#supernovanetwork

The art studio smells like paint, the familiar scent swirling in the air as you dip your brush into a swirl of color. The canvas in front of you is slowly taking shape, the blend of pastel blues and soft pinks beginning to resemble the hazy skyline of a dreamscape you’ve been envisioning for weeks. You’ve lost track of how many hours you’ve spent on it, layering colors, fine-tuning the details, but it doesn’t matter. You’ve always loved getting lost in your work.

Across the room, Hyunjin sits at his usual spot by the window, sketchbook propped on his knee as he sketches something you can’t quite see from where you stand. It’s comfortable, familiar, the two of you working in companionable silence. Every now and then, you glance up to find him already looking at you, eyes soft and focused, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of the moment.

You’ve been friends for what feels like forever, bonded over late nights in this very studio, sharing music while you worked side by side.

It’s...... easy with him, always has been.

Hyunjin is the kind of person who understands you without you needing to say anything. He knows your moods, can read the subtlest change in your expression, and you’ve always been able to share everything with him — your art, your frustrations, your dreams. This studio was your place. You’d both stay long after everyone else left, the hum of creativity and quiet conversation filling the space between you.

“What do you think?” you ask, turning your canvas toward him. His opinion has always mattered to you. Hyunjin’s eye for detail is sharp, but more than that, you trust him to be honest.

He looks up, his gaze landing on the canvas. A small smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his eyes softening as he takes it in. “It’s beautiful,” he says, voice low, almost reverent. “There’s something... ethereal about it. It feels like a memory.”

Your heart flutters at his words, the compliment striking deeper than it should. “That’s what I was going for,” you say, stepping back to look at your painting again.

Hyunjin nods, his gaze flickering back to the painting. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just studies it with that intense focus he always has when he’s taking something in. Then, quietly, he says, “You always manage to put so much feeling into your work. It’s one of the things I... admire about you.”

There’s a softness in his voice that makes your heart skip, something unspoken in the way he says those last words. He doesn’t look at you when he says it, his eyes still fixed on the canvas, but there’s an underlying tenderness that you can’t quite ignore.

You open your mouth to respond, to say something — anything — but the air feels thick with something you can’t name, and before you can find the right words, the door to the studio swings open.

Han walks into the studio, a burst of energy and excitement trailing in his wake. He’s carrying a bag of takeout, the aroma of food filling the air as he enters. His face is lit up with a wide, enthusiastic grin, his eyes sparkling with genuine excitement.

“Hey, everyone!” Han’s cheerful voice fills the studio as he strides in with takeout. “Thought you might be hungry.”

You turn to greet him, your mood lifting at the sight of his familiar, easygoing smile. Han sets the bags of food on the table with a casual grace. “I brought some takeout. Figured you two could use a break.”

“Thanks, Han,” you say, trying to keep the atmosphere light. You catch Hyunjin’s reaction from the corner of your eye. His smile tightens just a fraction, and he shifts his gaze back to his sketchbook, an unreadable expression settling on his face.

“Perfect timing,” Hyunjin says, his voice polite but lacking its usual warmth. “We could use a break.”

Han begins unpacking the food, his eyes bright as he glances at your painting. “Wow, Y/N, that’s incredible,” he says with genuine admiration. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”

You smile at the praise, feeling a warm flutter at Han’s enthusiasm. “Thanks, Han. I’ve been working on it for a while.”

As Han continues to unpack the food, you notice Hyunjin’s shoulders are tense, his focus remaining on his sketchbook. There’s a subtle shift in the air, a change you can’t quite place but that feels almost tangible.

“Mind if I join in?” Han asks, setting up a plate of food for you and Hyunjin. His casual tone and easy smile make it clear he’s just as comfortable here as he is anywhere else.

“Of course,” you reply, “It’s good to have you here.”

Hyunjin finally looks up, his gaze fleetingly meeting yours before he returns to his sketchbook. “Yeah, it’s nice to have a break,” he says, his tone once again polite but detached.

As you all sit down to eat, you find yourself drawn into Han’s stories and jokes, your laughter mingling with his. It’s clear that you’re enjoying his company, and you can’t help but notice how his presence brings a different kind of energy to the studio.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, remains subdued. He joins in the conversation, but his responses are brief, and his attention seems.....

....divided.

The studio hums with the soft sounds of conversation and the clinking of utensils as Han continues to engage with you and Hyunjin over lunch. His attention is focused on you, and you can’t miss the playful glint in his eyes.

Lately, Han has been visiting the studio more frequently. At first, it was just a casual drop-in here and there, but recently, he’s been making it a regular thing. The three of you have been spending a lot of time together, discussing art, sharing ideas, and even grabbing lunch like today. His presence has added a new dynamic to your studio time, and you can’t deny that it’s been refreshing.

When Han started coming around more, it felt like a natural extension of your routine. He’d drop by with coffee or lunch, sometimes bringing along his own sketches to work on. You found some joy in his company , and it was easy to get lost in conversation with him. His enthusiasm for art matched yours, and his friendly, easygoing nature made him a great addition to your creative space.

The more Han visited, the more you two grew close. You started to look forward to his presence, finding comfort and inspiration in his company. You’d often stay late into the evening, chatting about everything from art to life.

But with Han’s increased presence, something shifted. You noticed how your interactions with Hyunjin became less frequent. Where you used to work side by side, sharing thoughts and critiques, you now found yourself pulled into conversations with Han. 

“So, Y/N,” Han starts, leaning slightly closer with a teasing smile. “How do you manage to make everything look so effortless? I’ve seen your work, and I know it’s anything but.”

You laugh, a bit flustered by his directness. “It’s a lot of practice and maybe a bit of luck,” you reply, trying to keep things light.

Han grins, his gaze lingering on you. He gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “I’d say it’s definitely more than luck. I’ve seen your paintings turn into something incredible. Maybe you’ve got a secret.”

You feel your cheeks warm at his touch and compliment. “Maybe I do,” you say, matching his playful tone. “But I’m not sure I’m ready to share it just yet.”

Han chuckles softly and reaches over to hand you a paintbrush, his fingers brushing against yours in the process. “Well, if you ever decide to let me in on that secret, I’d be more than happy to help you with it.” He gets a little closer, his arm grazing yours as he leans in. “You know,” he says, leaning in a little closer, “I was thinking... maybe we should test that theory. How about we paint something together one day? I’ve got some ideas and I think it could be a lot of fun.”

“That sounds interesting. What kind of ideas do you have in mind?” you reply.

Just as he starts to respond, Hyunjin, who has been quietly watching, stands up abruptly. His voice, though calm, carries an unmistakable edge. “It’s getting late,” he says, his gaze flickering between you and Han. “I think it’s time to wrap things up for today. Y/N, you should probably head home too.”

Han’s expression shifts from playful to slightly confused. “Already? I was just about to ask Y/N to—”

Hyunjin cuts him off with a firm yet polite tone. “I’m sorry, Han, but we’ve all had a long day. We can catch up on the details another time. Y/N, let’s get going.”

You glance at Han, his eyes reflecting a mix of disappointment and surprise, before turning to Hyunjin. “Yeah, I guess it is getting late,” you agree, though you can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as you stand up.

Han’s disappointment is evident as he offers you a small, wistful smile. “Alright, Y/N. We’ll talk about it soon. Have a good night.” His words are warm, but there’s a hint of frustration in his eyes as he gathers his things.

As Han exits the studio, you turn to find Hyunjin already heading towards the door, his expression a mix of frustration and anger. He’s usually so composed, but there’s something in his demeanor tonight that feels sharp and unsettled.

“Hyunjin, wait up,” you call, catching up to him as he moves toward the entrance. The studio is now quiet, the clinking of utensils and hum of conversation replaced by an uneasy silence.

Hyunjin stops and turns to face you, his gaze intense. “Y/N, I didn’t mean to rush you, but..." He pauses, his voice faltering slightly as he searches for the right words.

“Actually, never mind,” he says abruptly, his tone shifting to a forced calm. “Have a good night, Y/N.”

He begins to walk toward the door, but you reach out, your voice trembling slightly. “But, Hyunjin? What’s wrong?”

Hyunjin stops, his back to you, and for a moment, you can see the conflict warring within him. He turns his head slightly, but the emotion in his eyes is hard to decipher.

