KIM LEE

The kitchen doorway was already a hazard zone, but that hadn’t stopped Felix from backing you straight up against the edge of the kitchen island while the rest of the house was in full, roaring swing just fifteen feet away.

Dinner was supposed to be hitting the dining table in ten minutes. The television in the living room was blasting some weekend variety show, your dad and Mr. Lee were in the middle of a loud, animated debate about football, and Mrs. Kim and Mrs. Lee were out on the back patio adjusting the patio heaters. Which left the kitchen momentarily clear of parental supervision—an opening Felix had exploited with zero shame.

You had only stepped away to fetch an extra bowl of freshly sliced strawberries and cream, but Felix had followed you in like a shadow, tall, effortless, and wearing that oversized charcoal knit sweater that made his broad shoulders look impossible to ignore.

"Careful, love," his voice dropped down into that absurdly deep, gravelly register right against the shell of your ear, sending a slow, electric shudder straight down your spine. One of his large, ringed hands planted itself flat on the marble counter right beside your hip, effectively caging you in, while his other hand reached around your waist, fingers splaying wide across the small of your back to reel you an inch closer. "You've been ignoring me out there all evening. Thought I had priority boarding on your attention."

"Felix, my entire family is in the next room," you murmured, tilting your head back to meet those warm, hooded brown eyes that were sparkling with absolute mischief. "If someone walks in—"

"Let them walk in," he breathed, a slow, cocky smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His thumb traced a lazy, distracting circle against your hip through your shirt, his gaze dropping to your mouth with deliberate, unhurried intent. "We've been married three whole years, baby. If they haven't figured out by now that I can't keep my hands off you, that's a Kim family comprehension issue, not mine."

He dipped his head, cool nose skimming along the sensitive curve of your jawline, his warm breath fanning across your skin before he nipped lightly at your pulse point—just enough pressure to draw a sharp gasp from your lips, right before his mouth hovered a mere breath away from yours. "Now give me a proper kiss before I have to sit across from your seven loud brothers and pretend I'm civilized."

"Oh, look at that! The live entertainment has started, someone fetch the popcorn!"

The theatrical shout shattered the moment like glass.

Jin was standing dead center in the arched doorway, holding an empty salad bowl like a megaphone to his mouth and clutching his chest with an expression of pure, unadulterated horror.

"My eyes! My pure, unblemished eyes in my mother’s holy sanctuary!" Jin wailed, turning around to yell toward the living room at the top of his lungs. "Security! Code red! We have illegal public displays of affection occurring next to the banchan!"

Within three seconds, the hallway thundered with footsteps.

Jungkook was the first to round the corner, sliding on his socks and stopping dead in his tracks with a look of theatrical disgust. "Disgusting. Felix, bro, have some standards. You live with {{user}} every single day, do you have to do this in front of my salad?"

"I feel sick," Jimin groaned, leaning against the doorframe right behind Jungkook, though the massive, devious smirk on his face betrayed every word. He folded his arms, eyes darting between you and Felix with gleaming amusement. "Look at {{user}}'s face. Red as a tomato. Felix, did you break them already? Should we get the fire extinguisher?"

Taehyung sauntered in next, casually taking a strawberry right out of the bowl on the counter, giving you a slow, pitying head shake. "Tragic. Three years and you still blush like a schoolgirl when he uses that basement-level voice on you. Weak. Utterly weak."

"I told you," Yoongi’s voice drifted dryly from the back of the pack as he leaned against the dining table, sipping his iced water without even blinking. "Felix learned early on that if he distracts {{user}} with that pretty face, they won't notice he burnt the morning toast. It’s basic survival psychology."

"Hey, the toast was golden brown, Yoongi-hyung," Felix shot back without missing a single beat, completely unbothered by the seven grown men crowding the kitchen entrance.

Instead of stepping away or looking sheepish, Felix let out a low, amused chuckle against your neck, deliberately tightening his arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest just to watch your brothers wince. He slowly turned his head toward the doorway, flashing them a lazy, blinding smile that practically radiated smug satisfaction.

"You guys talk a lot of game for a bunch of bachelors who have to share a remote control on a Saturday night," Felix drawled, his deep Aussie accent cutting smoothly through the uproar. He tapped the tip of your nose with his free hand, his gaze lingering on your flustered face with sheer, affectionate adoration before glancing back at the peanut gallery. "Now, unless one of you is volunteering to carry the heavy soup pot to the table, scram. We were in the middle of something important."

The second-floor hallway was supposed to be completely deserted.

