𝓦𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓸 𝓑𝓐𝓓

“God, you’re so greedy,” he growls between your mouths, his hands making quick work of the thin material of your garments, reeling in some of his self control to stop himself from tearing them right off you. His large hands work with a frantic, almost needy lack of coordination, leaving your clothes in a heap on the floor. His eyes don't know where to look, flickering from your breasts down to cunt, watching as he squeeze your thighs together.

Varka looks ruined from the mere sight of you, lashes fluttering, his pupils blown out wide, almost completely swallowing the blue of his irises. Without a warning he hooks his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up like you weigh nothing as he takes three long strides towards the wooden tactical table nudged in the corner of his tent. Maps and inkwells scatter and tumble onto the floor as he clears it, pressing you down against it with a heavy huff. His breathing is ragged and you can tell his self control is slipping from his grasp. He shoves your legs wide, his knee forcing it's way between your thighs to keep you spread open for him, groaning when he catches sight of your glistening cunt clenching around nothing.

“Look at you, so needy,” he murmurs, his words rough against his throat. Varka makes quick work of his belt buckle and shoves his pants down just far enough so he can reach into his boxers and take out his cock. He leans over you, letting you sling your arms around his broad and muscled shoulders as he nudges his cock—swollen, thick, and glistening with a needy bead of precum at the head — against your entrance, his entire frame trembling with the effort to not simply lose control right then and there.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he lets out a hoarse groan. You've got nowhere to go, forced to remain pliant in his hold as he glides his cock through your folds, letting your wetness coat him. He's huge, hard and aching, the head of his cock throbbing each time he watches your clit.

"Fuck," he mutters, squeezing his eyes shut. "You and this goddamn cunt."

His breath is a hot, humid exhale against your ear, smelling of woodsmoke and the sweetness of the wine you shared earlier. Every muscle in his massive frame is coiled like a spring, his abs and biceps rippling with a sharp, involuntary force that he can't seem to throttle.

"Just the tip," you gasp when you feel him nudging at your entrance, your fingers digging into the thick muscle of his shoulders. "Varka, please—just the tip."

He lets out something that doesn't even sound remotely close to an apology, but rather a sharp, guttural moan that rumbles from deep in his chest, sounding more like pain than pleasure. He’s pussy-drunk and he hasn't even tucked you yet, but the feeling of your warm cunt clenching around the tip of his cock already has him looking ruined and desperate. The sight of your pussy —wet, swollen, and glistening under the lantern light with a mixture of your arousal and his —is a drug that has stripped him of his patience and pride.

"I can't," he whimpers against your skin as his hips rut forward. "God, you're so fucking beautiful, I—I can't stop."

He tries to listen. He tries to control himself. He really does. For a heartbeat, he just breathes you in—the scent of your skin, the salt of your sweat, and the heavy, greedy scent of need pouring off of both of your bodies. But then you clench around just the tip of him, a soft, fluttering invitation, and Varka finally loses the war.

His hips jolt forward with a sudden sharp jerk. He doesn't just push inside, he buries himself, the entirety of his massive, rigid length driving home in one long, devastating stroke that positively knocks the air that his mouth once stolen right from your lungs. The table groans and slides an inch across the dirt floor under the sheer force of his thrust.

"Varka, ngh!"

"Fuck—fuck, I'm sorry," he nearly sobs, his face twisting in pleasure as he feels your walls clench and stretch to accommodate him. You're warmer than he remembers, tight and snug around him, your cunt drooling, making a mess of the table beneath you. He’s deep, deeper than he should be, his balls grinding against you as he fills you past the point of saturation. "You're so tight, baby—you're taking me so fucking well, I—"

He starts to move, his rhythm messy and frantic. He’s devouring you, mind, body and soul — his mouth finding yours again in a searing kiss, ensuring that every one of your moans land right on his tongue as you sob out your need. He can feel you leaking down the length of him, soaking the table, making a mess and it fills him with a jostle of pride knowing he was the only man who could get you this wet and needy. Every pulse of your pussy is another nail in his coffin, another reason for him to lose his mind.

"Look at me," he growls when your head falls back with a particularly loud moan, his voice a wrecked octave that barely scrapes past his throat as his hips continue to pat pat pat, driving his cock into you. "Do you want the whole camp to hear us? Want to wake up my soldiers and have them realize you're getting fucked nice and dirty?"

You vigorously shake your head, your nails dragging down the massive expansive of his back, trying to grasp at anything to keep you grounded as Varka fucks you. It's nasty and mean and sweaty but you wouldn't want it any other way. Two thick digits circle your lips before he pushes them inside, pressing down on your tongue.

"Attagirl."

You had all the reasons to trust Seungmin. He’s been nothing but a loving boyfriend for you these past months, and you wouldn’t ask for anything more. Unlike any of the other men you’ve tried to be with, he was understanding that you were a virgin. The minute he brushed it off when you told him and didn’t make a big spectacle of it, you sighed in relief. He never pushed you whenever you came over to his apartment and there was heavy petting involved. He always let you take everything at your own pace. 

Tonight was no different than any date night you guys had. He took you out to get dinner, and you guys lay on the couch tangled in one another as the movie played on the TV. The plot was lost on you the minute you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. The way his bangs were parted, exposing his forehead, had you hooked. You weren’t subtle at all in the way you were ogling him, and it didn’t take long for him to see your stares in his peripheral vision. He didn’t hesitate to scoop you up in his lap and start to kiss you. The feeling of his warm lips against yours had you sighing happily as you kissed him back. You wrapped your arms around his neck and ground your hips against his for some friction. 

The both of you had swollen lips with the way you two kissed with fervor and were gently nibbling at each other. You were content with this. There was always a time in the future for more, but you weren’t in a rush. You were ready to roll off of Seungmin’s hips and tuck yourself into his side for cuddles, but Seungmin wasn’t ready to let you go. His chest was rising and falling fast as he panted. “Baby, let’s just go a little further tonight, hm? We can do just the tip.” Your face flushed at the implications of what he was saying. “I—I don’t know if I’m ready for that, Minnie.” “Don’t worry, baby, you’re in good hands. I’ll guide you every step of the way.” His hips bucked slightly against your core, and you knew he could just tell how wet you were.” 

With shaky hands you slipped off your pants and your underwear. Seungmin also stood up and shucked off his pants with a newfound excitement. “C’mere, baby, just lay down on the couch for me, okay?” He sounded so gentle with you, and he wrapped his arms around your waist and guided you onto the couch. “Have you ever fingered yourself?” You shook your head no, and Seungmin just smirked. “Alright, baby, I’m going to slip a finger in you, and you tell me how that feels, okay?” You nodded and watched his hand as it slipped between your plush thighs. You spread your legs for him, and he slowly plunged his finger into your hole. “O-oh my god.” The pressure you felt inside of you felt so good already.

Seungmin pumped his finger inside of you languidly, and your back was already arching off of the couch. All you could focus on was the sound of how wet you were. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Do you think you could take another finger? I’ll go just as slow.” You were already panting for air but agreed. Once he heard your confirmation, you felt him push another finger inside, and you could help but gasp at the intrusion. “How are you feeling, baby?” “I feel s-so good, Minnie. So, so good.” Seungmin chuckled at your response. This spurred him on to make you feel even better. He picked up the pace, and this had you squirming and moaning out in pleasure. “You’re doing great, baby.” The praise had your head feeling fuzzy on top of the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing. 

Seungmin was unrelenting at the pace he held while fingering your cunt, and you knew you were about to orgasm. You had never felt this strength in an orgasm before, though. This couldn’t compare in the slightest to when you rubbed your clit in the confines of your bedroom. Seungmin felt your cunt tightening around his fingers and groaned. “Is my baby about to cum, hm? Let it all out; I can feel how close you are, love.” There were stars behind your eyelids as you squeezed them shut. Your moans were akin to screams as you came, and your thighs trembled as Seungmin kept fingering you through your orgasm. You snapped your legs shut at the overstimulation, but Seungmin was quick to spread them back open. “Oh, baby, you did amazing. Tell me how you’re feeling.” You were dizzy; you don’t think it was possible for you to form a coherent sentence. Words felt thick in your throat as you tried to express how good you felt. Everything felt like it was moving so fast, but you weren’t ready to stop.

“I feel great, Seungmin; let's keep going.” His smile was wide as he heard those words. He slotted himself between your legs, and seeing him hold his cock had you shaking in anticipation. To say the least, he was big. “Minnie, I don’t think you’re going to fit.” Your words trembled. “Don’t worry, baby, it's just the tip. And like I said, you’re in good hands; I’ll take real good care of you.” Seungmin slid closer to you, and you felt his tip right at your entrance, and you braced for the intrusion. “You have to breathe for me, baby, and relax.” He rubbed your thigh, and you tried your best to relax your body and mind. His tip breached inside of you, and the both of you groaned in pleasure. “See, it’s not so bad. Nothing to be worried about.” You made eye contact with him, and he winked. He steadily pumped himself in and out of you, but this still wasn’t enough for Seungmin. He was drunk off of the pleasure he felt as your pussy contracted around the head of his cock, and he was yearning to know how you feel around the full length of him.

 He slid himself about halfway into your cunt, and you gripped onto his forearm trying to steady yourself at the sudden penetration. “S-seungmin!” His eyes were screwed shut as he tried to stop himself from cumming right then and there from how tight you were. “S-sorry, baby, you felt so good I couldn’t help myself. It’s okay, we're both going to feel great; just trust me.” He tried his best to rein in his thrusts and keep it at a slow pace, but he just needed to wreck you. He knew if he destroyed you on his cock tonight, he would ruin you for anyone else. Just the thought of having you addicted to him just had him fucking into you with a pace that would have anyone begging for mercy.

: ̗̀➛ warnings: harddom!seungmin, sub!reader, consented infidelity, oral sex (m. receiving), unprotected sex, hair pulling, exhibitionism, degradation (again ik) threesome themes, getting caught

you knocked once.

the door opened before your knuckles even pulled back.

and there he was.

felix stood in the doorway wearing a white silk button-up that clung to his chest like shimmered faintly every time he moved. the top two buttons were undone and his hair was swept back in that effortlessly perfect way that made you want to scream into a pillow. or maybe into his pillow.

“hi,” he said, smile soft and sunshine-warm.

you smiled so fast it hurt. “hi.”

and then you kissed him.

quick, light, full of something you were trying very hard to pretend wasn’t giddy joy. his hand found your waist the way it always did—steady, reassuring, like he couldn’t help pulling you in closer. you let him.

“i missed you,” you murmured against his cheek.

“you saw me yesterday.”

“and?”

felix grinned. “i missed you too.”

he stepped aside so you could slip inside, your hand lingering in his for just a second longer than necessary. the apartment was warm and smelled faintly like bergamot and something earthy—his body wash, maybe. the air settled around you like a hug.

normally, he’d pick you up for dates. always showing up at your door, walking you to the car like he was escorting you to prom. but tonight’s dinner spot was closer to his place than yours, so it made more sense for you to come here.

but you weren’t mad about it.

there was something about walking into his space that made you feel like you belonged there. like your toothbrush could be in his cup and your hoodie could be on his chair and it wouldn’t be weird at all.

“you look beautiful, angel,” felix said, his voice soft in that way that always made you melt a little in the knees.

you leaned in, fingers smoothing over the front of his shirt, flattening a wrinkle that didn’t really need fixing.

“and you look handsome,” you let your palm linger over his chest.

felix leaned down and kissed the top of your head. “i’m gonna grab a few more things and then we’ll go, okay?”

you nodded as he padded down the hallway, disappearing into his room. you stayed by the door, fidgeting with your dress, a smile still ghosting across your lips—until you heard it.

a voice.

muffled, but sharp. coming from the living room.

you turned, stepping lightly until seungmin came into view—half-slouched against the edge of the couch, phone to his ear, brows drawn in that low, annoyed pinch he always wore when he was trying very hard not to care about something that was obviously bothering him.

“i told you i didn’t want that. from the beginning. don’t act surprised now.”

there was a pause. a sharp sigh.

then, “alright. goodbye.”

he hung up and stood still for a beat, shoulders rigid.

then he turned and nearly jumped when he saw you standing there.

you raised an eyebrow. “you good?”

“peachy,” he muttered, slipping his phone into the pocket of his hoodie as he stepped toward the entryway.

you tilted your head, watching him reach for his sneakers. “you’re going out?”

“apparently i'm emotionally unavailable and it's suddenly a crime to not want commitment,” seungmin said dryly, crouching down to tie his laces. “so i thought i’d go for a walk.”

you blinked. “that didn’t sound like a walk kind of phone call.”

“it’s either that or drink half a bottle of soju and regret spending that night with her.”

her?

“maybe if you stopped fucking around with people, you wouldn’t have to walk it off every time one of them gets feelings.” you said, leaning against the wall with a shit-eating grin. 

he stood up slowly, brushing imaginary lint from his hoodie. “is there a reason you’re always in my business?”

“is there a reason your business is always messy?”

just as he was about to reply, felix came around the corner, adjusting the watch on his wrist.

“ready to go, love?” he said, stepping beside you.

“she’s bullying me,” seungmin announced, pulling his coat on.

“sorry,” you teased.

he rolled his eyes but—there it was—that barely-there smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “i’ll live,” he muttered, zipping his coat halfway up. 

as you stepped into your shoes, felix held the door open for both you and seungmin, who’d shrugged into his coat and was now pulling his hood up.

felix locked the door behind the three of you. “you going far?” he said out loud to seungmin.

“just around,” seungmin said as he paused at the edge of the sidewalk and shoved his hands into his pockets. “have a good night, you two.”

felix gave him a warm nod. “bye, min.”

you lingered for a second, eyes meeting seungmin’s just as he glanced at you. you watched him for a beat, the curve of his shoulders as he turned away to walk. he didn’t look back.

felix’s fingers slipped between yours.

you turned to him, and without a word, he lifted his eyebrows slightly.

shall we?

you smiled, breath curling in the cold air. 

“we shall.”

clink.

your glasses touched with a soft chime, the candlelight bouncing off the rims and catching in felix’s eyes like glittering dusk. you took a sip of your wine—warm, smooth, just sharp enough to wake your cheeks with a pleasant burn—then set your glass down and reached across the table for his hand.

felix didn’t hesitate. his fingers curled around yours instantly, thumb brushing soft circles into your skin like he’d been waiting all night to touch you properly. you turned his hand gently, letting your lips graze over his knuckles.

you watched his hands, the careful way he moved, the way he always did everything with intention. his rings caught the candlelight again, the silver warm with reflected gold.

and maybe it was the wine.

or the fact that he hadn’t let go of your hand yet.

but your mind wandered—back to that night. that split-second where he paused, where his hands tightened on your hips and everything shifted. the tension that flared the moment seungmin slipped into the room—not physically, but in suggestion, in the space between you and felix.

you still didn’t know what kind of tension it was. good or bad. sharp with jealousy, or with something darker. felix lived in that gray space—between obsession and ownership, between fear and fascination with what you’d do next.

all you knew was that it broke him—and then made him touch you like he’d never get the chance again. the memory flickered through you like heat. the way felix had grabbed your wrists, the way his breath had gone rough and uneven, the way his voice had dropped.

your thighs pressed together under the table, and you shifted in your seat like that might help. it didn’t.

“felix,” you said quietly.

he looked up instantly.

“yes, love?” he asked, voice soft, thumb still stroking yours.

you opened your mouth, but you weren’t sure what you meant to say. his gaze stayed on you, calm and kind, but his fingers didn’t stop moving—small, deliberate circles across the back of your hand, tracing the place your pulse was skipping under your skin.

you hesitated. “does it bother you?”

his expression shifted—barely. 

“what?” he said gently, like he hadn’t heard you right. 

you glanced down at your joined hands, your voice barely above the soft clink of cutlery and the low hum of conversation around you.

“i just mean… seungmin. and i know we bicker.” you swallowed. “i just… i don’t know. i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it after that night with you.”

there. you said it.

not the full thing. not the part where his name had been on your lips at the wrong moment, or the way seungmin’s eyes lingered when they shouldn’t.

you ran your thumb along the side of his, nervously.

“i don’t know if you seemed bothered by it,” you said quietly. “or if you were just talking about seungmin in the moment. as part of the, you know… act.”

felix didn’t speak.

his thumb stilled.

and your heart sank just a little.

“but just so you know, seungmin and i spoke to each other the next morning.” you added quickly. “trust me, there is nothing you should be worried about. he told me that himself.”

felix stayed silent.

too silent.

his eyes didn’t leave yours, but he didn’t nod. didn’t speak.

all of the sudden, he let out a soft laugh under his breath.

you looked up fast. “why are you laughing?”

he leaned in a little, lips tilted in that warm smile—but his eyes were still on you like he was reading a book only he understood.

“y/n.”

“mhm?”

his eyes searched yours. then finally—

“you know i have every reason to be worried, right?”

your breath hitched, but he shook his head, just once.

“it’s okay,” he said softly. “i’m not mad.” he never is.

he let his thumb drag across your knuckles again, slow and deliberate. 

“but you have to stop pretending,” felix murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “that seungmin doesn’t want you.”

your heart stumbled. “what?”

felix looked up at you again, this time with a softness that hurt more than it helped.

“y/n,” he said, patient but firm. “come on.”

you blinked, hard. “he doesn’t,” you said, maybe too fast. “seungmin doesn’t want people. you’ve seen him—he barely tolerates women unless they’re his mom or his sister.”

“or you.” felix added.

you stared at him, throat tight. “this is crazy.”

felix still didn’t flinch.

he just watched you.

and you hated that part of you—the smallest, traitorous part—that wasn’t sure if you were trying to convince him. or yourself.

his expression didn’t change. “is it?”

you sighed, fingers curling tighter around his. “look. i’ll admit there’s something between us. okay? a pull, maybe. i don’t know. but seungmin? he’d never admit that. not to me, not to you, not to anyone. he doesn’t do that.”

felix’s smile returned then—soft, but unreadable. “doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

“felix,” you said gently, “he actively looks like he wants to jump into traffic when i talk to him.”

his voice was quiet, but too clear. “and he also actively looks at you like he wants to fuck you.”

your eyes widened. your whole body jerked slightly, not from shock at the statement—but from how casually he’d said it.

you immediately looked around the restaurant. candlelit tables. a couple two seats over. someone’s mom having a birthday behind you. there are too many people in this room for him to talk like that. you leaned in fast. 

“he’s too blunt,” you said. “also stubborn. i could show up naked and he’d probably throw a blanket at me and tell me to get therapy.”

felix tilted his head. “wanna bet?”

the word made something stutter in your chest.

your mind pulled back—just for a second—flashing through another bet. another night. the morning after. seungmin sliding sixty bucks across the counter.

your heart skipped. “what kind of bet?”

felix sat back slightly, finally releasing your hand only to reach for his wine. he took a slow sip, then set the glass down with precision.

“you push. just a little. if he cracks, i win.”

you stared. “and if he doesn’t?”

“then you were right,” he said simply. “and i’ll never bring it up again. either way, you’ll still get what you want. you wouldn’t mind the prize of losing either.”

your brow creased. “which is…?”

felix’s thumb brushed slow over your knuckles. his gaze didn’t waver.

“to fuck him.”

your heart lurched so hard you swore the wine in your glass rippled. your mouth opened—some reflexive denial hanging on the tip of your tongue—but nothing came out.

you went silent.

felix watched you. not smug. just certain.

“i know it,” he said gently. “you won’t say it. you won’t even admit it to yourself. but it’s there. i see it, angel.”

your skin was suddenly hot. you never wanted to admit it fully—not out loud, not yet. but the second felix had said it, something inside you had twisted tight, like your body had been holding the truth longer than your mouth could.

you wanted to see seungmin lose control. just once. wanted to know how he’d sound when he cracked. wanted to know how far felix would let this go.

you already knew the answer. as far as you wanted. as far as you needed. because felix would never say no.

he leaned in closer, voice barely above the ambient hum of the restaurant.

