#flop

Chapter 1: Bang Chan – "Discipline" Trope: Slow burn, tension snapping, “I shouldn’t want this” Vibe: Low lights, sweat, dominance barely contained

_

You’d been living with the boys for a month.

Long enough to settle in. Long enough to know who stole the last slice of pizza (Jisung). And definitely long enough to know Chan was the most dangerous one of them all.

Not because he was loud. Not because he flirted.

But because he didn’t.

Chan was… quiet. Controlled. He watched. Not creepily—but like he was waiting. Studying. Calculating.

And when you caught him watching? He never looked away.

Tonight, the house was loud. A movie playing downstairs. Laughter, yelling, Jisung probably screaming about snacks again.

You wandered into the home gym after everyone else got distracted. You didn’t mean to interrupt. But there he was—Chan.

Shirtless. Sweaty. Breathing hard. Tank top discarded, towel slung over his shoulder, muscles flexing with every pull of the resistance bands.

He saw you immediately.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t say hi.

Just kept going, glancing your way every few reps, until finally—

“Wanna try?” His voice low, soft.

You blinked. “Try?”

He dropped the band. “Come here.”

You stepped closer.

Too close, maybe.

He pulled another band from the wall, stepped behind you, and handed it over your shoulder.

“Like this,” he murmured. “Pull. Slow.”

You did.

His hand brushed your arm, adjusting. Then lower. Your hip. Steadying you.

“Not bad,” he said, voice thick. “But you’re shaking.”

You laughed nervously. “It’s heavier than it looks.”

“Mm,” he hummed. “You sure it’s the band?”

You swallowed.

His breath was warm on your neck now. His hand stayed at your waist, not leaving. Not moving. Just claiming.

“You keep teasing them,” he said suddenly.

You froze. “Who?”

“The boys.”

Your lips parted.

Chan’s eyes met yours in the mirror. “You know what you’re doing. Walking around in those tiny shorts. Sitting on their laps. Pretending you don’t see how they look at you.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” he interrupted gently. “And they’re going to snap.”

You turned. He didn’t move.

“You think I’m better?” he asked, gaze dropping to your lips. “You think I’m safer?”

He leaned in, so close your breath caught.

“I’m the worst one, sweetheart.”

Your heartbeat kicked up, wild and messy.

“Then why haven’t you done anything?” you whispered. “If you’re so bad?”

He stared for a long, quiet second.

Then his hand slid down your waist, gripping your hip.

“I’m trying to be good,” he said.

And then he backed away.

Just like that.

Leaving you breathless, throbbing, wanting.

“Shower’s free,” he added, voice back to calm. “Use it before someone else steals it.”

And then he walked out.

Chapter 2: Lee Know – “Mine Before The Others” Trope: Possessive tension, soft dom/mean dom combo, quiet jealousy Setting: Late-night in the kitchen—just you, him, and the things unsaid

_

It was 2:37 a.m. when you padded into the kitchen, sleepy-eyed and craving something sweet.

You didn’t expect anyone else to be up.

But there he was—Minho.

Back against the counter, arms crossed, shirt hanging loose off one shoulder. Hair messy. Eyes sharp.

“Midnight snack?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded, a little startled. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He watched you silently as you opened a cabinet. Too aware of how small your tank top was. Too aware of his gaze dragging over your bare legs.

“You should be more careful,” he murmured suddenly.

You turned. “What?”

“Walking around the house like that. Half-dressed.” His tone wasn’t teasing. It was dark. “The others are starting to look at you differently.”

“Is that so?” you asked, trying to stay light.

He didn’t smile.

“I don’t like sharing,” he said quietly.

You blinked. “Sharing what?”

Minho pushed off the counter and stepped in close—close enough that your back hit the edge of the island behind you.

“You think this is funny? Teasing them? Letting Chan touch you like he’s got some kind of claim?”

Your breath caught.

“Minho—”

“You were mine first.” His voice cracked like thunder in a whisper. “Before this house. Before them.”

The air shifted. The truth hit heavy.

You’d kissed Minho months ago. Drunken. Stupid. And never spoke about it again.

But he hadn’t forgotten.

“You wanna be touched?” he asked, eyes burning into yours. “You want someone to ruin you?”

Your thighs clenched.

His fingers brushed your waist. Not gentle. Not asking.

