I help at all? Would you like some tea or coffee?” 

He releases a bit of tension he didn’t realize he was holding, but still doesn’t move. “Uh, tea might be good.”

“Okay, I’ll go start the kettle.” You place a gentle kiss on the top of his head and leave for the kitchen. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, Hyunjin sighs, slumping in his chair. He sets his brush and palette down, his hands moving to cover his face. As soon as you stood behind him, he was sure he was about to explode. He only hopes you didn’t see how red his ears were. He huffs, running a hand through his hair, staring at the blank canvas like it personally offended him. “Why does she have to be so beautiful?” He whispers to the canvas, “I mean I see her all the time, but wow, something about today,” his words trail off in a dreamy sigh, the canvas already forgotten. His mind is running back over the sight of you, sitting in the dim light of his studio, bare faced, hair messy, wearing his shirt with his cologne. It’s all so soft, so beautiful, so…real. When you asked to join him in the studio, he wasn’t prepared for you to look so good. He loves the way you feel comfortable enough to show him this side of you, the no makeup, messy hair side of you. He loves the way you want to be with him, even if it means sitting in the same room while he does something. You fit perfectly on his couch, in his studio…in his life and that just undoes something in his heart. His mind went blank the moment you stepped in the room. So, he’s been staring at a blank canvas, not waiting for inspiration, but thinking about his whole world, you. When you snapped him out of his daze, of course his entire body went red with embarrassment. What was he supposed to say? ‘The canvas is blank because I’m absolutely lost in dream land thinking about how amazing and beautiful and perfect you are’? As much of a romantic as he is, he never wants to be too cheesy or overwhelming with it. The last thing he wants to do is make you uncomfortable by saying too much too fast. 

The door creaks back open, his head snapping over to you. 

“Here’s your tea. I put some honey and lemon in just like you like it.” You hand him the warm cup with an even warmer smile. 

His heart melts at you remembering how he likes his tea. He gently takes the cup, his eyes never leaving yours. You sit there gazing at each other in comfortable silence. After a moment, you speak up, “You should drink it before it gets cold.” 

“Drink what?” He sighs dreamily, totally lost in your eyes. 

“Your tea? That you’re holding?” You giggle. 

His eyes widen, realizing he’s been staring for way too long. “Right, the tea. In my hands. Currently. That you made. For me.” 

You laugh as the words tumble out of his mouth. He takes a sip trying to hide the red spreading across his cheeks. 

“Did you find any inspiration?” 

“Huh?” He sets his tea on the desk next to him.

“You said you were waiting for inspiration. Did you find any?” You step closer so that you are standing between his knees. Your hands move up to play with his hair. 

He leans into your soft touch, letting out a soft sigh. “You.” The word slips out, breathy, as if on accident. It was so soft, you almost didn’t catch it, almost. 

“Huh?” 

Hyunjin freezes under your touch, his eyes going wide with realization. “I-I mean you saying that reminded me of something, that uh…that Chan—yeah—Chan said which was uh….” He quickly stutters, trying to cover his tracks, clearly making it up as he goes. 

You gently tilt his face to look at you, “Hyun, what are you doing?” Your voice is soft, not accusatory, but genuinely curious. 

“What? What do you mean ‘what am I doing?’ I-I’m...”

“Why are you trying to change your answer?” You thumb gentle, soothing strokes on his cheek.

“I-it’s…I’m not-“ He stops, letting out a defeated sigh. His gaze moves to the side, heat running up the back of his neck, “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Your heart softens at his small voice. He sounds almost scared. “Uncomfortable? Why would you make me uncomfortable?”

“We haven’t been dating for that long and I just didn’t want to overwhelm you with all my feelings.” He tilts forward, his head resting against your torso. “I know that I feel a lot and I feel it really deeply and that can make people overwhelmed or uncomfortable. I have so many feelings about you that I can’t even think straight, but I’m scared that if I show them, you’ll...” His voice gets shaky, the words stuck on his lips.

“I’ll what?” You gently stroke his head.

“You’ll get scared and leave.” Hyunjin blinks back the tears forming in his eyes. 

