Bang Me Bangtan

You think there’s no hope, unless a real miracle happens.

It’s been at least more than an hour since you left the gym, got home, took a shower, and, just when you think you’re relaxed, you wonder if your friend has replied to your message. You look for your phone and realize it’s not there. You’ve completely forgotten it somewhere at the gym.

You panic slightly for a second. Your brother just gave you a brand-new model, and you were lazy enough to even set up a password or facial recognition. You’ve barely installed and transferred your information to the phone, that’s how absent-minded you’ve been lately.

You sigh. You think it’s your fault, but the knock on your door distracts you. Maybe real miracles do exist.

It’s Minho. You think it can’t get any worse. You’ve lost your cell phone, and now your older brother’s hot new friend shows up at your house unannounced. Just when you’re wearing your comfy clothes and your hair is still wet from the shower you just took. In short, you think you look your worst, while he stands there, carefree, the darkness of the night accompanying him in the background, dressed in his all-black sportswear, black cap, windbreaker jacket zipped up all the way to his neck, black shorts, and sneakers. Even in the simplest clothes, all you can see are his big, pretty eyes; he is still extremely handsome. And you always see him like this, dressed in sportswear, and when you’re lucky enough, and it’s a hot day, you see him in sleeveless shirts showing off his exquisite arms.

Minho doesn’t react when he sees you. He stands frozen, both hands in his jacket pockets. You, on the other hand, are embarrassed, confused as to why he would be there if your brother—and roommate— isn’t home right now. Because, of course, Minho appeared out of nowhere in your life, being your brother’s faithful running partner and, sometimes, gym buddy. You see him often, every time he and your brother feel like going for a run. Minho always shows up in your kitchen, nonchalant, covered in sweat and drinking water.

“Oh, Minho. Hi!” You still don’t know exactly what to say. Minho simply raises his eyebrows and bows slightly, without moving his lips an inch, but you read his gesture perfectly, wanting to ask if he can come in. You step away from the door and let him in without thinking. “Come in,” you whisper timidly.

Minho steps slightly into the hallway, stopping a couple of feet away as his gaze settles on you. You close the door, and the next thing you think is to ask him if he wants anything, if by chance he’s looking for your brother, who isn’t home… But you’re still struck by how strange and unexpected his visit seems. You saw him enter the gym just as you left, so you know he’s coming from there.

But before you can speak, you see how he takes your cell phone out of his jacket pocket, holds it loosely up to his face, and swings it gently. You recognize your phone case, and your lockscreen just activates for a brief second.

“Did you lose something?” he asks in a playful but somewhat monotonous tone.

You open your eyes in surprise and feel the tension in your body slowly fade away.

“You found it? Oh, thank you! I was just looking for it!” you say with genuine excitement, relieved to have one less thing to worry about.

And just as you reach out to take your cell phone, Minho quickly pulls it away from you, almost as if by reflex, and puts it back in his pocket.

“I didn’t think you were that absent-minded,” he says casually. “It only takes 5 minutes to set up your phone.”

Minho looks at you indifferently, perhaps as he always has since he met you, and simply turns around and walks further into your house. You look at him confused, certainly embarrassed that he played that game of putting something in front of you so he could snatch it away just as you were about to take it. Like two little kids.

You follow him, pretending that you know what his next move is and that you understand why he doesn’t just give you your cell phone back.

You nod apologetically, even though he can’t see you and continues walking calmly.

“Yes… I left it at the gym, didn’t I? I’m relieved you found it.”

But for Minho, it’s far from a relief. He already knew you liked him; he knew it since the moment you started avoiding him, getting subtly nervous every time he showed up at your house and when he tried to talk to you. And, Minho has to admit, he always loved that. He loves seeing how nervous you get, and above all, he loves the attention and teasing you around a little.

So, at first it was nothing, you were just the younger sister of the guy he trained and went running with… but as soon as he found himself thinking about you more and more and how he liked your attention… he noticed your little details and started to notice you, to pay attention to you in a different way.

But obviously, Minho would never let his interest show, or be mutual. At least not now. You’ve only known each other for a relatively short time, and you were still his friend’s younger sister, and he had to respect you. And he does, of course. But that respect is about to break. And he thinks it’s your fault.

Minho sighs quietly. He stops abruptly and turns to look at you. As soon as he sees you, he repeats to himself that if he’s going to do it, he should do it now. Bluntly. His body is already tense.

He just wants to provoke you and get more than just a reaction out of you.

You stop and look at him too. Minho subtly raises an eyebrow and simply blurts out, harshly and precisely, sure of what he is about to say:

“I had no idea you were so vulgar either.”

You look at him, clearly confused, your brow furrowed, a little offended, wondering if you heard him correctly. Vulgar?

“Excuse me?” you say in an uncertain whisper, still not understanding the situation.

He closes his mouth and hums in approval, nodding gently, waiting for you to explain. Reaffirming and confident in what he said. Completely unfazed by your reaction and seeing absolutely nothing wrong with what he said.

And of course, for Minho, it’s your fault. It’s your fault in the first place for not putting any kind of security on your phone, leaving it there forgotten in the gym so he could take it and seduce him to your home—of course, that way it’s easier to excuse himself for the incredible desire he also has for you—and, it’s your fault that your phone hasn’t stopped vibrating with messages from your best friend and that Minho got curious. At first, he doesn’t think much of it, but then he reads his name in one of the messages, so he opens the chat out of sheer curiosity. He didn’t plan on saying anything to you about it, and he would just give you your phone back, until he read everything you had said... that involved him.

Since you met him, you haven’t stopped practically drooling over him, and you express it very well in text messages to your friend Yoonah. At first, Minho feels flattered and gives a half-smile as he skims over the messages:

and you ran into minho at the gym? did u talk to him? I want to see him in person is he really that handsome? I think it’s time for me to start accompanying u to the gym

But as his finger slides over the screen out of sheer curiosity, between short breaks he takes after finishing sets of his routine, he is completely perplexed. That’s where he finds the explicit messages and how very blunt you express yourself about him, saying absolutely all kinds of things you want to do to him, how much you fantasize about him, what you would like him to do to you, how you think he would do it to you... It was too much for Minho to process. First he reads how innocently nervous you feel that he has arrived at the gym... and one more quick search for his name and he finds you reciting erotic stories about him, talking in detail about his cock that you fantasize about seeing and pleasuring yourself with, about his arms manhandling you, about his voice and how sweetly raspy it would sound as he cums.

Your friend laughs at you, plays along, and calls you crazy. And Minho thinks you are. His eyes widen as he reads those messages, and his face flushes more, hotter than the light sweat already dripping from his red face because of his workout.

He stops reading the messages. He’s surprised, shocked... how can a sweet woman express herself so sexually about him? Minho continues his exercise routine and cardio, but he feels like he’s not doing it effectively. He can’t stop thinking about you and those messages.

Is that what you really want from him? For him to make you come so hard that you shake? To make you squirt? To make you cum and drown in his cock? Minho wonders with concern.

He leaves the gym earlier than usual and shortens his workout a little. He doesn’t know what he’s doing at first, but he simply heads to your house, walking in the direction he knows so well.

He can’t stop thinking about how you write without shame:

he’s so hot I just wanna kneel and suck him till my jaw locks tbh I don’t think it would fit his cock it must be gigantic asf you need to see it for yourself, yoonah minho in those grey sweatpants🙏🙏 and hes soft??!! omg?? come over asap. have a sleepover with me so you can meet him in the morning

Minho knows that your brother isn’t home and that he has to return your cell phone; otherwise, you would be looking for it. But the closer he gets to your house, the more his thoughts are poisoned by the vulgar texts you’ve sent to your friend in the last few weeks since you met him.

He thinks it will be weird. That now he would see you differently, since he now knows you are a woman with needs—many, wild, desperate, rude, dirty... and all of them affecting Minho.

And as he continues walking, still haunted by those thoughts... his ego expands again. Do you really think all that about him? Are you that desperate to have sex with him? Would you really behave the way he read?

A not-so-innocent smile unconsciously spreads across his face. Minho has always known he is handsome... but he never believed he had such strong sex appeal for women... but you... he never believed those were the deep thoughts and feelings of girls. He thinks you’re a freak. In the best way possible. One, perhaps, he should admit, that is also quite beautiful and sexy.

The feeling of guilt fades away in him, as he felt guilty in a way for reading your messages and invading your privacy, at the same time that he discovered your intentions with him, and then that feeling is replaced by a warm desire to fulfill your fantasies. Why not?

And, as a final act of invasion of privacy, Minho checks your gallery, finding something that starts to turn him on and makes him make a rash decision. At first, you weren’t hiding anything. Screenshots, selfies of your pretty face, photos of food, places, with your friends... and among those, two months ago, photos of you in lingerie, posing sexy, very provocative. Minho admired the pics, and already turned on, he sent the photos to his phone. Just in case, for later.

But he can’t help but wonder, who the hell could you have sent them to? Right before you met Minho.

So, he thought that you weren’t dating anyone. Confirmed by you and your brother. You are a woman Minho is interested in, and now he knows very well the way you are interested in him... plus Minho loves to provoke you and hasn’t had sex in a while.

And that’s how he got there. With your cell phone in his pocket and a twisted, dirty, exciting game up his sleeve.

“Yeah,” he says, slowly approaching you. “Next time, put a password on your phone, kid. You don’t know what kind of guy might have found it... and could read all your texts about how much you want to suck my dick. What do you think they would think of you? You dirty slut.”

Minho lets it slip and expresses a certain cynicism, almost satisfaction, in saying it out loud. Still, he keeps a serious expression. You open your eyes in fear and feel your blood pressure drop. You’re embarrassed. Unable to think that he read all that... invading your private life.

You are even unable to form words. Your mouth opens, wanting to form them, but nothing comes out. Your brain short-circuits, you want to defend yourself, seriously, but you know exactly what he means. Did he read your conversations? Why the sudden... rude words to you? You hated that you liked it, and it made your body vibrate slightly... dirty slut.

Still, you blink in disbelief.

“Excuse me?” you gasp and frown, acting offended.

Minho raises his eyebrows and appreciates your reaction. It’s exactly how he imagined it, even better. You see his face—amused, with something between a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes. That’s when you get serious. Somehow, that’s the only method of defense your body can think of.

“Are you going to give me my phone?” you say, trying to sound tough. But inside you’re dying of embarrassment, your body already tense with stress and shame.

You don’t think about feigning insanity, asking him breathlessly, “What?” in confusion, because you’re aware of what you’ve said. And you know you won’t get a clear answer from Minho. And that it’s something that would hardly come out of Minho’s mouth, the Minho you know. Besides, you know that would only fuel the already uncomfortable topic.

Even so, he doesn’t stop. He won’t. Since his gym routine, you’ve made him tense, as if to simply leave your house without getting anything, without giving you what you wanted so much. Besides, he was obviously already inevitable and extremely horny, his cock throbbing, trapped in his underwear.

“Oh, sure,” he moves closer; every step is more dangerous. “And please, set a password right now,” he says, sounding like both a warning and a challenge.

Minho takes your cell phone out of his pocket again, but pulls it away from you when you try to grab it abruptly and pathetically, to no avail. He holds it away from you so quickly, placing it almost behind his body, and your previous sudden movement brings you even closer to him, practically right up against him. Minho, on the other hand, lowered his gaze at that moment to take a closer look at you as well, and the distance between his mouth and chin, and your lips, almost makes him sigh, frustrated and anticipating… and achieves the unthinkable in him once again; his lower stomach burns with desire, and his already hard manhood teases him, reminding him that he is erect, aroused, and ready for action.

“But first, I want you to apologize for sexualizing people. I never thought you were such a vulgar pervert.”

He continues, his tone serious and sharp despite teasing you. He really wants to laugh inwardly, but he knows it’s getting serious, the tension is growing, and he’s incredibly horny to ignore. But, you’re unable to tell the difference or even notice it; you’re so embarrassed and in a slight state of panic. You feel dejected and humiliated.

You return to your normal posture, slightly startled when, for a brief moment, you looked up and saw the details of his chiseled, masculine face just inches from you. His cologne mingling with the scent of the mild detergent on his clothes, with a light mist of salty sweat from his earlier workout… you were so close that you backed away in panic.

You don’t know exactly how to handle this kind of situation. So you timidly and uncertainly say the first thing that comes to mind, defending yourself, clinging to what little dignity you think you have left.