Downstairs, the house was alive with peak weekend chaos. The TV was blaring, your dad and Mr. Lee were laughing over tea, and Mrs. Kim and Mrs. Lee were busy setting out dessert plates with Jin. You had only ducked upstairs to your old childhood bedroom to grab a phone charger, but Felix had slipped in right behind you, clicking the door shut with a quiet, dangerous snick.

Within ten seconds, you were backed entirely against the closed wooden door, Felix’s broad frame caging you in, hands resting heavy and warm on your waist. Three years of marriage hadn't dulled that electric spark between you two even a fraction. His deep, velvet laugh rumbled against your skin as he dipped his head, cool silver rings brushing your collarbone while his lips trailed slow, heated kisses up the sensitive arch of your neck.

"Felix, seriously, wait," you whispered, breathless, fingers tangling in the soft, ash-blonde waves at the nape of his neck even as you tried to nudge him back. "Someone is going to come looking for us—"

"Let them look, love," he murmured against your jaw, his deep Aussie drawl practically buzzing through your ribs. His hands slid up under the hem of your sweater, warm palms searing against the bare skin of your waist, reeling you impossibly closer. "You've been across the room from me all night. Five minutes. Just give me five—"

BAM.

The bedroom door handle jiggled violently, followed by a heavy shoulder slamming straight into the wood from the hallway.

"Hey! {{user}}! Did you fall into a portal, where’s the extra board game—what the hell?!"

The door shoved open halfway, jarring Felix’s shoulder forward and breaking the kiss instantly.

Standing in the hallway was Jungkook, holding a stack of Uno cards, mouth hanging wide open in utter, paralyzed shock. Right behind him, Jimin and Taehyung came skidding around the corner on their socks, looking like two bloodhounds that had just caught the scent of absolute social destruction.

"Holy—" Jimin gasped, clapping both hands over his face, his eyes popping wide with vicious, ecstatic glee. "Oh my god. Oh my god!"

"RED ALERT! CODE RED IN THE MASTER WING!" Taehyung bellowed at the absolute top of his lungs, cupping his hands around his mouth like a town crier. "THEY’RE IN HERE MAKING OUT LIKE TEENAGERS BEHIND A CONVENIENCE STORE!"

"Shut up! Tae, shut your mouth!" you hissed, your face instantly erupting into flames as you scrambled to smooth your rumpled sweater down.

Felix, on the other hand, barely even stumbled. He took a single step back, casually running a hand through his slightly mussed hair, breathing just a little heavier than usual. But instead of looking sheepish, that infuriating, devastatingly smug smirk curved right over his pink, swollen lips.

"In our parents' house?!" Jin’s voice shrieked from the base of the stairs before heavy, thundering footsteps came charging up the wooden steps. Jin appeared in the doorway looking like an offended Victorian ghost, spatula still clutched in hand. "On the anniversary of my birth month?! Have you no shame?! In {{user}}'s childhood bedroom with the sailor moon posters?!"

"Under my roof? Before dessert?" Yoongi's dry voice drifted from the hallway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, shaking his head with mock pity. "Have some class, Felix. At least lock the door properly."

"Hyung, the lock has been broken since middle school and you know it," Felix retorted smoothly, not an ounce of guilt in that gravelly baritone.

With seven brothers crowding the narrow doorway pointing, laughing, and roasting you both, Felix deliberately stepped right back into your personal space. He slung a heavy, possessive arm over your shoulders, pulling your burning face straight against his chest in full view of the audience.

His eyes gleamed with pure, cheeky defiance as he looked at your brothers. "Three years married, boys. If you don't knock before barging into a room, whatever trauma you witness is entirely on you."

The living room was loud enough to drown out a jet engine, which made the absolute quiet terror of your phone screen ten times more intoxicating—until the illusion of safety shattered into pieces.

Dinner had wrapped up an hour ago, leaving the family scattered across the wide living space. Your dad and Mr. Lee were locked into a heated game of baduk by the bay window, Mrs. Kim and Mrs. Lee were laughing over mugs of roasted corn tea in the open kitchen, and your brothers were sprawled across the carpet around the coffee table. To keep the peace earlier, Jin had declared a "PDA moratorium" and physically claimed the middle cushion of the main sofa, separating you and Felix.

So now, you were curled up on the loveseat with a fleece throw draped over your lap, while Felix was sitting directly opposite you on the large armchair across the coffee table, one long leg slung lazily over the armrest.

On the surface, Felix looked like the picture of innocent, golden-retriever charm. But under the table, his thumb had been lighting up your screen with messages that made your blood run white-hot.

Buzz.

