#puppym3

18+ tags: service top!felix, fingering (f rec), oral sex (f rec), pussy drunk!felix, comfort sex, hair pulling, cumming untouched, aftercare

a/n: wow... it's been forever guys... i was itching to finish the one of many sitting in my chamber, so i stayed up for 12 HOURS to finish this one (it took a while to get back into the groove of things). i miss you guys so much srsly...

A party was an unfamiliar setting for you, not for a girl who is in a 4 year long relationship. The music was too loud to think properly, the bass was vibrating through your body and giving you chills.

You stood near the edge of the party, far enough so that you could breathe, but also close enough so that you blended in. A red cup was warm in your hand. You hadn’t really drunk much of it, just a little bit so that it would ease your nerves.

It felt so strange being here. But you weren’t sure yet if it was a bad strange.

Your phone buzzed once in your pocket and your hand went to grab it on instinct, like your body had been trained to flinch before your mind even caught up. But you let go, you wouldn’t let that habit belong to tonight. It belonged to him.

To him.

The thought pulled you backward for a second, away from flashing lights and noisy music and into the tight, suffocating space you’d been living in for months.

He never liked you going anywhere without him. “It’s just because I care about you,” he’d say, like control was a love language. Your friends had stopped asking you to come out because he always had a reason you couldn’t. Your phone was always checked. Your replies were always monitored. Slowly your world had gotten smaller until it revolved around him.

And a name you didn’t recognize. A girl’s name. Saved in his phone like it meant nothing. Like it wasn’t a crack forming right through everything he swore wasn’t happening. When you asked him about it, he laughed first as if you were the joke.

“You’re just trying to start another argument.”

Then: “Why are you always so insecure?”

Then, when that didn’t land, he shifted it again. Somehow it became about you. Your trust. Your attitude. The fact that you were “always trying to start problems.”

You had believed him before. You had always believed him before.

But this time you knew something was wrong, he was always able to convince you he was loyal, that you were so much work that he couldn’t even think about having another girl.

So tonight, when he left his place in that familiar storm of frustration and superiority, you didn’t follow. You waited until he was gone. Then you went out. The one thing you couldn’t do alone.

When you were at the party, nobody was calling your dress unflattering or slutty. No one was holding you on a leash. No one was watching your every movement like a mistake waiting to happen.

And for once your shoulders dropped a little, you felt safer with a bunch of strangers than you did with your long-term boyfriend.

You even laughed once, quietly, at something someone said near you. It surprised you more than it should have.

It wasn’t perfect. There was a small knot in your chest that refused to fully loosen. A kind of alertness that kept flickering, like your body didn’t trust anything.

But it was still better, safer, easier.

And then your phone buzzed again.

This time, you felt it in your bones before you even looked. You pulled it out slowly.

It was a message from him.

A screenshot followed by a location pin you instantly recognized: this party, this exact place.

Your stomach dropped so fast it felt like the floor shifted.

Then the message:

“So this is what you are.”

Another:

“Out acting like a whore while I’m sitting here wasting my time on you.”

Your fingers went cold.

Your vision blurred the moment the second message fully landed.

It wasn’t just what he said, it was how fast your body reacted to it. Like it already knew what came next. Like it had been waiting for this exact moment to collapse.

Your grip tightened around the phone until your fingers hurt.

For a second, you just stood there in the noise and light and movement, everything inside you going still.

Then it hit, the feeling of your heart in your stomach. The knot in your chest snapped shut like a fist.

The party didn’t feel freeing anymore. It felt like too many eyes, too many voices, too much space for you to exist wrong in.

Your body moved, shouldering through people without really seeing them, muttering apologies that didn’t sound like your voice. The red cup slipped from your hand at some point, you didn’t even register when. It hit the floor and spilled, but you were already moving.

‘Whore.’

The word echoed louder than the music.

‘Wasting my time.’

Each step felt heavier, like the house itself was resisting you. Your pulse was loud in your ears, drowning everything else out.

You found the kitchen first.

No thinking, just motion.

A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the counter like it was waiting. Someone had left it behind like it didn’t matter. You grabbed it anyway, your fingers trembling, and kept going.

Through a hallway. Down a darker stretch of the house where the noise dulled into something muffled and unreal.

You pushed open the first door that wasn’t locked. It was empty.

You stepped inside and closed it behind you without checking if anyone noticed. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of streetlights leaking through blinds.

A bed sat against the wall. Unmade.

You didn’t think.

Your legs just gave out.

You slid down to the floor beside it, back pressing against the mattress frame like it was the only solid thing left in the world.

The whiskey bottle stayed in your hand for a second.

Then you tipped it back.

Burning, sharp, immediate, enough to make your throat tighten in a different way than the tears already building there.

You set it down too hard.

Your hands were shaking now, fully. Not subtle anymore. Not something you could hide.

And suddenly you weren’t holding it in anymore.

Tears were hot and messy, shaking your whole body like something had finally cracked through the surface you’d been forcing together for too long.

You pressed your forehead to your knees, one hand still loosely gripping the bottle like it was the only thing anchoring you to the moment.

Your breathing couldn’t settle, tt came in uneven pulls, and your eyes burned from crying too long, lashes clumped together, cheeks damp and hot. You kept your forehead pressed to your knees anyway, like pressure alone could keep you from falling apart further.

The room stayed quiet except for you.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, minutes, maybe longer, just existing in the aftershock of everything he’d said, everything you’d been swallowing for years finally spilling over all at once.

Your grip on the whiskey bottle loosened slightly, then tightened again when your thoughts drifted back to your phone.

You didn’t want to look at it again. But you could still see the messages behind your eyelids as if they were branded there.

Your shoulders shook once more as another wave of tears came, quieter now but heavier in a different way. Exhaustion was starting to mix in with everything else. 

You let out a shaky breath.

And then the door handle clicked.

Your head lifted so fast it made you dizzy.

The door opened.

Light from the hallway spilled into the room, slicing through the dimness. A figure stepped in mid-conversation, voice still trailing behind him like he’d been talking to someone just outside.

He had long blonde hair that caught the light even in the dark, soft and almost glowing against the shadowed hallway behind him. 

Then his eyes landed on you, widening in surprise.

He scanned everything, the puffy eyes, the whiskey bottle, the tear stains in your sleeves.

Everything shifted.

“Oh-” he started, instinctively stepping forward, then freezing again like his brain was catching up too slowly.

You blinked up at him, still teary, still trying to figure out if you were about to be laughed at, kicked out, or worse: broadcast back to the party like some kind of joke.

Instead, he quickly reached back and shut the door behind him.

Like he was trying to erase the fact that anyone else could even look in.

The noise outside vanished.

Just like that. It was just you and him now.

He crouched down slightly, closer to your level but not invading, like he was trying to take up as little space as possible.

His voice came out softer when he spoke.

“Hey… are you okay?”

You blinked at him again.

Something about his voice didn’t match what you expected. It was deeper than his face, steadier too, like it didn’t belong to someone who looked this gentle.

You stared for a second too long, then sniffed, still a little unsteady.

“Your voice…” you muttered, slightly slurred, honest in a way you didn’t have energy to filter anymore. “It doesn’t match your face.”

A pause.

Then, to your surprise, he smiled. It was such a bright smile that it caught you off guard.

It hit you in a strange way, so warm it made something in your chest twist, and suddenly you had to look away. Not because it was bad. Because it was too much when you were already full of everything else.

The floor felt colder under you.

He glanced briefly at the bottle near your hand, then back at you, his expression shifting, still calm, but more careful now.

Not judging. Just noticing.

“Do you want me to sit?” he asked quietly.

You nodded before your brain fully caught up.

It was small, barely a movement, but he seemed to understand anyway. He shifted down onto the floor beside you, careful, giving you space like he could tell you didn’t want to feel crowded.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It was soft. Weirdly safe in a way you weren’t used to.

You stared at him for a second longer than normal, your eyes still glossy, cheeks blotchy, mind still half stuck on the messages burned into your phone.

Then it all came spilling out again.

“It’s just…” your voice cracked mid-sentence, and you laughed weakly at yourself like it was ridiculous you were even talking. “You know what’s insane?”

He didn’t interrupt or rush you, just tilted his head slightly, as if he was listening with his full attention.

That alone made your heart lighten a little.

“My boyfriend-” you swallowed, rubbing your sleeve across your face clumsily. “He acts like I’m crazy. Like I’m the problem. And then I find a girl’s name in his phone and suddenly I’m the one ruining things.”

Your voice got sharper for a second, anger slipping through the sadness.

“And then he says I’m insecure. Like- you don’t even let me keep friends?”

A shaky breath.

You glanced at him like you expected him to react, to tell you you were overreacting, or to side-eye you the way your boyfriend always did when you spoke too much.

But he didn’t.

He just listened.

So you kept going.

“I swear I’m not even asking for much,” you said, leaning your head back against the bed frame, staring at the ceiling like it might explain things better than you could. “I just want someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m begging to exist in their life.”

A pause.

Then, quieter, like the words slipped out without permission:

“He doesn’t even care if I’m.. happy.”

You blinked.

Then, suddenly, you let out a small, humorless laugh.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, turning your head back toward him. “I’m literally trauma dumping in a random guy’s bedroom. That’s crazy.”

He shook his head slightly.

“You’re okay,” he said gently. “You can talk.”

Something about that made your brain short-circuit in the gentlest way.

Your rambling shifted, almost absurdly, like your emotions couldn’t decide what lane to stay in.

“I swear,” you said, gesturing vaguely with your free hand, “he’s like… emotionally present sometimes but also completely absent? Like he’s there but not there.”

He gave a small, understanding nod, like he was trying to follow every piece of it.

You huffed.

“And don’t even get me started on intimacy,” you added, words coming out faster now that the dam had cracked. “Like, I don’t even think he cares if I-”

You stopped mid-sentence, blinking.

Then shrugged.

“Actually, yeah. He doesn’t care if I do.”

A beat.

You laughed again, louder this time, like it was the funniest thing in the world.

“It’s like… ‘it’s about the intimacy, not the pleasure,’” you quoted mockingly, air-quoting with both hands. “Cool. Awesome. I’m just lying there like a decorative doll while he calls it connection.”

The words hung in the air.

You didn’t even realize how much you’d said until the silence shifted.

He didn’t laugh.

Didn’t look shocked either.

He just… blinked slowly, processing, expression turning a little more careful in a way that made your stomach drop slightly.

“Mmm,” he hummed softly.

Not judgmental.

Just seemed surprised you were carrying all of that.

And then something in your chest cracked again, harder this time, because suddenly it wasn’t funny anymore.

Your face twisted.

“I don’t even know why I stayed,” you whispered, voice breaking at the edges. “I just- I thought it would go back to how it was in the beginning.”

Tears came fast again, slipping out before you could stop them.

“I feel so stupid.”

That was the moment his expression changed fully.

No discomfort or pity, just concern.

He shifted slightly closer, not invading, just enough that you could feel his presence more clearly.

“Hey,” he said softly. “You aren’t stupid.”

But you were already spiraling again, the words tumbling out messy and emotional, your hands shaking harder.

“It’s just- he makes me feel like I’m always wrong, like I’m too much and not enough at the same time and I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be-”

Your voice broke.

And then you fully started crying again.

His eyes widened slightly, like he hadn’t expected the shift so fast.

“Hey- hey, it’s okay,” he said quickly, voice still gentle but now a little panicked at the edges. 

He looked around like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, then carefully lowered them near you without touching, like he was asking permission without words.

“Do you want water? Or- do you want me to call someone? A friend?”

You shook your head quickly at his question, tears still slipping down your cheeks.

“I don’t even have friends,” you said, voice raw. “Like… not really.”

His expression changed again, subtle, but immediate. Confusion first, then something heavier underneath it.

You sniffed, wiping your face with your sleeve like it could fix anything.

“He made it like that,” you added, quieter now but still spilling over. “At first it was like… cute, I guess? He just wanted to spend time with me. Then it was like ‘I don’t like them,’ ‘they’re bad for you,’ ‘they don’t really care about you.’ And I thought he was protecting me.”

You gave a shaky laugh that didn’t have any humor in it.

“Turns out he was just making sure I had nowhere to go.”

The words hung there a second too long.

The silence after your last sentence lingered longer than either of you expected.

It wasn’t heavy in a bad way.

He exhaled softly, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“That’s not… you,” he said gently. “What he did. That’s not you being friendless or anything. That’s him isolating you.”

You looked down at your hands, still shaking a little.

“You’ll be okay,” he added after a pause, a little more certain now. “Like, genuinely. You don’t just lose people like that and then have no one forever. You will meet new people.”

His tone wasn’t dismissive.

It was calm. Like he actually believed it.

But that only made something in your chest tighten again.

You lifted your head quickly, interrupting him before the reassurance could settle too deep.

“Where are you from?” you blurted out.

He blinked.

The shift was so sudden it visibly threw him off for a second.

“Your accent is so prominent,” you added, like that explained everything.

A beat.

Then he let out a quiet laugh through his nose, clearly caught off guard.

“Uh- Australia,” he said, like he still wasn’t sure how the conversation had ended up here.

You nodded slowly, absorbing it with intense seriousness, like this was vital information you needed to process immediately.

“That explains it,” you muttered.

He huffed a small laugh again, shaking his head slightly.

His smile lingered for a second, but then it softened into something more attentive.

He looked at you properly again, like he was reassessing how steady you actually were.

“You’re… definitely a bit drunk, yeah?” he said gently, not accusing, just observing.

You squinted at him like that was a deeply offensive question.

“I’m not a bit drunk,” you said very seriously. Then paused. “Okay maybe I am a little bit drunk.”

That made him laugh quietly again, but it faded fast as he glanced toward the door, then back at you.

His tone shifted into something more practical.

“Hey,” he said softly, “can I get you an Uber? Just so you can get home safe?”

Your face changed immediately.

Like the idea itself physically collided with something else inside you.

You shook your head fast.

“No,” you said, too quickly. Then more gently, but still firm. “No, no, you can’t.”

He paused. “Why not?”

You looked at him like the answer should be obvious.

“Because you’re literally an angel,” you said, like it was fact. “And I already barged in your room, cried and vented to you when I’m a stranger to you.”

His expression softened at that, like he was trying to figure out where your brain was taking you next.

“That’s… not a problem,” he said gently.

But you were already shaking your head again, more emotional now than joking.

“I just-” your voice wobbled, “I can’t accept an Uber from you. That feels illegal. Like morally. Or spiritually.”

That got another quiet laugh out of him, but it faded quickly as he watched you more closely again.

You swallowed, the humor slipping again as reality crept back in.

“And I don’t want to go home,” you added, quieter. “I really don’t.”

His face changed.

“Okay,” he said softly. “Then let’s save that conversation for later.”

You blinked at him like you weren’t sure you heard that correctly.

He nodded once, steady.

“But we also need to make sure you’re safe,” he added, voice calm but firm in a gentle way. “Do you have anyone else you trust? Anyone at all?”

You opened your mouth.

Closed it.

Then let out a small, broken laugh that didn’t have any humor in it.

“No,” you said honestly. 

That word hung in the air again, heavier this time because neither of you brushed past them.

“Alright,” he said after a pause. “Then we figure it out here. Okay?”

You stared at him.

Still teary. Still drunk. Still completely overwhelmed.

And then, very suddenly, your brain decided to latch onto something completely different again like a lifeline.

“You’re so calm,” you said, squinting at him. “Like… why are you this calm? Are you always like this? Is this a personality trait or are you just secretly not real?”

That caught him off guard again.

He let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head.

“I’m real,” he said.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“I don’t believe you.”

That made him laugh properly this time, brighter, before he leaned back slightly against the floor.

“You’re very… intense when you’re drunk,” he said gently.

“I’m intense when I’m sober too,” you informed him very seriously.

“Noted,” he said, still smiling.

The quiet stretched for a second, comfortable in a strange, unfamiliar way.

And then it hit you.

Your eyes widened slightly.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, sitting up a little straighter despite the dizziness. “I’ve been talking this whole time and I didn’t even tell you my name.”

He blinked, like he hadn’t even noticed, or hadn’t cared.

You pressed your lips together, suddenly feeling awkward in a completely different way.

“I’m-” you started, then gave a small, sheepish laugh. “I’m sorry, that’s so rude. I gave you my whole villain origin story and didn’t even bother to give you my name.”

You told him your name, voice softer now, a little embarrassed.

He repeated it back, like he was making sure he got it right, and something about that, about the way he actually paid attention, made your chest feel weirdly tight again.

“I’m Felix.”

You nodded, like this made the whole situation more real.

Like this wasn’t just some random moment you’d imagined.

There was a pause.

You hesitated.

Then, before you could overthink it too much, 

“Can I get your number?”

You immediately paused.

“Wait- okay, that sounded… hold on,” you fumbled, hands moving slightly as if you could physically fix what you just said. “I don’t mean it like that. Not like- that.”

Your face flushed, heat rising all the way up your neck.

“I just-” you exhaled, trying to gather your thoughts. “I know you’re a stranger, which makes this worse, but also you’re like… the only nice person- or person in general that I’ve talked to in a long time and I don’t have-  like… a support system, I guess? And I have a boyfriend- well, technically- and I’m not trying to hit on you or anything because that would be weird and also morally questionable and-”

“Hey-”

He cut you off gently, but quickly, before you could spiral any further.

You froze mid-ramble.

“I get it,” he said simply.

Your mouth snapped shut.

You blinked at him.

“Oh.”

He gave you a small nod, already reaching his hand out.

“Can I?” he asked, gesturing lightly toward your phone.

You handed it to him without thinking.

He typed his number in, movements easy, like this wasn’t a big deal to him at all.

Like you weren’t a burden for asking.

He handed it back.

“There,” he said.

You stared at your phone for a second after he handed it back, as if you weren’t convinced he was actually going to give it to you.

Then, somehow, after that the conversation just… kept going.

Just you talking.

At first it was still heavy, pieces of your relationship slipping out in uneven chunks, stories you hadn’t said out loud before, things you didn’t even realize you’d been holding onto until they were suddenly in the air between you. He didn’t interrupt. Didn’t rush you. He just listened, nodding sometimes, asking small, careful questions when it felt right.

And then, slowly, without you noticing exactly when it happened, it shifted.

Your tone got lighter.

You started rambling about random things, your old friends, little memories, things you used to like before everything got… smaller. You laughed at your own stories sometimes, even if it ended in a quiet sigh.

At one point you caught yourself mid-sentence.

“I’m talking a lot,” you said, blinking at him.

He shook his head immediately.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I don’t mind.”

So you kept going.

Words spilling out easier now, like once the dam broke, everything behind it followed. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t organized. But it was honest.

And he stayed.

The whole time.

At some point, the music outside faded. The house got quieter. Voices disappeared one by one until it was just distant creaks and the occasional muffled laugh from somewhere far off.

You hadn’t even noticed how late it had gotten until you yawned mid-sentence.

Felix glanced toward the door, then back at you.

“It’s really late,” he said softly. “How are you feeling?”

You blinked, trying to assess yourself.

“Tired,” you admitted. “Less… everything. But still tired.”

He nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “I can take you home.”

You hesitated for half a second, but it didn’t feel like the same kind of hesitation as before.

“I’ll just make sure you get in safe,” he added quickly, like he could see that thought cross your face. “I won’t leave until you’re inside.”

That made something in your chest ease just enough.

“…okay,” you said quietly.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You woke up to the wrong kind of silence.

Not the calm kind.

Your head throbbed before your eyes even fully opened, a dull, heavy ache pressing behind your forehead. Everything felt too bright, too close, too real. You shifted slightly, expecting empty space beside you.

Instead, there was weight in the room.

You turned your head slowly.

And froze.

He was there.

Sitting at the edge of your bed like he belonged there. Like he always had. Your phone was in his hand.

Your stomach dropped so hard it felt like you were still falling.

“What are you doing?” you rasped, your voice rough from sleep and last night still clinging to your skin.

He didn’t even look guilty.

Didn’t even look surprised you were awake.

Just annoyed.

“Who the hell is Felix?” he snapped immediately, holding your phone up slightly like evidence in a case you didn’t know you were on trial for. “Huh? You think I wouldn’t see this?”

Your brain lagged for a second, trying to catch up through the hangover fog.

Felix.

The name landed slowly.

Last night. The room. The crying. The way someone had actually stayed. The way you hadn’t felt like you were being judged for once.

Your throat tightened.

“He’s just-” you started, but your voice came out weaker than you wanted.

“Just what?” he cut in, standing now. “Because it looks like you were out getting drunk and meeting random guys behind my back.”

“I wasn’t-” you tried again.

He scoffed.

“Oh please. Don’t start.”

He tapped your phone screen, already going through it like it was his right. Your messages, your contact list, no hesitation, no permission, just entitlement.

You pushed yourself up slightly, head pounding.

“Stop,” you said, sharper now. “Put my phone down.”

He ignored you.

Then, right in front of you, he deleted the contact.

Gone. Just like that.

Something in your chest cracked, small and sharp and immediate.

It wasn’t even logical, it was barely a memory, barely a night, but it hurt in a way you couldn’t explain. Like the only person who had been gentle with you in a long time had just been erased on purpose.

You stared at him.

Your usual reflex kicked in.

Apologize. Soften it. Fix it. Smooth it over.

But your mouth didn’t move.

Your head hurt too much. Your body felt too tired. And something deeper, something quieter, just… stopped.

“I’m done,” you said.

Flat. Deadpan.

No rise. No fall. Just fact.

He froze.

For a second, it was like his brain didn’t process the words.

“What?” he said, slower now.

“I’m done,” you repeated.

That’s when his expression changed.

Confusion first.

Then disbelief.

Then anger, sharp and immediate.

“Oh, so there’s really something with you and this guy?” he snapped. “That’s what this is? You meet some random dude once and suddenly you’re acting like you’re hot fucking shit?”

Your chest tightened again. You didn’t wanna do this again.

Every time he twisted reality. Every time you ended up apologizing for things you didn’t do. Every time you shrank yourself smaller just to keep him calm.

And now he was standing there trying to steal even this, this one night where you weren’t miserable.

Your voice wavered.

“You don’t get to talk about me like that,” you said quietly.

That made him scoff again.

“Oh my god, listen to you.”

Something in you snapped.

“Stop talking,” you said suddenly, louder.

Your head pounded, but you didn’t care anymore.

“You don’t get to come in here and go through my phone and delete people and act like I’m the problem every time I breathe wrong,” you said, voice shaking now but rising anyway. “I am so tired of you.”

He opened his mouth to interrupt. You didn’t let him.

“No,” you said, stepping forward now despite the dizziness. “You listen for once. I’m done. I’m done with you controlling everything I do, I’m done with you isolating me, I’m done with you acting like I’m crazy every time I notice something is wrong.”

Your eyes burned.

But you didn’t stop.

“I’m not fixing this anymore,” you said. “I’m not apologizing. I’m not begging. I’m done.”

For the first time, he looked like he didn’t know what to do.

Anger flickered again, but underneath it, something else. Fear.

“You’re seriously choosing this?” he said, voice lower now. “Over me? Over some guy you barely know?”

That was it. The last thread.

You let out a shaky breath, tears finally spilling, but your voice didn’t break this time.

“No,” you said. “I’m choosing me.”

Silence held for a second too long.

Then he scoffed.

“You?” he said, almost laughing. “You’re choosing you?”

Your stomach tightened, but you didn’t step back. He shook his head like you were something disappointing.

“You’re acting like you’ve been some victim this whole time,” he added, voice rising again. “Like I didn’t do everything for you. Like I didn’t-”

“You didn’t do everything for me,” you cut in, quieter now, but steadier. “You did everything for you.”

That landed. You saw it in his face, the flicker, the irritation sharpening into something meaner.

You swallowed, voice cracking slightly but continuing anyway.

“You’ve been hurting me for a long time,” you said. “And every time I tried to say it, you made it about you. Every time I was upset, I ended up apologizing. I’m not doing that anymore.”

A pause.

Your hands were shaking now, but you kept them down by your sides.

“I’m done,” you repeated again, like you needed your own brain to believe it. “This is it.”

For a second, he just stared at you.

Then he let out a cold laugh.

“Alright,” he said, nodding slowly like he was done entertaining this. “Fine. Do whatever you want then.”

He grabbed his things abruptly, movements sharp, controlled anger leaking through every step.

“You’ll come back,” he muttered as he headed toward the door. “You always do.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Your throat felt locked tight.

The door shut behind him harder than necessary.

Everything was silent.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You had no idea how long you cried for. Time stopped making sense, dissolving into a blurry haze of shaking breaths, damp sheets, and that heavy ache in your chest that refused to loosen no matter how tightly you curled into yourself. Your throat burned. Your eyes stung. Even your thoughts felt scraped raw.

Eventually the sobs quieted into something emptier, not peace, just exhaustion so deep your mind didn’t know where to go anymore.

You reached for your phone out of pure habit, fingers moving before your brain caught up. Then you froze.

Felix.

The name hit you all at once. You sat up slowly, wiping your face with your sleeve, and opened your contacts with a sinking heart.

Gone. Deleted.

Of course he did. Of course he took that too.

Your hands dropped into your lap. For a long while you just sat there, blank and hollow, staring at nothing. You wanted to talk to someone, anyone, but there was no one left. That small, safe space from last night where someone had actually listened, had stayed without trying to fix or control you… it was gone.

The ache in your chest deepened into something tired and dull. Night fell without you noticing, the room gradually darkening around you. You were half-curled on the bed, lost in the heavy quiet, when a soft knock broke the silence.

You froze.

Another knock followed, a little more certain this time.

Your heart stuttered. Legs heavy, you pushed yourself up and padded to the door, peering through the peephole without really thinking.

Felix.

He was really standing there, shifting his weight nervously, long blonde hair catching the hallway light. When you cracked the door open, his eyes met yours and his whole face softened instantly, brows drawing together in gentle concern.

“Hey…” he said, voice warm and a little uncertain, that deep Australian accent wrapping around the word like a hug. “I know this is probably really weird.”

You could only stare.

He let out a small, awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks tinting just a touch pink. “I tried calling, but it wouldn’t go through. I was worried about you. You gave me your address last night, so I… yeah. I just wanted to check if you were okay.”

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out.

Felix’s gaze swept over you: swollen eyes, exhausted face, the way you were barely holding yourself together, and his expression melted into something even softer, almost protective. He took half a step closer but stopped himself, clearly not wanting to overwhelm you.

“…Are you okay?” he asked, quieter now, tilting his head slightly like a worried puppy.

The feeling was overwhelming.

You pulled the door open fully and stepped forward without thinking, wrapping your arms around him.

He stiffened for half a second in surprise, then immediately softened.

One arm came up carefully, instinctively, holding you steady like he understood without needing explanation.

And you broke. Again.

You both eventually made it all the way in the apartment, he let you cry for a moment longer, you recounted what happened, and he did what he did then, listened.

Even after the crying slows, even after Felix gently guides you to sit on the edge of your bed again, there’s this strange aftershock in your body, like everything in you has been shaken loose and hasn’t settled back into place yet.

Felix sits nearby, not too close, just close enough that you know he’s there if you need him. The apartment is quiet now, not tense anymore, just peacefully still.

At some point you stop talking. The last words drift away and neither of you rushes to fill the silence. Felix doesn’t try to fix anything or push for more details. He just sits with you in it, patient and steady in a way that feels almost foreign.

Your breathing slowly evens out.

Then you look at him. Really look.

With the worst of the storm finally easing, you notice things you hadn’t before: the way his soft blond hair falls gently into his eyes, the freckles scattered across his cheeks like they were placed there on purpose, and the calm way he holds himself, like nothing about you, no matter how messy, is too much for him to handle.

It hits you suddenly how close he is. How real he is.

Your chest feels strange again, but not with pain this time. It’s more disorienting, warmer. Your thoughts are slow and foggy, still tangled from everything that happened, and when Felix speaks, something soft about whether you need water, it barely registers.

You just keep staring.

His mouth moves gently as he talks, his expression shifting with quiet thoughtfulness. Everything about him feels so gentle, even when he’s simply existing in the silence. The way he watches you with those kind eyes, the small, reassuring tilt of his head… it’s like he’s silently saying “I’ve got you” without needing words.

And something in your body reacts before your brain can catch up.

It starts subtle, a quiet flutter low in your stomach, a warmth spreading under your skin that doesn’t have a name yet. Not a clear thought, just a feeling. A pull. Something that makes your pulse quicken and your fingers twitch restlessly in your lap.

Felix notices the way you’re looking at him. A soft, shy little smile tugs at his lips, the kind that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle warmly. He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, a bashful habit, and lets out a quiet, gentle laugh under his breath.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, voice low and fond. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t sound worried, just sweetly concerned, like he’d happily sit here all night if it helped you feel even a little bit steadier.

Your heartbeat starts to feel louder than it should, like it’s suddenly become aware of itself. Each beat feels a little too present, a little too noticeable in the quiet room.

Felix is still speaking softly, something about you resting, but it’s like the sound is slightly behind glass. You’re aware of it, but not fully processing it.

Because your attention keeps drifting back to him. To the way he’s sitting there so naturally close, without pressure, without expectation. You notice things you didn’t before.

The faint scent of him; clean, soft, something warm underneath it that makes your head feel a little lighter in a way you don’t expect. Not overwhelming. Just… there.

His presence feels steady in a way your body seems to lean toward without asking permission.

It confuses you.

Because your mind is still tangled in everything from earlier; the crying, the breakup, the fear, but your body is reacting to something entirely different.

Felix shifts slightly, adjusting his position, and your eyes track it automatically.

He notices.

“Hey,” he says again, quieter now. “You’re staring again.”

That makes you blink, like you’ve been pulled back into yourself for a second.

“Oh,” you say softly, almost embarrassed. “Sorry.”

But you don’t look away immediately. Your chest still feels tight, but not in pain anymore. It’s something more complicated. Unfamiliar.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of how close he is again. How the space between you feels smaller than it did before. How easy it is to notice the warmth of him just being there.

Felix doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t take advantage of the silence. He just watches you carefully, like he’s trying to make sure you’re still grounded.

“You’re okay,” he says gently. “You don’t have to do anything right now.”

That steadiness in his voice should soothe you. It always has, in the short time you’ve known him. But tonight it does the opposite, it loosens something deep in your chest while making every other feeling burn hotter, sharper, more impossible to ignore.

Your thoughts feel slow. Foggy. Like your brain has finally given up trying to sort through the wreckage of the day and is just… floating. 

Everything inside you is too much and not enough at the same time. The leftover ache from crying. The sharp, humiliating echo of your ex’s voice. The quiet relief of Felix still being here. And underneath it all, a new, liquid heat pooling low in your belly that you haven’t felt in so long it almost scares you.

You don’t want to think anymore.

You don’t want to analyze why your body is reacting like this, or whether it’s too soon, or what it says about you that the first gentle person to show up has you trembling for entirely different reasons now.

You just want to feel.

Your fingers twitch again in your lap, restless and restless. Felix notices immediately, the way he seems to notice everything. His expression softens even more, those freckles shifting with the small tilt of his head.

“You’re still shaking a bit,” he murmurs, voice low and warm, that deep Australian accent wrapping around the words like velvet. “Do you want me to get you something? Or should I just stay here?”

The question is simple. But it lands heavy in the quiet room.

You swallow, throat tight. Your eyes trace the line of his jaw, the soft fall of blonde hair against his forehead, the careful way he keeps his hands relaxed on his thighs even though you can feel the attention radiating off him. He’s so close. Close enough that you can smell the faint clean scent of him, something warm and a little sweet, like vanilla and skin after a shower.

“I don’t…” Your voice comes out smaller than you mean it to, a little hoarse from all the earlier tears. “I don’t want water. I don’t want you to leave.”

You shift on the edge of the bed, knees brushing his accidentally. The contact sends a spark racing up your thigh, bright and electric. 

Felix stays perfectly still, but you see the way his shoulders tighten just a fraction, not pulling away, just… aware. His dark eyes search your face, patient, waiting for you to finish the thought.

“I just-” You let out a shaky laugh that sounds more like a sigh. “Everything hurts. My head. My chest. And I’m so tired of hurting, Felix. I don’t want to think about him anymore. I don’t want to think at all.”

Your hand moves before you can second guess it, sliding slowly across the small space between you until your fingertips graze the back of his hand. His skin is warm. Steady. You trace one light circle there, almost absentmindedly, and feel the way his breath changes.

Felix doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t move closer either. He just watches your fingers with quiet curiosity, that small tilt of his head making his blonde hair fall softly across one eye.

“Why are you still here?” you whisper, the question slipping out before you can stop it. Your voice cracks a little at the end. “I’ve done nothing but cry to you… twice now. You don’t even know me. Not really.”

He blinks, clearly caught off guard by the shift. His thumb brushes lightly over your knuckles, instinctive, soothing. “Because you needed someone,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And I didn’t want to leave you alone like that.”

That answer should feel kind. It does. But it also makes the heat low in your stomach twist tighter, sharper. You don’t understand why your body is reacting like this, why the gentle stroke of his thumb is suddenly making your pulse throb between your legs, why just the low rumble of his voice is making your thighs press together without permission. It’s confusing. Embarrassing. You barely know him, and yet…

You swallow hard, eyes dropping to where your fingers are still touching his. “It’s… it’s making me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling right now,” you admit shyly, barely louder than a breath. Your cheeks burn. “I don’t know why. My brain is all foggy and my body is just… it’s confusing me.”

Felix’s brow furrows slightly, concern flickering across his face. He’s still not quite catching on, still thinking this is about the breakup, the exhaustion, the leftover tears. “Hey, that’s normal after everything you’ve been through today,” he says gently, voice deep and careful. “Emotions get all tangled up. You don’t have to figure it out tonight.”

But you shake your head, the words tumbling out in a shaky rush. “No, it’s… it’s not just that. I wanted support. That’s all I wanted. And now my stupid brain is ruining it, making everything feel… different. Making me want things I definitely shouldn’t want from someone who’s only been nice to me.” Your voice wavers, eyes stinging again. “You should probably just leave. I’m sorry. I’m making this weird.”

You start to pull your hand back, suddenly mortified, but Felix catches it gently, not letting you retreat completely. His grip is loose, you could pull away if you really wanted to, but the warmth of his palm against yours sends another unwelcome spark racing through you.

“Wait,” he says softly, searching your face. He still looks a little lost, like he’s trying to piece together what you’re not saying. “I’m not going anywhere unless you actually want me to. If something’s confusing you… let me help. Let me be a distraction, yeah? Whatever you need right now, talking, silence, whatever it is, I’m here.”

The offer lands like a quiet shock. Your eyes widen, heart stuttering. There’s no way he means it. He doesn’t fully understand what you’re feeling, not yet, but he’s offering anyway. No pressure. Just that steady, patient presence.

You let out a small, nervous laugh despite the butterflies exploding in your stomach. “A distraction,” you repeat, the word sounding far too intimate on your tongue. “That sounds dangerous when you say it like that.”

Felix’s eyes sharpen just a fraction, dark, captivating, the kind of gaze that makes you shiver even though he’s barely moved. There’s a new awareness there now, like he’s starting to read between the lines of your shy rambling. His lips curve into the smallest, softest smile, but his voice stays low and calm.

“Dangerous how?” he asks gently, thumb still tracing slow, soothing circles on the back of your hand. He doesn’t push. He just waits, giving you all the space in the world to decide what comes next.

You bite your lip, pulse racing. The heat in your belly has only grown heavier, warmer, more insistent, and you still don’t know why your body is betraying you like this. Part of you wants to hide. Part of you wants him closer. The contradiction makes your head spin.

“Like… I don’t know if this is a good idea,” you whisper, honest and trembling.

Felix doesn’t look away. His thumb keeps up those slow, steady circles on the back of your hand, grounding and maddening all at once. For a long moment he just studies you, dark eyes soft but focused, like he’s weighing every small tremble in your voice and every nervous flutter of your lashes.

Then he leans in just a fraction closer, voice dropping even lower, that rich Australian accent curling around the words like warm smoke.

“If you want to use me for this… if letting go for a minute, if letting me distract you, will settle that storm in your head even a little…” He pauses, giving you time to breathe, to pull away. “Then I’ll do it. No questions. No expectations after. Just whatever you need right now.”

The offer sinks into you like honey and gasoline at the same time.

Your breath catches hard. The contradiction is dizzying, part of you screaming that this is too fast, too soon, too dangerous after everything that just happened today. The other part, the one that’s been starved for gentle touch and genuine care, is leaning toward him like a flower toward sunlight.

An angel or temptation from hell?

Right now it feels like both.

You let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh that borders on a whimper. “Felix… you can’t just say things like that.” Your voice cracks, shy and overwhelmed. “I barely know you and you’re offering to… to do that?”

Your free hand twists in the fabric of your shirt, knuckles tight. The tug-of-war inside your chest is brutal; no, this is wrong, you just got out of a toxic relationship, you’re emotional and raw and half-drunk on exhaustion; yes, please, touch me, make the noise in my head stop, make me feel something good for once.

“I… I don’t know,” you whisper again, eyes flicking up to meet his. His gaze is steady, patient, but there’s a new depth there now, a quiet intensity that makes another shiver roll down your spine.

The silence stretches for a heartbeat, then another. Your mind is spinning faster now, clarity cutting through the fog even as your body burns hotter.

This won’t fix anything.

It’s just a temporary bandage, a sweet, dangerous distraction that will probably leave you even more tangled and confused tomorrow. You’ll still have to face the breakup. You’ll still have to deal with the emptiness your ex left behind. And now you’ll have the memory of Felix’s hands and voice layered on top of all that mess, making everything more complicated.

Guilt twists sharp and sudden in your chest. This is too soon. You’re raw, vulnerable, and using a kind stranger to numb the pain feels selfish. Wrong, even.

But the other voice, quieter, hungrier, the one that’s been starving for so long whispers that you deserve this. Just one night. Just a moment where someone touches you because they want to make you feel good, not because they want to control you or take from you.

You want to take a bite out of the poison apple.

You want the devil on your shoulder to win tonight.

Your breath trembles as you finally speak, voice barely above a whisper.

“…Okay.”

The single word feels huge. It hangs between you like something fragile and electric.

Felix’s eyes search yours carefully, giving you one last chance to take it back. When you don’t, he nods slowly, something soft and almost reverent crossing his face.

He hesitates for just a second, like he’s still making sure this is really what you want, then lifts his free hand. His fingers brush lightly up the outside of your arm, slow and deliberate, barely more than a whisper of contact. The warmth of his palm trails over your skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. He stops at your shoulder, thumb stroking gently along the curve there.

“I’ll only do what you want me to do,” he murmurs, voice low and steady, that deep accent wrapping around every word like a promise. “Wherever you want my hands… wherever you want my mouth… just tell me. I’ll oblige.”

His touch stays feather-light, patient, waiting for your direction. His eyes never leave your face, reading every small reaction, the way your lips part, the quick rise and fall of your chest, the way you unconsciously lean just a little closer to him.

The heat in your belly flares brighter at his words, slick and insistent. Your thighs press together again, a helpless little movement you can’t quite hide. The guilt is still there, sharp and whispering, but it’s being drowned out by the overwhelming want flooding through you.

You swallow hard, suddenly shy all over again, cheeks burning as you try to find the words.

“I… I wouldn’t know,” you admit quietly, voice shaky with nerves and need. 

Felix’s eyes stay soft, but the smallest, warmest smile touches his lips. He doesn’t laugh at your uncertainty. Instead, he leans in just a fraction closer, his thumb still drawing those slow, soothing circles on your shoulder.

“We’ll find out together,” he murmurs, voice deep and steady. “But first… I need you to tell me what you’re sure you don’t want. Set the firm lines. Anything that feels like too much right now, tell me. I won’t cross them.”

The request is so careful it makes your chest tighten in a different way. Even now, when you’ve already said yes, he’s still checking, still making space for your limits. It’s disorienting how safe that feels.

You bite your lip, thinking through the fog of heat and guilt swirling inside you. Kissing feels… big. Too intimate. Too close to something that could crack you open even more tonight.

“No kissing,” you whisper, the words coming out softer than you expected. “On the mouth, I mean.”

Felix nods immediately, no hesitation, no disappointment flickering across his face. He just accepts it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“Okay,” he says gently. “No kissing.”

The words settle between you like a quiet promise. Felix watches you for another heartbeat, making sure the boundary feels real, then gives your hand a soft squeeze.

“Come here,” he murmurs, voice low. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

He helps guide you backward onto the bed with careful hands, never rushing, until your head rests against the pillows. The mattress dips as he follows, moving over you slowly so you can feel every inch of the shift in gravity. He settles on one elbow beside you, close enough that his body heat wraps around you like a blanket, but not so close that you feel pinned.

One hand hesitates at your hip, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt, then slides upward in a slow, exploratory path over your clothed torso. His palm is warm and broad, tracing the curve of your ribs with light pressure that makes your breath hitch. The other hand moves from your hip to your waist, sliding beneath the fabric just enough to rest skin to skin, fingers splaying wide to keep you grounded against the mattress.

His face hovers inches from your neck, breath warm and steady against your skin. He doesn’t connect yet, but the closeness is devastating. His mouth is so near that every exhale ghosts over the sensitive spot just below your ear, sending slow, delicious shivers racing down your spine and straight between your legs.

You’re surprised by how into it he seems already.

His breathing has grown heavier, deeper, like the air between you has thickened into something syrupy and charged. When he reaches up with his free hand to rake his long blond hair back from his face, tucking it behind his ear so nothing blocks his view of you, the simple motion feels unbearably intimate. The strands fall messily anyway, a few soft pieces brushing his cheek, but the way he does it, focused, almost hungry, makes the air feel heavier.

His mouth stays deliciously close to your neck, hovering, teasing without touching. The heat of his breath, the faint scent of him, the way his chest rises and falls a little faster now… it’s making you dizzy in the best and worst way. Your thighs press together helplessly, the ache between them growing slick and insistent.

You feel embarrassingly close to begging already.

The last fragile thread of hesitation snaps.

Your hands move before your mind can catch up, fingers curling tightly into the front of his shirt, gripping the soft fabric and pulling him closer with a needy tug. The sudden movement presses his body more firmly against yours, and the shift in mood is instant. The careful, gentle air thickens into something hotter, heavier, almost electric.

Nothing else exists anymore. Just Felix, his warmth, his breath, and the overwhelming need burning.

Felix lets out a low, surprised hum at the way you pull him in, but he doesn’t resist. His hand on your torso slides higher, palm pressing more deliberately over your ribs as he finally closes the distance.

His mouth connects with your neck, soft at first, just the lightest press of lips against your pulse point. Then he grows bolder, placing slow, experimental open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, warm and wet, each one lingering a little longer than the last. The feeling is devastating. Every kiss sends sparks racing straight down your body, making your back arch slightly off the bed.

He seems to like the way you’re reacting.

You can feel it in the way his breathing gets rougher, in the subtle shift of his hips against your thigh, in the quiet, appreciative sound he makes in the back of his throat when your fingers tighten harder in his shirt.

Encouraged, he opens his mouth wider on the next kiss, tongue barely brushing your skin, and then he takes a gentle, experimental bite just below your ear. Not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to send a sharp, bright jolt of pleasure through you.

A sound escapes you, a broken, needy whimper that you didn’t even know you could make. It’s loud in the quiet room, raw and desperate, nothing like the quiet, restrained noises you’re used to making.

Both of you freeze for a heartbeat.

Felix pulls back just enough to look at your face, his blonde hair falling messily over one eye again, lips slightly parted and glistening. His dark eyes are wide with a mix of surprise and heat, pupils blown. The hand at your waist squeezes gently, grounding, while the one on your torso stills completely.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment at the sound you just let out. You’re breathing fast, chest rising and falling quickly under his palm.

Felix’s voice comes out rougher than before, low and a little breathless, that deep Australian accent thicker now.

“Fuck…are you okay?” he asks, searching your eyes. His thumb strokes slow circles on your waist, still careful even as the air between you crackles with tension.

You don’t answer with words at first.

Instead, a fresh wave of need crashes through you, making your whole body feel hypersensitive, every brush of his fingers, every warm exhale against your skin, every tiny shift of his weight sends sparks racing straight to your core. The embarrassment from that desperate whimper melts away the second you glance down and see the obvious bulge straining against the front of his pants.

He’s hard. Really hard. And you haven’t even properly touched him yet.

The realization sends a thrill through you, confidence blooming hot and sudden in your chest. You’re doing this to him. Just your sounds, your reactions, the way you’re falling apart under his gentle mouth is enough to get him like this.

Your hands move with a new urgency, sliding down before you tug your own shirt up and off in one swift motion. The cool air hits your skin for only a second before you reach back and unhook your bra, letting it slide down your arms and drop somewhere beside the bed.

Felix’s reaction is immediate.

His pupils blow wide, dark and hungry, lips parting on a shaky inhale. A soft pink flush creeps across his cheeks and the tips of his ears, making his freckles stand out even more. He looks like he’s in a complete trance, eyes drinking in every inch of newly exposed skin like he can’t believe this is real.

“Shit…” he breathes, voice hoarse and reverent. “You’re… fuck, you’re beautiful.”