“Why did you read my texts? Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

You swallow nervously as you hear Minho’s vibrant, mocking chuckle. He relaxes his expression as he moves closer to you, his hands clasped behind his back. He walks confidently, feeling just a step away from taking you and giving you what you want so badly… from finally being able to release his frustration and indulge in more than just a little pleasure with you. At the same time, he thinks about how ironic the situation is... you want to accuse him of invading your privacy when you were the one who started this, he thinks, expressing yourself openly and obscenely about him.

But the truth is, he can and is willing to make it even more obscene. He’s horny and in a good mood; he can fulfill your most intimate and dirty fantasies while he’s at it.

“And expressing explicitly about how you want to gag on my cock, the details of how you imagine it—isn’t that sexualization, baby?”

You manage to blush even more than you already are. You feel your blood pressure drop. For a moment, you hear a faint ringing in your ears. Is this real? Did you really just hear that?

You stand still, clenching your fists. You let him come closer to you, since there’s clearly something in his tone that you like and that drives you wild. He’s being gently rude to you, sarcastic, but above all, you’ve noticed he’s getting a little playful. Should you let the situation escalate and see where it takes you… or stop it right now?

Minho continues, his voice raspy, playful, his characteristic tone… you’re unable to process this moment. What did he really want? You feel confused… and if he just wants to tease you a little, you’d feel even more humiliated. As it is, the situation is already suffocating enough.

He leans toward your ear. His cheek brushes against your softly damp hair, fragrant with the clean scent of your shampoo and conditioner. You’ve never had him this close before.

“So? Aren’t you going to apologize? Maybe this is just the way perverts like you need to be corrected.”

The term itself is quite amusing to Minho, but nothing compares to your expression as he gently pulls away from you just to look at you—completely serious, eyes shining, your cheeks softly flushed, your body tense and feeling hot.

Neither of you should have been so turned on by the other’s actions—him seductively warning you so close to you, and, for him, your nervous expression. It has tickled a very specific and intimate part of you both.

“Y-you didn’t have to read my texts in the first place,” you try to defend yourself.

And reading your texts wasn’t the only thing he did. He also took the liberty of searching for the perfect photos of you—the ones he’d be jerking off to at night. The irony is that the pervert was clearly someone else. The images of you posing sensually in lingerie just won’t leave him alone.

He smiles, scoffing slightly just for the sheer, genuine pleasure of seeing you like this. He smiles at your futile attempt to defend yourself, at how frustrating the situation is for him—extremely aroused, deciding to continue his game until you can grasp the clear signal of just how much he desires you right now.

You, on the other hand, watch his every move closely—him putting your phone back in his pocket, him shifting in place, his big eyes focused on you, his attractive smile appearing on his face… you like Minho so much, but you’re so focused on the upper part of his body that you don’t have the slightest idea of the massive erection that’s becoming more visible at that moment. The very thing you fantasize about so much.

“Literally anyone could have seen it. Your phone has no security at all. You want to blame me now? After I came all the way here to give it to you. You should be grateful… anyone could have read what—”

You sigh and gather the courage to interrupt him. You think that’s how you’ll finally get out of this situation. But it’s hard for you; you have to swallow your pride, accept the humiliation… live your life knowing that you might keep seeing him at home, with your brother, and that Minho himself knows how much you fantasize about him. There really wasn’t a worse humiliation than that for you right now.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for saying that about you, Minho,” you blurted out suddenly, impulsively.

He raises his eyebrows, surprised. You just want to get out of this situation… but you refuse to degrade yourself any further than you already have. Yes, your crush now knows just how bluntly you’ve spoken about him.

The resignation in your gaze simply dampens Minho’s spirits a little, making him think you’ve given up on the idea of having sex with him, but Minho doesn’t want to let the opportunity slip away, not now. Not when he needs you the most, just when he’s already at the peak of his arousal.

“Do you admit it was your mistake? That it was wrong to say all those things...?” he keeps talking, his voice deep and sensual, but you’re too embarrassed to even notice, so you just look down and nod in agreement—until he catches you off guard. “That you’ve been acting like a total dirty slut by writing those things? You really think that about me, huh? That my dick is big and that you’d actually have a really good time with me? Want to find out?”

You’re stunned. First, when you hear him call you that again, but each question surprises you more and more. You slowly look up and realize he’s moved closer to you again. Your eyes slowly trace his calves, exposed by his shorts, his thighs, and finally you notice a very large and significant detail: his erection. For some reason, you swallow hard—a reflex, perhaps, or out of nerves or surprise. You wonder if he’s been aroused this whole time, while talking to you… and what exactly caused it, because of what he read? Humiliating you? This was genuinely because of you.

You can’t believe how far you’ve come, but you can’t stop studying his masculinity in awe, visible through the fabric, subtly covered by the edges of his jacket. Finally, you look up at his face and see in his expression a kind of smirk you’ve never seen on him before, a mix of gleam and darkness in his eyes. You’re speechless. But it’s obvious what he wants; you just can’t accept that it was that easy, that random.

This is the moment for both of you. He knows how speechless you’ve been, but he finds it amusing… yet frustrating at the same time; he can’t wait any longer. His member has been as hard as a rock for long enough, so he simply orders you, imperatively and sharply:

“Get on your knees, now. And find out for yourself.”

You bow your head slightly out of sheer confusion, and your body temperature rises again; the shame and heat are evident in you, but you don’t see a shred of remorse or any change in him.

“Come on, do it now. Before I change my mind and decide otherwise.”

He warns you, but you feel unable to move; still, you end up obeying him, not wanting to overthink the situation.

Minho places his right hand on top of your head as soon as you kneel before him. You know exactly what he expects, so you look at his erection in front of you and then look up at him. Your heart races, adrenaline and anxiety surge through your system, making the situation feel genuinely real as you feel the weight of his hand on your head.

He grows gently impatient, since everything about him can already predict and sense in advance what he wants so badly from you at that moment.

His hand moves from your hair to your chin, lifting it with gentle force. Your hands are clasped together, nervous, not touching a single inch of him—yet.

So he guides you, trying to hide his heavy breathing with a subtly ragged sigh. His attractive nostrils flare, showing clear signs of struggle, and that’s all it takes to turn you on immediately. He stares at you intently from that alluring angle above you. And, so far, that’s the best you’ve ever experienced. The image of Minho that, until recently, existed only in your fantasies.

“I want you to do exactly what you kept writing in those messages to that other little slut of a friend of yours. Do it, now. How you were going to suck my dick and blow my mind with your incredible skills. Isn’t that right? You’re so sure of yourself, huh, you bratty slut?”

His voice is slow, sensual, and demanding. Your body goes limp; every sense within you begins to stir, to arouse, and the gentle, but rough tug on your hair after he finishes giving that command draws a soft gasp from you—a reaction that triggers his very vivid sex. It all seemed so unreal.

Your hands are trembling. Your gaze returns to the main attraction of the sexual act unfolding before you. Desire, excitement, and nerves get the better of you, causing those shaky hands to reach for the waistband of his shorts, and Minho notices. He smiles, amused, and doesn’t hesitate to tease you about it.

“Unbelievable. Are you suddenly going to act this shy? You didn’t used to be so bold and slutty about how much you needed my cock in your mouth, huh?”

You swallow nervously. Your femininity doesn’t take long to react. Impatience gets the upper hand; his abrupt and slightly humiliating comment makes you flush and triggers the impulsiveness to yank his shorts and underwear off in one swift motion. And that’s when his cock finally springs out, hard, erect, not yet stimulated, so it throbs in anticipation.

You sigh and gasp at the same time. You blink rapidly, trying to process the image of his rigid shaft in front of you. And that’s how you’ll simply start sucking Minho off right in the middle of your living room, on just any ordinary night.

Minho groaned. He’d been waiting for this moment for quite a while, and if you do it with dedication, maybe he could cum sooner than expected.

Even so, you try to act brave, but the slight tremor in your hands tells a different story; you’re so turned on and nervous that you don’t know how to act properly in the face of this big moment you’ve always wanted. Still, you take his cock as he holds back a moan. His stiff member settles into your hands, quivering with pleasure at the warmth of your skin. Minho is... big; his cock is long and thick, his veins bulging, even without being touched at all, his reddish-mauve tip glistening in precum drops, looking so appetizing to your eager eyes—which also gleam with excitement... Now you’re not entirely sure if he will fit.

Minho does notice your gleaming eyes, and as if reading your mind, he says in a smug tone:

“Do you like it, honey? Is it everything you imagined, sweetheart? Tell me what it’s like, tell me how you’re going to use it...”

His comment makes your nipples harden and sends waves of excitement that ripple through your untouched clit. That’s how magically and simply he works on you.

And you have to admit it’s better than you ever fantasized. The very image of it, of him, is so sensual, dirty, and provocative.

Minho pulls your hair tightly into a ponytail, pushing your face toward his cock, making it press against your lips. You know exactly what to do, and with a hot, gasping sigh, you shyly open your mouth, savoring his glans, tracing every part of his shape.

“Oh, fuck... you’re already using your tongue... keep it up, baby. Shit.”

He closes his eyes tightly, stifling his moans, throwing his head back, and slowly losing his mind. He never thought he’d end up like this—getting his cock sucked after a regular night out from the gym—but there he was, gripping your hair tightly, pushing you impatiently so you’d take his cock all the way into your mouth already.

However, you take your time... and thoughts of whether or not it will fit in your mouth dominate your mind; meanwhile, you kiss his erection and, feeling increasingly confident thanks to Minho’s passionate and positive reaction of obvious pleasure, you begin to do your thing, lubricating his cock with your tongue, looking him in the eyes, but the edge of his jacket gently brushes against your face every time you get close to lick his base. These are details... that make you hotter and more eager and awaken a curiosity within you... the curiosity that he’d take off that pesky jacket so you could have a little more of his skin.

You continue, tracing every inch of his throbbing, thick manhood, not missing a single detail or part, stimulating him from his sensitive balls to his flushed tip. And Minho watches you do it while frowning; he’s genuinely surprised by the pornographic sight of your lips around his most intimate parts, surprised by your sudden boldness. He’s speechless for now and savors the moment.

And the moment of truth arrives, because your aroused self can’t wait any longer.

His massive cock stands thick and heavy before your lips, veins pulsing along its impressive length, the swollen head already glistening, flushed and stimulated, ready for action.

You look up at him with hungry eyes, and he simply approves siently with heavy breathing. Then you lean in, your soft tongue tracing a slow, teasing circle around the tip before you part your lips and take him into your warm, wet mouth. The sheer size stretches your jaw deliciously as you suck him deeper, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue along the underside, savoring his salty, masculine taste.

A low groan escapes from his lips as his abs twitch in pleasure and tugs your scalp, while you start bobbing your head, taking more with each eager stroke, your hand wrapping around what you can’t fit, while saliva drips down your chin already. You moan around his throbbing length, the vibrations making him twitch against your tongue, lost in the filthy pleasure and the now engraved image of you, sweetly struggling to stuff your mouth with his cock.

“You suck so well, my pretty little whore. Mmm, keep it up,” he moans, biting his lip, not wanting to miss a single detail of your lips wrapped around his cock.

You’ve genuinely never felt this much pleasure from sucking a cock, even if you’re struggling, already tearing up.

Minho writhes gently with ecstasy, rocking his hips and thrusting softly into you. The room is filled with heated, lustful gasps and the vulgar sound of your mouth giving him a blowjob.

He’s so overwhelmed by the intense sensations that, amidst his clouded judgment, a rather mischievous idea occurs to him—simply for the sheer pleasure of controlling and possessing you even more, since he’s realized he’s losing control in the face of such overwhelming joy.

One of his hands releases its grip on your hair, and in a swift motion, you watch as he pulls your phone out of his pocket. Without another word, the camera pans across your face, capturing every motion of your mouth in his shaft, every sound and messy detail of the sexual act. You don’t stop, but your ears turn genuinely red as you feel gently humiliated—yet aroused—by being recorded in a moment as dirty and intimate as the one you’re experiencing.

“I want you to keep this video. I want you to remember just how much of a slut you can be. Look at yourself—you can’t stop sucking my dick, huh?”

A smile spreads across his face, and you realize he might be right—you can’t stop doing it; your mouth has grown accustomed to its warm girth. But when you get a little tired, you pull him out of your mouth and stroke him, though that’s not what he wanted to capture on video right now.

“Ah, ah. I didn’t say to stop. Use your mouth again… now I want to see how well you use your throat. Open wide. Get it ready for me.”

He orders, pushing your head back down, forcing you to do it now. You blink in confusion, but you let him guide you… because deep down, the idea sounds so damn hot.

Minho’s heart races; the thought ignites every inch of him, sparking that rush of adrenaline.

