DON'T MAKE ME MAD

- in which pissing off hoseok during dance rehearsals turns out to be the best idea you've had in a while; smut warning!

Huffing, you spread yourself out on the cool yet sticky floor, your chest rising up and down in uneven patterns as you find it becoming a struggle to get air into your system, each breath burning through your throat and lungs as if you had swallowed fire. Lazily rolling your head to the side, you spot an equally burned out looking Hoseok leaning against the fogged up mirror, beads of sweat decorating his skin as his expression twists into something that can only be described as sour.

Deciding that you should probably look away, you find yourself unable to when his darkened eyes meets yours, the silence in the room more suffocating than your struggle to breath with neither of you showing any sign of making a move to break the awkward eye contact.

Swallowing thickly, you manage to shut your eyes, using your tiredness as an excuse when you begin to question why you did so. Thinking that you may get some rest with Hoseok staying oddly quiet, you make yourself comfortable on the floor just as he clears his throat.

"Get up, Y/N, it's been ten minutes already. We have to practice," he orders as he pushes himself off the mirror and takes slow steps until he's in front of you, staring you down as if daring you to object.

"I don't think so. It's past 10 at night and I am absolutely exhausted. If I so much as move another inch, I may die and I am not willing to take the risk," you exclaim dramatically, rolling yourself so that your stomach is pressed against the floor, eyes immediately travelling up to meet the sight of your reflection in the mirror.

To say that you look like a mess would be a severe understatement: your hair is falling from its bun on top of your head, several strands stuck to the side of your face with sweat, you're sweatier than you've ever been before, there being multiple damp spots on your shirt and your lips are dry and chapped from dehydration while your stomach growls for some food.

It is clear to you now that spending over nine hours in the studio certainly takes its toll on you.

He crouches down beside you, meeting your reflection's gaze with a ghost smile tracing the outline of your lips as his hand makes contact with your behind for a friendly pat, your eyes widening at the action as he speaks.

"Come on, stop being dramatic. We can practice the choreo at ten more times tonight and then head home," he explains as you groan in refusal and bury your face into your arms, curling yourself up into a small ball as you shake your head slowly.

"Hoseok, please. We've been here for over nine hours already and I can't do this anymore. I'm not a professional dancer so the choreo is ripping me to shreds. Please, let's just go home. I think we both need some food and sleep," you whine as you roll onto your side, your back facing him as you continue to ignore the pats on your butt.

"Go away," you mumble sleepily, your heavy eyes finally giving in as they slowly flutter shut, hoping that the chances of you walking out of this studio without doing the dance another ten times isn't as slim as it's shaping out to be.

He rolls his eyes, leaning over you to tightly grip onto your wrists and pull you up to stand, ignoring your immediate groans of pain as your muscles burn from the simple movement. Now feeling numb, you yank your wrists out of his hold and stumble to your belongings that are dumped onto the couch, swiping them up in your arms before making a beeline to the door that's right next to mirror that Hoseok now leans on.

"Are you really going to do this, Y/N?" His tone of voice changes, this particular one sending delicious shivers down your spine. Although, there is little you can do about it, already so close to leaving his apartment-dance studio that not even his serious and deep tone of voice can get you to stay.

You force yourself to keep moving while seriously doubting that the conversation is just going to end so easily. The validity of your thoughts are proven when he pushes himself off the mirror and moves towards the door, clutching onto your wrist before you can leave.

"It's not the dance or the exhaustion, is it?" he speaks teasingly, dropping your wrist as you turn to face him with your eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"There's another reason why you're so out of it, isn't there? It's because there have been a lot of other things that haven't happened during our practice sessions," he smirks as he folds his arms across his chest, looking quite pleased with what he's supposedly figured out. "I'm right, aren't I?"

Squinting at him, you tilt your head to the side. "I really hope you're not insinuating what I think you are, Hoseok. I really do."

Despite your words, in three intimidating steps, he stands in front of you, hands gripping onto your bag as he tosses it to the floor, watching as you gulp when you hear it hit the wall on the opposite side of the room.

So he's pissed. Good.

You contain your eager smile and look up at him, staring him down with a convincing glare.

"And what if I am right? All of a sudden you're acting bratty and you refuse to obey me," he hums as his gently grip your arms and run down your smooth skin until they reach your palms which he holds onto as he guides them to his waist and chest, lips twitching when you refused to let him guide them to his neck.

Brushing your refusal aside, he cups your face with his right hand. "Have I neglected you, baby?"