You don’t give him time to overthink. Taking his wrist gently, you guide his hand up to your bare breast, pressing his warm palm against you. His fingers instinctively cup the soft weight, thumb brushing experimentally over your nipple. The touch is electric, your back arches into it with a soft gasp, nipples already tight and sensitive.

Felix lets out a low, stunned sound, almost a groan. His focus stays locked on you, eyes flicking between your face and your body like he’s trying to memorize every reaction. His other hand stays at your waist, holding you steady while his thumb circles your nipple slowly, then pinches lightly, testing what makes your breath hitch and your thighs press together.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe, that sweet blush still staining his face. “Look at you… responding so pretty for me.”

The air feels thicker now, hotter, every touch turning steamy and deliberate. His hand explores with growing confidence, squeezing gently, rolling your nipple between his fingers, then switching to the other breast to give it the same reverent attention. His mouth returns to your neck, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses and soft bites along your collarbone, working his way lower until his lips brush the swell of your breast.

He glances up at you through his messy blonde hair, eyes dark and pleading, silently asking for permission even as his tongue flicks out to taste your skin.

You don’t have the words to answer,  you just tighten your fingers in his hair and pull him closer.

That’s all the permission Felix needs.

His mouth closes over your nipple with a soft, wet heat that makes your back arch off the bed instantly. He starts slow, gentle licks, warm and deliberate, circling the sensitive peak before sucking it into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. The sensation is overwhelming, a sharp jolt of pleasure that shoots straight between your legs.

You let out a broken moan, hips twitching helplessly as he switches to the other breast, giving it the same devoted attention. His tongue is relentless now, licking and flicking, then sucking harder, cheeks hollowing as he draws your nipple deeper into his mouth. Every pull sends sparks racing through your body, making your thighs shake and your core throb with empty need.

“Felix…” you whimper, the name slipping out like a prayer. “Felix- please…”

You’re quickly turning into an incoherent mess beneath him. Your hands fist tighter in his soft blonde hair, back arching desperately into his mouth as he alternates between slow, teasing licks and deep, hungry sucks. The wet sounds of his mouth on your skin fill the room, mixing with your ragged breathing and quiet, needy whines.

He groans softly against your breast, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through you. His free hand keeps kneading the other side, thumb rolling your neglected nipple while his mouth works you over. He’s completely lost in it, eyes half-lidded, that sweet blush still coloring his cheeks, completely focused on every sound you make and every twitch of your body.

It starts to hurt in the best way. The ache between your legs is unbearable now, slick, swollen, and pulsing with no relief. Every suck and lick only makes the emptiness worse.

“Felix- please,” you beg, voice cracking, hips rolling up against nothing. “It hurts… I need- I need you to touch me. Please, I can’t- ah- please…”

Your words dissolve into another whimper as he sucks particularly hard, tongue flicking rapidly over your nipple before he pulls back just enough to look at you. His lips are swollen and glistening, eyes dark with heat but still so gentle underneath it all.

His lips are swollen and glistening, eyes dark with heat but still so gentle underneath it all.

“Where do you want me?” he asks, voice rough and breathless, that deep Australian accent thicker than ever. His hand slides slowly down your stomach, fingertips brushing just above the waistband of your pants, waiting for your answer. “Tell me, love. I’ll give you anything you need.”

You’re too far gone to be shy anymore.

Your hand flies down, grabbing his wrist and guiding him lower, pressing his palm firmly between your legs over your pants. The heat of his hand alone makes you moan, hips bucking up into the touch desperately.

“There- please, Felix, right there,” you gasp, voice breaking. “I’m so wet… it hurts. Touch me. Please.”

Felix’s breath catches sharply. For a split second his eyes widen, that sweet blush deepening across his cheeks, but the surprise quickly melts into something darker, hungrier. He doesn’t hesitate.

He cups you fully through your pants, pressing the heel of his palm against your clit with just enough pressure to make your back arch violently off the bed. A broken cry escapes you as he starts rubbing slow, firm circles, the fabric dragging deliciously against your swollen, soaked folds.

“Fuck… you really are soaked,” he murmurs, voice low and awed. He leans down again, mouth latching onto your nipple once more, sucking hard while his hand works between your legs with growing confidence. “All this for me? Just from my mouth?”

You can only nod frantically, incoherent whimpers spilling from your lips as he increases the pressure, grinding the heel of his palm against your clit while his fingers press along your slit through the damp fabric. Every stroke sends sharp waves of pleasure crashing through you, making your thighs tremble and your hips chase his hand desperately.

The line is definitely being crossed now, fast and intense.

Felix shifts lower, kissing and biting down your stomach as he goes, his free hand quickly unbuttoning your pants and tugging the zipper down. He doesn’t pull them off completely yet, he just slides his hand inside, past the waistband of your panties, until his fingers finally meet your bare, dripping heat.

The first direct touch makes you both moan.

“Shit, you’re dripping,” he groans against your skin, voice thick with disbelief and lust. His fingers glide through your slick folds, circling your clit with perfect pressure before dipping lower to tease your entrance. “So warm… so fucking wet for me.”

He pushes one finger inside you slowly, carefully, curling it gently as his thumb keeps working your clit in tight, steady circles. The stretch is perfect, the relief immediate, but it only makes you need more.

You’re writhing beneath him now, one hand tangled in his messy blonde hair, the other gripping his shoulder hard enough to leave marks. His name falls from your lips like a chant; “Felix, Felix, please-”, louder and more desperate with every thrust of his finger.

It’s dizzying.

You haven’t felt this much pleasure in so long that it almost overwhelms you. Every curl of his finger, every stroke of his thumb sends sparks shooting through your body, making your head spin and your vision blur at the edges. The sensation is almost too much, way too intense, too good, but you love it. You crave it. Your body has been starved for this kind of attentive touch for years, and now it’s drinking in every second like it’s dying of thirst.

Felix looks completely entranced.

His dark eyes are fixed on your face, drinking in every flutter of your lashes, every broken moan, every desperate roll of your hips. His cheeks are flushed deep pink, lips parted, breathing ragged as he watches you fall apart under his hand.

Without breaking eye contact, he shifts lower on the bed. His free hand hooks into the waistband of your pants and panties together and tugs them down your legs in one smooth motion, finally pulling them off completely and tossing them aside.

When he sees you, fully bare, glistening, and soaked for him, he actually freezes for a second. His gaze drops between your legs, pupils blown so wide his eyes look almost black. A soft, stunned sound escapes him, almost like a whimper.

“Fuck…” he breathes, voice hoarse and reverent.

He looks like he’s practically drooling, tongue darting out to wet his lips as he stares, completely mesmerized by the sight of your slick folds and the way your entrance clenches around nothing.

Before he can even form another thought, your fingers tighten in his soft blonde hair and you tug him down gently but firmly, guiding his face exactly where you need him.

Felix’s eyes go wide with surprise, a soft, startled “oh-” slipping from his lips. For half a second he looks almost shy, like he didn’t expect you to be so bold. But the surprise quickly melts into pure, eager excitement. His breath hitches, and a bright, boyish smile flashes across his face for just a moment, sweet and hungry at the same time.

“Yeah?” he whispers, voice rough with want but still so gentle. “You want my mouth on you?”

He doesn’t wait for a verbal answer. The second you nod, he settles between your thighs. His hands slide under your ass, lifting you slightly as he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss right against your dripping core.

The first long, slow lick of his tongue makes your back arch sharply off the bed and a loud, broken moan tear from your throat.

Felix moans against you, the vibration shooting straight through your clit. He’s enthusiastic and attentive, licking broad stripes through your folds before focusing on your clit, sucking it gently into his mouth while his tongue flicks in perfect little patterns. He’s clearly loving every second, soft, happy sounds escaping him as he tastes you, eyes fluttering shut in bliss before opening again to watch your reactions.

He eats you out like he’s been waiting for this moment, like making you feel good is the only thing that matters in the world right now.

Your head is spinning even harder now, pleasure crashing over you in heavy waves. The dizziness mixes with pure ecstasy as Felix’s tongue works you over, slow and thorough one moment, then faster and more focused the next, completely lost in the taste of you and the sounds you’re making.

He’s so into it.

Felix moans openly against your core, the sound low and happy, like he can’t get enough of how you taste. His tongue laps at you with genuine hunger,  broad, wet strokes through your slick folds, then circling your clit before sucking it back into his mouth with perfect, rhythmic pressure. Every soft, pleased hum that vibrates against you tells you he’s loving this just as much as you are.

Without even thinking about it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he slides two fingers back inside you. The stretch is sudden and perfect, curling immediately against that sensitive spot deep inside while his tongue keeps working your clit in tight, relentless circles.

The combination nearly sends you over the edge right there.

A sharp, broken cry rips from your throat as the pleasure spikes hard and fast. Your hips buck against his face, thighs trembling around his head. The intensity is almost too much, dizzying waves of heat rolling through you, building so quickly you can barely breathe.

Your hand tightens in his soft blonde hair, tugging harder than you meant to as your body jerks with overwhelming sensation.

The tug pulls a delicious, guttural moan from Felix. The sound vibrates straight against your clit, deep and needy, making your walls clench hard around his fingers. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, the hair tug seems to spur him on, his fingers thrust a little deeper, curling perfectly with every stroke, while his tongue flicks faster over your swollen clit.

It’s too much.

The coil in your belly snaps without warning.

You come hard, a sharp, broken cry tearing from your throat as the orgasm crashes over you in blinding waves. Your back arches violently off the bed, thighs clamping around his head as your walls flutter and pulse around his fingers. Pleasure explodes through every nerve, white-hot and overwhelming, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.

It’s not just release,  it’s pure, shattering ecstasy. Years of feeling nothing, of lying there disconnected and unsatisfied, are obliterated in seconds. Your whole body shakes, hips jerking against his mouth as you ride the high, slick heat flooding his tongue.

Felix doesn’t stop.

He stays right there, completely lost in a trance, like he physically can’t pull himself away from you. His fingers keep thrusting slowly through every spasm, curling against that perfect spot to drag the orgasm out longer. His tongue never leaves your clit, licking slower now, but still hungry, still devoted, tasting every drop of you as you come undone.

He moans loudly against your core, the vibrations prolonging the aftershocks, eyes fluttering shut in bliss as he drinks you in. Soft, happy, almost greedy sounds escape him while he works you through it, savoring the way you tremble and clench around him.

You’re gasping, whimpering, completely overwhelmed. The pleasure keeps rolling through you in long, powerful waves, far more intense and drawn-out than anything your body has ever experienced. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the sheer intensity of it. Your fingers stay tangled tight in his blonde hair, holding him there as your hips twitch with every lingering lick.

Felix finally slows only when your trembling starts to ease, but even then he doesn’t pull away completely. He presses one last, slow, open-mouthed kiss to your oversensitive clit, then gently slides his fingers out of you, replacing them with soft, soothing licks to help you come down.

When he finally lifts his head, his lips and chin are glistening with you, cheeks flushed deep red, eyes dark and hazy with lust. His messy blonde hair is even more tousled from your grip. He looks drunk on you; breathing hard, that sweet, boyish smile tugging at his wet lips even through the heat.

You’re completely fucked out.

Your body feels heavy and boneless, every limb buzzing with lingering pleasure. Your head is fuzzy and dizzy, like you’re floating in warm honey. Tears have built up in your eyes from the sheer intensity of it all, a few slipping down your temples as you try to catch your breath. You’ve never come that hard, never felt anything even close to this overwhelming wave of pleasure. It’s left you dazed, overwhelmed in the best way.

Felix’s expression shifts the second he really looks at you.

The hazy lust softens into gentle concern. His eyes widen slightly, that sweet, worried look crossing his face as he quickly moves up the bed, hovering over you without putting any weight on your body. One hand comes up to gently cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear with incredible tenderness.

“Hey… hey,” he murmurs, voice still a little rough but now wrapped in soft worry. “Are you okay? Did I go too far? You’re crying-”

You shake your head hazily, a small, breathless smile tugging at your lips even though your thoughts are still fuzzy and slow.

“No… it was perfect,” you whisper, voice hoarse and trembling. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

Relief washes over his face, but the concern doesn’t fully leave. 

Before you can even think about it, habit kicks in. You start to push yourself up on shaky arms, instinctively moving to clean up like you always had to before. 

Felix stops you immediately, one gentle hand on your shoulder guiding you back down onto the pillows. He looks almost offended, brows furrowing in that adorable, protective way.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” he says softly, that deep Australian accent warm and firm at the same time. “No, no, no. Lie back down. That’s my job.”

He shifts beside you, one arm sliding carefully under your shoulders to pull you against his chest. His free hand reaches for the tissues on the nightstand, but he doesn’t hand them to you. Instead, he gently wipes your thighs and between your legs himself, slow, careful strokes, making sure you’re comfortable without a single hint of impatience.

“You don’t have to do anything right now,” he murmurs, his voice so gentle it makes your chest ache in a different way. “You just came really hard. Let me take care of you, yeah? That’s what I want to do.”

He finishes cleaning you up with the same devoted attention he gave when he was between your legs, then suddenly gets up.

You watch him through half-lidded, still-dizzy eyes, your body heavy and warm. A shy little thought bubbles up, and before you can overthink it, you murmur softly, voice still hoarse,

“Do you… need help too? Or…?”

Felix pauses mid-step, his back to you for a second. He lets out a small, embarrassed laugh and rubs the back of his neck, that familiar bashful gesture.

“I already…” He stops himself mid-sentence, cheeks flushing even deeper than before. “Ah, never mind.”

Curiosity wins. You push yourself up slightly on your elbows and glance down.

There it is, a very obvious wet spot darkening the front of his pants, the fabric clinging slightly to him. He came just from eating you out. No touching himself, no grinding against you, just from your taste, your sounds, and the way you fell apart on his tongue.

He clears his throat and gestures awkwardly toward the hallway.

“I’m gonna go clean up real quick. Stay right there, okay? Don’t move.”

You nod, still floating in that fuzzy, post-orgasm glow, and watch him disappear into the bathroom.

Minutes pass. Longer than you expected for a quick cleanup. You’re just starting to wonder if he’s okay when a delicious smell drifts into the room, warm, savory, comforting. Something frying, maybe garlic and butter?

The bathroom door opens again. Felix comes back wearing the sweatpants and black t-shirt that you stole from your brother and now lended him, hair still damp and messy from a quick rinse. In his hands he’s carrying a plate with scrambled eggs, toast, and some leftover takeout noodles he must have reheated. There’s even a glass of water and a small bowl of fruit on the side.

He looks a little shy as he approaches the bed, but his eyes are warm and caring again.

“I figured you might be hungry after… everything,” he says softly, sitting on the edge of the bed and setting the plate carefully on your lap. “You haven’t eaten much today, right? And crying plus… that… probably burned a lot of energy.”

He scratches the back of his neck again, cheeks still faintly pink.

“I know it’s not fancy, but it’s quick and warm. Eat as much as you want, yeah? I’ll get you more if you need it.”

He settles beside you, one hand gently rubbing your back in slow circles while you pick at the food. The smell is comforting, the gesture so unexpectedly sweet that it makes your chest feel tight in the best way.

Every bite tastes better than it should. The quiet clink of the fork, the steady warmth of his palm on your back, the way he occasionally glances at you to make sure you’re actually eating, it all feels so… safe.

Too safe.

You eat in comfortable silence for a while, but something heavy starts settling in your chest. This moment is perfect. Too perfect. The way he’s taking care of you, the soft smile he gives when you murmur a quiet “thank you,” the way his damp hair curls at the ends… you’re enjoying it more than you should.

He was only supposed to be the nice stranger who helped you through one bad night.

Not this.

Not someone who makes scrambled eggs at 2 a.m. and looks at you like you’re worth the trouble.

You swallow another bite, but it suddenly feels harder to get down. Your eyes flick to him again, to the gentle slope of his shoulders, the freckles across his nose, the way he’s still quietly rubbing your back like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

This can’t last.

Tomorrow the real world will come back. The breakup. The loneliness. The fear that you’re too broken for anyone to actually want to stay. Felix was just being kind. He saw a girl crying in his room and did what any decent person would do.

You’re already getting attached to something that was never meant to be yours.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

WARNINGS: smut, masturbation (f + m), hair pulling, slight choking (not rough), they masturbate in front of each other, post-nut clarity, cum ingestion, reader likes noisy men!! (YES YOU)

Felix was the one you considered your best friend in the entire world, despite having seven other good friends. You and Felix just clicked. Maybe it was because he'd stay up playing video games with you, or make you late-night desserts even though you both agree you shouldn't be allowed to have snacks after 11 pm. Or maybe it was the fact that you found him the cutest out of the eight, making him the easiest to tease. (The insane cuteness aggression you get)

The apartment was unusually quiet today, the kind of silence that felt rare in a space usually filled with chaotic laughter, competitive yelling from game nights, or the general commotion of eight boys who all somehow coexisted without killing each other. But tonight, it was just you and Felix, sprawled on the couch, tangled in a way you both swore no one else would ever find out about.

Somehow, you were always falling for Felix's lures, agreeing to the "no telling" pact after Felix hit you with those wide, pleading eyes. It was unfair, honestly. A weaponized look that had no business being as effective as it was.

“Just this once,” you had muttered at the time, already knowing you were lying. It was never just once with Felix.

And now, here you were; his head resting on your chest, your fingers weaving lazily through the soft strands of his black hair. His eyes were half-lidded but determinedly focused on the anime playing in front of you, though he was obviously on the verge of dozing off. His long, delicate fingers absentmindedly traced light patterns along your arm, the subtle scratching oddly soothing.

“Don't fall asleep, Lix," you teased quietly, though the warmth of your voice lacked any real scolding. "You're gonna miss the three episodes of filler!”

“M’not,” he mumbled, voice heavy with exhaustion. But the way his body melted further into yours suggested otherwise.

A soft laugh escaped you. “Sure, sure. Just resting your eyes, hm?”

Felix hummed in contentment, clearly too comfortable to argue. "You’re a good... head massager," he admitted with a lazy grin, though it quickly faded into something softer as he shifted his head slightly, nuzzling closer without a care.

You knew this was dangerous territory, the kind of scene the other boys would never let either of you live down. Hyunjin would tease Felix mercilessly for his "puppy syndrome," and Chan would probably lose it at the idea that you of all people caved to cuddling. No, this would definitely remain a secret.

Your fingers slid into his hair, your nails gently scratching his scalp as Felix let out a soft, pleased hum. It was barely a sound, but the scratch of his voice sent a strange flutter through your chest, one you couldn’t quite place. He shifted slightly against you, his body curling closer as if he were trying to burrow into your warmth.

"That feels so good," he murmured, his voice low and sleepy. Another noise escaped him; a quiet, deep sound of contentment that shouldn’t have meant anything but, for some reason, made the air feel a little heavier. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse picked up. It was just Felix. Your best friend. Nothing weird about this.

But as his quiet little noises continued, your hands faltered. The sound; it wasn’t wrong, exactly, but it felt… intimate in a way you weren’t used to, like you were overhearing something private. You hesitated, your fingers slowing to a stop as you tried to collect yourself.

Felix stirred, a small whine escaping him as he looked up at you through heavy-lidded eyes. “Why’d you stop?” he mumbled, the tiniest pout forming on his lips. “It was nice.”

You laughed nervously, your hand hovering above his head. “I don’t know. Just… thought you were about to fall asleep.”

“I wasn’t.” He yawned, completely ruining his point, before nudging his head against your chest again. “Please? Just a little more?” His voice was so soft, so innocent, that you felt ridiculous for overthinking it.

Still, when you started again, something about it felt different. His little hums of satisfaction grew deeper, quieter, like they were traveling straight to your core and wrapping themselves around your nerves. It heightened your awareness of everything; the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of his head on your chest, the way his hand idly traced your arm.

You swallowed hard and quickly adjusted, opting to rake your fingers through his hair instead. It felt safer somehow, less intimate than the slow, deliberate scratches. Felix didn’t seem to mind, his eyes fluttering shut again as he relaxed fully against you.

“Better?” you asked softly, hoping your voice sounded steadier than you felt.

“Mhm,” he murmured, his lips tugging into a small, sleepy smile. “You’re the best.”

Your stomach flipped, and you had to bite back a groan. This was Felix. Just Felix. So why did you like these sounds so much? Why did you want so badly to tug on his hair to see what sound he'd make? You couldn't boil this down to just 'cuteness aggression', it sounded way too perverted in your head to be left at that.

You could only blame your curiosity, the sudden urge to explore what other sounds you could get out of him. Would he whine if you pulled his hair a bit harder? Would he moan if you lightly dragged your nails across the sensitive spot on his head? The thoughts raced through your mind, a whirlwind of possibilities that shouldn’t have been so exciting, yet they were.

You clenched your jaw, willing the thoughts away as shame crawled up your neck. Your hands stilled in his hair, fingers frozen mid-motion. You needed to stop before your imagination ran even wilder.

Felix's body tensed against yours, his head shifting slightly as he let out a pitiful whine. “Nooo,” he protested softly, his voice coated in drowsy frustration. His sleepy eyes blinked open, glassy and pleading. “Don’t stop,” he begged, barely above a whisper. “Please? Feels nice...”

That voice, low and soft, made your already frayed nerves snap. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, the way your breath caught at how needy he sounded. But it only got worse when he used those eyes again, wide and shimmering with earnest desperation, pulling at you in ways that felt dangerous.

You should have ignored him. You should have laughed it off and told him to watch the show. But you didn’t. Instead, your fingers clenched reflexively, twisting gently into his hair without thinking.

Felix gasped softly, his body jerking slightly at the sudden tug. A quiet, breathy sound slipped from his lips, half a moan, half a whimper; and it undid you. Your pulse raced, heat flaring in your chest and spreading like wildfire as you struggled to keep your composure.

Felix’s eyes widened, the sleepy haze lifting just enough for curiosity to spark in their depths. His lips parted slightly as if processing the situation in slow motion, the sharp tug, your face burning up, the way your breathing had quickened ever so subtly.

A sudden realization flickered across his expression, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The anime played in the background, completely forgotten now.

"Did- did you like that??"

Fuck.

He caught on.

You didn't know what to say, your mouth opening and closing several times.

"You...you did," he whispered, more a statement than a question, his voice thick with disbelief.

"Lix-" you started, not sure where to go.

"Do it again," he urged, his eyes settling on your face, his soft hands reaching up to rest on your shoulders .

"Again??" You squeaked, feeling embarrassed at how turned on you were getting.

"Please, just..." he bit his lip, and oh god, that wasn't helping at all. "...please."

Felix was your best friend, but you like the sounds of his voice and his little moans a little too much to risk it.

The embarrassment burned under your skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to tell him no. Slowly, cautiously, you curled your fingers into his hair, the same way you'd done earlier. Only this time, you tugged harder, letting the strands slide between your fingers.

Felix's breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping him as his head tilted back, his eyes slipping shut. "Oh..." he whispered, his voice breathy and strained. He bit his lip again, the sight nearly undoing you.

"Lix," you said, the word coming out hoarse. "I-"

"Don't stop," he breathed, his hands gripping your shoulders a little tighter. "Just- just one more time."

Your fingers tightened into his hair, tugging a little harder this time. Felix's mouth fell open, a moan slipping free as his eyes fluttered opened, dark and unfocused. "Oh, fuck," he groaned, his cheeks burning red. He was looking at you with such raw, shameless desire that you didn't know how to handle it. You were pretty sure you were shaking.

You could feel the now drenched fabric of your panties clinging to you, your entire body thrumming with need. Felix's body was warm and solid, his grip on you desperate as your leg experimentally lifted. You could feel his length pressing into your leg, his need becoming clear.

Felix’s body went rigid as he suddenly snapped out of his tired, needy trance, his flushed face contorting with embarrassment. He sucked in a sharp breath, his wide eyes flickering downward before realization hit him like a truck.

“Oh—uh, sorry—” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scrambled to pull away from you. His movements were jerky, frantic, as though physical distance could erase the undeniable evidence of his body's reaction. He stood up too quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet.

You blinked, still caught in the haze of heated confusion. “Wait-” you pleaded instinctively, reaching out to catch his wrist before he could escape.

“I can’t,” he muttered, shaking his head as though trying to clear it. His face was bright red, the tips of his ears burning. “I—I shouldn’t—I mean—this is just—”

“Felix,” you interrupted softly, your voice steadier than you felt. Your grip on his wrist tightened just enough to keep him from bolting. “Don’t… don’t go.”

“I—” He bit his lower lip, clearly at war with himself, torn between wanting to vanish into thin air and staying despite the mortifying situation. His breathing was shallow, uneven, and you could tell how desperately he was trying to regain control.

You swallowed hard, heart pounding so violently it was a wonder he couldn’t hear it. Heat crawled up your neck as words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them. “You don’t have to go,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. “I mean… if you want to stay.”

Felix blinked at you, bewildered. “Stay?” he repeated dumbly, his voice cracking again.

“I—” You faltered, embarrassment knotting your stomach. The logical part of your brain screamed at you to shut up, to take the out he was clearly offering, but something raw and primal clawed its way to the surface instead. “You can… um...” You hesitated, heat flooding your face. “If it helps—if you need to—you can... do it here. In front of me.”

The moment the words left your mouth, your heart stopped. The weight of what you'd just said hung heavy in the room, your own embarrassment threatening to swallow you whole. You couldn’t even look at him.

“What?” Felix’s voice cracked, his eyes going impossibly wide. “Wait—are you saying—do you want me to—”

“I don’t know...” you blurted out, mortified beyond belief but too far gone to stop now. “I just—” You exhaled shakily, words fumbling over themselves in your mouth. “I liked hearing you, I shouldn’t have, but I did, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Felix’s breath hitched audibly. He stared at you, his expression shifting between disbelief, awe, and something far more intense than either of you had expected to find in this situation.

“You liked it,” he repeated softly, almost like he couldn’t believe it.

“I can’t help it,” you admitted, your voice barely steady. “I’m sorry, it’s just—I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

There was a long, heavy pause. Felix’s gaze flickered between your face and the hand still wrapped around his wrist. His lips parted, words catching in his throat before he finally spoke again.

“Just this once?” he asked quietly, like he was reassuring himself as much as you.

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. “Yeah,” you murmured, barely managing to get the word out. “Just this once.”

Felix’s body trembled slightly, but he didn’t pull away. Slowly, cautiously, he sat back down beside you, his breath uneven as if he were standing at the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to jump or not.

But he leaned back, looking forward as if he was trying to pretend you weren't staring holes into him. Then his hands moved, closing his eyes as his hand slowly went to his bulge, his breath hitching. You could hear the sound of the fabric shifting and his hips slowly rolled.

The sounds were enough to have you weak, your face feeling like it's on fire, the way he moaned and breathed out made you even more excited. He was enjoying it, enjoying the feeling of the fabric rubbing against him.

It was as if your knees felt a magnetic force, you were drawn to the way his hips rolled and the sounds. It was a good thing he had his eyes closed or he would have seen the way you fell off of the couch onto the floor, the way you crawled over to him was embarrassing, but the urge was too strong.

You settled on your knees between his legs, the new position giving you a much better view of the show. His fingers curled into the couch cushion, his body tense and shuddering. You could hear his ragged breaths, the subtle groans as his hips rocked against his hand.

You wanted more. You wanted to hear more. You wanted to see more. The realization washed over you, your pulse throbbing in your ears. Without thinking, you reached forward, resting a hand on his knee.

Felix froze, his eyes snapping open, his face flushed. His gaze drifted to the hand on his knee and then up to your face. He blinked a few times, his lips parted in surprise. You felt like a deer caught in headlights. You had no idea why you did that. Your hand trembled against his knee, a mixture of guilt and shame and something else twisting in your gut.

Before you could pull away, his hand moved. His fingers tangled in yours, holding your hand firmly against his knee. He took a deep, shaky breath, his eyes dark and full of something that looked dangerously close to want.

You were paralyzed. Stuck in place, frozen, unable to move.

Felix bit his lip, his gaze unwavering. His free hand went back to his bulge, his fingers curling over the outline of his cock. His hips jerked slightly, a breathy gasp slipping past his lips.

Then, his eyes met yours, and your heart stopped. Something sparked in his gaze, something so intense that you felt yourself tremble.

Without breaking eye contact, he began to roll his hips again, a low groan rumbling in his chest. His hand gripped the base of his shaft, fingers sliding along his length through his pants. You couldn't look away. The sight was overwhelming, almost too much, but you couldn't look away.

His hand left yours and moved up to the hem of his shirt, hiking it up to expose his bare stomach, the muscles flexing with every movement. You swallowed hard, transfixed by the way his abs contracted and relaxed, the way his breath quickened and grew heavier.

Felix bit his lower lip, his brows furrowing, his gaze darkening as his free hand slid up his abdomen. He brushed his fingers over his nipple, his lips parting, a strained moan escaping him. He pinched and twisted his nipple, the sensation shooting through his nerves and straight to his cock.

You watched as he slowly brought his pants and boxers down enough to expose his erection. Just the sight of it made your core pulse. He was bigger than you thought he would be. And you could feel yourself tingling, desperate for friction, almost numb just from watching him.

Felix groaned, his head falling back as his fingers wrapped around his cock. He gave a few slow, experimental strokes, his hips thrusting slightly. The sound of his hand moving over his cock sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

You were completely hypnotized by the sight of him. You so badly wanted to hold it in your hand yourself, but you knew that'd be crossing a line, the very same line you were currently dancing on the edge of.

Your hands wandered, your fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts and the top of your underwear. Your fingers grazed your sensitive flesh and you whimpered, your hips jerking reflexively. It would be so embarrassing if he found out you were touching yourself because of him, but that thought only made you want to do it even more.

Felix moaned, his eyes fluttering open. His gaze landed on you and his breath caught. Watching how your eyes were transfixed on his cock, his hand moving teasingly slow, making sure you could see everything.

He was mesmerized by the way you looked, and how aroused you looked just by watching him, he felt a rush of pride knowing that he was the one making you look that way. His fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him as his movements sped up, his chest heaving.

"You like watching me, hm?" he asked, his voice deep and raspy, his accent strong and hitting your ears in a different way.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You were too far gone to speak. Instead, you nodded, whimpering quietly.

He chuckled softly, his eyes darkening. "Fuck, that's so hot," he groaned, his gaze flickering over your body, drinking in the sight of you. "I wanna make a mess on that pretty face of yours."

Your heart pounded, the words sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. You couldn't stop yourself, you moaned, the sound surprising both of you. Felix groaned, his cock twitching in his hand, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

You were getting so close, and it had never happened this fast in your life. The sight of his cock, the sounds he was making, the way he was staring at you; it was too much. Your hand moved faster, your fingers dipping into your aching cunt and brushing against your clit. You gasped, your hips jerking involuntarily.

Felix's eyes widened, his gaze flickering between your face and your hand. He sucked in a sharp breath, his jaw clenching.

"Are you... are you touching yourself?"

His words hit you like a slap. Your eyes snapped open, your face burning with shame. But before you could say anything, his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging roughly.

"Don't stop," he hissed.

"But-"

"Just keep going," he urged, his voice low and husky. "I want to watch, too."

Your stomach flipped. He wanted to watch you? You moaned in response, your fingers stilling inside of you. Your body shook, the intensity of his gaze too much for you to handle. You closed your eyes, trying to ground yourself, but it didn't help.

His hand stilled, his fingers moving back to its grip on your chin. "Keep going, keep looking at me."

And before you could think about how embarrassed you'd be later, your fingers started moving again, his gaze searing into you. You couldn't breathe, your body trembling as his hand moved faster. You were so close, so painfully close. You gasped, arching into your touch.

Felix groaned, his head falling back. "Fuck, just like that."

His words went straight to your core. You could feel yourself pulsing, the pressure building. Your hand moved faster, the sensations flooding your body. Your hips bucked against your hand, a broken moan slipping past your lips.

Felix's gaze locked with yours, watching your every movement, your every expression. He could tell you were much closer than he was, but he seemed to love it all.

He watched your face, taking in every detail, committing them to memory. He was mesmerized, captivated, entranced. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you. The sight of you, the sound of your breathing, the way you moaned and shuddered; it was intoxicating.

You were right on the edge, your orgasm building rapidly. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, threatening to snap at any moment. Your hips jerked against your hand, your fingers frantically moving over your clit.

"Lixie... I can't-" you moaned, the sound coming out strangled and desperate.

Felix's gaze flickered over your face, taking in every inch. His jaw clenched, his lips parting. He let out a low groan, the sound echoing in your ears.

"Cum for me," he commanded, his voice rough and breathless. "Cum for me and I'll cum all over that pretty face of yours."

The words sent a shiver down your spine. Your whole body shuddered, heat flooding your veins. You gasped, arching into your hand. Your hips bucked against the couch, the tension building rapidly.

Your orgasm crashed over you, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You cried out, your eyes screwing shut. You couldn't control the sounds that spilled from your mouth, a mixture of moans and cries and curses.

Felix's eyes widened, his gaze fixed on you. He watched every detail, his eyes glazed over with lust. He watched as you came undone, his lips parted, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. He groaned, his cock throbbing, precum dripping onto his hand.

"Fuck, that's hot," he murmured, his voice low and breathless.

You could barely catch your breath, your chest heaving. You couldn't stop trembling, your body overwhelmed by the intensity of your orgasm. You whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

Felix's grip on your chin loosened, his fingers gently brushing across your cheek. His thumb brushed over your lips, the tender gesture sending a shiver down your spine.

"Such a good girl," he whispered, his tone affectionate and almost loving.

The words made your heart skip a beat.

But then his hand traveled down, wrapping around your neck and pulling you closer. You gasped, your eyes fluttering shut. His grip was firm but gentle, his fingers digging into the soft skin.

"Look at me," he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

You obeyed without question, your eyes opening, meeting his.

Felix groaned, his gaze darkening, his lips parting. "God, that's so hot," he breathed, his cock twitching in his hand.

You couldn't look away, couldn't take your eyes off of him. You could feel the heat in your face, the flush creeping up your neck. He was beautiful, so fucking beautiful, and the sight of him made your heart race.

His hand moved faster, his breathing ragged, his gaze intense. He was so close, his body tensing, his hips bucking. He moaned, his eyes fluttering shut, his fingers tightening around your neck.

You couldn't stop your mouth from opening, slightly letting your tongue fall out. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you what a bad idea this was, but you didn't care.

Felix's eyes opened, his gaze locking with yours. He groaned, his hips jerking, his body trembling. His breathy and somewhat cute moans got louder as his hips rolled and bucked, his hand moving faster and faster.

He was getting close. So, so close. His body shuddered, his cock throbbing. He gasped, his grip on your neck tightening, his body going rigid. His eyes screwed shut, his lips parting. A shudder rippled through him, his orgasm crashing over him.

You couldn't take your eyes off of him. He was so beautiful, so perfect. The way his face twisted in pleasure, the way his chest heaved, the way his lips parted. You were mesmerized, captivated, entranced. You couldn't tear your eyes away.

And then, he opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours. He moaned, his cock twitching. A thick, warm stream of cum landed on your face, splattering across your face and tongue. You couldn't look away, couldn't think straight.

His grip loosened on you as he laid back on the couch, his eyes drifting closed. You were frozen in place, stunned, unable to move. His cum dripped down your cheek, his taste lingering on your tongue.

It wasn't until Felix was completely spent that you came to, snapping out of your trance. Your face was burning, the heat crawling up your neck, your ears turning pink. You could feel his cum slowly sliding down your cheek, the sensation strange and foreign.

"Oh, shit."

You flinched at the sound of his voice, his eyes fluttering open.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I should've-"

Before he could continue, you swallowed the cum that was pooling in your mouth. You could feel it running down your cheek, leaving a trail of warmth on your skin.

Felix's eyes were wide, his cheeks flushed red.

You could feel yourself blush, embarrassment flooding your veins. You could feel his cum, still warm and sticky, clinging to your face. The feeling was unfamiliar and strange, but not unpleasant.

Felix cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away.

"I should- uh- I'll just go clean up."

You couldn't speak, couldn't move. You couldn't even look at him.

The two of you sat in silence, the tension heavy and awkward. Neither of you knew what to say, what to do. Neither of you had ever imagined this happening, and now, here you were.

"I'll... see you later."

You could hear his footsteps, the sound growing distant as he left the room.

And that was it.

You were alone, his cum still on your face. You felt a wave of shame, of guilt, of embarrassment. You started this, you asked your own best friend to do that in front of you, and you came in front of him, even worse to the thought of him.

You wanted to cry, to scream, to hide. You couldn't look at him again, you couldn't stand the thought of facing him, but you couldn't stay here.

You rushed to your feet, your legs shaking. You ran into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You stood there, in front of the mirror, staring at your reflection.

You looked like a mess, like a disaster, a fucking wreck. Your hair was a mess, your face covered in cum, your shirt slightly tucked into your pants.

Things had just changed.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

filthy warnings : fingering (f rec.), softdom!felix, ingestion of ... yk, dirty talk, gentle + rough iykwim

By the time you finally trudged through the front door, the weight of the day clung to your shoulders like a storm cloud. You kicked off your shoes with a heavy sigh, already craving the comfort you knew was waiting for you upstairs. The house was dim and quiet, but the faint hum of the TV from your room guided you like a beacon.

Felix was there, sprawled across your bed as if he belonged to it, head propped up on his hand. His soft blond hair fell over his forehead, catching the glow of the lamp, and the instant his eyes met yours, you felt the knots in your chest loosen. “Hey, love,” he murmured, voice warm, like he’d been waiting just for you.

You didn’t even bother with pleasantries; you dropped your bag to the floor and collapsed beside him, burying your face into the sheets. He chuckled under his breath and shifted, his free hand immediately finding its way to your hair, combing through the strands with slow, tender strokes.

“So,” he said quietly, not pushing, just inviting, “rough day?”

The sound of his voice cracked something in you open, and words tumbled out before you could stop them. You told him about your boss, the endless nitpicking, the unreasonable deadlines, the way you felt like you were running in circles just to stay afloat. You vented about the co-worker who kept getting on your nerves, about how you skipped lunch just to keep up, about how all you wanted at the end of it was to scream into the void.

Through it all, Felix never interrupted. His gaze stayed on you, steady and unwavering, like you were the only thing in the world worth listening to. His thumb brushed gently at your temple as his fingers threaded through your hair, and by the time you were done, the tension had faded from your shoulders and the exhaustion was slowly starting to bleed away.

You let out a long breath and melted into his touch, nuzzling your cheek against the warmth of his palm. The steady rhythm of his fingers in your hair was enough to make your eyelids flutter, the heaviness of the day easing in ways you didn’t think possible.

Felix’s smile softened as he looked down at you, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone like he was tracing the outline of his favorite masterpiece. “My poor angel, you’re so stressed.” His voice was low and tender, the kind of tone that wrapped around you like a blanket. Before you could even respond, he leaned down and began pressing soft kisses across your forehead, your cheeks, the tip of your nose. Each kiss was slow, deliberate, as though he wanted to remind you with every brush of his lips that you were cherished, safe, and adored.

You laughed weakly, the sound muffled as he kissed your temple again and again, and then down toward your jaw. “Felix...” you murmured, but your protest dissolved into a sigh when he trailed his lips along the curve of your neck.

“Let me take care of you,” he whispered against your skin. “Let me relieve some of your stress.”

You blinked up at him, tired and a little dazed, assuming he meant what he usually did, offering one of his soothing back rubs or rubbing the knots from your legs until you melted into sleep. “Okay,” you agreed quietly, nuzzling into his chest, too drained to question him further.

Felix’s lips curved into the faintest smile at your sleepy agreement, and he kissed the corner of your forehead before shifting you gently onto your back. The mattress dipped with his weight as he moved beside you, his hand never leaving your skin. His touch trailed slowly from your temple down to your shoulder, his fingertips brushing the curve of your collarbone before slipping lower, over the fabric of your shirt.

“Good,” he murmured, almost to himself, as though he were already planning exactly how to unravel every last thread of tension inside you. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your jaw, then another just beneath your ear, his breath warm as he whispered, “So good.”

Your body sank into the bed, pliant under his touch as he began gliding his palms in long, steady motions along your sides. At first, it felt like the familiar beginning of one of his massages, the kind you’d come to rely on after grueling days. His thumbs kneaded softly into your shoulders, coaxing out the knots, and you let out a small sigh at the relief that rippled through you.

“That’s it,” he praised softly, his voice low, his accent curling around the words in a way that made them sink deeper. “Just relax my angel.” His hands roamed lower, down the slope of your waist, his fingers brushing your hips before sliding back up to the curve of your ribs. Every movement was slow, intentional, lingering long enough to make heat coil beneath your skin.

You shifted, a flush creeping into your cheeks at the way your body responded, but he only pressed another kiss to your temple, steady and patient. “So good for me,” he whispered, his lips moving against your skin. “You work so hard, and you don’t get enough recognition.”

His hands moved again, tracing down your thighs this time, firm enough to ease the ache in your muscles but gentle enough that goosebumps chased after his touch. He hummed quietly, as though lost in the rhythm of taking care of you, his mouth brushing soft kisses over every inch of exposed skin he could reach; your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your lips.

Your mind began to slip, the world growing hazy and distant, and all that existed were his hands and his lips and his voice, soothing and gentle. He eased his way between your thighs, nudging them apart until you parted them for him, pliant and boneless. He smiled and pressed a kiss to the sensitive spot on your inner thigh, his fingers curling beneath the hem of your skirt.

It wasn’t until he began sliding the fabric up your legs that your mind cleared and you realized what was happening. The fog receded as his words sunk in, and you lifted your head, eyes wide.

Felix’s fingers moved with unhurried care, sliding the fabric lower and lower until your skirt bunched at your ankles. He kept his touch feather-light, giving you every chance to stop him, but your body felt too heavy, too pliant, caught between the exhaustion dragging you down and the heat sparking under your skin. By the time he eased the skirt fully off, dropping it to the floor beside the bed, your breath was already catching in uneven little pulls.

Your mind was still foggy, a little stunned at how things had shifted, and embarrassment prickled at the edges of your haze.

Felix’s gaze dropped, and you saw the way his eyes darkened as they lingered on the wetness pooling and clinging to the inside of your thighs. The air in the room felt suddenly heavier and your instinct kicked in, trying to close your legs, your knees pressing together in a shy attempt to hide.

But Felix was quicker. His hands were gentle but firm as he placed them on your knees, coaxing them apart again. “No, angel,” he murmured, his voice soft, low, but steady with quiet command. “Don’t hide from me.” He leaned forward, his mouth brushing the side of your face, leaving a trail of delicate kisses from your temple down to your cheek. The tenderness in each press of his lips made your chest tighten even more than his words.

Felix’s lips lingered against your cheek, his breath warm and steady, while his hands held your knees apart with quiet insistence. You could feel the heat radiating from his body where he leaned over you, the closeness making your pulse skip and stutter. Then his hand moved, slow and deliberate, sliding down from your thigh until his fingertips brushed against the damp fabric of your panties.

The lightest graze made your breath hitch, the sensation sharp and dizzying in its subtlety. His fingers traced along the soaked material, exploring the heat seeping through, and you shivered at the contact. You weren’t prepared for how sensitive you felt, your body reacting instantly even though his touch was barely there.

“Already so worked up,” he whispered, the words feathering over your skin as he pressed a kiss just below your ear. His accent curled around every syllable, low and husky, as though he were savoring the discovery.

His fingers moved again, this time slower, dragging up along the curve of your center until they found the small bundle of nerves throbbing beneath the thin barrier of fabric. He applied the faintest pressure, just enough to make your back arch, the tiniest tremor running through you. The wetness only made it easier for him to glide over you, teasing, testing how much you could take.

You whimpered softly, the sound escaping before you could stop it, your hands instinctively clutching at the sheets beside you. Your body jerked at every tiny shift of his fingers, but Felix only hushed you with another kiss to your cheek, his lips brushing along the edge of your mouth before trailing back to your temple.

“Come on angel,” he murmured, his voice all velvet reassurance. “Just relax for me.”

His thumb circled lazily over your clit through the damp fabric, never pressing too hard, only teasing with a light touch that sent ripples of sensation through you. The restraint in his movements made it almost unbearable, he gave you just enough to make your body crave more, your thighs twitching under the pressure of his hands keeping them parted.

Each gentle stroke made you feel hotter, the wet fabric clinging to you with each glide of his finger. Your breath came out in shaky little gasps as he worked you with slow, deliberate intent, his hand moving in easy motions as though he could spend hours like this.

Felix’s thumb lingered in slow, lazy circles, drawing more of those shaky little sounds from you until your whole body felt strung tight. Then, with unhurried care, his hand shifted lower. Two fingers hooked beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging just enough to slip inside. The cool air of the room rushed against your bare skin for a fleeting second before his touch followed, warm and unrelenting.

The first brush of his fingers against your slick folds made you jolt, a sharp shiver tearing through you. Your hips twitched upward instinctively, your breath catching as though you hadn’t expected the sensitivity to hit so hard. “Ah- Felix,” you gasped, the sound more desperate than you meant it to be, your voice trembling.

He stilled for just a moment, his eyes locked onto your face. That was where his focus stayed, completely, unwaveringly on you. His gaze traced every flicker of your expression, every flutter of your lashes, every quiver of your mouth. It was almost too much, the intensity of it. You wanted to look away, to hide from how deeply he was seeing you, but the way his thumb rubbed gentle circles on your thigh, grounding you, made it impossible to pull back.

