I haven't posted about this this quite a long time! Almost 2 years! Though, I doubt I still have many followers from when I was working on IMA, I still wanted to post this here since TikTok was going feral over these guys (cough cough Cuphead cough cough).
: ̗̀➛ pairing: lee felix x brat fem!reader (a bit of seungmin x reader)
: ̗̀➛ word count: ~5.9k
: ̗̀➛ content: fluff, smut, felix is the sweetest thing but so mean, reader actively tries to make felix mad, minor injury in the kitchen
part 2 is out!
you make a bet with seungmin: you've got one week to get your boyfriend, felix—who seems completely incapable of getting mad at you—to finally snap. after a series of failed attempts, you figure if anything’s going to work, it might as well be in bed.
author's note: i’ve been on a writing grind lately so here’s a second fic in one sitting because apparently i have no self-control. i need felix like yesterday. enjoy! ♡
smut warnings below the cut!
: ̗̀➛ smut warnings: hard dom!felix, explicit sexual content, oral (f. receiving), reader has the biggest degradation kink, brat taming, slight edging, power play, unprotected piv (don't), missionary, semi-voyeurism
you’d always thought of him as sunshine.
everyone did.
even when he wasn’t smiling, felix had a glow to him, with freckles that danced across his cheeks like constellations and a voice that made people turn around just to hear him speak again. he was soft. gentle. sweet in every way.
even in bed he was gentle. he was all praise and slow hands. he loved you softly. every time.
which is probably why no one—including you—had ever seen him mad.
not truly.
you were perched on the edge of the couch in his dorm, nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of your hoodie. it was felix’s: slightly oversized and still faintly smelling like his laundry detergent.
you were here because you’d accidentally taken something you weren’t supposed to. a usb, to be exact. felix had handed it to you earlier in the day along with your own, and in your rush to leave, you’d pocketed the wrong one.
“i just feel so bad,” you groaned, glancing toward the hallway. “he said he needed it for something tonight. like, deadline needed.”
seungmin was sprawled across the other end of the couch, legs kicked up, eyes on his phone. he barely glanced up as he responded.
“you’re being dramatic.”
“no, this is really bad. i shouldn’t have—”
“honestly?” he cut in, finally looking at you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “i don’t think he’s even capable of getting mad at you.”
you blinked. “what?”
he chuckled, flipping his phone over. “i mean, come on. you could probably punch him in the face and he’d apologize for getting in the way of your fist.”
you laughed despite yourself. “that is so not true.”
“isn’t it?”
you opened your mouth to argue, but then the front door opened.
felix stepped in, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair slightly damp from the drizzle outside. his eyes found you immediately.
“hey,” you said, standing. “i brought it. sorry again, i seriously didn’t mean—”
“shh.” he was already moving toward you, gentle hands coming up to cradle your arms, thumbs brushing soothingly against the fabric of your his hoodie. “don’t stress, angel. it’s okay.”
“but you said you needed it for tonight,” you mumbled, guilt creeping up your spine. “i should’ve double-checked—”
“and i should’ve labeled mine.” he gave a small laugh, pulling you closer, tucking your head under his chin with that easy warmth that always made your chest flutter. “it’s not a big deal. really.”
you swore you saw seungmin choke on a laugh in your peripheral vision.
your eyes flicked sideways, just in time to catch him turning away, phone suddenly so interesting. his shoulders were shaking, just barely.
felix either didn’t notice or chose to ignore it.
“i’m gonna head out again to drop this off,” he said, voice still soft, fingertips lingering at your elbow for a second longer before letting go.
you nodded, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “right. of course.”
“thanks for coming all the way back,” he added, gaze warm and fond, like you’d just done something heroic instead of, well, returning the thing you accidentally stole. he gave your arm one last squeeze. “text me when you get home, yeah?”
“i will.”
then he was gone, door shutting behind him with a soft click.
and the very second it closed, seungmin’s voice rang out from behind you.
“well that was gross.”
you turned.
“excuse me?”
he didn’t even look up from his phone. “you took his drive and somehow walked away with a hug, and a thank you.”
“okay, but—”
“nope. don’t justify it.” seungmin pointed his phone at the door.
you rolled your eyes, hoisting your bag over your shoulder, but the words stuck with you. warmed you a little too much. annoyingly so.
still, you couldn’t help yourself.
