aeyla

[aeyla]

Stoner skz is my fav

Indica

1.1k words

warnings! MDNI18+, fem!reader, oral(fem!rec), high cunninglingus, dealer!han

notes! sorry the pictures are small but PLEASE READ THE TEXT MESSAGES THEY ARE PART OF THE FIC. I haven't written in a while and I just wanted to post something to remind ya'll I am alive.

It’s so slow. So slow when Jisung laps his tongue up and down. In any other instance, you’d press the back of his head deeper into your cunt, but with the gentle buzz of weed drumming in your veins, you settle further into the couch and let him go at his speed.

You laughed when you first got the message, but you weren’t entirely surprised. Jisung was always hitting on you when you bought from him, but his flirtatious attempts were more cute than hot. His fumbling hands and stuttering lips were so adorable to watch. He must have worked up the courage to send a text like that. Or he had already smoked it up.

Not that you care which it is. You agreed immediately, teased him when he showed up blushing and pink, then plopped on the couch to roll a joint.

Everything feels so sensitive when you’re high. Jisung’s soft tongue feels blissful swirling on your clit. It feels so big, so fat, so warm. You’re thankful he’s too stoned to do more than suck and lick. You’d be drooling on the pillows and creaming on the sofa otherwise.

The tip of his tongue plays with your entrance. He barely dips it inside before gliding it up, smoothing over the place where you really need him.

You sigh with contentment, widening your legs so Jisung can scoot closer on his knees and wrap his lips around your clit.

He combines sucking and licking, giving you the perfect excuse to buck your hips and whine. Jisung follows your movements, not letting a second of your pussy escape his mouth.

And when you fall back onto the couch, you comb your fingers through his dark hair. “So good. You’re gonna make me cum.”

His boba eyes shoot to yours. You swear you can see hearts in his pupils. Carefully, he pulls away, letting his tongue stick out so he can get a swipe to your clit and make you jolt.

“Yeah?” He bites his lower lip almost innocently despite your juices on his chin. “I-I got cotton mouth real bad right now. I feel like I’m moving so slow.”

You giggle, playing with his strands tenderly. “A little, but I like it. Your tongue’s so soft.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t stop.” You urge him with a soft tug. It doesn’t take much to have him back between your legs, mouth opening with new vigor. His tongue messily plays with your folds, swooping down to collect your arousal and play with it on your clit.

It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. Jisung is determined to make you cum, or maybe he sobered up just enough to eat properly. You almost want to tell him to slow down, but every flick has you reeling. Wet arousal keeps oozing out, sliding down your ass, or getting licked up by Jisung.

You put both your hands in his hair, bringing your knees to your face and looking down to watch him eat.

He looks so good. You can see how his tongue swipes over you, how his lips peck and suck, and the way his cheeks hollow. If you focus enough, you can see the stubble shadow of his mustache.

You clench around nothing. 

“F-fuck.” You whine. “Fuck me, please.”

Jisung looks up but keeps his mouth on your pussy. His eyes are red and big, but there’s determination in them.

He shakes his head and pulls off to spit on your cunt. “Nuh-uh. I’m not done.” His saliva runs down your slit, but he latches his tongue back before it slips down your ass. 

Your eyes roll. Your legs shake in the air, but you keep them spread. “B-but I’mma cum.”

Jisung moans. The vibrations feel so strong, but you know it’s just the weed making it feel like that. His ringed fingers grip the underside of your thighs and it takes a second to feel how wet his right hand is.

Ah, he must have been jerking himself off. 

You want to see it, his aching cock with pre-cum that seeps from the tip. Is he thick? Long? Does he have a smaller dick that you could hump on? Your hazy mind tries desperately to come up with how Jisung looks, but his mouth is glued to your pussy in a way that makes you think he’ll never come off.

“I wan’ taste it. Give it to me please and I’ll fuck you. I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good.” Jisung begs into your pussy. “On my tongue. I wan’ it on my tongue.”

Oh my God. You’ve never met a more pussy-craved man than him. His skilled tongue and eagerness has that warm feeling bubbling in your stomach. His warm breath aids in the pleasure, keeping your cunt hot all the time.

You don’t have to move his head to get him where you want. Despite eating you out for the first time, it’s like he already knows where you like it. Jisung knows when to swirl his tongue, when to suck on your nub, and how to pin your legs so they don’t clamp on his head like you want to.