Then his fingers moved again, spreading the slickness gently before pressing right back where you were most sensitive.

The sensation was overwhelming, the direct pressure making you whimper and curl your fingers into the sheets. Your thighs twitched again, instinct screaming to snap shut, to shield yourself from how exposed and raw you felt under his gaze. But Felix’s hand was steady, keeping you open, coaxing you to let him see everything.

You turned your face into the pillow, embarrassed heat rushing to your cheeks. It felt like too much, his fingers working you in slow, deliberate strokes while his eyes never left your face, catching every reaction. The intimacy of it left your chest tight, your throat clogged with unspoken words.

Felix noticed. Of course he did. He knew you better than you knew yourself, sometimes.

He shifted, the mattress dipping with his weight, and his other hand moved to your face, his thumb gently coaxing your chin back. The touch was light but firm, more demanding rather than guiding, until you looked back at him. His eyes were dark and focused, there was a seriousness there, an intensity, that made you feel pinned in place.

The sight alone made your stomach drop, a new heat spreading through your veins.

Then his fingers began moving again, slow, steady, and you couldn't hold back the whimper that slipped free. His lips curved into the tiniest smirk at the sound, the corners tilting upward in satisfaction. "I want to see you," he murmured, his tone almost casual, as if he wasn't driving you absolutely crazy. "Want to see the pretty way your face flushes when you fall apart."

He spoke with the same calm confidence that he always had, like he knew exactly what would make you shiver and shake and beg. And his words did. You were helpless against them, a moan tearing from your throat as he curled his fingers, stroking over a sensitive spot inside you.

Felix’s smirk lingered as your moan spilled into the space between you, and the sound seemed to ignite something in him. His fingers, already deep inside you, shifted with deliberate precision, curling just right to graze that spot that made your whole body jolt. His thumb pressed down firmly on your clit, the sudden dual sensation sending a cry tumbling from your lips.

“Mm, there it is,” he whispered, his tone dripping with quiet satisfaction. His eyes stayed locked onto yours, unrelenting, drinking in every flicker of pleasure that crossed your face. “That’s the sound I wanted, angel. So sweet for me.”

He set a rhythm, slow but devastating, his fingers thrusting into you in a steady pace while his thumb rubbed lazy circles against your swollen clit. The combination was overwhelming, each movement perfectly calculated, like he knew your body better than you did. The way his thumb dragged, sometimes light and teasing, sometimes firmer, made the fire in your stomach twist tighter and tighter.

Your hands fisted in the sheets, knuckles white, your hips rocking instinctively to meet the thrusts of his hand. Every time he drove his fingers deeper, curling them inside you, your thighs trembled. Every circle of his thumb made sparks explode behind your eyes, until your vision blurred with tears that clung to your lashes.

“Look at you,” Felix breathed, his voice husky, soft yet commanding. His hand on your chin tightened just slightly, tilting your face so you couldn’t hide. “So beautiful like this. You feel how wet you are for me? How perfect you are around my fingers?” His words were tender, but the edge in them, the low rumble of possession, made you whimper even harder.

Your whole body was trembling, every stroke of his fingers and every deliberate circle of his thumb pushing you closer to that edge. The sounds slipping from your mouth were soft, broken, but louder than you intended, and the way Felix’s gaze pinned you down only made the heat in your cheeks burn hotter. You bit your lip, trying to hold back, but the pleasure kept spilling out of you anyway, raw and uncontrollable.

“S’… much,” you gasped, your voice shaky, words barely forming as your chest heaved. Your hand flew down on instinct, covering his wrist, trying to still the relentless rhythm of his fingers. You weren’t sure if you wanted relief or just a chance to breathe, but your body was thrumming with too much intensity to tell the difference.

For a second, his fingers slowed, though not because he was stopping, because he was waiting. Watching. His eyes were locked onto yours, burning with something dark and unwavering, like he wanted to see every bit of your hesitation and shyness laid bare.

“Mm, too much?” he murmured, almost teasing, though his voice had that dangerous softness that made your heart lurch. His fingers flexed inside you, just enough to make you jolt.

You tightened your grip on his hand, trying to still him, but the way your thighs squeezed around his arm betrayed how good it felt, how much your body craved it even when your mind tried to resist. The mix of desperation and need in your expression made Felix’s lips curl into a slow, dangerous smile.

And then his voice dropped, rough and low, each word laced with command. “Move your fuckin’ hand.”

The words shot straight through you, dark and sharp, vibrating in the pit of your stomach. His tone wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to make you shiver, to make your body obey before your thoughts could catch up. Your hand slipped away from his, trembling as it fell back to the sheets.

You felt as he bit down on the lobe of your ear as his pace resumed, harder this time, more deliberate. His thumb pressed down firmly on your clit, dragging another helpless cry from you as his fingers thrust deep, curling right against that sensitive spot again and again.

“Don’t you dare try to hide from me,” he breathed against your ear, his words thick with both heat and devotion. “I want to hear every sound you make. I want to feel you fall apart right here, on my hand.”

The pressure and the pace didn’t slow, they only intensified, his thumb rubbing hard circles against your clit while his fingers thrust into you. Every drag of his fingers was deliberate and calculated, like he knew exactly how much friction you needed, and how fast, and how hard.

He was ruthless in the way he drove you right to the edge, holding you there, and then slowing down. It was torture, the constant change of pace, and your mind felt completely unraveled, hazy and desperate and needy, unable to grasp onto any kind of sense. All you could do was clutch at the sheets, writhing against the bed, gasping and moaning with every curl of his fingers.

You were completely overwhelmed, lost in the sensations, in the feeling of him all around you, and the sounds spilled out of you without thought or filter. Your whole body shook with pleasure and exertion, tears clinging to your lashes.

But no matter how hard your muscles tensed, no matter how tightly you curled your fingers, no matter how desperately you arched and gasped, Felix never relented. It felt like the heat building inside you would consume you whole. Each rub of his thumb against your clit, each thrust of his fingers, made the coil inside you twist tighter and tighter, until it was almost unbearable.

Then the pressure finally snapped. Your body arched off the bed, a raw cry tearing from your throat as the coil inside you unraveled all at once. Pleasure ripped through you in waves, white-hot and blinding, stealing every ounce of breath from your lungs. Your thighs shook violently around his arm, your nails clawing at the sheets, every nerve in your body burning under his relentless touch.

“That’s it, angel,” Felix groaned against your ear, his lips brushing the shell of it as he whispered praise after praise. “So perfect for me... Let it go, I’ve got you.” His words rumbled low in his chest, steady and grounding while your world tilted and blurred.

You could barely think, barely breathe, your body trembled so hard it felt like you’d shatter under his hand. Stars exploded behind your eyelids, vision hazy and spotted as your climax rolled through you in endless waves, leaving you gasping and whimpering, every sound raw and helpless.

Felix’s mouth never left your skin. He pressed kisses along your jaw, your cheek, the damp corner of your eye where tears clung. “So beautiful like this,” he whispered, his voice ragged but filled with awe. His lips trailed lower, over your neck, sucking gently at the sensitive spot beneath your ear before soothing it with soft kisses. “You did so good for me, angel... so, so good.”

As the sharp edge of your release ebbed, your body went slack, melting into the mattress. Your chest heaved with each shaky inhale, your muscles twitching from the aftermath, every limb boneless. You were completely undone, your body still humming with the remnants of pleasure.

Felix’s fingers slowed gradually, easing you down from the high until your body could finally rest. Only then did he slip his hand from between your thighs. You let out a shaky little whimper at the loss, your legs twitching weakly in response.

You barely managed to open your eyes in time to see what he did next. Felix brought his hand up to his lips, his fingers glistening with you. His gaze stayed locked on yours, dark, hungry, as he slipped his fingers into his mouth. He sucked slow, deliberate, like he wanted to savor every last bit of you, a pleased hum vibrating in his throat.

When he pulled them free, his tongue chased along the pad of one finger, his lips curving into the faintest, most satisfied smirk. He leaned close, his forehead brushing yours, his breath mingling with your ragged exhale. “Stress relief has never tasted so good,” he murmured, his voice low and sinful, before pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

WARNINGSS: first time, p in v (unprotected...), fingering (f rec), dry humping, cum w/o touch?, crying (good crying), big dick jisung, stomach bulge, creampie, mean dom for a lil, jisung is a lil inexperienced but is very observant

a/n: ermm... nothing to say, its 4 am... 15k of pure smut... enjoy i love u guys

He had been a good boyfriend from the start.

Thoughtful, attentive, always finding little ways to make you smile, whether it was a text that landed right when you needed it, or the way he remembered the smallest details you’d mentioned weeks ago. He had this goofy charm, a lightness that made your days feel brighter, and you never doubted how much he cared. But when it came to closeness, real closeness, there was always a hesitation.

You craved touch the way some people craved air. A hand at your waist, fingers laced together, the warmth of being pulled close, those little things kept you grounded. And though Han gave you pieces of that, it always stopped short, like he was holding something back. A brush of knuckles instead of a kiss, a quick hug instead of letting it linger. It drove you crazy sometimes, made your skin hum with restless energy.

From the beginning, he had been the one to bring it up: he wanted to wait. You hadn’t asked why, hadn’t pushed him, just nodded and let it be. Maybe he was shy, you reasoned, or maybe he was self-conscious. The way he flinched ever so slightly when your hand grazed certain parts of him, or how he laughed off moments that lingered too long, told you it was deeper than just nerves. And though you respected his pace, it left you lying awake some nights, heart aching with the need to feel closer to him, wondering if he would ever let you in all the way.

Tonight, it was just the two of you, like always. His room was dim except for the soft glow of the TV, casting shifting colors against the walls. The sun had set hours ago, and it was the kind of late where everything outside seemed still, where the world shrank down to just the hum of his desk fan and the faint noise from the show he was far too invested in. You lay beside him on the bed, the comforter pooled lazily around your legs, your body angled toward him while his attention was glued to the screen.

You could leave whenever you wanted, he had the car, and your house wasn’t far. The freedom was always there, that quiet understanding that you didn’t owe him anything, that if you got uncomfortable you could just go. But tonight, you didn’t want to leave. The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. Not when he looked this cute, his hair messy in that unintentional way that made you want to run your fingers through it, his glasses slipping just low enough on his nose to make him look soft, almost vulnerable.

He was focused, maybe too focused, eyes flicking across the screen while his lips pressed into a faint line, and you couldn’t stop staring. It was unfair, the way he could look like this, like he didn’t even realize the kind of effect he had on you, how he could sit there in a t-shirt and sweats, casual and unbothered, while you were busy memorizing every detail of him.

You shifted slightly, closing the distance between you just a little, your shoulder brushing his arm. It was something you always did, leaning in like a magnet without even realizing it, craving the warmth of his presence. And, true to form, he didn’t move away, but he didn’t lean into it either. His jaw tightened, and though his gaze never wavered from the TV, you could tell he’d noticed. He always noticed, no matter how hard he pretended not to.

Your fingers always had a mind of their own when it came to Han. It was a game you liked to play, brushing against him in little ways, because watching him squirm, or worse, pretend he wasn’t squirming, was addictive. Sometimes it was just your fingertips grazing his knuckles, sometimes the light drag of your nails over his arm, the kind of touch that was innocent enough to be brushed off but purposeful enough to make him tense.

Tonight was no different, at least at first. You let your hand wander while your eyes stayed fixed on him, pretending you were caught up in whatever was happening on the screen. Your nails skimmed lightly over the curve of his bicep, your pinky brushing against the edge of his sleeve. Usually, this was where he stiffened, maybe shifted a little to put space between you, or shot you a glance meant to be playful but edged with warning. And usually, that made you want him even more.

But this time, he didn’t pull away. If anything, he seemed to sink into it, his shoulders loosening instead of locking up, his body giving way to your touch. The realization made your breath catch in your throat, though you played it off, letting your nails trace lower, skimming the slope of his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. The steady beat of his heart thudded beneath your fingertips, and for a moment you wondered if he knew just how loud it was.

Then his hand moved.

He didn’t push you away, he never did, not really. Instead, his palm covered yours, warm and steady, stopping you mid-trace. You almost expected him to lift your hand off, to laugh nervously and steer things back into safe territory. But instead, his fingers curled around yours, guiding your hand downward until it rested against the flat of his stomach. The motion was deliberate, his touch lingering, and your pulse spiked at the simple weight of his choice.

You glanced up at him, half-expecting to find him flustered, but his eyes never left the TV, even though you could see the tension in his jaw had shifted into something else entirely. Not avoidance this time, something deeper, heavier, like he was testing the waters of letting you in.

Your chest tightened with the need to break through that wall he always kept between you. The steady weight of his hand guiding yours was already enough to make your head spin, but you wanted more, needed more. The thought struck you before you even realized you were moving, your body acting faster than your brain. With a quick shift, you swung a leg over, settling into his lap.

The reaction was immediate. His eyes finally tore from the TV, faltering, widening just slightly as they landed on you. His mouth parted, but nothing came out right away, just a stutter of breath that betrayed how rattled he suddenly was.

“W-what are you-” His voice cracked halfway through the sentence, and he cut himself off, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. His hands, once so steady holding yours, now hovered uncertainly at your waist, fingers twitching like they wanted to grab hold but weren’t sure if they were allowed.

You bit back a smile at how adorably undone he looked. His glasses had slid down again, catching on the bridge of his nose, the crooked angle only making his wide-eyed panic that much cuter. You could see the pink blooming across his cheeks, the way his gaze kept flicking between your face and anywhere else he could land it, as if looking at you too long might undo him completely.

The warmth of his lap beneath you and the nervous tremor in his hands made your heart race. You leaned in just enough to make him squirm, your voice low and teasing. “Han,” you whispered, watching his Adam’s apple bob again, “you’re not watching the show anymore.”

He gave a breathless laugh, shaky and nervous, his hands finally resting on your hips but barely, like the lightest brush would burn him. “Y-you’re... you’re covering-” he managed, stuttering through the words, his eyes darting up to yours for only a second before dropping again.

Your smile deepened at his flustered attempt at an excuse, the stammer that betrayed just how much he was struggling to keep himself together. “Oh,” you murmured sweetly, tilting your head like you were genuinely apologetic, “I’m sorry... am I covering the screen?”

Before he could answer, you shifted lower against him, your weight settling more firmly in his lap. His breath hitched, the sound sharp and unsteady as you leaned down, letting your chest brush lightly against his while you rested your head beside his, your cheek near his temple.

“Better?” you asked, voice laced with teasing warmth, your lips close enough that the words ghosted over his skin. Your mouth hovered at the curve of his neck, just shy of touching, the heat of your breath dragging goosebumps up the column of his throat.

Han froze beneath you, his hands tightening ever so slightly at your hips before loosening again, like he didn’t know what to do with them. His glasses slid down further, threatening to fall completely, and his head tilted back instinctively, exposing just that much more of his throat to you.

“I-I... I can’t...” he stammered, his voice trembling, almost breaking on the words. “I can’t see properly at all...”

The confession made your chest tighten, your lips curling into a slow grin against his skin. He wasn’t even pretending anymore. His attention was all yours.

You pulled back just enough to see him, the edges of your grin sharpening when you caught the way his eyes flickered helplessly between you and the screen. His lips parted like he wanted to speak, but all that came out was another shaky breath.

“Maybe it’s my fault,” you murmured, drawing his attention right back to you. Your fingers toyed with the hem of your sweater, tugging lightly. “Maybe the fabric’s too thick... makes it hard for you to see properly.”

Before he could process, you sat up straighter in his lap, your weight shifting against him in a way that made his jaw clench, and pulled the sweater over your head in one slow, deliberate motion. The soft cotton landed somewhere on the floor with a careless toss, leaving you in nothing but the snug lines of your bra, your skin catching in the glow of the TV.

The effect was instant. His eyes scrambled, darting everywhere they could, your face, your shoulders, the blanket at the edge of the bed, before inevitably dragging back to you. He tried, he really tried, to look respectful, his fingers twitching where they still hovered uncertainly at your waist, but his resolve was unraveling fast.

“Y-you...” His voice cracked, the words dying on his tongue as his throat worked, Adam’s apple bobbing hard. He gave up halfway, his lips pressing into a thin line like even trying to speak was too much.

The sight made your pulse leap. You leaned down again, slow and deliberate, letting your hair brush against his jaw as your lips hovered near the shell of his ear. “Well?” you teased, your voice a whisper that vibrated against his skin. “Pay attention to your very interesting show, Hannie.”

You lingered there, lips hovering dangerously close to his ear, fully aware of the way his breathing had changed, uneven, ragged, as though just existing beneath you was overwhelming him. You’d meant to tease, to fluster him, to get that adorable stuttering mess you loved so much, but now, sitting in his lap, you realized just how much control you had.

Han wasn’t even pretending anymore. His eyes hadn’t touched the TV in minutes, not since you’d taken off your sweater. Instead, they were on you, darting, scrambling, trying to be respectful but failing miserably, his gaze catching on your collarbones, your shoulders, your chest before flicking back up guiltily to your face. His hands trembled faintly where they hovered at your hips, like he wanted to grip tighter, pull you closer, but was terrified of crossing a line.

You shifted just slightly, adjusting your weight, and that’s when you felt it, the undeniable press against your crotch, hardening even though he was trying so desperately to keep still beneath you. Your breath hitched, eyes flicking down to see his flushed face, the way his glasses had slid halfway down his nose, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. He was helpless under you, undone in a way you’d never seen before, and the sight sent a rush of heat straight through your body.

Your pulse pounded in your ears, and suddenly the game didn’t feel so one-sided anymore. Teasing him had left you worked up too, your body betraying you as arousal coiled low in your stomach. Every tiny shift against him made you more aware of how wet you were becoming, the thought making your cheeks burn with both embarrassment and want. You prayed it wasn’t seeping through the thin layers of fabric, but the sensitivity building between your thighs was impossible to ignore.

Han’s breath stuttered when you moved again, his fingers twitching against your waist as though he wanted to hold you down but couldn’t bring himself to. “I-I... you...” he tried, the words dying in his throat, replaced by a low, strangled sound he couldn’t quite swallow back.

You tilted your head, eyes locking with his, savoring the sight of him, flushed, glassy-eyed, torn between restraint and need. He looked so impossibly cute like this, undone and lost under you, and at the same time, every nerve in your body screamed for more, for him to let go, for you to stop pretending you could keep this teasing harmless.

You couldn’t stop yourself. The ache between your legs pulsed so insistently it drowned out reason, urging you forward until your hips shifted again, slow and deliberate. The drag of friction was maddening, your core pressing against the hard outline beneath you. The sensation ripped through you, leaving your thighs trembling, and a breathy whine escaped before you could bite it back, soft and needy, spilling into the quiet air right by his ear.

Han’s reaction was instant. His eye squeezed shut, his whole body going rigid under you as if the sound alone had unraveled him. One of his hands clenched at the sheets, the other still hovering uselessly at your hip. His lips parted on a shaky breath, but instead of words came a low, muffled sound he barely managed to swallow down. The effort to hold it in was written all over his face; the way his brows pinched, the muscles in his jaw straining, his throat bobbing as he forced himself silent.

But then your whine hit him fully, close enough that your lips almost brushed his ear, and he shivered violently. His hand finally made contact, fingers gripping your waist with trembling hesitation, like he couldn’t help himself anymore.

“Y/N...” he gasped, your name falling from his lips in a plea, fragile and desperate. The sound of it made your stomach twist, heat rushing up your chest, and you rocked against him again, slower this time, savoring the way his restraint frayed with each shift.

You watched him come apart beneath you, his head tipping back, his bottom lip caught between his teeth again, his breaths escaping ragged and unsteady. His glasses becoming a burden, his face flushed, his eyes screwed shut, and you wanted him so badly it made your heart race, and you thought for a second maybe your teasing was going too far.

But then his fingers dug in a little harder, pulling you down as his hips lifted up, grinding against you, and a whimper escaped before you could swallow it down. His eyes snapped open, his expression twisting with regret, his gaze finding yours, wide and panicked.

The second his hips had jerked, Han had tensed again, his grip on your waist loosening as though he was ready to pull away completely. But before he could, your hands found his shoulders, pushing him firmly back down onto the mattress.

Your voice was soft and breathless, your cheeks hot with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. This wasn’t the plan. You were the one supposed to be driving him crazy, not the other way around, but your resolve was already slipping, and you could feel the ache between your legs growing unbearable.

He stared up at you, his lips parting in a silent apology, but before he could even form the words, you were moving again, rolling your hips against his, desperate for that delicious pressure. He was hard beneath you, his length straining against his sweatpants, and you could feel him twitch with each movement. His eyes fell shut, his jaw going slack, a moan vibrating from deep within his chest.

The tension finally snapped. You couldn’t take another second of watching him unravel beneath you without tasting him, without closing that last sliver of distance. Leaning down, you caught his mouth with yours, your lips crashing together in a kiss that was all heat and hunger. For a split second he froze, just long enough for your stomach to twist in fear, but then he melted into you, kissing you back like he’d been waiting for it, like the restraint he’d been clinging to had finally given way.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his lips moved desperately against yours, sloppy and unpracticed but so full of need it made your head spin. His chest pressed into yours, his breath hot, and then you felt it. His hips shifted up into you, grinding against your core, the pressure so sudden and perfect it stole the air from your lungs.

You gasped into his mouth, the sound spilling into the kiss, turning into a moan you couldn’t hold back. The vibration of it seemed to snap him out of his daze. His eyes flew open, wide and panicked, though his lips still hovered against yours.

“I-I didn’t mean-” he stammered, pulling back just enough to breathe, his words tumbling over each other in nervous rushes. “You just- you felt so- God, it felt so good, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t-”

His cheeks burned crimson, his gaze darting away, and he started to lift his hands from your hips like he was ready to undo everything. But then his voice faltered, the apology unraveling mid-sentence, because he realized what you were doing.

You were tugging at the waistband of your pants, sliding them down slowly, the fabric dragging over your thighs. His words died completely, swallowed by the sight, his lips parting soundlessly as his eyes followed the motion with raw disbelief.

With a shaky breath, you shifted, lifting yourself off him just enough to slide your pants down over your hips. You were a mess, panties soaked through, but the thought only made you more desperate for him, and he looked so impossibly cute beneath you that any self-consciousness evaporated.

Han watched, his expression somewhere between shock and arousal, his jaw working as he fought for words that wouldn't come.

"Y-you..." he tried, the words failing on a ragged breath, his chest rising and falling fast beneath you.

Han’s eyes dropped before he could stop himself, his lashes trembling against the pink of his cheeks as he took in the sight of you above him. You saw the moment it hit him, how bare you were, how obvious your arousal had become. His chest rose sharply, a shaky breath rattling out of him as his gaze snagged on the damp patch clinging to your panties.

The bulge straining against his sweats twitched visibly, his thighs tightening beneath you like he was fighting the urge to move. “W-why... how is it like that?” he whispered, his voice fragile, innocent in its confusion but drenched in the awe of someone who couldn’t look away. His Adam’s apple bobbed hard as he forced himself to meet your eyes, though his face was still red enough to burn.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing the shell of his ear, savoring how he froze, every muscle tensing beneath you. Slowly, deliberately, you rolled your hips, dragging the soaked fabric of your panties against the thick outline beneath his sweatpants. The friction made you shudder, a soft, helpless noise slipping from your lips right against his skin.

“It’s all you,” you breathed, your voice breaking around the edges as another wave of sensation pulsed through you. “You did this to me, Hannie. You’re making me feel that good.”

Your words hung in the air, heavy and trembling, and he shivered beneath you, his grip on your waist tightening like he needed the anchor. His eyes screwed shut again, and a strangled sound escaped his throat, half moan, half whimper, as if your confession had knocked the air out of him completely.

Your lips found his again, but this time the kiss wasn’t frantic or clumsy, it was slower, deliberate, your mouth guiding his, coaxing him into the rhythm. He followed you eagerly, his lips soft and pliant beneath yours, every shaky breath he let out warming your skin. You could feel the way he clung to you through the kiss, like each second grounded him, even as the heat between you both only built higher.

His hands, once frozen in place, began to move with hesitant confidence. They settled more firmly on your hips, fingers pressing into the thin fabric as if he were testing his own courage. You felt the tremble in his grip when his thumbs shifted higher, then dragged slowly downward until they brushed the edge of your waistband. The touch was featherlight, almost shy, but the weight of the intention made your stomach clench.

You pulled back just enough to whisper against his lips, your smile teasing as your eyes searched his. “If you’re so eager, you can take it off for me.”

His breath hitched, his eyes going wide, and for a moment you thought you’d pushed him too far again. But then, with a sound halfway between a whimper and a groan, he leaned forward and caught your mouth in his before you could say another word. The kiss was deeper this time, messy and urgent, like he needed to shut you up before you could tease him any further.

The kiss quickly turned feverish, your mouths moving against each other with a messy desperation neither of you bothered to rein in. His hands gripped you tighter, no longer tentative, holding your hips as if he couldn’t bear to let go. Every brush of his lips, every shaky exhale he spilled into you, had your pulse racing, your body pressing closer like you could melt into him.

You broke away for just a second, gasping for air, and that’s when you saw the frustration flicker across his face. Han took his glasses off with one shaky hand, tossing them somewhere onto the nightstand without care. His eyes, no longer framed by the barrier, were blown wide and dark, glassy with both nerves and raw hunger. The sight of him, flushed, hair mussed, lips swollen, made your stomach twist with want.

Before you could even tease him for it, you rolled your hips down against him, slow and deliberate, the friction sparking white-hot between you. The pressure was perfect, the damp cling of your panties dragging over the thick strain of him through his sweats.

Han’s reaction was instant, a strangled moan tearing from his throat as his head fell back against the pillow, his grip on you tightening almost painfully. It was the first sound he hadn't bothered to stifle, and the realization made heat pool between your thighs.

The sound sent a rush of arousal straight through you, the need to hear it again clawing its way to the front of your mind. You did it again, this time shifting your hips forward, rolling them against him with purpose. A high, desperate sound escaped his lips, his hands tightening at your hips, urging you to move faster, more, and you couldn’t ignore the request.

You rocked against him again and again, faster, chasing the pressure that had you shaking. The damp fabric slid easily over him, the friction lighting you up inside. You could feel him twitching against you, the outline of him pulsing against the heat of your core, and the thought alone made you gasp.

The rhythm had you spiraling, every drag of your soaked panties over his hardness sending shockwaves through your body. Your thighs trembled where they caged him in, the coil in your stomach tightening until it felt unbearable. Your breath hitched, breaking into uneven gasps, and then the words spilled out of you before you could hold them back.

“H-Han,” you whined, voice cracking, high and desperate against his lips. “I’m- I’m getting so close...”

Your hips ground down harder, more frantic, chasing the pressure with helpless abandon. The wet friction made your body sing, every nerve alight, and you could feel yourself throbbing, slick against the strained outline of him.

His eyes shot wide at your admission, glassy and blown so dark you swore he could see right through you. He stilled beneath you, not from resistance, but because he was transfixed, watching every twitch of your body, every stutter of your breath, like he couldn’t look away even if he tried. His lips parted, his chest heaving, but he didn’t speak; he just held you tighter, his fingers digging into your hips as if anchoring himself to the moment.

“Y/N…” His voice broke on the single word, rough and disbelieving, but his gaze never left your face. He looked ruined, awestruck, desperate all at once; so eager, so ready to watch you unravel for him.

You rolled against him again, the coil inside you tightening to its limit, your body shaking as a moan tore from your throat, louder, needier, no longer muffled or restrained. The sound made him shiver violently beneath you, his breath catching like your pleasure alone was pulling him apart.

He was so hard under you, twitching, and the thought that you were making him feel good, that he wanted you so badly, undid the last of your resolve. The tension in your stomach snapped, and then your climax crashed through you, wave after wave of heat rippling through your body. You shook and cried out, gasping, his name falling from your lips over and over like a prayer.

He clung to you, holding you down against him while the waves rocked through you, his eyes locked on your face as he drank in the sight of you coming undone. His expression twisted with wonder and adoration, like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

You couldn’t stop moving, the slick heat of your panties dragging over him, making your body tremble as aftershocks rushed through you. The pleasure was almost unbearable, white-hot and overwhelming, but somehow even as it threatened to consume you, all you could think was that it wasn’t enough.

You wanted him closer, skin to skin, no longer separated by the thin barrier of your panties. You wanted to feel the heat of him against you, the weight, the pulse. You wanted to drive him crazy, until he couldn't hold back, until the last thread of his control unraveled completely.

When your head cleared, just enough, the words spilled from you before you could stop them, low and needy. "Han, I-I want to feel you... please."

He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes wide, the blush across his cheeks deepening. For a second, you worried you'd gone too far, but then his grip tightened, pulling you closer. The motion was almost possessive, the hesitance gone from his hands, replaced with the desperation of someone who'd finally given up on pretending he could control himself.

"You- you can't just say things like that..." he murmured, his voice shaky but firm, his hands still gripping you as if he was afraid you'd disappear. He took a breath, then another, like he was trying to steady himself, but the effort was useless.

Your fingers curled tight into his shirt, tugging at the fabric as if that alone could bring him closer. The desperate ache in your body was too much, the need too sharp, spilling into your voice before you could hold it back.

“Hannie, please,” you whined, breath hot against his lips. “I need you. I need to feel all of you.”

His eyes went wide, the panic flashing there quick and unguarded before he shut them tightly, jaw clenching like he was fighting himself. “N-no... I don’t-” His voice cracked, his grip on your hips trembling. “I don’t think you’re ready.”

The words hit you like cold water, confusion rushing in. You leaned back just enough to search his face, your own twisted with frustration and want. “What do you mean I’m not ready? I’ve been ready, Han.” Your voice shook with conviction, laced with need. “I want this, I want you.”

His hands slid up your sides, clutching you like he was afraid of breaking you apart. His throat bobbed as he forced himself to speak, his words spilling out ragged and uneven. “You don’t understand...”

Your body burned hotter at the protest, your patience unraveling. “I do,” you insisted, your tone trembling but firm, heavy with desperation. “I do, Hannie. I know what I want.”

And to prove it, to push him past the edge he kept clinging to, you rolled your hips again. The movement sent shocks of overstimulation through you, your body still raw and twitching from the high you’d just ridden out. The jolt made you gasp, half-pleasure, half-pain, but you didn’t stop. You pressed harder, dragging yourself against him with shaky determination, knowing he could feel every ounce of your need.

“If you really think I’m not ready...” you whispered, your lips brushing his, “then you can help stretch me out. You can make me ready.”

His whole body went rigid beneath you, the words sinking into him like a live wire. You saw his lips part, the beginnings of another protest trembling there, but when your eyes locked with his, wide, glassy, and trembling, something in him faltered. His throat bobbed, his breath catching in his chest, and instead of pushing you away, he just... stared.

That was all the permission you needed. With your heart hammering in your chest, you shifted off his lap, knees sinking into the mattress as you stood before him on shaky legs. His gaze followed your every move, dazed and unblinking, like he didn’t trust himself to look away.

Your hands hooked into the waistband of your panties, fingers dragging the damp fabric slowly over your hips. You felt his stare burn hotter with each inch of skin revealed, his chest rising in sharp, uneven breaths. The soaked lace clung to you, sticky and wet, before sliding down your thighs. When they hit the floor with a soft sound, you tossed them aside carelessly.

You leaned back onto the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows, your knees falling open just enough to reveal everything to him. The cool air hit your bare skin, making you shiver, but the heat in his eyes made your whole body burn.

Han’s face twisted, shock and desire warring across his features, his cheeks deepening into a furious flush. His lips parted, and for once no words came, just a sharp inhale, a sound almost choked as his eyes widened, drinking in the sight of you spread out for him.

“Oh...” His voice cracked, his hand flying up to cover his mouth before he could finish. His other hand twitched where it rested on the bed, like it was aching to reach out, to touch, but he stayed frozen, completely undone by you.

Your stomach flipped at his reaction, heat rushing through your body until your cheeks burned. But the sight of him made you want to keep going, the thought of him unraveling for you even more.

Slowly, deliberately, you trailed one of your hands down over the curve of your stomach, the muscles there jumping at the touch. Your fingertips brushed the crease of your thigh, lingering at the sensitive skin there.

His eye went impossibly wider, his brows furrowing, a shaky, strangled noise escaping his throat as he watched your fingers drift lower, and lower, until they finally dragged through the deliberate mess of your arousal, spreading your folds open just enough for him to see everything.

His breath hitched, a shudder wracking his frame. His hand clenched at his side, then balled into a fist, and you saw the muscles in his arm flex, straining as if the self-control was painful. His face contorted, and when his eye met yours, it was desperate, his lips parting like he was about to break.

But before he could speak, your fingers dipped inside you, the heat of his gaze making your head spin. You couldn't help the moan that slipped from your lips, the feeling of being so exposed for him, the thought that you were making him watch. It made you throb, aching, desperate for more, and the only thing that could ease the tension was him.

Your breath caught as you slid your fingers deeper, the sensation of finally touching yourself making your body burn. Your head fell back, a shaky moan escaping you as the pads of your fingers dragged against the soft, slick walls of your pussy.

For a split second, you were too lost in the feeling, too overwhelmed, but then you forced yourself to lift your head, your eyes finding his, desperate for him to see what he did to you.

He was watching, transfixed, his chest heaving, his bottom lip caught between his teeth again as he stared at the place where your fingers disappeared inside. A soft, strangled noise vibrated from deep within his chest, and his fists clenched tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

With a shaky breath, you pulled them free, dragging the slick mess up until they found the small bundle of nerves that made your back arch off the bed. You circled the bud, slow and deliberate, the friction lighting up every nerve ending in your body.

You bit down hard on your lip, the pleasure pulsing through you, too much, too sensitive. You wanted to close your eyes, give in, lose yourself in the feeling, but the sight of him, watching, desperate, holding himself back, kept you tethered.

"P-Please... Please, Han I need-" The words came out as a gasp, your voice cracking as your fingers faltered, sending sparks up your spine. "Need you to touch me."

Han's chest rose and fell with sharp, uneven breaths, his eye following the movement of your fingers with a mixture of awe and desperation. He couldn't speak, couldn't tear his gaze away, but slowly, deliberately, he uncurled his fists, his fingers flexing against the sheets as if testing his own restraint.

He inched his hands forward, tentative, his eye never leaving your fingers as they circled and stroked. You could hear his breath catch, stutter, every time a particularly loud moan slipped past your lips.

His hands trembled when they reached your ankles, and then he paused, his gaze snapping up to search yours, waiting for permission, the last thread of his control.

It was enough to undo you, his touch so close, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Your fingers slipped out, trembling, and slid up over your stomach, the sticky mess clinging to your skin. With a shaky breath, you brought them to your lips, dragging the wetness over the plush curve before letting them fall open in invitation.

His breath hitched, his hands tightening around your ankles. The sight made his throat bob, his eyes glazing over, but he still didn't move.

"Y/N..." he breathed, the name shaking, disbelieving, his voice thick with the effort of holding himself back. "Can I really...?"

You nodded, the word coming out desperate, almost pleading. "Please."

Something in him snapped, his breath coming out in a rush. And then his hands slid slowly, purposefully, up your calves, his fingers trailing over the smooth skin. His touch was light, reverent, taking in every inch of you.

The feeling of his skin on yours made you shudder, the heat of his hands, the size, the calluses. The intimacy, the fact that he was finally touching you, made your heart race. You couldn't help it; the thought, the sight of him, so desperate, so ready, made you ache.

"Please," you begged, the words tumbling out. "I need your fingers."

He didn't respond, not verbally, but the tremble in his hands, the way his eye widened, the pink spreading across his cheeks, said enough.

His hands drifted higher, his thumbs circling, kneading at the softness of your thighs, the warmth seeping through your skin. You let your knees fall wider, the invitation obvious, and his breath caught.

One hand left your leg, and then his fingers trailed, featherlight, over the skin of your inner thigh. Your muscles jumped, a soft, desperate whimper spilling from your lips, but then his touch disappeared, and you forced your eyes open to see him pulling at the hem of his shirt.

"You-you won't be the only one," he said, his voice shaking, his tone firm, and when his eye met yours again, his expression was determined, almost stubborn. "So we're even."

Your chest fluttered, warmth flooding through you. The thought that he'd be just as vulnerable, just as bare for you, made your head spin. The last of the resistance, the embarrassment, melted away.

Without hesitation, you reached for him, tugging at his shirt, and he lifted his arms, helping you pull it over his head. He tossed it somewhere behind him, careless, and then his hand returned, resting on the smooth, flushed skin of your thigh.

The sight of him, shirtless, his torso bare and open to you, had your pulse racing. He was leaner than the others, not nearly as broad, his shoulders thin but still strong. The muscles in his chest and stomach were delicious, leading down to his V-line that looked way too tempting.

You had a brief flash of wanting to trace the path with your tongue, but the thought was cut short when his hand slid higher, the tips of his fingers dragging over the wet mess between your thighs.

The feeling made you cry out, your hips jerking against his touch, and he froze, his eyes wide and frantic, his voice low and worried. "A-are you okay? Did I hurt-"

You shook your head, gasping. "No, no- It-it felt good. Please don't stop."

Relief washed over his face, his body relaxing as he exhaled sharply. He swallowed, the motion heavy, and then, without looking away, his fingers moved.

You moaned, a sharp, high sound, your back arching off the bed. It felt nothing like your own hand, the difference in size, the calluses, the weight. His fingers were thicker, longer, his skin so hot against yours, the contact making your head spin.

He started slow, his motions careful and deliberate, watching every twitch and shudder that rolled through you. He circled the slick mess between your folds, the pads of his fingers tracing, dipping, learning, and each touch felt better than the last.

His eye was fixed on the place where his hand disappeared between your thighs, his gaze dark, glassy, and filled with a hunger you'd never seen. Your legs spread wider, giving him room, the wetness pooling and dripping down onto the sheets.

A soft, shaky exhale escaped his lips, and his fingers slid lower, dipping inside. He didn't hesitate, just pushed his first two digits inside, burying them up to the knuckle. The feeling, the thickness, the heat, made you gasp, a high, needy sound tearing from your throat.

Han sucked in a breath, his head snapping up, his eye searching yours. "You-you're so-"

You cut him off with a moan, the feeling of his fingers, the words, undoing the last shred of your restraint.

"God, yes, Han. I need- I need more." You shifted your hips, pushing them down against his hand, your walls clenching around him. "Please, give me more."

Han's lips parted, a low, guttural groan rumbling from his chest, his hand gripping the inside of your thigh tighter. His face was flushed, the color creeping down his neck, his hair mussed and sticking to his forehead. His gaze locked with yours, his eye half-lidded, and for a moment he just held your stare, his fingers twitching inside you, but then he nodded.

The third finger slipped inside with some resistance, your body slowly getting ready to accept him. You cried out, the fullness sending sparks of pleasure straight through you. The sound made him pause, his jaw clenching, his eye wide and worried, and for a split second you worried he would stop.

"No, don't stop- Please. Don't stop," you pleaded, your voice breaking, your hands clutching at the sheets. "It feels- it feels so good. More. Please."

His mouth fell open, and the worry faded from his expression, replaced with a kind of hunger that made your body burn. He nodded, swallowing heavily, and then his hand pressed further, his fingers sliding in deeper.

The feeling was unbearable, and when his fingers curled, the tips dragging against the soft, sensitive walls, your head fell back, a whine ripping from your throat. The stretch was perfect, his hand hot and heavy, the friction lighting up every nerve in your body.

"Oh God, Y/N..." he groaned, his eye fixed on the place where his fingers disappeared inside. "You-you're really tight."

"Mmh, it feels so good," you gasped, the praise going straight to your core. Your thighs twitched, the muscles clenching as a shudder rocked through you. "Fuck, Han. Please, more. I need more."

A ragged, desperate sound left his throat, his gaze snapping up to find yours. The desire in his eyes sent a rush of heat straight through you, and for a moment, his fingers stuttered, stopping their motions completely.

But then he leaned forward, the new angle pressing his hand harder against you, the sensation making you cry out. His other hand gripped your thigh, pushing it higher, the new position giving him a better view.

"You're so..." he whispered, his voice trailing off, low and broken, his eye never leaving your face. His tongue darted out, wetting his lips, and when he spoke again, his voice came out hoarse, almost strained. "Is-is this okay? Tell me what feels good, please. I want to make you feel good."

"Everything," you gasped, the words falling from your lips before you could think, your body already moving on instinct. Your hips bucked against his hand, the friction, the heat, the pressure making your head spin. "Your fingers, Han- fuck- it's all so good."

He groaned, his eyes falling closed for a moment, his brows furrowed and tense. His fingers pressed deeper, the thickness making you see stars, and then his palm settled against your clit. You couldn't help the broken moan that slipped from your lips, the jolt of pleasure too much.

"Like that?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, and his eye snapped open, searching your face.

You couldn't find the words, couldn't manage anything more than a desperate nod. But the confirmation seemed to spur him on, and his hand began to move.

The pace was slow, measured, his fingers sliding in and out, testing the angle. Every motion dragged against your walls, sending sparks straight through you. You couldn't hold back the sounds falling from your lips, the desperate, breathless moans and whimpers, the sound only growing louder when he started rubbing slow circles into your clit.

His fingers pressed deeper, curling, his hand working hard, the movements growing more deliberate with each sound you made. He watched, transfixed, the flush on his face deepening with every jolt that shook through your frame, every moan, every cry.

"Please, H-Han," you gasped, the heat pooling in your stomach tightening to an almost painful degree. "I'm so close. Fuck, it's so good."

A low, strangled groan left his throat, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. He nodded, the movement jerky, his hand not faltering, but his face twisted, his eye searching yours.

"You can come," he breathed, his voice strained. "Y-you can come on my fingers, okay?"

The words made you throb, the permission, the idea, sending a wave of heat rushing through you. You shook your head desperately, the movement jerky and frantic, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable.

"No- No, wanna come on you, please... Please let me."

He froze, his eye wide, a choked noise dying in his throat. He stared at you for a second, the words processing, and then he let out a ragged groan, his grip tightening. "Be good and come for me, and I'll give you whatever you want."

The sound, the promise, the desperation, was all it took. Your thighs twitched, your back arching off the bed. A strangled cry fell from your lips as the heat crashed through you, the tension in your body finally snapping.

Your head fell back, the sensation of his fingers still moving, the drag, the pressure, too much, sending white hot waves through you. The orgasm tore through your frame, making your toes curl, your walls clenching around his fingers.

Your hips bucked, rolling against his hand, the movement frantic and uneven, every twitch making your vision blur. His fingers kept stroking, pressing, drawing out every second, the feeling overwhelming.

When it finally became too much, when you felt like you were drowning in the heat and pleasure, you forced yourself to pull back. Your hand shot out, grasping his wrist, a soft whimper escaping you.

"Too- too much," you managed, the words barely a whisper.

His fingers stilled instantly, and his head snapped up, his gaze meeting yours. Worry flashed across his face, and he swallowed heavily, his hand pulling free, hovering just above the mess between your thighs.

"Are-are you okay? Was that-?"

You nodded, forcing your eyes to open, a soft sigh escaping you. Your body was still buzzing, the aftershocks rippling through you, and the feeling was so good it was almost dizzying. "I-I'm okay. Better than okay."

Relief washed over his face, and his body relaxed, a shaky, uneven exhale leaving him. He leaned forward, his hand cupping your cheek, his touch light and careful, like he was afraid you might break.

"You-you really were good," he said, his voice hoarse, his breath warm on your lips. "So good."

A shiver rolled down your spine, his praise lighting up every nerve ending. But the sound of his voice, the look on his face, sent a pang through you. He looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and you could see the hunger in his eyes, the desperation.

Your chest heaved, the remnants of your high still trembling through your limbs, but it wasn’t enough, not with him looking at you like that, not with his hand still cupping your cheek so tenderly it made your heart ache. His eyes were dark and shining, his lips parted, his body taut with restraint, and the hunger in his gaze set something wild and desperate loose inside you.

“Hannie,” you whispered, your voice raw and breathless, “I want more. Please.”

He froze, his thumb stilling against your skin, and you could see the panic flicker across his face again. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his breath catching like he couldn’t quite draw air. “More? Y-you mean...”

“Yes.” You surged forward, your forehead pressing against his, your words spilling out in a rush. “I can take it. I promise I can. I need you, please, Han.”

His lips parted, but no words came out at first, just a shaky breath that quivered against your mouth. He pulled back enough to search your face, his brows pinched together, his eyes glassy with a mix of fear and need.

“You don’t... you don’t know what you’re saying,” he murmured, his voice breaking low and rough. His hand slipped from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, holding you steady as if you’d vanish otherwise. “If we do this- if I lose control- I can’t... I don’t want you to regret it.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten, your heart swelling painfully with affection even as your body burned hotter with want. You caught his gaze, your own eyes fierce through the haze of need.

“I’d never regret you,” you said firmly, the words trembling with truth. “Not ever. I want this- I want you. All of you.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes fluttering shut like your words had struck him deep, his grip on you tightening. For a moment you thought he’d pull back again, that he’d retreat into his fear, but then his forehead dropped against yours, his breath hot and ragged, and the last thread of his restraint snapped.

“God... you’re gonna ruin me,” he whispered.