You feel your chest tighten at his confession. The raw honesty in his voice makes something in you unravel. You gently tilt his head back to look at you again, his eyes glassy as they meet yours. “Jinnie, listen. Your feelings are not overwhelming or too much. I love how deeply you feel about things. I love how you show that in everything you do; the way you dance, the way you sing, the way you paint, the way you take care of others. It’s beautiful and one of the many reasons I fell for you. You being honest about your feelings, about anything, doesn’t scare me. It only draws me closer.” You lean down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Never be afraid to share your feelings with me. Please.” 

“Even if they are super cheesy and overly romantic?”

You let out a small laugh, “Even more so then. I like cheese. And believe it or not, I’m quite the romantic myself.” 

He cocks an eyebrow, the mischief sneaking back in, “Is that a challenge?”

“Only if you want it to be, lover boy.”

He pulls you in by the waist, causing you to sit in his lap. He smashes his lips against yours, all his feelings and passion flowing into it. Your hands move up to play with his hair, intertwining with the long, silky locks. His hand moves to the back of your head, deepening the kiss. You breathe each other in, moving together, like art in motion. You only break apart for air. He rests his forehead on yours. “Thank you.” He breathes out.

“For what?”

“For being you.” His voice is raw, honest. “For loving me, all of me. For being so beautiful and caring. For doing the simple things; sitting with me in the studio, making me tea, wearing my t-shirt.” You laugh at that. “Seriously, thank you for being here, in my life.” 

You give a quick peck to his cheek, “Thanks for letting me in.” 

He pulls you tight against him, burying his face into your neck. He sits there for a moment, soaking you in. You rub soothing circles on his back and feel his whole body relax into you. You both sit there, holding each other, taking each other in, your souls intertwining. Under the dim light of his studio, it all fades into the background as his heart and mind focus on one thing: you. 

Han: 

You are sitting on the couch in the dorm, Han in front of you on the floor. He’s racing Felix in Mario Cart. Their voices ring through the dorm as they yell at each other. 

“Haha! I passed you.” Felix gloats as he takes first place. 

“You better watch it cuz here I come.” Han shoots back.

It’s a neck and neck race. Both of them flail as if leaning entirely sideways will make them turn any better. As they cross the finish line, Han just barely beats Felix in first place. Han jumps up and shouts, “Victory!” He runs a lap around the dorm, bowing to a fake crowd, taking fake flowers like he just won the olympics. Felix sits with his head in his hands, defeated. Han loops back in front of you, “Did you see that? Did you see me beat him?” His hands brace on your shoulders, slightly shaking you like a little kid. 

You giggle, “I did see.” You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, gentle and lingering. “Good job, baby.” 

Han immediately goes quiet, red spreading across his face. He stands frozen, staring at you. 

“I want a rematch!” Felix calls behind him. Han doesn’t move, the plea falling on deaf ears. 

“Han,” You try snapping him out of his daze, “Baby?” You tap his forehead lightly, “Hello? Anyone home?”

He lets out a squeak of acknowledgement.

“Felix is asking for a rematch.” 

“Yeah, sure.” He breathes out. 

Felix resets the game, waiting for Han to sit down and ready his controller. Han does not move an inch, hands still on your shoulders, eyes not moving an inch. 

“Baby, you have to turn around to play the game.” You move his hands off your shoulders, his arms limp in your grasp. You turn him around, everything following but his head. He continues to stare at you. You laugh at his frozen stare, “You need to look at the screen too.” You gently turn his head around to face the TV. 

He finally gains a sliver of composure and readies his car. Felix presses play and the speaker counts, “3, 2, 1, GO!” Felix takes off in his car, but Han runs straight into a wall. He tries to turn but ends up glitching into the wall. The game resets him, but it doesn’t take long before he hits another wall. The entire round he is hitting every obstacle and wall. His flailing from earlier is replaced by complete stillness that you didn’t think was possible from him. Felix crosses the finish line and Han is no where near behind him. 

Felix groans, “Han.exe has stopped working.” Rather than waiting for him to finish, Felix exits the round. Han sits unbothered. 

You laugh at your frozen boyfriend, “Why don’t you let me play a round?” You grab the controller out of his hand, waiting for him to switch spots with you. Of course, he doesn’t move. So you decide if he won’t move, you’ll just use him as your seat. As soon as you sit in his lap, he snaps awake. His hands naturally land on your waist, his eyes looking at you as if he doesn’t know how you got there. 

“Wha-“

“Look who finally rebooted.” Felix jokes. 