“he’s still a person. he’s not, like… impervious to irritation.” you muttered, half to yourself, half to the room. “if i pissed him off enough, he’d crack,”
seungmin didn’t even flinch. “tell me when that ever happens.”
you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. “you know i’m gonna try to, just to prove you wrong.”
“mhm,” seungmin said flatly, not even looking up. “60 bucks. you have a week.”
“60 bucks,” you repeated. “i’m gonna find his limit,” you said, dead serious. “he has to have one.”
“good luck.”
you’d been thinking about it for days. how to do it, how to gently prod at the edge of felix’s limits without actually hurting him. you weren’t trying to be cruel. you just wanted to see something other than that permanent calm. you wanted to prove he could feel sharp things, too. that he wasn’t made of clouds and soft blankets and baked cookies.
jealousy. that was your angle.
was felix ever jealous? you genuinely didn’t know. he’d never so much as blinked when people flirted with you—though to be fair, you’d never exactly flirted back. you never had a reason to and you never wanted to.
but now, you needed a reaction.
so when your company hosted a casual dinner event—open to partners and friends—you didn’t hesitate to bring felix. he looked so good that night, dressed in soft black slacks and a black button up that hugged his torso a little too well for your sanity. his hand found yours under the table the second you sat down, thumb stroking slow, lazy circles against your palm like always.
you were seated at a long table with a mix of coworkers and guests, plates being passed around, wine glasses clinking gently, hearty laughter filling the room.
he was beside you, close and always tuned in to you.
but the guy on your other side was friendly. talkative. you leaned into it. just enough to have felix notice.
you laughed at something the guy said—tilting your head just slightly, gently hitting his arm in that way that could maybe be seen as flirty. maybe. you were careful.
felix didn’t say a word.
he was smiling, even. still soft spoken. still squeezing your hand every now and then. still brushing your thigh under the table with his when he shifted in his seat. he even leaned in at one point and murmured, “you okay?”
you nodded, playing it cool. “mhm. just chatting.”
felix grinned. that same soft, sunny smile that always made you feel like you were the only one in the room.
“alright,” he said, brushing your cheek with his knuckle before pulling back like nothing was even slightly off.
he went back to being quiet and polite. still engaged in the conversation going around the table, nodding at someone’s story, chiming in with a laugh when appropriate. he didn’t stiffen. didn’t narrow his eyes. didn’t even glance at the guy beside you like he might be competition.
you sat there smiling and nodding at whatever work guy was saying about his vacation to bali, but your stomach was knotting. tighter by the second.
because you knew what you were doing. and felix wasn’t reacting.
or at least he wasn’t reacting the way you expected.
he was still him. gentle. and he could’ve been using this moment to get back at you.
there were plenty of chances. the woman across the table who complimented his accent. the one seated diagonally, sipping wine and laughing just a little too brightly at his jokes. one even asked him how his skin was so clear and if he worked out—which, in fairness, were valid questions.
felix didn’t take the bait. he was polite, as always. gracious, even. gave small answers. thanked them with a nod and a smile. but he didn’t engage.
he didn’t offer even an ounce of attention that could be mistaken as anything more than manners.
and almost like he was aware of your internal panic creeping in, his knee pressed against yours beneath the table. then reached for his water glass and poured some into yours before you could even realize it was empty.
this wasn’t going to work.
you weren’t going to rattle him. you weren’t going to get that possessiveness, that glint of jealousy in his eyes.
because felix didn’t play games with you. he didn’t need to punish you or mirror your actions to prove a point. he didn’t crack under pressure or provocations.
this wasn’t going to work.
it had been a few days since the whole work dinner experiment—since felix had unknowingly, demolished your plan by doing absolutely nothing except love you the way he always did. respectfully. infuriatingly.
but you weren’t done yet.
jealousy didn’t work, sure. but irritation? that had potential. everyone had a limit, and you were determined to find felix’s.
you were at his place again—technically his and seungmin’s—kitchen lights warm, sleeves rolled up, and flour already dusting the countertop like early snow.
the goal today was mild sabotage. nothing irreversible. nothing that would actually ruin the cake. just… enough sugar to make it way noticeably sweet. enough to maybe make him sigh. maybe scold you a little. maybe just something.
you waited until he stepped away to grab a new mixing bowl, and then—quietly—you dumped in an extra quarter cup. and...maybe a little more.
by the time he came back, you were standing innocently with the spatula, gently folding the batter like you hadn’t just committed a culinary crime.
he paused. looked at the bowl. then looked at you.