“I’ll remind you how good I make you feel,” he whispered, lips at your ear. “So you stop playing with boys who don’t know how to keep you.”

“Minho—what if someone comes down?”

He grinned, slow and cruel. “Let them.”

And then he kissed you.

Hard.

Teeth. Tongue. All dominance. His hand slid up under your shirt, gripping your ribs, dragging you forward into his chest like he owned you.

Because in that moment—he did.

“You like the attention,” he growled between kisses. “But when you’re dripping and shaking? It’s my name you moan. Isn’t it?”

You whimpered. “Y-Yes.”

He kissed your neck, right where it would bruise.

“Good girl.”

Chapter 3: Changbin – “Say Please, Pretty Girl” Trope: Gym tension, soft dom with a possessive twist, body worship Setting: His bedroom, post-workout, heat between you building for weeks

_

You weren’t supposed to be in his room.

You’d only wandered in to return the hoodie he left on the back of the couch, still warm from his body. Still smelling like him.

You didn’t mean to try it on.

And you definitely didn’t mean to be caught in it—half-dressed, curled up on his bed—when he walked in from his workout, shirtless and glistening.

“...That mine?” he asked, breath a little uneven, towel around his neck.

You blinked up at him.

“…Maybe.”

His gaze darkened, chest rising. “You trying to kill me or something?”

You sat up, cheeks flushed. “Just cold.”

“Right,” he murmured, stepping closer. “Cold. So you decided to crawl into my bed wearing nothing but my hoodie?”

You didn’t answer.

He stopped in front of you, towering, eyes dragging over your thighs. “You know I’ve been good, right?”

You tilted your head.

“I’ve been so good,” he said, voice low, dropping to his knees in front of you. “Helping you stretch at the gym. Not touching you when you’re moaning and whining, saying everything but my name.”

“Changbin…”

“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?” His hands gripped your knees, spreading them slowly. “You think I don’t see the way you squirm when I call you baby girl in front of the others?”

Your breath caught.

He smirked.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he whispered, dragging his hands up your thighs. “But you gotta ask real nice.”

You swallowed hard. “Please.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That all you got?”

“Changbin… please touch me.”

His eyes closed for a second, like he was praying. Then his hands slid under the hoodie, fingers grazing your bare skin.

“You’re so soft,” he groaned. “So fuckin’ pretty. How did I go this long without tasting you?”

You whimpered.

He leaned in—mouth brushing your inner thigh.

“You let Chan get in your head. You let Minho mark you up.” His voice dropped. “Now it’s my turn.”

He kissed your skin, slow and possessive. “And when I’m done, you’ll be so full of me, they’ll smell it on you.”

You gasped. “Changbin—”

“Shh, baby,” he said, dragging your hips forward. “Let me take care of you.”

Chapter 4: Hyunjin – “Masterpiece” Trope: Artistic obsession, soft & sensual but possessive underneath Setting: His bedroom, candlelit, music playing, canvas untouched—because you are the muse now.

_

You always knew Hyunjin was… different.

Where the others looked at you with hunger, Hyunjin looked at you like he was starving.

Like your very existence inspired him.

And when he asked, “Can I paint you?”—you thought he meant something innocent.

He didn’t.

It was late when he pulled you into his room. The air smelled like lavender and linseed oil. His sheets were messy. His shirt was half unbuttoned. And the moment he looked at you…

It was over.

“Sit,” he said softly, pointing to the edge of his bed.

You did.

“Take this off.” He reached for the hem of your shirt, fingers gentle—like peeling back silk.

You shivered under his touch.

“I need to see you,” he whispered. “Just… let me look.”

He stepped back, eyes dragging over every inch of you like you were a piece he’d never be able to finish. His pupils were blown, lips parted, paint-stained fingers twitching at his sides.

“I’ve tried to draw you before,” he confessed, voice breathless. “But it never felt right. It was always missing something.”

You tilted your head. “What was it missing?”

He stepped closer.

“You.”

His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. “You drive me insane, you know that? Walking around this house like art come to life. Laughing with Jisung, hugging Felix, letting Seungmin rest his head in your lap like they all deserve you.”

Your breath hitched.

“They don’t.”

“Hyunjin…”

He kissed you.

And it was everything.

Slow. Desperate. Starving.

His hands moved like brushstrokes—down your neck, over your waist, gripping your thighs as if memorizing every shape, every line.