“Welcome back. I’m gonna play a round. That okay?” You ask, knowing full well he doesn’t care. 

He nods, mouth slightly open, still confused as to what just happened. As Felix presses start, you lean back into Han, “Ready to watch me win?” 

He sets his chin on your shoulder, finally gaining composure, “Crush him.” 

You race Felix, Han moving you like you are on a rollercoaster. As you pass Felix, you let out an evil laugh and Han gives him a thumbs down. This time the race wasn’t as close. You win in first place, Felix coming in third. You spin around in Han’s lap, hands shooting up in the air, “Woohoo!” 

“You won!” Han’s hands also shoot up. 

You lean in and give him another, rougher kiss. Bad idea. He immediately freezes again, hands still in the air. You groan, “Oh no, he crashed again.” You shake his face, “Hannie? Wake up!” 

He doesn’t budge. 

Felix rolls his eyes, “Just leave him. Who knows how long it will take for him to come to.” 

You laugh at your boyfriend’s cuteness. “Let me know when you’ve restarted, ‘kay?” You turn back around to look at Felix. “Want a rematch?”

“I’m gonna beat you.” 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

As the two of you set off on another race, Han continues to sit frozen in time. It takes a while but he eventually reboots and you decide it might be best to avoid kisses the rest of the day. 

Felix:

Felix rarely has days off, but luckily the company gave them a few days off after coming back from their tour. Felix hasn’t seen you in person in a few weeks, so as soon as he gets back he goes over to your place. 

You are sitting on your couch when you hear a soft knock on your door. Knowing exactly who it is, you practically run to answer. You only get the door half open before he bursts in and engulfs you in a hug. You stumble back as he crashes into you, your arms wrapping tightly around him. He buries his face in your neck, a long sigh escaping him. He is practically melting in your arms, all of the tension and exhaustion draining out of him. You stand there in each other’s arms for who knows how long; breathing each other in, making up for weeks of separation. He loves going on tour and you love supporting him, but you would both be lying if you said it didn’t sting a little to be apart for so long. After a while you reluctantly pull back just enough to look him in the eyes. Your heart cracks a little at the residual fatigue etched on his face. The bags under his eyes hang heavy, his shoulders carry the weight of a world tour. You lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, gentle and refreshing. He immediately deepens the kiss, pulling you closer by the waist. You didn’t realize how much you missed this until now. You press yourself closer until he eventually picks you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as he moves over towards your couch. He plops down on the couch, landing you in his lap, his mouth never leaving yours. Your hands are tangled up in his hair while his hands rub soothing circles on your hips. It isn’t until you can’t get enough air through your nose that you finally break apart, but you don’t move very far. You rest your forehead on his, a breathless laugh escaping you, “Welcome home.” 

He pecks a quick kiss to your lips, “It’s good to be back.” 

You spend the rest of the night holding each other, eventually moving to cuddle in your bed. You fall asleep wrapped up together under the comforter, limbs entangled, warm and calm.

— 

The morning sun peaks through the cracks in the curtains, giving your room a light golden tint. Felix rubs his eyes, having slept so well he almost forgets where he is. Then he feels the warmth pressed against his chest. He lets out a soft sigh, his heart warm at the sight of you snuggled up in blankets next to him. He checks the time on his phone and groans in jet lag. While 7am is not a bad time to wake up nor an unfamiliar time for him to wake up, he was hoping to sleep in today. Seems like time zones and jet lag have a different plan. He slips out of the bed, doing his best not to wake you up. Successfully making it to the bathroom without disturbing you, he does his typical morning routine. 