And then he kissed you, his mouth crashing into yours with a desperation that knocked the air from your lungs.

His lips were searing hot, the kiss bruising and hungry, the taste of him driving you crazy. His tongue dragged along your bottom lip, seeking entrance, and when you granted it, he dove deeper, licking into your mouth, taking what he needed.

A strangled, broken sound rumbled from deep within his chest, vibrating into your mouth, and his fingers flexed against your skin, the touch desperate and possessive. You could feel the last of his restraint slip away, the kiss melting the final wall he was holding up, the barrier between him and the desire he had for you.

A soft moan escaped your lips, and your hands clutched at his shoulders, tugging him closer. The sound spurred him on, the kiss deepening, the urgency, the need, only growing more fervent. He kissed you like he was starving, the taste of him setting fire to every inch of you.

The feel of him, his hand sliding to the nape of your neck, the other gripping your waist, the way his mouth moved against yours, it made the ache grow, the heat pooling inside, making your head spin, the tension starting to grow again.

Your hand moved down, sliding over the smooth skin of his torso down to his hips. Your fingertips traced the line of his V-line, the feeling making him twitch and jump. You could feel the shape of him through his sweats, and a small, desperate whimper left your throat at the size.

You dragged your fingers over the obvious bulge, the touch tentative, teasing, but it was enough to draw a sharp gasp from his lips. His hand tightened around the nape of your neck, his breath coming in short, ragged pants, and a shudder rocked through him, his body jolting like he was trying to stop himself from bucking against your touch.

A low, desperate groan spilled from his throat, his hips rolling, and then his hand shot out, grabbing yours and pulling it away. He broke the kiss, his breath coming in harsh, uneven gasps, his eyes glassy and wide.

Then, you lowered until your back met the mattress, his eyes followed you all the way down.

Han’s breath was still ragged, his chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon. But when your back met the mattress, he hovered above you, something in his expression shifting. The panic that had clouded his eyes seemed to melt into something darker, hungrier. His lips descended again, but not to your mouth this time, he pressed them to your collarbone, trailing lower, slow kisses and warm breaths ghosting over every inch of skin he could reach.

You squirmed beneath him, your body already hypersensitive from everything you’d put each other through. Each kiss, each scrape of his teeth, each brush of his tongue over your skin made your back arch, a shaky whine spilling out of you. Your fingers buried in his hair, tugging him closer, your voice trembling as the words fell out unrestrained.

“H-Han, please… I can’t- need you so bad…”

The begging seemed to snap something in him. His kisses grew hotter, more insistent, and his hands clamped over your hips with a strength that made your stomach twist in anticipation. Each press of his lips was needier than the last, trailing down, down, until his mouth hovered at your lower stomach. He paused there, chest heaving, his breaths shaky and uneven, and then without another word, his hands slid lower.

You felt your heart seize as his fingers hooked into the waistband of his sweats. The room seemed to shrink around you, your pulse pounding in your ears. Slowly, then with a sharp tug, he shoved the fabric down and freed himself.

Your breath hitched so violently it hurt.

Your eyes widened, taking in the sight before you, and every coherent thought dissolved. Pressed against his stomach, thick and flushed, he was nothing like you’d imagined; he was more. So much more. The outline you’d felt straining against his sweats hadn’t lied, but seeing him bare left you dizzy, your body tightening with a mix of awe and aching need.

He was big, veiny, and to add on he had the girth and length that made you clench instinctively.

It was intimidating, almost frightening in its size, but that fear was swept away by something stronger: pure admiration. The way he sat heavy and full, the heat of him so close, all of it for you, only you. A shudder coursed through you as the words tumbled out, raw and reverent.

“Hannie... fuck...”

The sound of your voice seemed to strike him harder than anything else had tonight. His whole body went rigid, his eyes snapping up to meet yours. Panic flickered sharp and unguarded across his face, a strangled sound breaking in his throat as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. His fingers tightened painfully in the sheets at your sides, his knuckles paling.

“I-I know,” he stammered, his voice ragged, his gaze darting away like he couldn’t bear to see your reaction. “It’s- I can-”

“No.”

The single word left your lips before you could stop it. His head jerked back toward you, his eyes widening, panic written clear across his expression.

“What? No?” he whispered, his voice breaking like he was bracing himself for the rejection he’d feared all along.

Han’s body went taut, every muscle in him coiled like a spring about to snap. His hands fisted in the sheets at your sides, his chest heaving with shallow, uneven breaths. You could see the way his jaw clenched, the tension in his neck, the pain etched across his features. He looked like he was at war with himself, like every nerve in his body was screaming to give in, but the weight of his restraint was chaining him down.

“I-I can’t,” he rasped, his voice low and raw, his gaze flickering over your face with a desperate sort of panic. “You don’t understand... I’ll hurt you.” His hand twitched as if he wanted to touch you, to soothe you, but he pulled it back, curling his fingers into a fist against the mattress. His flushed face, the furrow of his brow, the way his bottom lip trembled under the pressure of his teeth, he looked like denying himself was physically painful.

Your heart pounded, not with fear, but with sheer need. You reached up, cupping his cheek, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Sungie,” you whispered, breathless, needy. His lashes fluttered, his gaze finally locking with yours, glassy and pained. “I can take it. I want to take it. Please.”

His face twisted, like your words both fed his hunger and tore at the fragile threads of his control. “No, no, you’re saying that now, but-" He cut himself off, swallowing hard, his chest rising in a shudder. “I don’t want to ruin you.”

The ache between your thighs pulsed hotter at his words, your own desperation drowning out any nerves. You tugged at his wrist until his hand pressed against your waist, then guided it lower, urging him to feel how badly you were soaking, how ready you were. “Ruin me,” you insisted, your voice quivering, tears of need brimming at the corners of your eyes. “You’ll make me yours. Isn’t that what you want? Because I want it so bad, Han. I need it. I need you.”

His breath hitched, his eyes darkening, pupils swallowing the warm brown until they were almost black. He looked wrecked, torn apart by the force of your pleas. His free hand came up to press over his mouth, muffling the low, guttural sound that slipped past his lips. His hips shifted unconsciously, the weight of him brushing against your thigh, and you felt the tremor that racked his entire body.

“I- God, you don’t know what you’re asking,” he whispered through his fingers, his words muffled, desperate.

“I do,” you shot back, your voice breaking around the edges. You arched up into him, pressing yourself closer, rolling your hips just enough that the damp heat of your core brushed against the base of him. The contact sent a jolt through your body, a soft moan spilling from you as you clung to his shoulders. “God, please.”

He made a strangled sound, his fingers tightening on your hip. A shudder rolled through him, the heat of his skin flushing hotter against yours. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, the words coming out raw and uneven.

"Are you-are you really sure?"

You nodded frantically, your legs shifting around him. You wrapped one leg around his waist, trying to pull him closer. The friction drew a whine from you, the feeling too much and yet nowhere near enough.

"Yes, yes, please. Please, I can't wait anymore."

A ragged exhale left him, his hips rolling down instinctively. His head dipped lower, his face pressed into the crook of your neck, and a broken sound rattled out of him. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin, his voice barely a whisper.

"Okay, but stop me if you're hurt."

He pressed his lips to the underside of your jaw, a soft apology, and then his hands were on your thighs, spreading them wider, pushing you into the mattress. He lifted himself up, the weight of him easing back until the tip of him pressed against your entrance.

A shiver rolled down his spine, and his brows pinched, a groan falling from his lips. His hands dug into the skin of your thighs, his eye squeezing shut, his head dipping lower as if the sight alone was too much.

His voice was a strained whisper. "Okay, I'm going to start, but-"

"Just- Just do it, Hannie, please, please, please."

The begging seemed to do the trick.

His jaw clenched, a ragged exhale escaping him, and then his hands slipped from your thighs to the sheets, caging you in.

"O-Okay," he murmured, his tone low and soft. His breath hitched as he shifted, his body lining up, his chest heaving. His voice was tight and strained when he spoke, like it took every ounce of willpower he had to hold back. "Tell me if it's too much."

You could only nod, your breath catching in your throat, your fingers clutching at his shoulders, your thighs tightening around his hips. You were aching for him, the tension coiling in your core, and the feel of him, the heat, the girth, made the pressure even more intense.

He pressed forward, the tip slowly sinking inside, stretching you, the feeling making your head spin. He was so thick, the pressure bordering on painful, and it was enough to send a flicker of doubt through you.

Your thighs tensed, a shudder rolling down your spine, your body stilling as the discomfort flared. Your eyes shut tightly, feeling the sting of the stretch that felt so good but so overwhelming.

When you finally forced your eyes open, your vision swam for a moment before it settled on him. Han hovered over you, his arms trembling where they held himself up, his forehead slick with sweat, his lips parted as broken whimpers slipped through. His whole body shook with the effort of keeping still, his chest heaving like he was barely holding himself together.

The sight alone nearly stole your breath. His lashes fluttered, his gaze unfocused for a second, before he caught himself, dragging in a sharp inhale. You could see the muscles in his jaw tense as he tried to rein in the desperation coursing through him. Slowly, carefully, he blinked down at you, his glassy eyes locking with yours.

“Are-” his voice cracked, breaking into a quiet whine before he steadied it, low and hoarse, “are you okay?”

You could only nod, your throat too tight to form words. The sting was still there, sharp and stretching, but underneath it pulsed a sweetness, a fullness that left you dizzy. The way he was watching you, his eyes wide, frantic, almost worshipful, made the discomfort easier to bear.

Your fingers tightened against his shoulders, your nails pressing lightly into his skin. “Y-yeah,” you managed, the word barely more than a breath.

Relief washed over his expression instantly, his lips parting in a shaky exhale, his shoulders slumping as though the weight of your answer had steadied him. He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath hot and uneven. “God... you feel-” he cut himself off with another strangled whimper, his body trembling against yours.

The sound of it, the way his control frayed at the edges just from being inside you, sent a shiver racing down your spine.

You bit your lip, the sting already starting to fade, leaving a dull, aching fullness. You squirmed a little, just enough that he shifted deeper, and the friction lit a fire in your veins, the pleasure washing over you so sharply that your eyes watered.

Your legs twitched, and you arched up, rolling your hips, seeking more of him, more friction, more of the heat that was burning you alive. The movement made his breath hitch, and a broken moan fell from his lips. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, the words muffled, his hands fisting in the sheets.

"You-you keep pushing me."

You felt the vibration of his voice ripple through you, the heat of him making you shudder.

Your fingers dug into his skin, the tension winding tighter, the ache growing, the fullness sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. Your body burned, the desire pooling low, hot, the feeling so strong it almost hurt.

Your body moved almost on its own, desperate and insistent, rolling up against him even as your thighs trembled. Each small shift made him sink a little deeper, made the fullness throb sharper, and your lips parted helplessly as whines tumbled out, broken and breathless.

“Hannie... please,” you begged, voice cracking, your hips working against him with a will you couldn’t control. “I need more- I need all of you.”

The words made him shudder violently, his entire frame trembling above you, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder as if hiding there would help him hold on. But you didn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Every twist of your hips dragged another raw sound from his throat, another gasp, another moan, until his control thinned to nothing.

Suddenly his hands slid down, fingers digging into your hips with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. He pinned you against the mattress, holding you completely still. Your eyes snapped open, a soft cry escaping you as the sudden lack of movement left your body aching, your core pulsing with need.

“Han-” you started, but the word cut off in a sharp gasp.

Because he moved.

With one deep, deliberate thrust, he pushed forward, sinking halfway into you. The stretch made your entire body jolt, your back arching off the bed, a cry breaking free from your throat. The pleasure and sting tangled together, overwhelming, and tears pricked hot at the corners of your eyes as you whimpered his name over and over, small broken sounds filling the room.

He leaned over you, his grip on your hips iron-strong, his eyes dark and locked on your face. The tremble in his voice was gone now, replaced with something lower, steadier, tinged with a dangerous heat.

“What’s wrong?” he breathed, his words almost a growl, a new look in his eyes that you couldn't explain. He shifted his hips, pressing in just enough to make you choke on another whimper. “This is what you pushed me for, hm?”

Your nails dug into his back, your legs trembling around his waist, your voice coming out broken and pleading. And the look in his eyes told you he was done holding back.

His gaze burned into you, so dark and steady it made your stomach flip. It was like a switch had flipped, he was gone, the trembling, hesitant boy you’d been teasing all night. What hovered above you now was something else entirely, a sharp edge of dominance rolling off him in waves.

Han’s grip on your hips tightened, holding you in place as he slowly pulled back, the stretch of him dragging along every nerve ending inside you. He paused halfway, his chest rising in heavy, controlled breaths, before lifting one hand from your hip to push his damp hair out of his face. The motion was unhurried, deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing to you just by letting you see him; flushed, messy, and completely in control.

Your breath hitched, a needy sound catching in your throat, and he smirked faintly at the noise. His eyes never left your face, watching every twitch of your expression, every flicker of pleasure and strain as if he wanted to memorize how you looked under him.

Then he eased forward again, the thick press of his cock stretching you wider. It was still careful, slow enough that your body had time to adjust, but there was a teasing edge in the way he moved. He knew what he was doing, knew that dragging it out like this, just a little too slow, dragging against your walls perfectly, would make you squirm and beg.

And it worked. Your legs trembled around his waist, your nails raked down his back, your voice cracking into whimpers. “Han... s' good, please-”

He cut you off, his lips brushing your ear as he pushed in another inch, just enough to make you cry out. “Please what?” he murmured, his voice husky, dangerous in its steadiness. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Pushed me this far just to lose your mind under me?”

Your chest heaved, your words spilling out broken and desperate, but he only did it again, pulling back slowly just to do it all over, keeping the pace maddening. Every movement was deliberate, a perfect blend of restraint and control, enough to keep you dizzy, enough to make you ache for more than he was giving.

Your eyes fluttered open through the haze, your chest heaving as you tried to ground yourself, but the moment you glanced down, your mind short-circuited. You could see him, the thick length of him still not fully inside you, your body stretched around him, struggling to take even what he’d given.

The realization made you clench tight around him instinctively, a strangled gasp ripping from your throat. The reaction tore one from his too, his breath hitched hard, his arms buckling as he toppled forward, catching himself on his elbows on either side of you. His forehead brushed yours, his face twisted with barely-contained pleasure.

“F-fuck-” The curse cracked from his lips, followed by a desperate groan. His hips jolted forward a fraction, his control slipping, and his voice spilled into your ear in ragged, broken whispers. “God, you’re... you’re so good- been so good for me... feels unreal, feels so- so good.”

Each praise vibrated against your skin, and it was too much, too overwhelming. Your brain was reduced to static, your body trembling beneath him as every word sank deeper than his thrusts. Your mouth fell open, but no coherent response would come, only needy whimpers and breathless sounds that barely resembled your voice.

“Hannie-” you gasped, the single word mangled by the sob of pleasure that followed. You couldn’t string the rest together, couldn’t tell him what he was doing to you, how you were unraveling. Instead, your hands shot up, clutching at his face, pulling him down until your lips found his.

The kiss was messy, desperate, your moans swallowed between his broken gasps as he eased himself deeper. The stretch made your eyes squeeze shut, your whole body seizing as he fed you more of him inch by inch, but his mouth on yours, his praise spilling raggedly between kisses, made it feel like you could take anything he gave.

Your lips stayed locked with his, desperate and messy, until the kiss softened into something slower, deeper. Han’s hips had stilled, his length heavy inside you, stretching you but not moving further. His chest pressed to yours, rising and falling in sharp bursts, his lips trembling as they brushed over your mouth like he needed the contact just to keep himself steady.

You could feel it, how close he was to losing control. His restraint was ironclad, the deliberate stillness driving you insane. Every second he stayed there, not giving you more, had your insides twisting, your walls fluttering around him with helpless need.

“H-Han... please,” you babbled, your voice broken and breathless, your words spilling out before you could think. “I need you to move, I need- please, Sungie.”

His eyes squeezed shut, a shudder racking through him as your pleas ghosted against his lips. His jaw clenched, his breath ragged. “N-no,” he rasped, his forehead pressing to yours. “You're not ready.”

“I don’t care,” you gasped, your nails raking down his back. “I need it, need you-”

He cut you off with a sharp thrust forward, burying himself deeper, but stopping just short of the end. Your cry filled the air, high-pitched and raw, your legs trembling around him. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice low, shaking with effort.

But you couldn’t stop, couldn’t quiet the needy sounds spilling from you, your head tossing against the pillow as your body clenched desperately around him. The words came out slurred, incoherent, but they were enough.

Something in him snapped.

With a guttural groan, he slammed his hips forward, bottoming out inside you in one fluid, devastating motion. The sudden stretch made your vision blur, your back arching violently as a cry tore from your throat. The fullness was unbearable, sharp and hot, pain and pleasure tangling until you were trembling, your lower stomach bulging with the impossible stretch of him.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging in as you whimpered and whined, your voice breaking into sobs of his name. Tears pricked at your eyes from the overwhelming sensation, every nerve in your body lit aflame.

Above you, Han’s composure shattered. His face twisted, his mouth falling open as a guttural moan escaped him, his hips grinding down to keep you filled to the hilt. He glanced down at you, his dark eyes drinking in your shaking body, the way you clung to him, the outline of himself pressing against your stomach.

A cocky, breathless smirk curved his lips, even as his voice trembled with the weight of his own pleasure. “What happened, baby?” he murmured, his tone low and teasing, laced with heat. “Is it all too much now? Hm?”

The words, the look in his eyes, made your whole body shudder violently, the answer tangled on your tongue but lost in another broken cry. You felt like you were burning alive, his cock buried deep inside, the heat of him making you dizzy.

You were stretched to the point of pain, your walls twitching around him, and he rolled his hips, grinding down just enough to send sparks shooting up your spine. His lips were at your ear, his breath hot against the shell of it.

"That's it, baby," he cooed, his words a low, breathless whisper. "Look at that, you're taking me so well."

His praise had tears streaming down your cheeks, a shudder rolling down your spine as the ache flared hotter, brighter, a blinding white. You writhed beneath him, the friction, the pressure, the fullness, it was so intense it was almost unbearable. Your thighs tightened around his hips, your toes curling, your back arching desperately as you clung to him, trying to anchor yourself through the wave of pleasure.

Your mind was gone, completely blank save for the overwhelming stretch of him inside you, the way your body shook beneath his weight, the heat that seared through every nerve. You tried to speak, to beg, to tell him how much you needed him, but all that came out were breathless sobs and broken whimpers.

Han’s reeled as he watched you unravel, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temple. He thrusted shallowly once, twice, just enough to make your walls spasm around him again, and you cried out, your head tossing back against the pillow.

“Can’t even talk now, huh?” he muttered, his voice rough, his tone laced with mockery and adoration all at once. “You wanted this so bad, pushed me so far, look at you now.”

His hand slid up suddenly, fingers curling around your jaw with firm pressure. He tilted your head back, forcing your teary eyes to lock on his before guiding your gaze downward. You followed, vision hazy, and the sight knocked the air from your lungs: the unmistakable bulge in your stomach where he stretched you, pressed deep.

“See that?” His voice dropped lower, husky, vibrating against your lips as he leaned closer. His other hand pressed down lightly on the swollen curve of your belly, and the sensation made you dizzy, your body convulsing around him. “That’s me. All of me. Right here inside you.”

You were incoherent, babbling nonsense, your hands clawing at his arms as tears streamed freely down your cheeks. The sight seemed to spark something wicked in him.

Without pulling out, he leaned sharply to the side, stretching one arm toward the nightstand. You barely registered the sharp sound of the drawer sliding open before he came back into view, a black marker uncapped in his hand.

Your breath hitched, your vision swimming, as he pressed the tip right above the bulge on your stomach. The cool plastic dragged across your heated skin, and then bold, deliberate strokes.

“There.” He leaned back just enough to admire his work, his cocky grin widening as he recapped the marker with a click. His signature stood stark on your skin, inked just above where your body swelled around him. He bent down again, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured low, dark, and utterly possessive:

“Your reward. Your proof that you finally got what you wanted.”

The words seared into you as deeply as the ink on your skin, and your body reacted before your mind could catch up. A broken wail tore from your throat, your hips shifting helplessly beneath him, desperate for anything more he would give. The heat of him inside you, the pressure of his cock pressing against the bulge he’d just branded with his name, it was all too much, too much and not nearly enough.

Han’s eyes darkened as he watched you unravel, the tears streaking your cheeks, your lips parted in soft, breathless cries. He lifted his hand, the one still holding your jaw, his thumb swiping across your damp skin almost tenderly, though the wicked grin curving his mouth betrayed just how much he was enjoying this.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice rough and reverent all at once. His thumb pressed down at the corner of your mouth, urging it open further, watching your breath catch.

Your throat worked, but no words came, just garbled whimpers and hiccuping breaths. Your nails raked desperately down his arms, leaving faint red trails as you clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Han’s smirk deepened. He shifted his weight, his free hand sliding back down your body until his palm flattened against your lower stomach. He pressed down firmly, right where the bulge sat, and the sharp, overwhelming pressure made you choke on a sob.

“That’s me,” he murmured, leaning close until his lips ghosted your ear. His voice was low, almost taunting, laced with awe. “Deep inside you. Filling you so much I’m right here under my hand. You feel that, angel?”

Your head tossed back against the pillow, a strangled sound breaking out of you. The words blurred together in your mind, each one sparking through you like lightning, dragging you deeper into the haze of pleasure until your vision swam.

He let out a shaky groan of his own, his hips grinding down against yours, his composure fraying with every twitch of your walls around him. “God, you’re clenching so tight,” he panted, the cockiness in his tone straining against the ragged edge of his need. “What happened, baby? Thought you wanted all of me. Thought you'd be good and take it all.”

You could only moan, desperate, your tears wetting his skin as you tried to kiss him, tried to anchor yourself against the storm of sensation. He caught your lips with his, swallowing your cries as he began to move again; slow, deliberate thrusts that dragged him out just enough to slam the sensation back in when he pushed forward.

Each movement made the bulge shift under his hand, each thrust forcing another sob, another incoherent whimper from your lips. He kissed you through all of it, his tongue brushing yours, his breath hot and uneven as his words spilled into your mouth.

“My name’s written on you now.” His hips snapped forward, hard enough to steal the air from your lungs, and he growled against your lips, “You’re mine. Every inch of you.”

Han’s words melted into another rough kiss, his mouth consuming every broken sound you made. His pace shifted, his hips rolling with a new kind of precision, his length dragging along your walls with devastating accuracy. And then, he angled just right.

The blunt head of him hit a spot so sensitive it felt like your body shattered from the inside out. Your cry ripped through the kiss, muffled against his lips as your back arched violently.

“There,” he groaned, his forehead pressing to yours, his eyes dark and glassy as he watched your body writhe beneath him. His hips kept that same merciless rhythm, striking the spot again and again until your vision blurred with stars. “There you go, angel.”

Your walls fluttered helplessly around him, clenching so tight it made his breath stutter, his thrusts falter for the first time. The air between you grew thick with desperate, guttural sounds, your sobbing moans mixing with his low groans, his praises tangled with your pleas.

“Han-” you gasped, your voice caught between a moan and a whine, “I- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he cut in, his tone rough but laced with heat, his thumb dragging across your jaw where he still held you. His hips snapped harder, his cock grinding deep as your body seized around him. “You wanted this. You’re gonna take it.”

The world fractured then. Your release hit sharp and brutal, your entire body trembling as waves of pleasure crashed through you, your nails digging desperately into his skin. Your vision went white, stars scattering across your eyes as your cries echoed between you.

Han cursed, low and broken, the sound vibrating against your lips. Your spasming walls clenched around him like a vice, milking him, dragging him down with you. His hips stuttered, then slammed flush to yours, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled hot and deep inside you.

His moans were guttural, strangled, his head dropping to your shoulder as his whole body shook with the force of it. He stayed pressed tight, grinding through every wave until he had nothing left to give, his chest heaving against yours.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths, your mingled heartbeats pounding against each other, and the faint creak of the mattress beneath your trembling bodies. His hand finally loosened on your jaw, sliding to cradle your cheek, his lips brushing your temple in something softer, like a secret apology after all the fire.

Han shifted, slowly lifting his head, and the first thing you saw were his eyes; glassy and half-lidded, his expression so thoroughly sated and content, the sight almost made your heart stop. The second was the ink on your stomach, the signature stark and undeniable.

Suddenly, the reality of what just happened hit you. You blinked, the haze clearing as the post-orgasmic glow faded. Han pulled out of you slowly, his breath hitching as you both winced, but his eyes never left your face.

His gaze was searching, and it made your stomach flutter in a different way. There was a hesitance in the way he reached for you, his hand coming up to brush a stray tear off your cheek.

Han’s thumb lingered at the corner of your eye, brushing away the damp trail of your tears. His smirk, the one that had marked him a moment ago, was gone, replaced by something softer, almost panicked. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but he only exhaled shakily, his brows knitting together.

“You’re okay, right? I- did I... hurt you?” His voice cracked, small and hesitant, so different from the low growls he’d just had pressed into your ear. He swallowed hard, pulling back just enough to search your face, the glassiness in his eyes now threaded with worry.

You managed a weak smile, your chest still heaving. “I’m okay,” you whispered, your voice raw. “Better than okay.”

His shoulders slumped with relief, though the tension didn’t vanish completely. He slipped off the bed carefully, tugging his sweats back into place before grabbing a handful of tissues from the nightstand. His movements were awkward, rushed, like he was trying to be efficient but his hands wouldn’t quite cooperate.

When he settled between your thighs again, he wouldn’t meet your eyes, his ears flushed crimson as he dabbed gently at the mess dripping out of you. “Sorry- sorry if this hurts. I just- I don’t want you to feel... gross or anything,” he muttered, his voice soft, fumbling. His touch, though, was careful, tender, almost reverent as he cleaned you up.

You reached down, brushing your fingers through his damp hair, and his shoulders jerked at the contact. He glanced up briefly, then away again, his blush spreading further. “God, I can’t believe I didn’t even grab protection,” he blurted, panic edging his tone now. “I should’ve- I wasn’t thinking, I-”

“Han.” Your voice cut through his spiral, calm but firm. His gaze flicked back to yours nervously. “It’s okay. I... liked it. Like that.”

The silence that followed was heavy, his eyes widening, his lips parting as if he didn’t know how to process your words. His blush deepened until it stained down his neck, and he sat back slightly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “You- you can’t just say stuff like that...” he mumbled, his tone sheepish now, but his gaze darted back to you, as if to check if you were serious.

“I mean it,” you reassured softly, reaching for his hand. “I didn’t even know sex could feel that good.”

Han let out a small, disbelieving huff. He slid up beside you, laying down gingerly, like he was afraid you might bolt if he moved too fast. When he was close enough, his fingers trailed down your arm, his palm settling at the dip of your waist.

You curled into him, resting your head on his chest, and his hand tightened instinctively around you. It was only when the tension finally ebbed, his body melting against yours, that his fingertips traced the curve of your hip.

You felt him hesitate, his palm hovering over the spot where his name was written. He cleared his throat.

"I'll get you some water," he murmured, his voice a little strained. "We can wash this off before it... stains."

His words were soft, almost tentative, and they made your stomach flutter with an emotion you couldn't name. "No, it's okay." You smiled, your hand closing over his, pulling it down to your hip, pressing his palm flat. "Leave it."

Your hand pressed his palm flat against the ink, and you looked up at him with a sly little smile. “Actually... maybe I should get it tattooed. Right here.” You tilted your head innocently, though your grin betrayed you. “Permanent proof that I’m yours.”

Han’s entire body stiffened under you, his head snapping down with wide, horrified eyes. “Are you crazy?” he blurted, his ears turning crimson in record time. “You’re not- no way, you are not tattooing my stupid signature on your stomach!”

You giggled, snuggling closer into his chest, and felt him squirm at the sound. “Aw, come on. You’d love it,” you teased, poking him lightly in the ribs. “Imagine- every time you looked at me, you’d see your name. Right there. Forever.”

“Stop- don’t say it like that,” he groaned, throwing an arm over his face to hide his expression. You could still see the blush creeping down his neck, though, and it only made you grin wider.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” you whispered, dragging your fingers over his stomach just to make him twitch. “My big, scary boyfriend who can wreck me one second, and then freaks out over his signature on my stomach the next.”

“Yah,” He peeked at you from beneath his arm, scowling weakly, though his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “If you don’t seriously wash it off, or at least cover it up, I’m gonna start thinking about it again.” His voice dropped a little at the end, sheepish, betraying the thought already flickering in his mind.

Your eyes gleamed mischievously, and you leaned up, pressing a kiss to the corner of his jaw. “Oh? Thinking about what, Hannie?” you teased, your voice lilting, sing-song. “How good it looked with your name right above your cock?”

He groaned loudly, rolling onto his back and dragging his arm over his face again, his other hand clutching at your waist like he didn’t know whether to push you away or hold you closer. “You’re evil,” he muttered, his voice muffled but full of affection.

You tilted your head against his chest, lips brushing his skin as you spoke, your voice soft but teasing. “Why’s it so bad if you think about it, Hannie? I mean... I feel like I haven’t even had enough time to really appreciate your cock properly.”

He shrieks. Actually shrieks, his arm flying off his face as he stares down at you with wide, horrified eyes. His ears turned such a deep shade of red you wondered if they might stay that way forever. “W-what are you suggesting?!” His voice cracked halfway. You propped yourself up on an elbow, biting your lip to hide your grin as you looked down at him. “Relax,” you said sweetly, brushing your fingers across his jaw. “I promise we don’t have to do anything. I just...” You hesitated for effect, watching his expression flicker with both suspicion and curiosity. “I just wanna fall asleep with it in me.”

Han’s whole body jerked beneath you, his jaw dropping in pure disbelief. “Y-you- what?!” His voice was strangled, his blush now spreading all the way down his throat. “You can’t just- do you even hear yourself right now?!”

You smirked, dragging your nails lightly over his chest, enjoying the way he tensed. “Mm, but wouldn’t it be nice? I’d be full, cozy, all warm around you. And you wouldn’t even have to move. Just... stay inside me.”

He groaned, covering his face with his hand again, but this time you didn’t miss the way his hips twitched beneath you, betraying him. “You’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, voice muffled and high-pitched with embarrassment. “Seriously. You’re insane.”

But he didn’t push you away. He didn’t even protest when you shifted, sliding carefully onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his hips. His breath hitched sharply, his hand slipping away from his face to grip your waist instead, holding you steady. His eyes darted everywhere but your face, ears burning, but he still didn’t tell you no.

Instead, in the smallest, shyest voice, he whispered, “...Just be gentle, okay?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

18+ tags: light dom/sub, dom!felix, sub!reader, reader coulda topped if they didnt fuck around, praise AND a sprinkle of degradation too, dirty talk, teasing, rough, thigh fucking, mutual masturbation, sleepy sex, overstim

a/n: i'm so glad you guys actually liked the first part... i love reading your messages it makes me giggle and kick my feet fr;;; please encourage me to fight on and make more!! i love you guys <3

A week had passed.

Seven whole days of silence, and you still hadn’t texted Felix.

You’d typed and deleted the same message at least thirty times. ‘Hey, it’s me from last week. Just wanted to tell you thanks.’ Every time your thumb hovered over the send button, your stomach twisted. What if he only did it out of pity? What if he regretted it? What if he saw your name pop up and thought, 'God, she’s desperate?'

So you didn’t send anything. You just stared at his contact until the screen went dark, then locked your phone and tossed it onto the couch like it had burned you.

And then there were the notes.

Every morning for the last four days, a new one was taped to your front door. Sometimes in his handwriting, sometimes typed out like he wanted to sound calm and reasonable. I miss you. This isn’t you. Yesterday’s note had been longer, almost desperate. I’m sorry. I was scared of losing you. Please just talk to me.

The worst part wasn’t even the notes themselves. It was how sad they made you.

He never fought this hard when you were together. Never put in this kind of effort. But the second he lost control of you, suddenly he was writing love letters and leaving them on your door like some tragic movie protagonist. It made your chest ache in the worst way, not because you wanted him back, but because it proved he could have done better. He just never cared enough to try until it was too late.

You hadn’t left your apartment in three days.

The thought of running into him made your hands shake. So you stayed inside, curtains drawn, living off delivery apps and anxiety. Until tonight.

Boredom and loneliness finally won. You downloaded your old social media apps again, the ones your ex had made you delete “for your mental health.” The first story on your feed was from Sunoo, one of your old closest friends. He'd gotten too jealous of him and made you cut him off.

Beach bar tonight 🌊 Anyone’s invited, just come through. Bring good vibes 💛

It was only fifteen minutes away.

You stared at the story for a long time, thumb hovering. This time you really don’t have chains, if you went, you’d go as your old self. 

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were standing in front of your closet.

You pulled out the outfit you’d buried in the very back, the one your ex had called “too revealing” and “unflattering.” A pretty light pink bikini, a sheer white tie-front blouse that barely reached your mid-body, and a soft, short, flowy cover-up skirt with a slit up the side.

When you put it on and looked in the mirror, your stomach flipped.

You felt… naked. Exposed. The blouse was practically see-through, the skirt sat low on your hips, and the bikini top showed more cleavage than you’d shown in years. You turned sideways, frowning at your reflection. That voice whispered that you looked desperate, that people would stare, that you should change into something safer.

But you didn’t.

You straightened your shoulders, fixed your hair, slipped on some shoes, grabbed your bag, and before the fear could settle back in, you walked out the door.

-

The beach bar was louder and more crowded than you expected. Even from the entrance you could see dozens of people scattered across the sand and wooden deck, string lights glowing warm against the dark sky, music pulsing through the warm night air. For a second you almost turned around.

Instead you took a deep breath and walked deeper in.

You found the bar easily, a long wooden counter lit with colorful lanterns. You ordered a fruity cocktail mostly just to have something in your hands. While you waited, you leaned against the counter and let your eyes wander over the crowd.

That was when you saw him.

Sunoo was standing near a group of people, laughing at something someone said, drink in hand. The second his gaze drifted in your direction, his eyes widened so fast it was almost comical. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. His mouth actually fell open a little.

You watched as he quickly excused himself from the group, not even finishing whatever he was saying, and started making his way straight toward you.

Your stomach tightened. You expected awkwardness. Maybe even anger. You hadn’t seen him in almost two years.

But when Sunoo finally reached you, his expression melted into something bright and genuinely surprised.

“Oh my god,” he breathed, looking you up and down. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You look so different. I didn’t expect to see you in a place like this at all.”

You let out a nervous laugh and shrugged, suddenly hyper-aware of how much skin you were showing.

“Yeah… a lot has changed.”

He tilted his head, waiting. So you told him. Not everything, but enough. The fights. The control. The way your world had slowly shrunk until you barely recognized yourself. How you finally left him a week ago.

Sunoo listened quietly, eyes softening with every word. When you finished, he let out a long breath and shook his head.

“Sorry if this sounds insensitive,” he said, voice low but honest, “but I’m so glad you got rid of that trash. Seriously. You look happier already. Like… lighter. That outfit looks amazing on you, by the way. I always thought you had awesome style before he made you hide it.”

He gave you a soft, sincere smile that made something tight in your chest loosen just a little.

“It’s really good to see you again.”

You both grabbed fresh drinks and found a quieter spot near the edge of the deck where the music wasn’t as loud. Sunoo clinked his cup against yours with a bright smile before taking a sip.

He wasted no time pulling you back into the group. Within minutes you were surrounded by familiar faces again, old friends you hadn’t seen in nearly two years. They greeted you with wide eyes and warm hugs, clearly shocked but happy to see you. For the first time in forever, you felt like you could actually breathe around them.

Sunoo leaned in closer after a while, smirking. “Okay but real talk, next time you’re not allowed to pick the guy. Your intuition is actually terrible.”

You laughed, the alcohol already making your cheeks warm and your tongue a little looser than usual. The group chuckled along with him.

But then you shrugged and said softly, “Well…”

It turned silent for a second, the group turning to look at you with curious eyes.

You took another sip of your drink before continuing, voice a little hazy. “The day we broke up… some… guy I barely knew gave me the best head of my entire life.”

Sunoo nearly choked on his drink. His eyes went comically wide as he stared at you like you’d grown a second head.

You kept going, the words tumbling out easier now that the alcohol had loosened your filter. “But I think he’s a good guy. He looked and acted like an actual angel. Super gentle, really patient… listened to me cry for hours and still wanted to take care of me after.”

Sunoo blinked slowly, processing. “Wait… who? Do I know him?”

“His name is Felix,” you mumbled, cheeks burning as you played with the straw in your drink.

Sunoo froze. “LEE Felix?”

You tilted your head. “Well… I don’t know his last name.”

“Blonde? Long hair? Australian accent?”

Your heart skipped. “Yeah… that’s him.”

Sunoo’s mouth fell open. He actually sat up straighter, looking like he was about to jump out of his seat.

“No fucking way,” he breathed, a wild grin spreading across his face. “That’s Hyunjin’s best friend! Like… his roommate Felix. They’re literally always together.”

You let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “That actually makes sense. I met him at Hyunjin’s house party that night. I guess the universe is having fun with me.”

Before anyone could react, Jake poked his head into the circle from the side, leaning back against the railing with a casual sip of his drink. “Wait, you guys talking about Hyunjin? I’m pretty sure I saw both him and Felix down by the water like ten minutes ago. They were with some other people.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

Felix was here. Tonight. Right now.

Someone else, you think it was Jihyo,  immediately perked up with a mischievous smile. “Oh my god, this is perfect. She needs a rebound guy.”

You shook your head quickly, cheeks burning. “No. He doesn’t deserve to be used like that. I already used him once and I won’t do it again. He’s genuinely a good guy… and I don’t deserve that kind of kindness twice.”

The group went quiet for a second.

You stared down at your drink, voice softer now. “Besides… I haven’t even texted him since that night. I’ve been too nervous. What if he thinks it was just a pity thing? Or that I’m crazy?”

Minho, who had been quietly listening, leaned forward. “Okay but to be fair, it was consensual. He’s not stupid, he knew you were straight out of a relationship. You’re just way too in your head about this.”

You looked around at all of them, suddenly anxious. “Seriously though. You guys cannot spread this to anyone. I will actually kill you if this gets back to him. Please just drop it.”

They all nodded quickly, some raising their hands in surrender, others promising with mock seriousness.

Sunoo stuck to your side like glue for the rest of the night, refusing to let you slip away. He pulled you into the group and made you dance with everyone, spinning you around under the string lights until your head was spinning in the best way. For the first time in years, you laughed loud and free, catching up on missed time, inside jokes, and all of the drama that had transpired.

But after a few more drinks and a lot more dancing, the warm night air and the sound of waves crashing nearby became too tempting.

“I want to go in the water,” you announced, already tugging on Sunoo’s arm.

He laughed, raising an eyebrow. “You know people at these events never actually get in, right? It’s all aesthetic. They just stand near it and take pictures.”

You smiled, feeling bold and a little dizzy from the alcohol. “I don’t care. I’m going anyway.”

Before he could argue, you dragged him down toward the shore, kicking off your sandals and untying your cover-up skirt. You tossed it onto the sand without a second thought. Sunoo protested the whole way, but you drunkenly pressured him until he finally gave in, laughing as he waded in after you.

The water was surprisingly warm. You let out a delighted squeal as it rushed around your ankles, then your thighs. Within minutes, your fun became contagious. A few more people wandered over, then a few more, until half the party had followed. Clothes started coming off, shirts, shorts, skirts, until most people were in the water in just their bras and underwear or boxers, drinks held high above the waves, laughing and splashing each other.

You were having the time of your life, spinning in the water, the sheer blouse now completely soaked and clinging to your skin. The music from the bar drifted down to the shore, mixing with the sound of waves and laughter.

Then you stepped backward and bumped straight into someone.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry-” you started, turning around quickly.

Your heart slammed against your ribs so hard it felt like it stopped.

Felix.

He was standing right there, water up to his waist, blonde hair wet and messy, strands sticking to his forehead and neck. The white t-shirt he was wearing was soaked through, completely see-through and clinging to his chest and shoulders. He looked way too fucking hot for someone who was completely drenched.

When his eyes met yours, that soft, familiar smile slowly spread across his face, the same one that had made your chest feel tight the night you met him.

“It’s fine,” Felix said, voice soft and warm like it always was. That gentle smile stayed on his lips, water dripping from his wet blonde strands down his neck.

But the second he spoke, every nervous thought you’d been holding in for a week came rushing out.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t text you,” you blurted, words tripping over each other. “I wanted to, I really did, but I kept overthinking everything. I didn’t want you to think I was using you that night or that I was just some sad, broken girl who needed pity. I kept worrying you only helped me because you felt bad for me, like I was a pathetic little puppy or something-”

Felix cut you off gently, tilting his head.

“You look better,” he said simply.

The words hit you harder than they should have. You froze, heart pounding. He wasn’t talking about the outfit or the soaked blouse. He was talking about your face, the puffy eyes and pale, exhausted look from that night were gone. You actually looked alive again.

Butterflies exploded in your stomach, violent and overwhelming. It felt like you were fourteen again, crushing so hard it made you sick. The feeling was unnerving, almost scary, because you hadn’t felt this in years. Not this strong. Not this fast.

Felix’s voice lowered, quieter now, just for you.

“Have you been okay?” he asked, eyes searching yours carefully. The moonlight caught on his wet skin, making it glow. Water droplets clung to his collarbones and the lines of his shoulders, his soaked white t-shirt completely see-through and molded to his body. His long blonde hair was messy and dark from the water, a few strands stuck to his cheek.

He looked devastating.

You felt like Cupid had aimed straight for your heart and shot to kill.

All the words you wanted to say suddenly disappeared. Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. You just stared at him, slightly losing your balance, completely lost, heart hammering so hard you were sure he could hear it over the waves.

Felix noticed immediately. A soft, concerned smile tugged at his lips as he stepped a little closer in the water and gently placed his hand on your waist, steadying you.

“Easy,” he murmured, thumb brushing lightly over the wet fabric of your blouse. “You might’ve had a bit too much to drink, yeah?”

From the corner of your eye, you could see your friends on the shore. Sunoo, Jake, and Jihyo were blatantly staring, whispering and pointing like they were watching their favorite drama unfold live. Sunoo even had his hand over his mouth.

You swallowed hard and finally managed to speak, voice a little shaky.

“I might be,” you admitted. Then, because the alcohol had loosened your tongue and Felix’s hand was still warm on your waist, you added softly, “But every single time I see you… I’m convinced I'm in a dream.”

Felix let out a cute, surprised laugh,  the kind that made his eyes crinkle and showed his teeth. He ducked his head for a second, clearly flustered, before looking back at you with that same gentle smile.

“Are you flirting or are you talking about nightmares?”

Felix asked, his voice playful but soft.

You looked down at the dark water swirling around your waist, the moonlight rippling across the surface. The alcohol had completely removed your filter, and the words spilled out before you could stop them.

“Probably both,” you admitted quietly, voice barely louder than the waves. “Every time I see you… this patient, sweet guy who gave me undebatably the best head of my life… I get so scared I’m going to ruin something shiny and precious. Like I’ll get too close and break it.”

Felix went still for a second. Then a slow, dangerous little smile curved his lips. He stepped closer in the water, just enough so his words would hit you.

“How are you so sure it won’t be the other way around?” he asked, voice low and teasing, but there was a real question underneath it. His wet hair fell into his eyes as he looked down at you. “What if I’m the one who ruins you?”

Your heart slammed against your ribs.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and honest, the alcohol making you dangerously bold.

“Because I’m already past ruined,” you said, almost eagerly. 

The words hung between you, heavy and vulnerable in the warm night air.

And then suddenly, his playful demeanor cracked.

Felix tipped his head forward and laughed, a soft, surprised, breathy sound that made his shoulders shake. It wasn’t mocking. It was fond, almost disbelieving, like he couldn’t believe you’d just said that so openly. Water dripped from his wet hair as he laughed, the sound low and warm and so unfairly attractive.

When he finally looked back down at you, his eyes were sparkling with amusement, but there was something deeper underneath it too, something softer, almost aching.

“You can’t just say things like that,” he murmured, still smiling, but his voice had dropped again. He shook his head slightly, biting his lip like he was trying to hold back another laugh. “You’re going to kill me.”

Felix looked at you for a long second, eyes soft but sparkling with something playful. Then he let out a small sigh and gently squeezed your waist.

“I need to get you home safely before you start flirting like this with anyone else tonight,” he said, voice warm with amusement. 

You tilted your head, a tipsy little smile playing on your lips. “Don’t you wanna share?”

Felix laughed again, bright and fond, before carefully guiding you back toward the shore with a hand on your lower back. He was so gentle about it, supporting you when the waves pushed against your legs, making sure you didn’t slip on the wet sand. Every touch felt careful, like he was handling something delicate. It made your chest want to explode.

Once you reached the sand, he stayed close while you picked up your cover-up skirt and tied it back around your waist. His eyes drifted over your full outfit for the first time, the sheer wet blouse clinging to your body, the pink bikini visible underneath, the low-slung skirt. He tried so hard to be respectful, but his gaze lingered for just a second too long.

“You look…” he started, then cleared his throat, cheeks turning a soft pink even in the moonlight. “You look really nice.”

You smiled shyly, turning away before you could say anything stupid.