“and you know i’ll give you anything you want,” he murmured. “like always. right?”

you swallowed.

hard.

your brows pulled together. “what do you get out of it?”

felix tilted his head, fingers brushing gently over the top of your hand.

“seeing you happy.”

he meant it. that was the problem. he always did.

“how can you be okay with this?” you asked finally. it came out smaller than you meant it to.

felix didn’t answer right away.

instead, he reached across the table and gently took both of your hands in his, his thumbs brushing over your skin like it was delicate, precious, breakable.

“angel,” he said, voice low, “look at me.”

you did.

“i trust you,” he said. “so much.”

your throat tightened.

“whatever happens,” he continued, “whatever this is, i trust you.”

his hands squeezed yours gently, like he could feel the shake in your bones even if you weren’t showing it.

you really loved him.

it hit you all over again, crashing through your ribs like a wave—how good he was, how much he gave without ever asking for anything in return. how he held you like you were the only person in the room, even when you were confessing something that should’ve ruined everything.

“i love you,” you whispered, because there was nothing else left to say. “you can trust me.”

felix smiled, eyes softening, voice barely above a breath.

“i know,” he said. “i love you too.”

then, with a small smile, you reached for your glass. “it’s settled.”

felix followed, his fingers brushing yours as he lifted his.

a soft clink echoed between you.

that evening, after the bet was sealed, you and felix spent the rest of dinner going over the rules. his terms were thoughtful, complex—laid out like a strategy. seungmin’s bet had been simple. blunt. a single dare and a deadline.

exactly like the two of them.

felix thought in layers. seungmin struck straight at the center.

sixty bucks was on the line—same amount as last time, because felix was sentimental like that. or maybe he just liked symmetry. 

the rule was that once seungmin kisses you, it’s over.

that was the clear marker. if seungmin’s mouth touched yours with intention, felix won.

you had three days to get seungmin to crack.

three days to find out if felix was right.

the next day, you were at dance practice, watching felix from the couch like you always did when you had a free hour and he didn’t.

he loved it when you were there. said it made him move cleaner. said it made the counts feel softer. you weren’t sure about all that, but you knew his eyes flicked to you between sets.

after an hour of relentless choreography, felix finally stepped off the floor, tugging his hoodie off his head and shaking out his hair.

he slumped onto the couch beside you with a dramatic sigh and dropped his head back against the cushion, breathing hard, chest rising under the thin fabric of his shirt.

“dead,” he muttered.

you turned toward him, trying not to be affected by the way his hair clung to his forehead, the way his collar was stretched slightly, the way his entire existence was just too much up close.

“you look it,” you said, but your voice was softer than you meant it to be.

felix cracked one eye open. “compliment me better.”

“you look hot,” you replied, immediate. then, with a smile: “literally.”

he smiled. “that’ll do.”

you reached for his hand, and he let you take it, fingers still warm and damp from practice. he looked ruined in the best way—sweaty, flushed, glowing under the dim studio lights.

felix laced his fingers with yours, still breathless but smiling, his eyes glittering beneath the studio lights.

“you ready?” he asked, voice low.

your gaze flicked—just for a second—toward the door.

that had been the plan. after his practice, you’d head down the hall. seungmin’s favourite studio was three doors over.

he squeezed your hand. “you still wanna do this?”

you looked at him. 

at the flush in his cheeks. the sweat on his temple. the way he was holding you like you weren’t about to walk away from him for another guy—for a bet. and still, he smiled like he wasn’t scared.

you nodded. “yeah.”

felix grinned, eyes crinkling as he leaned in and pressed a slow, sweet kiss to your mouth. his thumb brushed against your jaw like he was memorizing it.

“for luck,” he murmured, lips still against yours.

you kissed him one last time—gentle, lingering—and then stood up.

your heart was already racing as you opened the door. you slipped out into the hallway, trying not to let your nerves catch up with you.

the quiet between studios was broken only by the occasional echo of music behind thick doors and the soft hum of air conditioning overhead. you walked slowly—past mirrored practice rooms, dim rehearsal spaces—until you found it.

the recording studio.

the light above the door was red. he was in there.

you hesitated for half a second, then raised your hand and knocked. just twice. soft.

the light flicked off. a shuffle of movement. then the door cracked open, and there he was.

hoodie sleeves shoved up, hair a little messy, earbuds still dangling around his neck. he looked flushed in that way he always did when he was mid-verse—sharp focus still clinging to his features.

the second he saw you, his entire body stilled.

“oh no,” he said teasingly, as he lifted his head up.

you smiled. cheeky. 

“hi, seungmin.”

he stared at you like you were a walking hazard.

“what do you want?”

you slipped past him without answering, stepping into the small recording space like you owned it. warm lights. mic still set up. monitor screen still active. his voice was probably still ringing in the headphones he’d dropped on the chair.

“felix is too busy right now,” you said, casually wandering over to the console. you didn’t look at him when you said it—just ran your fingers lightly along the edge of the soundboard. “so i thought i’d come by.”

seungmin raised an eyebrow, still standing near the door like he hadn’t decided if he was letting this happen.

“does he know you’re here?” he asked.

you glanced over your shoulder. “does it matter?”

that earned a reaction. he let out a quiet breath—something between a laugh and a scoff—and looked away, smiling to himself like he couldn’t help it.

“i can leave,” you said, feigning politeness. “if you’re busy too.”

you already knew what the answer would be. he’d never tell you to leave. not when he didn’t know what you were doing. not when he wanted to know.

“you’re fine here,” he said after a beat, tone unreadable.

you nodded once and walked toward the small couch in the corner, dropping into it and tucking your legs up underneath you.

seungmin had settled in by the console again, clicking through takes with practiced indifference. his eyes flicked to the screen, then to the levels, then—briefly—to you.

your voice was calm when you asked, “what are you working on?”

seungmin didn’t look up from the monitor. “something you wouldn’t understand.”

the words were clipped, automatic, like muscle memory.

he waited for it—the jab, the comeback. the usual volley you always threw back with precision. his lips even curled slightly, like he was preparing for your argument.

but you didn’t bite.

you just hummed, light and easy. “still sounds good from here.”

he paused.

only for a second—but you saw it. the faint flicker of confusion that passed over his face like a shadow. his hands stilled over the keyboard. then he exhaled through his nose, trying to brush it off.

“it’s a demo,” he said, eyes fixed on the monitor again. “one of my solo things. chan and i are piecing it together soon.”

you leaned your cheek into your palm, voice still soft. “that’s cool. i didn’t know you wrote on your own.”

“don’t get too impressed,” he muttered with a tune at the end.

you smiled. “wanna play it for me?”

he stared at you for a beat longer, then clicked something on the keyboard. the track played—soft at first, then heavier. clean vocals layered over a slow beat.

you listened. 

when the first verse faded out, he clicked the spacebar and glanced at you again.

“i like it,” you said with a sweet smile. “you’re good at what you do.”

“great,” he sighed, lips twitching. “now i need to rewrite the whole thing.”

you laughed.

seungmin narrowed his eyes slightly, gaze flicking over your face like he was dissecting something. calculating. then—

“you hit your head on the way here or something?”

you blinked at him, all faux innocence. “why?”

seungmin narrowed his eyes. “because you’re being… nice.”

you tilted your head. “i’m always nice.”

“no, you’re not,” he said flatly, like it was fact. “you’re annoying and opinionated and loud.”

you tilted your head, pretending you don’t know what he’s talking about. 

“and you’re giving me those eyes,” he said flatly.

you blinked. “what eyes?”

he turned in his chair to face you more fully, elbow propped against the armrest, expression cool—almost amused.

“the ones you give felix,” he said.

your lips parted slightly. 

you blinked once. then, carefully: “i look at felix a lot of ways.”

seungmin let out a soft scoff. “you know what i’m talking about.”

for a second, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. his expression was unreadable, but his eyes stayed fixed on you. slow. intent.

“you must want something pretty bad to come here like this.” he murmured.

you hadn’t even noticed it—when he rolled closer, when the space between you shrank like it’d always meant to. but now he was there. close. you could still pretend. there was still distance. technically.

but the placement was deliberate. he was leaned back in his chair like he wasn’t doing anything at all—but his legs were spread just enough to keep you boxed in, and his gaze hadn’t flickered away once.

you glanced at the door. just for a second. just long enough to remember why you were here. seungmin’s gaze tracked yours before turning to look at you again.

then, gently, he nudged your knee with his. it was barely a touch. just pressure. but it sent a shiver straight up your spine. because seungmin didn’t touch you. not ever. not even in passing. for obvious reasons. and now he had.

his voice was quiet. low. “what is it that you want?”

you met his gaze. let the silence stretch for one breath. two.

then you leaned forward.

just a little.

just enough to close the gap that he’d left open on purpose. your fingers found the edge of his sleeve—brushed lightly against the skin of his forearm, right where it met the crook of his elbow. barely there. a whisper of a touch.

but it was enough to make him still.

“i thought it would help,” you said. “making felix snap. hearing him say those words. letting him… do those things.”

your eyes flicked up to meet his. steady. careful.

“maybe it wasn’t him i needed to hear it from.” you whispered. 

seungmin smiled. a little too calm.

he reached out and took your wrist. 

“you’re sick,” he said, voice like silk wrapped around a knife.

and then, still watching you, he slid your hand off his arm and set it down on your lap like it didn’t belong to him. like he was returning borrowed property.

“don’t do that,” you said, voice steady. “don’t act like this is nothing.”

seungmin didn’t flinch.

“you and i…” you started again, slower, willing him to look at you, to hear it the way you meant it. “there’s something here.”

he just nodded. once. small.

“i know,” he said simply.

you froze.

that wasn’t the answer you were ready for. not that easy. not that fast.

you opened your mouth—but nothing came out. because what the hell were you supposed to say to that? seungmin looked at you like he’d already made peace with it. like knowing was the problem.

and then he turned away.

“i think you should leave, y/n.”

the words landed like cold water.

your chest pulled tight. “what?”

his back was to you now, already returning to the console, like the entire conversation had just been a brief distraction between takes.

“i have a bridge to finish,” he said. 

you exhaled slowly. a soft, frustrated sound that barely made it to him.

then you stood. your feet felt heavy. you couldn’t do it. not this time.

you reached the door, hand on the knob—and paused.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, seungmin.”

he didn’t answer. even after the door shut.

the next day came slower than it should have.

not because time dragged—but because your thoughts did. through every class, every errand, every moment you found yourself alone. they looped like static.

maybe he really won’t crack.

it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

you were the one who bet against the possibility. you’d get your sixty bucks for the second time, felix would wrap his arms around you and say something like, “guess i was wrong, huh?”—and he’d mean it softly, not bitterly. you’d curl into him and pretend this whole thing didn’t matter. like it wasn’t keeping you up at night.

it wouldn’t hurt. not really..

but if it had just been about winning, you wouldn’t be thinking about the way he looked at you yesterday when you were speaking to him. you wouldn’t be remembering the way he’d leaned forward—like if he moved any closer, he might forget himself.

your phone buzzed beside you. tonight’s plan was rolling.

felix: seungmin told me he’s on his way home. you’ve got him alone for at least an hour. you got this angel.

not even five minutes later, you heard the sound of the door unlocking. the quiet creak of hinges. the soft thud of shoes meeting the floor.

your heart jumped. immediate.

you straightened on the couch, as you heard the unmistakable shuffle of seungmin’s footsteps.

then—

“y/n?”

his voice.

you turned, slow, casual. like you hadn’t been listening for it all night.

“hi,” you said, voice light. innocent.

he blinked at you from the hallway entrance. hair a little messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times. 

“you’re here,” he said flatly.

you nodded, tucking your legs a little closer into the couch. “felix said i could stay until he got back. hope that’s okay.”

“yeah,” seungmin muttered, voice low as he stepped further into the room. “it’s fine.”

he didn’t look at you. just dropped his bag near the door, kicked off his shoes, and made his way to the couch. he collapsed beside you. dropped down like gravity had yanked him too hard, head thrown back against the cushion, long legs spread carelessly in front of him.

you stayed quiet for a second as your eyes trailed his body. from the visible bulge outlined by his grey sweatpants to the thin layer of sweat on his neck. you watched the way his chest rose and fell. the way his jaw clenched. the faint crease between his brows that hadn’t eased since he walked in.

“…are you okay?” you asked.

he didn’t answer right away. just reached up and dragged a hand over his face, fingers pressing into his eyes like he could scrub out the entire day.

“no.”

you blinked. that was rare. seungmin didn’t do no. 

he didn’t do honest.

you shifted toward him slightly. “do you wanna talk about it?”

“no.”

okay, so not that honest.

you waited. let the silence stretch, let the question hang in the space like a hook. you knew he’d bite eventually.

and sure enough, a few seconds later:

“am i manipulative?” he asked, bluntly. 

you hesitated. “i… don’t think so?”

he didn’t look convinced.

“i showed up to fuck, and she started talking about feelings again. i said i didn’t want that, and she said i’d led her on.” he said. 

you stilled. the girl. the one from the phone call. the one you’d overheard him arguing with the other night.

“i said i didn’t want that from the start,” he said, sharp now. “she asked me to come over. i didn’t chase her. i never promised anything.”

his fingers flexed against his thighs, knuckles pale from tension. he was still staring at you—jaw set, eyes sharp—but something in the way his hands twitched told you he was barely holding himself together.

and maybe it was awful, maybe it made you just a little bit cruel, but he so looked good like this.

you’d always known seungmin was attractive in that quietly devastating kind of way. not the type to flaunt it. not the type to notice it. but it hit harder when he was like this—on edge, breathing hard, frustration leaking out of him in little cracks that let you see what he usually kept hidden.

he was always so composed. always in control.

but now?

now he looked like he wanted to break something. or someone.

and your stomach flipped at the thought that maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t mind being the thing he lost it on.

“you were clear. that’s not manipulative. that’s just… knowing what you want.”

he scoffed, dry and bitter. “yeah, well, apparently that makes me an asshole.”

“only to people who think they can change your mind.”

his jaw twitched. 

“i think,” you said carefully, eyes trained on the tension in his fingers, “you need someone who respects that you don’t want any strings attached.”

once he heard your words, his hands finally unclenched. then—he moved. he turned to face you fully, his upper body propped up on his arm that is behind your head.

he’s going to crack tonight.

you knew it with the kind of certainty that hit low in your stomach. he was too wound up from whatever that argument was. he hadn’t even gotten the sex he wanted, and now all that leftover tension was sitting under his skin, burning holes through his composure.

and you were right here. in front of him. saying the exact things he didn’t know he wanted to hear.

his eyes flicked down your face, landing on your mouth for just a second too long. when he looked back up, something in him had shifted. still calm—but only on the surface. below that, he was simmering. mad. worked up. and probably half-hard just from frustration alone.

“you’re good at pretending you can handle things,” he said. “but i don’t think you really know what you’re doing.”

“then show me.”

his jaw flexed, like he was trying to bite down the part of him that wanted to respond. but he didn’t pull away. didn’t call your bluff.

you reached out—slow, deliberate—and placed your hand on his chest, right over the thin fabric of his shirt. he sucked in a breath so sharp you felt it beneath your palm. his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, jaw clenched like he was trying not to let it show how much that one touch rattled him.

but it did.

you were doing something to him.

he opened his eyes again, darker now, pupils blown. his hand lifted and curled around the back of your neck, fingers warm and steady, grounding you—but also pulling you in. his gaze dropped to your lips.

then back up.

he was going to kiss you.

he leaned in—closer, closer—until your noses brushed, until you could feel the heat of his mouth hovering a breath away from yours. your lips parted. your pulse screamed.

he stopped.

“we can’t,” he muttered, low and strained.

you blinked, confusion punching through your haze. “what?”

“we can’t,” he said again, eyes locked on yours like he needed you to believe him. like he didn’t believe himself. “you’ll regret it.”

frustration surged in your chest. you could see it—he wanted this. he wanted you. he just couldn’t let himself fall first.

so you moved.

you climbed into his lap, one knee on either side of his thighs, straddling him with quiet defiance. his breath hitched immediately, hands flying to your hips like instinct.

“then stop me,” you whispered, cupping his face gently. “tell me you don’t want this.”

his eyes darted across your face, his jaw tightening again like it hurt to stay still.

“you can’t,” you added, voice barely above a breath. “because you do.”

his hands tightened just slightly on your hips, enough to make you feel the restraint buzzing beneath his skin. his gaze didn’t leave yours, but the heat in it dulled, shaded by something heavier. guilt. conflict.

“i’m not doing that to felix,” he said finally, voice low and tight. 

the words hit harder than you expected. not because he was rejecting you—but because you knew he meant it. because even like this—left frustrated, horny, with your body pressed against his—he still respected his best friend too much to cross the line.

if only he knew this was a bet made by said best friend. 

your fingers slipped from his face, settling against the base of his throat instead, your thumbs resting gently there as you searched his expression.

“what if…” you started carefully, “what if it wasn’t felix?”

his brows lifted just barely. “then you wouldn’t have to try so hard.”

you blinked.

you stared at him for a long beat. at the lips you wanted. the eyes you couldn’t read. the softness in his hands, even as he held you still. his heart was thudding beneath your palm, loud and uneven. just like yours.

“i won’t tell him,” seungmin said quietly. “this stays between us.”

“you won’t?”

he shook his head, gaze steady. “no.”

then, softer—warning:

“but if you do this again…” his hands slid just barely along your sides, almost like he couldn’t stop himself. “if you get this close again, i won’t be able to hold back.”

you were fine with that.

you had one night left.

one night before the bet ended. before sixty bucks went into your hands. before you were supposed to laugh it all off and say well, that was fun after having failed to seduce kim seungmin.

you didn’t care about the bet anymore.

you hadn’t for a while.

you wanted seungmin to crack.

tonight was your last shot.

this time, you went straight to the dorm.

you knocked once.

it was late. the kind of late where the hallway felt too quiet and your pulse was too loud in your ears. you didn’t tell felix. didn’t plan anything. just showed up.

the door creaked open.

and there he was. hair wet, still towel-draped across his shoulders. a muted blue t-shirt clinging a little at the collar, grey sweats riding low. 

seungmin’s eyes swept over you once. then again, slower. then he leaned against the frame like he was already tired of whatever this was.

“felix isn’t here,” he said flatly.

you didn’t answer right away.

he knew what this was.

“but he will be,” seungmin said eventually, voice quieter now, like he was warning you. or warning himself. “you should come back later,” 

his voice didn’t match the words. it was too soft. like a door half-closed, not locked. his eyes didn’t leave you. didn’t flick to the clock or the hallway. they just stayed on yours—dark, unreadable, and a little too steady for someone who wanted you gone.

you didn’t move.

then, without looking away, he stepped back.

you stepped in.

the air shifted the second you crossed the threshold, as if the room itself braced for impact. you heard the soft thud of the door clicking shut behind you, and you stood there—just for a moment—so close to him now it made your skin buzz.

“y/n.”

his voice was low. too low. careful in a way that made your stomach tighten.

“yeah?”

seungmin didn’t answer right away.

“does felix know you’re here?”

the same question as last time.

and before you could even open your mouth to throw up a dodge, he added—

“don’t give me that indirect shit again.”

you froze.

his eyes were on you, dark and direct, gaze locked like he’d been building to this. there was something in it that looked almost like fear—coiled under the frustration, under the sharp jaw and the tense shoulders. he looked so hot like that—torn between doing the right thing and wanting to be selfish.

you exhaled, voice small. “no.”

seungmin didn’t move. his jaw clenched.

then he nodded, slow and sharp, like he’d known the answer already and just needed you to confirm it. 