“I want to paint bruises on your hips,” he whispered, dragging his lips down your collarbone. “Mark you up in color and come. Make you mine on every canvas I touch.”

“Then do it,” you breathed. “Make me yours.”

He looked up, eyes on fire.

“Lie down.”

You obeyed.

He climbed over you, all loose limbs and trembling restraint.

“Stay still,” he whispered. “You’re perfect like this.”

And then—he reached for his paintbrush.

Not for the canvas.

For you.

He dipped it in warm, wet pigment—soft pink, like your flushed cheeks—and dragged it slowly across your bare stomach.

You gasped.

“Every inch,” he murmured. “A masterpiece.”

And when the brush dipped lower…

You realized art had never felt so intimate.

Or so filthy.

Chapter 5: Han Jisung – “Mine and Loud About It” Trope: Jealousy turns into desperation, praise kink, messy needy sex Setting: His room, after catching you laughing a little too hard at Seungmin’s jokes

_

Jisung was pacing his room when you knocked.

He opened the door like he knew it’d be you. Like he manifested it out of frustration.

You smiled, clueless. “Hey, you okay? You left kinda fast.”

He stared at you, jaw tight.

“You really like making me lose my mind, huh?” he muttered.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“That thing you do,” he snapped, shutting the door behind you. “Laughing at Seungmin’s jokes like he’s the funniest fuckin’ person alive. Leaning on him. Acting like—like he’s your favorite.”

You blinked. “I was just talking to him, Ji—”

“That’s the problem!” His voice cracked. “You talk to everyone but me. You give everyone your attention like it’s free. But when I try to flirt with you, you laugh like it’s a joke.”

Your heart stuttered.

“I’m not a joke,” he said, suddenly quiet. “I want you.”

He stepped closer.

“And if you keep pretending you don’t know that, I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.”

You swallowed hard. “Then do something about it.”

His eyes darkened.

“Don’t test me.”

You stepped forward. “Or what?”

The sound he made was somewhere between a laugh and a growl.

And then he pounced.

You were against the door in seconds, his mouth crashing into yours—messy, hungry, real. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you like you weighed nothing, grinding you against him with reckless desperation.

“Is this what you want?” he breathed, lips bruising yours. “You want me insane for you?”

You moaned.

“Because I am,” he whispered. “You make me so fucking crazy I can’t sleep. Can’t think. Can’t breathe unless you’re near me.”

He dropped you onto his bed, climbed over you, eyes wide and unhinged with need.

“You wanna make me jealous?” he panted, pulling your shirt up, lips dragging over your skin. “Fine. But just know—when I fuck you, I’m gonna be so loud, the whole house will know who you belong to.”

You whimpered, back arching. “Please, Ji—”

“Oh, now you want me?” he smirked, cocky and breathless. “Beg a little louder, baby. Make sure Seungmin hears it.”

You moaned his name again—and his mouth was everywhere.

He didn’t even give you time to catch your breath.

Your back hit the mattress, his hands already under your clothes, voice low and shaking with need.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he murmured, dragging his lips down your chest, every kiss a promise. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you. Since the moment you smiled at me like I meant something.”

Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling, and he groaned.

“You’re driving me insane,” he whispered. “Looking like that. Moaning my name like it’s the only thing you know.”

You whined as he kissed down your stomach, every breath hot against your skin. His grip was firm — not rough, just claiming.

“Look at you,” he said, voice thick with awe. “So fucking pretty. So soft. So mine.”

He looked up at you from between your thighs, pupils blown, cheeks flushed.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered. “Let me make you feel good. I’ll go slow — just how you like it.”

You nodded, breathless, and he smiled — that sweet, crooked smile that made your heart stutter.

“You’re doing so good for me,” he said as his hands roamed your thighs, gentle, worshipful. “My perfect girl. I’ll ruin you sweet, yeah? Fill your head with nothing but me.”

Every touch was tender, but every word was dirty devotion.

“You don’t need anyone else,” he whispered, voice darkening as you squirmed beneath him. “You’ve got me. Only me.”

You moaned his name again and he shuddered.

“Good girl,” he breathed, lips brushing your skin. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you.”

The praise poured from his lips like honey — warm, slow, sinful.

And even before he finished, you already knew:

Jisung wasn’t the loudest in the house for nothing.