"You've...you’ve been spending a lot of time with Han lately.”

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “He’s been coming by the studio more often. We’ve just been working on some ideas together.”

Hyunjin’s jaw tightens, his frustration evident. “I’ve noticed. It’s just—” He stops himself, running a hand through his hair. “Never mind. It’s none of my business who you spend your time with.”

Hyunjin’s frustration is palpable as he crosses his arms, his gaze fixed on the floor. The usually calm and collected friend is now visibly shaken, and the intensity in his voice is unmistakable.

“Hyunjin, what's wrong?” you ask, concern evident in your voice.

Hyunjin looks up, his expression hardening. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, his voice clipped. “I’ll stop interrupting your time with Han.”

Before you can react, he turns away from you, heading towards the door. The sudden shift in his demeanor makes your heart ache, and you can’t just let him leave like this.

“No, wait!” you call out, rushing to catch up with him. “Hyunjin, please, don’t go. We need to talk about this.”

Hyunjin pauses but doesn’t turn around. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he replies, his tone flat. “I just... need some time alone. It’s better this way.”

You reach out, placing a hand gently on his arm. “Hyunjin, don’t shut me out. We’ve always been able to talk through things. I don’t want to lose our friendship over this.”

Hyunjin stiffens under your touch and then turns to face you, his eyes blazing with an emotion you hadn’t expected. The usually composed and easygoing Hyunjin is now a whirlwind of frustration and jealousy, his features tense and his jaw set tight. The raw intensity in his gaze is something you’ve never seen before — a mix of hurt and anger that makes your heart ache.

You’re taken aback by his intensity. “Han’s just been trying to be friendly and lighten the mood. I didn’t think it was anything more than him wanting to hang out and have a good time.”

“Are you seriously that oblivious?” he snaps, his voice cracking with the weight of his emotions. “I’ve been sitting here, watching him flirt with you, and all you seem to notice is how charming he is.”

Hyunjin’s voice trembles with frustration. “It’s not just about him being friendly! It’s about watching you with someone else, someone who’s clearly interested in you. And while he’s making moves, I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend it doesn’t bother me?”

You feel a pang of guilt, your own emotions a whirlwind of confusion and concern. “Hyunjin, I—”

“Do you really not get it?” he interrupts, his tone harsh and edged. “I’m in love with you, Y/N. I’ve been hiding it for so long, thinking maybe it would go away or that it didn’t matter because we’re friends. But seeing you with Han, seeing how easily he gets to be close to you, it’s like... it’s tearing me apart.”

He stands there, struggling to keep his composure, his breath coming in uneven gasps.

“I... I didn’t know,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Hyunjin, I never imagined you could feel this way. I thought... I always thought you’d see me as just a friend, nothing more. Why would you ever think that—”

Hyunjin interrupts, his voice strained. “Because you are special to me. I’ve been falling for you for so long, and I’ve been trying to ignore it, hoping it would go away. I’m sorry if I’ve been selfish, but it’s killing me to see you with him when all I want is to be close to you.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath as if bracing himself. “But I’ll give you space since it’s clear the feelings aren’t the same. I’m sorry for bringing this on you.” His voice is barely above a whisper, filled with regret and resignation.

Before you can find the right words to respond, before you can process the whirlwind of emotions, Hyunjin turns abruptly and walks toward the door. His steps are heavy, each one echoing the weight of his confession.

“Hyunjin, wait!” you call out, but he doesn’t turn back. The door closes softly behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet studio, your heart pounding.

You stand there, stunned and at a loss, the room feeling colder and emptier than before. Your heart feels like it’s been shattered. Your vision blurs with tears, and you try to hold them back, but they come uncontrollably. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the sobs that escape.

You’ve been in love with him for as long as you can remember, but you never dared to hope he could feel the same way.Standing there, tears streaming down your face, you clutch the edges of the doorframe, trying to ground yourself.

You take a shaky breath, desperately trying to compose yourself. With trembling hands, you wipe at your tears with the sleeve of your shirt, attempting to pull yourself together.

Summoning all the strength you have left, you push open the door and step out into the dimly lit hallway. The cool air hits your tear-streaked face, but it does little to soothe the turmoil you.

As you open the door, you come face-to-face with Hyunjin, who is standing right outside, as if he was about to come back in. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees you crying, and his expression shifts from pained resignation to a mix of shock and vulnerability.

You both stand there for a moment, the silence thick with unspoken words and raw emotion. Hyunjin's eyes are red-rimmed, and he looks as though he's been caught in a moment of hesitation, his own tears glistening in his eyes.

Hyunjin’s gaze drops, and he looks away, clearly struggling with his emotions. “I was just—” he starts, but his voice falters, and he wipes at his eyes quickly, as if trying to regain his composure.

As you both stand there, Hyunjin's gaze slowly meets yours. There’s a mix of desperation and hope in his eyes, as if he’s grappling with the urge to fix what’s been broken.

His expression softens, and with a trembling breath, he takes a step closer to you. The space between you seems to shrink as he closes the distance, his movements slow and deliberate.

Without a word, Hyunjin gently places his hands on your cheeks, his touch tender and warm. His eyes search yours for a moment longer, as if asking for permission. Then, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both soft and filled with emotion.

The kiss is hesitant at first, but it deepens as he pulls you closer, his lips moving against yours with a sense of longing and desperation. You can feel the trembling in his hands

As Hyunjin’s kiss deepens, it feels as though time stands still, the world outside the studio fading away. The intensity of the moment pushes you both backward, and with each tender touch of his lips, you find yourselves moving slowly but inevitably back into the studio, the door closing shut behind him.

The kiss continues, now more urgent and passionate, as if he’s trying to pour all the words he can’t express into this one moment.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both stand there, breathless and slightly disheveled, still close together. Hyunjin’s gaze is tender, and he looks at you with a mixture of relief and hope.

"Why me? I don’t get it” you say.

Hyunjin’s smile widens, and he gently wipes away a tear from your cheek. “Why you? Because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted—kind, talented, and absolutely incredible.Because you’re like your art—full of beauty and emotion. Every piece you create reveals a part of you, and I’ve been captivated by that. I’ve been waiting for the right moment to show you just how much you mean to me.”

He kisses you again, this time more desparetly, as if he needs to breathe and your his oxygen.

You can feel his hand slide down your body and he takes your hand in his. You feel your own heart skip a beat, and you can't help but smile as you continue to kiss, as he pushes you back allowing you to sit up on one of the tables in the studio. He takes the opportunity to put his body between your legs. 

His tongue explores your mouth, and you can’t help but respond, your own tongue dueling with his.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body. Your hands reach up to touch his chest, feeling the firm muscles underneath your fingertips, and Hyunjin lets out a low groan, his eyes darkening with desire.

“Fuck, I want you,” he growls, his hand gripping your hip tightly.

You can feel his erection pressing against you, and you moan softly, your own desire building up inside of you.     

You break the kiss, gasping for breath. Hyunjin’s lips trail down your neck, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. You arch your back, moaning as his hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts and pinching your nipples through the fabric of your shirt.

“Hyunjin, please,” you beg, your hands tugging at his shirt.He obliges, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. You can’t help but stare at his muscular chest, your fingers tracing the lines of his abs. 

He smiles, looking at you, as if asking for permission with his eyes. You nod and his hands reach towards you to unbutton your shirt. You undo your bra on your own, and together both items fall to the ground. You blush as he stares at you.    

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his hands cupping your breasts and squeezing gently.

You moan, your nipples hardening under his touch. You can feel your wetness soaking through your panties, and you grind your hips against Hyunjin’s. He groans, both hands now gripping your hips tighter.

Hyunjin leans down, taking one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking gently. You try to stifle your moan, your hands gripping his hair as he switches to the other nipple, biting down gently. His lips trail back up to your neck as his hands begin to slide down the sides of your body.

His fingers find their way to your panties.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he growls, his fingers tracing the lines of your panties.

You moan, your hips bucking as his fingers slip under your panties and into your wetness. He strokes your clit, and you cry out, your orgasm building up inside of you. Hyunjin continues to stroke you, his fingers moving faster and faster. His fingers are long and slender, and you can feel them stroking you from the inside.