When he steps out of the bathroom, he peaks at you again. You are still a lump of blankets sleeping soundly. Felix can’t help the soft smile that forms on his lips at the sight of you. He decides to be a good boyfriend and make you breakfast. He pads over to the kitchen to open your refrigerator and sighs at the lack of ingredients. Of course you wouldn’t have anything for breakfast. So he takes a little trip to the nearest convenience store, buying enough for a simple but nutritious breakfast. When he gets back, he is careful to not make too much noise. Every movement is slow and careful. He tiptoes through the kitchen, gently taking out plates and cooking utensils. He clicks on the stove, cracking in a few eggs, and even though he doesn’t like it, he attempts to make you some coffee. As he moves around the kitchen with ease, lost in his actions, he doesn’t hear you walk into the kitchen. He jumps as he feels your arms wrap around him from behind. “Morning love, did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.” He turns in your hold and his heart stops at the sight of you. Bare faced, messy hair, wearing his oversized shirt. Your eyes are half lidded with morning grogginess. Felix swallows hard, feeling the air stuck in his lungs, taken aback by how beautiful you look. He knows you would laugh and tell him you look horrible. Maybe it’s just because he hasn’t seen you in weeks, but he doesn’t think he has ever loved you more than he does right now. “No, you didn’t wake me.” You press your face into his chest, voice raspy from having just woke up. “Oh, that’s good.” Felix’s voice comes out higher pitched than he meant it to. You don’t seem to notice though. “Thanks for making breakfast, but uh, where did you get the food from? I don’t think I had any eggs.” “I, uh, went to the store.” He struggles to make a sentence as all his attention is focused on the warmth of you pressed against him. You just hum in response, your face still pressed into his chest. His hands settle at your hips, swaying slightly with you. It’s all so domestic and that breaks something in Felix’s brain. You look up at him to say something, but he cuts you off with a kiss. It’s messy and rough, catching you off guard. But you quickly gain your composure and kiss him back. He moves to kiss you on the cheek, the nose, your forehead. You giggle as he peppers you with kisses. “Well good morning to you too.” He mumbles against your skin what you think is a good morning. It’s hard to tell with the muffled accent. Suddenly, you’re being lifted off the ground. You let out a tiny squeak, unprepared for the movement. Felix picks you up and sets you on the counter, stepping between your knees. You aren’t sure what’s gotten in to him, but you aren’t exactly complaining. Even if you wanted to, he wasn’t giving you the chance. He immediately moves to kiss you again. One hand rests on your lower back, the other on your cheek. You place your hands behind his neck, deepening the kiss, if that’s even possible. The world fades into the background. In this moment it is just you two. No kitchen, no work, no responsibilities. Just you and him, breathing each other in, sharing your entire soul with each other. You could stay here forever. Then you smell something burning. You try to pull back, but Felix follows you to close the gap. “Um, baby.” You mumble against his lips.

He just hums, his lips not leaving yours. You pull back, which just prompts him to pepper kisses on your face and neck, “The eggs?” “What about the eggs?” He mumbles against your skin. “I think they are burning.” Felix finally stops, his head whipping over to look at the eggs. His eyes go wide at the sight of his eggs, brown and smoking. He scrambles over to turn off the stove and hurriedly dumps the eggs in some water. You sit on the counter, a teasing smirk on your face, “Someone got a little distracted, huh?” 

You can tell, even with his back turned to you, that Felix is red head to toe with embarrassment. “Maybe if you didn’t look so good I wouldn’t get distracted.” His soft tone contrasts his accusation. “Good? Baby, I just woke up. My hair is a mess and I’m still in my pajamas.” You gesture to your messy appearance. “Exactly. You look beautiful.” Your chest tightens at his words. He says it so nonchalantly, as if it’s just an everyday fact. “You aren’t put together for work or dressed to go out with friends. While you still look beautiful then, this side of you is…different.” His voice goes softer, the eggs drowning, forgotten in the sink. He stands between your knees again, his hands rubbing mindless patterns on your thighs. “It’s a part of you that only I get to see. No mask up for the world, no presentation for anyone to see. Just you, real and natural. And this version of you makes my mind go blank. I just want to breathe it in for as long as I can.” “I don’t know that you did much breathing.” You tease. His face goes pink, suddenly shy about his actions. You lean in to press a quick kiss to his nose, “Thank you.” “For what?” “For being the sweetest boyfriend ever. For loving me, all of me. For spending your days off with me instead of sleeping like you should.” Your voice goes small on the last part. Felix’s eyes soften, “I can’t imagine spending my time anywhere else. A day with you is more restful than any nap or nights sleep could be.” 

This time you’re the one blushing. You pull him close, burying your face in his neck. He holds you close and gentle, like you’re the most precious thing he owns. “I love you.” You mumble into his neck. “I love you too.” He sighs, melting into your hold. Suddenly, he jerks back, eyes wide. “The coffee!” He whips around to the coffee maker. He quickly turns it off, but it’s already too late. The coffee is burnt. 