You said your goodbyes to everyone, giving quick hugs. Felix stayed a few steps back the entire time, watching you quietly with that same gentle expression. When you hugged Sunoo, he leaned in close to your ear and whispered excitedly,

“Dude… he is so into you. Like, painfully into you.”

You pulled back with wide eyes, but Sunoo just raised his eyebrows knowingly at you before letting you go.

Felix walked you all the way to his car, even though you were both still dripping wet. He opened the passenger’s side door for you without hesitation, not caring that water was getting everywhere. You slid in, the seat instantly damp beneath you. It felt a little romantic.

Felix jogged around to the driver’s side and got in, his own clothes sticking to his body. The white t-shirt was still see-through, clinging to his chest and shoulders in a way that made it hard not to stare. He started the car and turned the heat on low without asking, then glanced over at you with a small, soft smile.

“Warm enough?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, cheeks heating despite the chill still clinging to your skin.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, but not awkward. Soft music played from his phone, something gentle and so him. Every few seconds you’d sneak a glance at him, at the way his fingers rested on the steering wheel, at the way his wet hair curled slightly at the ends. He caught you looking once and just smiled, small and shy, before turning his eyes back to the road.

When he finally pulled up in front of your building, he parked and turned the engine off.

“You don’t have to walk me up,” you said softly, even though part of you really wanted him to.

Felix gave you a look that clearly said he wasn’t negotiating. “I’m walking you to your door.”

He got out first and came around to open your door again, offering his hand to help you out even though you were both a mess. The walk from the car to your building was slow. Your wet sandals made quiet squelching sounds with every step. Felix stayed close beside you, hands in his pockets, shoulders brushing occasionally. The comfortable silence wrapped around you like a blanket. You couldn’t stop the stupid little smile tugging at your lips, the kind that screamed I have a pretty boy escorting me to my room and you didn’t even care how obvious it was.

You would’ve kept that the entire way back, but your heart dropped the second you turned the corner into your hallway.

Your ex was there.

He was slumped against the wall directly across from your apartment door, legs sprawled out, head tipped back like he’d been waiting for hours. The sight hit you like ice water. Even from a distance you could tell he was drunk; eyes glassy, movements sloppy when he shifted. The familiar twist of fear and nausea coiled tight in your stomach.

You froze mid-step.

Felix noticed instantly. His entire body tensed beside you, shoulders squaring, jaw flexing hard enough that you saw the muscle jump. He didn’t say a word, but the calm, easy energy he’d carried all night vanished in a heartbeat.

You shot him a wide-eyed, panicked look. Your mind raced with worst case scenarios. What if your ex saw you with another guy? What if he got violent? What if he made a scene right here in the hallway? You hadn’t seen him in a full week, and now here he was, waiting for you like he still had any right to.

A violent shiver ran through you. You couldn’t tell if it was from the cold night air on your damp clothes or pure terror, but your hands started trembling at your sides.

“It’s fine,” you whispered quickly, voice shaky and small. “I can deal with him. You don’t have to-”

Felix didn’t move. He didn’t even look at you. His gaze stayed locked on your ex, expression unreadable but his presence suddenly heavy, solid, and protective.

Your ex lifted his head at the sound of your voice. His eyes widened when they finally focused on you, a sloppy, hopeful smile spreading across his face.

“Y/N…” he slurred, pushing himself up the wall unsteadily. He didn’t seem to register Felix standing right beside you at all. “You’re finally home. We need to talk. Please. You can trust me, okay? I’ve been waiting for you.”

He fumbled in his jacket pocket and pulled out the spare key, holding it up between two fingers like some kind of peace offering.

“See? I still have it, but I haven’t used it. I’ve been trying to give you space. I’ve been good, right?”

The sight of your own key in his hand made your stomach drop so hard you felt sick. He still had it. After everything he’d done, after all the control and isolation, he still had the key to your home like it belonged to him.

Felix took one slow step forward, placing himself half in front of you without a single word. His shoulders were squared, calm but unmistakably solid, a quiet wall between you and the man who used to make your world feel so small.

Your ex finally seemed to notice him. His drunk smile faltered, eyes narrowing as they flicked between the two of you. The shift in his expression was ugly, but before he could open his mouth, Felix gently placed a hand on your lower back.

“Come on,” he said quietly, voice low and steady, only for you. “Let’s get you inside.”

You didn’t argue. Your hands were shaking so badly it took two tries to get the key in the lock. Felix stayed right behind you the entire time, his body acting as a shield, blocking your ex’s view of you as much as possible.

The second the door clicked open, Felix leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, soft but firm.

You had no idea what he meant by that, but you nodded anyway. You slipped inside quickly and locked the door behind you, heart still racing. The moment you got inside, you felt a wave of feelings that were all equal that you didn’t know what to do. But the most prominent feeling was of the sand sticking to your damp skin, it was unbearable. You needed it off. Now.

You practically ran to the bathroom, stripping out of the wet clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water helped a little, washing away the sand and the sticky saltwater, but it did nothing for the storm in your chest. You stood under the spray for a long time, trying to breathe, trying to calm down.

When you finally got out and wrapped yourself in a towel, you heard a soft, hesitant knock at your front door. Your stomach flipped. Part of you wanted to ignore it. The other part was hoping to get lucky.

You padded quietly to the door and peeked through the peephole.

It was him.

You opened the door just a crack at first, then wider when you saw his face properly.

Felix stood there looking calm, almost relaxed, one hand in his pocket. But his right cheek was red and starting to bruise, his bottom lip was split and still bleeding a little, and his knuckles on both hands were raw and red.

He looked like he’d been in a fight.

Without saying anything dramatic, he simply lifted his hand and held out your spare key between his fingers.

“Here,” he said quietly, voice steady and low. “This is yours.”

You stared at the key, then back up at his face. Your mouth opened, but no words came out.

Felix gave you a small, almost sheepish smile, like he was embarrassed you were seeing him like this.

“He won’t bother you again,” he added casually, as if he were talking about the weather. “We had a conversation. He understood.”

What kind of conversation? It was hard for you to believe they talked much.

He placed the key gently into your palm, his injured knuckles brushing your skin for just a second.

You stared at the key in your palm, then back up at his bruised cheek and bleeding lip. Worry hit you first, sharp and immediate. Then came the surprise, he actually did this for you. And underneath all of that, something much hotter and more dangerous was burning through your body. The sight of him like this, calm, a little roughed up, knuckles red from defending you, was doing things to you that the alcohol definitely wasn’t helping with.

“You… you didn’t have to do that,” you whispered, voice shaky.

Felix shrugged like it was nothing. “I wanted to.”

You bit your lip, heart racing. “Come inside. Let me clean you up at least.”

He started to protest softly, “You don’t have to-” but you just looked at him, towel clutched to your chest, eyes wide and a little desperate. He stopped mid-sentence, then gave a small nod.

You led him into your apartment and straight to the bathroom, still only wearing your towel. You didn’t even think about changing. Right now, all you cared about was him.

Felix didn’t hesitate. He lowered himself onto the edge of your bathtub without being asked, legs parting just enough for you to step between them. 

Up close like this, the damage was clearer. His right cheek was already blooming into a deep bruise, and his bottom lip was split, still glistening with a fresh bead of blood. His shoulders were stiff, posture rigid like every small movement pulled at something sore beneath his skin.

You picked up a clean washcloth, running it under warm water before gently squeezing out the excess. When you tilted his chin up with careful fingers, Felix let you. His eyes stayed soft and patient, even as his jaw tightened the moment the warm cloth made contact with his lip.

He hissed quietly through his teeth, a sharp little inhale that made your stomach twist.

“Sorry,” you whispered, pulling back slightly. “Did that hurt?”

Felix gave a small shake of his head, though the tension in his shoulders said otherwise. “It’s fine. Keep going.”

You bit your lip and continued, dabbing as gently as possible around the small cut. The cloth came away with faint streaks of pink. Every time you brushed over the split, his lips pressed into a thin line, the muscle in his jaw jumping. He was trying so hard to stay still for you, but you could see the way his hands gripped the edge of the tub, knuckles still raw and red from the fight.

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” you said shyly, voice barely above a whisper. Your eyes stayed focused on his lip, too nervous to meet his gaze for long. “But… thank you. Seriously.”

Felix stayed quiet for a long moment, just watching your face while you worked. The silence in the small bathroom felt heavy, charged. The only sounds were the faint drip of the faucet and the soft rustle of the cloth against his skin.

You dabbed again, lighter this time, but he still flinched minutely. A tiny breath escaped him, not quite a wince, but close.

“Does it sting?” you asked, guilt thick in your throat.

“A little,” he admitted, voice low and rough. Then, after a pause, “Worth it.”

You froze with the cloth still pressed gently to his lip, eyes finally lifting to meet his. The air between you thickened instantly. 

His gaze was steady, darker than before, but still wrapped in that same impossible gentleness. Heat flooded your cheeks and pooled low in your belly. You should’ve been scared, someone had just gotten hurt because of you, but instead your thighs pressed together under the towel, a different kind of ache blooming.

Felix’s voice dropped even quieter, honest and almost under his breath.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the night you told me about him.”

The words landed like a stone in still water. You felt them settle deep in your chest, warm and terrifying all at once. His deep, quiet voice sent a visible shiver down your spine.

You should’ve been scared. You knew that.

But you weren’t.

Felix didn’t look away. His gaze was steady, a little darker now, but still so gentle.

“I’m not sorry,” he added softly.

For a moment the bathroom was completely silent except for the drip of water from the faucet. Then Felix’s jaw tightened. You could see it, the shift in his expression. The gentle calm cracked just enough for you to catch the anger simmering underneath.

“...Has he been showing up at your place often?” he asked, voice low but edged.

You hesitated, then nodded slowly.

“Almost every day this week,” you admitted quietly. “Notes on the door… sometimes he just sits out there.”

Felix’s whole body went tense. His hands flexed on his thighs, knuckles still raw and red. He looked away for a second, breathing through his nose like he was trying to control himself.

“You didn’t think to message me then?” The words came out sharper than you think he meant them to. There was real hurt mixed in with the frustration.

That stung.

You pulled back slightly, still clutching the towel to your chest.

“I didn’t want to feel like I was using you anymore,” you said, voice cracking with sudden emotion. “I’ve spent this entire week feeling helpless. I didn’t want you to see me like that again. I didn’t want to be someone you felt sorry for.”

Felix exhaled slowly, clearly fighting to stay calm. He ran a hand through his damp hair, then looked back at you. His eyes were dark, intense, but his voice stayed steady.

“This is different,” he said firmly. “This is your safety.”

He paused, jaw tight again.

“What if he had decided to use that key?” His voice was low, but you could hear the edge in it. “What if I wasn’t here tonight?”

The question hit you hard. Your eyes started stinging, tears blurring your vision as the weight of the past week crashed down on you all at once.

“I don’t know…” your voice cracked, barely a whisper. “I was so stuck, Felix. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so stupid and helpless again and I just… I froze.”

The second a tear slipped down your cheeks, Felix’s entire expression changed.

The anger vanished instantly, like someone flipped a switch. His eyes softened, the tension melting from his shoulders as guilt took its place. He reached out and gently pulled you closer, hands careful on your towel-covered hips.

“Shit… I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice full of regret. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I was just scared for you.”

He tilted his head to look up at you properly, thumbs brushing lightly over your hips in soothing circles.

“From now on,” he said softly but seriously, “you message me. For anything. I don’t care what time it is, or if you think it’s stupid, or if you’re overthinking it. You just text me. Okay?”

You nodded, still teary, clutching the towel tighter.

Felix’s expression stayed gentle as he reached up and wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

“I mean it,” he added quietly. “You’re not a burden.”

The bathroom felt smaller, warmer. You were still standing between his legs in nothing but a towel, freshly showered and emotional, while he sat there bruised and damp from the ocean, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

He stayed quiet for a moment, just watching you, his hands resting lightly on your hips like he didn’t want to let go.

You hesitated for a second, then asked shyly, “Do you… want to shower? You’re still all damp from the beach.”

Felix gave you a small smile and shook his head. “It’s fine. I can shower when I get home.”

You bit your lip, fingers fidgeting with the edge of your towel. Your voice came out quiet and a little hesitant.

“You can just stay here tonight… if you want.”

Before he could answer, you added quickly, “It’s late and I don’t mind. Really.”

Felix tried to hold back a smile, but you saw the corners of his lips twitch. He looked down for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay,” he said softly. “If you’re sure.”

You gave him an old oversized t-shirt and some sweatpants.

“Leave your boxers outside the door,” you told him, cheeks warm. “I’ll wash them quick so you have something clean.”

Felix looked genuinely grateful as he took the clothes from you. “Thank you. You really don’t have to do all this.”

You just handed him a clean towel and stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door gently behind you.

While he showered, you threw his boxers in the wash, then put them in the dryer for a bit. Once they were warm and clean, you folded them neatly and left them on the bathroom counter with the rest of his clothes.

By the time you were done, exhaustion finally hit you like a wave.

You flopped onto your bed, still wrapped in your towel, and the second your body sank into the mattress, everything relaxed. The fear that had been sitting in your chest all week melted away. You were safe. Felix was here. No notes on the door. No ex waiting outside.

Your eyes grew heavy, and before you could even think about changing or waiting for him to finish, you drifted off into a deep, peaceful sleep.

-

You woke up with a start at 4 AM.

The room was dark and quiet, only the faint glow of a streetlight slipping through the curtains. For a second you were confused, then everything came rushing back all at once; the beach, the water, your old friend group, Felix’s bruised knuckles, your ex outside your door, the spare key.

And Felix… Felix was here.

You sat up slowly, heart beating faster. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness and found him on the floor beside your bed. He had taken one of your extra pillows and the throw blanket, curled up on his side with his back facing you. Even in the low light you could see the soft rise and fall of his shoulders.

The confusing feelings you had earlier? They hadn’t faded with sobriety.

They were worse.

Looking at his sleeping face, relaxed, a little pouty, blonde hair messy across his forehead, made something deep in your stomach twist with want. You wanted to respectfully pounce on him. Climb on top of him. Bury your face in his neck and never leave.

You glanced down at yourself and realized you were still only in a towel. Cheeks burning, you quietly slipped out of bed, changed into soft sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt as fast as possible, then tiptoed back.

You knelt beside him on the floor and whispered gently,

“Felix…?”

He didn’t stir at first, so you tried again, a little louder.

“Felix…”

He made a soft, sleepy sound and slowly blinked his eyes open. His gaze was hazy, unfocused, and so ridiculously cute it made your chest hurt.

“You’re probably cold down here,” you whispered, suddenly shy. “I don’t mind if you come up here… the bed’s big enough.”

Felix stared at you for a second like his sleepy brain was processing the offer. Then he gave a tiny nod, too tired to argue. He grabbed the pillow and blanket and crawled onto the other side of your bed with a small, tired groan.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he settled in. He lay on his back at first, then turned onto his side facing you, eyes already slipping closed again.

You stayed on your side of the bed, heart racing so hard you were sure he could hear it. The space between you felt both too big and way too small.

You tried to sleep. You really did.

But your brain wouldn’t shut up.

Every time you closed your eyes, memories flooded in uninvited. The way he looked at you in the water, soaked shirt clinging to his chest. The low way he’d said, “What if I’m the one who ruins you?” The night in this very bed when he had his head between your thighs, fingers curling deep while he clinged onto you like it was his favorite thing in the world.

You squeezed your thighs together under the blanket, trying to ignore the heat building low in your stomach.

Felix shifted slightly in his sleep, letting out a soft, tired sigh. The movement brought a faint wave of his scent toward you, clean skin, ocean salt, and that warm, slightly sweet smell that was just him. It hit you like a drug. Your mouth actually watered.

God, what is wrong with me?

You had never been like this. Never this shameless, never this desperate. Even when you were with your ex in the beginning, it was never this intense. But something about Felix, the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he fought your ex without hesitation, was making your body react like it had a mind of its own.

You pressed your face into your pillow and let out a silent, frustrated breath.

He’s right there. Literally two feet away. Trying to sleep. And you’re over here throbbing just from his scent.

You curled in on yourself, trying desperately to keep your thoughts clean.

The more you tried to push the memories away, the sharper they became. You could still feel the ghost of his tongue between your legs, the way he couldn’t stop tasting you as if it was the best thing he’d ever had. You remembered how he acted after, how he fed you at 2 a.m. like it was the most natural thing in the world. How he bruised his own knuckles tonight just so you could sleep without fear.

And now he was lying two feet away in your bed, breathing slow and steady, smelling like warm skin and ocean and safety.

Your body was aching.

You pressed your thighs together again, harder this time, but it only made the throb worse. Heat pooled low in your stomach, slick and insistent. You bit down on your lip so hard you nearly drew blood, trying to stay quiet, trying to be good.

You turned onto your side to face him before you could stop yourself.

The room was dark, but the faint streetlight outside painted soft shadows across his face. His lashes were long against his cheeks, lips slightly parted in sleep, blonde hair messy across your pillow. He looked so peaceful it almost hurt.

You whispered his name, so quietly you barely heard it yourself.

“Felix…”

You hoped he wouldn’t hear it. You hoped he would stay asleep so you could keep pretending you were in control.

But he stirred.

His brows furrowed just a little, then his eyes slowly blinked open, hazy and unfocused in the dark. He looked at you through half-lidded lashes, still half-lost in sleep, and something in your chest twisted hard.

You couldn’t turn back now.

The moment his tired gaze met yours, the last thread of restraint snapped. You closed the distance, like a predator that had finally decided to stop pretending. You balled his shirt up in your fists, climbing on top of him. Your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. The scent of him, clean skin, faint salt, something warm and sweet that was purely Felix, wrapped around you and made your head spin.

You leaned in slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

Your lips brushed the side of his neck in the softest, tiniest peck. Just a warning. A hesitant question. A barely-there press of warmth against his pulse point.

Felix’s breath hitched.

You felt the small jolt go through his body, the way his shoulder tensed for half a second before relaxing again. He didn’t speak. He just stayed perfectly still, as if he thought he was in a dream.

That tiny bit of responsiveness made something inside you snap.

You kissed his neck again, slower this time, lips lingering. Then another, a little lower, open-mouthed and warm. You could feel his pulse jumping under your mouth, fast and unsteady now. His skin was still slightly cool from the shower, but it warmed quickly under your touch.

A soft, sleepy sound escaped him, not quite a moan, but close enough to make heat flare between your legs.

You pressed closer, one hand sliding tentatively up his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. Your lips moved higher, brushing just beneath his ear, then back down the column of his throat. Each kiss was deliberate, drawn-out, like you were savoring every second. You could taste the faint salt of the ocean still clinging to him, and it made you dizzy.

Felix’s breathing had changed. It was deeper now, each exhale brushing against your hair. His hand found your waist under the blanket, fingers curling gently into the fabric of your t-shirt, but he didn’t pull you closer or push you away. He just held on, letting you lead, like he was still half-convinced this might be a dream.

You nipped lightly at the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder, and this time the sound he made was unmistakable, low, breathy, and so fucking pretty it made your thighs clench again.

You pulled back just enough to look at his face.

His eyes were open now, darker than before, watching you with that same gentle intensity that always made your stomach flip. His lips were parted, cheeks faintly flushed even in the dim light.

You felt exposed, reckless, and so turned on it was almost embarrassing.

But you didn’t stop.

You leaned in again, lips hovering just above his neck, breath warm against his skin, waiting for him to say something, anything, that would tell you to keep going.

Felix didn’t speak.

Instead, his fingers tightened slightly in the fabric of your t-shirt, a silent, sleepy encouragement. His head tilted back just a fraction, offering you more of his neck like he couldn’t quite form the words but wanted you there anyway.

That small movement broke the last of your hesitation.

You pressed your lips to his throat again, slower this time, open-mouthed and deliberate. You kissed down the column of his neck, savoring the way his pulse jumped under your tongue. When you reached the spot just below his ear, you sucked lightly, then scraped your teeth across it.

Felix let out a soft, broken sound, half sigh, half whimper, his body shivering under your touch. His eyes fluttered, still heavy with sleep, but his breathing had grown ragged.

You unashamedly let your thigh move, pressing between his legs until you felt the unmistakable hardness of him straining against the sweatpants. The moment you brushed against his cock, Felix’s breath hitched sharply, a quiet, broken sound escaping his throat.

He was already getting hard.

The realization sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through you, slick and dizzying. You rocked your thigh just once against him slowly, deliberately, savoring the way his hips twitched up to meet the pressure even while his brain was still half-asleep.

Felix’s head tilted back further into the pillow, exposing more of his neck to you like an offering. 

You dragged your mouth lower, kissing and sucking along his collarbone. Every press of your lips drew another quiet reaction from him, a shiver, a tiny roll of his hips, his fingers tightening in the back of your shirt like he needed something to hold onto.

The tension in the room was suffocating in the best way.

You could feel how wet you were, soaking through your sleep shorts already, and the ache between your legs was growing unbearable. 

Felix’s breathing was ragged now, uneven little pants that brushed against your hair. His eyes were barely open, dark and glassy, watching you through heavy lashes like he was caught between sleep and pure want. He wasn’t guiding you, wasn’t rushing you, he was simply letting you have him, completely pliant and soft under your touch.

It made you feel feral.

You leaned in closer, lips hovering just above his throat without touching. You let your warm breath ghost over his skin instead, slow and deliberate. Felix shivered hard, a quiet, needy sound escaping him as his head tilted back again, chasing the almost-touch.

You smiled against the air between you and moved higher, pressing the softest kiss to his bruised cheek, right over the blooming red mark. Then another, even gentler, just at the corner of his mouth near the small cut on his lip.

Felix whimpered, a low, frustrated little noise that sent electricity straight down your spine. His hips twitched up against your thigh, seeking more pressure, but you kept your movements light and teasing, only giving him the barest friction.

You dragged your lips back down to his neck again, breathing hotly against his pulse point without kissing him. Just hovering. Just teasing.

His hand on your waist tightened, fingers digging in as another soft, desperate sound left his throat.

“Mm… Y/N…” The word was barely formed, sleepy and rough, like he couldn’t quite get his mouth to work properly yet.

The more you teased, ghosting kisses, warm breath, feather light touches of your lips, the more audibly frustrated he became. His breathing turned into soft pants, tiny whimpers slipping out every time you pulled away just before giving him what he wanted. His cock was rock hard against your thigh now.

You were drunk on the power.

Until suddenly;

Felix flipped you.

In one smooth, surprisingly strong movement, he rolled you onto your back, hovering over you. His messy blonde hair fell around his face like a curtain as he looked down at you, eyes still heavy with sleep but burning with something much darker now.

His voice was raspy, low, and wrecked when he finally spoke.

“You’re teasing me…”

He leaned down slowly, lips brushing against your ear as his hand slid up your thigh, gripping it possessively.

“…when I’ve been trying so hard to be good and let you sleep?”

His hips pressed down between your legs, letting you feel exactly how hard and needy he was. The sudden shift in control made your breath catch.

Felix’s lips hovered just above yours, not kissing you, just mirroring the way you’d teased him moments ago.

His breath was hot against your mouth as he spoke, low and rough.

“You like teasing me when I’m half asleep?” he murmured, hips rolling down in one slow, deliberate grind that pressed his hard cock right against your soaked core. “Now you get to feel what that’s like.”

Before you could answer, his hand slid up your thigh roughly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushed your leg wider. He rocked against you again, harder this time, the thick ridge of his cock dragging right over your clit through the thin layers of fabric. The friction made you gasp, back arching off the bed.

Felix didn’t give you time to recover.

He dropped his head to your neck and bit down, not gentle, not like before. His teeth sank into the same spot you’d been teasing on him, sucking hard enough to make you whimper loudly. 

You were losing your mind.

Every roll of his hips gave you just enough pressure to drive you crazy, but never enough to satisfy the throbbing need inside you. You could feel how wet you were, soaking through your shorts and probably his sweatpants too, but he kept the pace torturously controlled.

“Felix…” you whimpered, hips chasing his desperately.

He lifted his head just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, sleepy, and dangerously hungry. His bruised lip and messy hair made him look even more sinful.

Felix suddenly gripped your hip with one firm hand and pressed you down into the mattress, completely stopping all movement.

The loss of friction made you whine pathetically, hips twitching uselessly against nothing. He held you there, pinned, while his mouth continued its slow, torturous path.

He kissed up the side of your neck, wet, open-mouthed kisses that made your skin burn. Then higher, along your jaw. Then to your chin. Each press of his lips was deliberate, slow, and devastatingly gentle compared to the rough way he was holding your hip down.

Your heart felt like it was going to explode.

You had never wanted something so badly in your life. The ache between your legs was almost painful now, and every time his lips got closer to your mouth, your breath hitched harder.

But he never gave it to you.

Instead, Felix slid his hand into your hair at the back of your head and tugged, firm, possessive, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look at him.

His eyes were dark and burning as he hovered just above you, lips barely an inch from yours.

“Tell me,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Why did you wake me up?”

You tried to look away, embarrassed, but his grip in your hair kept you in place.

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered, voice shaky.

Felix’s eyes darkened. He gave your hair another gentle but firm tug, making you gasp.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said softly, almost sweetly, but there was steel underneath it. “You do know. Be honest, baby. Tell me why you woke me up.”

The pet name made your face burn with humiliation, but the need was stronger. You were soaked, throbbing, and completely under his control.

“I wanted you,” you breathed, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I wanted you so bad… I couldn’t stop thinking about the way you touched me last time. I tried to be good and let you sleep but I just… I needed you.”

Felix’s thumb dragged slowly across your bottom lip, pressing it down slightly as he tilted your head even further up. His eyes flicked down to your mouth, then back to your eyes, dark and hungry.

“So good,” he praised quietly, voice dripping with satisfaction. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He kept his lips hovering just above yours, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath but never close enough to touch. His hips rolled against you again; slow, deliberate, the pressure was perfect, but it still wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

You whimpered, hips chasing his desperately, but he held you down with that firm grip on your waist, controlling every single movement.

“Felix…” you breathed, voice shaky and needy.

“Hm?” He brushed his thumb over your lip again, eyes half-lidded. “What do you want, baby?”

Your face burned. The words felt too big, too forward, too vulnerable to say out loud. You tried to lean up and close the distance yourself, but he pulled back just enough to keep that agonizing inch between you.

“Tell me,” he murmured, voice low and sleepy-sweet. He rocked his hips again, dragging his cock over your clit in one long, torturous stroke. “Use your words. I want to hear it.”

You squirmed under him, thighs trembling, the ache between your legs growing sharper with every second he denied you. Your hands fisted in his shirt, pulling weakly.

“Please…” you whispered, voice cracking. “I need… I need you to…”

He tilted his head, lips brushing the corner of your mouth but never fully landing. “Need me to what?”

You let out a frustrated little sound, half whimper, half sob. The teasing was driving you insane. You were dripping, throbbing, so desperate it hurt, but saying the actual word felt terrifyingly intimate.

Felix waited patiently, thumb still stroking your bottom lip, eyes locked on yours like he had all the time in the world.

You swallowed hard, cheeks burning hotter than ever.

“I need you to…” The words died in your throat.

The reality of the situation suddenly crashed over you, you were in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts, pinned under Felix, soaked and aching, begging him to kiss you like you’d lost all control. The idea of actually kissing him felt too real, too dangerous. Your heart started racing for a completely different reason.

You chickened out.

“I… I can’t,” you whispered, voice cracking with sudden nervousness. You turned your face slightly away from his, eyes squeezing shut for a second. “I shouldn’t have woken you up like this. I’m sorry. I won’t tease you anymore. I promise.”

The silence that followed felt deafening.

Felix stayed perfectly still above you for a long moment. Then that slow, cute, but slightly intimidating smile returned to his lips, soft at the edges, but with something sharper underneath.

“So now you won’t?” he murmured, voice low and velvet-smooth. His thumb continued its lazy stroke across your bottom lip, pressing just enough to remind you how close he still was. “After waking me up… after grinding on me… after kissing my neck and getting me this hard… now you want to be good?”

You nodded quickly, embarrassed heat flooding your face. Your thighs were still trembling beneath him, your shorts soaked through, but the sudden wave of anxiety made you want to hide.

“I’ll be good,” you breathed, barely audible. “I won’t do it again.”

Felix gave a soft, amused hum, the sound low in his chest. He slowly sat back on his knees, lifting his weight off you, and looked down at you with dark, sleepy eyes. The shift left you feeling strangely exposed on the bed.

“Okay,” he said calmly. “I’ll stop teasing you…”

He paused, tilting his head slightly as he studied your flushed face.

“…on one condition.”

Your stomach fluttered. It can’t be that bad, you told yourself. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, looking up at him with wide, nervous eyes.

Felix’s gaze never left yours. His expression was gentle, but there was a quiet authority in it now.

“You obey everything I say.”

The words sent a sharp twist through your stomach. You couldn’t tell if it was excitement or nervousness, probably both. The switch in his personality felt sudden, but the way he looked at you made your pulse race.

You hesitated for only a second, then gave a small, shy nod.

Felix reached forward and gently cupped your face with one hand, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes.

“Say it,” he said softly, thumb brushing your cheek. “Explicitly.”

Your heart hammered in your chest. This version of Felix; calm, patient, but undeniably in control, felt both thrilling and a little scary. You swallowed hard, cheeks burning.

“I will,” you whispered. “I’ll obey.”

Felix hummed lovingly, the sound warm and satisfied. His thumb stroked your cheek once more as a soft smile curved his lips.

“It wasn’t that hard, hm?”

He leaned back slightly, still on his knees, and looked down at you with that calm, steady gaze.

“Sit up,” he said quietly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried weight.

You scrambled up immediately, heart hammering, until you were sitting on the bed facing him. Your hands instinctively folded in your lap, fingers twisting together nervously. You felt exposed, needy, and embarrassingly obedient all at once.

Felix watched you for a moment, eyes dark and appreciative.

Then, softer but no less commanding: “Strip.”

Your eyes widened. You stared at him, lips parting in surprise.

You weren’t sure if he was serious or not.

But that look in his eyes, patient but unrelenting, told you he wasn’t joking.

With shaky hands, you reached for the hem of your shirt. You pulled it up slowly and over your head, letting it drop beside the bed. 

Felix didn’t move. He just watched, silent and focused, taking in every inch of you.

You hesitated for only a second before hooking your thumbs into your sleep shorts. You lifted your hips and slid them down your legs, kicking them off. Then came the bra, fingers trembling as you unhooked it and let it fall away, exposing your breasts completely.

Last were your panties.

You hooked them with shaky fingers and slowly dragged them down your thighs, lifting your hips again until they slipped off your ankles. You were now completely naked in front of him.

The entire time, Felix stayed perfectly still, eyes roaming over your body. His hand had fisted tightly in the front of his sweatpants, knuckles white, like he was physically restraining himself from touching you.

He looked like he was barely holding back.

You sat there, bare and vulnerable, breathing fast, thighs pressed together. Your hands returned nervously to your lap, waiting for his next words.

“Look at you…” he murmured, eyes dark with heat. “So pretty like this. You have no idea how beautiful you are right now.”

His praise made your cheeks burn and your stomach flutter. You felt exposed, nervous, but the way he looked at you, like you were something precious and filthy at the same time, made you want to give him more.

Felix leaned forward slightly, voice dropping even softer.

“Let me see, baby.”

Your breath hitched. For a moment you hesitated, thighs still pressed tightly together. But the gentle command in his tone, mixed with that sweet edge in his voice, made it impossible to refuse.

Shyly, you parted your thighs.

Felix’s eyes dropped immediately.

The moment you spread your legs and let him see everything, how wet and swollen you were, how your folds glistened with arousal, his control visibly cracked.

He let out a shaky exhale and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, gripping the strands tightly. His head tilted down for a second, jaw clenched, sweat already forming on his forehead. You could see the way his chest rose and fell faster, like he was struggling to breathe properly.

The sight gave you a rush of confidence.

You reached down with trembling fingers, gently running them through your slick folds before shakily spreading yourself open for him, exposing your dripping entrance and swollen clit completely.

Felix choked on his own spit.

A rough, broken sound escaped his throat as his eyes stayed glued between your legs. He looked completely wrecked, chest rising and falling like he was barely holding himself together.

With trembling fingers, you started touching yourself.

You dragged two fingers through your soaked folds, spreading the wetness over your swollen clit in slow, deliberate circles. The moment you made contact, your back arched sharply off the bed, a soft, needy whimper slipping from your lips. Your hips rolled up into your own touch as you gave him the full show, spreading yourself wider, letting him see every slick glide of your fingers, every twitch of your entrance.

Felix’s gaze felt like physical touch. It was so heavy it was burning through you.

You circled your clit faster, then dipped your fingers lower, teasing your entrance before sliding one finger inside yourself with a quiet, wet sound. Your head fell back against the pillow, lips parted on a shaky moan.

“Fuck…” Felix breathed, voice hoarse.

You looked up through half-lidded eyes and saw him finally give in.

His hand moved down to palm himself through his sweatpants, gripping the thick outline of his cock and squeezing. The sight made you dizzy with want. He stroked himself slowly over the fabric, jaw tight, eyes never leaving the way your fingers moved between your legs.

Your foot slid up his thigh, trembling with need. You hooked your toes into the waistband of his sweatpants and tried to tug them down, desperate to see him properly.

Felix understood immediately.

He let out a low, rough chuckle that sounded more like a groan, then lifted his hips just enough to push his sweatpants and boxers down in one motion. His cock sprang free, hard and heavy against his stomach.

You gasped, your finger stuttering inside yourself as you clenched hard around it.

It was surprisingly pretty; thick, flushed a deep pink at the tip, with prominent veins running along the length. The head was already glistening with precum, and it twitched visibly under your stare. There was so much blood flow to it that it looked almost painfully hard, curving slightly upward.

You had never wanted to taste something more in your life.

Your mouth actually watered at the sight. You stared, unable to look away, Your hips rolled up involuntarily, pushing your finger deeper as another soft, needy sound escaped you.

“Felix…” you whined his name, high and desperate, eyes glassy as you looked up at him.

“Fuck… don’t do that,” he groaned, voice strained. His hand tightened around the base of his cock, squeezing hard like he was trying to keep himself under control. His chest was rising and falling faster now, sweat beading on his forehead as he fought the urge to touch you.

You could see how much it was costing him; the way his jaw clenched, the way his thighs tensed, the way his cock twitched in his grip every time you moaned.

“Please…” you begged, voice breaking as you curled your finger inside yourself. “Just do it… touch me. I need you.”

Felix exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes dark and wild. For a second you thought he might finally snap and give in. But he didn’t.

Instead, he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing through it, then looked back at you with that same mix of hunger and restraint.

“Get up,” he said, voice low and rough. “Turn around.”

You blinked, dazed and aching, but the command in his tone made you move without thinking. You scrambled onto your knees, turning around so your back was facing him. Your hands braced on the mattress, ass up, completely exposed to him.

Felix let out a shaky breath behind you.

“Fuck… look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself. You could hear the strain in his voice, the way he was still holding back even now.

“So fucking dirty,” he murmured, voice low and rough with restraint.

Before you could even process the words, Felix’s hand slid into your hair from behind. He gripped a fistful firmly and pushed your upper body down against the mattress.

Your cheek pressed into the sheets, ass still up high, completely exposed and vulnerable. A broken whimper escaped you at the sudden shift in control.

Felix didn’t waste time.

You felt the heat of him move closer. His cock slid between your thighs from behind, thick and heavy, gliding through the slick mess you’d made. The head of his cock dragged right along your soaked folds, teasing your entrance and clit with every slow thrust.

He wasn’t inside you. He was fucking your thighs.

One of his hands moved to the back of your neck, pressing you down firmly into the mattress, holding you exactly where he wanted you. His grip was strong, dominant, but his thumb stroked gently along your skin, a small reminder that he was still being careful with you.

“Stay just like this,” he growled, voice strained as he rocked his hips forward again.

The head of his cock nudged against your clit with every thrust, giving you just enough pressure to make your legs shake, but never enough to push inside. The thick shaft slid between your thighs, coated in your wetness, the lewd sound of skin against skin filling the room.

Felix groaned behind you, the sound raw and deep.

“Fuck… you’re so wet,” he rasped, tightening his grip in your hair as he picked up the pace slightly. “Dripping all over my cock like this… you poor little thing.”

Every thrust made the head of his cock bump perfectly against your swollen clit. The friction was maddening, close, but never quite enough. You whimpered and tried to push back against him, desperate for more, but his hand on the back of your neck kept you pinned down.

He leaned over you, chest brushing your back, lips close to your ear as he continued fucking your thighs with slow, deliberate strokes.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he whispered, voice dark and sweet at the same time. “Woke me up just so I could use you like this…”

His cock slid through your folds again, the head catching on your entrance for a split second before gliding back up to tease your clit.

You were trembling, moaning into the sheets, completely at his mercy.

Felix’s grip on the back of your neck tightened slightly, pulling your head back so he could speak directly into your ear. 

“Look at you,” he groaned, hips snapping forward harder, the thick length of his cock dragging messily between your thighs. “So fucking desperate… pushing this wet little pussy back on me like you’re dying for it.”

Every thrust made the head of his cock bump and glide over your swollen clit, giving you maddening bursts of pleasure that never quite tipped you over the edge. You could feel how slick you were making him, your arousal coating his entire length, making the slide obscenely wet and loud.

You whined helplessly, trying to rock back against him, but his hand on the back of your neck kept you firmly pressed into the mattress.

“Felix… please…” you gasped, voice muffled against the sheets.

He let out a dark, breathy chuckle against your ear, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

“Please what, princess?” he taunted softly, slowing his thrusts until they were torturously shallow, just the head of his cock just barely grazing your clit before pulling back again. “You want me to stop teasing? You want to cum?”

He punctuated the question with a particularly slow grind, letting the thick head nudge against your dripping hole before sliding up to rub firmly over your clit.

You moaned loudly, legs shaking violently.

You were so close it hurt. The ache had turned into a deep, throbbing need that made your eyes sting with frustrated tears. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“I want you to use me,” you sobbed into the sheets, voice breaking. “Please, Felix, just use me like I’m yours. I needed this. I needed you to ruin me. Please-”

The words barely left your mouth before Felix’s entire body tensed behind you.

A low, guttural sound ripped from his throat, something between a groan and a growl. His grip in your hair tightened almost painfully, and the hand on your hip dug in hard enough to bruise.

“Fuck,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that.”

The shift in him was immediate and devastating.

His hips snapped forward with sudden, desperate force. The thick length of his cock drove between your soaked thighs harder, faster, the wet slide turning frantic and messy. Every brutal thrust dragged the swollen head of his cock relentlessly over your aching clit, the pressure firm and unforgiving, perfectly catching that swollen bundle of nerves on every pass.

You gasped sharply, the sudden intensity stealing the air from your lungs. The pleasure that had been hovering just out of reach began to coil tighter in your core, higher with every stroke. Your thighs trembled around him as you tried to squeeze tighter, desperate for more friction, but Felix kept you pinned exactly where he wanted you, chest flush against your back, one hand holding you down, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks.

He was panting against your neck now, hot and uneven, the sound of skin against slick skin filling the dark room. Each thrust grew a little sharper, a little deeper, the head of his cock grinding against your clit with filthy precision. The coil in your stomach twisted impossibly tighter, heat flooding through your veins until your entire body felt like it was burning from the inside out.

Your fingers clawed at the sheets, hips twitching helplessly under his weight as the pressure built and built, a deep, aching throb that made your toes curl and your breath come in short, broken gasps.

You shattered.

The orgasm crashed into you without warning, so violent, tearing a broken cry from your throat as your whole body seized. Your thighs clamped down around him, trembling violently while wave after wave of pleasure ripped through you. Your vision blurred, tears slipping down your cheeks as the release finally gave you what you’d been begging for.

But Felix didn’t stop.

He kept thrusting, chasing his own release with single-minded focus. His hips snapped harder, faster, the head of his cock grinding relentlessly against your oversensitive clit with every stroke. The pleasure twisted sharply into overstimulation, too much, too intense, but so good. He was lost in it, breathing harsh, low broken sounds falling from his lips as he used the tight, slick heat of your thighs.

You whimpered, high and helpless, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation, but his grip on your hip and the back of your neck kept you pinned exactly where he needed you. Every slide of his cock sent sparks shooting through your raw nerves. Your legs shook uncontrollably. The room started to tilt.

Stars burst behind your eyelids. Bright white dots danced across your vision as another helpless, broken whine tore from your throat. It was too much, pleasure and pain blurring together until you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

“Felix- ah- too much-” you sobbed into the sheets, voice cracking.

He made a soft, strained sound against your shoulder, almost apologetic, but his hips didn’t slow. His thrusts grew shorter, deeper, more desperate as he neared the edge. His cock throbbed between your thighs, impossibly hard, the wet sounds between you absolutely filthy.

You were seeing stars again, vision spotting, body trembling violently as another sharp wave of overstimulation crashed through you. A choked whimper slipped out, tears soaking the sheets beneath your cheek.

And then everything faded.

When you opened your eyes again, the world felt soft and distant.

The first thing you noticed was the gentle, rhythmic stroking of fingers through your hair. Slow, absentminded, impossibly tender. The second was how clean you felt; skin fresh, no sticky mess between your thighs, wearing a soft oversized t-shirt that smelled faintly of Felix. The blankets were tucked snugly around your body, warm and secure.

You blinked slowly, trying to orient yourself. The room was dim, lit only by the soft blue glow of the television across from the bed. A quiet show murmured in the background, volume turned low.

Felix was sitting up against the headboard beside you, one leg stretched out, the other bent slightly. His attention was locked on the screen, but his hand never stopped moving, fingers gently carding through your hair, occasionally brushing a stray strand away from your face with the kind of absent affection that felt almost too intimate.

The sight made your heart squeeze so hard it actually hurt.

This was so strangely domestic. So normal. Like you’d done this a hundred times before, waking up to him playing with your hair while he watched TV. The contrast from the raw, desperate way he’d fucked your thighs earlier to this quiet tenderness made something deep in your chest ache with a warmth you weren’t ready to name.

You wanted to stay like this forever.

So you didn’t move. You kept your breathing slow and even, eyes half-lidded, pretending you were still asleep. You wanted a few more seconds, maybe minutes, of this quiet version of him. The one who cleaned you up, dressed you, tucked you in, and now sat here like it was the most natural thing in the world to take care of you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

WARNINGS: smut (obv), multiple orgasms (f + m rec), felix is an experienced pussy eater, munch felix, fingering (f rec), hair pulling, thigh fucking

The decision had been unanimous.

Game night was happening, no excuses. The guys had declared it a celebration for you finally “getting better,” though you were pretty sure they just wanted an excuse to go all out before their schedules became too hectic. They had a full week ahead, packed to the brim with rehearsals, recordings, and commitments.

And you, well, you had spent the entire day inside your own head.

No matter how hard you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts kept circling back to Felix.

It wasn’t even a question anymore, you liked him. You had figured that much out, though the realization had done nothing to help the growing ache inside you. Because liking him didn’t mean he liked you back. Not in the same way.

Sure, it wasn’t normal to make out with your friends. It wasn’t normal to touch them the way you had. It wasn’t normal to watch them come apart under your hands, gasping and trembling and so devastatingly beautiful that the memory alone had you pressing your thighs together all over again.

But Felix had said it himself.

Just once. (Two times...)

Like it was something to be forgotten. Like it was something that shouldn’t have meant anything.

And if he didn’t want it to mean anything, then… what did that make us?

The thought made your stomach twist, doubt creeping in like an unwelcome whisper. Had you crossed a line? Had you pushed too far, let your selfish desires take precedence over his comfort?

You hadn’t asked. Not really. You had just… reacted, lost in the heat of the moment, swept up in the way he had looked at you, the way he had sounded, breathless and desperate, breaking apart under your touch.

Had you misread him? Had he only gone along with it because you had pushed?

The thought made your chest tighten painfully.

But then you remembered his words.

"you won’t run away after?"

He had asked you that. If he had felt uncomfortable, he would’ve told you. Right?

And yet, knowing that didn’t stop the weight pressing down on your chest, didn’t stop the anxious knot forming in your stomach as you lay curled up in bed, staring at the ceiling.

You wanted to see him.

Not just because you were still pent up, still aching from earlier, but because the idea of avoiding him, of really avoiding him, made you feel like you were drowning.

You couldn’t run, And you didn’t want to.

But at the same time, the idea of going up to him, of acting normal, felt impossible. You had no idea what to say, how to look at him without giving yourself away. What if you made things even weirder? What if-

A sudden knock on your door snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts.

"Yah, you better not be bailing on game night," Jisung’s voice rang out, muffled through the wood. "We already decided. If you’re in there with another mystery illness, I will drag you out myself."

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. Of course he wasn’t going to let you off the hook that easily.

Another voice chimed in, Changbin this time. "Are you scared I'm going to kick your butt?"

"Nobody is scared of that," Jeongin added, amusement lacing his voice. "Nobody."

There was a murmur of agreement from the others, and you could practically hear Changbin's expression behind the door.

You sighed, forcing yourself to sit up.

You couldn't stay in here all night. No matter what you felt, no matter what had happened between you and Felix, the guys deserved better than that. And it's not like you were going to be alone with Felix anyways. There would be no way to even have that talk until much, much later.