Felix [8:49 PM]: Keep looking at me like that, love, and I’m carrying you to the car before dessert even hits the table.

Buzz.

Felix [8:50 PM]: Thinking about what you sound like when you whisper in my ear. Thinking about taking that knit dress off you the second we get through our front door.

Your stomach did a violent, breathless flip. Your face was burning so intensely you had to bite down hard on the inside of your lip to keep from making a sound. You had your phone half-hidden beneath the fleece throw, your fingers flying across the keyboard to tell him to behave—when a sudden shadow fell completely over your shoulder.

"Whatcha looking at, {{user}}?"

Jungkook’s voice dropped like a bomb right next to your ear.

You gasped, your heart launching into your throat, and scrambled to slam the screen facedown onto your lap. But Jungkook had already leaned all the way over the back of the loveseat, clutching a half-empty soda can, his sharp eyes having caught the glaringly bright screen at a direct angle.

The color visibly drained from Jungkook's face for half a second. Then, his eyes blew wide like dinner plates, a look of pure, unadulterated psychic damage washing over his features before twisting into horrific realization.

"NO. NO WAY." Jungkook stumbled backward off the sofa, clutching his head with both hands like he had just witnessed a war crime. "NO. CALL THE POLICE. SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE RIGHT NOW."

"What? What happened?" Jimin whipped around from the floor, abandoning his controller instantly.

"THEY’RE SEXTING!" Jungkook shrieked, pointing an accusing, trembling finger straight at you, his voice cracking dramatically into the upper registers. "THEY ARE SITTING THREE FEET APART IN MY MOTHER'S HOUSE AND THEY ARE SEXTING EACH OTHER!"

The entire living room came to a screeching, frozen halt.

"THEY ARE WHAT?!" Jin’s roar rattled the glassware in the display cabinet. He dropped his bowl of peeled tangerines right onto the coffee table, shooting to his feet like an offended Victorian schoolmarm. "IN FRONT OF MY SALAD?! IN FRONT OF OUR PARENTS?!"

"Wait, let me see!" Taehyung scrambled across the rug on his hands and knees like a feral raccoon, lunging toward your couch to snatch your phone.

"Don't touch it, Tae, you'll get contaminated!" Hoseok yelled, burying his face into a sofa throw cushion and screeching with breathless, hysterical laughter while kicking his feet wildly in the air. "Oh my god, look at {{user}}'s face! They're purple! They're actually glowing purple!"

"I am going to throw up," Jimin groaned, dramatically sliding off the sofa onto the rug and staring up at the ceiling like his soul had evacuated his body. "Felix, look me in the eye. Look your hyung in the eye. Are you insane?! You live together! You share a mortgage!"

Across the table, while you were sinking as low into the couch cushions as humanly possible wishing the earth would swallow you whole, Felix didn’t even flinch.

A slow, devastating blush dusted the tops of his freckled cheekbones, betraying him just a fraction, but that signature, cheeky Aussie confidence took over instantly. He leaned back into the armchair, resting his chin on his palm, his deep baritone cutting through the deafening roar of your seven brothers with complete, smooth amusement.

"Hey, don't look at me," Felix said, flashing them a lazy, blinding smirk, his eyes glinting with sheer, unrepentant mischief. "I didn't invite Kook to look over {{user}}'s shoulder. That's on him for being nosy."

"Don't deflect, Lee Felix!" Jin yelled, clutching his chest with both hands. "You used words! He saw words! What happened to your sweet Australian boy image?! Mrs. Lee, come get your corrupt son!"

From across the room, Mr. Kim quietly hid his massive, laughing grin behind his mug of tea, while Mr. Lee simply chuckled into his hand, neither parent bothering to step into the sibling firing squad.

Felix only laughed—that low, velvety rumble vibrating through the chaos—before casually reaching across the small gap between your seats. In plain, horrifying view of all seven of your screeching brothers, his warm fingers firmly laced through your freezing, mortified hand, giving your knuckles a firm, wicked squeeze.

"Three years married, boys," Felix drawled smoothly, shooting you an impossibly fond, teasing wink over the noise. "If you don't want to see how the sausage gets made, stop reading our mail."

The second-floor guest room was supposed to be completely off-limits while the parents were downstairs finishing tea.

You had slipped away to touch up your makeup and escape the sheer decibel level of your seven brothers in the living room. But Felix had followed you like a phantom, shutting the door just enough so it clicked against the latch—leaving it unthinkingly unbolted.

Within thirty seconds, your back was pinned against the vanity, makeup compact long forgotten.