You double over laughing. Felix groans, as he dumps the burnt coffee in the sink with the eggs. You hop down from the counter to hug your defeated boyfriend. “Maybe we should order breakfast instead.” “I’m sorry. I wanted to be a good boyfriend and make you breakfast. Instead, I got distracted and burnt everything.” “So I’m a distraction now?” You cock an eyebrow at him. He smirks at you, “A very good one.” “Hmm, then maybe I can distract you a little bit more.” You lean in, him following. But right when his lips are about to meet yours, you fake him out and tickle him instead. He gasps, feeling betrayed. You laugh maniacally, running down the hallway. “Oh you’re gonna get it.” He takes off after you, a determined smile on his face. 

The rest of your day is filled with laughter and love, the poor eggs and coffee long forgotten in your sink. 

Seungmin:

Seungmin looks at his watch as he stands by the front door, his foot tapping restlessly on the hardwood. You guys have been dating for about a year but only recently went public with your relationship. Tonight is the first official event you will come to as his girlfriend. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous. He has planned for every possible scenario: paparazzi, other idols, fans, and more. He knows deep down it will be fine, but he can’t help feeling he missed something. He checks his watch again, only a minute having passed. 

“If you tap your foot any faster, it’ll fall off.” 

He looks up to see you standing in the hallway, all dressed and ready to go. You are wearing a long black dress that hugs your frame just right. There is a slit that goes up to your knee, revealing your new black strapped heels. It has a halter neckline with strap detail in the back. Your hair is in a half up half down style falling perfectly over your shoulders, strands framing your face. You decided to keep your makeup and jewelry simple. You did a basic smokey eye with neutral lipstick. You picked silver jewelry and a small black hand purse. 

Seungmin’s previous restlessness is gone, replaced with pure awe. He stands frozen, eyes locked on you, his mouth slightly agape. 

“What do you think?” You give a little spin. He doesn’t move or say anything. He just blinks slowly. You step forward, his eyes following every move, “Hello? Earth to Seungmin?” 

His hands hover over your hips, unsure if he is allowed to touch something so precious. His analytical gaze takes in every feature, every curve of you. He lightly places his hands on your hips, treating you with reverence. He has always thought you were beautiful, makeup and dress or not, but this moment is something entirely different. Something so precious, he feels like he is intruding on his own moment. To him, you look like a goddess, glowing with beauty and grace. Every movement, every breath is something he wants to bask in forever. He wants to tell you how beautiful you are, how much he loves you, how he wants to forget about the event and just stare at you forever, but his breath gets stuck in his throat. The only thing he can manage is a breathless, “Wow.” 

You smile at the rare sight of him flustered and that just about kills Seungmin. Your beautiful smile that reaches your eyes, that smile you save for him. His grip slightly tightens on your hips, in fear he might collapse if he lets go. 

You move to adjust his slightly crooked tie, a teasing glint in your eyes, “That bad, huh?” He grabs your hand, almost unconsciously, and places a soft kiss to your palm. He moves to place one on your knuckles, then slowly peppers kisses up your arm. Each one is soft and gentle against your skin, as if he is savoring every ounce of you. You giggle at his affection, “Kim Seungmin, what has gotten into you?” Instead of answering you, he continues trailing kisses up your neck and across your jaw. “You better not mess up my makeup.” You tease, but your voice is noticeably lighter, more breathless. 

The more he kisses you, the more teasing he gets. He dusts kisses on your cheeks and nose before placing a kiss on the corners of your mouth, but never fully touching your lips. When he feels your grip slightly tighten on his collar, he pulls back to look into your eyes, his face inches from yours. An instinctive pout forms on your lips, an almost inaudible whimper escaping your lips. 

Seungmin has his signature smirk on, “What? You told me not to mess up your makeup.” 

You playfully hit his chest, “You started it.” 

You move to step back but he pulls you flush against him, his arm wrapping around your waist, “So let me finish it.” He whispers, closing the gap between you. His lips finally lock with yours, less gentle than before. Your lips move against each other in tandem, the kiss getting deeper with each passing moment. He can feel your lipstick transferring to him, but couldn’t care less. Instead, he pushes deeper, likely messing it up more. Your hands slide up the back of his neck to intertwine with his hair, eliciting a slight groan from him. You smile against his lips, knowing the hold you have on him. He knows it too and wouldn’t have it any other way. You pull back to lean your forehead on his, both of you out of breath. 