“…did you add too much sugar?”
he caught you. you blinked up at him. “what, how'd you know—i mean...no?”
he hummed. scooped a bit of batter on his finger. tasted it.
and then, smiled?
“if you wanted it sweeter, you could’ve just told me,” he said, voice fond. “i’m gonna balance it so it doesn’t taste like pure syrup.”
you sighed loudly, dramatic, flopping back against the counter. “this is so annoying.”
he laughed and leaned past you to grab the fruit bowl.
“go chop up some of the fruit, okay? i’ll deal with this.”
you looked at seungmin, who hadn’t said a word. he gave you a look that screamed pathetic.
you stuck your tongue out at him and turned back to the cutting board, muttering under your breath.
great. jealousy failed. sabotage failed. what were you supposed to do now? bake the cake upside down? hide the eggs?
you didn’t know. you really didn’t know anymore.
your plan—whatever it had been—was slipping through your fingers. and even worse, you were starting to feel like you should give up. felix had been so patient, so kind through all of it, and suddenly, you just felt silly and immature. you had something so good, and you were trying to poke at him.
lost in thought, you didn’t even realize how close your fingers were to the blade until it was too late.
the knife slipped.
there was a sharp sting.
you yelped, the sound cutting through the warm haze of the kitchen as the knife clattered onto the counter.
“ah!” you gasped, clutching your hand. blood was already rising.
felix’s head snapped up instantly. “what happened?”
you stepped back, breath calming a little when you realized it wasn't too bad. “it's okay, i just cut myself.”
he was already there. crossing the kitchen faster than you’d ever seen him move, his hands reaching out to check your fingers, but the moment he saw the blood, his eyes darkened.
“what were you even doing?” he snapped, voice sharper than the knife that slipped. he turned the sink on and ushered you to come over. “were you even paying attention?”
your lips parted, stunned putting your finger under the running water. “i—i don’t know, i was just—”
“you weren’t thinking,” he cut in, tone clipped.
his voice rose. that low, velvety rasp he usually used to whisper sweet things into your ear was now slicing through the air.
“for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, shaking his head, “i asked you to do one simple thing. not play with the goddamn knife.”
you stared at him, completely disarmed. not just by his rumbling voice. but also how he looked.
chest rising and falling under his fitted sweater, sleeves pushed back just enough to show the flex of his forearms. his jaw clenched, eyes dark with something deeper than just irritation. he looked… furious. and so hot.
your mouth went dry as you stumbling onto a chair.
you couldn’t stop staring at the way felix was breathing, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, like he was trying to bite back whatever else he wanted to say. his hands, still stained with flour, flexed at his sides. every muscle in his jaw was tense.
seungmin stood up, crossing the kitchen to the cabinet. nothing was gonna progress if you stayed there ogling at your angered boyfriend.
he grabbed a bandaid, crouching beside the chair you’d sunk into. he opened it like lee felix hadn’t just snapped for the first time in recorded history.
“here,” he said, putting it in your hand. “don’t bleed on the tile, you'll make it dirty.”
you gave him a weak glare, but he just smirked.
felix hadn’t moved. he was still standing there, looking at the floor now, his expression twisted as if he was starting to come to his senses
“you got really worked up there, man,” seungmin said, tone light but clearly pointed.
that made felix move. he blinked like he was coming out of something, then turned toward you—eyes wide now, voice quiet.
“i’m sorry, baby” he said.
you didn’t say anything for a second. just stared at him, still a little stunned by the whiplash.
but even now, with his shoulders slumped and his tone apologetic, he still looked good. still had that anger simmering just under the surface. still had you simmering.
you swallowed hard.
“it’s okay felix,” you said slowly.
seungmin raised a brow but said nothing.
felix crouched in front of you, his hand ghosting over yours.
you swallowed. he was still doing everything out of love.
even when his voice rose and his hands tightened and his eyes darkened—he was still the same felix. still apologizing even though you had started this whole mess.
you hadn’t even pissed him off correctly. he didn’t yell because you were annoying. he yelled because you were bleeding and he didn’t know how else to handle the sudden fear curling in his gut.
and now he was kneeling in front of you, shame written in every line of his face, like he had done something unforgivable.
you wished he hadn't come down from it so fast.
you wished—maybe more than anything—that he knew he didn’t have to keep being perfect for you to love him.