His throbbing cock slides back inside your mouth, but this time it feels completely different.

You gasp as his strong hand suddenly grips the back of your head, fingers tangling roughly in your hair, and without warning, he thrusts his hips forward, forcing his thick cock deeper into your mouth.

The massive head pushes past your gag reflex, stretching your throat wide as he buries himself to the hilt, your nose pressed flush against his pelvis. Your eyes water instantly, throat fluttering around his throbbing length while he holds you there, growling in pleasure at the tight, wet heat.

Then he starts fucking your throat with raw, powerful strokes, just like that, leaving you helplessly horny, pulling back just enough for you to choke in a desperate breath before slamming back down, using your throat like a toy. Saliva spills messily down your chin and onto your chest with every brutal thrust, your muffled moans vibrating around him as he claims your mouth completely.

You whimper, digging your nails into his thighs, but you know he won’t stop.

“You can take it, slut, come on, I know you can. Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? While you were talking all that big, bragging about how brave you are? Is this all what your filthy mouth can handle?”

Minho records a brief moment of you choking on his cock, until, with a trembling hand, he ends the video, puts your phone back in his pocket, and focuses his other hand on you, since he knows that fucking your throat requires both of his hands tangled in your hair, above your head.

You last a few moments, just like him. The tightness of your throat, the vibration of your moans are pleasantly suffocating, so when he’s close to his orgasm, Minho pulls his cock out of you, strokes it roughly while growling loudly, and finally cums vigorously on your face, right on your left cheek as your flushed face gasps for air.

It’s been intense.

He looks at your sweet face, covered in his cum.

You’re both breathless, agitated, ecstatic; your pussy throbs hard, craving even more.

He looks down, and something in his big eyes softens, though he remains mischievous.

“Stand up,” he orders.

You’re still processing the situation, but in a clumsy attempt, you stand in front of him while you shyly wipe his semen from your face.

“You want me to touch you now, huh?” he whispers seductively.

Minho moves dangerously close to you again and suddenly grabs your ass hard. You’re so sensitive and aroused that you gasp at his touch and nod uselessly and energetically, hoping that what comes next for you two is finally fucking.

Your skin prickles; you can feel him so close, and your panties are already soaked. But then he does something unpredictable again. He laughs mockingly and quickly pulls up his underwear and shorts.

“Maybe next time, you little pervert. This will be a lesson for perverts like you.”

wen’s note: #mebeingsilly. i had this rotting in the drafts. how u doing? :3 ty for reading, anything’s greatly appreciated (except silent readers... jk... or not) <3 || edit: we got gym lino omg whooo cheered

From: Jagiya

>Are you alone?

That’s the text that he gets from you, and, checking his screen again, it’s 10:12am. You knew that he was going to be out with Chan for “birthday brunch for the birthday boy” (Chan’s words, not his). You had even left him a brand-new watch on the nightstand with a little post-it note that read: “For your outfit today ♡ Love you, birthday boy!”

So your text was strange, for sure. Did you need him to be alone? Was something wrong? He peeked at Chan in line in front of him, who was engrossed too deeply in the menu to really be paying attention. He typed a quick message back:

From: Sunshine

>No? I’m out to brunch with Chan hyung.

From: Jagiya

>Good.

He waits a couple moments for you to say something else, but nothing comes through. He and Chan are at the front of the line now, so he pockets his phone, hoping you’ll have given him a less vague (and less oddly threatening) response by the time he orders his coffee and food. 

“Don’t order anything too big, you’re getting lunch later with Ayen-ah and Seungmin-ah,” Chan reminds him.

“Okay appa.” Felix responds, teasing.

Chan rolls his eyes, but motions for him to order. He does, and then the battle of who gets to pay ensues (Chan wins, but Felix swears up and down that next time he won’t let Chan pay for him). Conversation is light and comfortable, as it always is with his hyung, and Felix forgets for a moment about your text.

But once they’ve got their food and drinks and settled down at a table, Felix pulls out his phone to check the time and sees a new message - rather, a few new messages from you. He smiles to himself, delighted to hear from you (even if you’re being strange).

From: Jagiya

>[3 attachments]

>A sneak peek of your present for later <3

He opens the messages expecting the usual birthday set-up from you: decorations, maybe a messy kitchen, hopefully a photo of you in the cute apron you always wear when you bake that makes him just a little bit feral.

Instead he’s greeted by you in a silken robe that’s just hanging off of your shoulder, a flash of beautiful blue lace peeking out from under it. He can almost see the curve of your chest, but the robe covers it just so, hiding how the lace probably frames it just right. You’re hiking the slit of the robe up with your hand that isn’t holding the camera, just hiding where he wants to see the most. There’s the smallest flash of the same blue lace peeking out there, just a hint of it, but your hand is placed deliberately: this is a tease, not a gift. It has his fingers curling into the jeans he’s wearing, jaw clenched tight.

“You okay, mate?” Chan says, snapping him out of his reverie.

“You look like you’re about to break your phone in half…or cry. It’s your birthday, if you’re thinking about work right now-”

“Says you,” Felix says, barely contained strain laced throughout his words, “And I’m fine. Just forgot to turn the stove off this morning, apparently. I just got a text about it.”

It’s a lie, and a flimsy one at that - why would Felix have the stove running this morning anyways? No need to cook, he was going out to brunch this morning, and you had forbidden him from making just about anything without you.

Chan catches this, too, squinting at him suspiciously, but he’s not going to push it, not when Felix’s ears are turning red. Had it been another day, he probably would’ve poked and prodded at him a little more, but it was Felix’s birthday. He had to be nice to him today.

“Whatever, mate,” Chan says, “Sounds like something you would do.”

Okay, maybe he didn’t have to be nice.

“Hey! I’m not that bad…”

– – –

The next time he receives an unprompted message from you is four hours later, when he’s at lunch with Seungmin and Jeongin. The younger two really went all out - a higher end restaurant, with a reserved booth in the back for privacy. Felix complained that they hadn’t warned him, and now he was severely under-dressed, but Seungmin had just stuck his tongue out at him.

“It would’ve ruined the surprise,” he had said.

“This lunch was a surprise, I knew it was happening!”

Now, lunch had fallen into an easy lull of conversation. The three of them really were very close in age, and it was easy for the conversation to descend into madness (in the best way possible). Felix very rarely smiled as big as he did with these two around.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he figured it wouldn’t hurt to check it. They were waiting on their food still, so he had time to respond to whatever he was receiving.

He wasn’t ready for what he saw.

From: Jagiya

>are you ignoring me :(( that’s fine, i’ll just send these photos to someone else then.

>[4 attachments]

The robe is still in the first picture, spread under you like a canvas. You’re sprawled across the silk on the bed, one finger of your free hand teasing the strap of the lacy bra. The picture cuts off your lower half just below your belly button, so he can’t see the lace panties that you had teased him with earlier.

The rest of the photos are of a similar vein - all taken in a way that hides your lower half from him. It has him reeling, completely tuned out from whatever conversation Seungmin and Jeongin are trying to have with him. He’d feel bad if he wasn’t so obsessed with you in that pretty blue lace, his favorite shade of blue hugging the curve of your breasts just right. He can feel his cock stirring in his pants as he types his response, fingers angry and quick.

From: Sunshine

>don’t you dare.

>you know better than that, baby.

>stop sending me these now, or you’re going to regret it later.

Your typing bubble pops up immediately, and you’re quick to respond innocently, like you didn’t do anything wrong.

From: Jagiya

>Lixie!!!!!

>miss you already, baby :(( 

>you don’t like them? i took those photos just for you, though… 

From: Sunshine

>i didn’t say that, jagiya.

>but you know better than to tease me when i’m in public. keep it up and you’ll be in trouble later.

From: Jagiya

>oooooh, so scary, sunshine!

>we’ll see how i’m feeling later <3 no promises though, Lixie!

He can hear you giggling through the screen, see the way your eyes are probably sparkling with mischief. It makes him smile, despite himself, and he shuts off his phone before he gets caught for not paying attention.

“Stop texting your partner and pay attention to us!” Jeongin whines, flopping his upper body dramatically on the table.

“You get all mushy when you text them,” Seungmin says, face scrunching up, “It’s gross. Don’t do that kind of stuff when I’m around.”

Well. So much for not getting caught.

– – –

The last time is when he finally breaks. You’d sent him a couple of other teasing messages after his lunch, but there hadn’t been any more photos (which he was grateful for - he wasn’t going to last the whole day if you had sent more photos of you in that little number). Just little things, telling him about how much you missed him…like that.

From: Jagiya [2:32pm]

>missing you, baby. missing how you feel between my legs

From: Jagiya [4:27pm]

>wish it was 7 already so you would be home. can’t cum without you anymore

>you ruined me

>don’t you feel bad? for ruining me like this, making me so desperate and pathetic for you

From: Jagiya [5:02pm]

>need you

>need you so so bad lixie

>im typinf with one hand rn

>bet you wish you could see

From: Jagiya [5:13pm]

>im soooo fucking wet it’s unbelievable

>shame my birthday boy isn’t home to taste his cake ;(

>it’s nice and moist for you

He always responded, patience thinning and thinning but always kind. Telling you he’ll be home in no time, that he can’t wait to see you, that he needs you to be good and wait for him, but God, were you making it hard. He can’t help but scroll up to the photos you already sent him when he gets the chance, phone angled away from the rest of his friends. He’s sure he looks so suspicious right now, readjusting his jeans over and over while glancing at his phone obsessively. He hates to admit it, but you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and he really does consider, for a moment, leaving early to go visit you in your apartment.

But then he’d be giving in to your bratiness, giving in to your teasing and taunting. You’ve been poking and prodding him all day, and he knows that he’s just a breath away from breaking down and reminding you of your place.

And that’s when his phone pings again, right at six o’clock on the dot. He knows it’s you - anyone else who’d be texting him is already in the room with him, chatting and hanging out. He feels so fucking pathetic, because they’re here to celebrate him, and all he can think about is leaving and burying his face between your legs and tasting you through those blue panties. He hasn’t actually seen them still, but he’s pictured them so many times in his mind he’s sure he knows what they look like, the way they hug your curves just right.

He opens the message tentatively, hoping it’s just more of your teasing words, but what he sees has his breath catching in his throat.

From: Jagiya

>[1 attachment]

>Cake in bed for the birthday boy <3

And damn it, it’s you, and he finally, finally catches a glimpse of those panties clinging to your ass. The photo is from behind, meaning you must have propped your phone up and set a timer for him. Your ass is high in the air, face buried in the sheets in front of you so he can’t see it. Your legs are propped up with, and you’ve got one hand pulling the panties taut against your body, showing a very graphic outline of your pussy against the lace.

He doesn’t hesitate to text you, lower lip caught between his teeth.

From: Sunshine

>don’t you DARE move.

>i’ll be home in 20. you’ll regret messing with me like this, angel.

He’s fumbling out of the room in seconds, throwing out half-assed excuses and apologies to his band members. He makes eye contact with Chan for only a moment, but the moment hangs long enough for him to realize that Chan knows. There’s something knowing in his eyes, and Felix realizes he must have connected the dots that his earlier behavior was linked to this. That he knew that you were involved. It made him flush a deep red, immediately breaking eye contact with his hyung and running out of the room.

He doesn’t remember the drive to your apartment. Not really. All he remembers is the friction of his jeans against his clothed cock, straining against the fabric, and how tight he had to grip the steering wheel to keep his hands off of it. He’s pulling in the driveway at record pace, and he’s flying up the stairs to your apartment, fingers finding his copy of your keys as he jogs up.

When he does get into your apartment he makes sure to be loud. He wants you to hear him, wants the anticipation to build until it breaks you, and you call out for him. He’s slow in his movements, locking the door carefully behind him. His shoes come off at a snail’s pace, keys dropping into the bowl by the door with a clank! You’re in the bedroom - he can see the yellow glow from your lamp lighting up the hallway. He’s shrugging off his jacket gently when he catches a quiet whimper, far off and echoing down the hallway. He can imagine the face you’re making right now, caught somewhere between being turned on and embarrassed to be so needy.

He wonders if you thought tonight would be a night where you’d be in control when you started sending those pictures and texts. He wonders if that’s why you were so bold - no repercussions if you’re the one in charge. But he’s the birthday boy, isn’t he? He deserves to take whatever he wants, it’s the least you can do for him after torturing him all day. He’s been patient, he really has.

His steps are slow and deliberate towards the bedroom, just heavy enough to echo a bit. Loud enough that he’s certain you’ve heard.