You let out a small laugh, “What is up with you today?” 

“You’re so gorgeous, I just can’t seem to think straight.” The raw honesty in his voice makes your chest tighten. Seungmin is not one to give unnecessary compliments. For him to so honestly tell you that, he must really mean it. 

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” Despite your teasing words, you have the most genuine smile across your lips. 

You both sit there, neither one of you wanting to break this intimate moment. Suddenly, Seungmin’s phone starts buzzing. He doesn’t move to answer it. 

“You should probably answer that.” 

“Don’t wanna.” 

You laugh, “Don’t care.” 

He rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone to see a bunch of texts from the boys. 

Chan: Are you coming?

Chan: You’re gonna be late.

Minho: Han is here before you, that’s a bad sign.

Han: Hey! I’m not normally late.

Hyunjin: Uh…yeah you are

Felix: You can’t talk much. You run late all the time

Chan: Seungmin??? Hello?

Jeongin: Is Y/N coming? It’s not like her to be late. Did something happen?

Minho: They got distracted 😏

Felix: Not in front of my maknae 😭

Hyunjin : I.N. cover your ears! 

Chan: Seriously, Seungmin. You better get a move on or I’m gonna have to send out a search party

Changbin: I’ve got SWAT on speed dial ready to go. 

The chat continues to blow up with questions and shenanigans. Seungmin just rolls his eyes and puts it on mute. 

“We should get going.” You try to step back but he doesn’t loosen his hold. 

“What if we just stayed here?” 

“Chan would kill you.”

“Who cares about that old man?”

You glare at him, “Don’t give him any more grey hairs than he needs. Plus it’s not like you to be late.”

“It’s not my fault you distracted me.” 

You cock an eyebrow at him, “Is that what I am? A distraction?”

He smirks, placing another quick kiss to your lips, “I like getting distracted.” 

He goes to kiss you again, but you block him with your hand. “Okay lover boy, we need to go.” 

“We don’t need to.” 

“Yes, we do. Because you already announced that I would be with you and I don’t want people thinking I’m some she-devil that makes you late or keeps you from events.” 

He rolls his eyes, knowing you’re right. “Fine, I guess we can go for a little bit.” He finally loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t remove his arm from around your waist. 

As you drive over, you go to fix your lipstick that he mostly removed. 

“I wouldn’t fix that.” Seungmin says.

You side eye him, “And why is that?” 

“Because I’ll just mess it up again.” He smirks, eyes never leaving the road. 

“Kim Seungmin! You better behave yourself tonight.” 

“I can’t promise anything.” 

You feel your cheeks heat up at his blatant flirting. The rest of the night goes a lot like that. His hand constantly around your waist or holding yours. Him continually whispering flirty comments that make it look like you are wearing more blush than you are. He doesn’t kiss you quite as much, but if you look close enough, it’s obvious that you both have the same lip color, despite you having makeup on. The entire night, Seungmin forgets about networking or holding conversations. Instead his entire attention is tunnel visioned onto one thing: you. 

Jeongin:

You and Jeongin have been dating for a few months and things are starting to settle into a rhythm. You’ll visit him at work, usually bringing coffee. He makes sure you have a date, bare minimum once a week. You often spend time together curled up on one of your couches watching some random movie together. Usually you end up at his dorm, but today you decided to spend time at your apartment. He had been over a few times, but hasn’t spent long periods of time there. As Jeongin sits in his car in the parking lot, he gets a text from you. 

Y/N: Rough day at work. Running late. Spare key is under the plant if you want to let yourself in. 

He clicks his phone shut, deciding it’s probably better to be in an apartment than a car. Don’t want someone to accidentally walk by and see him. He pulls his hat lower and makes his way up to your apartment. Under your dying house plant, a small key sits right where you said it would. The metal feels cold from the early winter air and suddenly the key feels very heavy, Jeongin realizing the weight of this moment. He is entering your apartment, with his own key, while you are not home. This isn’t some neutral hangout spot, this is your home and you feel comfortable enough to let him in without you there. Jeongin swallows back the heavy feeling as he unlocks the door. Stepping in, it’s quieter than usual. Most of the lights are off except a small lamp you always leave on. He slips off his shoes and pads around your house, the familiar space suddenly feeling totally different. His footsteps echo off the hard floor into your empty apartment. His phone buzzes again, causing him to jump a little. 