“i won’t yell like that again,” he murmured.
you blinked at him, and for a second you wanted to say don’t promise that.
you didn’t know what else to do.
jealousy had failed. sabotage had failed. even blood hadn’t done it right. every attempt chipped at something inside you—your confidence, your ego, your grasp on what you were even trying to prove. and yet…
seungmin had texted you the evening of the baking incident:
[that was a close one] [but it didn’t count. try harder.]
you'd stared at it for a long time.
one last attempt.
if you couldn’t get felix to be mad at you, then maybe you could make him lose control somewhere else.
which is why he was between your thighs right now.
you were sprawled across his bed, hips twitching, sheets clutched in your fists.
felix was eating you out like he had all the time in the world to worship every inch of you. his tongue was working you open so slowly you wanted to scream. and he kept murmuring sweet things between licks.
felix’s tongue traced a slow line up your slit, lips closing over your clit. he groaned softly into you, the sound vibrating through your core, and his arms curled tighter around your thighs, anchoring you in place. you were trembling, half mad with need already, and all he’d done was kiss you like he loved you—which, of course, he did.
“taste so good, angel… always so sweet for me, aren’t you?”
“f—felix…” your voice broke on his name, hands knotted in the sheets. he just hummed again, lips gliding over your clit, tongue flicking in slow, circles that had your thighs quivering. he was so gentle like you were the only thing in the world worth touching delicately.
and maybe that was the problem.
you were panting, already so close and he hadn’t even slipped a finger inside yet. you could feel your orgasm mounting, and you knew what would come next. he’d hold you through it. he’d kiss your thighs, murmur praise, make you feel like you were the center of the universe.
you were already trembling, one hand fisting in his sheets, the other tangled in his hair, breath coming in staggered whines. he didn’t speed up. didn’t deviate. he continued until your hips twitched and a loud moan slipped out without thinking.
and then he paused. just for a second, making you curse internally.
his eyes lifted to yours, warm and glassy, lips shiny with you.
“shhh, darling…” he whispered, and the way he said it made your stomach flip. “seungmin’s in the living room, remember?”
your chest heaved. right. he always reminded you. because you’d confessed once—embarrassed and flushed, the sheet pulled up to your chin after a particularly loud session—that you hated the idea of his roommate hearing. and since then, felix had always made sure to keep things quiet. to warn you. to soothe you when your voice got too high, your cries too desperate. he’d press a kiss to your throat, a hand hovering over your mouth, shushing you.
but tonight, something changed in you.
you weren’t going to hold back.
so when his mouth dipped again, lips closing over your clit in a slow, gentle suck, you let it out. a high, shaky moan that cracked at the end, followed by a breathless, “fuck, felix.”
he froze.
lifted his head.
his brows were drawn, just slightly, and his voice—when it came—was low and firm, not scolding just yet but edged with something you didn't know he had.
“hey.” his thumb stroked up your inner thigh, slow but deliberate. “quiet down.”
your breath hitched, thighs twitching around his shoulders as the authority in his tone settled in your chest.
you pouted. just a little. “why?”
his eyes narrowed. there was a flicker of disbelief there, like he didn’t quite believe you were pushing this boundary.
“because kim seungmin’s out there,” he said, slower this time, more deliberate, as if you’d forgotten. “and you hate being overheard.”
you shrugged, arching your back slightly, enough to grind your hips closer to his face again. “maybe i changed my mind.”
his eyes flicked to your cunt, then back up to your face. now it was no longer just disbelief. it was almost possessive.
“well i don’t want him to hear you.”
the words were flat. he meant it.
you blinked, breath catching.
“i don’t want anyone hearing what you sound like when i’ve got you like this,” he continued, leaning in until you could feel the heat of his breath against your inner thigh.
you bit your lip, the heat rising in your face. in your chest.
“but…” you started. “you always do what i want.”
that did it.
you watched his jaw clench tighter, watched the tension rise in his shoulders, watched the composure crack. just a little.
felix rose slowly, and settled over you, forearm bracketing your head, chest brushing yours as he leveled his face just above yours.
you felt it instantly.
gone was the usual ease in his posture, the pliant softness you always leaned into. what loomed above you now wasn’t your sweet, sunny felix—it was the part of him he always held back, the part that simmered under the surface like magma, until you poked at it.
and tonight you’d done nothing but poke.
he leaned in again, slow, like a feline in tall grass, and planted his palm flat against the mattress beside your head.