"Oh g-god, Hyunjin" you say, as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"Yeah? Does that feel good baby?" Hearing him call you "baby" sends a flutter through your chest, a warmth spreading in the pit of your stomach. It’s not just the word — it’s the way he says it, soft and full of affection, like it belongs only to you. You’ve heard the word before, but from his lips, it feels different — intimate, tender, and so undeniably right.

Your legs begin to tremble as your orgasm builds. Hyunjin kisses you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as his fingers continue to move inside you.

You break the kiss, gasping for breath. "d-don't stop" you whine. Hyunjin continues to kiss you, swallowing your cries as his pace speeds up. You grab onto Hyunjin's shoulders as you begin to ride his fingers, your body trembling with pleasure. "Fuck, I'm going to cum," you cry, as your orgasm approaches.

"Not yet," he whispers and you feel as he pulls his fingers out of you. "I want your cum on my cock."

You blush, as his hands reach down to unbutton his pants. He pushes his pants and boxers down in one swift motion. His erection springs free, and you can’t help but stare at it.

 “Do you want this?” he asks, his hand wrapping around his cock and stroking it slowly.

    You nod, your hand reaching out to touch him. Hyunjin groans, his hips thrusting forward as your hand wraps around his cock. You stroke him slowly, matching his rhythm. You pressed your thumb down onto his dripping red tip, and you could hear him whine.

   “Fuck, that feels good,” he says as he slowly spread open your legs. He pushes you back a little to line his tip up to your entrance.

"You ready for me?" he asks, teasingly.

"Please," you reply, desperately.

He pushes in, his cock stretching you open as he enters you. You moan, your hands gripping his arms as he begins to move, thrusting slowly at first.

"Please, Hyunjin, please." You begged, as your eyes closed from the pleasure.

"God, you're so tight," he groans, his hands gripping your hips, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, back out, and back in again.

and he feels SO good.

And then he stops..... while still inside you.

Confused, you open your eyes to see a frozen Hyunjin. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

“I-I...." he stutters. Hyunjin’s face pales as his eyes dart nervously to the canvas behind you. "I spilled paint,” he says, gesturing to the canvas behind you. He hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck, visibly distressed. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I know you worked so hard on it, and I just... ruined it.” His voice breaks slightly, and he looks away, unable to meet your gaze.

You look at the canvas, your heart sinking a little. The once vibrant colors you’d carefully layered over days of meticulous work are now smeared and distorted by splashes of dark paint. What was supposed to be a serene landscape, full of soft pastels and warm hues, is now marred by streaks of harsh, misplaced colors running down the surface.

"It was perfect, and I ruined it," he whispers, his voice thick with regret. "I know how much this meant to you."

Hyunjin’s hand is covered in streaks of dark paint from knocking over the paint, and you can see how the paint has seeped into the creases of his hands, clinging to him like guilt.

He stares at his hand, then back at the ruined painting, shaking his head. "I should’ve been more careful," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "Look at this... I can't believe I did this to your work."

He looks up, shocked. "Y/N..."

"Hyunjin," you say. "It's okay. It's just paint."

"But..." he starts.

You cut him off with a kiss. "I'd rather have you than the painting," you whisper. "Besides I think your art is prettier than mine."

"You...you do?"

"Mmhm," You say nodding your head."Besides....I always said I wanted you to paint me one day..."

" You want me to paint you?"

You answer his question by moving his paint coated hands together and placing them both on your chest, leaving his paint handprints right on you.

You've never done anything like this before, but the idea of being so intimate with Hyunjin is incredibly arousing.

   You gasp at the sensation, your body trembling with desire. Hyunjin's touch is electric, and you can't help but moan as he continues to explore your body with his fingers. He moves one of his hands and traces a finger over your collarbone, leaving a trail of paint in its wake.

You feel as he begins to thrust into you again.

Your eyes close from the pleasure, and you moan as his cock fills you completely.

"Oh fuck," you say, your voice cracking. You feel Hyunjin's pace quicken as his cock continues to pound into you. His hands roam, allowing more paint to make its way onto your body. You place your hands into an open yellow and purple paint nearby and place your hands on his chest, covering him with paint as well.

"Oh fuck," Hyunjin growls, his voice hoarse with lust. He grabs you by the hips, and lifts you off the table.

"Wrap your legs around me," he says.

You do as he asks, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him closer. His cock is still buried deep inside you, and the new angle sends shivers of pleasure through your body.

"That's it," he says, his voice husky. "Hold on tight."

He begins to move again, his pace quickening as he pounds into you, his cock hitting just the right spot inside you.

You cling to him, your arms wrapped around his neck and your face buried in his shoulder. You can't help but cry out as your orgasm approaches.

"Oh god, Hyunjin," you cry, your body trembling. "I'm gonna come."

"Yeah?" he says. "Me too."

His thrusts become faster, harder, as he pounds into you. Your cries echo in the room, and you feel him throb inside you.

"Come for me, Y/N," he growls.

"Oh god, Hyunjin," you cry, as your orgasm hits, your nails digging into his shoulders. He continues to thrust into you, drawing out your pleasure. You cling to him, your body shaking as the waves of pleasure wash over you.

"Fuck," Hyunjin groans, as he comes, his cock pulsing inside you, completing the masterpiece by painting your walls.

    When you finally come down from your orgasm, you look down at Hyunjin and see that he's covered in paint. His face, his hair, and even his clothes are covered in a rainbow of colors.

    You can't help but laugh at the sight, and Hyunjin joins in your laughter.

"You look beautiful," he says with a soft smile, his eyes tracing your features. "Like a work of art. Something I'd spend hours admiring, and still, it wouldn't be enough." He places you back down on the table and pulls you into a tight embrace, and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours.

    The two of you stay there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, before you finally break away.

    "We should.... clean up," you say, gesturing to the paint that's covering both of your bodies.

    Hyunjin nods in agreement, but neither of you move.

Instead, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"We'll get cleaned up soon," he says, his voice soft and tender.

"Right now, I just want to hold you."

You smile, a wave of happiness washing over you. "I'd like that," you say, nuzzling against his chest.

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Chan

His hand was delicately around your waist, pulling you close, and your hand was cupped, laid delicately on his.

He mouthed a "ready" before the music started and then gently guided you through every twirl and step of the way.

His comforting and confident gaze observed you, gentle.

He was firm but delicate and surprisingly capable.

However, this was not an effortless skill of his.

What he'd never confess, was that he had spent nights practicing it by himself or with a more than unwilling Jeongin in order to help you and lead you through the dances perfectly.

Lee Know

"Always look your dame in the eyes, especially when bowing!" The teacher shouted.

"That's because neckline can be very exposing and you, as gentlemen, should never have wandering eyes... going down"

Minho smirked and said "I'll watch you in the eyes when I bow but if you're twirling, I will be starting at my property".

"Don't call my butt your property!" You're protested, positioning yourself as usual.

Minho took your right hand in his left and the other one, that was supposed to be on your waist, fell "accidentally" on your ass.

As he gave a squeeze, before pulling it up after a glare from the teacher, he replied: "Why not?"

Changbin

Changbin was intimidated, to say the least.

As he stepped in the room, he found himself surrounded by tall guys all around him and he got self conscious.

It didn't take long, though, for him to get comfortable as the other guys kept stumbling over their own feet and roughly pulling their dames along.

Changbin, kn the other hand, cradled you sweetly, mindful of his strength.

Being inn his arms... it felt like home.

Hyunjin

Hyunjin thought it was going to be romantic.

It was not

Three hours if repeating the same sequence over and over again for hundreds of time was driving him crazy.

It was supposed to be relaxed and precise, with a neutral expression on your face or a hint of a smile.

He hated that.

It felt restricting.

As you threw your heels away and he jumped on the bed with what little energy he had left, he swore to never try that again.

Han

He was nervous.

He agreed to take this on because he thought it would be easy, after all he danced all the time.

How hard could it be?

Apparently, very hard.

At all turns, he kept getting confused or entangled with you, as you two struggled to understand what to do.

As you two fell while practicing in your room, limbs all entangled, you laughed at yourselves and though your dancing was far from perfect, you wouldn't change it for anything in this world.

Felix

As he held you close, your lips inches away from his, he smiled.

"Are you enjoying this?" He uttered, before being silenced by the dance teacher.