“Oh my- yes! Yes, fuck! Pleasepleasepleas-”

One of his hands quickly moves to your cunt and you feel two fingers easily slip in. They squelch with the amount of wetness you’re making, but the crude sound has your eyes rolling back.

His tongue doesn’t stop swirling, his lips don’t stop smacking, and his hand fucks you faster than what you were prepared for. The sweet orgasm coils tighter and tighter until you burst, fighting against his grip to squeeze his head between your thighs.

You plant your feet on the edge of the sofa and lift your hips to hump his face, a moan stuck in your throat as you ride out your orgasm.

Jisung puts his hand on your stomach and forces you back down. His fingers have stilled, but you can’t stop clenching on them. And despite your clear orgasm on his fingers and lips, Jisung doesn’t stop.

Finally, the moan you were holding drawls out. 

“Nghhhh! I came. Hannie- Hannie, I came.” 

He whines, moving from your sensitive clit to your stuffed entrance. “B-but I wan’ taste it. Just lemme clean you up and I’ll fuck you, ‘kay? I promise. I promise.” He digs his tongue inside, using his fingers to keep you spread before getting an answer.

But at this point, you don’t care. Your clit’s throbbing and your cunt’s stuffed. With the weed beginning to fade and your mind coming back, you think it’s time for another hit or two.

[aeyla]

Sub!minho is something I didn’t realize I needed so badly in my life 😵‍💫 that was hot

of cats 'n' dogs // l.mh

all you want for christmas is to try your hand at taking control in bed. you didn't think your unwavering boyfriend would agree; but what he didn't expect was to enjoy it this much.

⛓️ PAIRING :: lee minho x f!reader

⛓️ GENRE :: smut

⛓️ WORD COUNT :: 2.2k

⛓️ WARNINGS :: dom!minho tries subbing, bratty sub!minho, soft dom!mc, praise, bondage, oral (m + f), edging, unprotected sex, cum eating, descriptions of subspace

⛓️ NOTE :: 18+ minors dni. the characters don't represent real people. this is fiction for entertainment purposes only. don't edit, copy, repost or otherwise steal my content.

📍 skz masterlist

“Stop teasing," Minho groans when you lick a wet stripe from his navel to the waistband of his shorts. 

"Why? You told me I could do anything I want today, kitten." 

He rolls his eyes at the pet name but you notice the way the tips of his ears turn red. Normally, you’d be in his position: strapped to the bed and at his mercy. He’s always been the dominant person in your relationship (at least between the sheets) so you aren’t expecting him to give in without a fight. He might’ve agreed to this but that doesn’t mean he’s going to offer himself to you on a silver platter. 

And if he thinks you don’t have it in you? Then he’s dead wrong. And you’re determined to prove it. 

“Either way you don’t have much of a say in this. Unless you want to use your safeword?” 

Minho rolls his eyes again. “Continue.”

You ignore his command, moving back up his torso to swirl your tongue around one of his nipples. 

“What are you—ah!—doing?” He kicks his head back when you tug the sensitive bud between your teeth. 

“I thought you’d have more self control than this.” 

“And I thought you’d be all over my cock by now.”

You grin and palm him through his shorts, delighted by the way his eyes widen. “You’re liking this a little too much, aren’t you?” 

“Just a compulsory physical reaction. You’re near me, I get hard.” He shrugs. “Pavlov.”

“I’m sure those dogs were better at following orders, though.”

He grimaces. “Less talking and more—” he gasps when you squeeze his cock again, “—of that.” 

“Hmm, love it when you beg.”

“I didn’t—”

The words die on his tongue when you wrap your lips around his clothed length, mouthing at the head. You can faintly taste the precum that’s wetting the fabric of his shorts. You’ve been teasing him for nearly an hour now, never touching him below the belt. He must be so hard it’s starting to hurt; his heightened senses send in overdrive by the sudden contact even with the layer of cotton in between. 

You might’ve teased him about his self control earlier but you’re impressed by how long he’s holding out. He’s right; if the roles were reversed you would’ve started begging for his cock a long time ago. The only thing keeping you from straddling him right now is your conviction. You’re thankful he’s restrained so he can’t feel or see the wetness pooling between your thighs. 

You’re starting to understand why he enjoys being a dom this much.

You trace the outline of his erection with your tongue until the fabric is soaked with spit. Minho’s tugging at his cuffs, clearly affected even if he tries his hardest to hold back his moans. 

“Just—fuck.” He sounds exasperated now. “Just touch me.”

“I’m touching you.”