He’s proven right when you whine again, clearer this time now that he’s closer. Your breathing is loud, panting now, and the shadow you cast into the hallway is heaving, like it’s taking everything in your power to remember how to breathe at all.

It makes him harder, if that’s possible.

“Lix?” you call out, voice meeker than he’s ever heard it.

“‘s that you?”

He just chuckles, low and taunting, and your shadow arches a bit, falling across the hallway like a mural. He memorizes the blurry lines of it, obsessed with how, even in shadow form, you’re so beautiful and responsive for him. His pretty angel, all wrapped in lace and sin.

When he rounds the corner he has to stop for a second, unable to move when you look like that.

“God angel, you’re even prettier in person,” he rumbles, deep voice sending shivers down your spine, “Look so perfect wrapped up like this for me…shame you had to act like a slut all day.”

His voice dips impossibly lower when he calls you a slut, tone rough and mean. He doesn’t get any closer yet, and it makes you squirm. You know you weren’t good. Hell, you were deliberately not good, wanting him to come home and ruin you. But the way he says it now, the way he calls you a slut like it’s nothing? You know you’re in for a long night.

“You said something about birthday cake, didn’t you, angel?” he murmurs, moving in closer.

You feel like prey under his gaze, and it makes you shrink into yourself. He laughs, low and teasing, fingers teasing over the lacy edge of your panties. You’re soaking - having been for a while - and the center of the skimpy blue lace is so wet it’s a deeper blue, your arousal dripping down your thighs and onto the bedsheets below. You try not to arch into his touch, you really do, but when his fingers dip lower, running up your slit, you can’t help the way you bend into his touch. It pulls a deep chuckle out of his chest, breathless and light, before you feel the bed dip behind you.

You don’t dare move, not when he’s like this. When Felix is in charge, there’s no fighting back, no being a brat. You just take what he gives you, no questions asked. You don’t even dare a glance back, too scared that he may just leave you like this, all wet and needy for him.

You feel his breath against your panties, right over where you need him, and it sends sparks up your spine, a shiver wracking your body before you can stop it. But he doesn’t care, big hands pushing your legs further apart before landing on your hips. You whimper when his tongue licks a fat stripe up your dripping cunt through the lace, like he’s too lazy to even make the effort to move them aside and expose your heat to the cool air.

He eats you out just like this, your face buried in the sheets and his hands controlling your hips, stopping you from bucking away when his tongue starts to be too much. And it really is too much, so wet and sloppy through the thin lace. He presses himself deep into your warmth, licking the dribbling wetness from your thighs like a man starved. Sometimes when he’s eating you out, you think he might get more out of it than you do, especially when he gets like this. He eats you like there’s nothing but this left to live for. It’s obscene, and the coil in your stomach is already winding tight.

He bites down harshly on your clit through the fabric, teeth unkind in their touch, and your arms collapse under you, a silent scream tearing from your throat. He keeps abusing your clit, moving a hand to thumb at it while he presses his tongue into your through the panties, and you can’t form coherent thoughts anymore. You’re babbling, but you can’t really hear it. Everything but the slick sounds echoing from where your cunt and his mouth meet fades into static, your brain unable to focus on anything but the pleasure he’s giving you.

You vaguely hear yourself warning him that your orgasm is coming, and everything is winding tighter and tighter-

Until he pulls away completely.

You scream out a sob, voice hoarse and broken from sounds you don’t even really remember making. You’re frantic, trying to buck back into his touch, but he just lets out a tsk, and it makes you whimper. You feel so pathetic under him like this, pleading wordlessly for something, anything but you can’t help it, not when you’re already so worked up.

“P-please, please, ‘m sorry for teasing earlier, I’m sorry!” you sob out, words finally back to you.

“I’ll do anything, anything, just-hic! please touch me? Please please please, I’ll be good for you now, I swear!”

“Anything?” he says, amusement laced in his tone. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, angel.”

He’s flipping you over with practiced ease, so strong it looks effortlessly. You realize that somewhere between him eating you out and him pulling away he’s lost his clothes, body on display in front of you. Your hands reach out instinctively, just wanting to run your hands down his body, but he swats them away, tone harsh.

“Brats who tease all day don’t get to touch.” he says, tone final.

“Hand above your head, and keep them there. You’ll take what I give you and only what I give you.”

You nod, not trusting your voice to even come out anymore. He grins at you, eyes half-lidded and swirling with lust. His hands move to spread your legs open again, slotting himself between them. He doesn’t take your panties off, just slides them to the side, pressing his hot cock against your waiting entrance. You suck in a harsh breath, eyes rolling back in your head when he ruts against you once, twice. His tip catches your entrance for a moment and it has you reeling, arousal gushing from you in waves.

“You don’t deserve this yet, you know…” he starts, trailing off.

Your eyes find him, wide and glassy and desperate, and he sighs like you’re such a pain. Like he isn’t leaking against you, precum dripping down his pretty length to mix with your arousal. He’s not very thick, but his cock is so long, curved up in a way that presses into your g-spot just right when he’s filling you up. “Fine,” he huffs, rolling his eyes at you, “But only because it’s my birthday, and I deserve to treat myself today. Just lay there and take it like a good toy, m’kay?”

He’s pressing into you before you can even respond, and it punches a broken moan out of your throat. It just feels so fucking deep, his cock filling you up so far that you can’t breathe, air caught in your throat as he presses even deeper than you thought he could reach. You’re gasping, short little breaths, vision blackening around the edges.

But true to his word, this isn’t about your pleasure, your comfort. He picks up a punishing pace immediately, chasing his own release in the warmth of your walls. You’re still so tight every time, and Felix has to grit his teeth together to choke back the whimpers that claw at his throat. He lets out a low groan every once and a while, eyes never leaving you as he fucks into you like an animal. His head dips to your chest, and he’s mouthing at your chest through the lace of the bra, darkening it with his spit. The lace is thin, and he tugs on your nipple with his teeth through it, which has your whole body shaking, voice leaving your throat raw.

“Please, please, Lix, can’t, I-please!”

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore, tears streaming down your hot cheeks. You look absolutely wrecked, the remains of your makeup smeared across your cheeks and under your eyes. Felix thinks you look beautiful like this, when you can’t do anything but give yourself up to him. It makes him feel so damn lucky to have you like this, under him. It makes him fuck into your sex harder, teeth digging into your chest through the lace. He yanks his head back and the lace shreds, tearing off of your chest. If you weren’t drunk on his cock you’d complain, but he’s latched back onto your nipple so fast you can’t do anything but focus on him. It’s all teeth and tongue, marks sucked and bit into your skin so harshly it’s sure to leave a mark.

All it does is bring you closer to your impending edge this time. It’s so much sweeter this time, heat curling through every nerve in your body after your denied release. Your whole body feels electric, everything fading away but you and Felix, and the way he’s drilling into you like there’s no tomorrow.

“Fuck, so good, taking me like so perfect, angel,” he grunts, voice dipping even lower as he ruts into you.

“Keep clenchin’ around me-yeah, jus’ like that-shiiiit, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep that up.”

You whine out at that, eyes focusing enough to find his through your tears. He grins down at you, something feral hiding in his smile.

“You like that idea? Want me to fill you up, to claim you? Fuck a-shit-a baby into you? ‘s that what you wanted? Wanted to give me a baby for my birthday?”

“Fill me up, please, wanna-wanna feel you, ah! Wanna feel you fill me up-it’s shooo good, hrk! So fucking good, please please please! Want it, want your cum, want-mmph!”

He shuts you up with a kiss, all tongue and teeth and spit. It’s messy and gross, and it’s all it takes to push you over the edge, cunt pulsing around him. He pulls back with a deep groan, and his teeth dig into your neck as his release overtakes him. It hurts so good, and it sends you into another mini-orgasm, walls weakly fluttering and pulsing around him again. His teeth dig harder into your neck, hips bucking thrice before stilling, painting the deepest parts of you white with his cum. Your hands are still pressed above your head, and your whimpers are what pull him back to Earth.

“Can…can I touch you now?” you say tentatively, chest still heaving from your orgasm.

He barely gets to nod before your hands are flying to tangle with his hair, pulling his face down to kiss him. It starts with the mouth, but soon your hands are cupping his face, angling him so you can kiss all over his face. His cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids - nothing is safe from the gentle press of your mouth. You go until he’s giggling, cock still soft inside of you, and he can feel the way you’re smiling through your kiss.

You pull back, looking at him with so much fondness he thinks his chest might explode.

“Happy birthday, sunshine.”

“Best birthday ever!” he exclaims, collapsing into you.

“I’m glad,” you say with a tired chuckle, “Because I don’t think I’ll be moving for a while.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, very clearly not sorry, “Won’t happen again.”

“Liar.” you huff, but the warmth in your tone is impossible to hide.

He slips out of you with a hiss, and rolls off to the side of you, pulling you against his chest. You wrinkle your nose, trying to push away from him.

“I’m gross.” You say, struggling in his hold.

“Don’t say that about my partner,” is all you get in response, Felix pulling you closer, “Or we might have beef.”

“Who taught you the word beef?” you snort.

“I’m hip with the kids,” he huffs, clearly offended, “I’m the hippest, actually.”

“Sure, halfway fifty,” you say, “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Hey, you’re the one dating this ‘halfway fifty’ year old!”

“What can I say? I like myself a silver fox-”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough out of you!”

The laughter settles and you sigh into him, body worn. You’re fairly certain you might actually melt into the bed tonight, bones jelly and mind mush. But there’s nowhere you’d rather be than in Felix’s arms, so you settle down, letting his gentle breathing and warm embrace lull you to sleep.

The pounding in Felix’s head was just enough to distract him from the colorful clothes around the two of you. The initially exciting shopping trip to the mall with your boyfriend had quickly slowed down thanks to the headache he developed out of the blue. Your comforting words and warm hands on his face only helped so much, and he felt horrible for his body refusing to let him enjoy your date.

It wasn’t until you reminded him of the medicines he had packed away in his bag that he let up on his pouting Then, with the familiar feeling of the plastic of a pill bottle on his fingers and a gentle reminder from you that this should be fun for the both of you, Felix finds himself leading you to the food court. He quickly buys a bottle of water and chugs down 3 pills. It’s over the dosage of 2 he normally would take, but he’s desperate to have a good time with you.

Not long after, he’s back to his normal self and the thumping pain in his head is long gone. Wide smiles and crescent eyes watch you pick out interesting clothes, some even meant to match with him. Everything is back to normal!

That is until 30 minutes after the fact when he’s patiently sitting outside of your changing room waiting for you to try on the next outfit. He starts to feel a new, less painful ache. One between his legs that he’s all too familiar with.

Literal lines of sweat are dripping down his forehead and his neck when you open the curtain to present the outfit you picked out. He forces a smile and has to tear his eyes away from the tight pants to give his opinion. A curt, breathy, “Beautiful.”

The sweat immediately catches your attention and obviously raises concerns from the way your eyebrows furrow. He notices right away and tries not to let it worry you, shooing you away and encouraging you to try on the last pieces of fabric that await you in the changing room.

The second the curtains close behind you he racks his brain for possible reasons as to why a sudden, strong feeling of horniness took over his body. It’s even to the point where his whole body tingles from the ceiling fans above him. The slow gusts of wind make his cock ache in his jeans and goosebumps litter his arms.

He doesn’t think he’s ever gotten this horny in his life. Even the time when you managed to rile him up to the point where he almost came in his jeans when you brushed past him he had never felt this way. He swore he could feel his veins burning as he looked through his bag for his phone, praying that Google would explain everything.

But he doesn’t get far enough to grab his phone, because the realization hits him like a tsunami wave. The pills. He realizes too late that he never checked which medicine he took. And sure enough, when he checked his bag, the tiny plastic bottle he had a hold on earlier wasn’t his Ibuprofen.

Instead, it was a blue pill bottle that he kept for special medicines that he would occasionally get prescribed. This time around, it was the brand new, not prescribed pills he had put to the side for… intimacy reasons.

It was embarrassing at first for him. A young, attractive man in his 20s struggling with his sex life. All thanks to the wear and tear from work stress: the unforgiving cycle of working too much and being overwhelmed, then taking a break and working too little just to fall behind.

You understood! It’s understandable to not be able to get hard when there’s a never ending dread that has made home in the back of your mind. And it was clearly obvious that he is attracted to you, every other time the two of you were intimate is enough evidence for that.

So you offered him an idea that might help! That idea being “horny” pills. It took some convincing and consistent reassurance for him to cave and agree. Which led to that little blue bottle of little red pills that made his not-so-little friend crave your attention.