A smile was all the confirmation he needed.

And you two waltzed away.

His deep voice resonated in your ear as he whispered the counts to you, to make sure you both followed the rhythm perfectly.

His eyes met yours, filled with adoration and the intimacy of it all made you flush.

Now you truly understood how Disney princesses must have felt.

Seungmin

Seungmin was boiling.

"I swear if he says 'collectivity' once more, I will strangle him" was one of his many threats towards your innocent dance teacher, who was trying to get all couples up to date and in sync.

As you repeated for what felt the hundredth time the same dull sequence, Seungmin started scoffing at other people's dancing between one turn and the other.

"We're clearly the best couple here. Might as well make us the centerpiece, right?"

I.N

It was supposed to be simple.

Step forward, then back and turn.

As easy as it could be.

He was lost observing your focused face that he messed up the turn and bumped into you.

He reddened and apologised profusely, bowing down.

"Sorry, sorry" he said.

"It's okay" you answered, as you twirled around.

Every bump or accidental touch made Jeongin's heart race.

It was perfect, to put it lightly. There was still a whole month until Christmas was upon you, Thanksgiving barely passed, and her house already looked stunning. Strings of multi-colored lights wove around the trunks of the trees in the yard, and perfectly criss-crossed over Katie Lee’s immaculately trimmed hedges. Shining aluminum tinsel outlined those smudgeless portrait windows, reflecting the twinkling lights that were also strung along the sleek roof. Rows of little silver stars penned in the pristine concrete driveway. You’d never seen a house done up like hers. The last straw was the damn Christmas tree. Katie Lee hired a couple local boys to deliver her a picture perfect Douglas Fir from only-god-knows-where, and you steamed in your kitchen while you watched her hang pretty glass baubles and gilded tinsel all over it. The damn shrub made her house look like it was plucked straight out of a Redbook advertisement.

It was at that moment the garage creaked open, right when you considered calming down. Chris was home.

If anyone asked you, you would swear up and down that you loved your husband.

He was just… you know… going through something. Chris was afflicted with some unsaid condition, you could generously say. Your friends had once warned you that many young husbands hit some sort of speed bump when they reached a certain peak in their professional lives, and maybe this was that. Maybe he was worried about money. Maybe there was another woman.

No, you decided, it wasn’t that. Chris simply didn’t have the stones.

Regardless.

Whatever it was, it was driving you mad.

Chris didn’t even greet you when he grumbled through the doorway; he hung up his coat and stowed his briefcase by the entry table before simply walking back to your bedroom. He didn’t so much as look at you. The fragile stem of the wine glass you’d absently been scrubbing for the past five minutes finally snapped in your hand, much to your utter mortification. This wouldn’t have happened if Chris would let you call the damn repairman. You were convinced of it.

Only twenty minutes later did Chris finally see you in the kitchen, finishing the dishes. He’d slipped off his suit jacket in lieu of his favorite sweater. Setting his newspaper on the countertop beside you, he poured himself a glass of iced tea.

“I see Katie Lee’s been busy, judging by the lights,” he absently noted. His attention tipped in the direction of the sink, likely drawn by the bright color of your rubber gloves. “I wish I could feel that festive. Goodness, darling, you’re still washing by hand?”

You stared at him, agog. “Why are you surprised? You won’t let me call the repairman, dear.”

The tips of Chris’ ears blushed. “I won’t?... Well, I suppose that makes sense; we can hardly afford it.”

Your poor husband backed up a step with how abruptly you turned to face him. “Hardly afford it?” you repeated. “What on earth makes you think we can’t afford to fix the dishwasher?”

Chris babbled, silently gesturing as he tried to force out some reasonable defense. There was none, you both knew. You were in a far better place financially than you were when you first moved into the house. “Look, our nest egg–”

“Our nest egg,” you firmly echoed, “is fine, Chan.”

Your husband’s statuesque nose wrinkled. “You know better than to call me that. It’s Chris in this house, at my office, and everywhere else.”

The tension was heating up the whole kitchen. This normally wasn’t an issue, and it never had been, not since Chris first made the change. All you knew was you were sore as hell with your husband, and you wanted your words to cut him deep. “Minho didn’t change his name for the office,” you shrugged.

Chris’ eyes lit aflare and he audibly scoffed before snatching his newspaper off of the counter. “What the hell has gotten into you?! All this over the damn dishwasher?”

Something inside of you finally snapped, just like that wine glass earlier. Your short high heels clicked on the kitchen floor as you stepped right into Chris’ face and slipped your rubber gloves off. “The dishwasher and so much more, dear. Maybe you’d feel festive with some electric lights on the house but I’m sure we can’t even get any if my husband is too concerned with finances that he supposedly trusts me with to even pay for the goddamn dishwasher to get repaired.”

Your husband gazed deep into you, like he was trying to suss out just where you got off talking to him like this. Admittedly, it’d never even crossed your mind before…

But it felt good.

And you had Chris’ enraptured, uninterrupted attention.

This was the longest you two had been this close in months.

Chris’ brow furrowed, trying to decipher you before you decided to become more forward yourself. You took another step forward, making breathing room in between you impossible and causing him to back up against the kitchen counter. His eyes flicked to the side where you reached and your rubber gloves could be heard slapping down onto the counter. Next, his gaze widened when he found himself chest to chest with you. Brazenly, forwardly, and almost nervously, you reached one hand up to cup his cheek. The other, however, first rested on his chest… before caressing lower… and lower… Chris swallowed a breath when your hand closed over the firmness in his trousers.

“Darling…”

Half-excited, halfway warning, his voice was barely above a murmur.

“Don’t darling me,” you admonished. Your voice was polished sterling, smooth and sharp. The zipper on his trousers was relatively loud given the stark silence in the kitchen. “I think we need to re-establish the little pecking order that exists in our home for a reason.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Chris was trying his best to look aloof but was failing spectacularly, considering his hands gripping the kitchen counter on either side of him while you slowly began to stroke his length.

You nodded demurely in response, contrasting with your quickening pace. “I think you forget how this works. You make all the money. I manage the house. When I say that the dishwasher is broken, I expect that you’ll let me call a goddamn repairman to get it fixed. Just as well, when you lament that you’d like to feel a little more festive for the holidays, I start making a list of decorations to buy.”

Chris shuddered, suffering from the dry spell that preceded this. “I think–oh god–I understand what you’re getting at. If I keep you happy–”

“Then I’ll keep you happy, dear.” You grinned, almost condescendingly, and let your husband climax into your hand. Breathless and blindsided from the whole encounter, Chris practically collapsed against the counter while you nonchalantly stepped over to the sink, using cold water to get the mess off your fingers before using warm water and soap.

Your husband didn’t thank you, he didn’t kiss you; he simply zipped up, grabbed his newspaper, and stormed off into his study. This wasn’t offensive, of course–you understood that Chris simply hated being bested. An excited giggle almost escaped you when you heard him talking to the repairman on the telephone down the hallway. It seemed you’d succeeded.

🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

A small but noticeable change came about almost instantly. Something unlocked in your husband, something that’d been missing for some time. First there was the flowers he brought you the next day, but then there was also the way that Chris came home shortly after the repairman finished with the dishwasher on Friday. You’d been beside yourself, almost seething as the repairman began adding on cost after cost to the bill. Chris had come home, staunchly shooed him out of the house, and valiantly haggled with him in the driveway until you were writing a check for precisely the amount he’d originally been quoted. Sure enough, your husband was mindfully picking up after himself, helping you wash up after dinner, and even spending time with you.

However, you couldn’t deny that he still seemed down about something.

You observed him on Sunday, precariously perched on a ladder while he hung the new Christmas lights along the eaves of the roof while you sat out on the porch, paging through a magazine. Every so often, Chris glanced across the street to where Minho was washing the Studebaker. Eventually, Mr. Lee offered a wave, which Chris easily returned, but he put his head back down in his work instead of going over there and saying hello as was expected. Even when Chris rejoined you in the living room after a hot shower, he wasn’t reading his newspaper. He was just quietly looking across the street at the damn car.

