MissTae's demonic sancutary

The old gymnasium was prettier than you'd ever seen it. Music filtered to each corner and lights danced across your skin. Changbin smiled sweetly at you, holding your waist from six inches away while you held his shoulders.

"This isn't middle school anymore," Changbin laughed. "We can dance closer."

You were biting your lip and looking down, focused on not stepping on his feet in your heels. One wrong move, and he could end up with a broken toe.

"Hey (Y/N)?" Changbin repeated, dragging your attention to his amused smirk. "You okay?"

You nodded and looked back down, too worried about misstepping to engage in conversation, but when a clumsy couple behind you ran into your back, all of the care in the world couldn't stop your heel from smashing his toes as you crashed into his chest.

Changbin caught you with careful hands on your back and you rushed out apologies while steadying yourself. He laughed when you tried to pull away, seemingly unbothered by what had happened.

"Will you let me hold you now?" he teased, still keeping you close.

You blushed and nodded as you ran your fingers across his broad shoulders to loop them around his neck. The music was a slow and steady ballad, and you followed his lead as he swayed and hummed. You could barely make eye contact standing so close and kept averting your gaze towards the bleachers or punch bowl.

"You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you," Changbin sang along playfully.

You smiled a little, but once again found yourself nervous when he looked at you. It was suffocating to be so close to someone so perfect.

"But if you feel like I feel," he continued in a teasing baritone. "Please let me know that it's real. You're just too good to be true. Can't take my eyes off of you."

The thought had just crossed your mind to lean on his shoulder when the music picked up and Changbin suddenly twirled you away from him and spun you around. You giggled and grinned while watching him parade around like the leader of a marching band to the beat of the song, and just before the words began again, he pulled you back into his chest.

"Missed that pretty smile of yours," he complimented as his hand ran down your sides to your back. "You're being so quiet tonight"

You wished you could give a reason for it or say anything at all, but you were sure that if you spoke even a single word, all your feelings would come bursting out. So, instead of speaking, you rested your cheek against his shoulder and hummed contentedly. You'd always felt comfortable around Changbin and didn't want these weird confusing flutters in your heart to mess that up.

He sighed happily and rested his cheek against your forehead. "It's nice holding you like this," he murmured.

You agreed but didn't know how to tell him, so you stayed still, letting him slow dance with you even when faster songs began playing. You felt heated wherever his body touched yours. Your chest ached for every breath that his pecs would brush your breasts. You tried to urge his hands to explore using the power of your mind, but realized quickly that it was fruitless. Changbin respected you...of course, he wouldn't squeeze your bum in public.

You raised your head a little, wondering if he was feeling the same things you were.

"What is it?" he asked with a crease in his brow. You'd just opened your mouth to speak when the music was cut and the principal stepped on stage.

"How is everyone doing tonight?" he began as people clapped and hollered. Changbin separated from you to face the stage, but you noticed his hand lingered on your side. "One of the most anticipated parts of prom is the recognition of a Prom King and Queen."

You could feel your heart race beneath your chest. You knew what name you'd selected and glanced at Changbin who smiled back at you.

"These students have been chosen by their peers for their kindness, their humility, and their representation of their school in and out of the halls. At this time, it is my honor to announce your prom King and Queen as..." he pauses to allow the students to create a drum roll in anticipation. "Seo Changbin and Lee Ji-eun!"

Changbin hugged you as everyone cheered, and you squeezed him back proudly before releasing him to receive his crown. He looked so excited that you found yourself crying happily for him.

"And now the royal dance," the principal announced.

You'd forgotten about this when you voted for him and Changbin bowed jokingly to Ji-eun before taking her hand and guiding her to the dance floor.

Some cheesy John Legend song began playing, and you bit your cheek to hold back your tears at the sight of them. He whispered something to her and she smiled before replying with something else that made him laugh.

When the song ended he kissed her hand as a real king would and stepped through the crowd to walk back to you. You smiled in pain and reached for him.

"Congratulations," you sniffed.

"Those aren't happy tears?" he questioned as he wiped your cheeks with a frown.

"They are," you lied through a voice crack.

Changbin pouted and cupped your face, bringing you close. "(Y/N), I know all of your looks, all your laughs, all your smiles, and all your cries. These are not happy tears. What's wrong?"

You felt selfish for ruining his moment with sobs that could amount to nothing more than heartbreak. Even so, your mouth was moving before your brain could stop it. "I was jealous."

Changbin looked behind him at Ji-eun and back to you. "Jealous? Did you want to win, too?" he pondered.

"No," you croaked out. The last thing you'd ever want is to stand on a stage in front of hundreds of people to be judged and assessed by all of their stares.

Changbin's eyes softened and his head tilted curiously. "Were you jealous of our dance?"

You felt sick to your stomach at the thought of admitting something so stupid. You stared at the ground and nodded, unable to speak the confirmation into the world. His finger came out to lift your chin, demanding you look at him.

"You have nothing to be jealous of," he promised, his voice low and lips close. The words danced across your skin, and you closed your eyes to savor the lingering feeling, assuming it was all you deserved. "You're all I want."

His lips pressed to yours before you could reply...before you could let the words and their meaning sink in to give you that warm and fuzzy feeling you always felt around Changbin. All of the heat you felt for him before was amplified. You pressed your hands to his chest, gripping the lapel of his tux as he threaded his fingers through your hair. You were desperate to stay close and moaned while sinking closer, unknowingly pushing him back against a wall. Changbin hummed and yanked you in by your waist, pinching your hips in his stronger grasp.

When you came up for air, you were acutely aware of the fact that you were still in the school gym. As you turned around, you noticed more than a few chaperones seemed to be on their way to scold you for the public display of affection and a few students snickered behind glasses of punch at your lack of self-control.

Changbin's hands held you from behind and he kissed your neck before whispering, "Let's go."

He held his hand out for you, and you took it, feeling a sense of pride in being held by him.

"Mr. Seo..." one of the teachers called, but you were already out the door.

"It's only 11," you realized when you settled into the familiarity of his car.

"What's your curfew?" he asked, knowing that you always had one thanks to strict parents who obsessed over true crime.

"1 am," you answered.

Changbin raised his brows as he started up the car. "How hard did you have to beg for that?"

You laughed and kissed his cheek simply because you could. "I didn't have to try that hard to have them raise it. It's prom, and they knew I was going with you. They trust you."

Changbin grinned at that fact and sped out of the parking lot. You had no idea where he was going but it didn't matter. If you were with him, you'd be safe.

It wasn't a surprise when he pulled up to his house. You'd been there hundreds of times and always loved how adoring and trusting his parents were. He parked and rounded the car to open the door for you, offering his hand to help you navigate the stone walkway.

Once the door opened, you realized right away how quiet it was. His parents who usually stayed up late to watch reruns of Friends were nowhere in sight.

"It's just us," you realized, swearing you could hear your voice echo in the entryway.

"My dad is gone on a work trip...my mom went with him," Changbin explained as he reached for you and pulled you close just as you'd been at the prom.

It was so new to be touched by him like this, and yet it felt surprisingly familiar. You flattened his suit and pressed your hands to his chest, thinking to yourself how handsome he looked. He'd always been handsome but you'd never seen him in a suit before. You could feel yourself blush as you considered what it would be like to see him without a suit.

He exhaled and drew your attention to his pursed lips. "It's a shame we didn't start kissing sooner," he sighed as he pressed a soft peck to your lips. "It's so nice."

Your cheeks flushed pink in agreement, and Changbin brushed his thumbs over your rosy skin. "I love that I always know what you're thinking," he murmured. "Even if you say nothing."

You felt naked. You always knew Changbin could read you clearer than anyone, but hearing him confess it was like being stripped bare and laid out for all to see.

"Like right now," he hummed as he brushed his fingers through your hair, pulling out a clip that had been digging into your scalp. You sighed in relief when your hair fell, moaned when his fingers massaged your hair, melting into his touch. "You've always been beautiful," he breathed. "But I especially like you like this."

"Dressed up?" you asked, fearing he'd wake up in the morning regretting kissing you when he saw you in your plain clothes again.

"No," he smirked with another kiss. "I like how comfortable you are with me. You're so guarded around everyone else...even your parents."

"Nobody else cares to try to get to know me," you admitted, watching the way his gaze turned pitiful.

"It's their loss," he whispered before his kisses became feverish. His hands became weights that held you against him, and you tugged him closer unwilling to separate even for air. You'd die without breath if it meant keeping his eager lips against yours.

The first slip of your hand landed your palm against his shirt, and you realized a shirt was so much nicer a thing to hold than a jacket. You shoved the tux from his shoulders, urging it to the ground so you could feel more of him. He let it fall behind him and gathered your hair to one shoulder. "Turn around," he whispered.

You listened, always trusting him, always knowing that whatever happened you'd be safe. Your dress had a slight open back and you felt his knuckles brush down your spine, making you arch in surprise.

His lips pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "We can always stop," he informed you as he pulled the zipper down. "We can redress and go get junk food or watch a movie like we usually do," he offered as he unclasped the halter neck sending your dress to the floor. "Or maybe we can try something new," he breathed as his arms wrapped around your waist before driving up to your chest.

He cupped your bare breasts for the first time, lingering only briefly before playfully squeezing you and lifting you out of your heels.

You squealed as he carried you to his room, giggling in shock when you felt the soft fur of his favorite blanket. You wrapped it around yourself, suddenly very aware you were nearly naked and he was not.

Changbin stepped out of his shoes and began unbuttoning his shirt. "You don't know how many times I've wished you were here...sitting just like that."

You could feel your eyes shining in admiration of him, but the idea of speaking your mind as transparently as he did left you thoughtless. You bit your lip and tightened the blanket around your shoulders.

He pulled off his shirt and then the undershirt. You eyed him hungrily with a fresh blush in your cheeks as he began undoing his belt. "I've never done this before," he warned you. "So I might not be very good at it."

"Me neither," you confessed just as his pants fell to the floor, making him your equal in clothes left. You each had just underwear waiting to be removed.

"I want to be good for you," Changbin answered while crawling to your side. "I've heard girls don't always cum their first time. But I want it to be as good for you as it is for me."

Your entire body burned at the thought...at the embarrassment of it all. Changbin would touch you...he'd be inside you, and you could possibly disappoint him by not finishing.

He urged the blanket out of your hands, draping it behind you so that you were once again exposed to him. "You're so soft," he praised before running his fingers over your nipples and watching them pebble.

You whined and moved closer, desperate for more gentle touches that left you tingling for him.

"I also heard it can hurt for girls," he frowned, his hand moving lower across your stomach. "I don't want it to hurt," he said in a low voice and he pressed his hand into your underwear.

"Bin," you whimpered, hips grinding his palm that cupped your center. He was the very first boy to touch you there, and it felt so different from what you thought. Changbin ran two fingers through your slick—two digits that felt as thick as four of yours.

You shamefully covered your face when he pushed them in, fighting the moans that threatened to spill by kissing and nibbling on his neck. As usual, Changbin was louder. He whimpered when you sucked his skin, when your cunt squeezed around his fingers as the pleasure built.

"Your body is even louder than the blush on your cheeks," he groaned, noticing (as always) your silent tells. "You seem to like it most when I..." he trailed off as he curled his fingers that were sunk deep inside you.

It was impossible to hide your whines now. They came as freely as thoughts appear in your head or clouds appear in the sky. You held Changbin's face, urging him closer, eyes pleading for his lips. Your lips moved slowly if not lazily together. He kissed you through desperate pants and continued when your waist began to grind against his hand.

He kissed you even as you released onto him, drowning his digits in the proof of your high before pulling them out and dragging your panties down your legs before settling his cock against your heat.

"Tell me if it hurts," he muttered as you ran your fingers through his hair and spread your legs a little wider.

You nodded and kissed his nose, feeling so perfectly euphoric after your first orgasm that nothing sounded better than a second.

"You're glowing, baby," he smirked when he realized how dazed you were.

"I'm happy," you confessed with uncharacteristically playful kisses to his cheeks.

"I'm happy too," he breathed as he sank in, stretching and filling you as the air filled with your moans.

You glanced between your bodies in surprise, curious as to what it would look like with him inside you. It was strange seeing your bodies so connected.

He pulled his hips back and thrust in again, this one feeling even better than the last. Your head fell back to the pillow and Changbin caged you in where you lay. You gazed up at him with loving, drunken eyes and twirled a piece of his hair around your finger when he stilled deep inside you.

"I've never seen you so out of your own mind before," he commented.

"I don't have to think in here with you," you confessed. "You do that for me."

Changbin's lips were soft against yours...they were patient but powerful. "That's right, baby. Just feel. I can take care of everything else," he vowed as his hips rolled forward and back, the closeness enough to have his name spilling from your lips as a second orgasm closed in. You felt his cock twitch against your walls and knew he was nearing his end too.

His eyes almost seemed to cross as he took in all of you...from your lips parting in needy sighs to your breasts shaking with every thrust...all the way up to your hands holding his biceps to ground yourself. It was a mental image he never wanted to forget and one he knew he'd be returning to every night until he died.

"I'm close," you squeaked out, eyes pinched shut as your brain took over and tried to close out the pleasure. Hold off it said. You look pathetic when you cum...grasping at his shoulders and making weird sounds.

"Finish for me, baby," Changbin urged, his voice hoarse and deep against your ear. "Look at me," he pleaded, the demand enough to pull you from your thoughts. "Cum with me," he begged as his pace became erratic. "I need you to..."

You pulled him in for a kiss as you gasped and came around his cock. You throbbed around him and clutched his shoulders as your body spasmed beneath his. Changbin pulled out and spilled onto your stomach and chest, his moans breathy and ticklish on your neck.

He collapsed on top of you, kissing your neck and shoulder and cheek before rolling to lay beside you where he eyed the mess proudly.

He looked dizzied and smiley when he met your euphoric, droopy eyes. "I have to get home," you yawned as you scooted closer, cuddling into his body like a blanket.

"I'll take care of that," he promised. "Why don't you go shower, and I'll take care of your parents?"

Normally, you'd never agree to such terms as your parents were so overprotective that they'd never let you have even an extra hour of curfew, but Changbin seemed confident that whatever he wanted to happen would happen.

You nodded sleepily and kissed him again. "Love you."

He smiled and kissed you back. "Love you too."

The words were common but meant something more now even if neither of you cared to have that conversation. You'd said them often as friends but knew you were beyond that title now.

You headed off to shower and heard Changbin reaching for his phone. You'd only just begun to shampoo your hair when he joined you and massaged your scalp while kissing your shoulder.

"You can stay with me tonight if you want."

You turned around in shock, almost slipping on the tile. "How?"