“right,” he muttered.

and then he reached for his phone.

you reacted instantly.

your hand shot out, grabbing his wrist before he could unlock the screen.

“wait.”

seungmin stilled. his thumb hovered over the button. his gaze didn’t lift. “i’m gonna call him.”

“no,” you said, fast, breath catching. “don’t.”

your fingers curled around his wrist, tight.

“i love felix,” you said suddenly.

seungmin blinked, something in his face tightening like he hadn’t expected that. like he didn’t know what you were about to do with it.

you didn’t either.

“i do,” you repeated, slower this time, like you were trying to convince yourself. “he’s good to me. sweet. kind.”

seungmin stayed quiet, but his jaw set, and you could tell he was waiting. bracing.

“but you,” you said. “i hate the way you look at me. i hate the way you talk to me like i’m a child who doesn’t know what she wants.” you took a step closer, your voice low now. “but maybe you were right.”

seungmin didn’t flinch.

“maybe i am sick,” you said. “because felix is soft and patient and perfect—and you’re not. and that’s why i’m here again.”

you were close now. 

“maybe i don’t want sweet right now,” you whispered. “maybe i need someone who can ruin me a little.”

his breath hitched.

“why do you think i enjoyed it so much,” you murmured, eyes locked on his, “when felix was mean to me that night?”

seungmin’s gaze sharpened like a blade drawn too fast.

“you think that’s something to be proud of?” seungmin said, voice low, biting.

then he stepped toward you.

once.

twice.

and you stepped back on instinct until your spine hit the wall with a soft thud. the air thinned immediately, like it couldn’t squeeze between your bodies anymore.

his eyes were burning into you now. sharp. angry. too full for someone pretending not to care.

“you’re pathetic,” he muttered. “you show up here, say you love him, say you hate me, and now you want what—pity? attention? to get fucked by the guy you can’t stop pushing?”

you didn’t flinch. just tilted your chin up, gaze steady. 

you smiled. it was the kind of smile that came from knowing exactly which wire you’d just cut, and hearing the bomb tick faster.

because seungmin had cracked.

the second his composure slipped—when the line in his jaw tightened, when his voice dropped into something raw and reckless—you knew.

you’d broken him.

and now he was right in front of you.

towering.

his chest rose and fell fast. his shoulders were tense, caging you in like he didn’t trust himself to move. his eyes were unreadable now. burned out from trying not to feel and failing anyway.

“you’re so mad at me,” you said, voice quiet but taunting. “you look at me like you hate me, but you keep getting closer and closer to me. isn’t that a little…”

you smiled, just enough to sting.

“manipulative?”

that broke something.

seungmin surged forward, his mouth crashing into yours without warning. the kiss was messy, hard, teeth clashing—and you gasped into it, breath catching in your throat as his hand tangled in your hair and pulled, just enough to make you feel it.

you’d done it.

even if you lost the sixty bucks—this was what you wanted.

him, like this.

you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, lips swollen, eyes wild, and seungmin’s hand still fisted in your hair like he wasn’t ready to let go.

felix got you what you wanted. you loved felix. 

but seungmin was here. right now. and you were past pretending that didn’t matter.

his mouth was still hovering near yours, breath ragged. you were still panting, your chest brushing his with every breath, drunk off the taste of him—head spinning from how hard he’d kissed you, how deep the pull in his voice had gotten.

and then, because you never learned, you pushed again.

“you suck at commitment,” you whispered, just loud enough for the words to crack between your bodies.

his eyes lifted. sharpened.

“so of course the thing that gets you off is fucking your best friend’s girl.” you murmured, that bratty smile creeping back, slow and venomous. 

his jaw flexed, and his grip in your hair tightened, but firm like he was warning you not to push further.

you pushed anyway.

“you’re just waiting for him to fuck up so you can sweep in and take whatever’s left of me, aren’t you?” you tilted your head, voice like silk-wrapped poison. “or maybe you just like being the one thing i’d never admit to wanting. the one i should stay the hell away from.”

“shut the hell up.”

you barely had time to blink before the hand in your hair yanked, sharp enough to drag a breathless gasp out of you, neck craning with the force of it. his other hand gripped your waist, fingers digging into the curve of your hip as he pressed in closer, until there wasn’t a single inch between you. 

“you think i’m here because i want to be some dirty secret?” his voice was a low, guttural rasp, so close to your ear you felt it more than heard it. “you think i give a fuck about winning you over? i’m here because you won’t fucking stop.”

he twisted your hair tighter. you whimpered.

“you come to my door, night after night, eyes all big, talking about how much you ‘love’ felix while you practically beg me to wreck you. you play innocent until i call you out, and then you play victim when i do.” his breath was hot against your neck now, mouth brushing the skin there, just barely. “you want to be used. you want to be put in your place.”

your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, stubborn even now, even as your pulse skittered like a cornered thing under your skin. you knew the look in his eyes. knew what came next. but you still couldn’t resist the bite.

“you think i’m begging for you?” you breathed, voice laced with mockery, the kind of tone that always made his temper spark. “you’re the one holding me like you’re about to come in your pants.”

he didn’t say a word.

just slid one hand down your thigh, slow and deliberate, then bent his knee and shoved it up between your legs.

your breath punched out in a shocked whimper as his thigh pressed firm against your core, forcing your hips to roll against it. you bucked without meaning to try to chase the pressure.

“mmhm,” seungmin murmured, his voice dark and low, head tilted so his mouth brushed your temple. “that shut you up.”

you made a small, desperate sound, your forehead falling forward, burying in the crook of his neck as your fingers fisted tighter in his shirt. 

“you’re so loud until i do something about it,” he said, voice vibrating against your skin, his arms tightening around you. “that bratty little mouth just runs and runs—but look at you now.”

he shifted his leg just enough to drag it against you again. the friction sent another whine crawling out of your throat—high and pathetic—and your hips jerked, grinding down on instinct.

he exhaled a laugh, mean and quiet.

“that’s what i thought.”

you tried to lift your head, tried to snarl something back—anything—but he beat you to it, dragging his lips down the side of your face in a taunting, too-soft kiss.

“don’t start,” he warned, just above a whisper. 

then his hands were back on your waist, strong and certain, and before you could even protest he hoisted you up—effortless—like you weighed nothing at all. you gasped, arms looping around his neck, legs instinctively locking around his waist as he walked you across the room.

he dumped you onto the couch and the cushions barely bounced before he was on you again.

seungmin climbed over you, arms bracketing your shoulders as his mouth descended. his lips crashed into yours, breath hot and wild, tongue slick as it parted your mouth and stole the air from your lungs.

you moaned into it as his hand found your jaw, thumb swiping your cheekbone as he tilted your head just the way he wanted. 

and then you were moving.

your fingers fumbled at the hem of your shirt—thin, soft cotton stretched from how tightly it clung to you. you broke the kiss for only a second, just long enough to yank the thing over your head. you dropped the shirt somewhere and lay back in just your bra, chest rising fast, skin flushed and exposed.

seungmin’s eyes dropped immediately. his breath caught. his hand followed, dragging from your throat down between the swell of your breasts, pausing over the center of your bra. his thumb brushed the fabric, then pressed—slow, heavy—watching the way you squirmed beneath him, lips parted and eyes half-lidded.

“you know how long i’ve wanted to see you like this?” he muttered, voice dark with hunger, words rumbling low in his chest as he leaned in and kissed just above your heart, then down, slower, pressing his mouth to the tops of your breasts like he wanted to memorize the way they rose under him. “fucking teasing me for days—saying things like that. all those stupid little games.”

his fingers found the clasp of your bra like he’d done it a hundred times in his head—deft, practiced, no fumbling. just a subtle flick and it came undone, the straps slipping from your shoulders like silk unraveling.

seungmin exhaled like the sight of you finally, completely naked from the waist up had knocked the breath clean out of him. his hands moved to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. and then he leaned in again, mouth hot and open as he kissed between them, then circled your left nipple with his tongue, teasing and wet, before he wrapped his lips around it and sucked.

a sharp gasp cracked out of you, and your fingers twisting in the waistband of his sweatpants, tugging.

he pulled off your breast with a soft pop, breath damp against your skin. “why so impatient?” he murmured, almost amused.

“i want your cock,” you said, no shame, voice breathy and sharp, like it hurt to wait anymore.

his lips quirked into something wicked. “yeah?”

you nodded, hard, grinding your hips up into him as your hand finally slipped under the waistband of his sweats. he hissed the second your fingers brushed him, already thick, already hot and twitching against his stomach through his boxers. but before you could go further, he grabbed the hem of his shirt behind his neck and pulled—one smooth motion, the fabric dragging up and over his body.

your mouth went dry.

toned, tight muscle rippled under taut skin, the faint sheen of sweat catching in the low light, highlighting his collarbones, the sculpt of his chest, the sharp cut of his abs. 

you surged up before he could say another word, catching his mouth in another kiss. your hand curled into the back of his neck, pulling him down as you rose onto your knees, chest to chest, skin flushed and searing. the contact made you whimper—fuck, you could feel how hard he was against you, thick and pulsing through the last thin layer of fabric between you.

seungmin kissed you back just as fiercely, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gripping your waist like he needed to anchor himself or risk unraveling completely. but then you felt his hand shift—lower—and a second later, you heard the soft rustle of elastic being dragged down.

your breath hitched.

you broke the kiss and looked down, watching as he palmed himself once through his boxers, then pushed them down and freed his cock.

long. hard. already leaking at the tip.

your lips parted in a soft, unintentional moan. but you didn’t wait.

you kicked your shorts the rest of the way off, now in just your panties, the wet cotton clinging to the slick heat between your thighs. then you pushed at his chest with both hands and he let you, letting his body fall back against the couch, legs spread wide, arms resting on the back like he was trying to pretend he wasn’t completely at your mercy.

you slid down between his legs.

he blinked. “what are you—”

you didn’t answer.

just wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock, firm and slow, watching his reaction like it was the only thing that mattered. his breath stuttered the second you touched him—his hips jerked slightly, thighs tightening—and then you leaned in and licked a stripe up the underside, from the base to the leaking tip, slow and wet and intentional.

his whole body flinched.

“shit—”

you smirked against him.

and then took him into your mouth.

the groan he let out was sharp and low, a barely-muted “fffuck,” as your lips wrapped around the head and your tongue swirled, tasting the salt and heat of him. his hand flew to your hair immediately, not pushing, not guiding—just holding, fingers flexing tight like he couldn’t believe you were really doing this.

you bobbed your head lower, taking more of him in, your jaw stretching around the length, spit slicking your lips as you hollowed your cheeks and moved slow, teasing. he was big—thick, veiny, and already twitching—and every time you slid down farther, his head tipped back just a little more, breath coming harder through clenched teeth.

his fingers tightened in your hair—and then he moved. just slightly at first, a nudge, then a firmer grip as he began to guide the motion of your head, not gently anymore. his other hand came up, threading in from the opposite side, both fists tangled in your hair now like reins. he didn’t ask. he just took control.

“that’s it,” seungmin muttered, voice gone thick and gravelled with lust. “look at you.”

you moaned around him, mouth stuffed full, throat tightening as he eased you lower, deeper, until your nose brushed the skin of his abdomen. your hands clutched at his thighs for balance, fingernails digging into hard muscle as your body worked to adjust to the pressure, the stretch, the overwhelming heat of him.

“sick little slut,” he said, dragging you off slow just to watch the string of spit stretch from your lips to his tip. “you love this. love how wrong it is. god, it’s fucking wrong—and you’re making me love it too.” 

he slapped his cock against your tongue, twice, the sound slick and sharp. and then he shoved you back down.

his breath started to hitch—just barely at first, the rhythm of his hips losing their even tempo, those slow, punishing thrusts breaking into shallower, hungrier jolts. you felt him twitch against your tongue. heard the roughness crack into his voice when he breathed out, “shit… fuck…”

your gaze lifted, watery eyes blinking up at him from beneath your lashes.

“keep looking at me,” he growled. “fuck—don’t you dare look away.”

you didn’t. you couldn’t.

not when he looked like that—hair messy, chest heaving, sweat beading at his brow, so close to breaking. he was so fucking hot when he lost control. even hotter trying not to.

“your throat’s so perfect,” he moaned, low and wrecked, a sharp breath hitching through his chest. “i’m gonna come—fuck, i’m gonna fucking come—”

you moaned around him, squeezing your thighs together, letting him hold you down on his cock as the tension in his body snapped taut.

“take it. all of it,” he panted, staring you down, voice ragged.

his hips bucked once, twice—deep—and then he groaned, a sharp, guttural sound that punched out of him as he came. the heat of it flooded your mouth in thick, pulsing waves, and his grip stayed firm, keeping you down, watching as you took every drop just like he told you to.

he looked divine like that—head tipped back slightly, mouth open, moaning low as he spilled into you, owning you completely.

and even when his grip loosened, even when he finally let you breathe, he didn’t stop looking at you. watching. daring you to spit it out.

you didn’t.

you swallowed. every drop.

you pulled off slow, lips dragging over the sensitive head, tongue giving one last lazy swirl as he twitched again, shivering with the aftershocks. your mouth parted, a slick strand of spit and fluid stretching between your lips and the tip of his cock.

seungmin’s breath hitched.

his hands slid from your hair, but only to cup your jaw, tilting your face up so he could see the mess he’d made. his eyes dropped to your mouth, then back to the string still connecting you, lips swollen, chin wet, throat flushed.

“holy fuck,” he whispered, almost to himself. “you’re unreal.”

he groaned again—softer this time, a sound dragged from deep in his chest—and leaned forward, hand still at your face, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. you smiled and he kissed you hard, tasting himself on your tongue.

his mouth was still on yours, when his hand drifted lower—tracing the curve of your jaw, down your neck, over your chest, sliding across sweat-slick skin until it gripped your hip again with a kind of lazy command that made your stomach flip.

then lower.

his fingers found the waistband of your panties, still clinging to you, soaked through from everything he hadn’t even touched yet. he hooked them slow, curling his fingers into the fabric at both hips, and when he pulled, it wasn’t gentle.

they peeled down your thighs until you kicked them off completely, bare now—finally, fully—for him.

seungmin’s eyes raked down your body, slow and consuming, breath still coming hot from the kiss, lips slick from where they’d just tasted everything you gave him. his hands braced on your thighs, spreading them wider as he knelt between them, eyes locking on the soaked, glistening heat between your legs like he hadn’t just come down your throat.

“fuck,” he muttered, almost breathless, one hand dragging down his own stomach as he stared. “look at you.”

you were laid bare—flushed, panting, legs open and trembling slightly from the weight of everything that had already happened. but none of it compared to the way he looked now—his cock thick and hard again, already red at the tip. he gripped the base with one hand, slowly stroking, lazy and threatening, letting it drag against your folds—just enough to make you gasp, hips twitching toward him.

“you want this?” he murmured, low and sharp.

you nodded, fast. “please.”

he raised a brow. “please what?”

“please fuck me,” you said, voice shaky.

that crooked smile returned, pure smug satisfaction curling his mouth as he pressed the head of his cock just barely inside, enough to make your breath catch and your thighs clamp tighter around his hips.

“you’re dripping,” he muttered, leaning over you again, one hand catching the back of your knee and pushing it higher so he could slot himself closer, deeper. “haven’t even put it in yet and you’re this messy for me? where’d all that attitude go, huh?”

you gasped as he pushed in just an inch and then stopped, holding there, watching your face twist, your fingers clawing at his back.

“thought you were a brat,” he teased, biting down gently on your earlobe. “now you’re just some ruined little thing that can’t even pretend not to want it.”

“please,” you whimpered again, thighs trembling. “please—seungmin—just—”

then, a sound hit like a gunshot through the haze.

click. the distinct metallic thud of the front door unlocking.

seungmin froze.

his cock was still buried barely an inch inside you, his body caging yours, breath hot against your throat—but now he wasn’t moving. his fingers clenched reflexively around your thigh, and his head whipped toward the sound—eyes wide, jaw tight, every inch of him tensed like a predator caught mid-kill.

“fuck,” he whispered, sharp and guttural.

and then felix stepped into the room.

he stopped dead.

you tilted your head, still panting, still flushed, and looked straight at felix with a sweet, soft smile—like he’d just come home early from work and not walked in on you mid-fuck with his best friend.

“hi,” you breathed, syrupy, warm.

felix stared.

not at you.

at seungmin.

his gaze was unreadable for a second—stone still, lips parted just enough to show how hard he was breathing. his eyes dropped, scanned the scene: your bare thighs wrapped around seungmin’s waist, the blanket crooked and useless, the telltale sheen of sweat across your chest and collarbones. and then up—past the terror in seungmin’s jaw, past the panic in his shoulders—to the guilt smoldering behind his eyes.

“i knew you liked her,” felix said finally, voice low. too calm. “didn’t think you’d actually end up fucking her.”

seungmin’s mouth opened—but nothing came out.

felix took a slow step forward, arms relaxed at his sides, expression unreadable. his voice didn’t change, but his eyes… those burned. you sucked in a breath, but felix didn’t look at you. not yet. his eyes were locked on seungmin like a predator closing in.

“i didn’t think you’d ever give in,” he murmured, tone going cold. 

seungmin started, low and hoarse, like he couldn’t stand the fact that felix was seeing this. “i didn’t mean for—”

“didn’t mean for what?” felix cut in, still moving, slow and casual, until he stood right at the edge of the couch. “didn’t mean to let her suck you like a fucking plaything?”

seungmin’s fists clenched in the blanket.

“you were supposed to resist, man,” he said, eyes narrowing as he took another step closer. “that was the whole point. she comes to you, she tests you, you turn her away—and then we laugh about it later. that was the game. right?”

seungmin’s eyes finally dropped to your face.

and something in them changed.

because he saw it.

the tilt of your head, the shine in your eyes—not guilt, but delight. your lips parted just so, chest rising soft and slow beneath the half-thrown blanket, fingers tangled in seungmin’s hair like you were comfortable. like you’d planned to be here.

he blinked once. slowly.

and then again, faster—realization crashing over him like cold water doused on a flame that had never stopped burning.

“you…” his voice broke off, low and rough. “you set me up.”

you looked up at him through your lashes—wide, sweet, the perfect picture of breathless innocence twisted by the filth still dripping between your thighs. and then you turned your head to felix, eyes glinting, lips curling into something soft and fake and begging.

“felix…” you whined, the kind of pretty pout that always got you whatever you wanted. “he’s so big…”

felix exhaled—his hand dragging up the side of his neck like he was trying not to smile.

you squirmed under seungmin, hips rolling just enough to feel the stretch of him again, and seungmin’s breath stuttered. your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed, like your own body was confirming the betrayal.

“feels so good already.” you whispered, and then looked back at felix. seungmin’s fingers dug into your thigh. hard. “i know you’ll let me,” you breathed. “please… don’t stop him.”

that did it.

seungmin swore under his breath, low and feral, staring down at you like he didn’t know whether to fuck you harder or get the hell out of his own skin. but his hips moved.

slightly. just once.

felix sat down in the armchair across from you both, legs spread, eyes dark and burning with something closer to pride than rage.

“go on then,” he said, voice low and satisfied. 

seungmin’s eyes never left felix, rage flaring behind them so fierce it looked ready to combust.

“you fucking knew,” he growled, voice a snarl through clenched teeth. “you knew she’d do this. you let her.”

felix didn’t flinch. just sat back, calm, the barest hint of a smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “i wanted her to.”

that was it.

seungmin’s control snapped like a wire pulled too tight—and he slammed into you, hard, burying himself to the hilt with a brutal snap of his hips that drove a loud, shocked moan from your throat.  “this what you wanted to see?”

his grip locked on your thighs, hauling your hips up as he fucked into you again, and again—deep, fast, punishing. the couch jolted beneath you with each thrust, your hands scrabbling against his arms, his shoulders, nails sinking into sweat-slick skin as your back arched and your mouth fell open.

felix’s gaze slid from seungmin’s face to yours. his smile widened.