“you really think i don’t know?”
you swallowed hard.
“that you’ve been bratty for days,” he said, “flirting with that guy at dinner. cutting your hand because you couldn’t stand that i didn’t break. ”
your cheeks flamed, breath catching, but you still held the edge in your smile.
“i was distracted that time—”
his hand moved fast, gripping your jaw, enough to make you stop talking.
“don’t,” he said. “don’t give me that look.”
your heart kicked up behind your ribs. he’d never grabbed your face like that before. never interrupted nor spoke like that.
it made your thighs press together. instinctive.
and he noticed.
he dipped closer, forehead brushing yours, and you could feel his heart beating in time with yours.
“you think i haven’t been watching you push?” he hissed. “every. little. act.”
you whimpered, lips parting, but he kept going.
“you’ve been begging for this,” he said, biting out the words. “not out loud. but with every goddamn thing you’ve done.”
you shivered.
“and you think i don’t see you?” he growled. “you think i don’t know exactly what that look means?”
his fingers tightened on your jaw, tilting your face toward his—close enough to kiss, but he didn’t. he just held you there, breath brushing your lips, eyes burning through you.
“tell me the truth,” he said, voice a warning, a promise. “tell me what you want.”
you could barely breathe.
your voice came out thin, cracked around the edges. “you, like this…” your eyes were wide, lashes wet, trembling as you looked up at him. “this is what i want.”
felix didn’t flinch.
he just stared, his grip on your jaw unrelenting, eyes dark and unforgiving as they searched your face.
“of course it is,” he said flatly.
you blinked.
he tilted your face up a little more, so much that it hurt your neck to hold the position. his voice dropped. “look at you. shaking like a leaf, soaking the fucking sheets—just because i stopped being nice.”
you winced.
his words were true. and he knew it. you weren’t just turned on. you were feral. dripping and desperate, your shame crawling over your skin like fire ants.
“you’re pathetic,” he said, letting go of your jaw.
he pushed you back roughly. his hands were already on your thighs, spreading them open without care. not gentle.
like you were his and he was sick of pretending otherwise.
“you want to be hated, don’t you? love isn’t it for you?” he muttered, gaze locked on your slick cunt as he stroked two fingers through the mess between your legs.
your hips bucked.
“well,” felix said, voice like gravel dragged slow across glass, “if that’s what you want…”
his fingers sank into you—two at once, fast, merciless. your body jolted, a high cry tearing from your throat before you could stop it. he twisted his wrist.
“i’ll give it to you.”
you gasped, back arching. “y-you don’t mean that,” you choked, words splintering on a sob. “you love me—”
“i’m gonna fuck you like i don’t.” he said, without softness.
his fingers pulled free. you barely had a second to breathe before he shoved your thighs wide, leaned over, and pressed his cock to your dripping cunt.
he was right at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing just enough to make you squirm, to make your hips buck in desperate little jerks that only dragged the moment out longer. he could’ve slammed in. could’ve torn the rest of you open in a single thrust, left you breathless and sobbing.
but he didn’t.
because under all that dark fire, under the roughness and anger, he was still him. still good. still your felix.
he blinked, and for a second, just a second, you saw the question flicker through his expression.
“is that what you want?” he asked.
he was still offering you a way out. still giving you that choice even though the answer was very much clear. you knew it for what it was.
you nodded, frantic. fast. whining as you tried to roll your hips, tried to force him inside, but his grip on your thigh only tightened.
“talk to me,” he rasped, a thread of control still clinging to him.
you blinked at him through the haze, a smile curling on your lips.
“yes,” you said, voice thin and greedy. “yes, i want it. i want you to fuck me like you’re sick of me. like i finally got under your skin.”
his cock pushed in deep, slow at first. he wanted to draw it out, make it last.
“you did,” he growled, pulling back and slamming in hard enough to make the bed jolt, your cry piercing the room. “you fucking did.”
his hips snapped forward again. it was harder this time, the rhythm punching out choked sounds from your throat with every thrust. not words anymore. just ragged little whimpers, helpless and high, your whole body jostling beneath him as he used you—fucked you—with none of the gentleness you’d always known.