Chapter 6: Felix – “Sweet little Movie Night” Trope: Duality king, soft dom, aftercare kink, “don’t let the others hear us” energy Setting: Movie night gone very off script in the shared living room after hours

_

You weren’t supposed to fall asleep on him.

The movie was long, the couch was cozy, and Felix had that warmth that made you melt. You’d curled into his chest without a second thought, legs tangled, his arm around you like it belonged there.

The others had disappeared hours ago. But you?

You stayed. Because Felix didn’t let go.

And now, in the soft hush of 2 a.m., you felt his fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare thigh, your body draped across his lap like it was meant to be there.

“Y’know,” he murmured, voice that sinful whisper against your temple, “if you keep squirming like that, I’m gonna think you’re doing it on purpose.”

You looked up at him—half-lidded, warm, wanting.

“Maybe I am.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, that Aussie drawl ruining you.

“You really shouldn’t tease me, angel,” he whispered, hand dipping just a little higher. “Not when everyone’s sleeping just down the hall.”

Your breath caught.

“That excite you?” he grinned, pressing his forehead to yours. “Knowing someone could walk in? That someone might see you in my lap, moaning into my neck like a needy little thing?”

You whimpered, and his eyes darkened.

“God, you’re so pretty like this,” he whispered, dragging his fingers down your side, slow and reverent. “So soft. So good for me.”

You bit your lip, back arching just a little—silent, desperate.

“You wanna be good for me, yeah?” he purred. “Be my sweet girl? My perfect baby who keeps quiet while I touch her exactly how she likes?”

You nodded, gasping—and his mouth was on yours.

Hot, deep, possessive.

His hand held the back of your head, the other still gripping your thigh. Every kiss felt like worship. Every groan felt like sin.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised, voice a growl in your ear. “But only if you ask me real nice.”

You whispered his name—again and again—and he moaned like it was the only sound he ever wanted to hear.

“Good girl,” he murmured, slipping lower, breath warm against your neck. “Just like that. Let me take care of you.”

And when your head tipped back, body trembling, legs clenched tight around his waist—

He held you through it.

Kissing your cheek, stroking your hair, whispering:

“You did so good, angel. So fuckin’ good for me.”

Chapter 7: Seungmin – “I Heard Everything” Trope: Jealousy, overheard moans, “you moan like that for everyone?” energy Setting: His room. Door locked. Eyes dark.

_

It started with silence.

You’d walked past his room, just a glass of water in hand, hoodie sleeves over your fingers, when his door opened—quiet and deliberate.

“Come here.”

You froze. Seungmin didn’t look at you. Just stepped back, giving you space to enter.

“Why?” you asked softly.

His eyes flicked to yours.

“I think you owe me something.”

You stepped in, confused, cautious. “What are you—?”

“I heard you.”

You blinked.

He shut the door.

“I heard you and Jisung the other night.”

Oh.

“Didn’t even try to keep your voice down, did you?” His voice was low. Controlled. Dangerous. “Letting him make you moan like that. So loud. So desperate.”

Your breath caught.

“You sounded wrecked.” He stepped closer. “And you didn’t even think about me once, did you?”

“Seungmin—”

“No.” His hand shot out, catching your wrist. “You’re gonna listen. You’re gonna hear how unfair that was. You let him hear you like that. And you didn’t even knock on my door after.”

“I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem,” he growled. “You didn’t think. Didn’t stop to wonder what I’d be doing. Lying there. Hard as hell. Hand around my cock. Hearing you scream his name while I had to pretend I didn’t care.”

You gasped, stunned. Staring at him.

He stared back.

“You gonna do that to me again?”

“N-No.”

“Good.”

He shoved you gently back against his bed, hovering over you now, voice like velvet-wrapped fire.

“Then make it up to me.”

You blinked. “How?”

He smirked.

“By making the exact same sounds for me.”

You whimpered.

“Yeah,” he whispered, mouth brushing yours, teasing. “Louder, if you can. Let him hear what he doesn’t get anymore.”

He kissed you then—deep and sharp-edged, hands on your waist, possessive.

“Tonight?” he breathed. “You’re not their toy.”

“You’re mine.”

Chapter 8: Jeongin – “Don't forget About Me" Trope: Sweet to savage, hidden confidence, you-thought-I-wasn’t-watching energy Setting: Practice room after hours. You stayed late. So did he. On purpose.

You thought you were alone.