"I told them you fell asleep when we came back here to watch a movie. Apparently, they trust me more than we thought," he grinned as he stole some of the shampoo from your hair to wash his own.

Once your body was bathed, your hair brushed, and your mouth minty fresh, you dug through his drawers to find a t-shirt to wear and a pair of boxers to steal.

You looked so much different from the way you had when the evening began. The gown was gone and your hair was tangled. Your makeup had been removed, and you looked even plainer than you did on a normal day because at least on a normal day you had a little concealer to hide your faults.

Changbin had a side smile as he reached for you to bring you back to the bed and back to his arms. You snuggled against his chest, intent to hide in it when he once again tilted you to look at him. "I think this is my favorite version of you."

"Because I look so bad nobody else will try to steal me?" you frowned.

Changbin kissed your forehead. "No, you look beautiful just like you always do. But instead of just feeling comfortable with me, now you look like you're comfortable with yourself...even if your brain won't let you believe it yet."

⚜️ʜʏᴜɴᴊɪɴ

— dramatic 'n romantic sub , expressive

“You’re beautiful.” He breathed as your lips broke apart for a second of breath. Loud, whiny breaths escaping his lips as you worked his cock. Your grip gentle but firm. Hyunjin’s hands ran up and down your body, gripping wherever he felt like. “So are you.” You hummed with a giggle, admiring how he looked; Hair sprawled out against the pillow, toned body flushed, bare and slick with sweat, kiss-swollen lips, and entire body reacting to your touch on his cock. “Only for you.” He grinned. You couldn’t help but chuckle before capturing his lips against yours again.

— knows he looks good , wants you to know how pretty you look as well , touchy

⚜️ʜᴀɴ

— baby sub , squirms a lot

“Stop moving.” Your tone is sharp and annoyed, free hand grabbing his wrists and holding his arms out of the way. He couldn’t help it. Your grip on his cock hard ‘n rough, and he was still recovering from his last orgasm. Breaths quick and uneven as he moaned into your neck. “‘M sorry..” he whined, hips twitching away from your touch while chasing your touch at the same time. “Wait- wait-“ He gasped, your hand flicking over his sensitive tip. You just grinned. “Close again already?” You teased. “It hasn’t even been five minutes and you’re about to cum twice.” He couldn’t even form a proper response. Only response you could get from him was a whine.

— cums fast , hides his face , apologizes a lot even for things he doesn’t need to

⚜️ꜰᴇʟɪx

— sweet service sub , doesn’t lean deep into sub/dom dynamics

The moans of both you and Felix filled your guys’ dimly lit bedroom. Only light coming from the tv. Your hand working on his cock in steady strokes. His higher-pitched whimpers both arousing and adorable. One of Felix’s hands roamed your body gently, while his other hand alternating between fingering you and rubbing your clit. Placing soft kisses on your neck. He gasped as you tightened your grip on his cock, pulling a high pitched, pathetic mix of a whine and a moan from his mouth. Momentarily halting his movements. You shot him a warning look, pouting, pushing back against his hand. “Don’t stop,” You whined, grip tightening even more around his cock. He groaned, but a small smile played at his lips as he nodded, doing exactly as you told him to do.

— vocal , obedient , more vanilla ‘n sweet situations with him

⚜️ꜱᴇᴜɴɢᴍɪɴ

— sarcastic sub , holds back sounds ‘till he can’t

“I don’t beg.” Was what Seungmin said with an eye roll. He had a sassy mouth for someone whose bark was bigger than his bite. “Please- let me cum..” Seungmin whined, head lolling pathetically to the side, resting against your shoulder as his half-lidded eyes watched in frustration as your hand left his cock throbbing ‘n aching again. His hips attempting to chase your touch. You had edged him his last three, almost orgasms. He was dying to cum, even if it meant he had to go against his earlier words and beg you to let him cum. “I thought you don’t beg?” Your tone was low and teasing. He could practically hear your smug smirk. About to snap back with a sassy remark before your hand slapped across his cheek, the impact taking him off guard and turning him on. “Loser. Keep begging f’me.”

— pathetic if you edge him , insults you even as he actively falls apart , loves rough and degrading treatment

⚜️ɪ.ɴ

— experimental ‘n competitive sub , needs to hold something when overwhelmed

It started off simple: you wanted to try edging. I.N agreed and swore he could handle it. “I’m not that sensitive- i’ll be able to handle it.” His words, exact. Now here he was clinging to your thigh while your hands started to work his cock again. Denying his orgasm a second time. His cock swollen ‘n red, precum slowly dripping down from his pretty tip. “You ok?” You asked, chuckling as his hands grip on your thigh tightened when your hand flicked over his sensitive tip. “I thought you weren’t sensitive,” You teased light-heartedly. “I’m not-“ he denied even as his body said otherwise. Hips twitching. “K-keep going..” He mumbled. “I can handle it.”

— can be competitive with himself , lowk loves torturing himself , tends to get cocky till u put him back in his place

You were not some pretty girl sitting behind the wheel for a show, nor a name people remembered because it was unusual to see a woman in the scene. They remembered you because you were good. No, better than good. You were unbeatable. Even the cockiest racers, the ones who wore arrogance like a second skin, lost the moment they lined up beside you. The second the engines came to life and the countdown began, victory was already slipping from their grasp.

A demon on the asphalt.

The streets belonged to you, and everyone knew it.

At the center of your legend was the machine that had become an extension of your soul: your bright yellow Chevrolet Camaro Concept, who you call  Bumblebee, a name far softer than the beast she truly was.

She was your pride and joy, the one and only car that had witnessed every moment of your journey on the streets. From your very first race to every victory that followed, she had been there through it all, sharing every win since the moment you decided that this life, the streets, was where you truly belonged.

By now, your name had become something the streets could not stop talking about. Men and women alike idolized you. Some admired the way you moved through the crowd with effortless confidence, leather jacket slung over your shoulders and your gaze sharp enough to make people look away first. Others were drawn to the danger that clung to you like perfume, the thrill of watching you slide into the driver's seat as if you had been born there. To the women who watched from the sidelines, you were power made flesh. To the men who dared race, you were every bruised ego and impossible fantasy wrapped into one. You were more than a racer. You were the streets' obsession.

Except Bangchan's fascination had always been different.

Where everyone else watched from a distance, content to admire you like a legend too untouchable to reach, Chan insisted on stepping directly into your path. Again and again, he pulled his car beside yours at the starting line, the familiar low rumble of his engine cutting through the night as his eyes found you through the open window. He challenged you every single time, and every single time, he lost. At least, that was what everyone believed.

The crowd loved to laugh about it, whispering about how stubborn Chan was, how foolish he had to be to keep throwing himself into races he could never win. But they did not notice the way his gaze lingered on you before the countdown began, nor the faint curve of his mouth whenever your car shot ahead of his. They did not see the satisfaction in his eyes as your taillights pulled farther into the darkness.

Because Chan was never chasing victory. He was chasing you.

There was something about the way you carried yourself on the streets that had gotten under his skin from the very beginning. The cold confidence in your stare, the way your fingers curled around the steering wheel like you owned the night itself, the almost cruel ease with which you overtook every racer who dared stand beside you. He was drawn to it in a way that made no sense, hopelessly addicted to the sight of you leaving everyone behind, including him. Maybe that was why he kept coming back. Or maybe, if he were being honest with himself, there was something intoxicating about letting you win.

Tonight, something about Chan felt different.

You noticed it the moment his Red Lamborghini Huracan pulled up beside yours, the low growl of the engine cutting through the night like a warning. The streets were alive as always, neon lights reflecting off polished hoods and asphalt, voices mixing with the hum of engines and the smell of smoke and gasoline. But the playful glint that usually lingered in Chan's eyes was gone. Tonight, there was something sharper—conviction, and maybe something more. He stepped out of his car and closed the door with a quiet click. His gaze found yours immediately, and for a moment, the crowd around you seemed to disappear. You straightened against Bumblebee, fingers brushing along the smooth yellow paint.

"You came back," you said softly. Not a taunt, just an observation.

"I always do," he replied, stepping closer, close enough that the air between you felt heavier. There was a flicker of teasing under the intensity in his eyes, and it made your pulse quicken even as your expression stayed calm.

"So," he added, voice low and deliberate, "How about we make this interesting." He leaned slightly toward you, just enough to make the movement noticeable, letting a shadow of a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

"Let's make a bet." he said, locking eyes with you, "If I win this time, you'll come and ride with me." The words were bold, but the way he said them made it clear he was enjoying the tension, testing how you'd react.

You stayed quiet for a moment, holding his gaze. His lips twitched, a faint smirk, as he let the silence stretch.

"And if I win?" you asked at last, steady and composed.

"Then I'll stop," he murmured, almost playful, though the heat in his eyes showed he wasn't entirely serious.

He stepped back and ran a hand along his car roof, casual in gesture but deliberate. "Tonight I plan to make you work for it."

You glanced toward the empty stretch of road ahead, then back at him. "One race," you said softly. Chan's smirk widened, just enough to be dangerous.

"Good," he said, leaning slightly forward again. "Try not to make it too easy for me, okay?" His voice was teasing, low, like a game, but every word carried the same intensity that haunted the streets whenever he raced beside you.

You rested a hand on Bumblebee, calm and controlled. "I never do." Chan chuckled, soft and dark, sliding into his car and revving the engine. Even with the neon glow and the city buzzing around you, it felt like the two of you existed in your own world—a dangerous, electric world that suddenly felt more thrilling than ever.

You eased Bumblebee to a stop, chest heaving, hands trembling slightly from the rush of adrenaline. Chan rolled up beside you, that infuriating smirk still on his face, and for a second, it felt like the night itself was holding its breath. 

"See? Not too bad, huh?" he said, voice low and teasing, but there was an edge to it that made your stomach tighten.

You forced yourself to stay calm, but inside, a storm was brewing. Not too bad? You had given everything you had and still lost. You swallowed, steadying your racing heart, and said evenly, "Not bad... you drove well."

Chan leaned back slightly, eyes glinting, and that familiar half-smile tugged at his lips. "I could say the same about you... but I think you already know why you lost tonight."

And that's when the frustration hit—sharp and sudden. Your hands clenched on the wheel as a thought wormed its way into your mind. Why tonight? Why now? Was he... letting me win before? Every race you had fought him, every time you crossed the finish line first, suddenly felt different. Maybe he had never been trying to win against you at all, letting you take the lead while pretending to struggle.

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you could barely look at him. Every smirk, every teasing glance, every effortless overtaking you had done before, it all flickered through your mind with a new, infuriating possibility. Was I just... a game to him all this time?

Chan leaned closer again, eyes locked on yours, voice soft but deliberate. "So..." he said, stretching the word, almost casually, though the intensity in his gaze made it impossible to ignore. "Shall we go?"

Your jaw tightened. The rush of the race had faded, leaving only the sharp sting of frustration, the mix of adrenaline and disbelief. For the first time, you wondered if he had been holding back all this time, letting you feel unbeatable while he watched, learning, teasing, playing his own dangerous game.

You sighed, starting Bumblebee’s engine again, ready for whatever chaotic path he had in mind, but the sudden roar of his Huracan made you whip your head toward him.

“Ah, ah,” he shook his head, a low chuckle rumbling from his chest as he leaned closer, tapping the passenger seat with his hand. “Here, pretty girl. Leave your Bumblebee.”

Your brow furrowed, jaw tightening. “You can’t be serious,” you muttered, voice steady though your chest tightened. “I just lost, and now you want me in your car?”

His smirk deepened, a dangerous, teasing tilt that made it impossible to look away. “Oh, I’m serious,” he said, eyes locking with yours.

“Besides, we made a bet before we start the race right?” His hand lingered on the edge of the door, almost invitingly, almost dangerous. “Don't tell me you don't do what you say now? So much for the best female racer image you have.”

A knock on the window made you glance up. One of your friends nodded. “I’ll drive your car back. Just… go with him,” he said, leaving you no choice. With a frustrated sigh, you turned off the ignition and handed over the keys.

Sliding into Chan’s Huracan, you immediately noticed the difference from your own car. The interior was clean and sharp, black leather with just enough detailing to make it feel… his. The faint scent of his cologne mixed with the warmth of the cabin, and it hit you more than you expected, masculine, familiar, almost magnetic. Not overpowering, just enough to make your knees go slightly weak.

You settled in, your fingers brushing over the smooth leather and polished trim. The cabin wasn’t flashy, but it had character, a quiet confidence that matched him. Every detail, the seats, the controls, the way the light fell across the dashboard, felt deliberate, like the car itself reflected the man sitting behind the wheel.

“Now, buckle up, baby. We’re going to fly.” His voice was low, teasing, but there was an edge to it that made your chest tighten. You hesitated for a split second, fingers brushing the seatbelt, and he caught your gaze with that smirk, half playful, half dangerous.

Before you could respond, the engine roared to life beneath you, the tires screeching as he pushed forward. The city blurred around you, neon lights streaking past, and for a moment, all you could feel was the raw pull of speed and the undeniable presence of him beside you.

It had been fifteen minutes of nothing but weaving through the city at insane speeds, the lights blurring past and your pulse still racing, when Chan suddenly slowed, sliding into a silent, dark alley. The engine quieted, leaving only the faint hum of the car and your own ragged breathing. He lifted his head slightly, adjusting his hair, then leaned closer, that smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His hand rested lightly on your thigh, casual, deliberate, and impossible to ignore.

Your eyes dropped to it instantly, eyebrows furrowing, chest tightening. The warmth of his touch was maddening, a teasing reminder of the control he always seemed to have.

“Backseat, lovely,” he purred, tilting his head toward the backseat, voice low and velvety, dangerous in the way it made your stomach twist. His eyes locked on yours.

“You’re insane if you think I’m getting into the backseat with you.”

A low chuckle rumbled from Chan’s lips, dark and amused. He unbuckled his seatbelt first, then reached over to unclip yours before you could stop him. In one smooth motion, his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you closer until a startled squeal left your lips.

His face was suddenly much nearer, the mischievous glint in his eyes clearer now beneath the dim light filtering through the windshield.

“Do you really think that was the ride I was talking about in the bet?” he asked, lips curving into a slow, teasing smile, clearly referring to the fifteen minutes the two of you had just spent speeding through the city.

Your breath caught.

The warmth of his hand at your waist, the closeness of him, and the playful challenge in his tone made your heart pound against your ribs. He looked entirely too pleased with himself, as if he had been waiting for you to piece it together.

“I was talking about this ride, lovely,” he murmured, eyes flicking meaningfully toward the backseat before returning to yours, that same dangerous amusement still dancing in them.

“Now, to the backseat,” he said, his voice firmer this time.