Besides, it had been a while since you'd seen the other members, let alone interacted with them in a relaxed way like this.

So you steeled yourself, pushing your anxieties and worries aside for the moment, and made your way to the door, opening it with a smile that felt almost natural.

"I'm here," you announced, giving a little mock bow.

Jisung crossed his arms, looking you up and down with mock suspicion. "Took you long enough. We almost resorted to breaking your door down."

Minho scoffed. "I was just gonna let them rot in there."

You rolled your eyes, lips twitching despite yourself. "You should've let me, what game are we playing?"

"We’ve got a lineup," Hyunjin said, slinging an arm around your shoulder as he steered you toward the living room. "Some Mario Kart, some Uno, maybe something else. It’s gonna be a bloodbath."

You let them guide you into the space where everyone was already sprawled out on the couches and floor, setting up the Switch and shuffling through stacks of games.

And then your gaze landed on him.

Felix was sitting cross-legged on the floor, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a controller already in hand. He looked up at the exact moment you did, his eyes meeting yours.

Your breath caught, heat creeping up your neck, and suddenly it was like your body remembered everything from earlier. The way he had shuddered under you, the way he had looked at you, pupils blown wide, lips parted, voice wrecked-

You tore your gaze away, forcing yourself to focus on anything else. The couch. The snacks. The ridiculous arguments already breaking out between Seungmin and I.N over who was sitting where.

Act normal.

"Hey," Felix’s voice was softer than the others, quiet enough that it was meant just for you.

You swallowed, forcing a small smile as you moved to sit down near him, keeping a careful amount of space between you. "Hey."

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes before he turned back to the game screen, adjusting his grip on the controller.

You clenched your hands together in your lap, pressing your thighs together, willing yourself to not think about how close he was.

Jisung plopped down next to you, completely oblivious to the way your entire body was warring with itself. "Alright, losers. No mercy."

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus. It’s just a game. You’ve played this a million times. Just concentrate.

The race countdown began, the screen lighting up as the first match of Mario Kart kicked off. You gripped your controller, determined to shake off whatever ridiculous spell Felix had on you.

And then you made the mistake of glancing at him again.

His hands moved with expert precision, veins on his forearms prominent as he worked the controller effortlessly. His fingers; a little shorter but beautiful, dexterous- flicked over the buttons with ease, thumb pressing down hard on the joystick as he maneuvered his kart. You swallowed, watching how they twitched with each slight movement, how fast they were-

You nearly missed the start. Your character jerked forward awkwardly while everyone else sped ahead.

"Yahh," Jisung laughed, bumping his shoulder into yours. "You know you have to move, right?"

"I- I was," you said quickly, adjusting your grip. "Just had a bad start."

Felix, still focused on the game, didn’t look at you. But he smirked. He fucking smirked.

Your stomach clenched.

You tried to focus, tried to shake it off, but then his tongue darted out, wetting his lips before catching the bottom one between his teeth. And god, it was such a casual thing, something so innocent, but why did it make your breath hitch? Why was your brain suddenly short-circuiting over something so simple?

You had barely recovered from that when Seungmin’s kart sent Felix spinning off-course, and he let out a low groan, deep and annoyed, his jaw clenching as his tongue pressed into his cheek.

Oh.

Oh, that was so fucking hot, and unfair.

Heat rushed through you, making your grip on the controller falter. Your entire body felt tight, restless. The way he shifted slightly, adjusting his position with that focused expression, the way his sleeves bunched at his elbows, exposing more of his forearms-

You missed a turn entirely.

Your kart slammed straight into a wall.

"Wow," Changbin snorted. "Did being sick mess up your eyesight?"

You cleared your throat, trying to recover. "No! no, I'm just- just warming up."

"Sure you are," Jisung teased.

Felix still didn’t say anything, but you swore you saw his fingers tighten on his controller for a fraction of a second.

You sucked in a deep breath and tried to focus, tried to play like you normally would, but it was impossible.

Every time Felix reacted- whether it was a sharp inhale when someone overtook him or the way his knee bounced impatiently when he was trailing behind- it got to you.

By the time the race ended, you blinked at the results in horror.

Dead last.

Even the bots had beaten you.

There was a beat of silence before a chorus of laughter erupted around you.

"Wait, what?" Jisung wheezed. "How does that happen?"

"That’s never happened before," Hyunjin added, frowning at you. "Aren’t you usually, like… stupidly good at this game?"

Felix finally turned his head to look at you.

And the moment his gaze met yours, it was over.

His eyes held something unreadable, something amused yet dark, something that made your stomach do a full flip. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t.

He didn’t have to.

Because the way he looked at you, the way his gaze flickered just slightly down before returning to yours, the way his fingers twitched against the controller, said everything.

He knew.

You felt heat flood your face, your entire body suddenly feeling too warm.

You ripped your gaze away. "I- I wasn’t focusing."

"Yeah, no shit," Jisung laughed.

"Rematch," you blurted out, gripping your controller so hard your knuckles ached. "We’re doing a rematch."

Felix finally smirked. Not the small, teasing kind he had given before.

No, this one was deeper. Slower.

Like he was enjoying watching you squirm.

"Whatever you say," he murmured, voice just low enough for only you to hear.

And fuck.

You were in so much trouble.

You clenched your thighs together, your entire body coiled so tightly you felt like you might explode at any moment. You needed a distraction. Actually- nevermind, you could use less distractions.

The rematch started, and this time, you were determined to win.

Felix had gotten under your skin, but two could play at this game. If he wanted to tease you, if he wanted to smirk at you like that, look at you like that, then fine. You’d give him something to react to, too.

As soon as the race began, you leaned forward slightly, getting into it, letting your knee press against his. It was subtle, barely there, but you knew he felt it.

His fingers twitched.

You pushed forward, knocking him slightly off-course, earning a sharp inhale from him as his kart swerved.

"Playing dirty?" he murmured, not taking his eyes off the screen.

You tilted your head innocently. "What, me?"

He huffed out something close to a laugh, shaking his head.

The game quickly turned into a war between just the two of you. The others were playing, sure, but it didn’t matter. It was you versus him. Every drift, every shortcut, every item thrown, it was all just to one-up each other.

When he overtook you, you let out a quiet, breathy whine of frustration, just loud enough for only him to hear.

His fingers twitched again.

You smirked.

"Oh my god, what's gotten into you?" Jisung commented, watching the way you two were completely locked in, ignoring everything else.

Felix’s knee bumped yours this time, just slightly, just enough to throw you off for a split second, and suddenly, he was in first.

You bit your lip, gripping your controller tighter.

He hummed, low and knowing, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

The final lap was chaos. Items flying, turns taken too sharply, both of you trying to psych each other out. But then-

Felix suddenly reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it to wipe at his face, revealing the sharp cut of his stomach, the defined lines leading down beneath the waistband of his sweats.

And your brain broke.

Your fingers fumbled. Your character swerved.

His smirk was immediate.

"You’re kidding me," you hissed, barely managing to get back on track.

"Something wrong?" he asked, voice too smooth, too smug.

You gritted your teeth, forcing yourself to focus. But it was too late.

Felix crossed the finish line first.

You, just barely, came in second.

A chorus of reactions erupted around you, but you weren’t even listening.

Felix turned his head toward you, slow and deliberate, eyes still dark with amusement.

You could not do this right now.

"I need water," you blurted out, practically throwing your controller onto the couch as you stood.

Felix didn’t stop you. He didn’t have to.

Because you felt his eyes on you the entire way to the kitchen.

You sucked in a deep, steadying breath, filling up a glass of water with tap water to give yourself something to do. The cool liquid soothed the burning ache in your throat, the tight knot in your stomach finally unclenching slightly.

But you didn't miss it. The way he followed you, making his way casually toward you, leaning against the kitchen counter.

He was too close. Too close, too fucking hot, his sleeves still pushed up his forearms, the muscles tense and prominent under the smooth tan skin.

The way he was looking at you, fuck.

"Mm-" you cleared your throat, willing your voice to stay steady. "That was a close game." You said, deciding to not mention the amount of tension that was just previously between you two.

"It was." His voice was so smooth, so steady, so goddamn collected when all you felt was falling apart.

He shifted his stance, and fuck, his shirt shifted a bit with him. Just enough to reveal a hint of the v-line of his lower abdomen. You forced your gaze back to the glass of water. "Are we uh… playing Uno next?"

His gaze raked over you slowly, like he was savoring you, taking in every detail, every movement. "Are you still trying to avoid me?"

You almost choked, snapping your gaze to his. He didn't look angry or hurt. No. There was something else in his eyes. A sort of playfulness, something that made you swallow hard. "N- no, of course not."

Felix took a step closer.

Heat flashed through your body, a million responses flickering through your mind. A part of you wanted to back down. To apologize for making him feel uncomfortable, for crossing the line. Another part of you wanted to grab him, to shove him up against the nearest surface and kiss him until his lips were swollen again, to not even care who heard, to show him how much you wanted him-

"Uno it is, then."

-

The night stretched on, the group dwindling as exhaustion set in. It was past 2 AM now, and the whining had reached its peak.

"Okay, I'm tapping out," Hyunjin groaned, dramatically flopping onto the couch before peeling himself up again. "I’m going to bed before I actually pass out here."

"You guys are weak," Jisung muttered, but even he sounded drowsy, rubbing at his eyes.

One by one, everyone started disappearing to their rooms, the energy in the room shifting from chaotic to something quieter, heavier.

And then, Felix caught your gaze.

It was quick, barely a flicker of a look, but you felt it everywhere. The way his lips barely curved at the corners, the way his head tilted ever so slightly toward the hallway.

Your stomach clenched.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to.

As the last of them retreated, the house fell silent. The kind of silence that made everything feel weightier, like the air itself had thickened.

You hesitated in your room for what felt like an eternity, your heart hammering in your chest.

With shaky fingers, you pushed open your door and stepped out, padding quietly down the hall in your pajamas.

When you reached his door, you hesitated, nerves tightening in your stomach. The hallway felt too quiet, the weight of your own anticipation pressing down on your chest. Your fingers hovered over the doorknob, your mind racing. Why did he call me here? What does he want?

But more than that, why did you want to find out so badly?

Taking a steadying breath, you gathered your courage and pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.

Felix was there, exactly where you'd imagined him, leaning back against his headboard, his legs stretched out comfortably, one hand resting lazily over his stomach while the other held his phone.

The second he saw you, he dropped it without a second thought, the soft thud against his blankets barely registering over the way his entire face shifted.

Slow. Almost shy. A smile spread across his lips, lighting up his features.

And goddamn it.

He looked so good. So effortlessly, unfairly good. His hair was slightly tousled, like he had been running his fingers through it absentmindedly. His hoodie was loose over his frame, draping in a way that made him look entirely too comfortable, like he belonged exactly here, like he had been waiting for you.

And then there was the way his fingers splayed across his stomach, his sweatshirt riding up just slightly, revealing a sliver of smooth skin.

You felt like melting straight into the floor.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a step closer before perching on the very edge of his bed, hands fisting into the hem of your pajama shirt to keep yourself from fidgeting.

"Why did you- why did you call me here?" Your voice came out softer than you intended, and you hated the way it betrayed you, revealing too much.

Felix exhaled a soft chuckle, shifting his weight as he turned more toward you. And then, like it was the easiest thing in the world, he reached out, the warmth of his palm pressing against your thigh.

Your heart stuttered.

A hot and unrelenting feeling sat inside of you, spreading from the point of contact and curling into your stomach.

"I just thought," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of your pajama pants, "since you... took care of me this morning, maybe I should repay you."

Something in your chest twisted.

The words themselves weren’t inherently bad. They weren’t cold. But the way he said them, too smooth, too casual, made something inside you crack.

Like this was nothing more than an obligation. Like the way you had touched him this morning, the way he had melted under your hands, had just been another favor to return.

Not because he wanted to.

Not because it meant anything to him.

You froze, the warmth in your stomach flipping into something heavier, something uncomfortable.

Felix must have sensed the shift immediately because his grip on your thigh loosened, the easy confidence on his face faltering as he tilted his head, brows pinching slightly in concern.

"Wait- hey, what’s wrong?" His voice softened, suddenly cautious.

You shook your head quickly, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes. You hated how fast the emotions swelled inside you, how stupid you felt for thinking, for hoping, that maybe he wanted you.

That maybe he liked you.

"Felix," you exhaled, your voice barely holding steady. "You don’t have to do things like that just to pay me back."

His entire expression crumbled, guilt flashing across his features. "I didn’t mean-"

"You don’t owe me anything," you said, voice cracking as you suddenly pushed yourself to stand. "This was a mistake."

"Wait-"

Your breath hitched as his fingers curled gently around your wrist, not tight enough to trap you, just enough to make you stop. Enough to make you feel the warmth of his skin, the unspoken plea in his touch.

"Wait," he said again, even softer this time, like he was afraid the word might break if he said it too loudly.

You stood frozen, staring at the door in front of you, at the blurred outlines of your own reflection in the dark window beyond it. You willed yourself to take another step, to keep moving, to leave.

"I really do... want this."

The words barely reached you, so quiet they almost melted into the stillness of the room. But you heard them. Felt them. And they shattered something inside you.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides, your throat tightening painfully as you let out a sharp, humorless breath.

"Don’t," you whispered.

Felix didn’t move, but you could feel the weight of his presence behind you, could hear his breath just as unsteady as yours.

"You really shouldn’t want this, Felix," you said, and this time, your voice broke. "Because this isn’t something best friends do."

Silence.

Then, before you could pull away, before you could do anything at all, his grip shifted, slow, careful, as he turned you just enough to slip his arms around you from behind.

Your entire body stiffened as the warmth of his chest pressed against your back, as his arms folded around you, holding you against him.

"I know," he murmured, voice thick with something you couldn’t name.

You should have pulled away.

Should have stepped out of his arms and walked out that door before this got even more tangled, even more painful.

But you didn’t.

Because even though you shouldn’t love the way he held you, shouldn’t love the way his warmth seeped into your skin, grounding you, calming you, you did.

Even though you shouldn’t love the way his breath tickled the back of your neck, the way he exhaled like he was relieved to be holding you, you did.

And suddenly, no matter how hard you fought it, no matter how much you tried to blink them back, the tears fell.

Your shoulders shook, a quiet sob breaking past your lips, and Felix tensed, his grip on you tightening just slightly.

"Shh," he comforted you, letting his hand rub comforting circles on you. "I’m sorry."

His voice wavered, and god, it only made you cry harder.

"It feels so wrong," he whispered, his arms tightening around you like he could hold you together, like he could keep you from unraveling. "But it's all I can think about."

You tried to stop it, but a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob broke from your mouth, and Felix froze.

"You don't have to say things like that," you sniffled, bringing your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment.

His grip shifted, just slightly, as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your neck, where his breath was previously fanning against. It made your breath hitch, your entire body shuddering at the feeling of his lips on you.

"You think I don't want to kiss you?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. "That I haven't imagined what it would be like to touch you in the ways you've touched me?" He leaned back just enough for his fingers to reach yours, lacing together with your hand as he guided your fingers to your cheek. He was holding you, kissing you, yet his hands were shaky against your own. "Do you feel this?"

"Felix." His name left your mouth on an exhale, half a warning, half a plea.

"Do you?" He insisted.

Your chest ached with the weight of his words, the sheer desperation laced in his voice breaking something inside you. And suddenly, you couldn’t hold back anymore. You couldn’t stop yourself from turning into him, from slipping your fingers free of his and bringing both hands to his face, tilting his head just enough before you crashed your lips against his.

The second your mouths met, it was like everything inside you ignited at once. The tension, the longing, the days of unspoken desire roared to life, consuming you both. His grip tightened at your waist, his grip firm as he pulled you flush against him. The heat of his body pressed into yours, and the sheer force of it sent you stumbling back onto the bed, your pulse hammering in your ears.

Felix followed without hesitation, his hands bracing on either side of you as he hovered over you, his body caging yours in the best way possible. His lips were urgent, hungry, moving against yours like he was memorizing the shape of your mouth, like he couldn’t get enough. You gasped as his tongue flicked out to taste you, the slow, teasing slide of it making you shudder beneath him.

A low, needy sound rumbled in his throat when you ran your hands up his clothed torso, your hands resting on his shoulders and pulling him even closer. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. Your hands slipped beneath the thick material, palms skimming over the lean muscles of his back, feeling the way his breath hitched at your touch.

Felix groaned into your mouth, the kiss breaking as he shifted to straddle you. You watched him for a beat, eyes taking him in.

He looked good enough to eat. His hoodie had bunched around his hips, the fabric barely clinging to him, his lower half exposed. Your gaze flicked down to the v-line of his abdomen before dropping to the visible tent in his boxers.

When you looked back up at his face, you found him already watching you, his cheeks flushed as his fingers gripped at the hem of his sweatshirt.

He didn't pull it off yet, his expression hesitant. Like he was afraid he might ruin something, that you might break beneath his touch. It was a stupid, irrational fear. You were already ruined, already broken. And all you wanted was for him to break you a little bit more.

"Please," you whispered, the last shred of your resolve fading.

The sound of your voice seemed to hit a part of his brain. His grip tightened on the hem before he finally lifted the garment over his head, his hair mussing just slightly, and god. He was even hotter shirtless than you imagined. He was all smooth lines and tan skin, toned yet soft.

All smooth, skin stretched over lean muscle, toned yet soft in a way that made your mouth go dry. Your hands moved on instinct, sliding up his torso, palms pressing into the warmth of his skin. He shivered under your touch, his stomach tensing as your fingers trailed along the ridges of his abdomen.

“You look so good,” you murmured, barely recognizing your own voice.

Felix exhaled a breathy laugh, but the sound was shaky, like he was nervous, like your words had done something to him. His hands found your wrists, guiding your palms higher, over his ribs, his chest, until your fingertips brushed over his collarbones. His heartbeat thrummed beneath your touch, quick and uneven, matching your own.

Your breath caught as Felix let your hands roam over his skin, his muscles twitching beneath your touch. But just as your fingers trailed back down, seeking the familiar heat of his stomach, tracing down his v-line, he suddenly caught your wrists, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Wait,” he whispered.

You blinked, your brows pulling together as you instinctively tried to tug your hands free. “Felix—”

His hold didn’t waver, but there was no force behind it, just hesitation. A soft flush crept up his neck, settling high on his cheeks, his lips parting like he was debating something, fighting with himself over whether or not to say it.

“I don’t… I don’t want to be the only one receiving anymore,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a breath. His fingers squeezed yours lightly, almost apologetic, almost embarrassed. “Not tonight.”

Something about the way he said it, so soft, so unguarded, made your heart stumble.

Your first instinct was to protest, because you loved watching him unravel under your touch, loved the way he shivered, the way his breath hitched, the way he melted when you traced your fingers over the sensitive planes of his body. You wanted more of it, you always did.

But before you could say anything, he glanced up at you through his lashes, his grip on your hands loosening, and whispered, “I want to touch you.”

Your stomach flipped.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. He must have mistaken your silence for reluctance, because he ducked his head slightly, his thumb brushing idly over your palm as he continued, quieter this time.

“If that’s okay,” he murmured, voice so gentle, so sweet, something about the tone of his voice made your heart ache.

You swallowed hard, your skin burning at the weight of his words.

Then, before you could find your voice, Felix shifted, sliding down. Your breath stilled as he settled onto his knees on the floor, looking up at you with his eyes that held something shy, something uncertain, but also something unmistakably wanting.

His fingers found your thighs, barely touching, just ghosting over the fabric of your pajama pants as he tested the waters. His hands were warm, his touch hesitant but deliberate, and when you didn’t pull away, he let his grip tighten just slightly, just enough to make your breath shudder out of you.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled you closer to the edge, his fingers flexing against your skin.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, could hear the unsteady rise and fall of his breathing as he stared up at you, waiting.

“You always take care of me,” he whispered, his voice almost pleading, his fingers squeezing ever so slightly at your thighs. “Let me take care of you.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs, your whole body thrumming with anticipation, with the sheer weight of his words.

And when he pressed his lips to the inside of your knee, just a soft, fleeting kiss, your resolve crumbled entirely.

You nodded, barely able to breathe, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin.

Felix hesitated for only a second, his fingers twitching slightly before they found your waist, warm and uncertain, like he was afraid to move too quickly. His touch was light, barely there, as his hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingertips grazing your ribs in a way that made you shiver. The anticipation, the slow, almost teasing pace, sent a wave of heat down your spine.

Your thighs tensed involuntarily, but you couldn’t close them, not with him kneeling between them, his presence impossible to ignore. The thought of what he might do, what you wanted him to do, burned through you, your breath catching as his hands moved higher.

His fingers traced the curves of your body like he was mapping them, committing every dip and rise to memory. And when he hesitantly skimmed over the swell of your breast, a sharp gasp escaped your lips before you could stop it.

Felix’s head snapped up. His breath hitched audibly, his cheeks flushed a deep, beautiful red. His gaze flickered between your face and where his palm now fully cupped you, his grip instinctively tightening before he gave the slightest squeeze. The reaction it pulled from you; your soft inhale, the way your head tipped back, made something shift in his expression.

You didn’t miss the way he squirmed slightly, his thighs clenching as though your reactions affected him as much as his touch affected you. But then his fingers left you, his warmth vanishing too soon, leaving your skin aching in its absence.

"You’re so beautiful," he whispered, almost like he was speaking to himself, his voice laced with something raw. His hands found the hem of your shirt, slowly pushing it up, revealing more of you to his hungry gaze. "So beautiful."

You wanted to argue, to hide, to cover yourself in embarrassment, but then his lips.

Soft. Gentle. Worshipping.

They pressed just below your navel, sending a tremor through you. His kisses were slow, unhurried, as though he wanted to savor every inch of you, his lips lingering, breathing you in. Every touch, every press of his mouth, was deliberate, and the way he moved, like he never wanted to stop, made your breath quicken, your fingers curling into the sheets.

Felix didn’t stop. He trailed lower, exhaling softly against your skin, his hands curling around your hips as he pressed his forehead there for just a second. As if grounding himself. As if overwhelmed by you.

Then his fingers dipped into the waistband of your pajama pants, testing. Seeking permission.

And when you gave him the smallest nod, he exhaled shakily, his grip tightening before he slowly, so torturously slowly, began to slide them down.

The seconds felt like hours. Like an eternity. You were exposed, vulnerable, and you could only watch as he pulled your pajama bottoms down your legs.

Then you were left in nothing but your underwear, and the reality of it all hit you at once.

Felix leaned back just slightly, his breath unsteady, his gaze trailing down your legs before lingering at the apex of your thighs. His eyes widened, his lips parting as if he’d forgotten how to breathe, and suddenly, the heat of his attention became too much.

You shifted instinctively, your thighs pressing together, a flush crawling up your skin. Embarrassment bloomed in your chest, the urge to cover yourself nearly overwhelming.

Felix must have sensed it because his gaze snapped up to yours, his expression softening. Without a word, he moved closer again, bracing one hand beside your hip as he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh, gentle, warm, like he was easing you into this, like he was reminding you that you were safe with him.

Your breath hitched, and his free hand found your thigh, fingertips barely skimming the surface as he traced slow, teasing patterns. His touch was featherlight, barely there, but the sensation sent a shiver through you, your muscles tensing beneath his hand.

"It's okay," he murmured against your skin, the vibration of his voice making you tremble.

His touch shifted, his palm resting over your knee as he gently coaxed your legs open. Your heart thrummed at the feeling of your legs spreading for him, your mind going hazy with arousal.

"So good," he praised, and the words made you shudder, your head spinning.

Slowly, carefully, he guided your legs over his shoulders, letting them settle there as his hands slid along the outside of your thighs. His eyes locked on yours before he leaned in.

A soft gasp escaped you, your pulse quickening as he pressed a slow, teasing kiss to your inner thigh, so close to where you needed him most.

One of your hands found its way to his hair, feeling a little sensitive from his breath tickling your skin. Felix exhaled a shaky sound, his hips shifting slightly against the mattress as he let his mouth linger.

You swallowed hard, your stomach fluttering as he slowly trailed lower, his lips brushing dangerously close to the crease where your thigh met your hip. Your grip tightened on his hair, pulling another muffled sound from him, something like a whimper.

It made your mind fog over with heat, your thighs clenching instinctively. But then his grip shifted, his hands sliding beneath your thighs, fingers curling around your legs as he pinned you open.

A shaky moan broke from your lips, your head falling back as your hand gripped at his hair even harder, a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. He hadn't even touched you yet, and the feeling of being held open, of being almost completely exposed for him, was overwhelming.

"Felix," you breathed, your hips squirming under his grip.

He hummed softly in acknowledgment, but it was more of a low, needy sound than an actual response. Then he pressed another kiss to your thigh, just slightly higher this time, before he lightly bit down on the soft skin.

The unexpected pressure made you gasp, your fingers clenching in his hair. He let out a muffled sound, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he released the skin from between his teeth. Then he soothed the sting with another soft kiss, his lips lingering as his breath fanned over your skin.

Your hips shifted again, a whimper rising in your throat as he continued teasing you. He was so close, so painfully close, but not close enough.

"Please," you breathed, your voice shaky and unsteady. "I need-"

Your words cut off abruptly as Felix closed the distance. Your muscles tensed, a gasp escaping your lips as his tongue flicked out, tracing over the wet fabric of your underwear. The sensation was light, barely there, but it made you shudder, your body suddenly feeling too hot, too sensitive.

He exhaled a soft sigh against you, the sound sending a jolt of heat down your spine, and then he was pressing kisses, teasing you with his mouth, his tongue, making you tremble.

A soft, needy sound escaped you, the feeling of his lips on you making your mind go hazy with arousal. You shifted, instinctively trying to close your legs, but his hands were firm, holding you open for him.

"Fuck," you gasped, the word trailing off into a whimper as he nuzzled closer, breathing you in.

His tongue traced the outline of you, slow, teasing, before he mouthed at you, dragging the fabric over your clit. Your back arched slightly, a shaky moan breaking past your lips. He did it again, harder this time, his mouth hot even through the thin barrier.

Felix groaned into you, the vibration of his voice making your hips jerk against his grip. And then suddenly, his fingers slipped into the waistband of your underwear. He didn't stop kissing you, didn't stop touching you as he dragged the fabric down your thighs, leaving you bare.

And then he pulled away just enough for him to take in the view. His pupils were blown wide, his cheeks flushed, his lips wet with you. The sight of it made your breath hitch, your heart thrumming against your ribs.

"You're so pretty," he whispered, and god, his voice sounded so fucked out, so breathless. "So pretty."

A desperate sound rose in your throat, your hips shifting at his words. "Fuck, don't say things like that."

He hummed softly in acknowledgment, sitting back on his heels. But he didn't respond, instead, he ran his fingers through his hair, pulling the strands back. You watched, captivated, as he gathered his hair into a messy bun, securing it with a hair tie around his wrist. Then, slowly, deliberately, he trailed his fingers along the inside of your thighs, his gaze following the movement before his eyes met yours again.

Your pulse quickened, your skin tingling beneath his touch.

Then his thumb brushed over you, slow, experimental. The sudden pressure made your breath catch, your muscles tensing as you tried to suppress a shiver.

His gaze flicked up to yours, gauging your reaction as he repeated the movement. You whimpered, your grip tightening on the sheets as he repeated the action again, and again. The feeling of his thumb moving against you sent sparks of pleasure through you, but it wasn't enough.

You gasped out, your hips rolling into his touch.

"I know, baby," he murmured affectionately, his voice barely above a whisper.

Baby. The word made your head spin. Hearing it fall from his lips caused you to clench around nothing, the emptiness almost painful.

His eyes widened slightly at your reaction, looking up at you through his lashes with something akin to amusement. Then his hand left you, leaving you cold, leaving you empty. You wanted to protest, wanted to beg him to touch you again, but before you could, he pressed his lips to the inside of your thigh, soft, tender.

You stilled, your breath hitching as he trailed slow, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, making you more impatient.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he hesitated. You could feel his warm breath fanning over you, sending a wave of heat down your spine.

Then he leaned in, and you gasped.

A choked sound escaped your lips, your back arching as he pressed his tongue against you. You felt him smirk, just slightly, before he did it again, licking a slow, firm stripe up your slit.

The feeling of his mouth on you was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, hot and wet and overwhelming. A shudder ran through you, your hips twitching against his grip as he repeated the action, his tongue tracing over your folds.

The sensation made your legs tremble, your head falling back as you moaned out, your voice sounding unfamiliar to your ears. Felix groaned in response, his hands tightening on your thighs as he pulled you closer, burying his face between your legs.

Your skin was tingling, your body burning with arousal. But then he flicked his tongue over your clit, slow and teasing. It was so light, so gentle, yet it made you whimper, heat pooling in your lower stomach.

"F-Felix," you gasped out, your fingers curling into the sheets.

He hummed softly in acknowledgment, the sound vibrating against you. Then he did it again, firmer this time, his tongue circling your clit before he flicked it once more.

Your breath hitched, your thighs clenching around his head.

He seemed to notice your reaction because he repeated the motion, adding a little more pressure. Your hips twitched involuntarily, your voice breaking off into a moan.

"Shit," you breathed, barely able to string words together. "Feels so good."

The praise made him whimper, his grip tightening on your thighs as he continued licking at you. Your back arched slightly, the sensation making your muscles tense, your skin buzzing. He continued teasing your clit, each flick of his tongue sending sparks of pleasure through you.

But you needed more. You wanted more.

Suddenly, you felt his fingers sliding up your thigh, tentative. When his thumb brushed against you again, you moaned, your hips rolling against his touch.

"Yes," you gasped out, barely able to breathe. "Please."

Felix pulled away just enough for him to speak, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin, making you shiver. "You want my fingers?"

You nodded frantically, unable to form words, unable to do anything but chase the feeling. He hummed softly, almost to himself, as though he were savoring your reactions.

Then his hand shifted, his thumb brushing against your entrance. The sensation made you gasp, your hips bucking forward, trying to get him inside. But he only pressed another soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, murmuring low against your skin.

"Relax, baby," he murmured, the term of endearment sending a jolt of heat straight to your core.

Then his index finger slowly eased inside, the sudden sensation making you gasp. His grip tightened on your thigh, his touch reassuring, grounding, as he added his middle finger, probing deeper.

Your legs trembled, your head falling back as a soft whimper broke past your lips.

His mouth was still on you, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out, slow and torturous. The feeling of his mouth on you, his finger filling you, was overwhelming.

You were so wound up, so desperate, that the sudden rush of pleasure was nearly too much.

"Fuck, Felix," you moaned, your hands fisting into the sheets.

The sound of his name made him whimper against you, his tongue flicking out, teasing. He curled his fingers inside you, searching, seeking. Then he found what he was looking for, a spot that made your hips jerk against his touch, a broken moan rising from your throat.

He groaned into you, his tongue moving faster against your clit, his fingers hitting that same spot over and over again.

Heat coiled in your stomach, your muscles tensing as he kept up his pace. Your skin was tingling, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps as he continued, his fingers pumping in and out.

You felt yourself getting closer, the sensation of his mouth and his fingers pushing you to the edge.

"Wait, I'm close," you breathed, your voice breaking off into a whimper. "Lixie, please-"

Your words trailed off into a moan as he sped up, curling his fingers with each thrust. The feeling of him touching you, fucking you, was overwhelming. Your vision blurred, your hips rolling against his touch as you chased the feeling.

A sharp cry escaped you, your back arching, your legs tensing around his head. Your muscles clenched around his fingers, waves of pleasure shooting through you as he kept moving his hand. You trembled, your body aching, your thighs shaking as he fucked you through your orgasm.

When your breathing finally started to slow, he gently pulled his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty, a whine building in your throat. But then he pressed one last kiss to your thigh, tender and sweet.

Felix let out a slow, steady breath, his hands still smoothing over your legs in absentminded strokes as he leaned back. His lips were swollen, his cheeks stained with warmth, and his hair, god, his hair; was a complete mess, strands of it falling into his eyes. He looked so pretty like this, so utterly wrecked and yet still so gentle, so sweet.

You wanted to tell him. Wanted to whisper how beautiful he was, how good he made you feel, how all of you felt like it belonged to him in this moment. But the words didn’t come. Instead, you reached forward, fingers slipping into his hair, pushing the stray strands back.

He closed his eyes at the touch, exhaling softly, and before you could stop yourself, you tugged him toward you. He let himself be pulled, crawling onto the bed, settling beside you as you wrapped yourself around him, pressing into his warmth.

There was a quiet hum of contentment as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, his arms winding around your waist. He held you like he never wanted to let go, his fingertips tracing light patterns along your back.

And for a moment, you let yourself forget everything else. The worries, the overthinking, none of it mattered. Not right now.

All that mattered was this. The warmth of him. The way your body still trembled from what he’d done. The knowledge that he had wanted to. That he had chosen to.

But then, as your breathing steadied, your mind caught onto something else, something that made your stomach twist.

You could feel him.

Hard and aching against your thigh, his body trembling ever so slightly as he held you. He hadn’t asked for anything in return. Hadn’t even hinted at it. He had done this just for you, just because he wanted to.

But now, you wanted to do something for him too.

Your face burned at the thought, nerves creeping in as you swallowed hard.

You hesitated before whispering, “I can, um…” You swallowed again, heat spreading up your neck as you forced the words out. “I can help you too. With my mouth.”

Felix stiffened instantly. His arms tightened around you for a split second before he pulled back slightly, eyes wide, face already turning red.

“I-” He shook his head, his voice breathless, uneven. “No. I… I only wanted to take care of you.”

You frowned. “But-”

“I don’t think I can handle that right now,” he admitted, voice quieter, his fingers gripping onto you as if the thought alone had overwhelmed him.

You bit your lip, staring at him. He looked so nervous, so wrecked already, and you knew he meant it. But at the same time, you could feel him, could feel how much he needed something, anything.

So you thought for a moment. Then, hesitantly, you spoke again.

“What about…” You swallowed, your heart pounding in your ears. “What about my thighs?”

Felix nearly choked on his own breath. His eyes snapped to yours, his face going impossibly red, and he let out something between a cough and a gasp, his grip on you tightening as he tried to process your words.

And honestly? That reaction only made you want to do it more.

You shifted, laying back on your elbows and letting your legs fall open slightly. He exhaled shakily, watching the way you still dripped from earlier, and suddenly, he seemed to forget how to breathe.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your skin tingling under his gaze.

He didn't move, didn't speak, just stared. And fuck, he looked like he was in absolute awe of you, like you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. "Lix?"

He blinked, his eyes refocusing. "Um, are you sure?"

You nodded, swallowing hard. "Please."

He let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening on your ankles. Then, slowly, deliberately, he pulled them together, resting your calves on his shoulder as he leaned forward.

You watched as he hesitated before fumbling with the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down just enough for his cock to spring free. He was already dripping, flushed pink, hard and straining, and the sight of him like this, so needy, made your stomach flutter.

Felix's hands were shaking slightly as he reached out, gently guiding himself between your thighs. The sudden feeling of him against you made you gasp, the sound making him whimper, his cock twitching.

"Fuck," he breathed, his voice unsteady.

His hands wrapped around your ankles once more, holding them in place as he rocked his hips forward experimentally. A shaky moan broke past his lips as he dragged his cock through your folds, smearing precum across your skin.

Your eyes widened when you realized how intimate this looked and felt, your mind going hazy with arousal. You were still sensitive from before, still aching from his mouth, and the feeling of him sliding through your thighs made your head spin.

He exhaled a shaky sigh, his grip tightening on your ankles as he continued rocking his hips. The friction was delicious, hot and wet and overwhelming. You couldn't help but whimper, your skin tingling, your stomach twisting with heat.

He leaned forward, his body hovering over yours as he pressed your ankles closer together, the pressure making you gasp.

You threw your head back, your eyes fluttering shut as he fucked into you, slow and steady. You could feel every inch of him sliding between your thighs, his cock hot and heavy against your skin.

The feeling of him surrounding you like this, your legs pressed together, your thighs slick with his precum and your own wetness, was too much. A soft whimper broke past your lips as you rolled your hips, desperate for some kind of friction.

But he suddenly paused when he felt your folds rub up against him, making a sound that was way too erotic for your own good. His head fell forward, his cock twitching against your thighs.

"Shit," he moaned, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't do that."

You swallowed hard, your body tensing at the sound of his voice, so low and breathless. "Sorry," you mumbled, unable to form any other words.

Felix let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into your ankles as he pushed them closer together, holding your legs in place as he tried to take a moment to compose himself. But then you shifted slightly beneath him, and a choked sound broke past his lips, his hips jerking forward instinctively.

"Fuck, baby," he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as his cock slid against your folds once more, making you whimper. "You're so wet."

The words sent a wave of heat through you, your skin tingling, your muscles clenching. He was right, you were dripping, your arousal mixing with his precum, slick and hot and wet.

And then, before you could respond, he started moving again, his thrusts faster, harder this time. Each stroke dragged along your folds, his cock pressing a delicious pressure against your clit. You couldn't help but gasp, your hips rolling into the feeling, trying to get closer.

"Lixie," you breathed, your voice shaking.

Your hands fisted in the sheets as he continued fucking into you, his grip tightening on your ankles as he held them in place. You could feel yourself getting closer with each thrust, your skin tingling, your muscles tensing as you chased the feeling.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he gasped out, his voice breaking off into a moan. "So good."

The praise made you shudder, and your hips rolled into him, your breath catching in your throat.

"Please," you whimpered, the word trailing off into a gasp as he pressed your ankles closer together, holding them tighter.

Your back arched off the mattress, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his cock drag against you, hard and hot and heavy. It was so good, too good. You couldn't think, couldn't breathe. All you could do was moan, your voice breaking off into a desperate sound as he kept thrusting between your thighs.

He groaned into you, his body trembling as he fucked you, his movements starting to grow erratic, sloppy. You could feel yourself getting closer, your skin buzzing, your muscles tensing as you tried to hold on.

"Come on, Y/N," he moaned, his voice breathless. "Give it to me."

The words made you gasp, your back arching off the mattress as you felt yourself slipping over the edge. Your legs tensed around him, your toes curling as pleasure shot through you, making you shiver.

Felix whimpered at the sensation, his hips stuttering as he kept thrusting into you. Your eyes rolled back, your head falling to the side as you rode out your high.

He followed soon after, his fingers digging into your ankles as he came, hot and wet and sticky. You could feel him spilling all over the uncovered skin of your lower stomach as he let out a string of beautiful moans, his voice breaking off into a gasp.

He collapsed on top of you, burying his face into your neck as he tried to catch his breath, his body trembling.

For a moment, you just laid there, unable to move, unable to speak, your chest heaving. And then slowly, deliberately, you reached up, running your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly. He whimpered in response, his face still hidden in your neck, his arms winding around you, holding you close.

"Lix," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Are you okay?"

He exhaled a slow, steady breath before nodding, his grip on you tightening slightly. You smiled at the reaction, your fingers carding through his hair.

Then he mumbled something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like thank you.

"You're welcome," you murmured, your voice soft. "Are you okay? Was that too much?"

He shook his head, pulling away just enough to look at you. His eyes were dark, hooded, his cheeks flushed.

"I'm fine," he breathed, his voice still slightly shaky. "That was... so much."

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze falling to your lap. "I know. Messy too. We should probably-"

Felix cut you off by pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, silencing you instantly. The gesture made your heart flutter, warmth spreading through you.

"Let me clean you," he mumbled, his voice quiet, almost shy.

You felt yourself blush at his words, your stomach twisting. But before you could respond, he stood up, disappearing into your bathroom.

You couldn't help but stare at his back, watching as his muscles flexed with each movement, his skin glowing in the moonlight. He was so pretty, so soft, so... everything.

The sight of him like this made your chest ache, your heart hammering against your ribs as you watched him walk away.

And then, as soon as he was out of sight, you remembered the situation. You remembered that you were almost completely naked, that your thighs and stomach were coated in his cum, that you were laying in his bed after he'd fucked you with his tongue.

Oh my god.

Your face burned at the thought, your pulse quickening. You'd never felt like this before, never experienced anything like it. I mean, yeah, you've had sex before, but not sex like this. Not sex that made your entire body tingle. Not sex that felt so intimate even when it wasn't supposed to be.

You swallowed hard as you heard him return, your gaze turning to the ceiling. He paused, his eyes scanning over your body, taking in the sight of you spread out across his bed. He hesitated, his tongue darting out to wet his lips, before he stepped closer, a wet cloth in his hand.

He reached out, his movements slow and gentle as he wiped you down. Your stomach twisted, your breath catching in your throat as he cleaned you up, careful not to leave anything behind.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn't say anything in response, only nodded before returning to the bathroom. When he returned, he crawled back into the bed, pulling the covers over you both.

"Wait- you want me to sleep here?" You asked, surprise evident in your voice.

He hummed in agreement, reaching over to turn off the light. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice low. "We've slept together before, what's the problem?"

You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. He should really watch his words, because now all you were thinking about the fact that you'd 100% let your best friend hit if he asked. But he was talking about how you both have slept together, as in, literally, sharing a bed.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to calm down. "I don't know," you finally answered, your voice quiet. "I just... wasn't expecting this."

He shrugged. "I don't mind. It's easier than you going back to your room, isn't it?"

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, pulling the blankets tighter around yourself.

Felix smiled softly at the gesture, shifting closer to you, resting his head on your chest. You blinked, taken aback by the sudden contact, but then relaxed, letting your fingers slide into his hair, taking out the bun he had put in prior.

Felix’s breathing evened out against your chest, warm and steady, his fingers twitching slightly where they rested on your waist. You could feel the weight of him, the way his body molded so easily against yours, like he belonged there. His hair was soft beneath your fingers as you ran them gently through the strands, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment.

You exhaled softly, staring up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow. You would tell him tomorrow.

The thought settled into your bones, a mix of nerves and certainty twisting in your stomach. No more dancing around it, no more overthinking. You were going to tell Felix how you felt.

With that thought, your eyes grew heavier, and soon enough, sleep pulled you under.

-

The next morning, the soft glow of early sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting gentle rays across Felix’s face. You blinked blearily, still groggy with sleep, only to find him nestled against you, his lips slightly parted, his hair a tousled mess against the pillow.

He looked so soft like this. So precious.

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned down, pressing a feather-light kiss to his temple. He stirred slightly, his fingers curling against the fabric of your shirt, but he didn’t wake.

A warm feeling bloomed in your chest, but then-

Your eyes caught the time on the clock.

Panic jolted through you.

You quickly and carefully slipped out of bed, pulling your pants back on as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. Felix let out a soft, sleepy sigh behind you, but you forced yourself to ignore the urge to crawl back under the covers with him.

Instead, you quietly crept out of his room, shutting the door softly behind you.

As soon as you turned around, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

Jeongin was standing right there, looking like he hadn’t slept a single minute. His eyes were bloodshot, dark circles under them so prominent that you wondered if he had even blinked since last night.

“…What the hell?” you muttered, still groggy.

Jeongin stared at you, dead serious.

“I swear to god, I heard a ghost last night.”

You blinked. “…What?”

He ran a hand down his face, shuddering. “I couldn’t sleep. I was lying in bed, trying, right? But then I heard this… this noise.” His eyes darkened as he dropped his voice to a whisper. “Like a ghost moaning in pain.”

Your stomach dropped.

Oh. My god.

You suddenly wished you had stayed in Felix’s room.

Jeongin continued, oblivious to the way your face was quickly heating up. “It was awful. Like, I don’t know how to describe it, but it was this long, drawn-out, breathy sound, and I swear it came from somewhere in the dorm. I kept thinking, ‘what if it’s a spirit trying to communicate?’”

You cleared your throat, trying to keep your expression neutral. “Aha. That’s, um. That’s wild.”

Jeongin groaned, rubbing his temples. “I had to turn the lights on, man. I couldn’t deal with the dark anymore.”

You swallowed hard, nodding way too fast. “Yeah. Yeah, I get that.”

Jeongin squinted at you, suspicion written all over his face. “Wait… where were you last night?”

Your stomach flipped.

“Nowhere!” you blurted, way too quickly. “I was just- um…”

Jeongin’s eyes narrowed further, his gaze dragging over your disheveled state, your rumpled clothes, your messy hair, the clear signs that you had definitely just rolled out of someone’s bed.

Before you could scramble for a better excuse, the door behind you creaked open.

Felix stumbled out, looking just as exhausted as Jeongin, his hair a fluffy, unkempt mess. His pajama shirt was slightly askew, his eyes puffy with sleep as he rubbed at them sluggishly. He barely registered the two of you before stopping dead in his tracks.

His gaze landed on you first, then darted to Jeongin, then back to you.

And then-

His entire face turned bright red.

Oh. Oh, he just realized what this looked like.

You, standing outside his room, fresh out of bed.

Him, still in pajamas, barely awake.

At eleven in the morning.

Jeongin sighed suddenly, covering his face with his hands.

“Thank god,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “You guys heard the ghost too.”

You nearly choked.

Felix’s wide eyes flickered to you in utter confusion. You could only stare back, mirroring the same 'what the hell is he talking about?' expression.

Jeongin peeked between his fingers. “Wasn’t it awful? Like, so awful you couldn’t sleep alone?”

Your soul left your body.

You cleared your throat, forcing a stiff nod. “Yeah. So awful.”