“she’s so loud when she’s getting what she needs, isn’t she?”

he slammed into you again—harder. you cried out, head tipping back, the sound raw, obscene.

“you’re both fucked,” seungmin snarled, but his voice cracked mid-word because of the way your cunt clenched around him.

you couldn’t speak—couldn’t think—every inch of you reduced to a moaning, shaking mess under him. your legs locked around his waist and your fingers clutched his back, your breath coming in broken sobs of pleasure as he drove into you like he hated you.

you barely noticed felix moving—until he was closer. right at the edge of the couch, one hand wrapped around his cock, slowly stroking as he stared down at you. his eyes never left your face—how your lips parted with every thrust, how your gaze trembled between him and seungmin like you couldn’t decide where you wanted to be more.

“god, look at you,” felix murmured, voice dark with want.

you blinked up at him, lips glossy, eyes dazed but hungry.

“feels so good, lix,” you gasped, barely able to speak between the rhythm of seungmin pounding into you.

felix’s hand slowed for a second, breath catching.

felix’s voice dipped closer, the edge of amusement curling around the heat in it. “yeah?” he murmured, eyes dragging down your body like he owned it—like he always had.

you nodded, lips trembling, breath shattered. he leaned in, and his mouth caught yours—hot, hungry, tasting every broken moan that seungmin fucked out of you. his tongue tangled with yours, messy and deep, just as seungmin’s hand slid down your front, his palm pressing into your lower belly, fingers slipping lower until they found your clit.

you cried out against felix’s mouth, legs twitching, hips bucking, body burning from both ends. the kiss broke with a wet gasp, your head lolling back against the couch as your eyes rolled slightly, your moans loud and unfiltered now.

felix chuckled low, wiping a strand of spit from your chin with his thumb. “you’re such a fucking mess,” he said, voice rich with amusement.

seungmin let out a laugh as well—dark, breathless, as he ground into you harder, fingers relentless on your clit. his cock slammed into you, thick and unrelenting, the heat of him spreading molten through your stomach with every drag along your inner walls. you were gasping now, clawing at his shoulders, eyes fluttering.

“seungmin, fuck, i’m… i’m close,” you choked out, voice high and shattered.

his gaze snapped down to yours and that smirk came back. “gonna come from this?”

you whimpered, nodding fast, barely able to breathe. “yes, yes—please don’t stop,”

“fuuuck, listen to you,” he hissed, hips slamming forward, burying himself to the hilt again and again. his breath came rough and fast, sweat beading at his temples, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack.

you felt yourself shatter, your cries were coming faster now, breathless, frantic, slurred through the haze of pleasure and overstimulation.

seungmin pressed his lips to you, his mouth crashed against yours like he was devouring you, lips bruising, tongue sliding in with filthy desperation. you moaned into him, loud and helpless, your body seizing beneath his as your orgasm hit—white-hot and blinding.

your cunt clenched around him, fluttering tight, wringing every inch of him as your hips jerked, stars exploding behind your eyes. your cry stuttered around his tongue as he swallowed every sound, kissing you through it, keeping you pinned.

above you, felix groaned.

his hand was tangled in your hair now, stroking the strands as his other pumped his cock in long, slow strokes. he watched you come undone with his eyes half-lidded, jaw slack, breath stuttering as his thumb traced lazy circles against your scalp like you were some obedient pet.

“fuck, you look perfect like this,” he muttered. “ruined and full…”

seungmin grunted, low and desperate, hips faltering as your walls kept clenching around him. his rhythm stuttered—and then he pulled out fast, a gasp torn from his throat as he wrapped his hand around his cock.

he jerked once, twice—and then his cum spurted hot across your stomach, up across your ribs, warm and sticky against your skin. his moan was deep, feral, drawn-out as his eyes rolled and hips twitched.

you lay there, panting, dazed, your body still twitching from the aftershocks—and then another groan.

felix stepped closer.

one hand cupped your jaw, thumb brushing your lips as he stroked himself with the other, his cock thick and glistening. he looked down at your face—flushed, breathless, mouth wet from seungmin’s kiss—and that did it.

he came with a snarl, thick white ropes streaking your cheek, your lips, your chin—painting your flushed skin like he owned every inch of it. his hand stayed on your face the whole time, thumb rubbing over the mess like he was proud of it, eyes fixed on you like you were the most perfect thing he’d ever seen.

“good girl,” felix murmured, voice low and warm as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, so gentle it felt obscene. “fucking masterpiece.”

your lips parted around a shaky breath, cum dripping in slow, glistening rivulets down your chin and throat, pooling at the hollow of your collarbone. felix’s thumb smeared through it absently, still caressing, like he couldn’t help but admire the contrast—his release shining against your flushed, sweat-damp skin. 

you blinked up at him, dazed, your lashes clumped and cheeks burning. and then, slowly, you smiled.

seungmin let out a breath, still catching himself, sweat dripping from his brow as he looked down at the mess he’d left across your stomach—his cum still warm where it streaked your skin. 

you tilted your head, lips still slick, and felix groaned again, this time softer.

“my goodness, angel,” he whispered.

you hummed low in your throat, half-purr, half-taunt.

then, finally, your head tipped back onto the couch cushion. your eyes fluttered shut. the smile stayed—lazy, satisfied, gleaming.

like a girl who knew exactly what she’d done.

the sheets were still warm.

felix had you wrapped up tight, one arm snug around your waist, the other curled beneath your neck, fingers brushing your hair like he couldn’t stop touching you. you were tucked under his chin, his bare chest rising and falling steady against your back. his nose nuzzled into your hair with lazy affection, lips brushing soft against your scalp.

you stirred, eyes fluttering open to sunlight spilling through the blinds, thin golden lines stretching across the floor and up the rumpled duvet. your legs were tangled with his. 

and then— mwah a soft kiss to your temple. mwah another, to the edge of your jaw. mwah one on the curve of your shoulder, where his fingers swept your hair away.

“morning,” he whispered, voice sleep-rough and sweet, like honey dripped over gravel. “you’re so pretty like this.”

you hummed, face buried into the pillow. “it’s too early for this.”

“uh-huh,” felix said without shame, lips trailing along your shoulder blade now, down the dip of your spine. 

you laughed into the sheets, sore in all the right places, a soft ache between your thighs reminding you of exactly how ruined you’d been. his hand found your stomach, palm wide and splayed, thumb brushing the bottom of your ribcage in slow circles.

“you okay?” he murmured against your skin. 

you twisted in his arms just enough to meet his gaze—his eyes, glassy with sleep, crinkled at the corners with that barely-there smile that made your heart go stupid.

“i’m good,” you whispered. “better than good.”

he leaned in, kissed your nose, your cheek, the corner of your mouth. quick, playful. like he couldn’t stop. like every inch of you deserved a thank-you.

you furrowed your brows, reaching for the edge of the blanket. “by the way, where’s my bag?”

felix blinked. “huh?”

“my bag,” you said again, starting to sit up. “where is it?”

he pointed lazily, chin barely tilting. “nightstand, baby. why?”

you leaned over, the sheet slipping down your back, and grabbed the small crossbody. felix’s hand instinctively landed on your hip to keep you steady as you rummaged through the front pocket with a purpose. a second later, you turned and slapped bills into his chest.

his brows shot up.

“you win.”

felix blinked down at the money like you’d just handed him a dead bird.

he didn’t take it. of course he didn’t.

instead, he plucked the bills from his chest, slow and deliberate, and shoved them right back into your bag without a word. then he zipped it shut, dropped it on the nightstand, and flopped onto his back with a dramatic sigh, one arm draped over his eyes.

“you’re actually insane,” he muttered. “you think i’d ever take your money?”

you crawled over to him confused, settling on his chest. “we made a bet.” you said, like maybe he’d forgotten. 

felix let his arm fall to the side so he could wrap it around your waist and pull you in, skin to skin, like your weight on him was exactly where it belonged.

“yeah and i won, but you keep your money,” he said finally, voice all lazy warmth. 

you groaned, shoving your face into his chest like you could physically block out how disgustingly sweet he was being.

“felix.”

“hmm?”

“you are so annoying.”

“i know,” he said, unbothered, brushing his fingers up and down your spine. “and romantic. and incredibly sexy.”

you lifted your head just enough to squint at him. “you forgot modest.”

“oh, shush you,” felix said, grinning as he dragged his fingers up your spine in a slow, teasing stroke that made you giggle. he kissed your shoulder with a soft hum, like your laughter was his favorite sound in the world. 

felix kissed your shoulder one last time before murmuring into your skin, “let’s talk to him.”

your body stilled slightly, then you nodded. because you knew it was time.

felix slid out from beneath you, grabbing the shirt you’d tugged off of him sometime last night and pulling it over his head. you reached for the discarded tee you’d been wearing, padding across the room barefoot as felix opened the door.

the hallway was dim and still cool from the night air, but there was light coming from the kitchen. you could already hear it—the quiet clink of a mug, the scrape of a chair against tile.

of course he was up.

seungmin was always up earlier than you two. he didn’t believe in sleeping in. said it made his thoughts sluggish. said it let the day get too far ahead.

when you turned the corner into the kitchen, you found him exactly as expected—sitting at the table, coffee in hand, earbuds in but not playing anything. he looked up the moment he heard your footsteps, gaze flicking to you, then felix, then back to the mug in his hands like he already knew why you were there.

felix was the one who spoke first. “hey.”

seungmin didn’t answer. just took a slow sip, then set the mug down and pulled out one earbud.

you stepped forward. slowly.

he looked back at felix, then raised an eyebrow. “so. who’s idea was it?”

felix didn’t even hesitate. “mine.”

seungmin let out a short laugh, quiet but sharp, like a puff of air he didn’t plan on releasing. he leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs out under the table, and shook his head. “of course it was.”

“you’re not mad?” you asked carefully.

he sipped his coffee again. “i’m annoyed i got turned into a fucking science experiment, but i’m not mad.”

you tilted your head, smile pulling sharper as you crossed your arms and leaned against the counter. “well, good. because with your horrible commitment issues, it’s not like you’d want strings attached anyway.”

seungmin raised both brows, smirking now. “no strings attached, huh?”

you shrugged. “why? you suddenly want some?”

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

you’d always thought of him as sunshine.

everyone did.

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

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

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

not truly.

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

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

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

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

“you’re being dramatic.”

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

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

you blinked. “what?”

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

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

“isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i will.”

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

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

“that was disgusting.”

you turned.

“excuse me?”

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

you opened your mouth to argue.

then closed it.

“okay, but—”

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

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

still, you couldn’t help yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

“good luck.”

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

jealousy. that was your angle.

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

but now, you needed a reaction.

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

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

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

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

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

felix didn’t say a word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but felix wasn’t reacting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

this wasn’t going to work.

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

because felix didn’t play games.

not with you.

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

this wasn’t going to work.

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

but you weren’t done.

not yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…did you add too much sugar?”

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

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

and then, smiled?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you didn’t know.

you really didn’t know anymore.

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

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

the knife slipped.

there was a sharp sting.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

your mouth went dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i’m sorry, baby” he said.

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

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

you swallowed hard.

“it’s okay felix,” you said slowly. 

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

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

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

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

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

but he was still doing everything out of love.

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

and somehow, that made it worse.

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

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

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

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

you didn’t know what else to do.

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

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

you'd stared at it for a long time.

one last attempt.

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

which is why he was between your thighs right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

and maybe that was the problem.

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

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

and then he paused. just for a second.

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

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

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

but tonight, something changed in you.

you weren’t going to hold back.

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

he froze.

lifted his head.

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

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

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

and of course it did something to you.

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

you pouted. just a little. “why?”

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

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

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

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

“well i don’t want him to hear you.”

the words were flat. he meant it.

you blinked, breath catching.

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

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

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

that did it.

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

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

you felt it instantly.

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

and tonight you’d done nothing but poke.

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

“you really think i don’t know?”

you swallowed hard.

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

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

“i was just distracted—”

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

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

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

it made your thighs press together. instinctive.

and he noticed.

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

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

you whimpered, lips parting, but he kept going.

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

you shivered.

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

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

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

you could barely breathe.

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

felix didn’t flinch.

didn’t soften.

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

“of course it is,” he said flatly.

you blinked.

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

you winced.

but your cunt clenched hard.

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

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

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

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

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

your hips bucked.

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

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

“i’ll give it to you.”

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

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

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

he held there.

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

but he didn’t.

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

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

“is that what you want?” he asked.

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

you knew it for what it was.

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

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

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

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

he cursed.

low and vicious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

it was too much.

it was everything.

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

his rhythm never faltered.

not once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you never wanted soft.”

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

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

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

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

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

“who?” he shouted again, voice rising.

and you said it.

whimpered it.

half-mindless, but not mindless enough.

“seungmin.”

felix went still.

then he laughed.

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

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

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

just to feel them.

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

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

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

you whimpered.

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

he slammed into you again, cruel and sudden.

you screamed, head snapping back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you weren’t trying?”

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

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

you didn’t know anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

the word slapped.

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

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

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

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

then he pulled out.

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

“no, please—”

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

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

“all fours.”

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

he stared for a long second.

then, flatly:

“prove it. prove your sorry.”

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

but he didn’t move.

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

you blinked, stunned.

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

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

your whole body shook.

you whimpered once and then moved. slowly. shamefully.

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

but he didn’t.

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

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

he just watched.

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

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

“felix, i can’t—”

“you wanted this.”

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

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

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

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

“of course you can’t.”

you shivered.

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

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

and then he didn’t stop.

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

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

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

“felix, fuck—i’m gonna—”

his pace didn’t stutter.

didn’t falter.

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

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

“cum then.”

and you did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he stayed there, breathing with you.

then, he eased back.

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

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

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

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

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

still nothing.

not a single word.

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

and there he was.

your felix.

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

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

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

“i love you, felix.”

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

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

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

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

that made him laugh.

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

he stayed beside you.

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

and when you fell asleep, it was in silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and there he was.

seungmin.

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

you pretended nothing happened.

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

“i’ve been up,” he said simply.

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

and then you felt it.

his presence. he stepped closer. closer.

you didn’t dare turn around.

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

sixty bucks in cash.

you stared at the bills for a second.

then turned.

slowly.

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

“congrats.”

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

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

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

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

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

seungmin gave you a long, dry look.

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

he snorted.

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

“do what?”

“make him snap.” 

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

his eyes narrowed, slow. “yeah?”

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

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

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

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

you nodded.

“i will.”

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

both your heads turned.

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

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

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

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

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

then, behind you, a shift in the air.

felix’s gaze lifted—over your shoulder.

met seungmin’s across the room.

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

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

han jisung is always in your fucking house.

does he even have parents? a bed of his own? you honestly aren’t sure. it’s not like you could ask if you wanted to, because even though han jisung is always in your fucking house- he’s also always with your older brother.

“y/n, did you eat the last of mom’s leftovers?”

“no.”

“are you lying?”

“she looks like she’s lying, hyung. looks guilty.”

you roll your eyes, feeling the weight of annoyance spiking at a level only your brother and his best friend could conjure in your soul as you glance sideways at them. if your popcorn would just turn a little faster in the microwave, you could escape them so much quicker.

han jisung is the type of person that makes you question how he got there in the first place. you don’t remember meeting him, don’t remember your first impression or the first conversation you had. it’s like he’s just always been there, attached to chan’s hip and eating all the snacks in your parents’ pantry. chan treats jisung like the brother he never had, and in return jisung treats you like he’s the second brother you never asked for.

it really irks you- how he is always in your space, long legs taking up all the room on the couch, loud laughter and clapping hands carrying from chan’s room to your own across the hall. chan is irritating at times, as any sibling is, but jisung is irritating in entirely different ways.

example one: chan had always been a year above you in school. you never got to introduce yourself to your teachers, because they already knew you as chan’s little sister. he was the football captain, and the class president, and participated in so many extracurricular activities you felt your own head grow heavy at the thought of his daily schedule. everyone knew him, and everyone knew jisung- because jisung was always beside him.

jisung was co-captain, he was vice president, he was in every single club chan was. they both swear they never planned it, the same way they never planned to make you the world’s most lonely teenager ever. because no high school boy wants to mess with chan’s little sister- and the ones that were brave enough to try, dealt with jisung.

jisung, who threw his arm around you every time he saw you talking to a boy by the lockers. jisung, who turned down every date you were asked on before you could even open your mouth. han fucking jisung, who-

“so, you know your friend with the curly hair?” jisung speaks up, standing way too close, leaning his elbows against the counter beside you while you zone out to the hum of the microwave. your popcorn just started popping.

you glance at him sideways, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “yes, i’m aware of her. you know, since she’s my friend and all. ”

jisung hums, biting into his pink bottom lip and looking up at you from his slouched, lazy posture. looking entirely too cocky, way too sure of himself. you blink, looking away before that mental image can get stuck in your head.

“is she single?” he asks, ignoring your scoff of discontent. when you don’t respond he follows up with a whine, drawn out and scratching at your eardrums. “come on- i’m asking for a friend!”

“what friend?” you shoot back, a little incredulous. “chan is the only friend you have!”

han fucking jisung- who is still the devil on your shoulder, even now.

chan graduated college last year. he moved back home, moved back in with your parents until he could find a place in the city- and you couldn’t even pretend to be shocked when jisung decided to move back home too. then, it was your turn to graduate college. and it was only a little embarrassing to fold all of your clothes into your childhood dresser three months ago, feeling better knowing that chan was in the exact same boat.

now it feels like you never moved out. because you still live in your parents’ house with your brother and jisung is still torturing you with his presence.

what makes everything about a billion times worse is that jisung got ripped while he was away at college. it’s obvious chan dragged him to the gym often, the muscled biceps underneath his tight black t shirt flexing with every move he makes. he isn’t some scrawny boy who wears hoodies that swallow him anymore- now he’s… grown up. taller, bigger, but still a pain in your neck. now, the added irritation of all of your friends commenting on how hot your brother’s best friend is just adds more insult to injury.

so, that’s how it goes. you wake up every morning, have your first cup of coffee in peace, and let your mind wander without a path to follow. with your parents gone most of the time, enjoying each other’s company now that they (in theory) have an empty nest, there’s no one around to tell you not to use the good mugs- whatever that means- and there’s no one to break the quiet comfort of silence in the mornings.

that is, until jisung knocks on your front door.

chan is never awake in time to answer, so it’s your duty to be the designated greeting card. you know it’s jisung, because it’s always jisung; when you open the door it’s with a loud groan, as if your peace has been shattered into tiny little shards of what once was. really, it has.

“good morning to you too, gorgeous.” jisung hums, even throws in a wink when he squeezes past you to enter the space. as if he lives there, too.

“chan isn’t awake,” you mumble as you always do, running a hand through your hair and sipping your coffee. it scalds your tongue, still way too hot, but it’s a better alternative to whatever jisung wants to ramble about today.

“oh! i actually meant to tell you- guess who i saw yesterday?” jisung is grinning, sharp white teeth on display. you fight a cold chill that makes you want to shiver, crossing your arms under your chest as you blankly look back at him.

“please tell me who you saw yesterday, i’m on the edge of my seat,” you drawl lazily, monotoned. jisung chuckles as if he is winning an impromptu standoff, as if he’s never lost anything in his life. suddenly, you feel the spike of nerves in your stomach. jisung is always bad to be around, but he’s hellish when he has a secret he knows you want to know.

“i saw lee felix,” he hums out, grinning wider, eyes flicking down your body in slow motion, as if he wants to take the time to savor your reaction and watch the twitch in your fingertips.

you try not to react- you really try. but the flush you feel warming your cheeks and the furrow in your brow can’t be hidden. once again, you’re irate because of han jisung. naturally.