Felix had your waist bracketed tightly between his hands, his tall frame leaning over you, caging you in against the marble counter. Three years of marriage had only made him bolder, greedier, completely immune to the fact that you were under your parents’ roof. His deep, velvet baritone dropped straight down into that dangerous, gravelly basement register that vibrated directly against your collarbone.

"You spent the whole dinner letting your brothers sit between us," Felix rumbled against your throat, teeth grazing the warm, sensitive skin right under your jaw until a ragged gasp broke from your lips. His fingers dug firmly into your hips, hitching your hem higher as he pulled you flush against his chest. "You think I didn’t notice you squirming in your chair every time I looked at you across the table, baby?"

"Felix, keep your voice down, someone’s going to—"

"I don't give a damn who hears," he growled softly, cutting you off, his mouth moving greedily over the curve of your neck to nip at your pulse point. His voice was thick with unvarnished, filthy possessiveness. "I’ve spent three hours watching your lips wrap around dessert spoons while your loud family wouldn't let me touch you. The second we get home, I’m tearing this dress straight down the seam. You're going to beg me to let you catch your breath, sweetheart, and I’m taking my time with every inch of you."

"Felix—" you whimpered, fingers knotting desperately into the soft knit of his sweater, your head falling back as his hands slid boldly up your thighs, gripping you with bruising heat.

"Say my name again like that," Felix whispered harshly, his lips hovering an agonizing millimeter from yours, breathing your air, his tone filthy and unapologetically heavy. "Whimper for me just like that, and I won't even wait for the car. I'll take you right over this vanity and let your brothers hear exactly how hard you—"

KICK.

The bedroom door didn't just open; it flew backward on its hinges with an ear-splitting CRACK, rebounding off the drywall.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF JESUS, MARY, AND JOSEPH?!" Jin shrieked at the top of his lungs, standing in the doorway holding a stack of clean towels like a shield against his chest, his face completely drained of color before turning a violent, catastrophic magenta. "MY EARS! MY VIRGIN EARS ARE BLEEDING OUT IN THE GUEST WING!"

Behind him, an entire human pileup of your brothers spilled through the entrance.

Jungkook stumbled over Jin’s heels, a half-eaten tangerine dropping straight out of his hand and rolling across the carpet as his jaw hit the floor. "TEAR THE DRESS?! HE SAID TEAR THE DRESS RIGHT OVER THE VANITY!"

"I AM PHYSICALLY BLIND! I AM PSYCHOLOGICALLY DECEASED!" Jimin screamed, clutching his face with both hands and literally dropping to his knees in the hallway, writhing in pure agony on the rug. "TAEHYUNG, CALL AN AMBULANCE, MY SOUL JUST EVACUATED MY BODY!"

Taehyung was frozen in place, eyes bugging out like dinner plates, hands clamped over both ears while he stared at Felix like he was looking at an escaped convict. "IN OUR MOTHER'S GUEST ROOM! ON OUR GRANDMOTHER'S ANTIQUE VANITY! HE TALKS LIKE THAT?! FELIX TALKS LIKE THAT?!"

"Someone pour bleach directly into my cerebral cortex," Yoongi’s voice drifted in from the back, leaning heavily against the doorframe, pinching the bridge of his nose with a look of utter, cosmic exhaustion. "I knew the Australian boy was a menace, but this is a federal crime."

"I need holy water! Namjoon, recite a prayer!" Hoseok shrieked, bouncing on his heels in pure, hysterical chaos, slapping Namjoon’s shoulder repeatedly while gasping for breath. "He said 'beg me to let you catch your breath'! Beg me! Felix, you sick, shameless animal!"

You wished for the floor to open up and swallow you down to the earth's core. Your face was burning so intensely it felt on fire, frantically trying to yank your dress down and untangle yourself from Felix's grip.

Felix, however, didn't let you go.

A sudden, deep crimson blush rushed to the tips of his freckled ears, betraying that he hadn't planned on an audience of seven grown men listening to his filthy monologue. But instead of backing down, that signature, cheeky Aussie arrogance flared straight up.

Felix slowly turned his head toward the chaotic gallery in the doorway, keeping one possessive arm locked rock-solid around your waist, pulling you securely against his side. His deep, unbothered smirk curved right across his swollen lips.

"Do any of you knock before barging through a door, or is home invasion a Kim family hobby?" Felix drawled, his gravelly baritone smooth and totally unapologetic despite the roaring chaos. He looked Jin dead in the eye, gave your hip a deliberate, firm squeeze in front of everyone, and winked. "Close the door on your way out, hyung. The vanity hasn't even been broken in yet."