He leans in, warm breath fanning across your face, making you involuntarily bat your eyelashes, closing your eyes for only a second. However, it's only that second that gets a smirk growing on his face.

"No, it's not about that. It's about how you treat me as a person," you lie as you weakly push at his arms, knowing very well that his assumption was partially correct. Besides, his attitude towards you isn't even that bad as you know that he's just striving for perfection.

"Mhm," he mumbles in mocking approval before pushing you back until you reach the uneven part of the wall where it transitions into mirror, trapping you there. His lips immediately find yours, melting against them as your hands fist his wet t-shirt, whimpering into his open mouth. Your eyes flutter shut in response to his sudden kiss, his fingers digging at the side of your neck causing you to tilt your head at an angle that's just right.

He pulls away moments later, licking his lips hungrily as his smirk grows wider upon sight of your blissfully dazed expression and the feel of your chest rising and falling in heavy pants against his.

"So I'm wrong, hm?" He teases, his free hand running down your side to stop at your hip, squeezing it for emphasis. You groan quietly, rolling your eyes as you pull him down by his shirt to press another kiss to his lips which he eagerly returns, but not before dipping his hand underneath the material of your t-shirt and into the band of your sweatpants, his gentle touch against your warm skin making you jolt, the smirk in response to your reaction evident in the kiss.

You flick open your eyes for a second to shoot him a glare while he wastes no time in deepening the kiss, pushing your head fully into his supporting hand and against the wall, the fingers of his other hand slipping into your underwear.

You moan sinfully into his mouth and arch your back, whimpering when his fingers ghost over your clit before dipping lower. A guttural sound of surprise leaves his lips, the action causing him to pull away; instead choosing to breathe heavily against your lips, lustful eyes boring into yours.

"What a nice surprise," he chuckles, pulling his hand out to show you the stickiness that coats his fingers, your embarrassment obvious through the immediate shade of red your cheeks flush. "Are you this wet because of our little argument?"

He nuzzles his face against your neck when you defiantly shake your head and attempt to look away.

"Hmm, are you sure?" He purrs, smirking against the smooth skin on your long neck. "Because it sure as hell feels like arguing with me really turns you on."

You groan again at his words and glare at him, but as you open your mouth to something in retaliation, he pushes his fingers past your swollen and tingling lips, watching as you seem to instinctively close your mouth around them, your eyes following a similar fashion as they, too, shut as you begin to eagerly suck and swirl your tongue around his digits.

"That's what I thought," he comments before dragging his fingers out of your mouth, allowing you no time to catch your breath as he meshes his lips against yours for the third kiss of the night, both his hands busying themselves with your pants.

In a matter of seconds, he has the warm material of your pants pooling around your legs, a wave of goosebumps decorating your skin as he uses a free hand to lift your left leg up and hook it around his waist while his other hand freely travels up the length of your thigh with a slow appreciation, stopping at your underwear before pulling that down to kick off along with the other leg of your sweatpants.

Now exposed to him, he dips his fingers into your folds, teasing your entrance as you begin to pant into his kiss, your core beginning to throb with need.

"Baby," he whispers against your aching lips, "if this is how you felt, you should've told me so much earlier. We could've avoided so many arguments."

You're about to protest to his statement with something that will explain to him that your want to have sex with him wasn't a thing that existed earlier, but the words falter in your mouth when he finally pushes his fingers inside, slowly beginning to pump them in and out of you, your head rolling back as your vision blurs with stars.

"But then again, I don't think you would've gotten a reason to get so turned on during practice and make me do this," he muses, more to himself than you as you grip onto his forearm, breathing heavily as the pleasure building up inside of you makes your stomach tie itself in a knot.

"This?" You whisper as your eyes flutter shut, head instinctively leaning itself against his chest moments before he pulls his fingers away, leaving your core feeling empty and cold as he decides to pull away completely, watching closely as your face falls.

Chuckling, he grabs you by your shoulders and turns you around, your face pressed up against the mirror as your hot breath fogs up the glass, the hand securely in between your shoulder blades keeping you in place.

"This," he confirms, letting go of you for only a few heart stopping moments as he sheds himself of his shirt, revealing the masterful expanse of his glowing honey skin and toned abs, your mouth practically watering at the sight. Distracted by the way his muscles tense with every move he makes, you don't even realise his hands trembling with desire as he rides himself of his sweatpants and boxers, tossing them over to lay beside yours.

Your eyes widen upon the sight of his hard and glistening member, breath hitching when he lifts the back of your shirt up and guides it against your ass.