“you mean the guy you lied to about me not being single junior year of high school?” you huff, biting your cheek to stop your anger from slipping into your tone. jisung looks like he is entirely too pleased with himself. “the guy you didn’t correct when he assumed you and i were together? the guy i had a major crush on?”

jisung hums an affirmative sound, resting against the back of the couch behind him, mimicking the cross of your arms with his own muscular ones. you feel your grip tighten on your mug.

“exactly! and you know what he asked me?” jisung raises an eyebrow, tongue pressed between rows of pearly white teeth peeking out of his mouth. you feel the sudden intrusive thought to throw your scalding coffee at him, wipe the cocksure grin from the corners of his lips.

through gritted teeth you decide to humor him. “what did lee felix ask you, jisung?”

and his grin turns sharper- eyes narrowing, pushing off the back of the couch to step an inch closer to you. you hope he doesn’t notice the way your breath hitches in your chest, hope he can’t hear the way your heartbeat is loud in your ears. you have to look up to meet his eye, trapped between his muscled chest and the wall behind you.

“he asked me if you were as good of a fuck as he imagined you to be.”

tv static is taking up all of the space in your head that usually holds your wit, your sharp tongue dulled under the all-encompassing heat in jisung’s stare. if you had any thoughts to spare, you would be asking yourself what the hell is happening. because this isn’t the usual, annoying and protective act you were used to jisung pulling. this isn’t the same as him telling every boy you’ve ever met that he bites- jisung is looking down at you with an intensity behind his dark brown baby doe eyes that makes him look less like prey, more like the thing doing the hunting.

you have to ask yourself, what the hell is wrong with me? because even after all these years of jisung being the thing haunting your every waking moment, your thighs still clench together when he pushes closer. you still feel the way your eyes fight not to flutter closed when his cologne hits your nose, something that smells like roses and petrichor. you feel the pulse of want curl into the base of your stomach, thinking his hands look so much bigger now, wrapped around vein-ridden biceps with crossed arms, thinking about all the ways his hands could engulf you-

jisung is pulling away quickly, and by the time you complete a series of blinks he is leaning against the couch again, phone in hand, casual as ever. you’re about to ask him if you had experienced a hallucination, mouth open but brain not quite working yet, when you hear it: footsteps, slow and dragging down the hall upstairs.

chan comes down the stairs groggy, eyes half closed and curly hair sticking up all over his head. he’s scratching his chest, yawning and barely glancing at your disheveled state before hitting jisung lightly on the arm to get his attention.

“hey man, you still staying here tonight?” chan asks, already retreating back up the steps with jisung tailing him, feet softly thumping the staircase.

“yeah, if that’s cool. dad is having a poker game tonight, he’ll force me to play with his buddies and lose all my money.” you hear the echo of jisung’s chuckle, but you don’t process the words. your brain is still on loop, repeating jisung is staying here tonight over and over again uselessly.

jisung has stayed the night with chan countless times. like previously mentioned, you’re not convinced he even has a house of his own. jisung waking up and descending the stairs of your home is just as normal of an occurrence as chan being here. but-

but. your body is still hot. your thighs are still clenching, as if to get a hold on your bodily reaction to him being as close as he was. he didn’t even do anything- just pushed hot air from his lips, let it hit your neck, just leaned in far too close.

and it’s not like you’re some blushing, virgin mary. your body count isn’t in double digits, but it’s more than one. you like to tease and flirt and let people stutter through trying to do the same in return. you like it when people fawn over you, biting their lips nervously and ducking their head down when they ask you out. so what about the situation that occurred less than five minutes ago made you have such a violent, embarrassing reaction?

you shake your head, using the excuse that it’s just… ovulation. probably. never mind the fact that your period isn’t due for another three weeks, it has to be some weird bodily hormone that makes you feel like opening your legs wide and begging- whatever.

you focus on carrying on as normal, business as usual. you video chat with your best friend, listening to him complain about an art critic who reviewed his favorite piece at the local gallery and totally missed the point. you shower, apply your favorite skin care routine and braid your hair, anything to keep your mind pleasantly busy. anything to keep you from gritting your teeth when you hear the loud claps of laughter from the other side of the hall.

your bed seems so much more comfortable than usual, letting your body sink into the mattress with a sigh of relief. it’s a couple hours earlier than you would usually go to sleep, but the events of this morning made you run circles in your head that exhausted you. so with the moon still rising and the sky just turning completely dark, you close your eyes and try not to think.

and of course, han jisung doesn’t let you know peace. even in your dreams, your mind replays the way he never quite touched you this morning. your mind wanders to thoughts of what it would have felt like if he had- if he had gripped your waist with one large hand, warm palm running up and down your ribs in a faux gesture of innocent intent. would he lure you in gently, like a cat waiting for the right moment to descend with fangs? or would he be mean from the start, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth just to hear the way you whine and see how fast your skin breaks?

the thoughts manifest as visions, dreams of honey skin and a heart shaped mouth. then you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you slightly, and that doesn’t feel like a vision at all. it feels real, so real you flutter your eyes open with a squint of confusion.

“hey- there you are,” a low voice, sleep-ridden and scratched, murmurs from above. you swallow the whine trapped in your throat from left over sleep, blinking up to see… han jisung. as if you conjured him from your dreams. of course.

“you were talking in your sleep,” he says next, chuckling after. “nightmare?”

you shake your head, waking up more and more. jisung’s hand is still pressed lightly to your bare shoulder, warm and engulfing. his fingertip rests under your tank top strap.

“wasn’t a nightmare,” you mumble, watching him shift to squat next to you, eye-level. “what are you doing up?”

“bathroom,” he shrugs. “heard you on my way back to chan’s room.”

then jisung is looking at you- really looking, taking in the position your body is in and the flush on your cheeks. the blanket is only covering you from the waist down, too warm in your room to have it up any further. when jisung’s eyes flit down to where your legs are hugging one of your pillows, his head tilts to the side.

“not a nightmare, hm?” he murmurs, phrasing the question in a way that doesn’t want a response. his hand trails down your arm, making you fight off a shiver when his fingers grip the blanket at your waist lightly. “you know, this pillow between your legs is all rumpled up. were you using it?”

then you feel the blanket move down, slowly revealing your hip and the exposed skin of your thigh. you vaguely register that you aren’t wearing pants, too hot to bother with anything more than the underwear clinging to your skin. and jisung is taking in a breath, hitched and amused like he just confirmed his own suspicion. when you glance down you can’t see much, but the moonlight filtering through your window highlights the dark patch of cloth amongst your clean pillow case- right where you suppose you were grinding into it, right where your pussy is clenching at having been caught.

“you know, i only came in here because i thought i heard you say my name,” jisung is grinning. he pulls the blanket further down your thighs, off of your legs, and rakes his gaze back up to your eyes. despite the warmth of your room, you shiver. “were you saying my name, baby?”

baby, baby, baby- playing on loop in his low, scratchy voice. jisung has never called you that, has never looked at you with so much unabashed desire. and his hand moves again, gripping your hipbone in a way that’s almost soft, fingers digging into the space around your hip like he wants to carve out its shape.

“i wasn’t-“ you whisper, shaking your head like you could possibly deny what he so clearly heard. jisung grins like that’s exactly what he wanted you to say.

“oh, you weren’t saying my name?” he hums, brow raised, fingers digging into you just an inch harder. “so i didn’t hear sungie, need you, need your co-“

he’s whining and moaning loud enough to make you panic, hand slapping over his mouth to shut him up. you feel your breath stutter when he doesn’t put up a fight, just looks at you from behind your own hand. you listen for the telltale thump of chan’s feet, but the house outside of your room is silent. jisung wraps his fingers around your wrist, engulfing it, and pulls you away. not far- your hand is resting on his jaw now, only moving you enough so he can speak.

“he’s asleep, you know?” jisung bites into his lip, head tilting back towards the door. you scoff and pull your wrist out of his grip.

“and what are you going to say when he wakes up and comes looking for you? when he finds you in his little sister’s room trying to- seduce her?” you hiss, flustered at the situation. all you get in return is a raised brow and the amused quirk of jisung’s lips.

“come on, baby. you know better than anyone how deep he sleeps. the house could be set on fire and he wouldn’t wake up until the flames hit his foot.”

you don’t have a rebuttal this time. you know jisung has a point, but it’s still so, so wrong. jisung is chan’s best friend, if he ever found out you would both be six feet under. chan would never speak to either of you ever again.

but jisung is right in front of you. he is standing to his feet slowly, like he is afraid to move too quickly and scare the small, feral animal in front of him. your breath hitches sharply when he turns your body, hands guiding you until you’re laying on your back and he can crawl onto the bed. his knees land between your legs, your body responding and legs spreading open even as you think of all of the horrible ways you could be caught.

jisung lets out a long, slow exhale from his parted lips as he looks down at you. your tank top has rumpled up in your sleep, laying right above your stomach, and the hand that lays on your ribs feels so big in comparison. you bite your lip as his hand travels lower, dipping under the waistline of your soaked panties to pull and tug upwards at the material.

jisung groans, “god- you’re so fucking pretty, baby. it’s not fair.”

“what’s not fair?” you mumble, half-dazed and fighting a whine at the way the material of your underwear slides against your sensitive clit.

“you get to walk around like this all the time,” jisung whispers, gaze never leaving your pussy- like he doesn’t want to miss a single twitch of your hips. “and i have to pretend i don’t think about how tight this little cunt would be wrapped around my cock.”

the whine that leaves your lips is one of pure desperation, making your hand slap over your mouth to avoid being heard. jisung flicks his eyes toward the head of the bed, gaze meeting yours, as he tilts his head to the side.

“you like that, rockstar?” jisung asks in a quiet hum, palming his bulge over his sweatpants. he uses his other hand to tease your clit over your thin panties, thumb rubbing over the bundle of nerves ever so lightly. “like when i tell you what you do to me? what i think about when im sleeping in the next room over?”

you nod, bordering on desperate as your hips kick up. jisung groans under his breath, bringing his now slick thumb to his lips and sucking at the digit. then a sigh leaves his mouth, hands moving to pull at the hem of his pajamas.

“can’t fuck you tonight, sweet girl.” he mumbles, leaving you to decide if you want to scoff or cry at the denial. “you’re already so loud, you’ll be screaming if i stick it in. but we can still have fun, yeah? i’ll make you feel good, baby. don’t worry.”

jisung barely gives time for your foggy brain to process the words, sliding his sweats and underwear down to mid thigh and leaving you to gape at his hard cock like a woman starved. jisung is, like, ridiculously big. how did he manage to hide that with all those baggy hoodies? you feel your pussy throb and clench at the mere thought of feeling him stretch you open.

and jisung doesn’t stop- he brings himself closer, spreads your legs so they are wide open and lifted to your chest. one large hand is pressed to the back of your thigh, holding you open, while the other gives lazy attention to his glistening length.

“sung, please-“ you whisper, feeling hot all over and almost possessed. you need him, bad. jisung knows that, too. he knows and all he does to placate you is grin out of the corner of his mouth and grind his hips in a slow, dirty roll forward.

the feeling of his cock, hard and pulsing against your dripping slit with only the dainty fabric of your sheer underwear to separate you, makes you tip your head back in a helpless whimper. he keeps going, grinding his length forward in lazy rolls of his hips, the head of his cock pushing against your clit in a way that makes your head spin. you’re already soaked, panties dripping wet to aid in the glide of jisung’s length, and you can’t help the little gasps leaving your mouth as your hips buck forward.

“ah- yeah baby, just like that,” jisung pants, one arm resting by your head while the other keeps your thigh held up. he grinds into you faster, matching the stuttered pace of your own hips as he bends down to lay messy, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. “keep moving those hips, rockstar. making me feel so good.”

you whimper softly, near pathetic, as your head tilts to the side to give jisung more access to your neck. his mouth moves constantly, licking and biting at the skin with a reckless sort of desperation. he’s wet, too- you can feel the precum dripping from his tip smear against your panties, soaking through to your clit with the rest of the mess you’ve made.

“sung, please- want more,” you whine out, arms wrapping around his neck and nails clawing at his shoulders. he curses, hips bucking harder before he pulls away slightly to look at you.

and you’re a mess. panting for breath, tank top tucked up to rest just under your tits, face and neck flushed, underwear clinging to your soaked cunt and throbbing with need. jisung bites his lip harshly, causing a white indent on the flesh. when he gives his length a slick pump, the sound makes you both whine.

“shit, okay. can’t fuck you but- just a little more,” he’s breathing out, sliding your ruined panties to the side. he groans at the sight, your pussy glistening in the low light as he uses his thumbs to spread you open. you can’t help but clench as his eyes land on your needy hole, moaning a little too loud when long, deft fingers dip inside of you just slightly.

“baby, rockstar-“ jisung is huffing against your ear, fingertips barely pushing in and out of your entrance. “you’re soaked. do you always get this wet, or do you just like me that much, hm?”

you can’t help the whine that leaves you, feeling so on edge but not getting enough stimulation to push you over, embarrassed at the thought of jisung knowing just how much he affects you. “just for you, ji. no one else.”

a moan from above, soft and airy, followed by an equally soft, “good fucking girl.”

jisung’s fingers flit over you, grazing your throbbing clit before lining his leaking cock back up. the feeling of bare skin sliding against bare skin, his slick length nudging your clit and the wet sounds of each roll of your hips makes your whines grow an octave higher. jisung is there to tease you, as always. leaning back into your space, panting into you ear as his length throbs on your pussy, up and down and up and down.

“gotta be quiet rockstar, remember? wouldn’t wanna wake channie-hyung up, would you?”

you remember the situation you’re in with startling clarity. chan, your older brother, in the next room over. jisung, his best friend, sneaking into your bed in the middle of the night and finding you a pathetic, needy mess. somehow, the idea of being caught like this, with jisung over you and his length sliding between your slit, makes you feel that much closer.

“god, please i-“ you break off your begging to moan when the tip of jisung’s cock catches against your entrance- not entering you, but so close. “need you, ji. need you to fuck me, please-“

“shh, sh, sh, baby. how am i supposed to fuck you like this, hm? already so wet, fuck- i’d bust as soon as i stretched you open on it.”

you feel tears build up in your eyes at being denied again, hole clenching at the empty feeling even though you feel so good from the stimulation his hips provide. your clit is hyper-sensitive, every press and push against it making your thighs twitch and shake more. you don’t realize the tears have spilled from your lash line until you feel jisung’s tongue, hot and so wet, sliding against your cheek to clean you up.

“oh, what am i gonna do with you?” jisung is whispering, almost to himself, shuddering into your skin. “fine, shit- okay. just the tip, alright?”

you blink through the daze in your mind, giving jisung a look that attempts a blank stare. “did you learn that from porn, sungie?”

he responds with a scoff, an incredulous raise of his brows. “i mean it! just the tip, baby. no more, wanna hear you scream properly the first time i sink all the way into you.”

oh. yeah, okay.

you feel heat roll through your body, jisung not even moving away from kissing your cheeks and neck as he lines his hard cock up with your entrance, running the tip of his length up and down your slit. finally, finally, pushing inside.

jisung feels huge inside you- after being teased relentlessly for what felt like hours, his cock finally stretching your walls open felt like heaven. but as he said, he thrusts only the tip inside.

“ngh- god, rockstar. you feel so fucking good wrapped around my cock,” jisung is whining, panting against your collarbone. “so tight, trying to suck me in all the way.”

all you can do is muffle your moans against jisung’s shoulder, nails digging into the skin of his lower back where his shirt has ridden up and legs wrapping around his narrow hips. you can feel the ridges on his length, the head of it pressing into you just barely past your entrance before pulling out again. it’s so much, it’s not enough- at this rate you feel the urge to flip positions and push yourself so far down on jisung’s cock you can feel it in your stomach. but your body is useless, thighs trembling from the continued barely-there stimulation, and jisung is murmuring against your ear again.

“wanna know what i said to felix, baby?” he’s asking with a sharp inhale, remembering your conversation from earlier. you’re tempted to scream, tell him you don’t care what he said to felix, you don’t care about felix- or anyone else, for that matter. all you can think about is jisung, jisung, jisung, and the way he could be filling you up so deliciously right now if he would just go a little bit further.

instead, you speak around the whine in your throat. “what?”

jisung fights to keeps his words steady in between little aborted grinds of his hips, fat head of his cock pushing inside you again and again. his hands wandering to your hips, squeezing fingers hard enough to leave indented bruises in their wake.

“he asked me what you felt like, if you were a good- fuck. and i said,” a moan, burying his head in your neck and muffling his words just barely. “said you were the best fuck of my life, rockstar. shit- so tight, so hot- swallowing my cock like this little pussy is starving for it. told him- all he could do was fist his dick and imagine it, you know why?”

jisung pauses the small, fast thrust of his hips. you can’t breathe, can only feel the head of his cock resting at your entrance, barely inside, spreading your folds open. you throb, clenching around the small amount of his length inside you, and his exhale is stuttered before he finishes rambling.

“‘cause you’re mine to fuck, baby. and i’m the only one that gets to make you cry like this.”

there’s a large palm pressing over your mouth as jisung buries his head in the side of your neck, muffling his own long, drawn out groan as he pushes his thick cock inside you- all the fucking way. the hand at your lips barely offers reprieve when you scream, eyes clenching shut at the feeling of finally being so full and stretched open around jisung’s length. delirious, you think you can feel the bulge of it in your lower stomach.

jisung can’t control his hips anymore, biting the skin where your shoulder and neck meet to keep himself somewhat muffled as he snaps in and out of you at a rapid pace, never leaving your soaked pussy more than halfway. your legs are barely holding onto jisung’s hips, ankles weakly hooked at his back, and you pant harshly into the hand around your mouth.

“so, fucking, good-“ jisung moans by your ear, voice low and gravelly and dripping with that same desperate need you feel clawing up your spine. it’s almost too much- the all encompassing stimulation you get to have so suddenly after being teased with the lightest touches for so long. jisung does what he does best, and he makes matters so much worse.

deft fingers reach your clit, throbbing and sensitive to any touch. the response is immediate, lightning curling your toes and making you yelp into the palm over your mouth. jisung chuckles, half breathless and half manic, continuing to ramble on in your ear.

“that’s right rockstar, just keep shaking,” he moans, fingers circling your clit in fast little figure eights. you feel the spark of pleasure in your gut grow bolder, louder, and know you’re close. jisung must know too, you can feel his teeth against your neck as he keeps his pace, hips slamming into you, fingers working you over until your eyes are rolling back and stars are dotting your vision.

the moan that leaves your mouth would surely be loud enough to wake chan up if not for jisung’s hand muffling it. he curses quick, hips stuttering before he’s cumming too- inside you, filling your cunt up in a way that makes you shiver through the last of your own orgasm. jisung thrusts again, riding out his high in a slower, syrupy grind, before he pulls out with one last sigh.

you can feel his release leaking out of your spent pussy, whimpering as the warm air hits your soaked core. jisung moans softly, almost pitifully, thumb running through the mess leaking out of you and smearing it along your slit. then, he has the audacity to pull your panties back into place over the mess. with a quick pat to your ruined underwear and a kiss to your forehead he stands.

the wink he throws you is absurdly nerdy, using both eyes to do so. you roll your eyes but can’t help the fond smile on your face as he pulls the blanket back over you.

“sweet dreams, rockstar.” he whispers, kissing your lips once more and sinking his teeth into the lower one in a tease. you pout as he walks away, looking back at you once more to give a wide grin before dipping out of the room. you hear the soft close of chan’s door before you drift off again, body spent but mind quiet and a small, content smile gracing your lips.

when you wake up, it is to aching muscles and a content, quiet buzz in your head. you stretch, groaning at the sheer amount of bones that pop in your body, before getting up and getting ready for the day. blushing, you remember the messy state your body was left in, showering to get rid of the worst of it. the bruises on your hips and collarbone won’t wash away, but you smile at them before covering them up. you hope they never fade.

downstairs, the house is alive with the sound of two deep voices. you must have slept longer than anticipated, for once waking up after chan. you descend the stairs with your heart beating in your throat, nervous and hoping chan doesn’t immediately clock the sinful thoughts in your head.