Before you could even gather your thoughts, Chan’s hand was already at your waist, guiding you toward the backseat with steady insistence. The movement was not rough, but there was enough force behind it to leave you stumbling forward onto the leather seat.

Your hands landed first.

The soft leather dipped beneath your palms as you caught yourself, knees sinking into the seat a second later, leaving you on all fours before you could even turn around. A breath hitched in your throat as the realization settled in.

You tried to look back at him, but he was faster.

His hand slid to the nape of your neck, fingers curling there in a firm grip as he kept you in place, pressing you gently but unmistakably toward the backrest.

“Stay like that,” he growled, his voice low and rough against the confined darkness of the car.

The space inside the car suddenly felt impossibly small, the air thick and heavy with his presence as Chan leaned in close behind you. Every movement he made was slow and deliberate, as if he wanted you to feel the tension building between your bodies with agonizing precision.

His hand slid down, roughly hiking your miniskirt up around your waist. He gripped the fabric harshly for a moment before delivering a sharp smack to your exposed skin.

“Chan—” you gasped.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted you like this,” he rasped against your ear, his voice low and laced with raw aggression.

Without another word, two thick fingers pushed inside you. A dark chuckle rumbled from his chest as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“Look at that… you’re fucking soaked,” he murmured, pressing a deceptively soft kiss against your heated skin. “Since when, hm? Have you been this wet ever since I shoved you into the backseat of my car?”

A soft, needy moan slipped from your lips. You bit down hard on your plump lower lip, eyes fluttering shut as your brows knitted together in pleasure. His fingers curled expertly inside you, stroking that sensitive spot that made your thighs tremble.

“Answer me when I’m talking to you, Y/N,” he growled, his voice dripping with venom. His fingers stayed curled, pressing firmly against your walls, before he suddenly began thrusting them fast and deep, hitting every spongy, sensitive ridge inside you with devastating accuracy.

“I don’t know— oh fuck!” you whined, your forehead dropping forward against the backrest of the seat.

But Chan wasn’t having it. His hand shot up, gripping your jaw tightly as he forced your head back, making you meet his intense gaze.

“Look at me,” he hummed, voice low and commanding. “Look at me while I mess with you.”

He slowly pulled his fingers out, leaving you clenching around nothing. Without breaking eye contact, Chan spat generously into his palm, the wet sound deliberate and obscene. Then he plunged his fingers back inside your cunt, deeper this time, the added spit making everything deliciously slippery.

His hand moved with relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of your soaked pussy. Filthy, wet sloshing sounds filled the confined space of the car, echoing loudly between your desperate whimpers and shaky breaths. The lewd noises only seemed to spur him on, growing wetter and louder with every thrust of his fingers.

Chan released your jaw, allowing your head to fall back against the headrest. His fingers never slowed down—plunging deep and fast into your soaked cunt with relentless rhythm. With his free hand, he quickly unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, the metallic sound cutting through the wet, filthy noises echoing inside the car.

The sigh that escaped Chan’s lips as he rubbed his flushed, leaking tip along your sloppy, dripping cunt was heavy and raw, a visible shiver racing down his spine. He slowly withdrew his fingers from your pulsing heat, using his now-free hand to grip your waist firmly, holding you exactly where he wanted you.

“Ch-Chan, please—” you whined, nails digging desperately into the smooth leather of the seat.

“Stop whining,” Chan tutted, his voice dark with amusement. “I’ll play with this pretty little cunt as long as I want. And I’ll plunge my cock inside you whenever the fuck I feel like it.”

He groaned low in his throat as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back sharply and forcing your back to arch beautifully for him.

“Fuck… you’re so soaked,” he growled, still dragging his thick tip through your slick folds. “So fucking ready for me already, hm? Just messing with you like this gets you this hot and desperate?”

You gasped sharply as you felt the blunt head of his cock slowly push inside you, stretching your slick walls around just the tip. The sound made Chan chuckle darkly against your back, the low vibration rolling through his chest as he pressed soft, teasing kisses along your shoulder blades.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement and barely restrained hunger. “Just the tip and you’re already moaning like a desperate little mess.”

“Christopher, I swear to fucking god—if you don’t move any deeper, I’m gonna fucking—fuck!” you cried out, frustration and need bleeding into every word.

“Hm? Did you say something, darling?” Chan asked teasingly, his voice dripping with mock innocence. You couldn’t see his face, but you could practically feel the smug smirk curling on his lips as he finally started fucking you properly from behind.

Your desperate moans spilled out like music to his ears, each one louder and more broken than the last. They blended perfectly with the obscene, wet plapping sounds of skin slapping against skin, filling the cramped backseat of the car.

“Yes! Fuck—hm!” you huffed, one hand flying up to grab his wrist where he gripped your hair, while the other clawed desperately at the leather seat. Filthy, broken moans tore from your throat, raw and unrestrained.

Bangchan was anything but gentle. His nails dug harshly into the soft skin of your waist, leaving crescent marks as he pulled his hips back until only the swollen tip remained inside you, then slammed back in with a powerful thrust. He cursed under his breath, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he felt your walls clamp down around him greedily, as if your body refused to let him pull away even for a second.

“Fuck—angel,” he groaned, voice rough and strained. “This tight little cunt’s gonna make me come undone so damn fast, baby. Squeeze me just like that.”

His hips snapped forward again, rutting into you faster, harder, and deeper with every thrust. The swollen tip of his cock slammed repeatedly against your cervix, sending sharp jolts of pleasure-pain through your body that made you shudder violently in his iron grip.

“S-shit—ahh!” you cried out.

“How’s that?” Chan growled, voice rough and taunting. “This is what you wanted, right? Wanted me buried so deep in your guts like this? Fuck yeah… moaning like a filthy little whore for me.” He let out a dark, breathless laugh, hips never slowing.

“So much for the best female street racer, hm? Look at you now—just a desperate slut falling apart on my cock.”

You shook your head desperately, mouth hanging open in a silent cry as the intense pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your stomach, threatening to snap at any second. Your breath came in short, heaving gasps and broken huffs. Your hips moved on their own, bucking back greedily to meet every brutal thrust, completely beyond your control.

“God, I just wanna break you,” Chan groaned, voice dark and dripping with hunger. “Look at you… such a fucking mess for me.”

"I'm flipping you over." He gave one last deep thrust before suddenly pulling out, leaving you painfully empty. His hands gripped your waist roughly as he flipped you over onto your back in one swift motion.

“I wanna see that cute face when I ruin you.”

The moment Chan slammed back inside you, a filthy, broken moan tore from both of your mouths at the same time. He hooked one strong hand behind your knee, pushing your leg up high and folding you open beneath him. He didn’t even let you catch your breath. His hips immediately started rutting forward again, fast, deep, and utterly insistent, pounding into your soaked cunt with raw, relentless need.

“Oh shit. I’m reaching even deeper like this,” he huffed, his breathing short and ragged. “Fuck. You’re fucking unreal, baby.”

He leaned forward, invading your lips with a deep, harsh kiss. All teeth and tongue, messy and demanding, swallowing every moan and whimper that spilled from you.

He pulled away from the kiss when he felt you growing breathless. His lips hovered just above yours as he murmured softly, “Hold on, baby. I got you. I got you.”

His voice dropped into a low, shaky whisper. “You gonna cum for me? F-fuck… m’close too. So close…”

He licked his lips, then used his free hand to grab your jaw and force your eyes back on him. He pressed a soft kiss to your lips first, even licking across them slowly. All the while, his hips kept hammering into you with brutal force.

“Do it, baby. Yes, just like that,” he panted, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. “Look at me while you cum, yeah?”

He nosed along your cheek, hips never slowing. “Come, baby. Do it. You’re so fucking close. Come on, come on, come on,” he whispered urgently, his words pushing you closer to the edge.

“Let go, baby. Let go, you little tease.”

“Chan—fuck. Please— I’m gonna—” Your breath stuttered as your body finally convulsed, the orgasm you had been holding back crashing through you. Your tummy churned violently with pleasure. Your eyes rolled back into your head and your mouth hung open, a filthy, broken moan ripping from your throat.

Your fingers tangled tightly in his hair, back arching sharply off the seat as wave after wave of intense pleasure tore through you. Your toes curled hard, legs shaking uncontrollably.

“Fuuuck! There you go…” Chan groaned, voice rough and wrecked. “Ugh, you look so fuckin’ good when you cum. Can’t get enough of you.”

Your walls were still fluttering and clenching around him from your orgasm when his rhythm started to falter. His hips, which had been so controlled and brutal, suddenly turned erratic. His thrusts became shorter, harder, and sloppier as he chased his own release.

“Shit… baby, I should pull out,” he panted against your lips, voice strained and desperate. His grip on your jaw tightened, forehead pressed to yours. “I really should… fuck, but you feel too good. Too fucking tight. I can’t—”

He tried to slow down, but you didn’t let him. You wrapped your legs around his waist tighter, locking your ankles behind his back and pulling him deeper into you. The silent demand made his breath hitch.

A broken groan tore from his throat. “Fuck… you’re not letting me go, huh?”

He tried one last time to pull back, but your legs held him firmly in place. The pleasure was too overwhelming. His hips stuttered violently, slamming into you with uneven, frantic strokes.

“Fuck it… I can’t stop. I’m gonna cum inside you,” he growled, eyes dark and wild. “Gonna fill this pretty little cunt up. Take every drop, baby.”

With one final, deep thrust, Chan buried himself as far as he could go. His whole body tensed, muscles straining as he came hard inside you. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded your still-spasming walls. He moaned loudly, raw and unrestrained, hips jerking against you with every pulse as he emptied himself completely.

Even after he finished, he stayed buried deep, breathing heavily against your neck while his cock twitched inside you, giving you every last drop.

“Just… lay with me like this for a bit,” Chan huffed between ragged breaths. He shifted your positions carefully, pulling you up until you were straddling his lap. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, and he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

He let out another tired breath against your skin. “Guess we should drive you back home then, huh?”

You nodded softly and tried to pull your head back just a little, but he held you close. “Can I spend the night with you?” you asked quietly.

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Huh? You want to spend the night with me? Tch, no.”

Your face immediately fell into a frown, and you smacked his chest with your fist.

“Aw, fuck!” he laughed, grabbing your wrist gently. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. Of course you can spend the night with me. I was already planning on you staying over anyway.”

He chuckled softly between his huffs, still catching his breath. “Oh, but I don’t have any clothes though,” you murmured. “My condo is too far to drive back just to get some.”

“It’s fine,” he said, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck. “You can just wear my clothes.”

Chan placed another sweet, lingering kiss on your lips, then trailed one to your cheek. He gave your ass a soft, affectionate pat.

“Alright, let’s go,” he murmured against your skin, voice still husky. “Get your butt back on the passenger seat and we’ll drive back to my condo.”

He pressed one final kiss to your neck before finally loosening his arms around your waist, letting you go.

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sfw:

sub!seungmin who follows you around like a lost puppy when you two are home. he stays within 3 feet of you at all times. wake-up? he’s in your arms. going to the bathroom? he’s standing next to sink, facing the door while telling you about his dreams.

you’re making pancakes or at least trying to. you’re about to flip the second one when you just about lose it. seungmins arms are wrapped tight around you and his face is nuzzled in your neck.

you sigh. “minnie” he whines in response. “i cant make these pancakes with you literally on top of me baby” he huffs and slightly loosens his grip.

“it’s so cold though” he pouts. “then get a hoodie” you say and he whines again. when the pancakes are finally done and the two of you are eating, he doesn’t sit across from you like a normal person, no. he sits next to you - chair scooched nice and close - with his thigh pressed to your own.

sub!seungmin who insists he’s the little spoon. even when you guys go to bed with him being the big spoon, you wake up with him in your arms.

“baby,” you start, “are you awake?” after getting no response, you decide to let yourself sleep a little longer. that’s when you see him twitch. a micro-movement by the corner of his mouth.

“oh you are” you smirk and giggle as your fingers find his midsections. “seungieee” you sing song. before he can pull away, you start poking and ticking his belly. his eyes shoot open. “wait- wa- wait! stop stop! i am awake! okay?!”

you surrender and he sighs out of contentment. “my sensitive boy” you whisper as you hold him. he blushes but nuzzles into you none the less. “can we just snuggle a little more?”

sub!seungmin who acts confident and cocky when out in public with you or with the members but the second you two have privacy the roles are reversed

“there’s no way” you hear changbin say. you walk into the green room and see seungmin nod. “no way what?” you speak up. the two boys turn to you. Seungmin suddenly nervous and Changbin smirking.

“seungmin tops you?” Changbin asks. Seungmin looks down, expecting the worst and your jaw drops. “um excuse me…? did he… say that?” you respond, shyly, going along with the bit.

Changbin throws an arm around Seungmin’s shoulders. “yep. I asked him why he wasn’t at the gym last night and he said he was too busy fulfilling your needs” you throw seungmin a glance before deciding to play along.

later that night, you and seungmin have just walked into your apartment. you close the door with a click and the air is thick. “well? are you going to ‘fulfill my needs’ or what dog boy?

nsfw:

sub!seungmin who loves being on his knees for you. being an idol is a busy, stressful job that sometimes makes seungmin feel like he has to do everything. when he’s with you, sometimes he just needs to shut off his brain and let you take over.

“aw baby” you click your tongue, looking at the man in front of you. seung’s on his knees, eyes glazed over and cheeks and ears red. he’s not embarrassed or shy though, he’s right where he wants to be.

you bring your thumb to his lips and you don’t even have to say it out loud for him to obey your command. he takes your thumb into his mouth, closes his eyes and sucks like its his nine to five.

when you pull away he whines, only for the sweet noise to become a whimper when you bring your lips to his. his hips buck forward into the air.

“i think you’ve been good enough. this pup deserves a reward, yeah?” you tease and seungmin nods his head vigorously. you lay him back on your bed and pull his waistband down.

sub!seungmin who cant help but malfunction anytime you call him some sort of dog name. no matter where you are if you call him, pup/puppy, dog/doggy, or anything of the sort, he’s automatically red in the face and hard in his pants.

as soon as lee know’s finished making dinner, seungmin makes sure to bring the first dish to you “here you go baby” he say, confident and all.

“thanks puppy” you say with a wide grin as you set the plate down and ruffle his hair. seung stutters, blushes, and quickly looks around to see if any of the boys heard you. his body is already reacting.