"I'm going to give you what you've been begging for," he whispers into your ear, nibbling at your earlobe as his hard on teases your entrance, your back arching into him, trying to get him to touch you more—to put himself inside you—but your efforts are futile because of the way his hands tightly squeeze onto your hips and keep them in place.

"Tell me, Y/N, will you listen to me if I give you what you want?" He teases, gently rubbing his member against your folds as one of his hands pushes under your t-shirt, running up your stomach until it reaches your breast, cupping it in a way that allows his nails to dig into your skin.

"Will you?" He presses, resting his head against yours as he turns your face so that your cheek sticks to the cool glass of the mirror. Whining greedily, you nod, letting the glass beside you fog up as you heave in air, your chest moving rapidly under his hand—his authoritative yet gentle touches igniting something more inside you.

"Good girl," he praises, giving your breast yet another squeeze in reward. "Let's see you prove it then."

He finally takes mercy upon your submissive and writhing form, pushing his cock inside of you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as you release breathy moan into the glass. Involuntarily, your back arches until your butt pushes against his pelvis, a groan of approval falling from his sinfully plump and pink lips.

"I should've known that this was what you were arguing about," he whispers hoarsely, rolling his hips back slowly as you bite into your dry lip before slamming back inside of you. You yelp at the sheer force of the movement, pushing yourself into the glass as his hands trap you in place.

He repeats those same movements one more time, a grunt leaving his lips as his own eyes flutter shut for only a brief moment, your vision hazy as you keep your gaze focused on his reflection in the mirror, taking in the glorious sight behind you.

A loud moan leaves your lips as you struggle to keep your eyes open and take in the view as he starts moving at a punishing pace, pulling out almost all the way every single time, before slamming back in at full force, making your legs shake and your palms smudge with sweat against the mirror as you try to brace yourself.

"You feel so good," he growls in your ear, pushing onto your shoulder blades and pulling your hips backwards, sliding you down the mirror and changing his pace, moving faster, his thrusts shallower but just as powerful, rendering you breathless and begging for more as you keep your eyes glued to his form, feeling the familiar burn of an impending orgasm making itself known inside of you, becoming more evident with each of his thrusts.

"Look at me if you're going to cum," he orders, his hand slipping up your neck and pressing against your mouth, covering it fully despite your panting, forcing your head at angle that makes you have to look downwards for maintain eye contact. You moan at his request, focusing on breathing through your nose and out onto his hand, struggling to keep your eyes open as his thrusts get faster and faster, the sounds of his heavy breathing making it clear to you that he's about to cum as well.

With him panting against your neck, you feel your eyes water with hot tears as you manage to keep them open, feeling a warm wave of pleasure wash over you as you come, releasing a muffled cry into his palm. He drops his hand from your mouth, allowing you to gasp for air, your body shaking as you relish in the feel of it swimming in your lungs, his hands warm as he holds onto your waist and continues moving at a painfully slow speed, your whines and whimpers echoing in the empty dance room from overstimulation as he chases his own release.

It doesn't take much longer for him to finally reach his breaking point, spurts of thick, warm cum filling you up once his hips still against yours, pulling out soon after. He loosens his tight grip on you, carefully positioning your still trembling body so that you now face him.

Tucking his member back into his boxers and quickly slipping into his pants, he helps you do the same, his touch gentle and cautious as you eventually slide down to the floor, your bottom half fully clothed as your lips part, lungs still craving the sweet relief of air. Your eyes involuntarily drool shut, your body beginning to shut itself down as you feel him bring you into his arms and carry you towards what you assume is the couch, sitting down with a soft grunt.

You curl into him as he buries his face in your neck, attempting to regain some of his own breath.

"I'm sorry for being so hard on you. I should've taken your health and exhaustion into consideration. I must be doing a pretty shit job at being a boyfriend," he mutters, apologetically pressing his lips to your soft cheek. You hum in forgiveness, finding some strength in you to reopen your eyes and flash him a tired smile.

"Don't be, it's your job. Besides, I know that you'll be more like a boyfriend outside of the dance studio," you joke with a chuckle, poking his small dimple lazily. "When we're in the studio, however, you're my dance teacher and I should listen to you and all your feedback."

"Glad you realised," he mumbles teasingly, tilting your face towards him so that he can plant the lightest of kisses to your red lips. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"Of course," you whisper. "I wouldn't still be here if you didn't. I love you too."

Grinning, he tucks you into his chest before standing and heading straight for the bathroom to clean up, praising you with the sweetest of nothings the entire way.