“you wanted this,” he spat, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his hairline onto your chest as he put your ankles over his shoulders. “you fucking asked for it.”
he growled as he looked down at you, at the tears rolling over your cheeks, at the way your mouth opened and closed.
you met his glare with a slight smirk, eyes glazed and bratty to your last breath.
“i never knew you were capable of being mean,” you gasped, voice cracking as you arched under him.
he groaned and slammed in so deep you screamed, your entire body jolting up the bed from the force of it.
“because i love you,” he growled, voice so low it scraped the inside of your chest. “i’ve only ever tried to treat you well. like you matter. like you’re everything to me.”
he leaned in closer, one hand pressing hard into your hip, the other curling around your throat.
“but that’s not what you wanted, was it?” he dipped lower, lips barely brushing yours. “you wanted this. you wanted me mean. you wanted me to use you, and now you’ve got it.”
his cock dragged out slow, and then drove back in so hard your moan broke on your tongue.
“you never wanted soft.”
you blinked up at him, tears hot and sticky down your temples, your mouth quivering.
“i was—” you panted, a hiccupped cry catching in your chest, “i was trying to prove a point.”
he sneered, not stopping, pounding into you like he wanted to fuck the brat right out of your soul.
“to who, y/n?” he hissed, words snapping like whips.
you moaned, high and messy, because you were still so turned on.
“who?” he shouted again, voice rising.
and you said it.
rather, whimpered it.
half-mindless, but not mindless enough.
“seungmin.”
felix went still.
then he laughed, bitterly
“fucking knew it,” he muttered, more to himself than you, jaw tight as he gave a small, almost deranged shake of his head. “you and him. the way you bicker. the way you look at each other. of course you’d moan his name out while i’m balls deep in you.”
you whimpered out, trying to say something along the lines of sorry.
“here i am,” he snarled, voice dropping to a whisper, “loving you dearly. holding you when you cry.”
he slammed into you again and you screamed, head snapping back.
“and you’ve been pushing me,” he said, voice quiet, almost calm—but beneath it, something was cracking.
another thrust, hard and fast, punching a choked cry out of your lungs.
“all of that just to prove a point to kim seungmin?”
your mouth dropped open. it was useless and silent, your head lolling on the pillow as his cock hit that deep, devastating spot again and again, your body unable to hide how badly you were still enjoying it.
he sneered. “do you even understand what you’re doing?”
your eyes flicked to him—lashes soaked—and your lips moved, trying to form a denial. but you couldn’t lie.
“i-i wasn’t trying to—” you whispered, but he cut you off.
“you weren’t trying? you’re worse than i thought,” he spat, pulling out just enough to let the next thrust slam in deeper. “you don’t even know what game you’re playing. you’re playing me, you’re playing him—”
you didn’t know anymore.
if he was really mad. if this was just another version of his anger wrapped in arousal, or if something had actually shattered under the weight of everything you’d done. you couldn’t tell if he meant the things he said—or if he was just saying them because it was what you’d pushed for until something inside him snapped.
all you knew was that your head was spinning, your lungs barely worked, and your body couldn’t stop trembling around him.
“i’m close,” you whimpered, your voice a rasp, broken and high and soaked in panic, “felix, please—”
he didn’t slow. if anything, he fucked you harder.
you were sobbing now, face sticky with tears, wrists straining in the binds as your body shook from the pressure curling tighter and tighter in your belly.
“i’m sorry,” you cried, the words tumbling out, raw and hoarse and true. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it, i didn’t, felix, please, i’m so sorry, let me cum—"
“shut up.”
you bit your lip to silence a sob. he looked down at your flushed face.
he cursed under his breath. a low, ragged sound.
“do you think you deserve it?” he bit out.
you shook your head, “no,” you gasped, barely a whisper.
“you know your place.”
your cunt clenched around him, a helpless flutter, and he groaned, rolling his hips harder into yours.
“i'll be generous so go on then,” he snarled. “cum for me.”
once you heard those words you came with a muffled scream as you covered your mouth with your hand. it hit so hard you thought for a second you might black out. felix groaned. a sound ripped from the very pit of his chest, his pace faltering for the first time as he felt it.
“fuck,” he hissed, rutting through the mess of your orgasm, the loud slap of his hips against your soaked skin. “you’re making such a mess.”
he shuddered against you, hips twitching as he came inside of you a few thrusts later, filling you. then, gently, slowly, his body folded over yours. his forehead pressed your neck as he stayed there, breathing with you.
he slipped his cock out and you whimpered from the loss.