“b-babe i told you not to- to call me… that” he says. he starts to feel a tent form in his pants and excuses himself to the bathroom, sparing you a bratty glance.

after 5 minutes of no seungmin you decide to go check on him. you open the bathroom door to find a very frustrated seungmin. his shirt is tucked under his chin, he’s leaning against the wall, he’s sweating and his hair is messed up.

your eyes wander down to see his pants messily pulled down just enough to get his leaky cock out. he’s whining, looking at you pleadingly, as he quickly strokes himself. “please baby. please help me. i- i can’t do it baby. i need you” he admits.

you slowly walk over to him and sink to your knees. “I know you do puppy” you wink at him and take him into your mouth.

sub!seungmin who gets overstimulated so, so easily. if he’s already cum once, he twitches like crazy if you touch him after.

you just finished riding seungmin like your life depends on it. your tired, but not tired enough to not be tempted by the way he looks right now.

he’s so fucked out that you get wet all over again just looking at him. his eyelids are heavy, taking slow blink with dried tears under his eyes. he’s still sweaty and panting, looking like he just ran a marathon, spoiler alert: you guys had one round.

looking at his half hard cock, you get a wonderful idea. your nails graze his soaked tip and his whole body immediately jerks. “b- babe! what are y-you doing…?” he asked, eyes wide open.

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

you’d always thought of him as sunshine.

everyone did.

even when he wasn’t smiling, felix had a glow to him, 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.

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 his 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, this is 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. 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.

“well that was gross.”

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.”

“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 partners and friends—you didn’t hesitate to bring felix. he looked so good that night, dressed in soft black slacks and a black button up that hugged his torso a little too well for your sanity. 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. 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. and 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, were valid questions.

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 offer even an ounce of attention that could be mistaken as anything more than manners.

and 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 with you. he didn’t need to punish you or mirror your actions to prove a point. he didn’t crack under pressure or 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 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 again—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 noticeably 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. and...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. “what, how'd you know—i mean...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 fond. “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 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 even worse, you were starting to feel like you should give up. felix had been so patient, so kind through all of it, and suddenly, you just felt silly and immature. you had something so good, and you were trying to poke at him.

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.

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

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

you stepped back, breath calming a little when you realized it wasn't too bad. “it's okay, 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 turned the sink on and ushered you to come over. “were you even paying attention?”

your lips parted, stunned putting your finger under the running water. “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 his rumbling voice. but also 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 as you stumbling onto a chair.

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 your angered boyfriend.

he grabbed a bandaid, 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, putting it in your hand. “don’t bleed on the tile, you'll make it dirty.”

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.

felix crouched in front of you, his hand ghosting over yours.

you swallowed. 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 apologizing even though you had started this whole mess.

you hadn’t even pissed him off correctly. 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.

“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.

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 he had all the time in the world to worship every inch of you. his tongue was working you open so slowly you wanted to scream. and he kept murmuring sweet things between licks.

felix’s tongue traced a slow line up your slit, lips closing over your clit. he groaned softly into you, the sound vibrating through your core, and his arms curled tighter around your thighs, anchoring you in place. 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, lips gliding over your clit, tongue flicking in slow, circles that had your thighs quivering. he was 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, 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. he continued until your hips twitched and a loud moan slipped out without thinking.

and then he paused. just for a second, making you curse internally.

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 brows were drawn, just slightly, and his voice—when it came—was low and firm, not scolding just yet but edged with something you didn't know he had.

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

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, then back up to your face. now it was no longer just disbelief. it was almost possessive.

“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. “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, 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.

“you really think i don’t know?”

you swallowed hard.

“that you’ve been bratty for days,” he said, “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 distracted that time—”

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.

he just stared, his grip on your jaw unrelenting, eyes dark and unforgiving as they searched your face.

“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. “look at you. shaking like a leaf, soaking the fucking sheets—just because i stopped being nice.”

you winced.

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.

“you’re pathetic,” he said, letting go of your jaw. 

he pushed you back roughly. 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.

“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.

he was 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.

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 very much clear. you knew it for what it was.

you nodded, frantic. fast. whining as you tried to roll your hips, tried to force him inside, 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.

“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.”

his cock pushed in deep, slow at first. he wanted to draw it out, make it last.

“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 put your ankles over his shoulders. “you fucking asked for it.”

he growled as he looked down at you, at the tears rolling over your cheeks, at the way your mouth opened and closed.

you met his glare with a slight 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 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?” 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.

“who?” he shouted again, voice rising.

and you said it.

rather, whimpered it.

half-mindless, but not mindless enough.

“seungmin.”

felix went still.

then he laughed, bitterly

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

you whimpered out, trying to say something along the lines of sorry.

“here i am,” he snarled, voice dropping to a whisper, “loving you dearly. holding you when you cry.”

he slammed into you again and 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.

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

“you weren’t trying? 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’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—"

“shut up.”

you bit your lip to silence a sob. he looked down at your flushed face.

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

“do you think you deserve it?” he bit out.

you shook your head, “no,” you gasped, barely a whisper.

“you know your place.”

your cunt clenched around him, a helpless flutter, and he groaned, rolling his hips harder into yours.

“i'll be generous so go on then,” he snarled. “cum for me.”

once you heard those words you came with a muffled scream as you covered your mouth with your hand. it hit so hard you thought for a second you might black out. felix groaned. a sound ripped from the very pit of his chest, his pace faltering for the first time as he felt it.

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

he shuddered against you, hips twitching as he came inside of you a few thrusts later, filling you. then, gently, slowly, his body folded over yours. his forehead pressed your neck as he stayed there, breathing with you.

he slipped his cock out and you whimpered from the loss.

“i love you, felix.”

he was still breathing hard against your neck.

“i love you so much, baby.” he whispered, voice hoarse against your throat.

his lips pressing over yours as you kissed him back gently. when he pulled away, you blinked up at him, dazed.

“again?”

the next morning, you woke up sore. the sheets around you were a little crooked, the pillow beside you empty.

you blinked blearily and reached for your phone, but something else 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 and 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.

seungmin 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?”

“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. you didn't know what to make of it.

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, 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.

when you pulled back first, you reached into the pocket of his hoodie. he watches you with mild curiosity until you pull your hand out again, pinching a few folded bills between your fingers.

“i’ll treat you today,” you announced, very pleased with yourself. “we'll go somewhere nice for lunch."

felix’s gaze flicked from the money, to your face, then over your shoulder. straight to seungmin.

there’s a beat where he just stands there, processing it all, and then he laughed. he shook his head, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“i wonder where you got that from.” he said, still smiling.

you huff, shoulders slumping a little as you tuck the bills back toward your pocket. you jabbed a finger into felix's chest.

Seungmin wakes up the morning after with a splitting headache and a sense of regret that he can’t seem to place just yet. His mouth tastes like morning breath and alcohol, his hair feels like it’s in a million directions, and the pounding of his head only worsens as he tries to lift himself up. He flops back down helplessly, letting out a little grumble when he realizes the floor is cold. He supposes he probably should get up, but part of his brain registers that he doesn’t have anything on his schedule until late afternoon, so he lets himself lay there like a ragdoll on the floor for a little longer. 

He blinks his bleary eyes open again not even a moment later, his stomach suddenly deciding to grumble loudly, and he groans again. Of course he’s hungry right now, right when the floor was just starting to feel comfy enough to drag him back to sleep. He huffs, the headache pounds at the inside of his skull again, and the world spins as he struggles to get himself into a sitting position against the couch behind him.

He realizes with sudden clarity that this is not his and Felix’s dorm. He squints at the entertainment stand in front of him, too organized and a little too boring to be his.

“Finally awake?” A gentle voice calls from the left, and Seungmin’s head lolls as he looks over to find Chan peering at him from the kitchen, “I made breakfast. Figured your head was killing you, I’ve got your hangover coffee brewing.”

Seungmin gets a flash of a memory for a moment, of sitting down with Chan for drinks in his dorm, and then stars flash behind his eyelids and he doesn’t get the luxury of thinking anymore. He just wheezes out another groan, and Chan sighs.

“C’mon, you big baby, you did this to yourself,” Chan says, and Seungmin hears his feet thud thud thudding closer, “Up we go.”

Seungmin makes a weak sound of protest in the back of his throat, but Chan ignores him, lifting him off the ground like he weighs nothing and carrying him into the kitchen. The kitchen light is too bright too much and Seungmin whimpers, burying his face in Chan’s neck to hide from the way it scrapes against his eyes. If he was in a better headspace he’d be embarrassed, but right now Chan is warm and his head is throbbing, so Seungmin lets himself give in to some of his instincts.

He makes an unhappy noise when Chan puts him down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, deprived of both warmth and the shoulder that was protecting his eyes from the light, but Chan just ruffles his hair and pulls away from him easily. Seungmin pouts at his back, watching as Chan carefully pours a cup of coffee for him and brings it over. His smile at Seungmin’s pouty face is almost more blinding than the light that he was hiding from before, and Seungmin has to squint to even look at him.

Chan doesn’t say a word, just slides the mug over to him and putters back off to the kitchen. He looks far too awake and alert for a guy that was also drunk last night, and Seungmin would be jealous if he had the capacity to maintain any feeling other than pain and sleepy right now. He lets his head fall to the table, hoping the dull ache from hitting his head on the wood might snap some sense into him (it doesn’t). He thinks he’s starting to drift off again to the smell of coffee and something sweet when Chan nudges his shoulder gently.

“Dude. Drink your coffee, we have lines to record later,” He reprimands, though it’s said with so much fondness it hardly lands, “Plus, I made pancakes. Please eat while they’re still warm.”

Seungmin grumbles unintelligibly but still complies. Chan settles in across from him and scrolls on his phone while he eats, glancing up at Seungmin every so often, like he’s checking in on him. It takes about half the cup of coffee for Seungmin’s head to de-fog, and the wave of embarrassment punches him in the face the second he has enough clarity to remember himself.

“...thanks for taking care of me, hyung.” He murmurs quietly, just loud enough for Chan to hear.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you~” Chan sings, cooing when Seungmin’s ears go red and he glares at him.

“Never mind! I’m never saying anything nice to you ever again,” Seungmin says, stabbing his pancake a little too hard, “You heard me just fine.”

Chan grins, and reaches across the table to try to ruffle his hair again. This time, Seungmin’s awake enough to smack his hand away and give him a deadpan glare, which just makes Chan’s snort, nose crinkling and eyes disappearing into half-crescents. He leans his chin on his hand instead as he stares Seungmin down, still smiling.

“You’re so cute, Seungmo!” He coos, giggling when Seungmin’s face scrunches in displeasure, “Aegyo, look at you! You’re getting all red, my blushy little dongsaeng~”

“Shut up, hyung,” Seungmin huffs, “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Than take care of my dongsaeng? Never,” Chan says, with such sincerity that Seungmin finds it hard to keep playing like he doesn’t like Chan’s attention, “Seungmin’s much more important than whatever else I need to do.”

That’s just code for “I already did all the work I could physically do”, because Seungmin knows for a fact that Chan prioritizes work over just about everything. Still, the sentiment is nice, so he just rolls his eyes, avoiding Chan’s eyes.

“Thank you, hyung,” he says, as sincerely as he can grit out, “You do too much for us.”

Chan makes a pleased little sound, and Seungmin looks over long enough to catch him smiling at Seungmin with that same, annoying fondness that he heard in his voice earlier. Seungmin rolls his eyes again, and they finish breakfast in a comfortable silence.

Chan reminds him to be on time to the studio later as he sees him out (as if Seungmin has ever been late), and Seungmin takes the short walk back to his own dorm, head no longer pounding and legs only a little uncoordinated. Thank god for Channie hyung, he muses, and notes that he should probably thank him properly later. Not with words - god forbid Seungmin uses his words - but with something else. The stupid dinky keychain Chan had been looking at on his phone the other day ends up getting ordered, despite how “dumb” Seungmin had told him it looked, and he thinks he’ll grab some of the snacks that Chan likes from the convenience store before he drops into the studio.

He opens Google to look up the convenience store’s hours (he can’t imagine they aren’t open in the middle of the day, but Seungmin likes to be sure) and that’s when he sees it.

Why the hell is Pornhub open on my phone? He thinks, blinking down at his phone like it’s cursed. It must be, because he watches in rapt horror as a guy in what seems to be dog ears humps against someone’s foot. No one’s in the dorm but him, but Seungmin still scrambles to click his phone off, embarrassment heating his face. He misses, though, fingers slippery in their desperation, and instead the volume clicks up up up, and he can hear the voices of the two people on screen.

“Such a dirty boy, humping my shoe like a dog.”

Seungmin shivers, the condescending tone of the person above the boy on screen making his stomach do a weird flip. The boy with the ears on whimpers, tongue lolling out and eyes rolling back as his hips kick up, and Seungmin watches with wide eyes as he begs to come. Slurred pleas and little “mong mong”s slip out of his mouth, and the person above him reaches down to loop two fingers into the thick collar he’s wearing, giving it one solid tug.

“Come.”

Seungmin doesn’t realize the whine that he heard didn’t come from the screen until he snaps back into himself and turns the volume back down, shutting his phone off in a hurry. The sound of his own noise hovers in the air, but he tries to ignore it. He catches his reflection in the black of his phone screen, mouth parted in a little ‘o’ and cheeks flushed scarlet, and he drops his phone, not wanting to see himself any longer.

Everything from last night comes back in a flash, from the way that Chan bristled when he passed him the phone to the way that heat curled up his spine when Chan had called him a mutt. He groans to himself, sound echoing off the too empty walls of the dorm. He knows he gets a little…risque, when he’s drunk, but he figured he had it together enough to not go and show Chan porn on his phone! The petplay stuff had only been on his mind because he had found a pair of cat ears in Jisung’s room the other day when he had asked to borrow a charger. Jisung had told him that he could just go grab one, so Seungmin had gone digging in the drawer that Jisung said it would be in, only to find a sleek pair of cat ears in there, right next to the cord he needed. He had half the mind to grab them and wear them out, make some joke about how he couldn’t find the charger but had found something far more interesting, but then he thought about the blackmail they would have if they got a picture of him in those things, and let them be.

Doesn’t mean he let it go, though. No, the second he made it into the living room where Jisung and Minho were perched, he opened his dumb mouth, ready to make a little fun of them.

“So which one of you is the Discord kitten?” He says bluntly, not even looking over at the two of them as he goes to plug his phone into the wall.

“What?” Jisung says, and he hears Minho sputter on his water.

“You heard me,” Seungmin says absentmindedly, huffing when he tries to insert the USB end in the wrong way, still not looking back, “Which one of you is the kitten?”

He had expected some sort of silly joke, assuming that the cat ears were just a gag gift or left over from a fan sign, but the sharp silence dragged out a little too long, and Seungmin tilted his head to look at the two of them lazily.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he said, eyebrows furrowing, “It’s not my fault you put the cat ears right next to the phone charger.”