You suck a dark bruise into his thigh. They’re so big and strong you wouldn’t mind spending the rest of the day between them. Looking up at him with innocent eyes, the scowl you receive in return communicates something along the lines of you know what I mean. 

“I’ll take them off when you’re a good boy. Behave.” 

“So I really am the dog in this little experiment of yours, aren’t I.”

“I liked calling you kitten but I suppose pup could work.” You trace the muscles in his thigh with one hand before giving the flesh a harsh slap, making him yelp. You watch it jiggle while his cock twitches at the same time. Another tiny crack in his demeanor you file away for later. “Now are you gonna comply or do I have to put a muzzle on you?”

“Fine,” he mutters. He stares at the ceiling as if he’s never seen a more interesting surface before. 

You halt, suddenly unsure of what to do. Did he really give in? Or is this another scheme of his? 

“Well?” He squints down at you. “Cat got your tongue?”

And just like that he’s flipping the script again. You mentally scold yourself for hesitating. It feels like he’s always one step ahead of you. You’re inexperienced when it comes to playing this role and he knows it. 

You need a more direct approach. 

“No cats here.” You make a show of sticking your tongue out as far as you can, dragging it over his thigh. “The dog may get one more chance, though.” You suck another bruise into his skin before pulling back. “If he stops barking.”

“And what if he doesn’t?” 

You ignore him, no longer feeling like giving in to his endless quips. You can almost hear the cogs turning inside his head as he tries to figure out your next move. 

From the way he moans when you suddenly wrap your lips around his clothed cock and bite down, this wasn’t what he was anticipating. 

“I’ve changed my mind. Let me hear you.”

Your fingers tug at the waistband of his shorts while you mouth at his tip. He whimpers louder and you reward him by dragging his shorts down his thighs until his cock springs free. 

It seems your intent has finally caught on because the high-pitched, whiny sound he makes when you tongue at his slit is nothing short of sinful. You kitten-lick his swollen head and swipe your tongue along his shaft from base to tip with long strokes. He chases your mouth with his hips as much as the cuffs around his ankles and wrists allow, clearly vexed by not being able to set the pace or touch you. 

“You’re doing so well,” you coo, cupping his balls. “Such a good little pup.” 

His squirming stills and you look up to find his cheeks flushing a deep red. 

Of course. Praise. After all the times he got flustered when on the receiving end of a compliment you should’ve known it would translate to the bedroom as well. But when he’s in his usual dom persona there aren’t many chances for you to praise him until after the act. 

You smirk and stroke his cock slowly. “Oh, so that’s what the big bad wolf likes? Being a cute needy pup for me?”

Minho is watching the ceiling again. “Maybe I just want to cum.” 

“Don’t you wanna be good for me, baby?” you murmur as you collect his precum with your thumb to spread it over his velvety skin. “Keep being such a good boy and I’ll ride you, might even let you fill me up, how does that sound?”

Careful not to hurt him you suck on his balls, taking them into your mouth while your hand slides along his cock. He’s more vocal now; letting out low groans and high-pitched whimpers when you press your tongue against his perineum. 

“That’s it, you sound so pretty like this.” Your grip around his length tightens when you see how responsive he is. “You’re beautiful. My Christmas present. I’ve always wanted a puppy,” you tease while your other hand circles his rim. 

It’s true. And with his hair mussed, cheeks flushed and skin covered in bite marks he looks absolutely delectable. His cock feels heavy in your fist and you can’t wait to sink down on it. You have to press your thighs together to find some relief for the ache between your legs. 

“I’m gonna—fuck—” Minho croaks suddenly and you let go of his cock, watching it twitch against his stomach as his impending orgasm recedes. His head falls back against the pillow. “I was so close.” His eyes squeeze shut when you slip out of your panties and straddle him, dragging your wet cunt over his swollen cock. “Ahh—please—”

“What did you say, pup?” You cup his cheek. “I can’t hear you.”

“Please, no more teasing,” he pleads. You recognize the glassy look in his eyes. It’s the same look you see reflected back at you in the mirror after he’s had his way with you. “I’ll be good, I—” 

He tugs at the cuffs in frustration, unable to form words. You bend over to press a kiss to his mouth. His bottom lip is swollen from his teeth clamping down on it repeatedly. “Shh, gonna give my pup what he wants, okay? You’ve been so good. Gonna take care of you now, don’t worry.”

You moan in unison when you finally sink down on his cock, his hips flush against your ass. Even without prep there is no resistance; your body has been craving this ever since you stepped into bed. 