The rest of the boys had gone back to the dorm hours ago. But you stayed behind—watching the mirrors flicker in the low light, curled on the floor with your water bottle, skin still warm from dancing.

That’s when you heard the door click.

Jeongin stepped inside, hoodie pulled low, eyes shadowed.

“Oh,” you said. “Didn’t think anyone else was—”

“Still here?” he finished for you, voice calm. “Yeah. I know.”

You tilted your head. “Were you waiting?”

He didn’t answer. Just walked over, kneeling in front of you, gaze locked on yours.

“I saw you.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Last night.” His eyes didn’t waver. “With Seungmin. With Changbin. I saw the way you looked after. The way your legs were shaking.”

You flushed, heart racing.

“You think I’m the innocent one,” he whispered, crawling closer. “The cute one. The baby.”

His hand touched your thigh—soft. Gentle. Dangerous.

“That’s why you haven’t touched me yet, isn’t it?”

“I—” Your breath hitched. “Jeongin…”

“I waited,” he murmured, fingers tracing slow circles over your skin. “I’ve been patient. Smiling. Sitting back while you let everyone else have a taste.”

He leaned closer. “But you want me, don’t you?”

You nodded—barely.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered, his voice dipping deep. “You want the one who’s been watching. Listening. Learning everything that makes you fall apart.”

His lips brushed your cheek.

“So let me show you,” he breathed. “Exactly what I’ve been saving.”

He pulled you into his lap like he’d done it a thousand times. Like he owned the right.

“Look at you,” he whispered, tilting your chin up. “Shaking for me already. And I haven’t even touched you properly.”

You gasped.

“You’re gonna fall apart so pretty, aren’t you?” he smirked. “I’m gonna make it better than they ever did.”

He kissed your neck, slow and possessive.

“They got your body,” he whispered, “but I’m taking your mind.”

And the way he looked at you after—like he’d been starved for you this whole time—

You knew.

You had saved the most dangerous for last.

Final Chapter: “All For You” Trope: Jealousy-turned-poly-bliss, praise kink, possessive chaos, worship, and indulgence Setting: Private suite. Champagne. Dim lights. Eight men. One purpose. You.

It started with a look.

A glance across the room. One spark—between Jisung and Seungmin, then Jeongin and Chan. A flicker of tension, jealousy simmering beneath the surface.

Because they all knew.

You’d been with each of them. Tasted. Touched. Ruined a little differently by every single one. And now?

You were sitting on that plush couch in nothing but silk, legs crossed, glowing with the smug satisfaction of someone they’d each fallen for—hard.

Felix was the first to move.

He knelt at your feet, lips ghosting over your knee. “We all keep trying to be your favorite,” he murmured, voice honey-thick and dark.

“And you let us,” Hyunjin added, standing behind you now, brushing your hair off your neck with featherlight fingers. “You love the way we fall apart for you.”

You smiled. “Can you blame me?”

That’s when Chan stepped forward—commanding, calm, but dangerously close to losing his patience.

“How about,” he said, voice low, “we stop pretending?”

You blinked. “Pretending what?”

“That we’re not all dying to have you,” Changbin growled, eyes locked on yours from across the room.

“Together.”

Your heart stopped.

And then it all exploded.

Hands. Lips. Heat.

Jeongin kissed your shoulder. Seungmin whispered filth in your ear. Minho dragged you into his lap like he owned the spot. Jisung’s fingers danced along your thighs like he’d written symphonies for them.

You were surrounded. Drenched in attention. Worshipped like the center of their universe—because you were.

One hand tangled in Hyunjin’s soft hair. Another clutched Chan’s wrist. Felix kissed your stomach while Jeongin spread your knees wider, eyes wide and dark with adoration.

“She’s ours tonight,” Seungmin murmured. “So let’s make her feel like it.”

And they did.

With praise that made you melt.

With jealousy that turned into competition—who could make you moan louder, tremble harder, come undone faster.

With so much love beneath the chaos you felt like a goddess being devoted to.

“You take us so well, baby,” Chan whispered against your temple. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard,” Han gasped when you whimpered his name. “Let us give you everything,” Minho said, voice velvet-rough.

And when you finally collapsed into the sheets, trembling and spent, they were all there—holding you. Kissing your skin. Stroking your hair.

Home.

You didn’t have to choose a favorite. Because they’d already chosen you.

And they’d never let you forget it.