Minho hisses something into Jisung’s ear quietly, too quiet for Seungmin to catch, but he watches the way that Minho’s ears go bright red and his grip on Jisung’s hand tightens dramatically. Minho looks like he wants to bury himself in a hole and disappear forever, and Seungmin doesn’t quite understand-

“Geez, you go around asking about everybody’s sex life like that, Seungmin-ah?” Jisung says sheepishly, yelping when Minho jabs at him, “What? No point in denying it now.”

Oh.

“...what?” Seungmin responds, bewildered. “I just- I assumed they were a joke thing-”

“It’s called pet play, my dear dongsaeng,” Jisung says, suddenly confident now that Seungmin’s turning red, too, “So basically, Minho puts on the ears and a collar and sometimes even a tail-oooww!”

Minho slaps a hand over Jisung’s mouth and digs his fingers into his side, cheeks on fire and looking anywhere but Seungmin. Not that Seungmin would know, because the spot behind Jisung’s head is suddenly very interesting, and he can’t seem to look at either of them.

“I’m barely younger than you, don’t call me dongsaeng,” he huffs, putting himself on the furthest end of the couch from the duo, “I didn’t know it was a sex thing. Please don’t tell me about your sexcapades, because, for the last time, I do not want to know.”

Minho had cut the conversation off there (before Jisung blabbed any more about their sex life, thank god), and Seungmin had pretended not to think about it for a few days. Unfortunately, his natural curiosity got the better of him, and the night before he and Chan had gotten drunk together, he had been browsing the internet. For research purposes, obviously, because Seungmin didn’t like that he didn’t actually know what the hell Jisung had been talking about. He had made it seem like such common knowledge that Seungmin had felt a little dumb, and if there’s anything that Seungmin hates, well, it’s feeling dumb, so he had to go digging for answers himself. He sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Jisung, because it gives Jisung the satisfaction of knowing something he doesn’t, and it also means that Seungmin’s going to learn way more about his and Minho’s sex life than he would ever want to know. He pictures Minho in the cat ears again for a breath and throws up a little in his mouth.

Which is why it had been a little fresh on his mind, he supposes, and why he had even remembered it enough to drunkenly bring it up to Chan last night. He groans again, and thinks that he has to get Chan even more snacks now, because he deserves a thank you and an apology. Seungmin vows to act like he completely forgot that they ever had that conversation, and he just prays that Chan’s in the same boat. He’s in luck, because when he gets to the studio, Chan doesn’t act like anything’s wrong, so far in leader mode that he’s trying to refuse Seungmin’s snack offering because they “aren’t good before singing, Seungminnie!” Seungmin huffs, but the tension in his shoulder dissipates, and he tries not to ever think about the stupid porn video he showed Chan ever again.

It’s a few days later when his brain decides to bring it back into his mind.  Mostly because it’s been plaguing his dreams, and you’ve been picking up on his weird energy.

“What’s bothering you? You’re a little space-y, lately.” You had asked him earnestly over dinner the other night, and Seungmin had acted unsure, so you dropped it.

…but then he had another wet dream that following night, and he thinks he knows that, certainly, that must be the problem.

Seungmin’s not the type to have that kind of dream in the first place - he has a partner who has sex with him on the regular, and his brain doesn’t have to get that kind of desperate anymore - so it throws him off kilter. He can never remember what the dreams were about either, just can feel the aftermath of sticky underwear and hear the soft curl of your voice, taunting him from his dreams. He wakes up one morning and his neck feels empty, and he scratches at it until he’s awake enough to snap himself out of it. Another night, he wakes up with his own fingers pressed into his mouth, dried spit coating his hand, arm, and pillow. It’s gross, and he takes an extra long shower after he drags himself out of bed (much to Felix’s chagrin, who whines about the hot water being lukewarm later). The third night he wakes up with his pillow between his legs, fingers desperately curled into it to pull it closer. 

The stupid video he showed Chan continues to haunt him, and Seungmin comes to the conclusion that maybe his subconscious is trying to get him to spice things up in the bedroom a little bit. You’re by no means completely vanilla in the sex you have with Seungmin, but something like petplay was out of the range of the things you’ve done. Seungmin wonders if the two of you are vanilla, considering that Seungmin didn’t even know what petplay was until Jisung brought it up. Though he gets the feeling that anyone is vanilla compared to Han Jisung, so he pushes that thought away.

He only lasts one more day before he’s nervously looking up “petplay” again. He did a full sweep of the dorm first, making sure Felix was 1000% not home right now, and then locks his bedroom door and slips his headphones on. One incognito tab later, he’s looking at the same boy he had been that night. He finds that it’s a different video from the same creator, but it evokes the same response in him - a deep, curling heat settles in his stomach, his head feels fuzzy, and his cock leaks in interest. Seungmin doesn’t even realize he’s pressing his palm into the outline of his cock and grinding up until the video autoplays to a different one, and he feels the stickiness of his own precum on his hand. 

There’s a sense of shame that hangs over his head as he keeps exploring, and he wonders if it’s because he’s exploring this without you. Surely that must be it, but this sort of thing can’t just be sprung on you. Seungmin needs to do the proper research, figure out all the nooks and crannies of the kink before he even considers bringing you into it with him. He would never want to hurt you, after all, so that’s why the “one night” exploration turns into a nightly ritual. Doors locked, headphones on, incognito tab pulled up to his favorite creator - a different guy than the one he showed Chan, mostly because he’s more vocal than the first guy - and Seungmin’s grinding up into his palm again, watching with rapt eyes as the boy on screen gets treated like a stupid dog.

He imagines you in that position, at his feet. He imagines you with cute little dog ears on that match your hair, a collar that has his name engraved on the back, a little plug stretching you open, a short tail connected to it. It’s not as satisfying as watching the guy in the videos, but Seungmin chalks that up to his poor imagination and the fact that it would feel so much better to do it to you in person.

One of the nights Seungmin brings his laptop to his bed, sick of jerking off in his desk chair like a total loser. He’s not really sure he can even call it “jerking off” anymore, not with the way he’s painting the inside of his boxers white just from humping into his own palm, but he tries not to think about it. I’m just playing into the dynamic of the videos, he reasons with himself, nothing wrong with that. It’s not like he’s actually interested in being the one at your feet. He’s sure he would want it to be the other way around.

He’s snapped back into reality when a sharp moan rings out in his ears, and the puppy boy on screen is fucking into a soft, stuffed rabbit. Seungmin’s breath catches, and he’s swarmed with how good it must feels, to fuck your cock against something so nice and soft. Something so innocent getting all tarnished with your precum, until you stain it white with your release like a mutt. 

He’s panting without realizing it, body shifting to mimic the boy on the screen. But he has no plush rabbit to fuck, and he rolls his hips into the air with a soft whine, cock straining and red already just from watchin the boy on screen hump his stuffed bunny. His hips follow the motions, but it’s not enough, and his fingers are fumbling around the bed, frantic, eyes unable to look anywhere but the screen. The person off-screen laughs, high and tinkling, as the boy can’t seem to keep a steady rhythm.

“Puppy’s so desperate that he can’t even get himself off? Do I really need to help you with everything, you dumb mutt?”

Seungmin slips a pillow under him and whines along with the boy on screen, the friction finally enough, and his hips start to hump at their own rhythm. It’s almost uncontrollable how he humps them against the soft fabric of the pillow case, hips uncoordinated and frantic, heat curling in his abdomen as the person off-screen steps into frame, arms curling around the desperate boy and helping him guide his hips.

“That feel better, pup? Just needed someone to help you, hmm? So dumb puppy, there we go…”

Their voice trails off as they take control of the boy’s pace, nipping gently at a sensitive spot below his ear just to make him squirm. Seungmin squirms along with him, and he can feel the ghost of your breath on his neck, can feel your fingers digging into his hips, and hear your voice in his ears, and-

“Come.”

He knows, logically, that it’s the person on the other side of the screen saying it, but his mind is muddled, filled with cotton and puppy thoughts like hump and mate, and he swears that it’s your voice ringing in his ears, telling him to come. He pants, hips unable to stop even after the burn of overstimulation sinks in, because he hasn’t been told to stop. His face feels wet, tears streaking down his cheeks and mixing with the drool sneaking out of the corner of his mouth, but he’s too floaty to feel anything other than pleasure.

He doesn’t know how many times he comes that night, but he knows it’s a lot, because his underwear and the pillow underneath him are stained with his cum, and he wrinkles his nose when the pillowcase all of crunches when he becomes conscious enough to shift off of it. He immediately strips it and tosses all of cum-stained nonsense into his hamper, praying that there’s never a world where his room goes under black light any time soon.

There’s that flare of shame again, swirling in the pits of his stomach, but he once again presses it down, deadset on ignoring it until it disappears. He’s done his research now, really, and he’s probably over-qualified at this point in regards to puppy play. He tried to watch a kitty play video once, but he remembers the ears at Minho and Jisung’s dorm, remembers how he imagined Minho would look in them, and gets sick to his stomach all over again. So he sticks to the puppy play stuff, telling himself every time when the post-nut clarity starts to set in that it’s just because he wants to try it with you.

He likes to think that his recent…escapades aren’t affecting his performance in the bedroom with you. In the beginning, they really aren’t, because he’s only breached the surface of his curiosity. It’s just a thing that his pervert hyung and his equally perverted other hyung are into, and he wants to see what the hype is about. 

But the further he descends into it, when the nightly ritual becomes a necessary part of his bedtime routine, the more you’re picking up on some sort of shift. And it’s really subtle, at first. Seungmin had always been a dominant force with you in the bedroom, but he’d openly expressed on multiple occasions that one of his favorite things you did in the bedroom was fight back.

“I like a brat,” he had told you once, grinning when your cheeks flushed, “It makes it so much more fun to break them.”

Sometimes, he does need total control, and you get that - when things feel completely out of control, it’s nice to have control of one thing, even if it’s only for the night. But most nights, he wants that fight, wants to watch that spark in your eye dim to a glassy haze as your thoughts get muddled and your mind turns to mush under his harsh fingers. He’s not a gentle lover, and you love it, love the way that you can fight tooth and nail and still end up pressed into the sheets, pleading with him for more.

So, naturally, any shift in this dynamic would be noticeable to you. You notice right away when Seungmin gets a little…worse at controlling your bratting. You don’t necessarily think he’s bad at it, per se, but it takes him longer to reel you in, and sometimes, when you use your body weight to roll the two of you over and pin him to the bed, his eyes get a little glassy, his breath a little shorter. Before, he’d give you that lazy grin and make you grind against him, nice and slow, hands on your hips to guide your pace, and laugh as you cried for more. He’d watch you through hooded eyes, buck his hips up to meet you every once and a while just to tease, and keep your hips in that bruising grip of his. His lithe frame makes him look weak, but the years of dancing have treated him well, and he’s got the kind of subtle muscle that makes it hard to fight back against him. 

But recently, that muscle doesn’t come out to play as often. When you flip the two of you, he lets you have your way for a little too long, fingers loose around your hips as you grind at your own pace, chasing a peak that you’re hoping he won’t let you hit, because you want to come around his cock, not in your underwear. He lets you fight his hands to the side of his head with a hitched breath, your fingers digging into his wrists as you hump against him. 

Seungmin had hinted at being a little bit of a switch very early on into your relationship and hadn’t brought it up since, so you had assumed the dynamic you had was where he wanted to be, but his recent behaviour makes you think otherwise. You don’t mind the shift - it makes your playful fighting feel more even, and it makes him a little meaner once he does decide to be dominant - but it’s never been addressed, and it’s confusing you a little bit.

You think the strangest part is that he doesn’t seem to notice it right away. It’s as if he’s a little less present in those moments where he slips up, and they’re purged from his mind by the time that the two of you are done with your fun for the night. He’s the same old Seungmin before and after those moments, as if the little hints of something aren’t slipping through the cracks. He’s hard to read, but you like to think that you’re getting good at it, and you really do think that he doesn’t notice the way your dynamic is shifting.

Or, if he does, he’s doing a very, very good job at hiding it. There’s no telltale signs of typical Seungmin shenanigans - no slight smirks, no tilts of the head, no ears turning red, no anything that would indicate that Seungmin himself is aware of the shift.

Seungmin only thinks you’re catching on to his newfound fascination when he catches you watching an edit of him on the couch. He slots his head next to yours from over the back of the couch, grinning when you jump and try to angle your phone away.

“What’re you watchin’?” he asks, “Edits of your handsome, sexy boyfriend?”

“Edits of my cute boyfriend,” you counter, already sick of his nonsense, “Look at this one. They’re comparing you to a puppy here!”

You play the video for him, cooing when they show old fan meet videos of him in Pochacco hoods or with dog ears on. Seungmin’s not really watching, not when there’s static filling his ears, his mind grabbing on to the way you said puppy so easily. He inherently knows you aren’t calling him that, but it still makes something he can’t place swirl in his stomach. He wonders how it would feel rolling off of his tongue, if it would sound as pretty as when you say it, as intoxicating as the way the word sounds when your mouth’s the one forming the shape.

“Puppy Seungminnie is so cute,” you coo, “We should get you one of these cute hoodies for home!”

“A-absolutely not.” He retorts, but even he can hear the way his voice falters, the way it sounds almost frail right now.

“Why nooooot?” You whine, tilting your head to look at him, and then grinning.

You reach a finger up to poke at his cheeks, amused, and he puffs them out at you just to see you grin even bigger. You squish his cheeks between your thumb and forefinger in response, gently shaking his head.

“Aw, are you embarrassed?” You say, giggling, not noticing the way that Seungmin’s cheeks are heating up under your fingers.

“‘m not,” he mumbles, though it comes out muffled from the way you’re squishing his face, “Let me go.”

You release him with a sigh, stretching languidly off the couch, “Shame you won’t get one. I want to have puppy Seungmin at home, too, not just at fan meets I can’t attend.”

“Stop calling me that.” He says, nose crinkling, ears red, and you drop it.

That very night, when Seungmin’s performing his now-daily ritual of humping his pillow until his brain’s melting out of his ears, he finds himself scrolling through an online store. He’d been doing a little research on the side, on safe websites to buy the sort of gear he’s interested in, and the website he’s on right now is probably the top recommended one. He finds a pair of nice, floppy ears that come as a set with a tail plug, the reviews all affirming how soft the fur is, and he must still be hazy in the afterglow, because he’s adding it to his cart without a second thought. The color isn’t really your hair color - if he looked long enough, he’d realize just how close to his current hair it is - but he likes the look of it, and the plug seems to be right in that middle ground between too small and too big, so Seungmin thinks it’s a good one to start with. 