“Lixie?” Your voice snaps him out of his daydreaming and his head snaps up to see your head poking out of the curtain. Your giggle goes straight to his dick and he has to force a smile to get through the ache. “I need your help with this dress. I can’t get the zipper up.”

You don’t need to ask twice, especially when the promise of getting to see your bare skin is on the table. He’s joining you in the blink of an eye, using his clammy, shaky hands to zip up the dress the rest of the way. Your body flushes at the way he licks his lips as he looks you up and down multiple times.

“Do you like it?” His eyes snap up to yours in the mirror and he nods. It’s pretty obvious to you what’s going on in his head at this point, minus the reason for it, so you rip the dress off and rush to the cashier as fast as you can.

Felix is on your tail the whole time. A hand on your hip and his chest pressed to your back as he shoves his credit card into the card reader. Then again when the two of you get to the car, this time both of his hands on your hips and his face shoved into your neck.

“Need you so fucking bad.” His hard-on is even more obvious now as he grinds it against your thigh, groaning and whining into your neck about how good it feels. You struggle to get the car keys out of his pocket when his hands are all over you, making you feel good when they aren’t even doing much.

“Felix… Not here.” The two of you drabbled in public sex before so it wasn’t a new experience for either of you. But it had been a while since the two of you were intimate so you really didn’t want it to be in the dirty car garage of a mall. In the middle of the day, mind you.

“I need something. Baby, please. I-I can’t do this.” The desperation in his voice is enough to make your neck whip around, almost knocking into his as you look back at him with confusion. He knows you all too well and the answer to your unspoken question is already on the tip of his tongue.

“I accidentally took those sex pills instead of pain meds.” He doesn’t bother explaining further; he doesn’t care anymore. The only thing that’s on his mind is getting you into the car so he can get some sort of stimulation on his poor, achy cock.

You're lucky to even have gotten his hands off of you after that, let alone getting him in the passenger seat and buckled in without him launching at you. However you’re even less lucky as you drive him home, one hand on the wheel and the other- well, on his dick.

You could hear the wetness of him jerking himself off before you saw it. He was keen to get your help though. His eyes were teary and his voice came out a distressed whine as he pleaded for you to help, complaining that his hand wasn’t comparable to how good your hand would feel.

The windows on your shared car are as tinted as legally possible, so you quickly cave and slide your hand toward him. Now 5 minutes away from the house, you quicken your hands in hopes that he’ll cum this soon. But luck isn’t on either of your sides today and the car’s already in park before he’s even close to cumming.

You don’t make it past the entryway before Felix is shoving you forward, pinning you to the wall, and pulling your bottoms to your knees. The sight of your panties all messy and your pussy lips equally as messy from your excitement is enough to make him feral.

“You’re so good to me, Honey. Always so obedient and keeping my pussy ready for me when I most need it. I’m going to give you the world and more.” He doesn’t wait for you to make a comment before he’s pushing your underwear to join your bottoms.

One hand rests on the wall by your face and the other pushes against your lower back, arching your back at the same time that he pushes his cock in. Your walls are warm and wet as they take every last inch of him in, almost as if two puzzle pieces were finally placed together.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head and he sucks on your neck, whispering incoherent mumbles until he’s bottomed out. He only stops then to take deep breaths and calm his own body down. Now that he’s finally inside of you, the effects of the pills feel a million times stronger.

He genuinely feels like a dog in heat, hips still rutting into yours even as his mind tells his body to relax. It doesn’t listen in the slightest and after a short pause his hips are finding a rigorous rhythm. 

Felix is a man possessed behind you; nails digging into your skin leaving bruises to come and hips moving with more force than you thought he could give. It’s hard to think he’s not possessed with his filthy mouth, something he’s always been good at but it hits differently when he’s rock hard inside of you and eager to feel every inch of your body all at once.

You start to feel like the pills are affecting you. Your own body reacts to his fervent movements with warm clenches and moans that spur him on. You feel so sensitive and your orgasm sneaks up on you, causing you to wiggle in his hold. The shuffle of your limbs makes him lose his angle and you both whine.

“No, no, no, no, no, no. Stop. You gotta stay arched, baby. Yeah, just like that. Ffuck…” The hand on your back pushes you forward, completely squishing you against the wall as he tries to arch you back to how you previously were. He knows that he did it right when you start to flutter around him again and your moans ascend a few pitches.

With the other hand using all of his fingers to rub your clit back and forth, he pushes you over the edge. You clench around him as you moan into the wall, your arms shaking as you try to hold yourself up against it. He growls against your ear and bites down on it as he continues fucking you through your high.

He doesn’t stop after you’re done. If anything it only encourages him, the ache in his veins telling him that he needs to keep going and make you feel even better. And so he does, with one hand still furiously rubbing your clit back and forth while the other now moves to your waist and holds up your slouching form.

It just squeezes you appreciatively, almost even possessively as he holds you in place when you start to flail. It doesn’t become mean until in the midst of your thrashing, you move yourself just slightly to the point where he loses his angle again. He pushes his hand roughly against you and arches your back himself again, this time with a disgruntled snap. 

“Stop fucking doing that.” He’s huffing into your ear as his hips pick up pace, going even faster than he was before. “Be good or else I’ll bend you over with nothing to lean on.” But it’s hard to control your body when painful pleasure is swimming through your body. Even more so when you feel another orgasm lurking.

“B-Baby, fuck! Give me a sec, you’re-” You cut yourself off with a shriek as the hand on your waist moves to tangle itself in your hair. It uses the grip to pull you back up to rest your back flat against his chest. His other hand finally falters at this point, instead of rubbing your clit it sinks into your thigh.

“I’m what, Honey. Tearing up your guts?” He laughs out a sound of agreement that turns into a guttural groan as his blinding thrusts finally let up. A few sharp thrusts and a series of moans fall from his lips as he empties himself out inside of you. It feels like gallons of his seed are filling your stomach, and the feeling of it leaking out onto your inner thighs is enough to make you believe that’s the case.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. He just stands there with his forehead against your shoulder and his arms wrapped around your torso, mind reeling as he comes down from such an intense high.

“Baby. You didn’t cum with me at the end, did you?” He’s more upset that he faltered that badly, but the twitch of his cock lets you both know that he’s not close to being done regardless. The question is a real testament to your faith. Lie to him and maybe bribe him to let you take a break, or tell the truth and deal with the consequences. Though, it doesn’t seem like he was asking.

He pulls out and moves his hand to the small of your back. Neither of you even spared a glance at your bottoms as you’re dragged to the living room and shoved into the couch. It knocks the breath from your lungs momentarily, and it’s all the time he needs to bend you to his will. Your shoulders sink into the bottom cushions and your legs are hovering just above you as he shoves his cock inside of you again. 

The breath is almost knocked from you again as he finds a new, rougher pace to follow. This one isn’t nearly as fast but the new angle, thanks to your ankles being by his ears, sends him right where he wants to be. His previous load froths along his length as he fucks into you like your lives are on the line. 

Your hands find home on his biceps and your nails leave deep crescent shapes along his skin as you desperately try to find something to ground yourself with. The new vigor he fucks you with makes it so that your next orgasm builds up within a minute or two. The feral stare from his lidded eyes only makes your stomach squeeze as you realize that he really has no plans to stop, even if he really wants to. 

“Felix, baby, s-slow down. It feels w-weird.” You push against his stomach in hopes that it will slow him down, but it doesn’t. He stays quiet and only responds by grabbing your wrist and shoving it into the cushion by your head; a wordless command for ‘Hands off.’ You look up just in time to see his gaze grow more intense.

He even leans forward, both of his hands moving to your thighs to fold them into your chest. His hips pick up speed once he has you folded to his liking and you find that strange feeling growing stronger. You get a glimpse of him licking his pink lips that then perk up into a menacing smile and then the feeling grows too strong, forcing your eyes closed and your legs to combat his hold.

Your body can only shake as you gush around him and he curses under his breath at the sight. Your cunt spams around him and you squirt through his merciless fucking. The wet, squelching noises combat the volume of your cries to the point where he periodically goes out of his way to thrust into you even rougher just to hear it more.

“You hear her talking to me? Fucking shit- She really liked that, huh baby?” He laughs in disbelief and slams into you repeatedly, chasing his own sudden orgasm from watching you cum so intensely.

“That was so fucking hot, Baby.” The whine in his voice doesn’t match the cocky look on his face, but you can’t be bothered to comment about it as he finishes inside of you all of a sudden. Your sensitive walls constrict around him yet again and he cums deep inside, riding his own orgasm out to the sound of your overwhelmed sobs.

His chest heaves as he catches his breath and he takes the moment to glance at a clock on the wall. It’s been a few hours since he took the pills so they should be going down soon. He can already feel his brain going back to normal, and his thoughts are clearing up as the two of you sit there unmoving.

“You… Are you ok, Honey?” Your sniffles are enough to make his heart drop into his ass, but when you look up at him the anxiety leaves his body. You smile at him through the tears and laugh as best as you can while still breathless.

“Holy shit, Felix.” He matches your chuckle and leans forward, slotting your legs on either side of his waist as he repeatedly pushes his lips against your cheek. “I’m… great. But you owe me for fucking me within an inch of my life like that with no warning.”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

@yaorzu-blog @amararosesblog @jiminssluttyminx @clemissleepy

@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

@dreamingaboutjisung @everythingboutkpop @velvetmoonlght @4l17h4

Felix's favorite positions are missionary, sixty nine, and much to your surprise, he likes putting you in a mating press. He's a romantic boy, he loves looking you in the eyes as he's thrusting slowly, deep inside of you. But he also likes biting your neck as he's pounding you.

He likes when you scream for him.

Whether it's his name or just random screams of pleasure, he wants to hear it. He likes eating you out. A lot. You're his favorite desert, even better than his brownies <3.

His favorite color of lingerie on you is a baby blue. He's gonna give you Louis Vuitton jewelry or clothes to wear while he fucks you senseless though. He likes bows and lace.

He has a sir kink, he wants you to be a respectful little babygirl. He likes wrapping his hand around your throat and squeezing just a little.

He's using a vibrator on you if you misbehave and you're not allowed to cum for a long, long time. Other than that he doesn't really use extra stuff in the bedroom, just your pretty little pussy.

felix’s sex drive is high.

almost anything you do has potential to get him turned on.

such as the one time you came downstairs, only wearing the simplest blue dress and cute matching heels.

he felt hotter than a volcano.

and you felt the same when he had you on the kitchen countertop, legs spread, and his fingers inside of you.

you both almost forgot about the brownies you were planning to make and give to your friends.

not only does he like to have sex at home or in public, felix likes to have sex in the car.

nothing beats a late night drive. his left hand on the wheel and his right hand on your thigh.

he can’t ever forget the one night when he said that he’d take you for a joyride, and you arrived wearing the shortest and tightest baby tee that was a bit faded and see through and the tiniest skirt that wasn’t even trying to hide your baby blue panties.

you were driving him absolutely crazy, and he drove you crazy with the way he pulled over to the side of the highway and quickly had you pinned in the backseat as he pounded you from behind.

“fuckin hell, baby, you’re squeezing me like a glove. and that stupid mini skirt too. makes you look so fuckin cute like a doll.”

you whined and moaned with every hit he had against your sweet spot, and your acrylic nails scratched the leather of the car seats, as the rain added extra noise, pittering and pattering against the windows.

your brain was absolutely foggy just like the car window, all white with your airy breaths and eventually felix’s cum.

the mess in the backseat was the least of felix’s concerns. he liked it whenever sex ended up messy.

another instance of sex turning into a mess was when he was busy working on a new keyboard for his pc.

he had his glasses on, the little tweezers sitting in his ear like a pencil, and his hands were working so delicately on the green motherboards.

you were bored out of your mind that day, but god, you loved watching him work. he looked so smart and hot, and god, you wanted your nerdy boyfriend to ruin you.

he couldn’t concentrate much either with the way you looked at him. your eyes all wide and doe-like, but there’s that hint of boredom.

if only he knew how to control himself after one kiss because only then he’d have you pinned down on the floor, papers and equipment scattered everywhere, your panties tossed aside somewhere, and his tongue inside of you.

Your hand was gripping his hair so tightly, and you couldn’t even concentrate on speaking when his tongue was grazing every inch of your pussy, gathering up all of your wetness.