“i love you, felix.”
he was still breathing hard against your neck.
“i love you so much, baby.” he whispered, voice hoarse against your throat.
his lips pressing over yours as you kissed him back gently. when he pulled away, you blinked up at him, dazed.
“again?”
the next morning, you woke up sore. the sheets around you were a little crooked, the pillow beside you empty.
you blinked blearily and reached for your phone, but something else caught your eye.
there was a note. folded and sitting neatly on the nightstand.
recording right now, but i’ll be back soon. pour yourself a cup of coffee. i love you! – lix ♡
you smiled and stretched out your limbs, wincing slightly at the ache before dragging yourself out of bed and into one of felix’s oversized sweaters and boxers.
barefoot and quietly smug, you padded down the hallway into the kitchen.
and there he was.
seungmin.
leaning against the counter in sweats and a hoodie, eyes fixed on his phone, coffee half-drunk on the table beside him. he looked up when he heard you and you did what anyone would do after getting absolutely obliterated in the next room over by his bandmate.
you pretended nothing happened.
“morning,” you said, voice light, moving straight to the coffee pot. “didn’t think you’d be up.”
“i’ve been up,” he said simply.
you nodded and reached for a mug—felix’s, the pale blue one with the tiny chip in the rim—and poured yourself a cup. steam curled up around your face, and you focused on it like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
and then you felt it.
his presence. he stepped closer. closer.
seungmin reached over your shoulder and set something on the counter in front of you.
sixty bucks in cash.
you stared at the bills for a second.
then turned.
slowly.
seungmin was already taking a sip of his coffee, eyes flicking to yours over the rim of his mug.
“congrats.”
your mouth twitched, the corner pulling into the smallest smile.
you looked down at the cash again and without saying anything, you plucked the bills off the counter and shoved them straight into the front pocket of felix’s hoodie like you’d just been handed your trophy.
“you really thought i wouldn’t pull it off?” you asked, turning back to your coffee, tone breezy.
“i hoped you wouldn’t,” he deadpanned. “i was rooting for the soft boy.”
you huffed a laugh, lifting the mug to your lips. “he’s still soft.”
seungmin gave you a long, dry look.
you shrugged, eyes twinkling over the rim. “...just not all the time.”
he snorted.
then leaned back against the counter, sipping slow from his mug. “so,” he said casually, “how’d you do it?”
“do what?”
“make him snap.”
you licked your lips, fighting another smile. “i might’ve… slipped your name in there a few times.”
his eyes narrowed, slow. “yeah?”
“it got him pretty worked up.” you said, laughing as you set the mug down. seungmin stared for a beat.
then—he rolled his eyes. “of course it did.”
there was a long pause. you didn't know what to make of it.
he said, quiet but clear, “tell him he doesn’t have anything to worry about.”
you nodded.
“i will.”
you stepped back slowly, letting the silence hold, and turned toward the hallway when the front door clicked open.
both your heads turned.
felix stepped in, hair tied back, hoodie sleeves bunched at his elbows, a little windblown from the walk. his eyes lit up the moment he saw you.
“hey, angel,” he said, smile so warm it melted straight into your ribs.
you crossed the room in a few slow steps, rising onto your toes to meet him halfway. your hand curled around his jaw, thumb brushing the skin just below his cheekbone, and you kissed him.
his other hand found your waist immediately, pulling you in as he smiled against your lips. he pulled away just enough to wrap his arms around you, tucking you into his chest. his chin rested lightly on top of your head, breath warm as it fanned through your hair.
you melted into him, your hands slipping under the hem of his hoodie, fingertips grazing the bare skin at his waist.
when you pulled back first, you reached into the pocket of his hoodie. he watches you with mild curiosity until you pull your hand out again, pinching a few folded bills between your fingers.
“i’ll treat you today,” you announced, very pleased with yourself. “we'll go somewhere nice for lunch."
felix’s gaze flicked from the money, to your face, then over your shoulder. straight to seungmin.
there’s a beat where he just stands there, processing it all, and then he laughed. he shook his head, eyes crinkling at the corners.
“i wonder where you got that from.” he said, still smiling.
you huff, shoulders slumping a little as you tuck the bills back toward your pocket. you jabbed a finger into felix's chest.