This had been something you’d been aware of for some time now, obviously. Chris adored his Chevy, but it was currently surviving more than thriving. He’d worked on it and worked on it, but it was never the same since he had to replace a couple of the pistons. And that was to say nothing for the humble convertible you still ran errands in. It was still pretty, sure, but it was on its last legs. Chris was so quietly embarrassed by it that he politely refused to even let you park it outside. Myriad thoughts rushed through your head, trying to make sense of what could be going on. Although you had to admit, you were a bit turned off by the idea of reliving the mess of bringing the whole dishwasher issue to a head with Chris. You weren’t interested in talking things out and growing frustrated. If you wanted to cut right to a resolution, you had to be a little more creative.

It took a bit for your plan to fully coalesce in your mind, but once it did, you were quietly confident that this would help. Chris stood out in the living room after work on Tuesday, his daily paper tucked under his arm while he sipped on a cup of coffee. He was gazing at the damn Studebaker across the street once again, but you knew this would be likely and–if you were being honest–betting on it. You were quiet in your approach, softly walking up behind him. Chris tensed, the muscles in his back and shoulders firming up, but he seemed curious. You were gentle, perhaps a little sensual when your lips brushed his ear. Your lipstick left a faint smudge, almost getting a giggle out of you. Still, you remained focused.

“Sure is a pretty Christmas tree in the Lee house,” you lilted.

Chris’ broad shoulders rounded, a sigh slipping out of him. “Right. The tree. Yeah, it’s really grand.”

You coolly stepped around to his front, your chests pressing together. Chris raised an eyebrow at you, trying to predict what was coming. This felt familiar, but he couldn’t place why just yet.

“Feeling festive yet, dear?” you sweetly implored him. “The lights you hung up are swell.”

“Hmm?” Chris hummed, his mind absent. “The lights turned out terrific, yeah. I suppose I could feel a little more festive, though.”

“I could pick out a tree, maybe,” you suggested. “The gal at the flower shop told me she knew someone that’d give me a great price.”

“A Christmas tree?” parroted your husband. “I suppose you could, darling, but how on earth would you get it home? I’m no betting man, but I’d pay good money to see someone try to lash a whole pine tree to the soft-top.”

“Maybe it’s time for a new car, then,” you shrugged.

Chris nearly imploded, but you knew he would. He stopped himself the moment he realized your hands were on his belt. Now there were far more pressing issues to deal with, as you smoothly slid down to your knees on the living room rug. His zipper was down before he could even process what was happening.

“Darling!” he babbled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?! Right in front of the window–”

“The hedges are in the way, dear,” you placated. Your eyes met, your lipstick leaving a dot of crimson on the soft tip of his rigid member. Chris exhaled hard, his gaze darting to the cup of coffee quivering in his hand. His grip forcibly steadied while he swallowed a breath.

“What’s this nonsense about a car? The convertible–”

“Is a disaster,” you interrupted. Chris shuddered the first time you fully teased him with your lips. “Besides, I have my eyes on a certain… Chevy.”

“You’re not insinuating…” your husband gawked. “A new car for me? No way. We absolutely can not afford–”

“There you go again,” you rolled your eyes after you released him from your mouth. “The man who doesn’t touch the checkbook thinks he knows what we can afford.”

“Jesus Christ,” Chris groaned when you pulled his length back between your lips, massaging it with your tongue. “First the dishwasher, now a goddamn car–”

“Such a colorful vocabulary,” you smirked. “You kiss your wife with that mouth?”

“You suck cock with yours,” he grumbled under his breath. “Besides. Excuse me for being concerned that something might go wrong someday–”

“Wrong? With what, your job? That you’ve worked for five years already?”

“Darling, wait, why’d you stop–”

It was true. You’d stopped fully, simply enjoying Chris’ squirming. “You want me to start again? You want me to keep you happy?”

Chris bit at his lip as he gazed down at you. His erection was blushing underneath the smudges of your lipstick. There was truly conflict occurring inside him, enough that you could see it. You’d confirmed the fallacy: as long as he let you control the finances, he could blissfully insist that the two of you were still on the doorstep of the poorhouse.

“... Fine,” your husband relented. He nearly cursed out loud when you began working him over again. “But I need a budget.”

“No you don’t,” you casually rebuked. “Because you’re too stubborn to want anything actually extravagant.”

The scowl on Chris’ face was audible. “Fine,” he repeated. “We’ll get the fucking car. We’ll get the fucking tree. Now come on, let’s go to bed.”

“Bed?” you grinned mischievously. “I thought we’d take it all the way to the end right here.”

“But we didn’t get to last time!” he whined. “And besides, you never–”

“Never? Well, maybe now I do.”

Chris’ eyes widened for a moment before squeezing shut while you worked him over with a fervor. He teetered on his heels, trying to remain steady as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. You cheekily took the cup of coffee out of his hand and set it on the side table before he could drop it. Above you, you could hear your husband’s breathing growing more ragged, his gentle grip on your shoulder becoming more desperate. Finally yet suddenly, almost surprising both of you, Chris’ hips seized once he reached his climax. He collapsed into his easy chair shortly after, boneless and breathless while you chipperly blotted the edges of your lips clean and refreshed his coffee.

🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄🎁🎄

Across the street, Katie Lee waved at you as she flipped through a magazine on her porch. Proudly, you waved back before setting the star on top of your beautiful Noble Fir. Chris’ new Buick pulled into the driveway shortly after Minho’s Stubebaker also parked across the street. Your husband came in, set his suitcase by the door, and kissed you on the cheek. He offered a nice, passing compliment on the Christmas tree, and set down a box of pastries for you from your favorite bakery.

But then he blithely skulked down the hall to his study. No questions about your day. No report on the minutiae going on at the office. No polite requests for dinner.

This was a concerning new pattern. Although Chris had been becoming more affectionate and doting, and even seemed to perk up more generally, he was still a sullen mess following his return from the office each day. The silver lining seemed to be, however, that you might not have figured out that specific element if you hadn’t made so much progress otherwise. You flipped through possible causes for Chris’ malaise like a Rolodex, before you finally came to the worst–but most prudent–solution. With a parting glance at Chris’ study door, you scooped up the box of pastries and headed out the front door to cross the street.

Katie Lee beamed at the sight of you trotting over to her porch with your offering of baked goods, and she promptly stood up after she set down her magazine.

“Sweetheart,” she gushed. “It’s been forever. Do come in, I have a fresh pitcher of iced tea.”

You tried not to ogle the decorations inside Katie Lee’s house, but this was a difficult task. For all the impressive opulence of the Christmas decorations outside, the interior was somehow even more so. Your neighbor waltzed into her gorgeous kitchen and produced a glass of iced tea for you with an impressive swiftness.

“Minho is tending to the gardenias in the backyard,” she explained whilst inspecting the box of pastries you brought. She took a bite of a madeline and swooned. “He’s seemed so stressed since the department learned about the promotion. I suppose Chris is feeling it as well?”

Promotion?! The overwhelming urge to interrogate Katie Lee right then and there was going to kill you. Instead, you did your best to swallow down your stunned expression.

“Promotion?” you demurely wondered. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Katie Lee blushed while trying to remain nonchalant. “I figured you, if anyone, would know! Apparently, the boys are all bickering and sprucing up their portfolios to become assistant director for the whole department. I’m shocked, seeing as Minho tells me that Chris is the one everyone’s terrified of.”

You felt as though you could explode, truth be told. There was some fancy promotion at work, one that would make Chris not worry about money for the rest of his life, and instead he was sulking at home?!

Your visit with Katie Lee was much shorter than expected, but only because your plotting resumed with a quiet ferocity.

It wasn’t until Friday afternoon that you felt that the pieces were in place to finally spring on your husband. The front door opened and closed, announcing his arrival home from the office, but you knew that next would come the momentary confusion that you were nowhere to be seen. Doors could be heard opening and closing, signaling that Chris was checking the backyard, your room, the bathrooms, the garage… until he finally opened his study.

You were tiptoeing on a stepladder, serenely hanging some colorful Christmas lights over his desk. The glittering string of electric decorations pooled haphazardly around your high heels.

Chris looked you up and down, trying to figure out what the hell you were up to. “... Darling?”

You smiled warmly. “I figured you could use some more holiday spirit.”

“Oh,” he blushed. “Thank you; I didn’t realize I seem so glum.”