Felix nodded so fast you were afraid he might hurt himself. “Terrible,” he added weakly.

Jeongin let out a deep sigh of relief. “Finally, someone who understands.” He shook his head. “I told Channie-hyung, but he just laughed at me. Like, what kind of reaction is that?”

Felix swallowed hard, visibly trying to keep it together. “I- I’ll make breakfast,” he blurted out suddenly. “For everyone. Just… give me a minute.”

And then, before anyone could say another word, he spun on his heel and fled back into his room, shutting the door a little too quickly behind him.

You exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face, realizing that you were never going to be able to walk around your apartment in peace again.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

WARNINGS: smut (super obv), p in v (YAY PROTECTED!), fingering (f rec.), handjob, he turns into a soft boy, cute + sexy combined

a/n: hiii guys im back... and employed so im so sorry about the late posting, but i love writing as a hobby so honestly i want to try doing it more often! so maybe... if u want something like another part or another fic pls lmk!

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur.

You spent it avoiding eye contact with anyone and trying to convince Jeongin that you did, in fact, hear ghosts last night. As soon as he finally let it go, you slipped away, grabbing a change of clothes from your room and locking yourself in the bathroom, deciding it was time for a shower.

You scrubbed at your skin until you were sure all traces of last night were gone, then stood under the hot stream of water for a long moment, letting the steam envelop you.

As much as you hated to admit it, you felt nervous. You had no idea how Felix would react to what you were going to tell him, no idea how he would respond to your confession. Sure, he seemed like he might return your feelings, but you couldn’t be sure, not completely, and the thought of it made your chest ache.

After a few more minutes, you finally dragged yourself out of the shower, toweling off quickly before slipping into your clothes. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, then opened the door, stepping into the living room.

The living room was already alive with movement when you stepped out, the faint scent of breakfast still lingering in the air.

Chan was crouched near the door, tugging on his sneakers with the sort of distracted determination that made it clear he was already running through a dozen responsibilities in his head. Across from him, Han and Minho were slouched on the couch, Han fiddling with his phone while Minho idly twirled a set of car keys around his finger, the jingle sharp in the otherwise quiet space.

The moment Han looked up and saw you, his mouth tugged into a sly grin.

“Whoa,” he said dramatically, eyes sweeping over you. “You look like a ghost.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “...Thanks?”

But Han wasn’t done. He leaned forward conspiratorially, lowering his voice just enough for the words to sting. “Apparently, you sound like one too.”

Your stomach dropped, heat rushing to your cheeks before you could stop it.

“Han,” Chan scolded instantly, reaching over to smack his shoulder, not hard, but enough to make the younger wince and pout. “Not funny.”

Minho, though, looked like he was seconds away from laughing, his lips twitching as he swung the keys lazily in the air. “He’s got a point though,” he murmured under his breath, just loud enough for you to catch.

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Can we not?”

Before your embarrassment could fully consume you, Chan’s voice softened, more grounding. “Hey,” he said, straightening his jacket. “Don’t worry, alright? Before you start hiding away in your room, Everyone else is already out in the studio. You’ve got a little space.”

The relief that hit you was immediate, though it did little to ease the rapid beating of your heart. At least you wouldn’t have to stumble into him again. Not yet.

And then, right on cue, the front door swung open with a rush of cool air.

“Yo!” Changbin’s voice carried through the room, bright and casual. He stepped inside, tossing his jacket halfway onto the coat rack before grinning at everyone. “There’s some event going on downtown. Free drinks. I was thinking... we should hit it after work.”

Your jaw dropped. “What? No, absolutely not.”

The words left you instantly, fueled by the sheer horror of the idea. The last thing you needed was to sit through a night of sly comments, suspicious glances, or, god forbid, someone bringing up last night in public.

But before you could dig your heels in, Han leaned back against the couch, smirk pulling at his lips. “If you come with us...” His tone dripped with mischief. “...we promise we won’t say a word about the ghost.”

Minho twirled the keys once more, catching them easily in his palm. “Deal of the century.”

Your eyes widened. “That’s blackmail.”

“Motivation,” Han corrected.

“Same thing,” you muttered.

But all three of them, Chan included, were looking at you now with a mix of amusement and expectation, like the decision was already made and you were the last one to catch up.

And as much as you wanted to protest, to disappear into your room and lock the door until the earth swallowed you whole... you knew exactly what would happen if you refused.

The ghost jokes would never end.

You sighed.

"...Fine," you muttered, defeated. "I'll go."

Han's expression shifted, his smirk turning into a bright, beaming smile as he clapped his hands together. "Awesome!" he exclaimed, hopping off the couch to grab his jacket from the coat rack. "This is gonna be great."

Chan smiled warmly, nodding. "Glad to hear it," he murmured. "We can figure out the details later. Right now, we really have to get to work."

He straightened, smoothing down his jacket before heading for the door.

You watched as Han and Minho followed suit, each of them shooting you one last grin before trailing after their leader.

And then, all too soon, they were gone, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving you alone in the living room.

You stared at the door for a long moment, trying to keep yourself from screaming.

What the hell did you just get yourself into?

-

The rest of the day passed in a blur.

You spent the morning on the couch, watching whatever was on the TV without really paying attention to it, trying to distract yourself from the nerves twisting in your stomach. You hadn't seen Felix since this morning, and a part of you wondered if he had disappeared into the studio the second he got dressed.

As soon as you thought that, your phone buzzed.

You checked the notifications, hoping it was Felix. Instead, you saw it was just Chan asking if you were still coming with them tonight. You replied with a simple 'yeah', then returned to scrolling through social media.

A few minutes later, another notification popped up, this time from Hyunjin. He asked if you were going out with them tonight. You answered with a yes, then went back to scrolling.

The next notification came from Jeongin, who was asking you if you were coming too. You told him that you were, then returned to scrolling.

The fourth notification came from Changbin, who was asking if you were really coming with them. You answered with a yes, then went back to scrolling.

Then you put your phone on DND, maybe taking it as a sign that you need to get ready.

-

When you arrived at the bar, the group was already waiting outside, dressed in their nicest casual clothes, all of them clearly buzzed.

As soon as you stepped out of the taxi, Hyunjin let out a loud cheer, throwing an arm around your shoulder as he dragged you towards the entrance.

"You made it!" he said, voice slightly slurred. "I was worried you weren't gonna come."

The bass hit you before you even stepped fully inside, the whole bar vibrating with the pulse of music and laughter. The air was warm, laced with perfume, alcohol, and that electric edge of bodies pressed too close together.

Hyunjin didn’t waste a second. With his arm still slung around your shoulder, he half-dragged, half-guided you through the crowd until you landed in the middle of the dance floor.

“You’re here,” he grinned, spinning you clumsily once before tugging you back toward him. His movements were loose, his hair sticking to his forehead, eyes bright in that way only tipsy Hyunjin could manage. “Finally. I was starting to think you hated me.”

You laughed despite yourself, shaking your head. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m fun,” he corrected with a dramatic pout, then broke into a grin, tugging you closer and swaying to the beat. His hands stayed respectful, light on your arms and shoulders, his smile wide and unguarded. “Dance with me, c’mon.”

And so you did.

It wasn’t serious, it couldn’t be with Hyunjin’s chaotic energy. He twirled you around with too much flair, nearly knocking into a passing server, then doubled over laughing when you had to yank him back upright. His ridiculousness was contagious, and soon you were laughing too, the weight in your chest easing for the first time all day.

For a moment, it felt good. Free. Like maybe the knot of nerves sitting in your stomach since last night could unravel just a little.

But then a strange feeling.

You didn’t need to look to know it. The prickling at the back of your neck, the way your body seemed to sense it before your mind even caught up.

You looked anyway, and there he was.

Felix.

Sitting at a booth across the room with Changbin and Jeongin, a drink in front of him, untouched. His posture was relaxed, too relaxed, but his eyes, his eyes were locked on you, unwavering.

You swallowed hard, your laughter faltering.

Because he wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t laughing along at Hyunjin’s antics or joining in the cheers. He was watching. Just watching. And though the dim bar lights cast shadows across his face, you could still see it, the flicker of something sharp, something burning in his gaze.

Jealousy.

It sliced through the haze of warmth Hyunjin’s presence had wrapped you in, settling in your chest like ice.

Hyunjin tugged at your wrist again, spinning you into another playful sway, his laugh ringing above the music. You tried to focus on him, on the friendly chaos, on the way his drunken affection was harmless. But every time you turned, every time you caught sight of that booth, you felt those daggers piercing through you.

Felix’s stare.

You felt it, like static under your skin. A chill rolled down your spine, completely at odds with the humid press of the bar. Felix. The softest, gentlest person you had ever known. The one who smiled at the simplest things, who went quiet just to listen to your rambling stories, who carried warmth with him like a second skin.

But right now, right now he was looking at you like you were tethering on a line you really didn’t want to tether on. Like one wrong step and you’d snap it completely. His gaze pinned you there, sharp enough to slice through Hyunjin’s laughter, sharp enough to make your pulse skip.

You tore your eyes away, forcing air into your lungs, and tried to drown it out in the music. Hyunjin was still twirling you around like you were partners in some drunken ballroom show, his giggles bubbling up every time he nearly tripped over his own feet.

Then, mercifully, Han stumbled into the circle. Literally. He nearly face-planted, catching himself on Hyunjin’s arm before breaking into a grin so wide it almost split his face.

“Party without me?” he slurred, then immediately started hopping in place, dragging both you and Hyunjin into a ridiculous little circle dance. His hair was sticking up, his shirt half untucked, but his laugh was so loud and unbothered it made people nearby join in with claps and cheers.

Hyunjin was hysterical now, clutching his stomach as he tried to match Han’s energy, the two of them bouncing and spinning like children let loose on a playground. You couldn’t help but smile, the ridiculousness tugging at your lips, the distraction pulling you just far enough from that ice lodged in your chest.

Still, when you risked a glance toward the booth, Felix hadn’t moved. His drink sat untouched. His gaze hadn’t faltered.

And your heart twisted.

Maybe you shouldn't have come. Maybe you should have stayed home, kept yourself busy, done anything else to avoid this. You thought you were ready to confess, but now, now the nerves were starting to twist in your stomach again, you didn’t know what to do.

So, instead of thinking too much about it, you grabbed Hyunjin by the hand and spun him closer, laughing as he stumbled, only to pull you right along with him.

The night passed in a blur. You danced until your legs hurt, surprised at how much fun you were able to have without any drinks. At some point, Chan pulled you aside, his voice quiet but sincere as he asked if you were doing okay, if you were having fun. You answered honestly, because even though the knot in your chest hadn’t loosened, even though Felix had been staring daggers at you all night, you still enjoyed yourself.

Maybe that was part of it. You weren't alone, not really. Your friends were all here, all surrounding you, making sure you were having a good time. Even Minho, who rarely liked hanging out in public settings like this, had a small smile on his face as he dragged Han away from the dance floor, both of them stumbling toward the bar.

And through it all, Felix was still occassionally staring.

He tried to look normal, but you knew him well enough by now. You could read the tension in his jaw, the tightness in his shoulders, the way he kept shifting in his seat. He was on edge, and it was only growing more and more clear as the night wore on.

Hyunjin leaned down at one point, nearly tripping over his own feet, his voice warm and teasing in your ear. “See? You’re glad I dragged you here. Admit it.”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing as he stumbled right into Han, who yelped dramatically before collapsing against Minho for support. It was chaos, it was loud, it was ridiculous, exactly what you needed.

But even as you laughed, your chest tightened. Because you felt it again. That pull.

That weight.

Your gaze flicked instinctively toward the booth.

Empty.

Your stomach dropped, panic curling fast in your chest before you could stop it. For a moment, it felt like the air around you thinned, like you’d lost something without even realizing it.

You scanned the bar, the dance floor, anywhere he could’ve slipped off to,until your eyes caught on him.

Felix was out there now, in the mess of flashing lights and bodies, being tugged onto the dance floor by someone you didn’t recognize. He looked hesitant, stiff, but he let himself be pulled in anyway, an ironic twist that made your heart clench. Because now you understood. The feeling gnawing at you was the same one he had been drowning in all night. That ache of watching from the outside, of knowing you couldn’t reach the one person you wanted to.

And it hurt.

So before you could overthink it, before the nerves could talk you out of it, you excused yourself from Hyunjin’s orbit with a quick laugh, muttering something about needing a break. You weaved through the crowd, brushing past shoulders and spilled drinks, eyes locked on Felix like he might disappear again if you looked away.

He noticed you before you even reached him. His gaze flicked up, surprised, but it softened in a way that nearly stopped you in your tracks. For all his staring earlier, for all that tension you’d read so easily, the moment your eyes met now, he looked almost… relieved.

The music thudded around you, people bumping past, but none of it mattered.

You didn’t stop walking until you were right in front of him.

The girl tugging on his arm blinked at you, confusion flashing across her face as you stepped in. You gave her a polite but firm smile, shaking your head.

“Sorry,” you said, voice raised just enough to be heard over the bass. “He already has a dance partner.”

Before she could argue, you slipped your fingers into his and tugged him gently but insistently away. Felix followed without hesitation, his hand warm in yours, his gaze glued to you even as the crowd swallowed the girl back up.

You didn’t let go until you’d led him to the back of the bar, where the lights dimmed and the music dulled to something more bearable, softened by the press of bodies. It wasn’t private, not really, but it was enough.

Felix stood there, breathing unevenly, eyes searching your face. “You just... pulled me away from her,” he said finally, a little dazed, a little incredulous.

You folded your arms, trying to keep steady. “Yeah. Because you don’t need to be out there with her.”

He let out a short, almost bitter laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “So it’s fine when you’re out there dancing with Hyunjin, laughing with everyone else, but when I do it, when I even try, suddenly it’s not okay?” His tone wasn’t harsh, but there was a sharpness beneath it, something raw that slipped through without him realizing.

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “It’s not the same, Felix. I was having fun with my friends. People I trust. But you-” you gestured vaguely toward the crowd, the direction of the girl-“you were about to get dragged off by some stranger who was clearly into you.”

His brows furrowed, the protest on his lips faltering. “And why does that matter to you?”

The question landed heavy between you, and he didn’t even seem to realize how loaded it was until it was already out there, hanging in the dim, thudding air. His eyes widened just slightly, waiting, searching your face for an answer.

Felix’s question sat between you like a live wire, sparking with every beat of the music bleeding in from the dance floor.

You folded your arms tighter, biting down on the inside of your cheek. “Because-” you started, but then shook your head. “Never mind. Forget it.”

“No.” His voice was firm, firmer than you expected. He stepped closer, eyes locked onto yours. “Don’t do that. Don’t just shut me out. Why does it matter?”

Your throat tightened. “It just does, okay? I don’t want to stand there and watch you-”

“Watch me what?” His words sharpened, but his eyes... his eyes looked almost desperate. “Watch me have fun? Watch me with someone else? You think I didn’t notice? You think I didn’t feel the same way watching you with Hyunjin all night?”

Your chest stuttered at that, heat rushing up the back of your neck. “That’s different.”

“It’s not,” he shot back, and for once, his voice cracked, betraying him. “You don’t get to tell me it’s different when it’s not.”

You could feel your defenses crumbling, panic clawing at your chest as your tongue moved before your brain could stop it. “Because I don’t care about them the way I care about you!”

The words ripped out of you, raw and loud enough that you startled yourself.

Felix’s eyes widened, all the fight draining from his face at once. He froze, lips parted, and the silence that followed was deafening. He looked like he was about to say something- something that might change everything, but the weight of it, the vulnerability of what you’d just admitted, slammed into you too fast, too heavy.

You shook your head, backing up before he could speak. “I- I can’t-”

And then you turned, slipping past a group near the bar’s back wall, weaving through the bodies until you burst out into the night air. The door swung shut behind you, muffling the music, leaving only the echo of your words in your ears.

Your chest heaved, your hands trembling, and you couldn’t tell if you wanted him to follow you... or if you were terrified that he actually would.

The cool night air hit you like a slap, sharp against the heat of your flushed cheeks. You stumbled down the sidewalk, heart hammering, replaying your words over and over. You don’t care about them the way you care about him.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag as you tried to steady your breathing, willing yourself to be rational. But the truth was, rational didn’t exist tonight. All you could feel was the ache in your chest, the sting of your own confession, and the terrifying weight of what Felix must be thinking.

A shadow fell across your path, sudden and heavy. You froze, eyes darting up, and there he was. Felix.

“Y/N- wait.” His voice was low, rough, controlled, but there was an urgency there that made your stomach twist.

You shook your head quickly, trying to push past him, but he caught your wrist gently. “Hey, look at me.”

You hesitated, the cool night air whipping strands of hair across your face. He didn’t let go, didn’t push or pull. He just waited, giving you the space to breathe, to decide whether you’d face him or run again.

“I... I shouldn’t have said anything,” you whispered, voice trembling, almost inaudible over the faint hum of the streetlights. “I shouldn’t have-”

“You shouldn’t have said it?” he interrupted, his tone softer now, closer, like he was holding himself back from leaning all the way into you. “Or... shouldn’t have let me hear it?”

You flinched. “Both,” you muttered, looking down at the ground, your hands twisting in your bag straps.

Felix’s grip tightened slightly, not painfully, but enough to anchor you. “Y/N,” he said, low and steady. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that?”

Your head shot up at that, heart stuttering painfully. “Waiting... for that?”

He nodded once, sharp and deliberate, eyes softening in the dim streetlight. “Yeah. You’ve been giving yourself away for weeks, and I was too stupid to notice. Or maybe too scared to admit it. And then you... you just said it.”

You swallowed hard, realizing how much you had given away, how vulnerable you’d just made yourself. The sound of his voice, the way he was looking at you, intense, full of feeling, made it almost unbearable.

“I- I can’t,” you whispered, shaking your head. “I can’t hear what you’re going to say.”

Felix’s hand fell to the small of your back, steadying you without any pressure. “You don’t have to hear it right now. You just... need to know I feel the same. And I’ve been feeling the same, every stupid, frustrating second. And I... I don’t want to waste another night letting you dance with everyone else while I sit back and watch.”

Your breath hitched. The weight of the confession, his words, the night- it was all too much, but the ache in your chest began to loosen, just a little.

“I...” you started, then faltered, swallowed by the warmth of his gaze.

Felix’s eyes softened, but there was a hesitation there, barely visible, but there. Like he was standing on the edge of something he desperately wanted, but knew he probably shouldn’t. You could see it in the slight tightness of his jaw, the way his shoulders shifted, the way he was breathing just a fraction too fast.

“You... you don’t have to hear all of this,” he said quietly, almost to himself, as if reminding himself of the line he shouldn’t cross. “Maybe you shouldn’t hear it.”

Your chest ached at that, because you did want to hear it. You wanted to know that the pull, the tension, the nights spent thinking about him, he felt it too. And yet, there was that subtle warning, the unspoken “don’t step too close, it could ruin everything.”

“I... I can’t stay out here,” you whispered, stepping back instinctively. “I can’t...”

But Felix didn’t let you move. Not fully. His hand hovered just inches from yours, his eyes pleading, desperate, as if silently begging you not to leave. That look, so unguarded, so honest, it broke something in you.

You swallowed hard, heart thudding painfully against your ribs. “...Can we- can we talk about this... in private?”

The words came out barely above a whisper, trembling, and you immediately regretted how vulnerable they made you. But Felix’s entire expression softened, the hesitation melting into something heavier, more tangible. Relief, mingled with the same pull you’d been feeling all night.

He nodded slowly, giving you the space to move, yet his presence remained grounding. “...Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, we can do that.”

-

The walk back to the dorm was quiet, the night air cooler now that you were moving, but the tension between you and Felix was thick enough to cut through. Every step felt weighted, every brush of his hand as he opened doors for you, every glance he gave, you were acutely aware of him, of his nearness, of how your chest ached in response.

Once inside, the dorm was still, the usual hum of life dampened by the late hour. You followed him to his room, and the door clicked shut behind you with a soft finality. The small, familiar space suddenly felt smaller, charged with all the things you hadn’t said and the things that didn’t need words.

You stood awkwardly near the door, fidgeting with the strap of your bag, while Felix leaned against his desk, arms crossed, trying (and failing) to act casual. The tension was too heavy, too loud, and neither of you knew where to start.

Finally, he cleared his throat.

You glanced up, the intensity of his gaze catching you off guard.

He held it for a moment, and even in the dim light of the room, you could see the hesitation there. He was giving you space, letting you choose where the line was, how close you wanted to let him come.

The air seemed to thin, the weight of it all settling between you, and before your nerves could get the better of you, you forced the words out.

"...How long have you felt like that?"

Felix blinked, his lips parting in surprise, as if the question was the last one he expected. He didn't answer right away, seeming to search for the words.

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I was always kind of aware of it, but... not like this. Not the way it is now."

His words were slow, measured, like he was holding them carefully, letting each one fall exactly where he wanted. It was both calming and nerve-wracking, how deliberate he was, how his gaze stayed locked onto yours.

"And now..." you prompted, heart stuttering.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he whispered, voice cracking. "I just... I can't stand it. I can't keep watching you from the sidelines. Not when I know I could- when I know you could- when we-"

His words tripped over each other, and you knew then, how much he was holding back, how close he was to tipping over. You could see the way his fists clenched at his sides, the way his brows drew together, the tension in his jaw.

You swallowed hard, forcing your voice to work. "...Why can't you?"

He met your gaze, the intensity there sending a jolt through your chest. "Because... I can't pretend like nothing is changing. It is, and I don't want it to."

You didn't have an answer.

You had spent so long holding back, pushing the feeling down, ignoring the looks and the tension and the way his voice did things to you. It had felt impossible, unthinkable, to even consider the possibility of crossing the line. But here he was, standing across from you, saying all the things you had been holding in, and now you were the one with the choice.

"I- I don't know what you want me to say," you managed, voice trembling. "I've been trying not to... think about any of this. Trying not to imagine how it would feel if I-"

You broke off, the words lodging painfully in your throat, the air too heavy to breathe.

Felix stepped forward, slow, measured, and his eyes flickered over your face, reading you. "If what?" he asked, low and rough. "If you let me? If I did?"

Heat rushed to your face.

"I- I shouldn't. We shouldn't-"

"Then stop looking at me like that," he said, his tone sharper now. "Stop coming back here, spending hours with me, falling asleep on my bed, making me want more than I should."

The words were raw, real, and you flinched. He didn't look away.

"We shouldn't," you said again, the words slipping out. "Not- not like this."

Felix's jaw tightened, and he exhaled slowly.

"Tell me why not," he said. His tone wasn't sharp anymore. It was quiet, low, and the way his gaze softened, the way he held himself back, the way he waited, it made you want to give him the honesty he deserved.

You didn't have a good answer. Because the truth was, the line was already blurring, and the reasons not to weren't as compelling anymore. Not after tonight.

"...Things will change forever."

"Things have already changed," he countered. "It's not the same as it was a few weeks ago. We both know it."

You swallowed hard. "What happens after, though? What if- what if-"

"Y/N."

Your name was soft, tender, and he reached out, fingers brushing your hand, his touch lingering, questioning. You didn't move, didn't pull away, but something about his nearness, the look in his eyes, made your breath catch.

"Don't think about tomorrow," he murmured. "Or the day after. Think about now."

You exhaled slowly, his nearness, his words, making it almost impossible to focus.

"Think about me."

The way he looked at you, the way his thumb brushed your skin, the heat curling in your stomach- you were helpless.

"I am."

A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he moved closer, his hand sliding up to your wrist. Your pulse jumped beneath his touch, and his eyes darkened, flicking down, watching.

"Then what do you want?"

It was a question that carried more than one answer, and he knew it.

You closed your eyes, forcing the words out.

"I... I can't think straight when you're touching me."

He was silent, waiting, and the weight of it, the expectation, was unbearable.

"Felix," you whispered, eyes opening, voice trembling.

"What?" he pressed, stepping closer. "Tell me. Whatever you're thinking, whatever you're holding back, just say it. Please."

There was a plea in his voice, and the desperation of it, the weight of the night, it pushed you past the fear, past the reason, and all the walls came down.

"I want you," you whispered, the words tumbling out, the weight of them, the relief, almost enough to make your knees buckle. "I want you, Felix, and it's terrifying, but I-"

You never finished.

Felix's lips crashed into yours, and the kiss stole the words from your mouth, leaving only his name, a desperate, broken gasp, slipping out.

It was everything, the way his hands slid to the small of your back, tugging you close, the way his touch was both gentle and rough, the way he kissed you like he was making up for weeks of lost time.

Your fingers curled in the collar of his shirt, his warmth radiating through the fabric, and the ache, the need. The longing, the frustration, the tension- all of it, it bled away.

Your hands slid down, finding the hem of his shirt, and you slipped beneath it, fingertips pressing against the lean, muscled planes of his back. He let out a low, soft noise, and his grip on your hips tightened, pulling you flush against him.

He broke away, his chest heaving, eyes locked on you.

"Fuck," he breathed, hands sliding up the length of your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You shuddered, heart hammering.

"Are we... are we doing this?"

His lips brushed yours, his words warm, a low whisper. "Do you want to?"

You didn't need to answer, because he could feel the way you reacted, the way your breath hitched, the way you trembled. But still, he held himself back, waiting for the words.

You pressed closer, until his hands slid down, settling at the backs of your thighs. With one movement, he lifted you easily, setting you on the edge of his bed.

His hips fit perfectly between your knees, and the friction of his jeans, the weight of him, it made your head spin.

"Say it," he murmured, leaning in, breath ghosting your neck.

"Yes," you gasped, his lips on your skin, the sensation making it almost impossible to focus, and the ache, the need, it was overwhelming.

His fingers slid beneath the hem of your shirt, and his touch was cool, gentle, his calluses dragging over your skin. His lips moved lower, following the path his fingers traced, and his tongue flickered against the hollow of your throat, his teeth grazing your collarbone, and the heat, the rush of it, left you reeling.

You tugged his shirt over his head, fingers tangling in his hair, and the way his muscles shifted, the warmth of his skin, the way his eyes found yours, heavy-lidded, full of desire, it made you feel dizzy, weak, powerless.

His hand slipped behind your neck, fingers sliding into your hair, tilting your head back. Your lips parted, his breath warm against your skin, and he paused, a fraction of an inch away.

He hovered there, lips barely brushing yours, and then suddenly drew back just an inch, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His hand slid from your neck and into his own hair, fingers combing through the strands and pushing them back. They fell forward again almost instantly, dampened by a sheen of sweat that caught the faint light.

A single bead ran down his temple, tracing the line of his jaw, and he let out a breathy laugh, almost self-deprecating, flashing you the most devastatingly nervous smile. He looked like he had just caught up to what was happening, like it had finally hit him full force.

“Shit,” he muttered, his voice low, wrecked, his accent curling around the word. “If it wasn’t obvious already... I like you. I’ve liked you. So much more than I should’ve.”

The raw honesty in it made your stomach twist, your chest ache, but it was that crooked, almost boyish smile that undid you completely.

You tilted your head, breath unsteady, and tugged at the hem of your own shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one motion. The air felt instantly cooler against your skin, and you watched as Felix’s eyes widened, his throat working as he swallowed hard, gaze dragging down and then snapping back up to your face.

“Noted,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended, but steady enough to make his lips part in a shaky exhale.

His hands slid up your waist, and you could feel the tremor in his touch, the restraint in the way his fingers curled in the fabric, like he was fighting the urge to just tear it off. Instead, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your shoulder, the heat of his mouth contrasting the cold air, the way his breath tickled your skin.

His fingers worked their way lower, fumbling with the button on your jeans, and the way they dragged against the bare skin of your stomach, the anticipation, the nerves- it sent a shiver up your spine.

Your jeans peeled away, the air cool and soft against your legs, and Felix pulled back, just for a moment, just enough to let his eyes sweep over you.

His pupils were blown wide, lips parted, his breath uneven. He looked almost wrecked, his cheeks flushed, the rise and fall of his chest betraying how much he wanted you.

His fingers paused at your waistband, his knuckles brushing your skin as he froze, eyes snapping back to yours.

The heat between you was suffocating, thick, and you felt your own pulse stutter at the way he looked at you, hungry, desperate, but trying so damn hard to keep himself under control.

You lifted a hand, pressing it to his chest, not to push him away but to slow him down. Your voice was soft, but it still cut through the heavy silence.

“It’s not fair,” you murmured, breath catching. “If I’m the only one stripped.”

For a second, he just stared at you, lips parted, his chest rising and falling against your palm. Then, his mouth curled, just slightly, into something between a smirk and a nervous grin, like he’d been caught red-handed.

“Yeah?” he rasped, accent thicker now, his tone a mix of playfulness and heat. “You want me to even it out?”

Before you could answer, he reached for the button of his jeans, undoing it with a flick of his wrist. His shirt was already gone, but when he shoved the denim down his hips, it was different, slow, deliberate, almost teasing. He kicked them off, standing there in just his boxers, every line of him illuminated in the dim light, broad shoulders, lean waist, the twitch of muscle under his skin with every breath.

You couldn’t help but look, your gaze dragging over him, lingering. And he noticed. God, he noticed, his smirk deepened, but his ears burned red as if he couldn’t quite believe he was letting you see him like this.

Felix leaned down, close enough that his hair brushed your cheek, his voice dropping low, intimate, wrecked.

“Better?” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

Your hands found the waistband of his boxers, your fingers twisting in the fabric, pulling him closer. He was right there, hovering over you, the warmth of his skin and the way he smelled, and it was all so much, overwhelming, but you didn’t want him to pull away.

Felix shifted, the bed dipping under his weight as he knelt, and his hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your neck. You felt the warmth of his lips against your jaw, the brush of his fingers, trailing over the skin of your inner thigh.

Your breath hitched, your body instinctively tilting toward him, and the sound pulled a low groan from Felix’s chest, raw, unguarded. His fingers skimmed higher, featherlight, maddening in their restraint, while his mouth pressed another kiss along your jaw, then lower, grazing the line of your throat.

“Felix...” you whispered, half-plea, half-warning, and you felt the curve of his smile against your skin.

“You say my name like that,” he murmured, voice rough and quiet, “and you expect me to behave?”

Your hand twisted tighter in his waistband, tugging, pulling him closer until his hips brushed yours, the heat of him undeniable. His breath stuttered, and you felt the tremor in him, like he was holding back something dangerous, like one wrong move and he’d lose every ounce of control.

Your fingers slipped under the hem of his shirt, the fabric already half-bunched from the way he leaned over you. He let you tug, slow, deliberate, lifting his arms just enough for you to peel it off him completely. The soft cotton hit the floor somewhere behind you, forgotten, and you froze for a second, dazed.

The sight of him, bare, golden skin stretched over lean muscle, every subtle line and shadow, hit you like a punch. His chest rose and fell, broad and sculpted, his stomach taut, the faint trail of hair disappearing beneath his boxers making your throat go dry. You’d imagined him like this before, but nothing compared to actually seeing him, the heat radiating off of him, the way every breath seemed to tremble with restraint.

Felix caught your expression and huffed a laugh, low and wrecked, his mouth curling into that crooked smirk that somehow made your chest ache and your stomach twist at once.

"Yeah?” he teased, but his voice betrayed him; shaky, breathless, like he wasn’t entirely sure he could handle you looking at him like that.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you lifted your hand and set it against his chest, your palm hot against his skin, feeling the steady pound of his heart under your touch. He shivered at the contact, eyes slipping shut for a second as if it grounded him.

Then he caught your wrist gently, guiding you. “Here,” he murmured, voice dark silk. His hand covered yours, urging your fingers lower. Your nails grazed over his skin, just lightly, dragging down his chest, across the ridges of his stomach. His breath hitched, a sound you swore you could feel reverberate through him, and his grip on your wrist tightened; not to stop you, but to anchor himself.

“God, you’re-” His words cut off with a sharp inhale when your fingers trailed past his navel, stopping at the waistband of his boxers. The thin fabric dipped slightly under your touch, the heat radiating through it enough to make your pulse stutter.

Your fingertips slipped just past the elastic, grazing skin that was hotter than you thought possible. The muscle in Felix’s stomach jumped under your touch, and his head fell forward, lips brushing your temple as he let out a broken sound, low and guttural.

“Shit...” he muttered, breath unsteady. For a second, he just stayed like that, trembling under the featherlight drag of your nails, like he was caught between begging you for more and begging you to stop.

Then his hand caught yours, not to pull you away, but to hold it there, to stop you from retreating. His laugh came out breathless, almost disbelieving, a wrecked little sound that tickled against your skin.

“You think you’re the only one who can play like that?” he rasped, the challenge clear in his tone.

Before you could answer, his free hand slid down, curling around your waist and dragging slowly, deliberately, until his fingers hovered at the band of your underwear. He mimicked your touch, just the faintest brush past the edge, teasing, testing, while his eyes burned into yours.

Every move was maddeningly slow, his fingertips tracing small circles against skin he wasn’t quite touching enough.

“Feels unfair if I don’t return the favor,” Felix whispered, his accent thick, the words sinking into your skin like heat.

The tension snapped taut between you, both of you hovering right at the edge, teasing, testing who would give in first.

It was all too much. Too many sensations, his scent, his touch, his voice, the way his eyes flickered from yours, to your mouth, to where his hand traced the skin of your hip, the way he was both gentle and rough, the restraint and the fire.

You couldn't take it anymore.

Your hand trailed lower, sliding fully into his boxers, the suddenness making him inhale sharply, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

"Y/N..." he breathed, and the sound of it, the desperation, the need, it sent a jolt of heat through you, leaving you aching.

He didn't say anything else, and maybe it was because he didn't have any more words. Maybe it was because the moment you curled your fingers around him, he let out a sound that was barely human, something low and ragged and so fucking sexy that the heat rushing to your core left you reeling.

He was warm and heavy in your hand, and the way his hips bucked forward, the way his body shook, it was so damn intoxicating, knowing what you did to him.

You didn't give him time to recover. Your fingers moved slowly, deliberately, the pace almost torture, and his head fell forward, his breath hot and heavy against your skin.

His lips parted, his breath ghosting your shoulder, the faint scrape of his teeth and the muffled, ragged sound he made, it made your whole body shudder, heat pooling low and insistent.

His fingers followed, trailing down to brush over the sensitive spot between your legs. The sensation was too much, too intense, and you felt a strangled noise rip from your throat, a gasp, a moan, and a shudder rolled through you.

Felix let out a groan, his body curving into yours, and you could feel him hard and aching against your palm, the way his hips rocked instinctively into the circle of your hand.

The air was thick with heat and the sounds the two of you were making, and fuck, you wanted him, wanted him so much you could hardly breathe.

His fingers curled, sliding into you, and a whimper slipped out before you could stop it. The feeling was electric, overwhelming, and when he added another, curling them deeper, the noise you made was almost obscene.

He pulled his head back just far enough to watch you, and the sight of him, pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling unevenly, was enough to make you ache.

Felix shuddered, his grip on you tightening, his thumb dragging over the sensitive bud between your thighs, and the sensation sent a ripple of pleasure through you, the coil of heat in your stomach tightening.

He leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours, his hair brushing your skin, and the intimacy, the nearness, the way his eyes locked onto yours, dark and hazy with lust, the intensity of it was overwhelming.

You wanted him, needed him, so badly it hurt.

"Felix," you whispered again, the name slipping out, a desperate gasp, a plea, a prayer. "I need more."

His name on your lips wrecked him. Felix swore under his breath, the sound rough and broken as his fingers stilled inside you for just a heartbeat, like he was trying to hold himself back. His forehead pressed harder against yours, breaths mingling, his whole body trembling with restraint.

“You’ll ruin me,” he whispered, the confession torn from his chest, like he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

But then your hips rolled, chasing the friction of his thumb, and he lost whatever self-control he had left. His fingers drove deeper, curling just right, dragging another helpless sound out of you.

“You feel-” His voice cracked, dark and husky, “-fuck, you feel too good.”

Your own hand, still wrapped around him, felt him twitch under your palm, hot and insistent, and you tightened your grip just slightly. His hips jerked, a strangled groan tearing out of him as his mouth dropped open against your jaw.

It was all happening so fast, the heat, the need, the way his voice, his hands, his lips, everything was pushing you past the point of no return.

“Please, Felix,” you begged, the words tumbling out ragged and broken, barely comprehensible.

His breath caught, his fingers slipping free of you, and for a fleeting second you thought he was going to pull away. But instead, his hand found your waist, tugging you down firmly, while his other slid beneath the small of your back, steady and supportive.

The shift in position made your stomach flip, you realized what he was doing. Your hips tilted, his body settling over yours, knees pressing into the mattress on either side of you, caging you in. He was so close now, his weight grounding, his heat surrounding you.

Your hands shot to the waistband of your underwear, shoving them down urgently, and Felix’s mouth opened like he was about to say something, only to snap shut again when your eagerness registered. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, but then he gave this soft, crooked little smile, boyish and devastatingly sweet even in a moment like this.

“I was gonna ask if you were sure about this...” he said, voice low and rough, a playful edge in the way his lips quirked. “But I guess you just answered me.”

Your heart stuttered at the way he looked at you, equal parts adoration and hunger, and then impatience took over. You tugged at his waistband, fingers fumbling with the fabric, a frustrated whine slipping out when he didn’t move fast enough.

Felix’s smile curved in that infuriatingly sweet way that made your whole body burn hotter. “You could wait all this time...” he murmured, eyes low, glinting as they flicked over your flushed face, “but now’s the time you wanna rush?”

It wasn’t mocking, if anything, it was fond, like he found your impatience both unbearably cute and unbearably tempting at the same time. And then, mercifully, he finally hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, shoving them down.

The moment they hit the floor, he shifted against you, and your breath hitched. His length brushed your inner thigh, heavy and hot, and your stomach flipped violently at the sheer sight of him. No matter how many times you’d caught glimpses, every time left you stunned, disbelieving that someone like him could look so devastatingly good.

Without thinking, your hips moved, grinding up against him in desperate need. He hissed at the contact, hips twitching, but then he pulled back just enough to break the friction.

“Wait-” His hand pressed lightly to your hip, breath ragged. “I need to grab something real quick.”

You let out a whine, your brows furrowing as the heat and ache surged through you at the thought of him stopping now. “Felix...”

His lips softened into that apologetic little pout as he brushed his thumb over your skin, whispering low, “I’m sorry, baby.” He bent to kiss your jaw, your temple, soothing even as he edged back.

It was only for a second, just long enough for him to reach into the bedside table, his fingers closing around a condom. Then, he was back, kneeling between your knees, ripping open the packet with his teeth. He smoothed the latex over himself, the way his hips rocked into the touch betraying his urgency, his need.

Felix leaned down, the movement smooth and sinuous, his muscles rippling under his skin, and you bit your lip, feeling a rush of heat at the way he moved, at the way his abs flexed.

His hair tickled your cheek as he bent to nuzzle the soft skin behind your ear, his breath warm against your neck, his voice rough silk.

"Can I?"

The question was low and teasing, but the way his voice broke just slightly, the tremble in his fingers as he stroked your thigh, betrayed him.

God, the way his hand moved, the way his chest rose and fell, his muscles flexing, the anticipation and nerves and hunger in his expression, it was almost enough to undo you completely.

The words escaped you. You could only nod, frantic, a strangled little "yes" slipping out.

A soft sound of relief, or maybe frustration, slipped past his lips, his shoulders sagging. For a moment, his forehead rested against yours, and you could feel his breath against your lips.

"Okay."

His voice was rough, his accent thick and heavy, and his fingers traced slow, gentle circles on the inside of your thigh, so close but not quite close enough.

"If it's too much-"

"Just do it," you gasped, impatient, begging, desperate.

The corner of his mouth quirked up, that smirk sharp and soft at the same time, and his hand left your thigh, sliding between you. His fingers dragged across the skin, tracing a line between your thighs, the contact almost enough to make you cry out.

Then, he was guiding himself to you, the blunt head pressing lightly.

Felix exhaled, slow, shuddering, his eyes slipping shut, the sensation making him tremble.

Your hips rolled, trying to draw him in, and his eyes snapped open, his free hand finding your hip and pinning you gently, holding you there.

He held your gaze, eyes dark and burning, and you could feel the heat and the pressure, the way he twitched under the contact.

"Easy, baby," he murmured, the endearment slipping out like he couldn't stop it.

And then, slowly, he began to press into you, careful, cautious, inch by inch.

He went slow, too damn slow, the pace agonizing, and the noises that fell from your lips were barely human, desperate and broken.

The stretch, the feel of him inside you, was almost too much, the sensation leaving you gasping, trembling.

He hissed, his eyes squeezed shut, his body trembling, and you could feel him pulsing inside you, fighting the urge to go faster.

He stopped, just for a moment, letting you adjust, and then his hips moved, shallow, careful thrusts. The sound he made, low and guttural, raw, needy, was enough to make the tension in your belly tighten.

You swear, just watching his face alone could finish you off entirely. The way his brows furrowed, his jaw dropping, the sounds that slipped out, they were so, so damn hot, and they only got more intense.

Your hips lifted, pulling him deeper, and the feeling made him shudder, the restraint and caution slipping away.

His hips rolled, grinding against yours, and you felt a wave of pleasure so strong it made your vision blur, a sound falling from your lips that was dangerously close to a sob.

"Oh, God." Felix groaned, his fingers tightening around your hip.

He drew back, and the drag of him against you was electric, every nerve ending lighting up.

"Fuck." His head fell forward, his mouth open, his eyes dark and hungry. "You're- ah..."

He was lost for words, the ones he managed were barely coherent.

You could feel every muscle in him tensing, his body shaking, his moans turning into little whimpers, as if the feeling was overwhelming him.

Your hand found his wrist, pulling him toward you, and the movement made him moan, the sound sending a ripple of heat through you.

Your nails dug into his skin, leaving half-moon marks, and he swore, the sound harsh, almost startled, but the way his eyes flashed made it clear he liked it.

His head fell helplessly into the gap between your shoulder and your neck, the sensation of his breath, the faint brush of his lips, the sound of his voice, how desperate and ruined he looked, was all way too much for you.

Your nails dragged along his back, and he whimpered, the sound so needy, so desperate, that you almost came undone right there.

"I like it so much... I like you." you breathed out without being able to stop yourself.

You could feel the hitch in his breathing, the way his heart beat against your skin, and he lifted his head to look at you, his gaze heavy-lidded and dazed, his pupils blown wide.

"You..." he whispered, the word almost a question.

Then he dipped his head and kissed you, the movement desperate, feverish. His hips stuttered, losing the careful, slow rhythm he'd maintained, and his free hand found your hair, tangling in it.

The change was overwhelming, the intensity of his touch, the taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, it was almost too much.

His tongue brushed yours, the kiss sloppy, messy, his lips parting for air.

The kiss broke, his breath ragged, and his hips rolled again, the sudden force sending another jolt through you.

Your name tumbled out, a rough whisper against your lips, his voice hoarse, broken, the sound of it making you feel weak.

Your hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him closer, the need overwhelming.

You wanted him, needed him.

"Felix..." You moaned his name, the word coming out in a broken sob, and he swore, a curse, a prayer, his grip on your hip tightening.

Your body arched against his, a whimper spilling from his lips, and his fingers clenched in your hair, tugging, the movement sending a spike of heat through you.

His mouth brushed your neck, hot, desperate, and then he sank his teeth into the sensitive skin, the slight pain, the feeling of him marking you making your stomach flip, the knot in your core tightening.

Your hips lifted, grinding against him, the drag of his length against you perfect, and his mouth dropped open, a sharp, high whimper breaking from him. The sound alone sent a tremor through you, the knot in your core tightening until it was almost unbearable.

He moved with you, losing rhythm entirely, every thrust frantic, chasing the high as much as you were. His grip on your hip turned bruising, his chest heaving against yours, and his breath came in harsh, broken gasps.

The world tunneled down to him, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, the heat of his skin, the way he whispered your name like it was a plea, like it was the only word he knew.

His hips slammed forward again. The sudden force sent stars bursting across your vision.

Your whole body shook, the wave building sharp and fast, snapping before you had a chance to breathe. Pleasure hit like a surge, electric and all-consuming, every nerve lit on fire. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders, and Felix swore against your mouth, voice guttural, shuddering.

It was too much. His teeth grazed your jaw, his hips stuttered, and the two of you unraveled at the same time, heat flooding you, the sounds of both your cries tangled together, ragged and raw.

The intensity tore through you, blinding, your body arching helplessly beneath his. The room tilted, everything spinning and endless until it swallowed you whole.

-

Your body felt heavy, boneless, when consciousness slowly crept back in. The haze of heat and exhaustion lingered, but the sharp edge of it had dulled to something soft, a slow hum in your veins. Your lashes fluttered, and with effort, your eyes finally opened.

The first thing you saw was Felix.

He was sitting at the foot of the bed, his hands carefully working along your calves and thighs, thumbs pressing gently into sore muscles like he’d been at it for a while. His hair was messy, a little damp at the temples, sticking up in every direction. That scrunched look had taken over his face, brows drawn together, lips pressed into a thin line, concentration mixing with something achingly tender.

And then he noticed. The second your eyes locked on him, his own widened slightly, his hands stilling.