“no need to think too hard about anything, baby. you just sit there and look pretty while i devour you.”

and of course, felix gets so sloppy with eating your pussy that your essence and cum spill everywhere, creating a little puddle on the floor.

felix loves morning sex.

what better way to get up in the morning than to take you from behind. both of you half awake. no thoughts behind anything, it’s all just feeling.

felix would move at a slower pace than normal during morning sex, and something about it hit different for you. your wet pussy clenching on him extra hard, the fullness feeling too good.

you frankly wouldn’t want to get out of bed and just spend your morning cockwarming Felix, as he lazily hits your sweet spot and slowly plays with your clit.

his morning voice was so fucking hot. dark, deeper, and raspier than his normal voice, you couldn’t help but gush all over his cock.

“hmmm you like that, angel? fuck, baby, we’re barely awake and you’re still clenching on me desperately. shhh, don’t say anything just let me make you feel good.”

even after the morning sex, felix makes sure you have the best morning aftercare and delicious breakfast in bed.

sometimes you cockwarm him while he’s playing his video games. either you’re under the desk giving him head, or you’re on his lap not daring to move an inch as your pussy clenches around his still and hard cock, getting wetter with need by the second.

felix prefers to have you in his lap because he can tightly hold your waist and thighs and kiss your neck, whispering sweet praises into your ear.

“yeah, baby, that’s it. just sit still and warm me up good. you look so cute and pretty like this.”

sometimes, felix likes to be on a discord call with his friends while playing his video games and having you cockwarm him. it adds to the thrill.

felix’s opinion on toys? he doesn’t use them that much, but if you’re into it, then hell, he’ll be into them for you.

whenever he uses a sex toy on you, it’s whenever you tested his patience in someway or he comes home frustrated and you ask him to take it out on you.

he’d push you into the mattress, as he pushes a large dildo into your crying cunt, the tip hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.

you would moan loudly and scream, but god, it felt so damn good.

sometimes, he’d get upset that at the possibility of you preferring the dildo more than the real thing.

luckily for felix, you’re always begging for his cum by the end of the night.

felix often doesn’t tell you to call him anything in the bedroom. sometimes you screaming his name is enough.

but he can’t lie, you calling him daddy once or twice does something to him.

imagine you’re under felix. his hands wrapped around your wrists, as he’s fucking you hard and good. he’s hitting your sweet spot so deliciously, and in a daze of pleasure, you start calling him daddy, begging for more.

god, felix could just burst just from hearing your sweet voice calling him such things.

“yeah, angel? you want more from daddy? it’s okay, daddy’s here, and he’ll make you feel good.”

and yes, he will call you a good girl. because you’re always a good girl for him.

more often than not, felix makes sure that your neck is littered with love bites by the end of the night.

you’re his forever, and nothing says “mine” more than a gallery of beautiful pink-purple splotches on your skin.

it’s his subtle way of being possessive over you :333

even during the aftercare baths you and him share, he’s always kissing the marks he left behind, reminding you of how good you have been to him and how much he loves you.

“you’re so beautiful when you’re marked up like this, baby. so pretty and perfect and so mine. my good girl.”

and he loves it when you leave love bites on him, especially on his sensitive adam’s apple. often time, he lets you leave bite marks on his chest because that’s a place he can easily cover up if he has rehearsal the next day.

even in the next morning, you couldn’t help but blush looking at those love bites.

sometimes, you feel like you couldn’t even cover them with makeup because you also wanted to proudly show the world that you’re felix’s.

he’s yours as much as you’re his.

and you’ll always crave more and more.

———————————・❥・———————————

"relax angel, let me take care of you."

"are these the panties i bought you? fuck, they look so sexy."

"you always take me so well."

"you're dripping honey, did i get you this wet?"

"im so proud of you, you did so well."

"breathe baby, i've got you."

"i-i wont last long if you keep looking at me like that."

"you taste so sweet, angel."

"getting tired? let me help you sweetheart."

"keep the dress on, i want to fuck you while you're wearing it."

"if you want me to beg for you, i will."

"turn your brain off sweetheart, focus on me."

"does this feel good?"

"slow down, baby, oh shit, i'm cumming."

"don't hide your moans, i want to hear everything."

"lay back, i want to make you feel good."

"d-dont stop, please, im so close."

"tell me what you need baby, i'll give it to you."

"keep my rings on? naughty thing."

"i missed you so much."

His nails scraped against your scalp as he tightened his grip in your hair tugging sharply at the roots, your makeup was already ruined your eyeliner tracking dark smears down your cheeks with each tear that leaked from your eyes, but Felix didn't care.

"That's it. Fuck I love it when you choke on it" he growled huskily his hooded eyes staring down at you. Saliva covered your chin as he fucked your throat mercilessly. You gurgled around his length as you tried to swallow only causing another loud moan to fall from his angelic lips. You knees were aching from the hard wooden floor beneath you and your could feel your throat getting rawer with each thrust of his hips forcing his thick heavy cock further into you but your mind was going blank every time he spoke to you with the promise of what he had in store for you.

"I should just blow this all over your face, make you look like the filthy slut you are." He ground out pulling your hair again until it hurts the sharp pain making you gasp around him letting him choke you once again your gagging making him laugh darkly. "My dirty little slut."

You could feel him swell slightly on your tongue before he pulled his cock from your mouth holding you tightly in place as thick ropes of his seed painted your face and chest while you heaved for breath. Watching with a shadow covered smirk as it dripped thickly from your chin onto your lace covered breasts.

"Get on your knees" he ordered deeply his voice like smoke in the dimly lit room. You did as you were told moving onto the couch and pushing your arse in the air the wetness that almost dripped from you cooling against your skin in the open air.

"Look how wet you got from just sucking my dick." he teased his hand coming down hard against your left cheek making you yelp into the quiet room. He soothed the stinging skin for a moment before your eyes widened, and your jaw went slack with a silent scream from him sheathing himself in you completely the flush tip of his cock hitting your cervix. The stretch felt like you were being split open but he gave you no time to adjust before he started snapping his hips viciously against yours, burying his cock as deeply inside you as he could. The smack of skin and your whimpers creating a rhythm that made him push you further. Grabbing your hair again he pulled you up, your back against his chest, the change of angle making you cry out in pleasure as he continued thrusting into you as though you were nothing more than a toy for him to defile. Your head spun as he forced you to take him deeper still your whole body giving in to his every whim.

"Felix. Fuck. Felix" you sobbed your whole body tightening as heat began to spread through you setting your nerves alight. His lips pressed against the side of your throat, your body feeling like it was almost vibrating before your walls tightened around him and your body convulsed in exquisite pleasure.

"That's it my little one." He groaned against your skin before biting down on your shoulder his teeth almost breaking skin as you came again your eyes rolling back in your head as Felix licked and sucked at the mark he had made on you, holding your now almost limp frame in place as he chased his high his hips stuttering as he filled you with his hot seed before letting you flop forward onto the cushions. His hands moving to rub your lower back and thighs. "I love it when you let me use you."

a/n:

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks @enhacolor

Han Jisung

Felix

Seungmin

Jeongin

Taglist: @moonlightndaydreams @jiohsolovely @bethanysnow @kaiyaba @rxosies @turtledove824 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @dejacircus @lezleeferguson-120

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

you knocked once.

the door opened before your knuckles even pulled back.

and there he was.

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

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

you smiled so fast it hurt. “hi.”

and then you kissed him.

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

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

“you saw me yesterday.”

“and?”

felix grinned. “i missed you too.”

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

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

but you weren’t mad about it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

a voice.

muffled, but sharp. coming from the living room.

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

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

there was a pause. a sharp sigh.

then, “alright. goodbye.”

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

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

you raised an eyebrow. “you good?”

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

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

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

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

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

her?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“sorry,” you teased.

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

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

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

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

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

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

felix’s fingers slipped between yours.

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

shall we?

you smiled, breath curling in the cold air. 

“we shall.”

clink.

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

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

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

and maybe it was the wine.

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

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

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

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

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

“felix,” you said quietly.

he looked up instantly.

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

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

you hesitated. “does it bother you?”

his expression shifted—barely. 

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

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

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

there. you said it.

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

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

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

felix didn’t speak.

his thumb stilled.

and your heart sank just a little.

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

felix stayed silent.

too silent.

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

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

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

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

“y/n.”

“mhm?”

his eyes searched yours. then finally—

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

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

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

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

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

your heart stumbled. “what?”

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

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

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

“or you.” felix added.

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

felix still didn’t flinch.

he just watched you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

felix tilted his head. “wanna bet?”

the word made something stutter in your chest.

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

your heart skipped. “what kind of bet?”

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

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

you stared. “and if he doesn’t?”

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

your brow creased. “which is…?”

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

“to fuck him.”

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

you went silent.

felix watched you. not smug. just certain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you swallowed.

hard.

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

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

“seeing you happy.”

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

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

felix didn’t answer right away.

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

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

you did.

“i trust you,” he said. “so much.”

your throat tightened.

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

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

you really loved him.

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

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

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

“i know,” he said. “i love you too.”

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

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

a soft clink echoed between you.

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

exactly like the two of them.

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

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

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

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

you had three days to get seungmin to crack.

three days to find out if felix was right.

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

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

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

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

“dead,” he muttered.

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

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

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

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

he smiled. “that’ll do.”

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

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

“you ready?” he asked, voice low.

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

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

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

you looked at him. 

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

you nodded. “yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

the recording studio.

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

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

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

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

the second he saw you, his entire body stilled.

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

you smiled. cheeky. 

“hi, seungmin.”

he stared at you like you were a walking hazard.

“what do you want?”

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

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

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

“does he know you’re here?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the words were clipped, automatic, like muscle memory.

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

but you didn’t bite.

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

he paused.

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

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

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

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

you smiled. “wanna play it for me?”

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

you listened. 

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

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

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

you laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you blinked. “what eyes?”

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

“the ones you give felix,” he said.

your lips parted slightly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then you leaned forward.

just a little.

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

but it was enough to make him still.

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

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

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

seungmin smiled. a little too calm.

he reached out and took your wrist. 

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

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

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

seungmin didn’t flinch.

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

he just nodded. once. small.

“i know,” he said simply.

you froze.

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

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

and then he turned away.

“i think you should leave, y/n.”

the words landed like cold water.

your chest pulled tight. “what?”

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

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

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

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

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

“i’ll see you tomorrow, seungmin.”

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

the next day came slower than it should have.

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

maybe he really won’t crack.

it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

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

it wouldn’t hurt. not really..

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

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

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

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

your heart jumped. immediate.

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

then—

“y/n?”

his voice.

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

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

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

“you’re here,” he said flatly.

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

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

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

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

“…are you okay?” you asked.

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

“no.”

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

he didn’t do honest.

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

“no.”

okay, so not that honest.

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

and sure enough, a few seconds later:

“am i manipulative?” he asked, bluntly. 

you hesitated. “i… don’t think so?”

he didn’t look convinced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

he was always so composed. always in control.

but now?

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

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

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

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

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

his jaw twitched. 

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

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

he’s going to crack tonight.

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

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

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

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

“then show me.”

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

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

but it did.

you were doing something to him.

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

then back up.

he was going to kiss you.

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

he stopped.

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

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

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

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

so you moved.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you blinked.

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

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

“you won’t?”

he shook his head, gaze steady. “no.”

then, softer—warning:

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

you were fine with that.

you had one night left.

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

you didn’t care about the bet anymore.

you hadn’t for a while.

you wanted seungmin to crack.

tonight was your last shot.

this time, you went straight to the dorm.

you knocked once.

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

the door creaked open.

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

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

“felix isn’t here,” he said flatly.

you didn’t answer right away.

he knew what this was.

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

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

you didn’t move.

then, without looking away, he stepped back.

you stepped in.

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

“y/n.”

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

“yeah?”

seungmin didn’t answer right away.

“does felix know you’re here?”

the same question as last time.

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

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

you froze.

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

you exhaled, voice small. “no.”

seungmin didn’t move. his jaw clenched.

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

“right,” he muttered.

and then he reached for his phone.

you reacted instantly.

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

“wait.”

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

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

your fingers curled around his wrist, tight.

“i love felix,” you said suddenly.

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

you didn’t either.

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

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

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

seungmin didn’t flinch.

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

you were close now. 

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

his breath hitched.

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

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

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

then he stepped toward you.

once.

twice.

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

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

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

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

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

because seungmin had cracked.

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

you’d broken him.

and now he was right in front of you.

towering.

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

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

you smiled, just enough to sting.

“manipulative?”

that broke something.

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

you’d done it.

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

him, like this.

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

felix got you what you wanted. you loved felix. 

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

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

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

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

his eyes lifted. sharpened.

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

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

you pushed anyway.

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

“shut the hell up.”

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

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

he twisted your hair tighter. you whimpered.

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

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

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

he didn’t say a word.

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

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

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

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

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

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

he exhaled a laugh, mean and quiet.