“Incredibly glum,” you nodded in agreement. Chris came nearer and held your leg steady while he unwound the string of lights from your ankles. You couldn’t help but let a small smile pull at the corner of your mouth; Chris was always so protective of you. His hand was warm on your calf. Once you were free, you stepped down onto the hardwood. “Chris,” you pouted. “Let’s cheer you up. I bet we could throw a magnificent Christmas party.”

“A Christmas party?” he repeated. You cutely took the string of Christmas lights out of his hands and draped them around his shoulders.

“Yes,” you nodded, playfully wrapping him up with another round of lights. “We could invite the neighbors, all our friends, the boys at the office… your boss.”

“Wait,” Chris halted, staunchly pausing you. He was effectively trussed up in blinking Christmas lights. “My boss? Why my boss?”

“Be-cause,” you answered, sing-song. When you stepped forward, he took a step back. “It might help you get that promotion.”

The way you crooned the word brought out a sparkle in Chris’ eye, not helped by the twinkling of the lights strung around him. He was terrified, affronted, and intrigued, all at once. “Darling… Who told you about that?”

He took a step back, so you took another step closer. Chris stumbled back against his desk. “So you were keeping it from me?” you scoffed. His ears burned red.

“No, I–”

“Chris,” you softly scolded. He shut up right away. “All this about the dishwasher and the car… Despairing that something could go wrong some day? You’re melancholic whenever you come in through that front door. What on earth is going on at that office that’s got you so stressed?”

Chris refused to meet your eye. “Look, that’s enough. I'm the man in this house–”

With a twitch of your wrist, you pulled taut the lights strung around his chest. Your husband gasped; you’d earned his full attention. He understood he was grasping at any control he had left. Never in your whole relationship had he pulled any of that macho nonsense on you, so it clearly never held any jurisdiction over his values. You had him on the ropes and he didn’t want to admit it.

“The man in this house?” you sardonically repeated. “Well, I'm the woman of this house. Last I checked, that might even hold some weight.”

Chris’ Adam’s Apple bobbed when you pulled at his belt. You paused then, more than enough time for him to signal if he was distressed about your advances, and he seemed to anticipate more when you guided him to lay back on the sturdy desk.

“I just don’t think I have what they’re looking for, darling,” he said. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Like hell I do,” you stubbornly shook your head. “You're reliable, you’re a self-starter, and you’re a natural leader. What wouldn’t you have?”

“Well, you see–I mean, what I would–I mean, what I wouldn’t have–” Chris was a mess already. You’d apparently snubbed him twice by now, considering what he said during the last encounter. He gawked at you when you climbed onto the desk yourself. When you lifted the hem of your dress, your petticoat underneath raised just enough for him to confirm that you weren’t wearing any panties, something heretofore entirely out of character for you. “I just don’t think I have what they’re looking for…”

“You said that already, dear,” you sighed, clucking your tongue at him in mock admonishment. “And like I already said, I think you’re more than capable.”

“Well I’m glad you think so,” your husband rasped, “but you’re not the one in that office every business day. It’s not like inviting my boss will help. The pressure is–”

“I’m sure that pressure is big,” you grinned, and caressed his abdomen before you unclasped his belt. Chris stared as you busied yourself with slowly exposing his handsome erection.

A sharp gasp coincided with his head helplessly thunking back on the desk. “Oh god, finally… Wait, wait, what’re you waiting for?”

Another astute observation. Chris weakly lifted his head, only to see you brazenly, nearly sitting astride his hips, his painfully hard member just barely brushing against your entrance. “So we agree,” you teased. “We’re throwing a Christmas party.”

Chris initially responded with a subtle thrust of his hips, trying to get as much of you as he could. “Yes, you witch, whatever you want!”

“And you’ll invite your boss?” you purred, dipping him inside you for a single second. Chris winced with the pleasure, but also the sudden loss of it.

“Yes!” he croaked. “I’ll invite my boss!”

“Glad to hear it,” you giggled. “You can do it after you tell him you’re interested in the promotion.”

“I told you,” Chris wheezed, “I’m not going to bother, because I’m not going to get it–oh fuck!”

Your husband’s stiff curse was appropriate, given that you took him fully inside you, finally and suddenly, at that exact moment. However, you just as quickly lifted off of his lap. Chris fought at his impromptu restraints, the Christmas lights preventing him from grabbing onto you whatsoever. “I like to think, dear,” you pretended to frown, “that I have some standards.”

“You do!” he easily agreed.

“Then I’m puzzled as to why you think I suddenly allow myself to fuck men who are willing to settle.”

“Don’t play games with me,” he growled. “You know fully well that–hey!” Chris jolted when you started to torturously stroke him.

“You want me to stop?” you teased.

Your husband’s eyes bore into you, wild with arousal. “I want you to finally fuck me.”

Seeing you shrug nearly sent him into a frenzy. “Simple,” you said. “Say you’ll go for the promotion. Admit you’re worth it and can get it.”

The two of you stubbornly stared each other down. Somewhere deep inside you, buried under all that frustration and adrenaline, you were a little sentimental. This was a part of your dynamic you sorely missed.

“You brat!” Chris spat, his head falling back onto the desk, “you always get what you want. Fine.”

“Say it,” you taunted. Between your legs, your husband’s length pulsed in your grip.

“I’ll go for the goddamn promotion,” he panted. A proud smile spread across your lips.

“The boys are going to be so sore with me,” Chris added under his breath.

“And why’s that?” you implored.

“Because I’m gonna be the one that gets the goddamn offer letter. I’ve put in the time and I’ve had it coming.”

“Good. Let ‘em be sore. They’ll get over it.”

Chris very clearly had another retort in the chamber, but he didn’t have a chance to say it, not when you began to ride him. The string of Christmas lights were clenched in your hand like a set of reins. Instead of anything coherent, Chris was a babbling mess of groaned curses and swears. His brow was furrowed cutely, concentrating on the pleasure coursing through him. The tempo was so frantic, you rolling your hips against his and him thrusting up into you, that the desk rocked and creaked under you both. At the rate you were going, you were liable to climax at any second, your dry spell quickly coming to an abrupt end.

“Oh god,” your husband keened, his breath ragged. His hands uselessly scrambled and settled to simply clutch at the desk under him. “Darling,” he weakly pleaded, “you got me too worked up, I don’t know how long I can hold out!”

You did your best to mask the fact that you were right there with him. “That doesn’t sound very fair, now does it?” you giggled. “I’ve been so patient and you haven’t even gotten me there. You don’t think I’m frigid, do you?”

“No, not at all!” he blustered. “Come on, baby, please, get there with me–”

You grinned, benevolent. “You want me to get there with you?”

“Yes!” he ranted. “Yes, please, darling, baby, what happened to that pecking order?! To keeping each other happy–”

Good god, this really was the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.

“Fine,” you simpered. “Push me right over the edge, Chris.”

With a tight breath sucked between his teeth, your husband hissed out another string of swears as his hips canted right up into your spot, sending you both over the precipice. Your peak zipped up into you straight from your hips. It flooded your vision with spots of sheer bliss, getting you heady and reeling. Chris wasn’t better off, that vein in his neck pulsing from the way he clenched his jaw. His bucking hips toppled you over, punching a groan out of him when you collapsed into his firm chest.

Slowly, warmly, the two of you melted into each other, coalescing in a heap on his desk in the study. You breathed him in, the faint smell of perspiration outlining his cologne.

“We’ll need a caterer for the Christmas party,” Chris murmured against you. He seemed content to still be strung up in the length of Christmas lights, at least as long as you wanted him to be.

“A caterer?” you scoffed in disbelief. “Luxurious. You sure you don't mean a potluck with the gals?”

“What? No,” your husband argued. “The Lees would hire a caterer. We’re hiring a caterer.”

You both caught your breath as you helped Chris to sit upright and finally unwrap him from his unorthodox binds. “Chris Bang,” you laughed, “insisting on a caterer. What’s gotten into you?”

The guys had barely gotten offstage before you were being gently pulled by the arm and guided into the private dressing room the stadium offered. You turned, finding Felix in the process of removing the mic and earpiece that were tied into his clothes, tangled even more from the performance.