Y/N: Would mind starting a pot of coffee? I could really use some after the day I just had. The machine is in the kitchen, coffee grounds next to it. Should be fairly self-explanatory. Thanks love 😘

Jeongin immediately walks into the kitchen to make you a pot of coffee as if it’s life or death. You have clearly had a bad day and he was going to do anything he could to make it better. He carefully measures out the coffee grounds and water, hitting the start button on the machine when the soft sound of keys jingling is heard. 

“I’m back!” He hears you call from the front door. Jeongin peaks around the corner, his signature dimpled smile spreads as soon as he sees you. “Oh good, you found the key.” You slip off your shoes and walk over to him. As you get closer, the smell of coffee hits you, “Mmmm, you started coffee. Thank you so much.” You practically melt as you throw your arms around him. “You’re the best.” Your words are muffled against his chest. 

“No problem.” He kisses the top of your head, causing a fraction of the tension to release in your shoulders. 

You pull back to look up at him, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but do you care if I take a quick shower? I just feel so heavy and want to be warm and cozy.”

His thumb moves to rub gently over your cheek. He can see the exhaustion hanging off of you, “Of course you can. I’ll be waiting out here. Take your time.” 

You give him a quick thank you kiss and run off to the bathroom to shower and change really quick. Jeongin moves to settle on your couch. 

You speed shower and wash your face. You throw on some clothes, one of which happens to be his hoodie and go back out to the living room. “Sorry that took me so long, but it feels nice to be free.” You smile, stretching your arms upwards attempting to release some of the tension. You turn to Jeongin on the couch to see him staring at you, frozen. “Innie?” You step forward, but only his eyes move, following you. “Love, are you okay?”  

Jeongin sits there, frozen. It all hits him at once, how domestic this all feels. Him entering by himself, making you coffee, waiting for you to get home from work. And now seeing you fresh showered and bare-faced wearing one of his hoodies. “I…I—you…” He stammers. 

“Are you good? Did you have a stroke or something?” You squint your eyes, confused. 

He gestures vaguely to you, trying to make a comprehensive sentence, but random words and syllables just keep coming out. 

“Jeongin, breathe.” You take a deep breath, him following suit. “There you go. What are you wanting to say?” 

He points to your face and stammers, “Pretty.” 

…

You break out into a fit of laughter. Jeongin’s lips quirk up ever so slightly into a smile at the sound of your laugh. He tries to speak again, “Your face.” 

You look at him, trying to talk through laughs. “I know what you meant. It was just a funny way of saying it.” 

A small pout sits on his lips, making him infinitely cuter than usual. You lean forward to place a quick kiss on it. “Thank you, but I don’t know why you think I’m pretty right. I’m in baggy clothes, have messy hair and no makeup. 

“So?”

“So, I look weird right now. I’m not dressed up for anything.”

Jeongin’s brain finally starts booting up again. The sight of walking into the room looking so comfortable made him realize how in love he is with you. He wants to see that everyday. He wants to wake up next to you and share his space and life with you. “I think you look perfect.” He forms a full sentence, this time flustering you. 

“Shut up,” You mumble lightly hitting his chest. 

“Never,” He pulls you in to kiss you, his lips soft against yours. He can taste the faint scent of your face wash lingering on your lips. Your hands clutch the front of his shirt tighter, leaning further into him. His kiss is soft and reverent, as if he is trying to tell you with every breath, every movement, that he thinks you are truly beautiful. He pulls back and leans his forehead on yours, “I like this look on you.” 

You huff a laugh, “The one that looks like I just woke up?”

“Especially that one because it’s domestic, it’s real. It’s just you. Thank you for sharing the big and the small with me. I’ll cherish it for forever.” He pecks a small kiss on your nose, “I love you.” 

gamer!boy felix, whose first impression on you was wildly different than expected. you had heard about him from a few others, and expected the typical gamer boy type. shy or cocky, rude or uptight, greasy or unhygienic. 

gamer!boy felix who laughed at a joke you made, flashing his killer smile and you were hooked.

gamer!boy felix who, in true gamer fashion, gave you his discord instead of his number. and you had rushed home to download and sign up for it.

gamer!boy felix who had no idea you went home to research multiplayer games to play with him. 