“that’s what i thought.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

and then you were moving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

his lips quirked into something wicked. “yeah?”

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

your mouth went dry.

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

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

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

your breath hitched.

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

long. hard. already leaking at the tip.

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

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

you slid down between his legs.

he blinked. “what are you—”

you didn’t answer.

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

his whole body flinched.

“shit—”

you smirked against him.

and then took him into your mouth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you didn’t. you couldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you didn’t.

you swallowed. every drop.

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

seungmin’s breath hitched.

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

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

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

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

then lower.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nodded, fast. “please.”

he raised a brow. “please what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

seungmin froze.

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

“fuck,” he whispered, sharp and guttural.

and then felix stepped into the room.

he stopped dead.

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

“hi,” you breathed, syrupy, warm.

felix stared.

not at you.

at seungmin.

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

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

seungmin’s mouth opened—but nothing came out.

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

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

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

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

seungmin’s fists clenched in the blanket.

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

seungmin’s eyes finally dropped to your face.

and something in them changed.

because he saw it.

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

he blinked once. slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

that did it.

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

slightly. just once.

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

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

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

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

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

that was it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

above you, felix groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

felix stepped closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“my goodness, angel,” he whispered.

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

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

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

the sheets were still warm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you okay?” he murmured against your skin. 

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

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

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

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

felix blinked. “huh?”

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

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

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

his brows shot up.

“you win.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“felix.”

“hmm?”

“you are so annoying.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

of course he was up.

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

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

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

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

you stepped forward. slowly.

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

felix didn’t even hesitate. “mine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N!” your brother calls, grinning as he waves you over. “Finally here!”

“Miss me?” you tease, dropping your suitcase and hugging him. He laughs, ruffling your hair like he always does. “Of course. Now, meet everyone!”

And then you see him.

Hyunjin.

Leaning casually against the wall, phone in hand, he looks the same as ever—at least at first glance. But when his eyes land on you, something subtle shifts. His gaze lingers just a second too long, and there’s a sharpness there that makes you suddenly aware of the way your hair falls over your shoulders, the slight curve of your waist, the low cut top you didn’t think much of wearing tonight.

“You’ve changed,” he says quietly, almost like he’s testing you.

“Really?” you reply, raising an eyebrow. “I would’ve thought you stayed the same.”

He smirks, tilting his head slightly. “Maybe. You always did like to talk too much.” His eyes flick to your lips for a heartbeat before meeting yours again.

The party buzzes around you, but somehow the two of you exist in a bubble. Every time he passes, there’s a brush of hands, a slight touch on the arm. Nothing that could be noticed by anyone else, and yet… you feel it.

You catch him watching once, when you laugh at your brother’s terrible joke. His jaw tightens slightly, and he looks away, pretending to be occupied with something else. But you notice. You always notice. And you can’t help the faint smirk that tugs at your lips.

“Careful,” he mutters when your fingers graze his as you reach for the last slice of pizza. “You might get yourself into trouble.”

You freeze just for a second, heart fluttering, before shrugging nonchalantly. Maybe it’s the summer air, maybe the nostalgia, but something about him tonight feels different. Sharper, aware, charged.

The night drifts on with quiet sparks. Sidelong glances. Light touches. Shared laughter that feels like a secret. Every time you think he’s not looking, you realize he is. And when you finally step away to grab a drink, you can almost feel his gaze following you—quiet, intense, lingering.

⸻

It doesn’t take long for the pattern to settle in. Every time Hyunjin comes by your brother’s apartment, you’re there. Sometimes lounging on the couch with a book, sometimes making a drink in the kitchen, sometimes just standing in the hallway scrolling through your phone. And every time, he notices.

Not in a loud, obvious way—no, his attention is quieter than that. A brush of his knee against yours as he sits, a finger lingering just a second too long when he hands you the popcorn, a lean closer when he’s showing something on his phone, too close for any reasonable conversation. Every subtle touch, every slightly charged glance, sets your nerves on fire.

You roll your eyes at him more than once when he teases you about the way you’ve “grown up” since leaving for college, pretending you’re annoyed, but secretly, you like the way he keeps looking. The way his gaze flickers across your arms, your collarbone, the curve of your waist when you bend for something on the counter. There’s a heat there that wasn’t quite there before—something you can feel in the pit of your stomach every time your eyes meet.

“You’ve got to stop rolling your eyes like that,” he says one evening, voice low, almost casual, but with a weight behind it that makes your skin tingle. “It’s… distracting.”

You smirk. “Oh really? Me, distracting you? That would never happen.”

His hand brushes yours as he reaches for the popcorn, and it’s too light to call accidental. You feel it—a spark, a jolt, a pulse of something electric—and it makes your chest tighten without warning. He’s pretending to be casual, leaning back on the couch with a grin that doesn’t quite mask the tension in his shoulders, the way he shifts slightly closer.

It’s a game now. A quiet war of glances, touches, and words that walk right up to the line that shouldn’t be crossed. You tease him and he teases back. Your foot brushes against his under the table—he doesn’t pull away. Your elbow nudges him as you reach for your drink—he doesn’t react beyond a faint smirk. Every moment is loaded, heavy with something unsaid, something dangerous, and both of you know it.

⸻

The bass from the speakers rattles the walls, laughter spilling into every corner of the crowded house. You’re perched on the arm of a couch, red plastic cup in hand, cheeks warm from just enough alcohol to make your skin buzz but not enough to cloud your judgment. You’re not drunk—just tipsy, light enough to laugh easily, bold enough to stay longer than you meant to.

Still, when the night starts winding down and you feel the heaviness creeping into your bones, you know it’s not a good idea to drive. With a sigh, you slip into the hallway, scrolling through your contacts until your brother’s name pops up.

“Pick up, pick up…” you murmur, listening to the ring. No answer. You try again. Straight to voicemail this time.

“Great.” You lean back against the wall, glaring at your phone. The thought of calling an uber crosses your mind, but you hesitate. You don’t love the idea of sitting alone in a stranger’s car this late.

Your thumb hovers before you finally tap another name. Hyunjin.

You almost hope he won’t answer, but he picks up on the second ring.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is alert, serious, like he thought it might be an emergency.

You hesitate. “I just… need a ride. Your best friend’s a terrible brother, apparently.”

There’s a pause, a rustle, and then a sharp sigh. “Text me the address. I’ll be there soon.”

When you step out into the cool night air, the street is quiet except for the muffled thump of music behind you. Hyunjin’s car pulls up, headlights cutting through the dark, sleek and familiar. He leans over to push open the passenger door, his jaw tight as he looks you over.

“You’re fine?” he asks immediately, eyes scanning you like he’s checking for damage.

You roll your eyes as you slide into the seat. “Relax. I’m not wasted. Just… tipsy.”

“That’s not fine,” he mutters, pulling back onto the road. His knuckles tighten around the steering wheel. “You shouldn’t be out here like this.”

“Like what?” you challenge, watching the way his jaw flexes. “I said I’m fine. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

His grip on the wheel tightens even more. “Doesn’t matter. You’re still too much of a risk. Anything could’ve happened.”

You smirk, leaning your head against the seat, just tipsy enough to let your words slip out softer, braver. “What, you worried about me, Hyunjin?”

His eyes flick to you for half a second before focusing back on the road. “Someone has to.”

You laugh quietly, biting your lip. “You sound just like my brother.”

That makes his jaw clench. His voice drops lower, rougher. “I’m not your brother.”

The car feels smaller suddenly, tighter, like the air itself is pressing down on you. You shift in your seat, acutely aware of how close his hand is to the gearshift, of how easily yours could brush against it. The tension is sharp now, alive, buzzing in the silence between his words.

And when you lean just slightly closer, testing him, you see the way his throat works as he swallows hard, eyes fixed firmly on the road.

The silence in the car stretches, only broken by the hum of the engine and the faint sound of your breathing. You’re sobering up with every passing mile, the warm haze from earlier thinning out until all that’s left is the heavy awareness of him. His hands on the wheel, knuckles pale from gripping too tightly. The occasional glance he shoots your way, sharp, quick, like he doesn’t trust himself to look too long.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” you murmur finally, turning your head toward him.

He exhales through his nose, almost a laugh but not quite. “Dramatic? You called me because your brother wouldn’t answer. That’s not dramatic, that’s… irresponsible.”

You scoff, a little sharper than you intended. “I wasn’t about to get behind the wheel. I knew better. I called you because—” You stop, suddenly aware of what you’re admitting.

“Because what?” His voice is low, tight.

You bite the inside of your cheek, smirking faintly to cover it. “Because I knew you’d come.”

The car feels even smaller after that. His jaw flexes, his hands gripping the wheel tighter. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters.

“Why not?” you ask softly, leaning against the headrest, eyes locked on him. “It’s true.”

The muscle in his cheek twitches. He doesn’t answer. He just drives, every line of his body tense, restrained, like he’s holding something back.

⸻

By the time you pull up to the apartment, your head is clear. You’re barely even tipsy anymore. Just awake, alive, humming with something that has nothing to do with alcohol.

Hyunjin kills the engine. Neither of you move.

“You gonna keep lecturing me,” you say finally, “or actually walk me inside?”

That earns you a low laugh, rough around the edges. “You’re impossible.”

You push the door open yourself, throwing him a glance over your shoulder. “And yet you came when I called.”

The apartment is quiet when you step inside. Too quiet. You kick off your shoes and glance toward the hallway. No lights on. No sound of your brother moving around.

“Where is he?” you ask, frowning.

“Texted him on the way here,” Hyunjin says, tossing his keys on the counter. His voice is clipped, controlled. “Said he’s crashing at a friend’s tonight. Didn’t want to wake you.”

You cross the room toward the kitchen, tugging at the hem of your unnecessarily short shorts that barely cover half your ass. You’re aware of his eyes on you, burning into your back. You bend to grab a glass from the lower cabinet, and when you straighten, you catch it—his jaw tight, eyes dark, shoulders rigid like he’s physically restraining himself.

“What?” you ask, feigning innocence, leaning casually against the counter with the glass in hand.

“Nothing.” His voice is sharp, but his gaze lingers.

You tilt your head, smirking just enough to provoke him. “You’re staring.”

“Maybe you want me to,” he says before he can stop himself.

The words hang in the air, heavy, electric.

You step closer, your glass abandoned on the counter. “And if I do?”

That’s what breaks him.

In a few strides, he’s in front of you, pressing you back against the wall, his hands braced on either side of your head. His voice is low, strained, every word ground out between clenched teeth.

“You have no idea what you’re doing to me, do you?”

Your breath catches, chest heaving against his. You don’t answer—can’t, not with the way his eyes bore into yours, dark and hungry.

And then his mouth crashes onto yours.

The kiss is rough, desperate, like all the weeks of lingering glances and fleeting touches have finally snapped into something neither of you can control anymore. His hands grip your waist, pulling you flush against him, and your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging, gasping against his lips.

⸻

“Fuck,” he breathes against your lips, breaking away just long enough to rest his forehead against yours, his chest rising and falling in ragged rhythm. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted—”

“Show me,” you whisper, your voice trembling but sure.

That’s all it takes. His mouth is back on yours, more urgent this time, his hands sliding lower until they grip the back of your thighs. Without warning, he lifts you, pressing you hard against the wall. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, his hips pinning you there, and the friction makes you whimper against his mouth.

His lips trail down your jaw, then to your throat, open-mouthed kisses and sharp nips that leave heat blooming across your skin. You tilt your head back, panting, clutching his shoulders as he drags his teeth lightly over the curve of your neck.

“Hyunjin—” your voice cracks on his name, and that only seems to drive him further.

One hand slides under your shirt, palm hot against your stomach, fingers teasing the edge of your bra. But instead of going higher, he drags his hand lower, slipping past the waistband of your shorts.

You jolt, breath catching, but his eyes are on you now—dark, searching, waiting.

“Tell me to stop,” he says, voice raw, strained like he’s hanging on by a thread.

You shake your head, clutching him tighter. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

His lips curl into the faintest smirk before he dips his hand lower, sliding beneath your panties. His fingers find your heat instantly, and he exhales sharply against your neck.

“Fuck… you’re soaked already,” he mutters, his tone part disbelief, part victory. His fingers drag slowly through your folds, teasing, deliberate, and your hips buck helplessly against his hand.

You bury your face against his shoulder, muffling the whine that slips out when his fingertip circles your clit. He groans at the sound, his lips pressing hot and desperate against your ear.

“Don’t hide from me. Let me hear you.”