He places the order before he can second guess it, and then, before he can use the rational part of his brain to stop himself, he opens another tab. This website is chock full of collars, or varying sizes and colors, but he keeps it simple - just a plain black collar with a silver loop at the front, the perfect size to slip a few fingers through and pull with. He rubs at his own neck subconsciously, thinking about how the collar would feel - would feel on you. Certainly not on himself. That’s not why he was doing all of this research. He was doing this for you, because he’s just such a good boyfriend. There were no ulterior motives underlying his actions, certainly not.

He forgets about the order pretty quickly, too caught up in schedules and you and his little nighttime ritual. He misses it one night because of a long dance rehearsal, Minho unable to let them leave the practice room until they got the choreo perfect, and Seungmin’s cranky the whole next day, snapping at anyone and everyone. Chan has to pull him aside and tell him to get his shit together to get Seungmin to, well…get his shit together. It’s embarrassing, and Seungmin thinks he needs to break his new nighttime habit before it becomes an issue down the line, when they’re touring and he can’t exactly go ham on a hotel pillow.

And then, two discrete boxes show up outside the dorm. It’s perfect timing, really - Felix is gone for the next three days for some fashion ambassador thing Seungmin should’ve asked more questions about - and when Seungmin opens the mystery packages and sees the results of his post-nut clarity not hitting him fast enough, well, he’s not complaining.

The reviews hadn’t lied, he notes, as he rubs the fur between his fingers. It’s incredibly soft, and Seungmin spends a little too long just petting at it before he snaps out of it. The collar is in the smaller of the two boxes, kept in a box within the box, and Seungmin carefully slides it out of the packaging, inspecting it. The silver loop glints in the light of his kitchen, and he admires the feel of the leather, just soft enough not to burn but tough enough to feel. That edge of pain is something he knows both of you enjoy, so the collar is perfect. All of the gear is perfect.

…the only issue Seungmin sees is that it hasn’t been tested yet. How will he know how good it’ll make you feel if he doesn’t try it out himself? Obviously, this is a very reasonable conclusion for him to make, and he pats himself on the back as he gathers all of the new toys and brings them to his bedroom. He’s really boyfriend of the year material, testing out the toys he bought for you on himself first to make sure they’re of good quality. You should give him an award, truly. What if it’s a bad batch, and the metal of the plug actually melts inside of you somehow? He can’t have that happen.

Which is why he’s slipping himself out of his clothes in the bedroom, new toys placed carefully on the bed. He’s home alone for a while, so he doesn’t feel any shame when he has to go to the bathroom to clean himself up a little and decides to leave his clothes in the bedroom.

He showers and cleans himself up, unused to the strange pressure inside of him as he does. It’s not terrible, per se, but it’s not a feeling he’s used to, and the fullness makes him a little dizzy, but he cleans himself out dutifully. He has to make sure that this test run is as accurate as possible for your sake, of course. 

He fluffs his damp hair up and loosely wraps the towel around himself once he’s done, padding back to his own bedroom carelessly. How lucky was he to be home alone on a free day? Seungmin loves Felix to death, but there’s something magical about having the space to himself today. Especially when his pretty toys came in the mail. He thinks absentmindedly that he should invite you over later, take you over the surfaces of the house he usually wouldn’t dare to with Felix home. He files that away for later, a pleasant hum of arousal under his skin right now a more pressing matter.

The ears fit his head perfectly as he slips them on, and he feels a little lighter when they settle on his head. They’ve got just enough weight on them for him to know they’re there, but not so much so that they feel heavy on his head. He grabs the well-loved bottle of lube from his nightstand and gets onto the sheets, on his hands and knees. His only frame of reference for how the puppies always get opened up for their plug is just like this - presenting like a bitch in heat, ass high in the air and face pressed into the sheets. Seungmin likes the way it feels, how exposed he feels like this. He can feel himself slipping away as he teases a lubed finger around his rim, shivering at how cold it feels against him. Gently, ever so gently, he slips a finger in. 

It hurts. Seungmin barely gets the first finger in before he’s hissing in pain, the length and girth of just one of his fingers enough to burn. He figured cleaning himself out earlier would’ve kept him nice and loose, but he supposes since he’s never been opened up before, it’s not a surprise that he’s so tight again already. He takes a shaky breath - in through the nose, out through the mouth - and convinces his body to relax. 

Once he can breathe evenly again and there’s no burning sensation left, Seungmin carefully curls his finger, exploring. The pleasant feeling of fullness returns, although it’s not as pleasant as before, and he lets his finger slide out slowly, and then back in. It feels…good, he supposes, but almost like something is missing. He pushes in and out, feeling the squeezing of his walls around his finger, but it’s still not quite right.

He hears a whining sound, pitiful and weak, and he whips his head around only to realize that the sound is coming out of his mouth. He makes another weak sound at that, finger sliding a little more desperately not that he knows he can take it, but it’s still not enough. He desperately presses in a second lubed finger, and his eyes roll back in his head.

The fullness is better now, though not perfect, and the stretch has become a pleasant burn. Seungmin finds he can start moving the two fingers far faster than he got just the one moving, and the presence of a second finger has given him the ability to scissor himself open even wider. He moans at the sensation, voice almost unrecognizable in pitch, and it makes him squirm. He neglected cock leaks between his legs, but he doesn’t even consider touching it, too busy trying to stretch himself open wide enough for a third finger.

He slips the third finger in and he thinks he ascends. He wonders how the plug is going to feel, if just three fingers is enough to have his eyes rolling back in his skull and weak little sounds getting punched out of him. Little ah ah ah!s sneak out of his mouth as his fingers get a little harsher in their thrusts, too desperate now to keep the pace slow. He curls his fingers again, still exploratory in the throws of his pleasure, and oh.

There’s a little place inside of him that feels different under his fingers, but he doesn’t have long to think about it, because he presses down as hard as he can, and he’s coming. It’s like an instinctual reaction, and Seungmin drools all over the sheets and wails as he keeps pressing down on that spot, milking himself for all he’s worth. It feels so insanely good that Seungmin thinks for a moment that surely he must’ve died, because nothing is meant to feel that kind of good. It’s a full body experience, the little spot inside of him sending sparks through every limb and pure heat up his spine. He feels like he’s on fire, panting as he presses that spot again and again, addicted to the pleasure that’s blurring his thoughts. He’s hard again already, body protesting but Seungmin doesn’t care, because it feels too good, and he doesn’t want to think about anything other than feeling good.

He peels his eyes open now (when had he closed them?) just to catch the glint of the metal plug next to his head. Seungmin remembers fuzzily that the whole point of stuffing his fingers in himself had been to slip the pretty plug that matches his ears in, so he begrudgingly pulls his fingers out and reaches for the smooth metal.

It’s still cold under his fingers, and it makes Seungmin shiver when he gently runs the tip around his rim. If he were inserting this into you, Seungmin would tease and make you beg for it. Hold it against your rim with just enough pressure for you to feel it, but never let it breach your hole. Rub the metal around until the cool surface has gone warm from the heat of your skin, and your cheeks are streaked with tears.

But Seungmin feels so impatient. Is this how you always feel? He feels so needy, like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get the plug inside of him right now. Fortunately for him, he’s the one in control of the plug, and he presses it into himself frantically, craving that fullness that he was missing without his fingers stuffed inside of him.

He makes an embarrassing sound, something between a moan and a squeal, as he pushes the whole thing in. And maybe he was too impatient, because the flare of the plug is definitely bigger than his fingers, and he sobs as it stretches him open far wider than he had been stretched before. It hurts, but it hurts so good, and he pushes it all the way in with a nasty squelch! Excess lube dribbles down his balls, but he doesn’t care, because the plug is inside him, and the pressure is so sickeningly good that he can’t think of anything else. 

He wiggles his hips a bit with the intent to feel the plug pressing against his guts, but it serves to also make the soft fur of the tail brush against the back of his thighs, and Seungmin feels a dopey grin stretch across his face. He clenches around the plug, and the feeling makes him squeak again. 

He feels hot all over, brain muddled and empty, and he fumbles for his favorite pillow. His fingers feel almost useless, bumbling and pawing at the pillow to drag it to the middle of the bed, like he’s a real dog. It makes him shiver, which makes it hard to move the pillow, but he wants to feel good, so he fights through the fog to drag the pillow to the center of the bed.

He straddles it easily, body moving on instinct as he gets ready to hump his pillow, like he has for the past who knows how many nights. It feels different now, dirtier, as every swing of his hips to grind his cock down shifts the thick plug inside of him and swaying the tail behind him. He can feel the plug brush that spot inside of him again, and his hips pick up their pace, trying to find the angle that makes the plug kiss against that sweet spot over and over.

He can’t find it though, not when his thrusts are so sloppy and uneven. He can’t build a pace when his head is full of cotton, can’t even really think, but he still whimpers when he can’t get the plug to make him feel as good as he knows it could.

He is still dragging closer to the edge with ease, but it still feels incomplete. He buries his face in the sheets in front of him, humping harder and sloppier, but it still doesn’t feel quite right. He’s missing something. He's missing you here, you, who’s meant to boss him around, who’s supposed to guide his hips and make sure he feels good. His imagination isn’t enough, and so he just continues to teeter on that edge, feeling naked and weak and too good but not enough. It’s cruel and unusual, he bemoans, hips slowing to a deeper grind when he starts to feel too dumb to keep up the fast pace he was maintaining before.

He still has that feeling of nakedness about him, and he shoves three of his fingers in his own mouth to placate it. It satiates him some, but it’s not enough. He feels raw, like a lightning rod in the middle of a storm, just waiting to be struck. He sobs around his fingers, drool all over his fingers and his hand and the pillow below him, and he drags his other hand to his neck.

The collar.

That’s what he’s missing. The emptiness is radiating from his neck, and he needs it. Needs it more than he needs to come now, even though he knows that, surely, the feeling of the collar around his neck will push him over the edge. He fumbles around the bed, but there’s nothing. He doesn’t feel it, can’t hear it shift over the sound of his own whining and humping, so he’s forced to open his eyes and slow his hips down.

“Looking for this?” A voice cuts through, and it’s as if a bucket of ice water has been dumped over Seungmin’s head.

Because you’re here, in his room, fingers looped through the pretty metal of the collar as you dangle it above his head with a mean grin. 

– – –

In your defense, you hadn’t walked in on him on purpose. Your meeting that was supposed to take up your whole afternoon got cancelled suddenly, and in the name of not having to pay you for five hours of nothing, your boss had “graciously” sent you home (how kind). You had thought about texting Seungmin, inviting him out for lunch or something to fill the void of your usually busy hours, but you knew it would be far more fun to surprise him. It was his day off after all, and Felix was out in Paris for a fashion show with a complicated French name you couldn’t say, so you imagine you and Seungmin could have some fun tonight. You always felt bad for when the two of you had to kick Felix out of the dorm for the night, your apartment walls a little too thin for you to have him over at yours instead.

So, obviously, you had come straight to their dorm, letting yourself in with the spare key that Seungmin had given you. Felix had joked that you’re the unofficial third roommate, and you had laughed, jokingly telling him that you would be taking his room when you made it official.

That was what you were thinking about when you walked into the dorm. It’s oddly empty without Felix, but you don’t even hear the usual hum of the TV from the other room, or the sound of…well, anything.

“Minnie?” You call, not very loud.

Maybe he’s still asleep, you muse, secretly hoping that he is. A good nap with your boyfriend and maybe some cuddlefucking afterwards sounded like a dream.

You walk further into the house, and there’s still no one. The living room is empty, the pillows still arranged perfectly, and you frown. A peek into the kitchen reveals the same eerie emptiness that filled the living room space, although there’s at least signs of life here. Two freshly open packages are set on the table, and your curiosity wins, because you’re peeking into them, curious fingers prying them open.

They’re empty, the only things left bubble wrap and a little generic “thank you for supporting a small business!” note that reveals nothing about what was inside the box. You dig around a bit, but there’s really nothing to reveal their contents to you, so you give up, your curiosity only bigger. What could Seungmin have ordered that he had to try right away? That had him so excited that he hadn’t even bothered to break down the boxes for recycling? 

You hear a muffled sound echo through the apartment, what sounds almost like a whimper, and things click into place. Your boyfriend, who’s been acting weird, who’s been acting a little more submissive, whose empty packages are starting to seem deliberately discrete, is in his bedroom right now. You wonder how he’s spread out, what kind of toy he’s gotten for himself. You wonder if he heard you come in, or if he was too lost in his own pleasure to hear the door unlock or the sound of your voice. So you tiptoe down the hall to his room to see, quiet as you creak his door open.

And oh, what a sight he is.

You had expected that maybe he had gotten himself a fun toy, maybe a little pocket pussy to fuck his hips up into and pretend it was your hole squeezing him instead. Maybe a vibrator, the kind that has the pulsing settings that are perfecting for edging. You certainly hadn’t expected all of this. A pretty puppy, rutting into his pillow and whining like a bitch in heat? You were spoiled. You must’ve been a saint in your past life to have earned the sight in front of you right now.

He’s so in his own world that, even when you close the door behind you and walk over to the bed, he doesn’t hear you. His eyes are screwed shut, his mouth is open, and he’s whining as he pathetically ruts into his pillow below him. His hip movements are so uncontrolled, so unlike the usual Seungmin you know, and it sends a sick thrill running up your spine. A pretty tail swishes behind him with every thrust, a stark contrast against the white of the sheets and the pillow below it, and you want to reach out and give it a tug. You restrain yourself, content to just watch until he feels your eyes on him, but then the glint of something silver on the bed catches your eyes, and you reach out to grab it, watching Seungmin carefully as you do.

In your fingers you find a leather collar, black in color, a silver metal ring at the front that catches the light and makes it shine. You twirl it a few times, feeling it out, and find that it’s the perfect size to use to yank the wearer back. You give it a nice tug, and you find that it holds under pressure.

A louder whimper tears out of Seungmin’s throat, something more akin to a sob, and you turn your full attention back to him. His fingers are exploring the sheets blindly, searching, and you realize with glee that he’s searching for the little piece of leather that’s in your palm right now. His hand sweeps the sheets again, and you watch his eyebrows crinkle in frustration, tears streaking down his cheeks. And, well, you’re not mean. As you watch him crack his eyes open, you open your mouth to speak.

“Looking for this?” You coo, voice sugary sweet, and you watch a flurry of emotions sweep across his face.

Fear is the one you pick out first, and the most prominent one. There’s heat crawling up his cheeks that you can pin on embarrassment, but the genuine terror in his eyes makes you take a step back, dropping your facade for just a moment so he knows it’s okay.

“You know the color system and our nonverbal signals, jagi, if you don’t want to keep going,” you say firmly, looking right into his eyes, “I’m into this, okay? If it’s too sudden, we can step back and talk about it later. I can still help you get off, or I can leave the room and you can finish yourself off.”