gamer!boy felix, whose voice was 10x deeper than you remember through the microphone. you were glad it was just a voice call and he couldn't see the way you clenched your thighs.

gamer!boy felix, who would make you lose track of time and you would stay up late talking and gaming and losing sleep.

gamer!boy felix who found out you didn't know how to play half the things you were playing.

gamer!boy felix who insisted he needed to teach you in person. 

gamer!boy felix who found every excuse to touch you. knees brushing yours, hands resting on top of yours and guiding them, teaching you the controls.

gamer!boy felix who found out how much his voice turned you on and couldn't stop teasing you about it.

gamer!boy felix who used it to get you into his bed. LED lights lining his room and glowing purple as he slowly breaks you on his tongue.

gamer!boy felix who was far more dominant than you expected

gamer!boy felix who was also a pathetic, whiny sub.

gamer!boy felix who, when you were grinding on his lap while he sat in his gamer chair, a save screen burning into his monitor, blurted out an 'i love you' as you slammed down onto him.

gamer!boy felix did really think he was dreaming when you said it back, and had to ask you again and again for weeks before it finally clicked for him.

gamer!boy felix doesn't ask for much, but you know he forgets to eat when he's locked in, so you bring him snacks and hand feed him to be close.

gamer!boy felix who feels terrible that you have to wait on him that he always makes it up to you.

gamer!boy felix's gameplay never suffered, even when you were perched on his lap. he would insist most of the time, because he hated when you were laid on his bed without him. his compromise was curling you into his lap while he games.

gamer!boy felix never stretched his hands until they were cramping, but has since started because you always remind him.

gamer!boy felix who started streaming casually and has since blown up.

his fans were bummed when they found out that gamer!boy felix was taken. but he shut it down quickly, and they all switched gears into admiring how much he loves you

gamer!boy felix had rewired the way you think about gamerboys in general. because he was so kind and attentive. 

gamer!boy felix would never yell or get angry at games. no, instead, he always took his frustrations out on you.

gamer!boy felix who would groan apologises into your ear. "i'm so sorry baby... but i needed this... fuck i needed this... just lay there all pretty okay angel? lixie'll be done soon baby i promise."

gamer!boy felix always made sure that when he was done, you finished twice as hard.

gamer!boy felix who bought you a pc with his streaming money and set it up right next to his.

gamer!boy felix who introduced you to cozy games and insisted you play stardew valley together so you could get married on there.

gamer!boy felix who, first and foremost will always be your loverboy boyfriend.

all posts taglist:

@lizal1cious @inmyfelixera @fallicarusfall @ryvannanightshade-kpop @skteez101 @theclassbookworm @bahngarang @sleepykittycx @max-1404 @angelreblogarchive @luvvvivi @bee-gremlin @seungminimpossible @thepoeticpurplepotato @puckmaidens @brekkers-whore @stayyverse @ellelabelle @stay-tiny-things @brookesmultifandomhell @theartisticlibrarian @simpingshit24 @certainstarfishmiracle @1-aria-1 @written-by-music @astrayapple @rainierii @Kpopdiva89 @ncityswrld

skz taglist:

@kloversung @ebnabi @bekindtourself @xallyouneedislovexx @myrkhive @geni-627 @hogwartsstar @bsk-brn @hyunjinniemylove @beanisdeadman @imnotsupposedtobedoingthis

he lovessss your style

lowkey likes when you dress him up more grungey and with thrifted items

he feels so cool

he likes the usual alternative / romantic / casual styles he goes for but the grunge really does something to him

he really likes dancing in baggy jeans as well, its like hairography but with pants

he likes personalizing random pieces with you

like putting on patches and painting and sewing and making items unique and one of a kind

it makes them so much cooler too

he personalizes a lot of clothes for you as gifts (birthday, valentines, winter holidays)

he lowkey brags about how cool you are

he shows off pictures of you all the time like "look how cool my partner is!!!"

also loves going thrifting with you

for literally anything

he gets sooo into thrifting

he'll never go to a store for anything other than essentials / food again

he finds so many cool pieces not only for himself, but you too

he'll find something and rush to you like "look what I found! you like it?"

if you wear / do makeup... shit he loves it

hes more into the soft / natural / clean look but he will not refuse to try grungey makeup

aka smudged eyeliner

he seems like hed like it

he seems like the type of person to just stare into people's eyes... hed stare into yours for hours man