The slow, steady circles grow tighter, more insistent, until your thighs are trembling around his waist. He shifts his hips, pressing you harder into the wall as his fingers slide lower again, one pushing into you with agonizing slowness.

Your breath stutters. “Oh—fuck—”

He groans at the way you squeeze around him, his lips dragging down your throat as his finger curls inside you. He starts a rhythm—slow thrusts, curling deeper each time—before adding a second, stretching you, filling you. The burn is delicious, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fucks his fingers into you, rough and unrelenting.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he growls against your skin, his pace quickening, his palm grinding against your clit with every thrust.

Your moans spill out freely now, the sound echoing in the quiet apartment. Your hips grind down against his hand, chasing the friction, the pressure building tighter and tighter inside you. He feels it—the way your walls flutter around his fingers, the way your breaths come faster, sharper.

“Don’t hold back—cum for me.” He whispers, voice almost reverent now, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

The words undo you. The rhythm of his fingers, the relentless drag against your clit, the filthy encouragement in his voice—it all snaps at once.

Your back arches against the wall, legs tightening around his waist as the orgasm rips through you, wave after wave crashing, leaving you breathless, trembling, crying out his name.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it, fingers curling deep until you’re gasping, shaking in his hold, every nerve alight with overstimulation. His mouth is everywhere—your throat, your jaw, your lips—devouring your sounds as if he can’t get enough.

When you finally slump against him, boneless, he pulls his fingers from you slowly, almost reluctantly, his chest heaving against yours. He kisses you softer this time, gentle, reverent, but the hunger in his eyes hasn’t faded.

“Do you get it now?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice wrecked. “What you do to me?”

You can only nod, still trembling in his arms.

⸻

Before you can catch your breath, he carries you away from the wall. You gasp, clinging to his shoulders, your head falling against his chest as he strides down the hall toward your temporary bedroom. His heartbeat thunders under your ear, matching the pounding in your veins.

The door clicks shut behind him with a firm nudge of his foot. He lays you gently on the mattress, but the way his hands linger at your sides proves how hard it is for him to let go.

Hyunjin’s eyes roam over you, still in your little shorts and crop top, the clothes rumpled and damp with sweat from earlier. His jaw tightens. He drags his thumb slowly along the waistband of your shorts, gaze flicking up to your face.

“Take these off,” he murmurs. Then, softer, “Or do you want me to?”

Your lips part, breath caught, and instead of answering, you lift your hips in invitation.

The effect on him is instant. His jaw flexes, his throat working as he swallows hard. “Fuck.” The curse is hoarse, strangled. Then his fingers are hooked in your shorts, tugging them down inch by inch, his knuckles dragging along your bare thighs as though he’s savoring every millimeter of revealed skin.

By the time the denim slides past your knees, his breath has turned uneven. He peels the fabric away completely and tosses it aside, only to pause when he sees how soaked you are through your panties.

His thumb presses against it, slow, deliberate. “You’re still so fucking wet.” His voice is wrecked, low with awe. His eyes flick up, holding your gaze as he drags that same thumb upward, circling lazily over the wet fabric covering your clit. You shiver, a whimper escaping before you can bite it back.

The sound sets him off. He drops to his knees at the edge of the bed without hesitation. “Spread your legs for me.”

When you obey, his hands slide up your thighs, gripping firmly, thumbs rubbing soft circles against your skin like he’s trying to soothe you before tearing you apart. He leans down, lips brushing over your inner knee, pressing open-mouthed kisses higher and higher. Each kiss leaves his mouth warmer, wetter, closer to where you need him.

By the time his breath ghosts over your panties, you’re trembling. He hooks a finger under the thin fabric and pushes it aside, exhaling sharply when your slick folds glisten in the dim light.

“Fuck…” His voice breaks.

The first lick is slow, deliberate, his tongue dragging from your entrance to your clit in one long stroke. You gasp, back arching, and he groans against you, as if your taste alone is enough to undo him. He tugs your underwear all the way off without even looking, tossing it aside carelessly before diving back in. Long, sweeping licks. Teasing flicks of his tongue. Circling your clit, then pulling back just when you start to lose yourself. His hands clamp on your thighs, spreading you wider, keeping you still no matter how you squirm.

“Hyunjin—” Your voice cracks on his name, desperate.

He looks up, lips glistening, eyes dark and blown wide. “Say what you want.”

“Please,” you gasp, hips twitching under the steady pressure of his tongue. “Don’t stop.”

His smirk is sinful.

Then he gives you everything. Tongue pressing harder, faster, sucking at your clit with obscene, wet sounds that fill the room. One of his hands leaves your thigh to slip between your folds, two fingers sliding inside you with ease, curling in perfect rhythm to his mouth.

The pressure builds unbearably. Your thighs shake, your breath breaks into sobs of pleasure. He doesn’t let up, growling into you like a man possessed.

“Hyunjin—I—” The words dissolve as the tension snaps, pleasure tearing through you in hot waves. Your back arches, a scream rips free, and then your body jerks violently as wetness gushes out, spilling onto his mouth, his chin, dripping down his wrist.

You choke on a moan, mortified, dazed, but Hyunjin only groans louder, drinking it in, swallowing against you like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. He holds you down with both hands when you try to pull away, overstimulated, refusing to let you go until every spasm runs its course.

Finally, you collapse against the pillows, gasping, chest heaving. He pulls back slowly, lips and chin glistening, his jaw damp with you.

For a long moment he just stares, chest rising and falling, eyes wide with shock. “You—” His laugh is stunned, breathless. “You just fucking squirted.”

Your face burns hot with embarrassment. “I— I didn’t mean—”

“Don’t.” His voice cuts in, low and sharp. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand, then drags the same hand up your trembling thigh, smearing your slick against your skin. His eyes are wild, dark, hungry. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath when he lowers his head again, lips ghosting over your thigh.

“Now…” His tongue flicks against your clit, making your whole body jolt. His smirk is dangerous. “I want to see you do it again.”

Before you can protest, his mouth seals back over you, hungrier than before. His tongue is relentless, his fingers diving back in, curling, pressing hard against that spot inside you with ruthless precision.

Your eyes roll back, the overstimulation sending sparks through every nerve, your thighs clamping around his head. He pries them apart with a growl, burying himself deeper.

You’re crying out, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as he works you mercilessly, building you right back up. The second orgasm rips through you harder, wetter, until you’re gushing again, the sheets beneath you soaked, Hyunjin’s hair dripping.

When he finally pulls back, gasping for air, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then licks his fingers clean slowly, eyes locked on yours. His smirk is satisfied, impressed, but there’s still fire burning hot behind it.

⸻

Hyunjin is still kneeling between your thighs, his face and jaw wet with you, his hair clinging to his cheeks. His chest rises and falls hard, like he’s been holding himself back for hours, maybe years.

And then his mouth curves into a grin that’s more wicked than anything you’ve ever seen.

“Such a mess,” he mutters, dragging his fingers through the aftermath between your legs, smearing it up your folds before pushing two fingers back inside you without warning. You gasp, clenching, and he watches every twitch of your body with dark, hungry eyes. “I could spend all night making you come until you can’t breathe… but fuck, baby, I need to be inside you.”

Your breath stutters. “Hyunjin—”

He stands, tugging his shirt off in one swift motion, dropping it carelessly to the floor. His body is lean but defined, muscles shifting as he unbuttons his jeans, pushes them down his hips. You can’t look away.

And then you see it.

His cock springs free, hard, flushed, long, and thick enough that your thighs press together instinctively at the thought of taking him. A single bead of precum drips from the swollen head, sliding down the veiny length.

Your lips part, a shaky breath escaping. He smirks at your expression, wrapping a hand around himself and stroking slowly, deliberately, as though showing you exactly what you’re about to get.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he warns, voice low, rough. “You’ll make me lose it before I’m even inside you.”

He climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his arms, his cock dragging against your slick folds, smearing precum across your clit. You whimper, hips jerking up.

Hyunjin’s breath shudders out. He catches your face in one hand, thumb stroking your cheek. “You sure you want this?”

Your answer is immediate. “Yes. God, yes.”

That’s all he needs.

With a groan, he lines himself up and pushes in slowly, inch by inch. The stretch burns at first, but it’s the kind of ache that makes your toes curl, your nails claw at his shoulders. He bites down on a curse, forehead pressing to yours, muscles trembling as he sinks deeper.

“Fuck— you’re so tight,” he grits out, voice wrecked. “Gripping me like you were made for this.”

He stills after bottoming out, panting, letting you adjust, his thumb rubbing soft circles against your hip. “Tell me when,” he murmurs, though his voice is strained, like holding back is killing him.

You nod frantically, body already clenching around him. “Move— please.”

The first thrust is slow, deliberate, dragging his cock almost all the way out before slamming back in, making your whole body jolt. Your head falls back against the pillows, a broken moan tearing from your throat.

“Fuck, baby,” Hyunjin growls, finding a rhythm — deep, hard strokes that make the bed creak, his hips snapping into yours with force. “You feel so fucking good around me. Can’t believe your brother ever let me near you.”

The thought is sinful, forbidden, only making the heat coil tighter inside you.

You cling to him, nails digging into his back, moans spilling uncontrollably. Every thrust drags another cry from your lips. You can’t think, can’t breathe — only feel.

“Look at you,” he pants, his grin feral. “Already cock-drunk, aren’t you? Can’t even form words.”

He’s right — your voice is gone, reduced to breathless whimpers, your eyes rolling back when he slams in at a new angle that makes your vision spark.

He leans close, lips brushing your ear, his voice a low, filthy whisper. “Careful, baby… I might just fuck you until I knock you up. Fill you so deep you’ll be dripping with me for days.”

The words punch straight through you, making your walls clench violently around him.

“Oh, you like that?” His laugh is breathless, cocky. He thrusts harder, faster, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. “Gonna fuck you full until you’re begging me not to stop.”

Your orgasm builds sharp and fast, the pressure unbearable. His hand slides down, thumb pressing tight circles over your clit in time with his thrusts. The combination is devastating — his cock filling you, stretching you, his thumb rubbing your clit just right.

You break. The orgasm rips through you, white-hot, your body convulsing, tears spilling from the intensity. You scream his name, clinging to him like you’ll fall apart otherwise.

Hyunjin curses loudly, hips stuttering. “Fuck—fuck— I’m gonna—”

With one final thrust, he slams deep, buried to the hilt, and his release floods into you hot and endless. His cock twitches inside you as he groans into your neck, filling you until you can feel it spill out around him.

The warmth overflows, seeping between your thighs, dripping onto the sheets. He stays inside you, grinding shallowly, making sure it’s buried deep.

When he finally lifts his head, sweat dripping down his temple, his smirk is lazy, satisfied, ruined.

⸻

For a moment, there’s only sound — both of you panting, the wet pulse of your heartbeat still echoing in your ears. The air is heavy with sweat and sex. His hair brushes your face, damp and wild, strands sticking to his flushed skin.

Then, carefully, he pulls out.

You whimper at the empty stretch, your walls fluttering, slick and cum spilling hot down your thighs. Hyunjin looks down at the mess with a ragged breath, but instead of diving back in, his eyes soften. His thumb drags gently along your hipbone, a soothing touch against the chaos he just put you through.

“Shit…” His voice is hoarse, still wrecked from the way he moaned in your ear minutes ago. “Didn’t mean to go that hard.”

Your lips twitch in something between a smile and a whimper. “Didn’t hear me complaining.”

His low laugh vibrates against your chest as he kisses your collarbone, featherlight compared to the bruising marks he left earlier. “You’re unreal.”

With slow hands, he shifts away, rummaging around until he finds a clean towel. He comes back and sits between your legs, his expression focused, careful. You flinch at the first dab of the warm cloth against your overstimulated core, but his hand presses softly against your thigh.

“Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice like silk now, soothing. “Just cleaning you up.”

He takes his time, wiping gently, his touch tender in stark contrast to the raw way he just fucked you. Every few strokes he glances up at your face, checking your breathing, your eyes, like he’s making sure you’re still with him.

When he finishes, he tosses the towel aside and leans down, pressing a kiss just above your mound, reverent. “So fucking perfect.”

Hyunjin crawls back up the bed and pulls you into his chest, wrapping you in strong arms. His heart is still racing, pounding against your ear as he tucks you under his chin. He smells of sweat and sex and his cologne, warm and dizzying all at once.

“You okay?” he asks after a long moment, his lips brushing your hairline.

You hum, sinking into him, your body boneless. “Better than okay.”

His chuckle rumbles low in his chest, and he squeezes you tighter. “Good. Because I don’t think I can let you out of my arms now.”

TYSM for reading!!

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