His hair was no longer styled, but still pulled back into the half-pony that you loved. He wiped sweat off himself as he fiddled with the wires, hands equally as warm and sweaty as the rest of him. "Here Lix, let me" you say, walking up to him and undoing the wires clipped into his shirt, setting the tangled mess into a pile for the staff to sort out. You would feel bad, but you knew there was a very specific way they organized, and it would be easier for them if you didn't even try.

You turned back, watching him remove the sweaty outfit and dump it on a chair, running his hands through his hair, now clad in only his boxers. "You did so good angel" You reassured, knowing he needed a minute for the adrenaline from performing to leave his body. He offered you a smile which you returned.

A staff member knocked and you cracked the door, handing her your boyfriends shed clothes and mic with an appreciative nod. She shrugged in return, which was a common response. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Of course you knew they were doing their job, but you could be nice, couldn't you?

You were snapped out of your thoughts by a hand reaching over your shoulder and pushing the door closed, before locking it. The same hand then slithered around your waist, joined by the other and a soft breath on your neck. "Hi" Felix breathed onto your ear, his deep voice soft. "Hi angel" you responded with a small giggle at his antics, turning in his arms to face him.

His eyes were dark with lust as he kissed you, soft and lingering as he pulled away to suck on your neck teasingly. Him being needy after a concert wasn't uncommon in the slightest, but usually he waited until you got home. If the feeling of his cock rubbing your thigh through his boxers was any indication, he wasn't going to make it that far.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair an making him groan into the nape of your neck. He bent and hooked his hands under your thighs, lifting you and hooking your legs around his waist. The friction of his hard abs under your clit was enough to make you moan softly as he walked over to the desk, setting you on top of it. You didn't remove your legs from around him, and he never made any indication of you doing so.

"Angel~ ah, they'll hear" you protested lightly, aware of the other members and staff on the other side of the door. "Let them hear. Let them know I'm yours." he responded, voice filled with lust. The thought made you both thrilled and nervous, though you knew as soon as the guys realized what was happening, they'd send the staff away, which eased your mind.

You were instantly pulled back to reality as Felix worked your pants down your legs carefully. He stepped back just enough to bring his hand to your pussy, running his fingers softly through your folds. You moaned, hips bucking into his hand. He withdrew his hand and you were about to protest, but it was immediately replaced with his cock sliding carefully into you.

You both groaned, loudly enough that you knew it went through the thin door, the thought sending shocks right to your core. Felix clearly had the same thought, smirking at you as he started to move. His demeanor instantly shifted, revealing once again how needy he was. His cock twitched with every stroke through your walls, making him screw his eyes shut and groan loudly.

His pace quickly increased, until you were both moaning loudly and his grip on your hips was tight enough to bruise. "FuckfuckfuckImgonna-" his scrambled sentence was cut with a loud guttural gasp as his hips jolted, slamming into you twice more before stilling. His entire body froze, his mouth open as he panted, and the feeling off him emptying into you was enough to push you over the sweet edge, your own release having you moaning and rolling onto him.

You both came down slowly after a minute, pulling apart and redressing. He placed several soft kisses to your lips throughout, slowing the process, but you weren't about to complain.

When you finally walked out together, you were met with the wall of seven men, all smirking or pretending to look disgusted. "Soooo.... you guys had fun" Han smirked, leaning against one of the desks. "Yah Jisungie, don't act like Lix is the only one that gets feisty after performance" Lee know called from the other side of the room, not looking up. Felix's voice in your ear interrupted Hans' flustered reply to the laughing man across the room.

"Still, that's definitely not a one time thing"

~Allow me to indulge in your dreams~

Taglist:

@supernovanetwork

@yaorzu-blog

@theyadorevalerie

Hyunjin had gotten home around the usual time, and having texted you he was on his way, you were waiting to throw yourself at him the second he walked in the door, which he eagerly reciprocated. Both of you stood there for a few minutes, swaying lightly back and forth as you stood wrapped around each other. After a few minutes, you could hear faint sniffs next to your ear. It wasn't unusual for hyunjin to be physically and mentally exhausted when he finally got home, but it was rare for him to allow it to take over.

"Long day?" you asked softly, voice barely over a whisper. You felt him nod, neither of you parting from the embrace you both needed. The room fell into a comfortable silence again, only broken by the small noises your boyfriend emitted, and you were glad he felt comfortable enough to fall apart when he needed to.

"You hungry?" you asked, slightly louder than before. He nodded again, pulling back slightly so you could see his face. His eyes were slightly puffy with the few tears that had fallen, but his face still lit up with the soft smile he gave you as you wiped away the stray tears. "Go wash up, ill get it ready" you nudged him gently towards your shared bedroom. He walked away, hands trailing along your waist as he went, like he didn't want to let go.

You quickly plated the dinner you had made, walking into the living room with the plates just as hyunjin was walking in. Even as exhausted as he was, he took the plate with a soft peck to your lips, whispering a thank you as he sat down across the small table from you and started eating. He had changed to a basic t-shirt and sweats, leaving his beautifully long hair to rest on his shoulders.

You kept glancing across at hyunjin throughout the short time you ate, something you always did when he was tired to make sure he was okay. He finished after you and you were quick to scoop up his plate and set it in the sink. You'd deal with it later. You walked back in, gently guiding hyunjin out of his seat and leading him to your shared room, guiding him to sit on the bed as you chucked a pair of boxers at him. "Change, and we'll sleep" you said, ruffling his hair affectionately as you walked to the bathroom, washing off your makeup.

"Love?" he whispered from the bed where he was still seated. His voice, even exhausted, was gorgeous. "Yeah jin?" you replied, wiping the excess water off your face and turning back to him with a soft smile. "whats up?"

He held out his hand, saying nothing. This was a common thing for hi to do when he needed your presence to say something. You padded across the floor to him, taking his hand and twining your fingers together as you stepped between his legs. "I need you" he said softly, rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand. You nodded and smiled before capturing his lips in a kiss, feeling him melt against you and wrap his arms around you adoringly.

You broke apart, his eyes half hooded as he looked lovingly up at you. "Ill help" you said, and his eyes lit. Like you could ever say no to him anyways, he had a really lost puppy look to him sometimes. You pointed to the bed behind him, and he gleefully hopped up to lean against the headboard, looking at you like you were the most precious thing he'd ever seen. Find a mirror, love.

You crawled up between his outstretched legs, sitting back on your heels as you stared at each other for a moment. His eyes met yours, reflecting the adoration you knew was easily shown on your own face. You ran your hands up and down his thighs softly, making him groan and shift his legs, his cock straining beneath his sweats. Today wasn't for teasing, especially not when he looked like that.

You hooked a finger in the waistband of his pants, pulling them gently down over his bulge, letting him kick them off the bed. His cock rested against his abs, already leaking slightly. You ran a finger up it, tracing the vein that ran from base to tip, making him shudder and throw his head back. Right. No teasing. You took his length in your hand, stroking him slowly and swirling your thumb around the tip, enjoying the sounds elicited from him as his hips bucked into your hand. "F-fuck love" he cursed breathily, trailing off into one of his body-melting moans as you squeezed your hand softly around him.

You continued lightly stroking him for a few minutes, enjoying watching him moan and writhe with pleasure. "M-more" he moan, sweat dripping along his temple. "More?" you ask coyly, knowing exactly what it was he wanted. He nodded eagerly, either not caring or not noticing the teasing with the haze he was in.

You slipped off the bed for a moment, making him whine with loss. You opened one of your dresser drawers before quickly reappearing with one of your small vibrators in one hand. You placed it on his stomach, against the base of his cock, and turned it on. He gasped, hips bucking into the intense stimulation as you proceeded to continue stroking him as well. His legs squirmed as his moans grew louder, nearing his high. You took the tip of his cock into your mouth, knowing it would send him over.

He came with a sharp, breathy moan, body convulsing as he came into your mouth, hands curling into the sheets. You pulled your mouth off him as you stroked him through his orgasm, licking your lips at the taste of him. He gasped, cock twitching as the overstimulation hit him, the vibrator still against him as you stroked his cock. "Fuck, love! s-stop" he moaned loudly, hips stuttering every time your hand hit his slit. "Colour?" you asked gently. "G-green" he moaned out, gasping and throwing his head back again as you continued. "There you go pretty boy" you coax, knowing he needed to relax or he wouldn't be able to reach his high again.