“y/n! you slept in late,” chan hums, glancing up from the video game he and jisung are in the middle of. jisung doesn’t tear his eyes away from his character on the screen, but there’s a small twitch to his lips that makes your thighs clench just slightly.

“morning,” you mumble, pouring scalding coffee into one of your favorite mugs. you shuffle into the living room, criss-crossing your legs in the armchair to the left of the couch in use. you don’t know who is playing what character, but isabelle is kicking donkey kong’s ass.

once a winner is announced chan sighs, grinning and allowing jisung to tease him for his apparent loss. then chan turns to you, making his best friend do the same, and you fight the flush threatening to announce suspicion.

“by the way, were you having a nightmare last night?” chan asks, you blinking dumbly at him in response. jisung coughs beside him, poorly attempting to hide the snort of laughter that almost bubbled up.

“no. why?” you ask, fighting to remain normal and like the picture of nonchalance. chan shrugs, turning back to the television like he is none the wiser. he switches his character from donkey kong to link. jisung picks a weird red dragon.

“i was half asleep so i could’ve imagined it, i just thought i heard you talking. sounded like a nightmare,” chan says, mostly focused on the start of a new round.

you hum noncommittally, watching jisung’s character hit a fast combo and KO link. while waiting for chan to respawn, jisung catches your eye with a bitten lower lip that hides a cocky, satisfied grin. he clears his throat softly, throwing his hand up to run through messy hair. on the way back to holding his controller, jisung sneaks his hand to the side of his neck and taps the skin there, flicking his gaze down to your own neck.

your breath hitches when you touch the skin there, feeling the faint thrum of pain from a bruise you know is visible. you raise the collar on your shirt to cover it, quickly looking back to the tv when the next round starts.

“you should try to get more sound sleep,” jisung is speaking now, shrugging like he’s just making conversation. you can only watch his slim fingers flit over the buttons on his controller out of the corner of your eye, ears ringing. “they say working up a sweat beforehand helps you sleep like a baby.”

chan nods, barely paying attention to the conversation as he curses under his breath at the game. jisung glances at his best friend, glancing at you after, and winks.

“if you ever need a tip, just let me know, y/n. i always have time to help.”

han fucking jisung will never stop being a problem. that thought doesn’t feel as heinous as it once had.

a/n: hello lovebugs :3 :3

i can’t help it really i can’t the parasites in my brain take over and move my stupid little thumbs in a way that just writes perv hanji without me even knowing until i see the finished product in my drafts i swear

as always,, requests are open!! i promise i will eventually post the requests that are pending… i just have a worm in my noggin, as previously mentioned

☆ taglist ☆

“Which dress should I wear?” You question. You hold up two dresses in the mirror and place each one in front of your body, eyebrows furrowing as you imagine each one on your figure. You look at your best friend through the mirror, gauging his reaction. 

“Black,” says Han, though he doesn’t look up from his phone. 

“Jisung!” Your sharp tone makes his eyes shoot open wide, a surprised look on his face that you’ve gotten to know well over the years–the one he makes when he knows he’s gotten himself into trouble. “You didn’t even look at the options!” You scoffed at him incredulously. 

“I didn’t have to,” he says snidely. “The red one makes you look sexier, the black one makes you look… I don’t know, sleek?” “Sleek,” you say with a laugh. “Okay, so I should wear the red one!” As you go to hang up the black dress in your closet, your friend appears from behind you. 

“On a first date? You’re not trying to seduce him just yet,” he jokes. 

“But I wanted to look sexy,” you pout. “Plus, you never know–” Before you can finish your sentence, Han snatches the red dress from your grasp and runs out of the room at full speed. Mouth agape, you run after him giggling. Jisung makes some screeching noises as he runs around and he even hops onto the couch, standing above you. You take a moment to keel over, laughing at him while catching your breath. This is something your friend has always been good at doing; making you laugh. Especially on a night like tonight in which you were more nervous than you cared to admit, Jisung knows exactly how to push your buttons and have tears forming in your eyes from his humor. 

“Give me that, please, Sungie. You’re gonna mess it up!” You fake glare at him and cross your arms, watching as he holds the dress up over his head. 

“I can’t believe you’re ditching movie night for some guy,” he says. “Movie night, it’s an annual tradition… to just abandon it… It’s heresy! Heresy I say!” You shake your head at the man before sitting next to him on the couch. He sits as well, abandoning his ridiculous stance, and takes a deep breath next to you. 

You lean your head against his shoulder before sighing. “It’s not just any guy,” you say softly. “Seungmin seems special. I think he really likes me.” Jisung ignores the panging in his chest. The fact of the matter is, Han Jisung is undeniably, uncontrollably in love with you. And normally, he has absolutely no problem with that fact, especially with hiding it from you. But on this night in particular, there is one issue: You are going on a date. 

You’d been on dates before, of course. But not since Jisung has identified his attraction and feelings toward you. And what could he say? That he was jealous, that he wanted you to stay here and get with him instead? Of course not! 

“I… I know, jagiya. Um, you’re going to have a good time,” he replies into your hair. “And hopefully get laid. You’ve been so tense lately.” God, why did he say that? He didn’t want to think about that, especially with a guy that wasn’t him!

You laugh and push his shoulder lightly. “God, I hope so. I just need to be fucked like a slut, you know?” You grin at him widely, but he feels like he might get sick at your words. Usually, the two of you have no problem joking with one another, and yes, maybe 50% of the time your jokes are rather explicit, but Jisung can’t help but run a hand through his hair and take a deep breath at your words. 

“Don’t say that,” he groans, albeit with a weak smile. 

“Ughhh, but Sungie…” you laugh. “You know I’m joking but it’s been so long… I do want to be folded in half like a pancake–” 

He lets out a nervous laugh and holds his hand over your mouth. 

“Seriously, gross,” he says. You lick his hand. In disgust, he gets up, handing you the red dress in the process. 

“Thank you!” you preen at your friend and jump up, running to your room to get ready for your date. He follows to watch and lay on your bed. 

You look stunning in the red dress, of course. He knew you would. But coupled with the lipstick, the hair, your perfume… it makes his heart pang and sit heavily in his chest. 

You are in a rush. As you say goodbye to your friend and start to lock up, he pulls you into a tight hug, 

“Sung… You’re not seriously mad about movie night, right?” You laugh against him but feel yourself growing red at the proximity. You can smell his shampoo from here, and his embrace is so tight, his arms wrapped around you so tight that it makes you gulp. You push him away slightly just so you can look in his eyes. 

“No, of course not,” he says, but he’s slightly pouting. You would’ve missed it if you weren’t paying close attention to his face, and if you didn’t know each of his expressions like the back of your hand. “Just… I hope you have a good time tonight. Text me if you need me, kay? And turn your location on… just in case he’s really a serial murderer or something.” 

“Alright, you got it. Thanks so much for coming over,” you say as you lock your front door, allowing your friend to leave the house with you. 

“You never have to thank me,” he reminds you.  ***

The date went alright.  Seungmin was a sweet guy, he really was. He took you out to a nice restaurant and he flirted with you,  he made you smile, and he was just the epitome of a gentleman. But, you realized there just wasn’t a spark. Something was missing. There were no butterflies, no rush from your heart to let you know he was the one. And you told him as much at the end of the night. There were no hard feelings, really. 

So why do you still feel so damn emotional? 

As you step into your house, you pull out your phone and you’re texting Jisung before you even realize what you’re doing. 

Y/N:  Can you come over? 

Sungie: Already OMW! 

You’re laying on the couch, sulking emotionally. You half debate cracking open a bottle of wine to drink your sorrows away but decide against it. 

Instead, you wipe away small tears and hold yourself back from sniffling. Jisung bursts in your front door, looking around frantically. The sight makes you hiccup laugh through your tears and he’s running to you, kneeling in front of you on the couch. 

“Fuck, jagiya, are you okay? Did he hurt you? I’ll kill him, I’ll really kill him, I promise… Well, maybe not kill him, but I swear I’ll really hurt him…” He starts rambling and it makes you laugh. 

“I’m fine, Ji. He didn’t hurt me… The date actually went really well.”

“Oh,” he says, letting out a sigh of relief. He looks into your eyes. “Shit. You scared me. What happened?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Bull shit, or you wouldn’t have called me over,” he says. He puts his hands on your knees and his head on the couch, looking up at you. 

“Just… we didn’t click. He was so sweet. He still paid after I told him I didn’t want another date, which was really nice… Is there something wrong with me?” You ask. You look into his eyes and he swears he could split in half, your teary doe eyes making him want to burst into tears himself. 

“Of course not, why would there be?” He questions. 

“Just… It’s been over a year since I’ve had sex, even longer since I’ve dated someone… I finally get to go on a date with a nice, hot guy, and I completely blow it. What if that was my last shot? What if nobody wants me?” You wipe a tear away. 

“Don’t say that,” he says sharply. Your eyes widen. In all the time that you’ve known Jisung, his demeanor has always been relaxed, joking, and somewhat aloof. So for him to be so blunt and sharp with you? It makes you tense up. “That isn’t true.” 

“How do you even know that?” You cross your arms at him and shoot him what you hope is a nasty glare but you know it probably comes across as much more pathetic.

“Because I love you.” 

You scoff at him. “Han Jisung, if this is some sort of sick joke you better count your days, because that’s a really fucking low blow after tonight.” 

“Y/N, I would never joke about this. I love you much more than you could ever realize. I have loved you for so long… It hurts. I have wanted to tell you for so long, but I was so scared of messing up our friendship. There’s nothing more in this world that I love more than your smile, more than making you laugh.” He pauses, gauging your reaction. For once, he truly doesn’t know what you’re thinking and it scares him, but he continues anyway. “Just… The thought of you going out on that date tonight, it made me so sick. The thought of you kissing someone that wasn’t me… God, you didn’t kiss him, did you? Argh, that would make me so sad… But I just… I don’t even know the guy and I couldn’t help but think that I would be better for you. That he wouldn’t be able to make you laugh, and he wouldn’t know how absolutely ridiculous you look when you dance while you’re drunk, and he wouldn’t know that Saturday nights are our movie nights, and he wouldn’t know that you say your favorite color is lavender, but it’s actually–” 

You cut off the man by lunging forwards onto the floor and pressing your lips into his. The kiss is searing and all-consuming and he pulls you forward until you’re in his lap. As you straddle him he holds your head in his hands, brushing hair behind your ears as he brings you further into him. You’re both emotional and out of breath but so desperate to have things keep moving forward that when you open your mouth to deepen the kiss, it’s all tongue and teeth and heavy breathing but holds more feeling behind it than any kiss you’ve ever had. 

“Jisung…” you whisper, pulling away. He looks at you with wide eyes, pupils blown out. He’s panting and his hands take place on your arms, holding you in place as he searches deep into your eyes. 

He pulls you into a deep embrace reminiscent of the one you shared just this afternoon. 

“I feel the same… I think the reason why my date went so poorly is because he wasn’t you.” You hear his breath hitch and he pulls you impossibly closer, looking deep into your eyes before pulling you into another kiss. This one is more gentle and chaste but fills you with desire nonetheless. “I didn’t kiss him, by the way,” you say. Your statement puts Jisung at ease. “You’re the only one I want to kiss, Sung.” 

You kiss him again but start to trail down his neck, leaving wet open kisses behind. Jisung is a panting, moaning mess beneath you, and his noises encourage you to go further. You lift his shirt up over his head and press your crotch into his, relishing in the sounds he makes as you kiss his chest, his collarbones, and his abdomen before you feel a hand weave itself into your hair, pulling you harshly. 

“Still want to be fucked like a slut?” His words make you gasp. 

“Ji, I was joking,” you say, but his hand pulls tighter on your hair, revealing your neck to him; wet open-mouthed kisses and tongue pressing against your neck releases a loud, nasty moan from your lips. 

“You can’t lie to me, baby,” he says into your skin. “We’ve joked about it too many times for it to really be a joke. Can you answer me? Do you want to be fucked like a slut? Say the word and we can stop.” He lifts up your dress and throws it off of your head almost comedically, and it would have made you laugh if you weren’t now on complete display for the man. 

“Yes… please.” That was all the word Jisung needed to go forth and absolutely ravish you, taking your body as if it were his own. He sucks small marks against your skin, guiding your hips to rock into his own in steady movements. Meanwhile, he unclasps your bra, discarding it to God knows where, paying full attention to your now exposed skin. 

“So beautiful… God you’re making me feel so good, grinding against me so good baby… I’ll cum soon, I’ll cum in my pants if we don’t stop,” he rambles. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, paying it full attention while teasing the other with his thumb. Your head falls back from the pleasure, from the enticing man underneath you that you’ve known for so long, for the man who’s cologne has been engraved in your brain for years but only now does it make you feel needier with lust and desire when it floods your senses. Suddenly, he lifts you off of his hips with alarming force, placing you to sit on the couch while he remains underneath you on the floor. 

“Please, can I eat you out? Let me make you feel good baby, please,” he begs, rubbing small circles onto your thigh. You nod your head at him, lifting your hips and your underwear is removed in an instant. 

He dives forward, wasting no time before connecting his mouth to your glistening core. You moan loudly at the contact and his arms reach forward to pull you closer to his face. His wide eyes meet yours and he grins, absolutely deriving his own pleasure off of yours and the way you squirm beneath him. He eats you out in a way that is similar to his personality; it is messy, it is eager, and it is all-consuming. His tongue flicks desperately against your clit and you buck your hips up into his face but he holds you down easily, forcing you to take what he gives. His tongue switches between teasing your entrance and giving your clit his direct and undivided attention, and the pace makes you feel dizzy. 

“Please, please,” you say, and you’re not even sure what you’re begging for. He changes the angle suddenly, pressing your legs up to your head so that you’re completely at his mercy. He spits right onto your aching hole, the act crude but making you moan nonetheless. Immediately he dives back in, holding your legs as he sucks and flicks at your clit until you’re shaking from overstimulation.

You try to warn him but it’s too late, you’re thrown over the edge with a loud sigh. He guides you through it, lapping at you languidly with his tongue as you pulse against him from aftershocks. He releases from you and the lack of contact makes you feel antsy, immediately wanting more, immediately craving that contact again. 

“Jisung,” you breathe out. “Again… want to feel you again, please. Need you… touching me, please.” He wastes no time before pulling his pants and boxers down in one swift blow and you moan at the sight of him naked before you. You reach to touch him and stroke his cock but he stops you, guiding you to your feet. Your legs tremble but he holds you steady. 

“What are you–” you begin to ask, but he shushes you, grabbing your hips and bending you over the side of the couch. He pushes your back down so that you’re arching for him, ass pressed up in the air. 

“M just giving you what I promised,” he says, rubbing your back almost soothingly as he teases your entrance with his cock. Every time he makes contact you hiss and try to press back into him, but to no avail. “You made me wait this long to let me fuck your pretty pussy babe, should I make you wait too?” 

His words make you moan out, and you’re babbling before you even realize it. “Jisung, Sungie, no please… Please Ji… I need you so bad… Please let me… Please don’t make me wait… Fuck… Please…”

His laugh is airy, as if you’ve knocked all of the air out of his lungs. You tilt your head back, trying desperately to see his face, and his expression is exactly how you imagined it; desperate, incredulous, lips parted open in a small ‘o’ shape. That’s the last thing you see before he presses his full length into you and your eyes screw shut from pleasure. 

He immediately groans out, trying to stay still but desperately rocking his hips into you deeper, right against your g-spot which makes your eyes roll back and tighten around him. In turn, he begins sharply rutting right against your hips, shallow but deep. 

“Fuck, fuck, jagiya. You feel… so good. Just like how I imagined,” he starts. “Your pussy… God, it was made for me to fuck… For me to fuck you dumb.” He is stuttering and rambling but you don’t even care, his words, soft moans, and pants making you feel incredibly needier. He reaches forward and pulls you up against him, grabbing your head and meeting your lips into a blinding and messy kiss as he fucks you. It makes your head reel and his hands find your tits and grab them hard for just a second as he finds his pace but the overstimulation makes you go stupid with desire. 

Just as fast, he pushes you into the couch again. He grabs both of your wrists from behind and pulls them into his hand, using the momentum as a way to let himself fuck into you harder and deeper. You’re crying now, tears flowing from your face from pleasure and letting out noises that you didn’t know you could make, loud ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ from every thrust of his hips into yours. 

“Please tell me you’re close, baby,” he says shakily. “Fuck, I don’t think I can last much longer.” His words make you close your legs together as he fucks you, the friction sending you even closer to the edge. 

“So close, Sung, please.” Your words barely escape your mouth but you know he hears you, as his hands take place on your hips now, his death grip searing as he pulls you all the way on and off of his length, slamming into you at full force. 

“Cumming,” you say, and you can only warn him the one time before you’re spasming and convulsing all over his cock, his soft and gentle praise guiding you through it in complete contrast to his harsh actions against your body. You’re still pulsing with aftershocks as he groans, pulling out of you and releasing all over your back in hot spurts. As the two of you catch your breath, he immediately pulls you into a kiss again, gentle yet passionate. 

“I love you so much,” he says. “Wanted to do that for so long. Wanted you. Wanted you to be mine and wanted you to know how much I love you.” His eyes meet yours, searching, waiting for a response. 

“I love you too, Jisung.” He smiles and his eyes close, relishing in the fact that finally, you are now undeniably his. 

He cleans you up and guides you into your room, pulling you into his arms. Your head rests on his chest and your limbs are an intertwined mess, unable to differentiate where you start and Jisung ends. That night you watch your movie, the way it was destined to be all along. Jisung’s jokes make you laugh until you cry, and this time he is able to tell you that making you smile is one of the greatest pleasures he has ever been graced with in his life, and he tells you this with a kiss pressed against your mouth. ***

"No, need more, please I need him" you whimpered.

Jeongin knew he should have walked away, he shouldn't be peeping from the crack in the door, but he couldn't help it. You looked so fucking good as drool was pressed against your face.

"Yeah, you need Jeongin to fuck you too? Is that why you always ask him for help to carry things? Want to see him toss you around next"

"Yes!" you moaned as Seungmin hit that deep spot inside of your cunt.

Jeongin said "fuck all" to every ounce of common sense in his body and barged into Seungmin's room, taking off his shirt before you or Minnie could register what was going on.

"I guess all your wishes are coming true" Seungmin whispered into your ear, causing you to look at him with a confused look splayed on your face, only to see Jeongin next to him, pulling down his shorts and boxers, his leaking cock hitting his stomach.

He was huge, a bit shorter than Min, but a hell of a lot thicker. Your eyes bulged out at the sight of it, causing him to chuckle.

"Thanks for stretching her out hyung, now let me show her what a real cock feels like." He groaned, slamming the entirety of his cock inside of you before you could even say anything.

"Look at her being a cock drunk whore" Seungmin tsks as Jeongin trusted harshly inside of you, his cock making you see stars.

"Fuck, she's so tight even though you just fucked her. This is such a good pussy, can't believe you were hiding it from me" Jeongin groaned, slapping his hips against your ass harder.

You couldn't even reply, too immersed in the feeling of Jeongin hitting all the spots inside of you that drove you wild.

"Too much" you whined as he brought his hand down to your clit.

"You are going to take it baby" Jeongin replied, not faltering his pace "My fucked out baby just said that Minnie's cock isn't enough and is now complaining that my big fat cock inside of you is too much. Guess you don't deserve to cum"

"No please, I'm so sorry Innie, feels so good, please let me cum" you whined, thrusting back into him to try and get any sort of friction.