You watch him juggle your words in his mind, watch his throat bob as he thinks about what he wants to do. He sits a little too long, though, and you can see the embarrassment start to dominate his features, so you cut in before he can try and take something away from himself that he wants.

“What’s your color, puppy?”

It’s a cruel trick, pulling out the name now. You know it is, know from the way that he keens high in his throat like he can’t help it that it’s mean, but you don’t care. You’re getting turned on now, too, heat curling in your gut as he gives you his biggest puppy eyes, you watch the way his hesitance fades away at the name. He’s still red, and still too far in his head for your liking, but you’ve got time to change it.

“I asked you a question, pretty,” you say, voice sharper than you mean it to be, “I expect an answer.”

He swallows big again, pressing his eyes closed like he doesn’t want to say it. He knows he doesn’t have to say it - knows he can use your signals instead if he really can’t get the words out - but he opens his mouth anyways.

“...g-green.”

It’s so quiet you barely hear it, but you can see it in the way that the blush spreads all the way down his chest, his tanned skin turning a patchy red under the intensity of your gaze. You sigh, reaching a hand out to cup his chin and make him look at you. He squirms at first, resisting, but your fingers press a little harder at his jaw, and he goes slack in your hold, allowing you to guide his face to look at yours.

“Good. If that ever changes, you let me know immediately. Understood?”

He nods as best he can in your bruising grip, and you shake your head.

“Words, puppy.”

“Yes, I understand.”

His voice is still quiet, tinged with nerves and what sounds almost like shame. You’re confident that the shame won’t be lasting much longer, not if you have anything to say about it. You nod once, satisfied, and then drop his face from your grip. He makes a confused sound, a little whine in the back of his throat, and immediately chokes it down, head tilting away from you again now that you’ve freed him from your hold. 

You step back and strip yourself of your clothes quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting too long. The idea of him begging for your touch is certainly appealing, but you’re hoping this isn’t a one time deal, so (hopefully) there'll be plenty of chances for you to make him beg in the future.

“I have some rules for you, puppy,” you say, watching him with lidded eyes as you slowly slide your pants down, “Are you listening?”

He nods, and then opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“From here on out, you will not speak unless I’m asking for your color, because dumb puppies like you don’t speak, do they?” you interject, watching fresh heat spread across his face as his eyes widen a fraction, “And you will not come until I’ve allowed you to. And don’t touch that pathetic cock unless I give you permission, okay? That’s not yours to play with, it’s mine.”

He chokes out a whine and nods shakily, fists clenching and unclenching in the sheets. He’s still got his legs straddling the pillow below him, and you watch with glee as he tries to press his thighs together but can’t, the pillow keeping him from getting even a sliver of the friction he craves. He makes another tiny sound, and looks up at you with teary eyes, waiting.

“So pretty, jagi.” You say, and you can’t resist him, because you’re leaning forward to press your mouth to his.

It’s the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever had with Seungmin, all teeth and tongue. He licks into your mouth eagerly when your lips part, and it’s like he’s never kissed anyone before, let alone you. His tongue pokes and prods at everything he can reach, swiping across your teeth and your lips like he doesn’t care where it ends up. You can feel the way that drool is escaping out of the corner of his lips, and you pull away to lick a stripe up his neck and chin, collecting his lost spit and kissing it back into his mouth. 

You’re used to his deep groans and little sighs, so how loud he is already is a shock. Every brush of your hand, every tilt of your head makes him squeak and moan below you. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s so worked up, and it has that familiar burn of arousal spreading through your veins faster than you’d like to admit.

You pull back to admire your handwork. Seungmin’s eyes are a little more unfocused now, his cheeks dusted a rosy pink, and there’s drool streaking a trail down his chin and neck. You’re unsure if it’s his, yours, or a mix of both, and you reach a hand forward to thumb at the corner of his mouth absentmindedly, cooing when his lips part instinctively. You slip your thumb into his mouth and watch him suck on it lazily, looking up at you through his lashes. Your other hand still holds the collar between it, and you bring it up into his line of sight.

“Can I collar you, puppy?” You ask, and watch him swallow nervously again, “We don’t have to, jagi. I just think you’d look so pretty with a collar around your neck. Next time, I want to get you a little tag with your name on it, so it’ll jingle every time you fuck your pathetic little cock into your pillow. But we can save the collar for next time, pup, and I won’t be mad.”

He makes a whiny sound, and, refusing to look you in the eye as he does, he lifts himself on shaky legs and spins himself around. He tilts his head backwards, eyes squeezed shut like he can’t fathom the idea of looking at you right now, and you groan, unable to hold back the sound.

“Fuck, puppy, you’re so good for me,” you coo, slipping the collar around the front of his neck carefully, “Stay just like that, there we go.”

You watch a shiver ripple up his spine as the cool metal of the ring presses against his throat, and you carefully adjust the size until it looks like it’ll fit just right. And with a quiet click!, you buckle the collar around his neck.

He goes lax under you immediately, body slumping back into your fully. You have to step forward and crowd more into his space to keep him from slipping off the bed, and soon, you’re the only thing keeping him upright. You watch his tongue loll out, and his eyes lazily blink open. He tilts his head a few times, pauses, does it again, and hums with satisfaction, eyes slipping closed again as a happy rumble comes out of his chest. You think it’s simultaneously the cutest and the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and you feel the evidence of your own arousal drip down your thigh.

“Look so pretty in your collar for me, Minnie.”

He makes a distressed sound, shaking his head, eyes flying open and looking up at you pleadingly.

“No? Minnie doesn’t think he looks pretty?” You respond, tilting your head at him, unsure of what he’s whining about.

He makes another sound, mouth opening and closing uselessly. You realize it’s because he’s following your orders, and you speak up quickly, before this momentary distress turns into a real drop.

“You can speak if you need to right now, jagi,” you say, and that makes things worse, and he chokes on a sob as he even more frantically shakes his head, “Pretty, I need to know what’s wrong so I can help you.”

He just closes his eyes and shakes his head again, burying his face in your stomach. The position can’t be comfortable, and you press him off of you to look at him.

“Do you think you look pretty like this?” You ask again, careful this time.

He sniffles and nods only, a shy nod, but a nod nonetheless. He gives you a little smile when you reach forward to cup his face.

“Good, because I know you look pretty. My pretty Minnie-”

He cuts you off with a loud sound again, shaking your hand off of his cheek and pouting up at you again. You ponder for a moment, and then a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Minnie?” He whimpers again, shaking his head, “Oh, I get it, I’m sorry it took me so long, pretty. You’re not Minnie right now, are you? You’re just my dumb puppy. Just a dumb mutt who doesn’t know how to think.”

He flushes at that, your words far more vulgar than he would’ve worded it, but he still nods eagerly, visibly relaxing now that you’ve figured out what he needed. Because he can’t be your Minnie right now. Minnie is dominant, a force to be reckoned with, a whirlwind in bed that can press you into the sheets and make you cry. But he’s not Minnie right now - he’s just puppy, and puppy can’t do any of those things that Mininie can do. Puppy’s only good for humping and mating and taking. 

“I’m going to sit myself up against the headboard, puppy, and I want you to keep your eyes on me,” you say, grabbing the discarded bottle of lube as you slip onto the bed, “And no touching.”

Your tone drops at the end, a warning, and he swallows, nodding hard, and his cute little ears flop up-down-up-down as he does, and it’s so cute you think you might explode. He shifts so that he’s kneeling between your legs, not touching, but closer than he needs to be. You let it slide, knowing that he’s eager right now, and pop the lube open, generously spreading it across some of your fingers.

You don’t tease your entrance like he would, don’t do any of that circling the rim bullshit he always does to make you whine, you just slip one of your fingers in with a soft sigh, melting back into the headboard as you finally get some of the relief you’ve been craving. You didn’t realize how turned on you were until you finally got the chance to get your hands on yourself, and the relief is dizzying. You slip in a second finger easily, body already anticipating what’s coming next, and you laugh lightly as Seungmin leans in, closer and closer, until you can feel his breath on your hand. He’s entranced by the way that your fingers are slipping in and out of yourself, panting with his mouth open wide, so close he’s practically looking at you cross-eyed. 

But he’s good for you, so he doesn’t touch. He just hovers impossibly close, drooling all over the sheets messily. He doesn’t dare to look away from your entrance, watching as you slip in a third finger and curl them all just right, fingers barely brushing against that spot inside of you. Your fingers aren’t as long as his, and you almost regret not letting him touch, but watching him drool over you is worth pushing your pleasure a little further down the line.

Once you’re sufficiently stretched, you slip your fingers out of yourself with a squelch! It’s a nasty sound, and it makes both of you shiver. Seungmin drools a little more, like he can’t help himself. You offer your sticky fingers to him, covered in lube and your own essence, and his tongue darts out to lap it up.

It can't possibly be a pleasant taste, but he mouths at your fingers like it’s the best thing he’s ever had, whining petulantly as you slip your fingers out of his mouth. He tries to follow them, but you click your tongue at him, and he sinks back on his haunches, looking just like a scolded puppy. You just sigh, like you’re disappointed, and you watch with delight as he curls up further into himself, the sound going straight to his heart. If his puppy ears were real, they’d be drooping, and his tail would be pressed between his legs. He looks so small right now, and it makes your head spin.

You don’t say a word to him, not yet, just lazily stretch your arms and languidly shift your position. He moves to accommodate you, and soon he’s up near the headboard and you’re in the middle of the bed. You put yourself on all fours, arch your back and wiggling your hips at him just to hear the pathetic noise you know he’ll make. He gulps so loud you can audibly hear it, and he whimpers when you let your upper half press into the sheets, staring intently at your winking entrance, still wet with lube.

“Puppy?” You ask, and you feel him jolt behind you, movement vibrating through the mattress.

He makes a quiet sound, like he’s responding, and you shake your head.

“No, that’s not the sound that puppies make,” you say, lifting your head to peer back at him, “My good puppy knows better, doesn’t he? What sound do puppies make, silly boy?”

You watch him fight a war with himself as you stare at him, waiting patiently. He’s already slipped so far, mind mostly a puddle and only thinking dumb puppy thoughts. But there’s still a rational part of his brain there fighting and you can see it, a part of him that still believes that this is wrong and bad and embarrassing. You know this will be the last push for him to finally break, and you let your hips sway gently again, humming quietly when his hips buck up into the air at the sight.

“Puppy could be inside of me already,” you say with a dramatic sigh, and a weak spurt of precum dribbles down his cock, “But for some reason, my puppy doesn’t remember what sound he’s supposed to make. All you have to do is bark for me, puppy. And then you can hump me, just like you humped that pathetic little pillow of yours.”

It’s beautiful to watch the last shred of his will fray, because he really is so pretty when he’s falling apart. He’s flushed a ruddy color, his breath is laboured, his cock is twitching and nearly purple with need between his legs, and the tears that were pricking his eyes finally escape, the humiliation sinking in and making him go dumb.

“Mhm…” he starts, and then catches you watching him, and freezes.

You raise an eyebrow, like you’re waiting impatiently, and he swallows again, closing his eyes to gather himself.

“Muh…” He shakes, his cock twitches, and it comes out in one breath, “Mong mong.”

It’s barely there, a quiet little bark from behind you, but it’s enough. You can see the way that he’s completely lost the last bit of pride that was clouding his head, and you give him the biggest smile you can muster.

“Good boy,” you murmur, and he perks up, nodding, “Now puppy?”

He lets out a weak little bark again, and your grin stretches impossibly bigger.

“Breed.”

He’s on you in an instant, moving so fast that you have to dig your fingers into the sheets to keep yourself from sliding forward. His hands plant on either side of your head, and he bucks his hips forward, cock sliding against the curve of your ass. It catches your hole a few times, but his movements are too sharp, too desperate, and it won’t go in. He wails at that, and you feel the warmth of his tears on your back and on your neck as he leans down to nuzzle into it. His puppy teeth find the skin of your shoulder and he bites as he tries to get his cock inside of you, but it’s no use.

He’s so embarrassed he could die. Everything feels like molten lava, and you’re no help, just presenting yourself to him and expecting him to just hump you like a breeding dog. He wonders how dogs do this with no hands, and finds that he can’t even do it with no hands, and it makes him feel so small and pathetic and that he's leaking even more all over your ass.

“God, can’t even do the simplest things yourself, can you?” You huff, reaching a mean hand back to grab at his cock.

Your touch isn’t gentle, but it’s the first feeling of warmth he’s had on his cock all night, and it makes him impossibly dizzy. He ruts into your hand, pleasure exploding behind his eyes at finally having something over than a pillow touching his stupid cock. You aren’t trying to be nice about it, and that makes it feel even better. The idea that he’s such a dumb, gross mutt that you won’t even touch him properly, that you’re just using him as a toy to fuck you full, has him weak in the knees.

You give him another harsh squeeze, and he stills his hips unhappily. He wants to keep humping, wants to spill all over the perfect warmth of your hand, but a blurry part of his mind remembers that there’s something even better waiting for him if he’s patient. He gasps wetly as you line the tip of his cock up with your entrance, and he can’t help but buck into the warm heat radiating from you. His cock slips halfway in with one sloppy thrust, and you withdraw your hand to give him room to fuck into you. 

He barely pulls out before his whole body craves your heat again, and he’s thrusting all the way into you. It punches a moan out of your chest, raw and carnal, and his teeth sink into the meat of your shoulder again, muffling the whine that tears out of his throat. You feel so good around him he barely remembers to breathe, hips speeding up into a sloppy, fast pace as his body chases more more more of the burning hot pleasure he’s feeling. 

He feels so good inside of you, even with his uncoordinated movements. The lack of true pace might even be hotter, because he’s so out of control because of you. He’s falling apart and crying and mouthing at your shoulder because of you. You clench around him, the coil inside of you already winding tight, and he fucks into you impossibly harder at the feeling. 

“G-guh-good puppy,” you heave out, the force with which he’s fucking you with knocking the air out of your lungs, “So fucking good. Gonna-hngh! Fuck, gonna fill me up good? G-gonna breed me full?”

He nods as he cries into your skin, your whole body shaking with the movement as he bucks his hips up into you harder. It feels incredible, and you know you’re going to come soon, so you reach a hand back blindly and grab.

“Fuck-hah, shit-fuck me like y-you mean it,” you hiss out, fingers looping through the metal at his neck and pulling, “Can’t even-mhmm-feel your pathetic cuh-cock when you just hump like a dumb dog.”

He shudders, and you feel the movement through your body, and you have to fight to choke down the sound that claws at your throat. You want him desperate, want him humping you like his life depends on it, fucking into you so hard and sloppy that his cock almost slips out with every thrust.