“You feel so good,” you whisper against his lips. “Pup’s got such a big cock, stretching me out so well. Never wanna get off. Want you inside of me all the time.” 

Minho has never felt this floaty. There’s a static buzz in his ears as his entire world shrinks down to your voice and the feeling of your warm walls wrapped around him. 

The meek whimpers he lets out at your words are addicting. His eyes roll back when you start grinding your hips in slow circles, your clit rubbing against his pelvic bone. “Look down. Look at how well you fill me up.”

He does as you say, captivated by your pussy sucking in his cock as you start bouncing on it. After getting so close earlier you know he won’t last long if you keep riding him like this. And since you’re not used to him being restrained you miss the feeling of his hands on your body. 

“Listen, pup.” His eyes snap up to yours, big and round and pupils blown so wide nearly all you can see is black. “I’m gonna untie you and then you’re gonna make me cum on your pretty cock like a good boy, okay?”

He nods, whining when you get off to loosen the cuffs. You press a quick kiss to his lips. You didn’t expect him to become this non-verbal after his initial mouthiness. You’re so accustomed to his constant witty remarks (both in and outside of the bedroom) this sudden change in demeanor is worrying you a little. 

“Everything okay, pup?” you ask, massaging his wrists. “Color?”

“Green,” he answers, kicking off his shorts. “It’s… going to be a lot to process, but I feel good. I trust you.”

You smile and press another kiss to his lips.

“It’ll be yellow if I don’t get to cum soon, though.”

You laugh at his cheeky grin. It’s good to see his wittiness is still intact. 

“Watch your tone, pup. Or I’ll cuff your hands behind your back and make you eat me out for another hour.”

Minho groans. “I’ll take all the pussy I can get.”

“So desperate,” you recline against the sheets and guide his cock between your legs. “I like it.”

He follows you without a word, closing his eyes when he sinks back between your velvety walls. You feel so wet and warm around him he has to use all his strength to keep himself from blowing his load as soon as he starts moving. His head drops into the crook of your neck and you wrap your arms around his shoulders. 

“Who would’ve thought my fierce kitty could be such a good pup?” you hum into his ear. He likes to pretend otherwise even though he’s never been anything but soft. So all of this doesn’t really come as a surprise, but you revel in the way your words make his hips stutter. 

“And good pups deserve a reward.” You tug his earlobe between your teeth. It earns a low groan from him. “Do you want to choose yours?” 

Minho can feel himself slipping away again. He leans back and his unfocused eyes take you in. “Wanna fill you up…” he trails off, searching for the right words. “And eat you out after.” 

“You don’t have to—” you start but he cuts you off. He grabs your hips and tilts them so he can thrust into you deeper. The new angle has the head of his cock brushing against your most sensitive spot and you moan at the sudden pleasure flooding your body. It’s only a taste of what he can do but it feels fucking delicious already. 

“I want to,” he assures. “Let me make you feel good, wanna cum, please—”

You’ve never seen him this desperate before. His brows are tightly knit together. His voice is wavering. You realize he’s waiting for your approval—no doubt using all his willpower to keep himself from reaching his high while your tight hole clenches around his cock. The knowledge he’s handing this power to you is almost enough to send you over the edge. 

“Cum for me, pup,” you order and he does so with a sob, spilling his warm seed inside of you with a few short strokes. He stays there for a moment, trembling as you wrap your arms around him and kiss his temple. You let him catch his breath until he wriggles himself out of your hold to settle between your spread thighs. 

You feel his cum dribble out of you until it’s intercepted by his flat tongue sweeping through your folds. You whimper when he sucks on your clit and pushes his face closer into your cunt. 

“I’ll be your good pup,” he grins while he sinks two of his fingers into your hole, “then you can be my kitten again.”

[aeyla]

Shut uppp this is so freakin cute 😭 honestly I need more wholesome bf!Channie content in my life

Thank you for feeding my delusions 🙏

˗ˏˋ fuzzy ‎ socks and ‎ ‎ ‎ warm ‎ ‎covers ‎ ‎✶ˎˊ˗

pairing: bang chan x gn! reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw: tooth rotting domestic fluff, est. relationship + try not to cringe because love is ew :(‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ note: is this all because of the selcas chan shared? yes, yes it is. (also wanted to post something before I go on hiatus cause of exams lol) ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ word count: ‎ ‎0.96k ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ enjoy ! ‎ ‎ bang chan masterlist.

snuggled under three layers of blankets on the couch, you felt perfectly content.

your hands absentmindedly fiddled with the empty cup in your lap, the faint warmth from your drink still clinging to it. a quiet smile played on your lips face as you watched chan throw his hands up dramatically, fully immersed in the story.