You froze, too, the memory of everything you’d done earlier crashing down on you in vivid, dizzying flashes. The sounds you made. The way you begged. The things you’d said. Your body flushed hot all over again, heat blooming in your cheeks until you had to look away, biting your lip.

“Ahm...” Felix cleared his throat, and you felt his hands retreat, retreating like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. His voice came out small, uncertain. “You’re... awake. Sorry, uh-” He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting everywhere but you. “I thought you might... be sore, so I just... didn’t want you to, y’know, wake up hurting.”

That nervous laugh of his slipped out, soft and shaky, and you had to bury your face in the blanket for a second just to handle how shy and endearing he looked.

When you finally peeked up again, you noticed he’d put clothes on you, one of his shirts, soft and oversized, hanging loose around your frame, and himself, too. He looked smaller in the moment, curled in on himself, shoulders hunched like he thought you might scold him.

“I, uh...” His voice dropped lower, almost sheepish. “I think I went a little overboard. Sorry for... for overloading you.” He gave a tiny, almost guilty smile, his cheeks pink. “You just... you felt so-” He stopped himself with a quick shake of his head, face flushing deeper, as if even admitting what he wanted to say was too much.

His fingers toyed with the blanket, picking at a loose thread. His throat bobbed, his eyes still refusing to meet yours.

Your heart squeezed.

You couldn't remember a single time when you'd ever seen him so awkward, so flustered. You couldn't imagine him ever being embarrassed or shy. But this side of him was so cute and sweet and innocent, and it made you melt.

You pulled yourself upright, ignoring the way the movement made your thighs twinge, and slid a little closer.

"Felix, hey-" Your voice cracked. It felt like you hadn't used it in days, the sound dry and rough, and it took a moment for him to lift his eyes, hesitant.

The way his brows were scrunched up, the way his mouth was pressed into a hard line, the way his gaze searched you, like he thought maybe you regretted everything that had happened, like he was scared you might not want him after all, it made something catch in your chest.

"I liked... it." You had to take a steadying breath, willing the flush to die down, forcing yourself to keep going, despite the embarrassment. "I like you, too."

Felix blinked at you, lips parting like he hadn’t heard you right.

“You... do?” His voice was so small, almost fragile, like he was afraid if he asked too loud it would disappear.

You nodded quickly, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “Yeah. I do.”

His whole face lit up in a way that nearly knocked the air out of your lungs, like someone had flicked on a light inside him. The corners of his mouth tugged up before he could stop it, dimples flashing, eyes shining so wide you could swear you saw stars in them. He ducked his head a little, shoulders curling, and you could see the way his ears burned red.

Your chest squeezed so tightly it almost hurt. You leaned in before you could think twice, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He froze, stunned, and you giggled against his skin. That gave you more courage, you kissed the other corner of his mouth, then the tip of his nose, his cheeks, his forehead.

“Stop-” he laughed, his voice cracking adorably as his hands shot up to shield his face, but he wasn’t actually pushing you away. He was grinning so wide his dimples nearly caved in. “You’re embarrassing me...”

“Good,” you teased, stealing another kiss from his cheek before he could hide it completely. “You deserve it.”

Felix peeked at you through his fingers, his shy grin so radiant it made your heart flip over. He lowered his hands slowly, and this time he leaned in to press a quick, feather-light kiss against your lips. It was so brief, so cautious, like he was testing the waters, but you felt it all the way to your toes.

You smiled against his mouth, ready to pull him closer, but the second you shifted, a sharp ache jolted through your core. You gasped softly, freezing.

Felix instantly pulled back, alarm flickering in his expression. “Are you-? Did I-?” His voice stumbled, guilt washing over his face.

You shook your head quickly, pressing your palm to his arm. “No, no- it’s okay. I’m just... sore. Really sore. This is just new to me.”

The way his face fell made your chest ache. He looked wrecked with guilt, like he was already blaming himself for pushing you too far.

“Hey,” you said softly, squeezing his arm until he looked at you again. “I’m not upset. Really. I just... think maybe this is enough for tonight.”

He nodded instantly, maybe too quickly, like he’d been waiting for you to say it so he wouldn’t risk hurting you more. “Yeah. Yeah, of course. We should- uh- rest. Sleep.” His voice was hushed, still tinged with worry, but he tried to give you a small, reassuring smile.

You tucked yourself against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you without hesitation, careful and gentle this time, like you were something fragile. His warmth seeped into you, steadying your heartbeat as your eyelids grew heavy.

“Sleep sounds perfect,” you murmured.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

WARNINGS: smut, lots of kissing, lowkey dry-humping, grinding, masturbation (m. rec), hair pulling, handjob, a lot of sounds are made

Fight or flight? No doubt you chose flight.

You weren't sure how long you stayed in your room, but the tension was so thick throughout the entire house that you couldn't dare to step out of your comfort place.

Embarrassment clung to your skin like a second layer, suffocating and unrelenting. You, too mortified to face reality, had trapped yourself in your room.

Your friends had noticed, of course. You couldn’t completely cut yourself off without them catching on, especially when meals became a problem. The reliance on others for basic needs was humiliating, but the thought of stepping outside your self-imposed prison made your stomach churn.

Chan, ever the nurturing friend, complied without question at first, bringing you food with a furrowed brow and soft reminders. “You’re gonna get sick if you stay in here,” he’d say gently, setting the plate on your desk before retreating without prying too much- though the concern in his eyes lingered long after he left.

Lee Know, on the other hand, was less forgiving. When you’d sheepishly asked him through text for a favor, he left you on read without a single reply. The message was clear: get your act together.

Then there were Seungmin and Han. Unlike the others, they weren’t content to just drop off food and go. Seungmin, sharp-eyed and intuitive, had crossed his arms and leaned against your doorframe one afternoon, his voice tinged with amusement but lined with curiosity. “You wanna tell me what’s really going on?” he’d asked, his tone deceptively casual. When you shook your head, he’d sighed dramatically. “You’re lucky I’m nice.”

Han was less subtle. He’d plopped down outside your door once, knocking rhythmically until you opened up just a crack. “C’mon,” he coaxed, grinning mischievously. “Whatever happened can’t be that bad. Spill it.” You’d slammed the door in his face before he could say more, your face burning.

But tonight was different.

"So you like pulling hair, hm?" A deep voice drawled, the words barely a whisper before the tug on your hair sent a jolt through your entire body.

Your knees hit the floor, the sharp sting of the impact radiating through your legs, but it was nothing compared to the scorching heat that coursed through your veins. Felix stood above you, his dark eyes gleaming with an amusement that made your pulse quicken. His hand remained in your hair, pulling your head back with an ease that made you feel entirely at his mercy.

"Tell me, is that all you want from me?" His voice was low, teasing, almost dangerous. The question lingered in the air, thick and charged, as if daring you to admit something you weren’t sure you wanted to say.

You wanted to answer, wanted to insist that wasn’t the case at all. You couldn’t think like this about Felix. He was your best friend. He always had been. But the words stuck in your throat, none of the words formed in your head being able to come out. Instead, a single, breathless "Yes" escaped, and it felt like your whole world tilted.

"If I’d known sooner," Felix murmured, his breath ghosting against your ear, "I would've just given you what you wanted right away. Saved us both the trouble, huh?"

Heat flushed your skin. Shame mixed with something more dangerous, as his words settled into your chest like a weight. The rough pull on your hair made your breath catch. He didn’t have to speak again for you to understand the power he wielded over you in that moment.

"You thought you could hide it, didn’t you? Pervert."

The word hit like a slap, but it only stoked the fire burning deep inside you, a dangerous mixture of arousal and guilt. The feeling was intoxicating, suffocating, leaving you dizzy.

Your eyes flew open, your body jerking awake with a gasp as if you'd just surfaced from deep water. The darkness of your room enveloped you, but it did little to soothe the wild thrum in your chest. Your skin was sticky with sweat, the sheets clinging to you in uncomfortable heat.

Felix’s voice lingered in your ears, a faint whisper that refused to leave you. The echo of his touch, his hand in your hair, was still present, the warmth of it searing your scalp and making your body ache in places you didn’t want to acknowledge.

What the hell?

Your heart hammered in your chest, too fast, too loud. You couldn’t get his words out of your head: Pervert. The way he had looked down at you, amused, like he knew exactly what you were feeling. The power, the control. It was all wrong, and yet the heat between your legs told a different story.

"God," you whispered hoarsely, your body betraying you as you squeezed your thighs together, trying in vain to will the ache away. It was irrational, unwanted, but you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop thinking about Felix. Your best friend.

You shifted in the bed, throwing an arm over your face in a feeble attempt to block it all out. This was all your mind playing tricks on you. Your subconscious messing with you because of that stupid night, the one when you'd been curled up against him, your fingers brushing through his hair absently. The sound he made when you tugged at the strands had been so soft, so unexpected, that it had sent a bolt of heat straight to your core.

You hadn’t meant to pull his hair. You hadn’t meant to like it. You hadn’t meant for anything that followed to happen, either. But there was only so long you could tell yourself it was a mistake before it stopped feeling like one.

That night. That night when you’d asked- no, pleaded with him to let you watch. It had been an accident, a slip of the tongue, a momentary lapse in judgment. But it wasn’t just a mistake.

It wasn’t just one.

That was the part that made your chest tight with panic, the feeling that it had already happened once, and now you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

No. You wouldn’t let yourself do this again. You couldn’t.

It was just a dream, you repeated aloud, as if saying the words would make them true. Just a dream.

But even as the words left your lips, you knew they didn’t make sense. The ache, the heat, the guilt, they were real, and they felt dangerously real.

Just a dream.

-

You tried. You really did.

You buried yourself under your blankets, squeezed your eyes shut, and willed your mind to drift anywhere but back to him- to Felix’s voice, his touch, the ghost of his breath against your skin. But the harder you tried to suppress it, the more it clawed its way to the surface, relentless and consuming.

Sleep wouldn’t come. It never did on nights like this.

You rolled onto your side, gripping the sheets in frustration, your heart still unsteady. The dreams had unsettled you in ways you weren’t ready to confront. It wasn’t just the weight of his words, the way they had sent a shiver down your spine, it was everything else. The longing. The loss. The quiet, aching realization that you missed him.

Not just his touch, not just the confusing way your body had responded to him in your dream. You missed him.

His laugh would make his eyes sparkle, and always broke through the heaviest of silences. The way he clung to you without hesitation, throwing his arms around your shoulders or draping himself over you like it was second nature. You used to roll your eyes, shove him off playfully, but now? Now you felt cold without the weight of him, without the warmth of his presence filling the space beside you.

And you’d been avoiding him.

You’d kept your distance, hoping that space would clear your head, but it only made it worse. The days felt empty without his voice in them, without his brightness cutting through your usual gloom. Now everything seemed unbearably quiet.

A choked sound slipped past your lips before you even realized you were crying.

Hot tears rolled down your cheeks, and you curled into yourself, gripping the pillow like it could somehow fill the space Felix left behind. You felt stupid. Weak. But no matter how hard you tried to push the feeling down, it only swelled, filling your chest with a pressure you couldn’t escape.

You missed him. You missed him so much it hurt.

You hated this. You hated yourself for feeling this way, for wanting him so badly when you weren’t even sure what it was you wanted. For running away when all you really wanted to do was run straight to him.

Why couldn't you have just said nothing that day? Why did you have to make a mess of things and then disappear? Why did you have to ruin everything with a few stupid words?

"Lixie..."

Your voice sounded foreign to your own ears, the words a strained, choked whisper.

"I miss you."

-

The next morning, the sky was overcast, threatening rain. A dull grey had settled over the world, the clouds hanging low in the sky, the air heavy and damp.

You couldn’t bring yourself to care.

You were exhausted, having barely slept a wink, and the last thing you wanted to do was get up.

But there was a nagging sense of guilt, a persistent feeling that you should at least try. So, with great effort, you dragged yourself out of bed.

The house was quiet, the silence broken only by the distant patter of rain against the window. The kitchen was empty, the countertop clean and bare, as if nobody had touched it.

You stood in the empty kitchen, fingers ghosting over the cold countertop. The house was eerily still. No clatter of dishes, no muffled voices from the other rooms, no muffled music playing through the walls, nothing.

Felix wasn’t here.

Your feet moved before your mind caught up.

The hallway was dim, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound accompanying you as you stopped in front of his door. It was cracked open, just enough for you to push it the rest of the way without much effort.

The moment you stepped inside, his scent wrapped around you.

Warm, familiar, Felix.

A mix of something subtly sweet; maybe vanilla, and the faint trace of his cologne. It was so distinctly him that your chest tightened painfully, a strange feeling simmering under your skin.

Your gaze drifted over the room, taking in the familiar chaos. His desk was cluttered, papers scattered haphazardly, some crumpled at the edges like he’d been frustrated while working. His PC sat idle, a dark screen reflecting the dim light filtering in through the rain-streaked window.

And your eyes roamed to the other side, you saw them.

An array of different kinds of photos all together on his desk.

Your breath caught as you stepped closer, fingers hesitantly brushing over the small collection of photos.

It was you. Both of you.

Photos you don't even remember taking, one of you and him dressed for a formal night, a photo strip you guys took at a mall together, a picture of you sleeping on him.

He had kept these.

You swallowed hard, a wave of something you didn’t know how to name crashing over you. You didn't know what this meant right now, sure, it was normal to keep photos of your friends, but so close to his desk? A place he spends a lot of his time at?

Slowly, you turned away from the desk, eyes landing on his bed. The blanket on his mattress was messy, like he’d left in a hurry, and the sight of them made your stomach twist.

You shouldn’t. And you knew you shouldn’t.

But the weight of everything was too much, the pull of him too strong. Before you could second-guess yourself, you were crawling into his bed, sinking into the warmth of his space, his scent enveloping you completely.

Had he been sleeping well? Hopefully, he had some peace at night compared to you.

Or did he spend his nights thinking of you as well? Did he miss you too?

Did he stare at your photos until his eyes started to hurt, and then close them, wishing he could fall asleep and see you instead of the back of his eyelids?

Was it wrong to imagine him like this? To think about him the same way he had thought about you?

You weren’t sure. Maybe, probably, definitely.

But in the safety of his room, surrounded by his scent, the thought was too tempting to ignore.

Felix was your best friend. He had been since forever. And yet, you couldn’t help but think about him like this. The way he had looked at you, the way his fingers had curled around your chin, his gaze focused on you. The way his breath had hitched, the way he had pulled his lower lip between his teeth. The way his cheeks flushed.

He was beautiful. You knew that, you always had, but the thought never felt this... dangerous.

And he had looked at you. Just, only at you.

Like you were the only thing he could see. Like you were the only thing that mattered. Like he wanted to devour you, and it scared the shit out of you.

It was stupid. Irrational.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sheets, his scent overwhelming you in the best and worst way possible. It made your skin burn, your stomach twist, your mind spiral into places you shouldn’t let it go.

It wasn’t just missing him anymore.

It was wanting him.

The weight of it pressed down on you, suffocating in its intensity. You squeezed your eyes shut, biting down on your lip, desperately trying to will the feeling away. But it was useless.

You could still feel the ghost of his touch, the way his fingers had brushed against your skin, the way he had looked at you, really looked at you. Not as a friend. Not as someone he’d known forever. But as something else. Something more.

The memory of it sent a shiver down your spine.

Your thighs pressed together involuntarily, but it only made things worse. The ache was unbearable, sharp and all-consuming. Your body was betraying you, responding to something you weren’t ready to admit to yourself.

You let out a shaky breath, barely a whimper, and before you could stop it, a sob ripped through your chest.

Tears burned hot as they slid down your cheeks, frustration and guilt tangling into something unbearable. What was wrong with you? Why were you like this? Why did you have to ruin everything by feeling this way?

Felix was your best friend. Your best friend.

And yet, here you were, crying into his pillow because you wanted him so badly it hurt.

The sound of the door creaking open barely registered at first.

"Y/N?"

You froze.

The sound of Felix’s voice cut through the haze of your emotions like a blade, sharp and inescapable. It shouldn’t have been this way. You shouldn’t be in his bed, gripping his sheets like they were the only thing tethering you to the world. You shouldn’t be crying over him, missing him so desperately that it physically hurt.

You shouldn’t want him.

But you did.

And now, standing at the foot of the bed, Felix was looking at you, really looking at you, his damp hair from the rain clinging to his forehead, his lips slightly parted in shock. His eyes, warm and deep, flickered with too many emotions to decipher.

“Shit,” he breathed.

His voice was unsteady, like he wasn’t sure what to say, like he was trying to understand why you were here, curled up in his sheets, looking at him like he was the only thing keeping you from shattering completely.

He said your name again, softer this time, laced with concern.

You forced yourself to sit up, your fingers trembling as you swiped at your tear-streaked cheeks. The weight of his stare was suffocating. What are you even supposed to say? That you missed him? That you had spent nights aching for him, haunted by the way he used to fit into your life, into your space, into you?

You swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper. "Sorry."

Felix’s brows furrowed. That was the last thing he expected you to say.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was quiet, but there was something else beneath it. Something careful. Something dangerous.

You hesitated. “I… I was looking for you.”

It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn’t the whole truth either.

Felix’s expression softened, his sharp features easing into something more familiar, something more him. He took a step closer, then another, hesitance flickering in his eyes like he was afraid you might bolt.

You didn’t.

Instead, you stayed still as he slowly, cautiously, sat down on the edge of the bed beside you.

The space between you was barely there, just inches separating your leg from his, the warmth of him reaching you before his touch did. The tension was suffocating, thick enough to drown in. It was the closest you had been to him in weeks, and the reality of it sent your pulse into a dizzying rhythm.

"Y/N…"

The way he said your name; gentle, almost pleading, made something inside you splinter.

He turned his body toward you, leaning in slightly, his voice softer than the rain against the window. “Are you okay?”

You wished he hadn’t asked.

The moment the words left his lips, something inside you gave way, cracking under the weight of everything you’d been holding back.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but it was useless. The flood was already coming.

A choked sob tore from your throat, your body betraying you as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. You shook your head, barely able to breathe through the tightness in your chest.

“No,” you whispered, broken and raw.

And then Felix moved. No hesitation as he reached for you, pulling you against him in one fluid motion, his arms wrapping around you in a way that felt effortless. Like this is where you were meant to be.

His warmth consumed you instantly, the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding you even as your own breath came out uneven and shaky. He smelled like rain and something distinctly him, vanilla, musk, and home, it made your head spin.

You clung to him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie like he might disappear if you let go. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, his skin warm against your cheek. The scent of him, the weight of his arms around you, it was everything you had missed, everything you had craved but refused to admit.

Felix let out a breath against your hair, his grip tightening, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against your back. But you could feel it, the way his heartbeat wasn’t steady, the way his own breath was just slightly uneven.

Was he feeling this too?

Was this affecting him the way it was breaking you apart?

"Lix…" Your voice came out in a desperate whisper, muffled against his skin.

His arms flexed around you, just for a second.

"Don't-" he sighed, his tone heavy with something you couldn't quite place, "-don't say anything now."

He sounded tired, almost resigned, like he had finally come to terms with something he couldn't fight.

"I want to be selfish for a moment," he said quietly, his words sending a shiver down your spine, "just for a little while."

Your heart thudded against your ribs, too fast, too loud, a painful reminder that this was real. That he was holding you, that he was whispering against your hair, that he was breathing in your scent, and god, this wasn't supposed to be this way.

It wasn't supposed to be this painful.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself not to let more tears fall, not now, not when you were already clinging to him like a lifeline.

You weren't sure how long the two of you stayed like that, tangled in each other's arms, his hands tracing patterns against your back.

The rain continued to fall, a soft patter against the windows. The faint glow of the sky had shifted, the grey giving way to a warm orange hue as the sun dipped below the horizon. You weren't quite sure what happened in that time, the exhaustion finally kept up to you and the feeling in his arms was too good, and soon, sleep was pulling you under.

But just before the darkness took over, Felix spoke again, so quietly you could barely hear it, his breath ghosting against the shell of your ear.

"I missed you, too."

-

The first thing you registered upon waking was warmth.

The steady rise and fall of a chest beneath your cheek lulling you into a state of half-consciousness. For a moment, you forgot where you were, caught in the hazy in-between of dreams and reality. Then, the scent of him filled your lungs, the slow, even heartbeat under your palm grounding you, and it all came rushing back.

You were in his bed.

Your breath hitched as the realization settled. He was still right next to you, you were still curled into him, his arms still loosely draped around you like he had never let go.

Maybe he hadn’t.

You barely dared to move, afraid of shattering whatever fragile moment this was. But the ache in your chest, the longing you had buried so deep, was unbearable. You wanted- no, needed to be closer. Just a little more.

Slowly, carefully, you shifted, nuzzling deeper into the crook of his neck, your nose brushing against his collarbone. His scent surrounded you, overwhelming and intoxicating, a cruel reminder of everything you had missed. Your fingers hesitated for only a second before they moved, ghosting along the hem of his hoodie before slipping underneath, meeting the warmth of his skin.

You could feel how he tensed under you.

It was barely perceptible, just the smallest hitch in his breath, the subtle tightening of his fingers against your waist. If you weren’t pressed against him, you might’ve missed it.

But you didn’t.

You stayed still for a moment, waiting. His breathing remained steady, deceptively even, as if he were still asleep. But you knew better. You knew him. The way his fingers twitched, the way his chest rose just a little too sharply, the way his lips were parted just so... it was all too careful.

Felix was awake.

But now, you couldn't afford to care. Your fingers, still under his hoodie, traced the bare skin of his stomach, featherlight, barely there. The muscles beneath your touch tensed slightly, his breath faltering for half a second before evening out again.

He was pretending.

You swallowed back a laugh, feeling emboldened by the way his body reacted despite his act. Slowly, you tilted your head up, your lips barely grazing the line of his jaw, soft and unintentional, or at least, that’s how you wanted it to seem. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallowed breath, and the smallest noise, something between a sigh and a hum, escaped his throat.

That was all the confirmation you needed.

“Felix,” you murmured against his skin, your voice low and sweet, testing, teasing.

His grip on your waist tightened, a fraction too firm, and this time, he didn’t bother to hide the way he inhaled sharply.

You smiled against his jaw. “Are you asleep?”

Nothing.

No response.

Just silence and the pounding of both your hearts in the space between you.

Your lips ghosted down, soft and unhurried, tracing the line of his throat. You could feel his pulse hammering beneath his skin, fast and uneven, betraying him in a way his stillness couldn’t. Your hand slid higher under his hoodie, your fingertips brushing over the warm planes of his abdomen, teasing along the defined lines.

Then, just as your lips met the sensitive spot where his neck met his shoulder, Felix finally broke.

A sharp inhale, a barely contained shudder, and then—

“Y/N.”

His voice was rough, breathless, like he had been holding it back for too long.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, and he was staring back at you, heavy-lidded, filled with something unreadable yet entirely unmistakable. His lips were parted slightly, his breath uneven, and the way he was looking at you sent a shiver down your spine.

You felt him shift, his hand sliding up your back, his fingers grazing your skin beneath your shirt. His touch was deliberate, careful, like he was grounding himself. Or maybe grounding you.

“You knew,” you accused, voice barely above a whisper.

Felix’s lips curved into something dangerously close to a smirk, but there was something softer beneath it, something hesitant.

“Of course I knew,” he murmured, his thumb stroking absent patterns against your hip. “You’re not subtle.”

Heat curled low in your stomach, and you hated how easily he could turn the tables with just a look, a touch, a word.

His eyes flickered to your lips.

Your breath caught.

Then, so quietly you almost didn’t hear it, Felix whispered, “What are you doing?”

Your fingers curled against his chest, gripping his hoodie as if that would steady you. You didn’t have an answer. Or maybe, you had too many.

But right now, in this moment, none of them mattered.

Because all you could think about was how close he was, how his hand was splayed against your skin, how his lips were right there, and how neither of you seemed willing to pull away.

How easy it would be to just lean in.

Your breath trembled, shaky and desperate, as you leaned in, just enough for your lips to graze his, barely a whisper of a touch. But it was enough. The moment they made contact, a sharp, electric shiver shot down your spine, spreading heat through your entire body. Felix’s breath hitched, and for a fleeting second, he stayed still, holding his breath, as if unsure how to respond.

But the moment you started to pull back, his fingers dug into your hip, pulling you back toward him with a quiet urgency that sent your heart pounding. His lips parted, and the sound that escaped him; a relieved sigh, broke you completely. It was so raw, so needy, and it undid you in ways you hadn’t expected.

You couldn’t stop yourself. Your fingers found their way into his hair again, tugging gently, guiding him closer as you let him pull you in. The soft strands slipped through your fingers, and you could hear him, so close to you, making those quiet, broken, desperate sounds that made everything inside you burn. The heat in your stomach twisted, a knot of need that only seemed to grow tighter as his hand slid higher along your back, pulling you flush against him, pressing you harder into him like he couldn’t get enough.

The second kiss wasn’t tentative. It was hungry. A deep, urgent collision of lips and tongues, slow but with a hunger that left you both breathless. His lips moved against yours, teasing and tasting, savoring. When you sighed into him, something broke, both of you, releasing any last semblance of restraint.

His grip on you tightened, turning desperate, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips parted against yours, moving over you with an intensity that sent a wave of heat crashing over you. You moaned quietly, fingers framing his face, your thumbs brushing over his cheeks before your hands tangled deeper into his hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, to taste him, to lose yourself in him.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, raw and broken, as he exhaled shakily against your lips. His fingers slipped under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending waves of fire over your skin as they traced the curve of your spine, leaving a trail of heated promises. You could feel him trembling beneath you, his body taut, his breath a shallow, uneven rhythm. He was barely holding back.

“Y/N,” he rasped, and the way he said your name; like it was the only tether keeping him grounded, sent a shiver straight through you.

Your breath came in sharp, uneven pulls, your mind spinning as you forced yourself to break away. Your forehead pressed against his, and for a brief moment, you tried to gather your thoughts, but the haze of heat clouded your mind, leaving nothing but need, nothing but him.

What the hell were you doing?

Felix was your best friend. Your sweet, goofy, sunshine of a best friend. But right now, there was nothing sweet or goofy about the way he looked at you.

You were now- somehow, straddling his lap, your fingers tangled in his hair, your lips swollen from his kisses. And Felix- Felix looked absolutely wrecked. His pupils were blown wide, his breath coming in shallow, uneven pants as he stared at you like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming. His hoodie had slipped off one shoulder, exposing smooth skin, flushed with heat, and the sight of him like this; disheveled, desperate, waiting, had your stomach twisting with pure, aching want.

“Fuck.” The curse slipped out before you could stop it, your voice shaking with everything you were feeling. Because you knew.

You weren’t stopping.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and that was it. That was all it took for the last fraying thread of restraint to snap.

You crashed into him, and he met you with just as much desperation.

The kiss was nothing like before. It was raw, all heat and hunger, lips moving together in a mess of gasps and teeth and need. His hands were on you in an instant, gripping your waist, sliding up beneath your shirt, fingers splayed across your back like he needed to feel every inch of your skin against his.

You gasped into his mouth, and the sound made him shudder beneath you, his nails pressing into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. The friction sent a dizzying wave of heat through you, making your stomach tighten, making you crave more, more, more.

Your hands roamed, desperate to touch him, to make him fall apart beneath you. You dragged your nails lightly down his scalp, and the noise that left his lips; low, needy, wrecked, shot straight through you, pooling molten heat between your legs.

“Fuck, Felix,” you breathed against his lips, your voice barely a whisper, but he heard it. You knew he did, because he groaned, his hands gripping your waist harder, grinding up into you without thinking. The feeling of him beneath you, warm and hard and completely lost in you, sent a sharp thrill through your veins.

Your lips parted, and he took the opportunity, his tongue sliding against yours, deep and slow, tasting, savoring. The way he kissed you; like he was drowning in it, in you, had you whimpering into his mouth, had your fingers fisting his hoodie, holding on for dear life.

“Shit-” He pulled back just enough to breathe, but his forehead was still pressed against yours, his lips hovering over yours like he couldn’t bear to be too far away. His voice was hoarse, ruined, his breath warm and heavy against your mouth. “Y/N…”

He couldn't seem to say anything else.

You swallowed, the ache between your legs growing more insistent by the second. Your body was burning, aching for him, and the fact that he was so hard beneath you, grinding up into you without hesitation, only made it worse.

You could feel the way his body tensed, the way his hips moved against yours, slow, experimental. His breaths were coming out in shallow pants, his lips parted, and his expression... he looked completely and utterly wrecked.

Your heart stuttered as it hit you all at once.

This was why you had kept him at a distance, why you had refused to let yourself linger too long in the warmth of his presence, why you had forced yourself to ignore every stolen glance, every lingering touch.

The realization crashed into you, knocking the air from your lungs.

You liked him.

Not just as your best friend. Not just in the way you always told yourself was innocent. No, this was something deeper, something that had been simmering beneath the surface for longer than you cared to admit. And now, with him beneath you, his lips swollen, his breath ragged, his body trembling with want, you couldn’t deny it anymore.

Felix was wrecked. But so were you.

A shaky exhale fell from your lips. You didn't want to think. Not now, not when everything was falling apart. All you wanted, all you could think about, was him.

Felix was unraveling beneath you. And you, God, you weren’t any better.

His hands trembled against your skin, his grip on you tight, unrelenting, like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. His chest rose and fell in uneven, ragged breaths, his swollen lips parted, so aching.

Your pulse thundered in your ears, it felt like your heart was working overtime—what you were feeling in other places wasn't any better. And yet, when you shifted in his lap, when you rolled your hips against him, just to see, just to feel, Felix gasped, his head tipping back, a low moan falling from his lips.

“Y/N-” His voice wavered, his fingers digging into your waist. “Fuck, don’t-”

He cut himself off with a shuddering breath, his body tensing, his eyes screwing shut. You feel him trembling beneath you as you did it again, slower this time, you could feel your clothed core rub against the length of him with an unhurried, intoxicating friction. It caused your swollen clit to drag deliciously against the fabric of both of your clothes, causing you to throw your head back.

His hands flew to your thighs, gripping hard, as if to steady himself. A sound tore from his throat, breathless and wrecked, somewhere between a groan and a whimper, so desperate it made your entire body burn. So deep that it brought a chill up and down each vertebra of your spine.

“Shit-” His fingers flexed against your skin, his breathing erratic. “I can’t- I can’t fucking think when you do that.”

The confession sent a heady rush through you, and made something dark and hungry curl in your stomach. You wanted more. You wanted to hear him fall apart even more. You leaned in, lips ghosting over his jaw, down the column of his throat, feeling the way his pulse pounded beneath your mouth.

A soft whine left his lips, his hips jerking up into yours without warning, and the feeling, the friction, had you moaning softly into his skin. His fingers gripped your thighs, digging into the soft flesh, and the slight sting, the thought of his grip leaving a mark had heat pooling low in your stomach.

A sharp knock at the door sent a jolt through both of you, the sound cutting through the thick haze of heat that had settled in the room.

“Felix?”

Chan’s voice was muffled through the wood, but it was clear, steady, completely unaware of the way you and Felix were currently tangled together, breathless and trembling.

Felix went rigid beneath you, fingers twitching against your thighs before they fell away entirely, like he’d just realized where they were. His wide, dazed eyes snapped up to yours, his expression shifting from desperate hunger to sheer panic in a matter of seconds.

You barely had time to process the loss of his touch before Chan spoke again.

“Have you seen Y/N?” A pause. “She wasn’t in her room when I checked, and I- oh, uh, I brought breakfast for everyone.”

Felix made a choked sound in the back of his throat, somewhere between a cough and a quiet curse.

Your stomach dropped.

Your face burned, your breath still coming in short, uneven pulls as reality came crashing back down on you.

Felix looked just as wrecked, just as breathless, his chest still heaving beneath you, lips swollen and parted like he was still stuck somewhere between the moment you’d shared and the one you were currently panicking through.

You had to move. You had to get up, act normal, open the door, something-

But then you shifted, and the second you felt the hard press of him against you, felt the way your own body was still burning from the friction of before, you realized something else entirely.

You couldn’t leave like this.

Felix must have come to the same realization at the same time, because his hands shot out, gripping your waist, holding you still before you could make it worse. His jaw clenched, his eyes screwing shut as he inhaled sharply through his nose, trying- failing to steady himself.

A quiet curse slipped from his lips.

You swallowed thickly, your heart hammering as Chan’s voice rang out again, a little more hesitant this time.

“Felix?”

Felix’s throat bobbed, his grip on you tightening for a fleeting moment before he forced himself to speak, voice hoarse and uneven.

“Uhm- yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”

There was a pause.

“…Are you okay?”

Felix glanced at you, but you felt like you were on fire.

“Yeah!” He cleared his throat, scrambling for composure, but the breathless edge to his voice betrayed him immediately.

Felix’s grip on your waist tightened, as if desperately begging you not to move.

Chan hummed on the other side of the door, completely oblivious. “Alright, well, hurry up and come eat. I got enough for everyone. And please- please," he paused for a moment, trying to find the right words, "just call Y/N, it's not good for either of you to keep fighting.”

A beat of silence. Then-

The sound of retreating footsteps.

You both exhaled at the same time.

It took a second for the tension to shift, for the weight of what had just happened to sink in.

And then-

Felix groaned, dropping his head back against his pillow, running a hand over his face. “Oh my God.”

You swallowed, staring at him, your entire body still burning from the inside out.

He was still hard beneath you.

And you- well, you weren’t exactly in a better state.

You licked your lips, nerves twisting in your stomach as you tried to force yourself to move, to think, to figure out how you were supposed to get out of this mess without making it even worse.

Felix beat you to it.

“We can’t leave like this.” His voice was low, strained.

You nodded, heat creeping up your neck. “I know.”

A pause.

His throat bobbed. “I-” He hesitated, his fingers twitching against your waist like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I can- figure something out. Just- just give me a second.”

He was trying so hard to be responsible about this, to be rational, to get through this without making it worse.

But your mind was still spinning from before, still drowning in the memory of his body beneath yours, the sounds he had made, the way he had looked at you like he couldn’t think about anything else.

And maybe that was why the next words slipped out before you could stop them.

“I can take care of it.”

Silence.

Felix froze.

Your stomach twisted at the way his breath hitched, at the way his fingers tightened against your skin like he wasn’t sure he had heard you correctly.

His eyes found yours, searching, disbelieving.

“…What?”

You swallowed, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin. “Just- just let me, please.”

Something flickered across his expression, something hesitant and utterly wrecked. You could see the thoughts racing through his mind, the questions, the uncertainty, the sheer disbelief at what you had just suggested.

But when he spoke, his voice was quieter this time, more vulnerable.

“But..." he swallowed, his eyes searching your face, "you won’t run away after?”

You paused, something in his voice making your chest ache.

How could he think you would do that? After everything?

But then again, hadn't you pushed him away first? Didn't he have every right to think something like that from you?

Guilt simmered in your chest, you couldn't run this time.

"No, I won’t run," you said softly.

Felix held your gaze, and for a brief moment, it seemed like he was trying to figure out if you meant it.

"J- Just this once... then..?" His voice wavered, unsure, hesitant, but you could tell how much he wanted this. How much he had been waiting for this.

Just this once?

You don't know why, but even though you've heard those words before, this time they left a sharp sting in your chest.

You couldn't tell if it was guilt or not. Maybe it was the idea that he just saw this as a one-time thing. Or I guess, two-time thing now.

You shook the thoughts away, letting out a deep breath as you slowly got off of him, moving into a spot in between his legs and crouching down, and his head raises at the sudden change in position.

You don't have much experience when it comes to giving handjobs, so you were just going to follow what he did last time with the addition of a few things that you researched yourself. You had already seen him do it up close, the way his fingers tightened around the base of his shaft before sliding upwards in a slow movement. He had taken his time with himself, drawing it out and keeping it steady, the movements practiced and sure.

His breathing grew a little more ragged when he realized where this was heading. He started to sit up, his expression wary, a protest rising to his lips. But the moment his hand dropped to cover himself, your fingers found his. You could feel them twitching.

He fell still.

Your chest tightened.

His lips parted, a small gasp escaping, eyes fluttering closed as you let your hand hesitantly outline the trace of his length, replacing his hand. Your hand slid upwards, mimicking what his other hand did.

You didn't look up, didn't dare meet his eyes. But you could feel the weight of his gaze.

It's the same, yet different. This time you are touching him, it's you making him feel that way, the soft gasps falling from his lips, the way he's biting back a moan, it's because of you. You try to copy the things you saw him do, tightening your grip just enough and letting the pressure slide slowly upwards. Your heart skips at the sound of Felix's breath stuttering, the way his muscles tense, the way his fingers dig into his thighs, holding on, struggling not to react too much.

His lips were parted, his breaths coming in shallow, uneven pulls as your hand moved against his clothed length in an unhurried, almost lazy pace. You kept your eyes down, unable to bear seeing what was in his eyes. Unable to bear seeing the look you'd put on his face.

Felix wasn't unaffected either. You could feel the tension in his muscles, feel the way his thighs twitched when you stroked his cock through his pants, the way he gasped and whimpered softly. You were suddenly very aware of just how close you were, your fingers moving beneath him, brushing his own every few moments as he moved. The air in the room had changed, shifted.

You were acutely aware of every sound, every hitch of breath, every shaky exhale, of the heat coming from his skin and the scent of his skin so close, and it was like every one of your senses had sharpened.

"Uhm..." you hestitate, wondering how to ask without embarrassing yourself too much, "can- can I?" You asked shyly, gesturing to his pants and hoping he'd get the idea, and when he doesn't respond for a while you looked up to see his face filled with confusion.

You exhaled, feeling your cheeks burn as you finally forced yourself to meet his eyes, trying not to stare too long at his swollen lips, his mussed hair, at how utterly disheveled he looked, and tried to make your voice more clear, "can I touch you... like- without... the pants?"

His throat bobbed, his Adam's apple dipping before his lips parted to say something, but it took him a while before he finally managed to let out a choked sound. "O- Oh-" his voice faltered, cracking under pressure. He took in a shuddering breath, nodding hesitantly. "Y- Yeah- Yeah, okay."

You swallowed, shifting in your spot between his legs as your hands went down to tug at his waistband, letting your knuckles brush against his skin as you pulled his pants lower, feeling a flutter of heat low in your stomach.

He was watching you with half-lidded eyes, his gaze dark and unreadable. His breath was coming in short, uneven pulls as he leaned back, bracing himself against his hands. You couldn't help but glance at his chest, watching it rise and fall with every unsteady breath. He looked... vulnerable, almost soft in the dim light of his bedroom, like this, in a way he never usually did.

His jaw was still clenched tight, and he swallowed, the bobbing motion of his throat drawing your eye for a moment before you dragged your gaze back down.

Your fingers trailed along his waist, feeling his muscles tense under your touch as you finally pulled his pants down enough, freeing him from the restraints of his clothes.

He was aching, and hard, the tip swollen and pink. Your stomach tightened at the sight of him, at the memory of last time and everything you felt then.

You started slow, like he did. Letting your palm glide smoothly over his tip, his hips stuttering into the air at the contact, letting out a broken noise, and when you didn't move your hand any further, he let out a breath. His body was wound up like a coil, every muscle taut and rigid, waiting for your next move.

Your grip tightened, stroking upwards in a slow movement that drew a low groan from deep within his throat. He gasped, his chest heaving, his breaths ragged and uneven.

"God- fuck, you-" he let out another strangled moan, his voice strained and raw.

His hips rocked into the air, thrusting up to meet your palm, his movements needy and desperate. The sound of him panting beneath you was sending shivers down your spine, sending heat coursing through you like electricity.

He was reacting way more than last time, every touch, every brush of your skin against his sending him into a spiral of pleasure. It was intoxicating, watching him lose himself under your hands, hearing him gasp and whine, his moans and groans like music to your ears, knowing you're the one doing this to him, to make him lose control, to fall apart at your fingertips, knowing how much power you had over him at that moment.

The knowledge left you lightheaded, dizzy with a rush of heady power as you sped up your hand just slightly. He was completely and utterly lost, his hands gripping the bed sheets tightly, his fingers twisting in the sheets as he struggled to breathe, to hold himself together. You felt the tension in his thighs, heard the sharp hiss that escaped through clenched teeth, felt the tremors running through him.

You felt your clit pulse, the sore feeling causing you to squeeze your thighs together. It felt so good. You could feel the wetness pooling between your thighs, soaking your underwear.

It wasn't long before he was teetering on the edge, his head thrown back against his pillow, eyes screwed shut, his chest heaving as he tried to hold himself together.

"Felix..?" you whispered, your voice trembling with desire, the sound of your name falling from his lips only serving to make you throb harder, the feeling between your thighs almost too much to handle.

"Yes-" his voice was raw and rough, broken as it was forced from his throat, a groan cutting through the silence, a desperate whimper escaping him as he finally let himself go. "Yes, I'm so fucking close-"

It didn't take long before he was shaking apart beneath your touch, a shuddering moan leaving his lips as his back arched, his hips bucking up into the air. He came undone with your name on his lips, his fingers twisting in the bed sheets. The way he sounded as he came was the most beautiful thing you've ever heard. His voice was hoarse and shaky as he whispered your name like a prayer, as he trembled and shook and let himself unravel under your touch.

He fell apart and came undone, spilling himself on his own stomach with your name on his lips. The sight made something warm and fuzzy pool in the pit of your stomach, something you'd never felt before, something you'd never let yourself feel. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, from the way he looked in that moment. It was so intense, so intimate. It felt so real and raw, and it hit you in a way you never expected it to.

Your gaze drifted lower, your heart stuttering at the sight of his mess, his stomach painted with white. You were transfixed by the sight, unable to stop staring even as he shuddered beneath you, gasping and trembling as the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. He collapsed back on the bed with a sigh, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His hair was plastered against his forehead, his face flushed and sweaty, but he looked so extremely hot nonetheless. His lips were swollen and parted as he stared at you with half-lidded eyes, completely blown from arousal, from how good you'd made him feel.

The sight had you aching for release. You bit back a groan as your cunt throbbed.

He watched you with glazed eyes as you leaned over and grabbed the towel you'd seen on the ground. You pressed it gently against his stomach to wipe him.

It's like he didn't care if you'd seen it or not, he was completely undone, boneless, his entire body still buzzing, still high from his release. He let out a soft hum when he felt you touch his stomach. He was so warm. He looked like a cat who got what it wanted.

Felix let out a content sigh as you wiped him down, his body loose and pliant beneath your touch. His head was still tilted back against the pillow, eyes heavy-lidded and glassy, but when you shifted to move away, he blinked up at you, something soft and almost hesitant in his gaze.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I-” He swallowed, his fingers twitching where they rested by his sides. “I can help you, too.”

Your breath caught.

The air between you shifted again, his offer sending a rush of heat through you, settling low in your stomach. The way he looked at you, all earnest and drowsy and still so, so beautiful- it had you aching all over again.

"But-"

You hesitated, panic creeping in around the edges of your mind. It wasn’t that you didn’t want it. You did. But now that the haze was clearing, now that the heat of the moment was cooling just slightly, reality started creeping back in.

Too much time had passed.

You couldn’t still be in here when breakfast had already been announced.

You forced yourself to swallow down the nervous lump in your throat, shaking your head as you pulled away. “No, it’s fine. We should-” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as normal as possible. “We should clean up. Breakfast is waiting.”

Felix stilled for a second, his expression flickering- hurt, then understanding, then something else entirely.

He didn’t argue.

But you saw it- the way his face fell slightly, the way guilt settled in his features. Like he thought he’d done something wrong.

You reached out, squeezing his wrist briefly.

“It’s okay,” you murmured.

He nodded, but you could tell he wasn’t fully convinced.

Still, he got up, following your lead as you both cleaned yourselves up. You made sure to go first, slipping out of his room quickly so it wouldn’t look suspicious.

The moment you stepped into the dining area, a chorus of voices erupted around you.

“Oh my God, she lives.”

“Finally out of your room, huh?”

“You good? You were MIA for a while.”

You barely had time to sit down before a hand smacked your back playfully. Jisung grinned at you from across the table, a knowing glint in his eyes. “We were just about to plan a funeral for you, what happened?”

You swallowed thickly, your face burning. “I was sick,” you blurted out, the first excuse that popped into your head.

Jisung’s brows shot up. “Sick?”

Hyunjin snorted. “What, like love sick?”

Your stomach flipped, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes. “No, dumbass. Just… sick.”

Jisung hummed, unconvinced, but he let it go in favor of stuffing his mouth full of food.

The table returned to its usual chaotic energy, playful banter bouncing back and forth between the members. You joined in where you could, laughing when Changbin and Minho bickered over the last pancake, Chan stepping in, telling them they had to leave it for Felix. You felt a little lighter now that the focus had shifted off of you.

But then, you felt him before you saw him.

Felix.

Emerging from his room, freshly cleaned up, hair still slightly damp, eyes sweeping the room before they landed on you.

Your stomach clenched, your breath catching in your throat.

He looked normal. He looked composed. Like nothing had happened.

But the second his gaze met yours, you knew.

You clenched your thighs together instinctively, forcing yourself to look away, shoving a spoonful of food into your mouth as a distraction.

Felix sat down across from you, grabbing a plate, acting as if everything was normal.

But you could feel it.

The tension still lingered, simmering beneath the surface, waiting.

And you had no idea how long you could keep pretending it wasn’t there.

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