And you get your wish, because with renewed vigor, Seungmin’s bucking into you, teeth still marring your shoulder and fingers digging so deep into the sheets that you’d be worried they might tear if you were paying attention. But you can’t pay attention to anything other than the feeling of his cock inside of you, fat head bumping that spot inside of you over and over again until your orgasm is so close you can taste it.

“W-wanna come, pup?” you wheeze, and he nods against your shoulder, letting out a moan when you squeeze around him tighter.

“Bark for me ag-guh!-ain and you can fill me up, puppy.”

You barely get the sentence out before a weak chorus of mong mongs escape his lips, drool smearing across your skin as he babbles. The sound gets louder and louder, his hips moving faster and faster to chase that edge of pleasure he’s finally allowed to taste, and you come with a shout. As you come, you pull on the collar as hard as you can, and the feeling of the leather on his throat and your pulsing walls around him is enough to push Seungmin over the edge, too. Seungmin trembles above you as he spills his load into you as deep as he can, mong mongs fading into weak moans, until he can’t move his hips anymore, body too weak to do anything but shake above you.

“Good boy, knotting me full,” you say, though your face is now pressed into the sheets under the weight of him, and it comes out muffled, “My perfect puppy. So pretty for me, so perfect.”

You continue to whisper sweet nothings as he melts into your back, full body weight crushing you like a weighted blanket. The feeling is nice, and you almost don’t want to get up, but then your thighs start to feel sticky, a mess of your cum and Seungmin’s cum dripping out of your entrance streaking down your legs and making a mess. You leg also is starting to fall asleep, and you can’t exactly lug your boyfriend to the bathtub with a numb leg.

“Puppy, we need to get clean.” You say, and Seungmin makes a noncommittal sound into the skin of your neck.

“Puppy.”

He makes a sound that’s almost like a growl, and you respond with an exasperated noise of your own.

“Puppy. My leg is falling asleep, c’mon.”

“Ngh.” 

It’s the only response you get, and you kick at him weakly. He shifts enough to free your leg, but then immediately settles back down on top of you, content to just lay like this seemingly forever.

“I wanna take a bath with my puppy,” you whine, trying to appeal to him so that you can unstick your thighs, “Wash his hair, cuddle with him in the tub, kiss him all over…”

Seungmin rolls off of you and lets you free, whining slightly when his cock slips out of you, and you roll yourself unceremoniously off the bed and onto your feet, smiling down at his dishevelled state.

You hadn’t really gotten a chance to see him yet, not since he had fucked his cock into you, and he looks a mess. The puppy ears are askew on his head, tilted at an angle that can’t possibly be comfortable, and his hair is stuck up in a flurry of different directions. There’s a line of drool that’s dried down his chin and part of his neck, and there’s little red marks from where you dug the collar into his neck that peek out over the black leather. A haze stays settled over his eyes, and you can tell from the way he seems to almost be looking through you that he’s still floaty, the high of his orgasm still running through his veins. He looks beautiful, and it makes you want to ravage him all over again. 

And on another night, you would, but tonight, things still feel almost delicate. You don’t want to push the line further than you have already. So you just help him stand and wobble the two of you to the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the toilet lid as you start up the water.

Once the heat is satisfactory, you let the water run, turning back to your pretty boyfriend. He still seems dazed, watching you with the kind of blatant adoration that he rarely lets show on his face, even in tender moments like these. It makes you want to put him in a jar and keep him in your pocket forever, his expression so cute and open and so incredibly puppy-like that your heart squeezes in your chest.

You gently lift the puppy ears from his head, delicately placing them on the sink counter. You reach to unbuckle the collar, but he whines loudly, so you drift your fingers past it, letting him keep what he needs on until he comes down. The tail is an easier ordeal, Seungmin only whining at the loss of fullness as you carefully pull it out of him, but he doesn’t stop you. You grab a hand towel and wet it in the warm, running water, and then use it to carefully towel down Seungmin and yourself. No point in bathing if you’re just going to sit in your cum the whole time, so you have to make sure you’re at least a little clean getting into the water.

You help him into the water and stay out of it yourself at first, just carefully getting his hair wet so that you can wash it. Only once you’ve washed the shampoo out of his hair do you slip into the warm water behind him, settling your chin on his shoulder and rubbing little shapes into his hand until you can feel him coming back to himself. 

His telltale signs are in the way he stiffens against you, in the way that his skin starts to feel a little warmer under yours, and in the way his fingers twist to loop through yours; a ground measure he takes sometimes to keep himself in the moment. It’s sweet that, even in his nervousness, he still seeks you out.

“Welcome back, jagi,” you murmur quietly, voice warm and open, pressing a kiss into the sensitive skin below his ear, “How are you feeling?”

“...good,” he says after a moment, then pauses a breath longer, uncertainty settling into his voice, “You’re not…mad? Or weirded out?”

“I’m only a little sad that you didn’t just tell me you wanted to try something new,” you say honestly, “You know I’m willing to try just about anything for you. Plus, you were really hot.”

He groans, squeezing your hand tighter in his grip. “Shut up.”

“Mhm, you don’t actually want me to do that,” you coo, reaching your free hand up to trace at the collar still decorating Seungmin’s neck, “Puppy loves me.”

“Stop!” he hisses, though it’s weak, and the two of you fall into easy laughter and he flushes a deeper red.

Later, when you’re curled up in your bed, Seungmin curled up on your chest and half-asleep already, a sudden curiosity strikes you.

“How did you come to the conclusion that you wanted to be a puppy?” You ask, and he pinches at your side.

“Jisungie-hyung and Minho-hyung are freaks.” He says, and you nod.

“Makes perfect sense.”

“...and I showed Channie-hyung a porn video while I was drunk off my ass.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” He said, like it was the most normal thing ever, and then curled further into your chest, “‘m tired. G’night.”

You don’t get to think about the implications of what he said before he’s snoring lightly against you, already asleep like he didn’t just say an absolutely insane thing to you like it’s completely normal. You make a mental note to hound him about it in the morning, but sleep is calling your name too, and you let yourself drift away, the weight of your perfect puppy boyfriend against you pulling you under. You’ll have plenty of time to harass your boyfriend later. Now, it’s time to fall asleep, and dream of puppies and love.

Bonus (From Seungmin's POV):

Links to Intro | Chan

Chris who opens his car door for you just as he always does. He guards the top of your head to make sure that you don't hit it and closes the door behind you. Just like he always does.

Chris who relaxes into the dark leather of his seat when your father closes the door. He sighs, smiling at you just as brightly as he did earlier. “Baby” He coos, rubbing his hand over your thigh. “Missed you.”

Chris who drives you all the way to his shared apartment for some alone time since his roommate is out tonight. He drops his keys onto his dresser and kicks his room door shut behind the two of you with ease. 

You sit on his bed, watching as he slips off his loose button up shirt, his hat and glasses. That's not the same man that was standing in your living room. “Well don't you look different?” You tease and he smiles, it's bright but his eyes are dark. “Do I?”

Chris who lays back on his bed and pulls you into his lap. “So what was it that your mom was saying?” He asks while playing with the lace at the hem of your mini skirt. “Something about me and your ex, right?” 

He smiles, enjoying the reaction he gets out of you. “You weren't supposed to hear that.” He leans up and kisses away your cute pout while lightly squeezing the plush of your thighs. 

Chris who only lets you deny answering him one more time before he stops asking and starts demanding an answer. “Baby, just tell me exactly what she said.” You huff a sigh, arguing that he knows exactly what she said. 

Chris tsks, tilting your chin up so that you can catch his dark gaze perfectly. “Ah ah ah, I wanna hear it come out of your mouth baby. Tell me what your mother said.” His hand slides up under your skirt, disappearing under the lace.

Chris who coos so sweetly when you finally comply “That's it, babygirl. So she thinks that I'm better than your ex. Better mannered, better looking, Is that right?” You pant in his lap, barely able to answer as his fingers work smoothly inside of you. He had his methods of getting you to talk.

“Words, sweetie, talk to me.” You moan out a broken 'yes', nodding with your eyes closed tight. “Do you agree, baby?” He scissors his fingers inside of you then presses up into that spot, that one fucking spot. “Do you think that I'm better?”

Chris who has you moaning 'yes' over and over again as he curls his fingers into your sweet spot. He's gripping your hip, guiding you to ride his fingers while he kisses deep red marks into your chest. “Yeah? My girl thinks I'm better? What am I better at, huh?” He whispers, nibbling on the shell of your ear. “Kissing you? Touching you? Fucking you? Tell me, baby.”

Chris who flips the two of you over and presses the side of your face into the mattress with a fist full of your hair. He scratches at your scalp with one hand while the other flips your skirt up. He groans at the view of your ass, landing a hard slap on each cheek. “You need me to show you that I'm better, baby? Need me to remind you who's been making you scream on their cock? You want it? Tell me you want it.”

Chris who pulls your panties down your legs and sniffs them before throwing them onto his nightstand. You aren't getting those back, you know that. He lands a harsh slap everytime you whine for him to fill you. He spreads your cheeks, spits down onto your tight asshole and spreads the slick down to your pussy with his thumb, cursing at the sight. 

Chris who teases your pussy with the head of his cock. He runs the leaky tip over your clit and up through your folds just to push against your entrance and repeat the process. You groan and moan his name, begging him with such a sweet tone that he nearly gives in. “Be patient, baby.”

Chris who sinks into you just a bit just to pull right back out with a distressed groan. He watches the way your cunt stretches around him, taking each inch smoother than the last. He teases you over and over again until he gives you everything in one smooth go. “Look at that pussy take my cock, fuck, baby.” 

He moans a sweet strangled sound, Something that you could listen to over and over if your own moans weren't so loud in your ears. He spreads your ass again, pressing his thumb over your tight hole and rimming it with the pad of his finger and pressing in just a bit. “So fucking tight.”

Chris who grabs your hips, fingers digging into the plush flesh while he thrusts into you. He watches the bounce of your ass when your skin meets his, he groans at the jiggle of your thighs and the arch of your back. He throws his head back, moaning profanities through gritted teeth. 

“Chris, Chris, baby, harder please please, more.” You're babbling, drooling into the bedding and your boyfriend smiles, it's fucked out and cocky. His tongue dips out of his mouth to lick at the corner of his lips and drives his cock into you at a harsh pace, one, two, three times before stopping and holding you against him. “You gotta earn that shit, baby. You want me to pound you? Want me to fucking ruin your cunt?” All you can do is moan and nod, exhaling shakily. He grabs a fist full of your hair, pulling your head back. “Fuck on me, baby. Ride my cock, lemme see you fuck yourself.”

Chris who holds your hair up into a ponytail while you fuck back onto him, you move your hips in smooth circles as you rise and drop your ass against him. He watches the way you move, the way your ass just keeps fucking bouncing. Your cunt clenches around him, your moans echo through his room and he convinces himself that you've earned a proper fucking.

Chris who lets your hair go, timing the drop of your head to the mattress with the snap of his hips so perfectly that it has you screaming into his comforter. He pulls you forward a bit, changing the angle just enough for his cock to bully your sweet spot. You're unraveling beneath him, moaning, drooling, fucked out and fucking pretty.

Chris is no better above you, he's moaning, grunting, biting his lip and squeezing his eyes shut in a nearly futile attempt to keep his composure. He takes each heavy moan of his name as a queue to give you more and more.

Chris who pulls you up so that your back is to his chest while he's still buried inside you. He smiles that cocky smile when you groan at the position change. His arm hooks around your stomach and his other hand finds purchase around your throat. “Feel that? Feel how deep I am, baby?”

He moves slowly, letting you really feel the way his cock drags along your walls before he resumes his previous pace. He feels like he's in your fucking stomach. It feels like his cock is splitting you open and your clit throbs at the pressure. “Louder, c'mon.” He grunts, squeezing the sides of your throat just enough to give you a head rush. “Don't hold back, baby, louder.”

Chris who can tell by the way your pussy flutters and squeezes him that you're getting close. “Shit, babygirl is gonna cum, yeah? Tell me how much better I am whIle you fall apart on my cock.” You whimper, babbling about how good he's fucks you but nothing you say makes sense. “Can't even fucking talk.” His hand goes from your throat to your chin to turn your head to the side. “Look at me”

Chris keeps his rhythm only faltering for a second when you clench around him. “Whose cock makes you cry like this?” He kisses away a tear as it falls then follows with a soft kiss on your lips. You swallow the spit thick in your mouth and whimper a pathetic ‘yours’. 

“Whose the best fuck you ever had?” He pounds an equally as pathetic ‘you’ from your spit slick lips and he smiles. “Whose cock are you gonna cum on? Hm?” 

Chris who doesn't even let you mumble another pathetic whine before he's bending you in half so that you're face down, ass up for him all over again. His hand stays on the side of your face, keeping you in place while his other hand grabs your hip. You're locked in. His thrusts are brutal, relentless. His black tee is between his teeth as he pounds you. Your screams echo and seep into the neighboring apartment but he doesn't fucking care. 

“C'mon, let me feel you, baby.” He reaches under you, strumming your clit like one of his guitars and you fucking sing like one. You cry out so beautifully that he can't help but harmonize with you. “Chris, Chris, Chris, b-baby m’ cumming.” You scream and he drinks it all up. 

Chris who can barely hold himself together while you tremble beneath him, gushing and creaming on his cock. “Holy shit, you're gonna make me fucking cum. This fucking cunts gonna make me cum.” He's messy, licking drool from the corner of his mouth and taking his turn at becoming a babbling mess. He grunts and thrusts and gets closer and closer to falling apart. 

“Don't you dare waste a fucking drop that I give you, you hear me? Take it all, take all my fucking - shit shit shit, I'm cumming.” He spills into you, eyes rolling back, bottom lip between his teeth and a groan so guttural it makes you moan. “You fucking emptied me, baby, fuck.” 

Chris who pulls out slowly and spreads your cheeks again to see your mixed arousal drip out of your messy cunt. He stuffs it back in with his fingers cooing a teasing warning. “I said don't fucking waste it.” He punctuates his sentence with an ass slap and you jolt at the sting. “I'll just have to keep filling this hole, huh? Gotta fuck you full until you follow the rules.”

He falls into a rhythm of fingering his cum back into you and ‘accidentally’ pulls another orgasm from you. He chuckles, low and seductive as he slips his fingers between his lips to taste the sweet mix. “That's my girl”

Chris who cleans you up. Changes his bedding then cuddles you against his chest. You're still hazy, breathing softly into him while he grabs his phone and unlocks it. “Babygirl” he calls as he holds his phone up and clicks a picture just as you look up. He checks the photo, smiling at how fucked out you look even after he's cleaned you up. 

“I'll send it to you.” He kisses your forehead, locking his phone. "You can show it to your dad when he asks why you didn't come home tonight.”

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