You knew him inside and out, and, to be fair, you had done lots of this with him before. You continued your gentle stroking, not wanting to overwhelm him too much. He reached his hand out towards you, fingers shaking as you took it, twining your fingers together and rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand. You repeated the motion with your other hand on his slit, making him moan lewdly and cum again, thighs shaking and hand squeezing your own. You clicked the vibrator off as he came down, his spent cock finally resting against his now sticky abdomen.

You grabbed a cloth from the bathroom and wet it, coming back and wiping his quivering form down quickly, apologizing when you brushed his too-sensitive cock, making him hiss. You crawled into bed next to him after discarding the cloth and clicking off the light, pulling his shaking form against your body.

You traced light patterns into his waist and legs until he stopped shaking, relaxing against you and burying his face into your neck. You kissed his hair lightly, brushing it off his face. "Love you so much jinnie" you whispered softly into his ear.

"Love you too" came a weak reply, muffled into your collarbone

~Allow me to indulge in your dreams~

Got a little carried away with this one, but zero regrets

Taglist:

@supernovanetwork

@yaorzu-blog

@theyadorevalerie

Thinking about how you would see him doing that stage, the outfit, revealing and good lord he looked like a stripper, the movements, clearly this man knew exactly what he was doing in bed.

Of course, you knew that part. He knew exactly what this would do to you.

Videos were always posted almost immediately after the concert, so you saw it before he got home. Replayed his perfectly controlled body rolls and bedroom eyes over and over again until you heard the key turn in the lock.

"Love?" He called, wondering where you were. You wandered out, your phone paused on a video of yet another angle of the performance.

His eyes lit up the second he saw you, before his brows furrowed in confusion at your face. You said nothing, holding up your phone paused mid-bodyroll.

"You're either gonna rail me, or I'm going to cry" you said, genuinely not knowing what to do with the amount of emotion coursing through your body. He clicked on immediately, coming over and wrapping his arms around your waist, setting your phone on the counter.

"Does my pretty baby need help?" He asked teasingly, leaning his head down to suck marks into your neck. "Please, love, I dont-" you begged, being cut off by innie "shhh, love. It's alright, I know." He coos, knowing the fragile state you were in.

He picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing your core against his growing dick through your clothes. He carries you to your shared room, laying you down and leaning over you, kissing your neck as he ruts into you, starting to get desperate himself.

You moan at the sensation of his hips, clinging to his body as his whimpers overtake your senses. He always was loud, you loved it, but when he did things like this, performances that were for you, it was so much more intense, he got off on the emotion and meaning behind it, knowing how much you would enjoy it.

"Baby, please," you begged, breathless and desperate to have him inside you. "I know" He said, his voice had a rough edge to it, laced in desperation and dipped in lust. He pulled back just far enough to remove both of your pants and underwear, discarding them on the floor behind him.

He lined himself up, checking your face once more for permission. You gave a small nod and a "please", so desperate you were nearly shaking. He brought his hand down to your core, scooping up your excessive wetness before bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking on them.

"You're soaked, love" He said. Normally you would be embarrassed, but the intense worship-like reverance with which he said it replaced embarrassment with fondness, the emotion adding to the growing collection that was threatening to overflow inside your heart.

Before you had any more time to sink into the chasm of adoration you held for him, jeongin carefully slid himself into you, going slowly even though his hips shook with the urge to slam into you. You both moaned loudly, his breathless whimpers harmonizing with your unapologetic moans.

Once he was fully seated inside you, your hand fumbled around to find his as you adjusted. He eagerly interlocked his fingers into yours, tracing the back of your palm with his thumb to ground you. He smiled fondly down at you, and you pulled him down into a kiss, sloppy and loving and full of the intense fire lit between you.

Without parting contact with his lips, you tapped his hips, signaling him to move. He complied quickly, slowly rolling his hips into your already gushing pussy. Just like the video. "Taking sex to the stage, are we?" You teased, although the tone was lost in between your pants as he sped up his thrusts. "Was picturing you- ah fuck...- every time I did it" He breathed, moans and whimpers growing in intensity and volume.

You arched into him as he hit the sensitive spot inside you, moaning loudly and squeezing his hand. His face fell to the crook of your neck as his other hand wrapped around your middle, pressing you against himself as he desperately rutted into you, his pace stuttering and faltering as he approached the cliff of his orgasm.

Pleasure built in a knot in your core as you felt him near release. You pulled his face to yours in a kiss that turned into simply breathing eachothers air, as you were both too breathless.

"Love" He whimpered, eyes brimming with tears of pleasure as he neared his high. "Come with me" you breathed. That was all it took before his hips shook violently, slamming into you as you cried out at the same time, your back arching as release hit you hard. Both of you shook and moaned for a solid minute, innie seeing white as he continued to pump his release into your spasming walls.

You came down before him, flopping onto your back and watching his fucked-out face with half-lidded eyes. He slowly stopped shaking, pulling out and collapsing onto of you, his nuzzling into your neck the only sign of his consciousness.

"I need to do more stages" He said, and you both laugh lightly, your arms surrounding him. "I don't think we'd survive"

Taglist:

@beautyandmentalbreakdown

@supernovanetwork

You don't know how you got here. You didn't care at this point, not with the sheer heaven you were clouded in, surrounded by. You didn't know if you were still breathing, if your heart was still beating. But it must've been, or you wouldn't be experiencing the complete ecstasy you were now.

You were laying on your back Jisung on top of you, rolling his hips so perfectly into you that every nerve on your body was alight like the houses on christmas. If that wasn't enough, Jeongin was underneath you, leaving hickies on your neck, his hard length pressing on your back. You were already deaf to your own moans, every piece of your being focused on the two men surrounding you.

Jisung's hips continued relentlessly, making your core tense and spasm, nearing your high. "So fucking tight~" came his groan, the praise making your hands tense farther onto Jeongin's thighs, his presence keeping you grounded. "S-sungie~" you moaned, head falling back again, unable to process the pleasure coursing through you.

"Its okay baby, i've got you" came Jeongin's voice at your ear, the first he's spoken since Jisung started fucking you. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he didn't want to be here, but his hard-on that leaked against your waist -being stimulated by jisungs thrusts- said otherwise. You let yourself finally fall at his words, crying out and kicking at the sheets, Jisung's muffled scream told you that he came at the same time, finally stilling as his stomach clenched, releasing into you.

He pulled out and collapsed into a sweaty mass next to you, panting hard and twitching every few seconds, cock still leaking onto the sheets. Jeongin's hand trailed through your folds, making your hips jolt at the extreme sensation on your sensitive core. He detached himself from behind you, crawling around so he leaned over you, hands running up and down your thighs. "Please baby, let me fuck your thighs" he begged, eyes so glazed with lust you immediatly gave into his pleading.

He positioned your legs, pressing your thighs together with his hands. He pumped himself a few times, gathering his precum before spreading it on your thighs, doing the same with your and ji's cum from your pussy. Once he was satisfied with his work, he pressed your thighs together again and pushed his cock between them, groaning raspily at the feeling. He positioned himself comfortably before starting to thrust at a faster pace, head falling forward as he watched the scene before him like it was the greatest thing in the world.

He shifted and you cried out, his cock now rubbing your clit with every thrust, fogging your mind with the pleasure-pain of overstimulation. You heard a breathy moan next to you, and glanced over to see Jisung stroking himself, the chokes and hip stutters telling you he was overstimulating himself on purpose, watching you and Jeongin. He caught your eyes, sending you a playful wink before his gaze travelled back to your thighs, and you followed as well.

Jeongin was bunny-fucking your thighs, his moans reaching a higher and higher pitch as he neared release, and with every drag of his cock against your clit, you neared as well. He noted this and shifted forward, putting direct pressure on your clit every time, making you cry out and throw your head back, the assault on your sensing sending you straight to your climax, back arching as you came hard.

You felt Jeongin pull away, and looked up to see him stroking himself roughly, groaning as he came hard. The same sight was next to you as well, although jisung was much noisier about his orgasm.

When everyone had finally come down and you were all laying next to eachother, jisung piped up. "So.... when can I do that?"

~Allow me to indulge in your dreams~

Taglist:

@supernovanetwork

@yaorzu-blog

@theyadorevalerie