"Ask your sir" he chuckled, grabbing your hair so your face was looking directly at Seungmin, your eyes meeting his.

"Please sir, may I cum, please need to cum" you whined, waiting for Seungmin's response.

What felt like an eternity was only a few seconds for Minnie to nod his head yes, allowing you to cum around Jeongin's cock.

"Fuck!" he groaned, feeling himself get closer.

Right before he could cum, he pulled his cock out of you, cumming all over your back, causing both you and Minnie to moan audibly.

You were still in awe.

You started your career as an idol fairly late in the game, making you older than most. But, when you entered the world of K-pop, you knew this was what you were meant to do. You were already creating music since you were young, and how hard could it be?

Very.

There were days as a trainee when you felt like giving up. You left your friends and family back home to pursue your dream, and after years, you still felt like you were right back at the same spot you started. Never moving. Stagnant.

That's when you discovered Stray Kids. Watching their debut to where they are now. It motivated you.

Then, one day, your company announces that they want you to lead a team. They presented you with suitable candidates for your girl group, but something in you felt like something wasn't right. "Sorry," you apologize to your board. "But, if I may be so bold as to recruit my own members?"

You wanted a family. Craved friendship beyond just another gig. And, well, let's say it worked out very well for you.

This brings you to the present day--standing in DIV studio, surrounded by its members, to do an interview. Your group was just starting out and already doing well. You've posted a couple of dance practices and some ballad covers you performed as a group, tracking some major views across all social media. DIV wanted to be the first to be a part of the soon-to-be international hype.

"You ready?" Eric smiled at you as the crew set up your microphone. You nodded happily. The rest of your group couldn't make it due to schedule. It felt weird not having the rest of your girls around you, but knew this wasn't an opportunity you just passed up.

Time passes, and so far, the interview is going great. It was amazing being around like-minded people. And, it was also nice being able to curse and not have to worry about your 'imagine' among them. They were free to be who they wanted. They wanted to break the mold; conformity was not in their dictionary. It took a while to let your company agree to the interview in the first place, but this was the direction you wanted to take the group. To be yourself and just produce music.

"Okay, so next up is the heart rate challenge." Eric smiled. You were divided into teams; you and Eric vs. Peniel and BM. The winner would be dubbed by the lowest combined heart rate.

"You're going down!" BM teased as Peniel hyped him up in the back. You grin brightly.

"Considering you boys are literally jumping around before the monitor is even placed, I think it's safe to say we'll win."

"Oh okay, that's how it's gonna be??" Peniel laughed. "Then let's make a bet; the loser buys everyone barbeque!"

Eric and you agreed in a heartbeat. You were already craving galbi and rice. Peniel essentially just bought the dinner you were going to buy tonight anyway.

As the heart monitors are placed, you try your best to stay calm. You were an anxious person in general, but when push comes to shove, you always had a way of relaxing yourself.

Peniel and BM went first. Eric and you teased them relentlessly during their time duration of 5 minutes. Peniel started blushing during his time up when you started throwing winks and kisses his way. Their combined score was 250.

"That's not far!" Peniel groaned as the video crew asked for a short break to recalibrate their equipment. "She's too cute, like how does someone not get flustered?"

"It's all fun and games in love and war," you winked at him. Everyone laughed except Peniel, who just took out his phone and pouted. His fingers typed furiously on his keyboard. Once it was time to get the cameras rolling again, Peniel had a knowing smirk on his face. You couldn't help but wonder what he was concocting. You just knew he was plotting his revenge against you.

Eric went first. Despite the constant harassment Peniel and BM gave him, you couldn't help but laugh at their jabs. "You're supposed to be on my team!" Eric roared at you at his last 10 seconds on the clock. Despite everything, his heart rate totaled to 120. All you had to do was ignore the comments for a minute. You got this. You sat down in the middle of the floor and crossed your legs, getting in an almost meditative position. The rest followed. Then the buzzer started.

"So," Peniel started as soon as the timer started going. "You learned Korean by yourself, right?"

You shot him a distrusting glance. "Yes..."

Peniel and BM nodded their heads slowly. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very interesting." Eric shot you a glance. He could feel it, too. Based on how the two acted Eric's turn was completely different, they were calm. Too calm. They were up to something.

"One might say," Peniel feigned thoughtfulness by stroking his chin. "You had an interest in learning Korean before you even had thought of becoming a trainee."

Crap. He saw the clip.

Before your group days, you would do little lives here and there. Just want to document your early days and interact with anyone who wants to chat. During that time, you mentioned the real reason you learned Korean was to easily watch interviews without the need for subtitles. Then you casually mentioned how much of a fan you were for a certain boy group. Your fans, which was very little back then, took those clips and circulated them online. Which was fine. It gained some traction that you were a STAY and helped grow your platform. It was a bit embarrassing, essentially admitting that you only learned the language to watch their episodes and lives to get full context. But, hey, it also helped you get to where you are today.

Getting bullied by two idols so they don't have to pay for your dinner.

"Yes, Peniel. I learned Korean so I can watch Stray Kids' interviews live." You roll your eyes but keep track of where your monitor is. 95bpm. Not bad. So long as you stayed below 130, that galbi was yours.

Peniel and BM continued to stroke their chins. "Interesting"/"Yes, yes, very... Stray Kids fan. Very cool"

Peniel held up a finger before leaving the room. You looked around at the crew, confused. Eric laughed and peered after him; "Where is he going?"

His question was answered as Peniel stepped back into the room with a shorter figure behind him. You moved around to peer behind Peniel, and when you locked eyes with the guest, your heart rate shot up. 110bpm.

Eric and BM rose to give a small bow when Chan said his hellos. You stayed still in your place. Embarrassment immediately washed over you. But you took a deep breath in and out, 3 minutes until you can freak out. 3 minutes, and you can process every single emotion you are feeling.

Chan gave you a little wave, his dimples showing as he smiled. Ugh, he might as well shoot you in the heart right now.

"You're not gonna stand up?" Peniel teased. You immediately shook your head. As much as you wanted to say hi, dinner was calling your name. Seeing Chan in the flesh was amazing. But Galbi beat everything at this moment. BM smiled brightly and motioned for Chan to take a seat next to you. How sweet.

2 minutes. 115bpm.

You bowed your head slightly to say hello, still a bit too stunned to speak. Chan gave a small head bow back. "Sorry about this," he chuckled. You told him it was okay, but still unable to make eye contact. Despite that, you knew he looked incredible. He always did.

Focus! You tried to snap yourself out of it and took deep breaths. In and out. In and out.

"So... you learned Korean to watch us live? That's sweet," Chan felt awkward all of a sudden. When Peniel texted him, this wasn't what he expected to be doing during the interview. "How many languages do you know?"

You close your eyes and focus back on the game. Here you were making casual conversation, while 3 other idols were jabbing at you, trying to get your heart rate back up. "Four; English, Korean, Japanese, and Spanish."

"Holy crap, how is it going down?!" Eric looked at the monitor and backed up at you. You kept your eyes closed, trying to maintain a steady rhythm. Everyone but Chan was losing their shit.

You could hear BM jump to his feet. The impending doom of a very large bill drove his heart rate up. "Chan, do something!" He exclaimed in Korean. Chan giggled next to you; "What? What do I do?"

"Hit on her!" Peniel got up as well. All attention is now on Chan. Eric stood up and pointed at the two competitors; "Hey! Hey! You leave her alone!"

You couldn't help but chuckle; "I was subscribed to his bubble. I was in the trenches with the rest of STAY. There's nothing he can say that I haven't heard."

Chan clicked his teeth with his tongue. His eyes narrowed. A challenge. He looked at you, with your eyes still closed, before casting his gaze over at Eric. "Anyway, we can mute our mics for a sec?"

Your eyes shot open.

1 minute. 120bpm.

BM ran over to mute your mic. As soon as he backed up, Chan leaned in close to your ear. His breath tickled your cheek, and you had to close your eyes again. 125 bpm. 30 seconds.

"I bet I can make you scream in Korean."

Chan wasn't expecting you to turn your head so quickly towards him. The way your face flushed. Your eyes wide. Everything about you was making his heart race. You locked eyes with him and felt like you couldn't breathe. This was it. That free galbi was gone.

The buzzer went off.

Everyone turned to the monitor.

129bpm.

You shot up from your seat and hugged Eric. Peniel and BM groaned at their loss. Chan laughed as he watched the two of you jumping around, singing about free barbeque.

He took a moment to sneak a look at you, his gaze traveling up and down. The way your hair bounced with you and how your outfit was snuggling your curves just right. He stood up as Eric said their sign-off. Once the cameras were shut off, the teasing started between the four. Peniel placed his arm around the younger idol and pulled him in a side hug. "It's okay," he reassured Chan. "It's not entirely your fault. A good majority of it. But, not fully."

Chan laughed and rolled his eyes. Everyone came up to thank him for coming over. That's when he locked eyes with you again, giving him a bright smile.

You gave the bow you weren't able to give before, formally introducing yourself. You all talked for a bit until you felt your hunger start to spike up; "Okay, so when are we getting dinner?"

The group settled for a time later tonight so everyone could get ready. BM invites Chan to tag along.

"No no," Chan shook his head, not wanting to impose. Peniel tickled his stomach as the rest of the group tried to get him to agree. You couldn't help but chime in. Part of you being selfish and wanting to spend more time with him and also wanting to get a jab in at Peniel and BM; "Come on, it'll be fun. And free!"

Chan looked at you. It was subtle, but his cheeks turned a bit red. "Y-yea, okay."

Chan made his way back to his dorm. The rest of the members who share the space are away on their own schedules. It was rare for Chan to spend the night alone.

He groaned as he plopped on the couch. He was still a bit jet lagged from flying from NYC back home. Laying his head on the back of the couch, he tried to take a nap before having to get ready to head out for dinner with you and the rest of the group.

You.

His mind was restless, and for some reason, they kept fluttering back to you. No matter how much he tried to push them out, he couldn't stop thinking about your big doe eyes. The way your breath hitched as he leaned in. The perfume you were wearing.

Was it Channel? Gucci? Whatever it was, it was flowery like a spring day. He could still smell it on his clothes oh so slightly.

Biting his lower lip, he got up from his seat and headed to the shower. The warm water was welcoming as he tried to clear his head. Unfortunately, it seemed there was only one thing to rid him of these thoughts.

The amount of guilt he felt once he stroked his cock to the thought of you was soon discarded as his mind wandered even more.

What were you like? Did you relinquish control or demand it? Were your lips as soft as he can imagine? Your mouth--oh God. How would it feel to have it wrapped around him? Were you a moaner? A screamer? Could he scramble your brain so much that you scream for him in Korean? Would you come in multiple languages?

He sped up his pace even faster. Water cascaded down his back as he faced the tile bathroom wall. One hand on the structure to ground him as he lost himself at the thought of you. He leaned his head back as he felt himself building and building. The warm water was a comforting feeling on his scalp.

The way he would take you as soon as you entered the dorm. No words, just a clash of flesh as he stripped you of your clothes and bent you over the couch. He wouldn't waste any time and would just thrust into your--oh God. How would you feel around his dick? How tight--

He muffled a moan as he came on his hand. The shower washed away any evidence of his inappropriate thoughts of you. He panted heavily and stood under the water for a couple of moments, pleasure rippling through him soon to be replaced with an abundant amount of guilt for getting off to someone he barely knew.

Maybe that was the thrill of it. Maybe the thought of having someone who didn't know his ups and downs is what did it for him.

Chan didn't have time to dwell on the thought as the time to meet up was fast approaching. And he hated to admit, but the thought of seeing you made his now softening cock twitch.

By the time Chan arrived at the restaurant, platters and drinks were spread across the shared table. BM and Peniel bought out a room so they could enjoy their meal without prying eyes. Chan could hear them hollering in the room before he even opened the door. His ears rang as they all loudly greeted him.

"Look who finally made it!" Peniel laughed as Chan took a seat across from them. Eric and BM were putting meat on the grill as they said their greetings. Chan couldn't help but scan the room, taking note that you weren't there. He tried to play it cool as he asked if you were running late.

"She texted us saying there was something she needed to finish up at home," BM answered him. Eric couldn't help but wiggle his eyebrows at Chan.

"Why? Scared she might not come?"

"No, no." Chan chuckled awkwardly while looking off to the side. "Was just wondering, is all."

The boys all made cooing noises. A flush of embarrassment washed over Chan at their teasing. Peniel smirked; "Wouldn't blame you, she's gorgeous!"

Chan poured himself a shot of soju, trying his best to drown out their teasing and take the stress away. The three men quit their teasing and talked about mundane things; schedules, new music coming out, and how big the bags under Chan's eyes were.

"I just flew back from New York!"

"Doesn't matter! Ever heard of eye cream!"

They were laughing at one another by the time you entered the room. Everyone stood up to greet you with a bow, and you bowed back. Gesturing for them to take their seats again. "Sounds like a party in here," you smiled as you took a seat next to Chan. He took note of how you wore your hair up in a messy bun, showing off your silver necklace. That flowery smell radiated off of you, and he had to lean a bit to the side so it didn't flood his senses in all the right ways.

"Is that soju or vodka?" You spot a filled shot glass from across the table. "Actually, it doesn't matter. Hand me it."

Chan watched you down the shot with a smile and motioned for Eric to pour you another one. "Hard day?"

The second shot went down a bit smoother and you gave him a grin. "You can say that."

He didn't need to know that the line he whispered in your ear had stressed you out to your core. It was possibly the hottest thing any man has ever said to you. It was all you could think about by the time you reached your dorm. His voice echoed in the back of your mind causing your body to feel hot.

He didn't need to know the real reason why you were late to dinner.

That you were squirming on your bed, rubbing yourself furiously between your legs. Trying to get all the tension out of your body before having to see him again.

And now you were sitting next to him. The man responsible for one of the best solo sessions in your life.

"I mean, I did have to spend half the day with these three." You gestured to the rest of the group who just booed at you. Eric rolled up a napkin and threw it your way, causing you to laugh.

As you and the group ate and drank, the room was beginning to get louder and louder. It wasn't long until everyone became tipsy.

You just finished cooking up your Galbi and offered it to the rest of the group who everyone, except Chan, declined. You used the tongs to bring it over to his plate before attempting to cut it. "Damn things," you huffed under your breath. The scissors were dull and worn out. Trying to cut through the meat was as effective as slicing a rib-eye with a spoon.

"Here," Chan grabbed the tongs and scissors from your hand. Despite the very brief time that his fingers brushed yours, you couldn't help but blush a bit as he gave you your half. You didn't have time to feel embarrassed as you caught Eric eyeing the two of you. He had his fingers interlaced and resting his head on them.

"You two look cute together~"

"Shut up," you mumble and grab some kimchi to add to your plate.

Chan sat quietly next to you. He plopped some food in his mouth, the best excuse he had to not comment. BM chuckled before pouring another round of drinks. "What did you say to her anyway? Peniel was screaming so loud I couldn't even hear it."

The two of you were sitting so close to one another, that you could feel Chan stiffen next to you. No doubt, wanting to avoid another round of ridicule from his colleagues.

"Awe, jealous he wasn't whispering in your ear instead?"

That snarky reply was all it took for the other two boys to holler and tease the living crap out of him. As the night progressed, soon talk of continuing the party commenced. Chan mentioned he had a free dorm tonight.

"You in?"  Eric asked you. You looked up from your plate of Galbi and rice. You were so distracted by your plate that you didn't realize they were all waiting for your answer. You hesitated. You obviously had this attraction to Chan since the interview. Hell since even before you became a trainee. The frustration of him being so near, mixed with alcohol, might just be the equation for something disastrous.

Chan bit his lower lip while sneaking a glance at you. He knew it was stupid to invite everyone over. To invite you over. He was already feeling the effects of drinking so much, trying to keep pace with everyone. What if he slipped up? Did something that made you hate him?

But then a wonderful thought popped into his mind: What if something amazing happened?

"It'll be fun," Chan gave you his shy grin. Your heart raced as you two locked eyes. How could you say no to that face?

"You got this," you whispered to yourself as you stood in front of Chan's door. It wasn't every day you're invited to a celebrity's apartment. Especially one that you've imagined in bed with when you're stressed out after work. Everyone left in their own taxi after dinner, planning to meet up at Chan's. You stayed a bit behind to make some phone calls to your family overseas, promising that you would be there soon. "Totally normal get-together. Nothing to worry about."

After a couple of seconds, you gather enough courage to knock on the door. A moment or two the door swings open and Chan stands there. God, he looked great with his messy hair, black tee, and joggers. Giving him that ready-for-bed look--

"Wait, were you asleep?"

Chan's face turned red. He was in bed. But he definitely wasn't sleeping.

"They didn't text you? They got a call on the way over, their schedule moved up earlier in the morning so they headed back home."

Oh.

You pull out your phone and groan. "Batteries dead." You just had to make those calls? You knew your mom could talk your ear off.

"Sorry," you put the phone back in your pocket. Taking a step back, you start to head out. "Have a good night."

"Wait!" He couldn't just let you leave. It could be from all the alcohol, but watching you saunter away felt wrong. He wanted you near him. To stay. "It's late... You can charge your phone and call a cab here if you want."

You didn't fight it. You know you should've. Chan was right, it was late. The responsible thing to do would be to go home. But that didn't stop you from sitting on his couch waiting for your phone to charge enough to call your ride. The two of you scrolled through YouTube on his TV, chatting about anything that came to mind as you both sipped on some mixed drinks Chan concocted when you first entered the apartment.

It was weird. Without the others, conversation flowed almost naturally between you two.

"You mean to tell me, you've never watched any of your own fan cams?!" You exclaimed. Chan shook his head and laughed shyly.

"No, it felt weird watching close-ups of myself if that makes sense?"

"You really should, they always look phenomenal!"

You grabbed the remote to scroll through the recommended videos to watch. Chan took the opportunity took look you over for the umpteenth time tonight. Here he was just in joggers and an oversized shirt while you sported a cute long-sleeved crop top and tight jeans. He had to grab the pillow next to him to cover up the bulge he was sporting.

You settled on a music video by RenMakesMusic.  The strum of the guitar had Chan bobbing his head along to the beat. The lyrics were a bit dark but meaningful. "This is good," Chan mused. "Turn it up a bit."

You gladly obliged with a smile, pressing the remote's volume button so his subwoofers would have to do some heavy lifting. Music filled the apartment as the two of you watched the video. You didn't realize it initially, but your shoulder pressed against his. You slowly shifted to your right, to create distance not trying to give him the wrong impression, but were surprised when he leaned back into you. It was comforting.

It was right.

"Everything okay?"

Chan's question broke through your mind wandering. You felt your cheeks heat up a bit. "Y-yea, um. Where's the bathroom?"

"Down the hall, to the right."

Chan watched as you made your way to the guest bathroom. He couldn't help but keep his eyes on your backside. Once you disappeared, he leaned further back into the couch and groaned.

What was he doing? Letting you in this late, checking you out when you weren't looking, trying to get any physical contact no matter how little it was. It was stress, it had to be. His schedule has been so hectic lately his body was trying to find relief since his mind was almost running amock. Chan was so lost in thought that he let YouTube play on in the background. Not paying much attention to what was playing.

When you exited the bathroom, you were greeted with bongos and macarenas bouncing through the dorm. Peaking around the corner you spotted Chan leaning against the couch. He had his head back against the rest, his eyes closed. But despite his worn-down posture, he was still tapping his foot to the beat. "Aw, come on--you call that dancing?"

Your voice brought back his focus. His side smile gave you butterflies and you couldn't help but wear your own when he quipped; "Like you know how to dance to this?"

"Alright, Christopher. Get up." You grabbed the remote next to him and turned up the stereo even more. Hopefully, anyone living above or below the apartment wouldn't be able to hear how the bass shook the walls.

His grin widened at the name change. Almost nobody called him that anymore. There was a fine line between 'Chan' and 'Christopher', one that you seemed to be willing to cross.

What else were you willing to do?

Your hand was extended to him as you stood above him from his seat. The gleam in your eye was bright, almost playful. There was this weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Bubbly and light. How the light casts around your silhouette made him realize why he felt the way he did when his eyes locked on you.

You were a goddess.

"You just gonna sit there? Come on, get up."

He didn't know what you said, but by the way, you grabbed onto his hand and pulled him from his seat, he knew he was in no position to argue.

You were a tough dance instructor. You corrected almost every misstep in Spanish. He couldn't comprehend your scolding, but he'll be damned to admit that at this point, he was doing it on purpose. There was something incredibly hot about being reprimanded in an unknown language.

"Dear all that is mighty," you sighed. "You're too stiff, loosen up a bit. Here, why don't you take the lead instead."

That caused his brain to malfunction a bit. He stuttered like a middle school kid being asked to dance for the first time. Without waiting for a reply, you grab his hands in yours and guide them on your body.  His hold on your waist was firm, but not too tough. He didn't want to scare you away. Not when he was so close to you he could smell your shampoo. Especially, not when you wrapped your arms around his neck and those eyes of yours were peering into his soul as you two stepped to the fast beat.

"Feel how my hips are moving?"

Oh, you bet he does.

Pushing those thoughts away, Chan tried to mimic your movement. "That's better!" You praised it, and it took everything in him not to press his body flush against yours right at that moment. He hated to admit it, but as the next song played, something with a slower tempo, every step you took with him around the living room, he somehow magically ended up closer to you.

This is the part where both of you could blame the alcohol.

You both were too inebriated to notice the fact that your phone was fully charged, that your fingers started to play with the bottom of his hair, or the fact that your faces were so close together. Chan's forehead rested on yours as the playlist finally died down to a softer ballad. YouTube ironically telling you two to slow down. But neither showing signs of listening.

"We...are going down a path you might regret." Chan closed his eyes to help steady his breathing. How were you able to do this earlier today? He felt like his heart was going to combust on the spot.

"That I might regret?" You whispered. Being this close to him felt surreal. You were sure you were about to wake up in your bed feeling very frustrated. "You won't?"

The feel of the pressure of your body was draining all his excitement from his chest to his dick. Another form of pressure was beginning to press against his underwear. A flood of penance sprung as quickly as his blood flowed to his quickening erection. "We just barely met. We don't know each other."

You pull away slightly so you can look up at him.

"Then, get to know me."

Chan knew this wasn't what you meant. But, it was too late to turn back now.

You were half-naked, a trail of clothes leading to his room.

For every question he asked, an article of your outfit was essentially ripped off you. Every question you answered, you returned the favor.

"Favorite food?" Whoops, there goes that necklace.

"Beef jerky with sticky rice." Goodbye, Chan's shirt!

He kissed you deeply and backed you up towards his bed. A brief pause as you fell into the soft cushions and he stared down at you. Your lips were puffy, chest rising and falling as you were trying to catch your breath. As much as he reveled in the thought of you being a goddess, there was something about bringing down a higher power that made him absolutely feral. Breaking you down bit by bit with every question. 

He climbed on the bed to hover over you, that stupid side smile making another appearance for the night. "That's not exactly a 'food', more of a meal."

"Sorry if I'm--ah. A bit distracted." You close your eyes as he attaches his lips right below your ear. Sucking on your soft skin, not hard enough to leave bruising, but a temporary mark just for his eyes. 

Biting your lower lip, you happily extended your neck a bit to give him more access. Mind all fuzzy and unable to think as he littered your neck with small kisses. Chan gripped your thigh and pulled it up a bit, lifting your hips just enough to hold you close to his pelvis,  kneading your thighs through your tights.

"Need you to focus." He nipped softly at your skin. "How else am I going to learn everything about you?

"Favorite position?" His fingers went under the hem of your tights and helped you shed the last outer part of your outfit. Once it was thrown somewhere across his room, you wrapped the leg he was holding up around his back and used what momentum you could gather to push his back on the bed. His hands instinctively grabbed onto your hips as you straddled him.

Your lips were soft and gentle as you leaned in for a kiss, the complete opposite of the intensity shared just moments before. "Don't care, so long as I'm full."

Chan wasted no time by stripping himself of his joggers and boxers on your behalf. Stifling a moan as best as he could once he felt your clothed core perfectly placed on his growing erection.  Guiding your hips to grind against him, he grinned as you threw your head back and sighed in content. Chan rocked his hips perfectly to the rhythm he set against you, providing the much-needed friction you craved.

You were starting to think he was tanking at dancing salsa on purpose.

"Anything off limits?" You couldn't even register that his hands snuck up to undo your bra clasp. He took a second to appreciate the view. Chan couldn’t stop himself from using his forearms to prop himself up to latch onto one of your nipples. Licking and sucking at anything he could grab. The mewls coming from your mouth sounded like a song he never wanted to end. Your hand caressed the back of his head, pressing him closer. 

“Just--mmm. Just don’t stop even if I say so.”

Leaving your breast with a wet ‘plop’, he stared up at you. You could see the usual gleam in his eyes disappear. They became dark, almost predatory. Chan lifted you off so he could be above you again. He traced your skin from the collarbone down to the hem of your underwear. You arched your back at his touch; “Luckily for you--I like begging.”

Your breath hitched. Surely, he could see the wet stain on your underwear by now.

“Any safe words then?”

Last question.

Chan finger slipped underneath the cloth and played with your folds. The way you squirmed underneath him made him want to ruin you more. The chuckle he let out when you tried to squeeze your thighs together made you feel warm all the way down to your core. Chan was quick to use his body to keep you nice and spread. All for him.

“L-lemon…”

“Sorry, couldn’t hear you.” Chan slipped the tip of his middle finger in you. “Could you speak up a bit?”

“Pendej--mmmphhh” You couldn’t finish your quip. Chan pushed in further until he was knuckle-deep. His lips hovered over yours as he slowly worked in and out of you. You kept arching and writhing as he continued his ministrations, mouth wide open as you let out silent moans.

“Ah, ah--I wanna hear you.” Once he added in a second finger, you couldn't contain yourself. Moans were spilling out of you like a pornstar. Even when he kissed you, there was nothing to stop the volume you were outputting. “Good job, baby.”

“Oh?” He chuckled as he felt your walls clamp down on him. “Did you like that?”

You couldn't speak as he kept pressing into you, wiggling his fingers against your walls. “C-chan…please…”

“Sorry, what was that?” He teased as he kissed around your collarbone.

“Chan…”

The bastard kept pretending not to hear you. As if he couldn't feel you practically leaking around his fingers and clenching around him like there was no tomorrow. 

You finally had enough.

Grabbing ahold of his face with one hand, you forced him to look at you. His cheeks smashed between your fingers. “Christopher, I swear to God--if you don't fuck me right now I'm taking over.”

Ah, so you did like to be in charge.

With a grin, he gladly ripped off your panties. He pulled away just a bit, taking in your appearance. Wanting to embed it into his brain for any future sessions he might have with himself later on.

He knew he should've grabbed a condom, but the alcohol was still flowing through him and he couldn’t stop himself as he slowly pushed into you. You tried finding words; how big he felt, how full he made you, but all that could come out were whimpers as he groaned and leaned in for another kiss to ease any pain you felt.

The two of you grind against one another. Chan never fully pulled out, keeping himself nice and snug in your warmth. Stretching you out, oh so sweetly.

Chan wasted no time in picking up his thrust as you tapped his shoulder, indicating that he was okay to move. You squeaked as he hooked your knees on his shoulders and leaned down to essentially bend you in half. He was hitting a spot you never felt before; not with previous boyfriends and definitely not with your own toys at home.

“So fucking tight…” Chan hissed as his pace sped up to the point he was jackhammering into you. His lips found their way back to your neck and kept mumbling about how you felt around him. So tight, so warm, just right. His teeth nipped your ear lobe, desperate to grab onto something but knowing he couldn’t mark you up too much. “Is this good, baby? Need it harder, faster?”

When you didn’t respond to him, he slowed down a bit and leaned back to stare down at you. His cock twitched when he realized what was happening.

You laid on the bed; eyes glazed over, mouth wide open, cheeks completely flushed. You knew he was asking you a question in Korean, but the words weren’t forming in your head like they usually do. “Aw,” Chan laughed. “Does it feel that good that you forgot Korean?”

Chan let up on the pressure so his hand can snake its way to your lips. You instantly latch on to his fingers and suck. Your tongue brushes around his tips, tasting the leftover residue of yourself from earlier. Your knees unhook from his shoulder and fall on either side of his waist. A whimper leaves you as he removes his fingers from your mouth and travels down to rub your clit. Still keeping his thrust with his brutal pace.

“Ahhh…wait…” You squirmed and your hand went to grab his wrist. Chan noticed how you didn’t pull his hand away despite your pleas. “Chan, p-please--too much.”

He kept using your body. Chan could feel you clamping down around his length. “Sorry,” he breathed out as he felt the pressure in his balls rising. “You’re just, hmmmph, too perfect.”

That’s what did it for you. The fact that he listened to what you mentioned earlier, and his talk. The crash of pleasure that overcame you was intense. Chan shuddered as he felt your wave around him. “Fuck, fuck fuck,” you came with a cry. Your arms wrapped around his neck, trying to ground yourself in any way that you could. You were loud. Nothing could stop the curses that flowed out of you as you held him close against you. Chan wasn’t far behind; “Oh, I-I’m gonna--”

He pulled out and stroked his cock rapidly around his head, painting your stomach with his warm cum. Of all the art museums he visited around the world--this was by far his favorite piece of work.

The room was filled with both of your heavy pants as he laid in your arms. Once he was able to catch his breath, Chan pulled away from your embrace placing the gentlest kiss on your lips. Humming as you kissed him back. He tried to get up, but you were quick to stop him.

“Don’t go…” You pouted. Part of you knew this would be a one-time thing, but another part never wanted this to end. Chan smiled down at you and gave your cheek a quick peck.

“I’m just grabbing a towel to clean you off.”

As he walked off to the bathroom you stared down at the mess on your abdomen. The remnants of the best sex of your life were starting to cake on your skin. It took everything in you to not scoop some up and taste him in your mouth. When Chan returned with a wet cloth, he cleaned you up before plopping onto the bed beside you.

Once you caught your breath, reality set in.

Here you were, all fucked out with a colleague in the same industry. Everything told you to leave. It wasn’t like the two of you were in a relationship. It was a rash decision based on a lot of alcohol and dancing. You started to get up, but Chan was quick to wrap his hand in yours.

“You…you don’t have to go…” Chan shifted to lay on his side and stared down to not meet your eyes. Acting all shy as if he didn’t fuck the lights out of you just moments before. Your heart melted at the sight.

Slinking back into bed, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you into his chest. His cheek pressed against the top of your forehead. You could feel his heartbeat against you and closed your eyes.

“You know,” you sighed. “This was something I definitely didn’t regret.”

“Me ‘neither.”

As the morning rolled around you woke up to Chan still wrapped around you. His soft snores made you smile. There was something surreal about seeing him so at peace that made your heart flutter. Placing a small kiss on his cheek, Chan shifted slightly and groaned as he stretched a bit.

“Mornin’,” He grumbled but held a smile as soon as his eyes landed on you. Chan wasted no time in pulling you into a kiss. His hands sneaking towards your ass to knead your flesh. His excitement is present against your thigh.

"Somebody's eager," You giggle as he pressed closer to you. Chan smirked as he gently rubbed his morning wood against you.

"You can say that."

"Unfortunately--"

Chan grumbled and hid his face in the crook of your neck. "No, don't say that."

"I was just going to say, that I need some water first." It was true. After all the drinks last night, your head was pounding like never before.

"Okay," Chan smiled and got up from bed to put a pair of boxers on. "Stay put, I'll grab you something to eat too."

Minutes passed as you waited in bed. Surprise overtook you as you heard a pan sizzling and the welcoming smell of home-cooking started to flood the dorm. Dawning one of his shirts, you made your way to the kitchen. Chan's back was to you as he manned the stove. You could see how his back rippled with every movement he made.

You couldn't see it, but a smile crept on Chan's face as he felt you wrap your arms around his midriff. "I thought I told you to stay put?"

"I'm not one for taking orders." You laugh as you hook your chin on his shoulder to peer over him. "Besides," Chan stiffened a bit as he felt your lips hover over his ear. "There's something sexy about a man cooking."

"Oh?" He quickly turned off the stove and turned around to face you. Your arms wrap around his neck as he leaned down closer to your face. "And what about your water?"

It was a frenzy of passion as your lips locked with his yet again. Both of you eager to relive last night in the light of sobriety. "Water can wait," you whisper in between kisses.

Chan easily lifted you, placing you on an open counter. Your legs spread to allow him access to be closer to you. The both of you started to mold into one another as the intensity grows. "I should cook for you more often," He grins as he breaks away from the kiss to catch his breath. He lifted his shirt on you slightly so your cunt was exposed.

"Promise?" You teased as he lowered himself down slightly to bring his lips level to your core. Chan enjoyed the way your head leaned back slightly as you felt his hot breath against you.

"Promise."

The both of you were so entranced with what was about to happen, that you didn't hear the door opening. Only the shrilly scream that bounced around the dorm broke you two apart.

You instantly jumped down from the counter as Chan stood upright, finding protection from behind him. Chan tried using his body to shield your half-naked body from the view of a very frightened Felix.

Not that he really needed too.

The younger member held both hands over his eyes. Groceries bags around him, spilling its contents around the floor.

"Felix?" Chan stuttered as he grabbed a kitchen rag to cover up his erection. "W-what are you doing here?"

Chan gestured for you to run back to the room as Felix was still covering his eyes. You had no hesitation, wanting to escape from the embarrassment. AKA your own personal hell.

"I didn't want you eating alone... I was gonna make breakfast."

Author's Note: Here it is! Please let me know what you think. I'm also open to requests, I really want to get back into writing and interacting more on here. If you'd like to be added to my taglist please interact with this post (linked). Bye~

Perma Tag:

@chrizzztopherbang @lixie-phoria @domicaru @lanilanii @olkj @fic-for-readers @manuosorioh @bts-army380 @bangchansdog @yeetfellx @moonieesworld @stepout-09-15 @amymarchkindagirlie @hey-hey-heybitch @zegreatpota-toe @komii07 @sophias-grove @bangchanslvt @fushigurosdarling @monkeymybeloved @channieswife @skz-world-3638 @iambangchanswife @silentlycb97 @wifeofkakashihatake @konathekona

ᴄʜᴀɴ

ʟᴇᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡ

ᴄʜᴀɴɢʙɪɴ

ʜʏᴜɴᴊɪɴ

ᴊɪsᴜɴɢ

ғᴇʟɪx

sᴇᴜɴɢᴍɪɴ

ᴊᴇᴏɴɢɪɴ

so you see this handsome man with a black turtleneck, elegant pants with a leather belt, gold accents around him: a thin necklace, the buckle of the belt, his ring. he comes in the kitchen where you and your friend are revising stuff for an upcoming presentation... you haven't known her for too long, so it's the first time you're at her house. and it's the first time you see her dad. and you also can't help but close your thighs together when your eyes linger a bit too much on his figure.

"hi sweetheart, are you perhaps the girl my sunshine always talks about?" oh, oh... his voice is deep... it's so unexpected, it makes your chest throb from the sound, and also from the way he looks at you.

and really, it's inevitable. you're such a gorgeous young girl, smart, witty, so sweet around him... your friend finds it weird that you're so interested in her dad, always asking her about him, batting your eyelashes at him when you're in the same room. but when you have dinner together he sists across from his wife, so, well, the spot beside him is the only one available, and he also can't help but nudge his elbow with yours when he compliments you, and he can't stop his hands from caressing your legs under the table. you don't say anything about it, so he figures that it's okay.

and, to be honest, you wouldn't expect it from Felix, but he's growing tired of his marriage. he's bored. he's always been loyal, devoted, he always worshipped the ground his wife walked on, but she's not the same anymore and now it's just them exchanging few words during the day and sleeping far apart on the same bed. anyone outside the four walls of his house would say they're still the perfect couple, but a little peak inside would make the last remains of their marriage collapse. that's why they don't talk about it. and, they also don't want to make their daughter worry, even if she's old enough to understand.

but when you enter their lives... it's so over for him. he should feel bad that his cock gets rock hard when he thinks about you, so much younger than him, his daughter's new friend, but in reality he's even more excited at the idea of it all. he does ask himself if with age he got to develop weird fantasies and if there's something wrong with his brain, but when you act like an innocent sweet deer in front of him, there are only images of him ruining you forever in his brain. maybe it's the thrill of the age difference, a little corruption kink, the fact that it's wrong and taboo.

so you play a little game and have to much fun with it. you flirt in front of everyone and they see it as something cute, not twisted and contorted like you two intend. you wearing your most accentuating colthes is just a coincidence. he starts to wear sweats and not underwear at home, but it's also a coincidence. it's also a coincidence that when you friend and her mother go out together you find yourself at her house and her father is also there!

"don't you feel like a little slut? huh? fucking your friend's father- fuck this little pussy..." he mumbles as he's deep inside you. as soon as you arrived he was all over you, caressing, kissing, licking. he felt the fabric of your pants under his palms, and then he slowly took off your skimpy clothes. Felix, he took you to his bedroom, where he usually sleeps with his wife... and if it didn't make you wetter than the Pacific Ocean you'd be lying.

he made you lay down, spread your legs, took his index and middle finger to close around your clit and looked at you writhing on top of the already messy sheets. he got all over yous chest, biting your tender flesh, feeling your firm breasts and looked at them, hypnotized by your pretty nipples and their shape. ah, he forgot how a woman could be so beautiful and magic...

Felix fingered you. nice and slow, because he wanted to collect your juices first of all, and he wanted to have them straight from the source. so he also ate you out. and he fucking moaned while doing so. "you taste- taste heavenly sweetheart, oh my god. oh my- you're so much better than my wife-" and after his words he finds himself squished between your thighs. he doesn't mind.

and when he breached your cunt with his cock, oh, he threw his head back. his grip on your sides getting harder and his thrusts powerful. he looks at you in adoration as he watches you bite your hands to be quiet, hiding your jiggling tits, squirming with your legs around him.

his adam apple is prominent, you see it move as he swallows. his lips part and low desperate grunts leave from them increasing together with his speed. "good girl, fuck- fuck you're such a good girl..." and he says that because you're letting him use you however he wants. a hand suddenly caresses your cheek, just to travel down to your lips, your neck, your cleavage, until his leverage is by holding a breast and your side. but Felix also flips you so that your face is squished between the cushions decorating the bed. he hovers over you and makes his pelvis slap against you, lost in the feeling of your walls sucking him in, making him hiss and almost protest from how much it feels good. he's about to pull out when you whine and plea him to cum inside. oh, he must have such a huge load in store...

but at the request electricity gets through his whole body and he spasms in shock. this time he isn't in the right mind to question his fantasies.

"what if I knock you up sweetie? huh? wouldn't that be a biiig mess pretty girl?" and your cunt clenches again, and again, and again, it seems like you want to milk him, forcefully make him spill inside. "you're such a filthy whore, god the sweet ones always turn out to be the dirtiest..." and he knows because, well, of course he had girls all over him before marrying.

he does, in fact, end up cumming inside you. and he gets you with your calfs on his shoulders again, to try taste the mix of the two of you. Felix, poor man... he gets so addicted to you, he doesn't wait to be alone with you and takes you even with his daughter and his wife still in the house.