“and the host was so shocked when hyunjin started doing that move in the middle of the stage, because who knew there’s another song called sticky?”

“wait,” you cackled, already excited for the clips to emerge. “so you’re telling me that he danced to kiss of life’s sticky in the reality show? damn, can’t believe i missed that.”

chan laughs, the sound filling the room with warmth. a movie was playing on the tv, but you found your boyfriend’s endless stories more entertaining.

sitting on the plush carpet in front of you, chan was wearing a black tank top and grey sweatpants, while you had more layers on than you could count. the room became quiet for a moment, but the hairs on your arms stood up as you saw a mischievous smirk appear on chan’s face.

“no, nope,” you warned him as he stood up, a playful sparkle in his eyes, and you instinctively pull the blankets tighter around yourself. “don’t you dare, christopher bahng.”

“don’t be so mean, ” he pouts, his knees on either side of yours. “do you want your boyfriend to freeze to death out here?”

“well, there’s always the option for sweaters and jackets… or even a tshirt;” you mumble, your face growing red as your boyfriend’s nose touches yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.

he gently takes the cup from your hands and places it on the centre table without breaking eye contact, putting you in a trance. as you let your guard down and lean in for a gentle kiss, you jump in your seat with a yelp as his freezing fingers touches your waist under the covers.

the cold sensation sends chills down your spine as you shiver, goosebumps covering your body.

“christopher,” you whine, finally giving a reaction as he melts into your body. “i hate you.” you shiver as he wraps his arms around you, engulfing you in a chilly but warm embrace as he settles under the covers.

despite yourself, you lean into his embrace instinctively.

“i love you too,” he giggles, dimples on full display, as he hugs you tighter. “and why would i need a sweater when i have you to warm me up just as fine?”

you blush, whatever resolve you had melting away.

“whatever,” chan chuckled as he saw you half heartedly roll your eyes. “i’m wearing the socks you gave me, so i guess you might as well warm up your toes too.” you looked at anything but him in an attempt to appear nonchalant.

his laugh made you feel warmer than the blankets ever could.

chan shifted, tucking himself into your side as you both shifted into a more comfortable position. his legs intertwined with yours, rubbing over your fuzzy socks. his arms wrapped around your waist, adding a comforting weight.

the room grew silent, the only sound being your steady breathing and the soft voice coming from the television.

“oy,” you nudge him after making sure he wasn't asleep. “what happens next?”

“huh? next to what?”

“i dunno. i just want to hear you yap.”

the way chan’s face immediately became red was almost comical. he tried hiding his face in the crook of your neck, making him seem more adorable.

“stop…” he whined, his demeanor changing from his usual cool charm to a fumbling mess.

“what? i just love listening to my boyfriend yap, is that a crime?”

“i mean,” his voice came out small. “i’ve been boring you with my stories all evening today. aren't you sick of hearing my voice already?”

he tried to laugh it off, but let out a shriek as you playfully swatted his arm.

“hey!” you pinched his arm for extra emphasis. “don't ever say that okay? listening to you talk is literally the favourite part of my day.”

“you're just saying that,” chan huffed, hugging you tighter in an attempt to hide his flushed face.

“no, bubba, it's true. i love hearing your voice and i love how you literally light up when you talk about something you find funny or are looking forward to.

plus, it's funny seeing you get worked up over the silliest things sometimes; like that one time jeongin told you your beanie didn't go with your outfit.”

if it was possible to fall even more in love with your boyfriend, it was in this moment, watching him completely melt at your words.

“you remember that?” he whispered. it was so endearing seeing him turn into an adorable mess in front of you.

“of course, i remember that! i remember everything you tell me. and that's cause i’m genuinely invested in all your stories.” you grin.

“you're like my personal podcast. and the best part is i get to keep you all to myself.”

chan adorably wriggled his whole body with shyness, unable to handle the attention. you laughed, reaching out to hold his hands which were covering his face.

“have i told you how much i love you today?” he finally said as he peeked from between his fingers.

“well, not enough.” you tease, and he leans in for a kiss.

he didn't need to tell you how much he loved you, because you felt it in the way the biting cold outside faded into insignificance. it wasn’t the fuzzy socks or the layers of blankets keeping you warm, but rather the undeniable warmth of his love wrapping around you.

“i love you.”

“i love you, too.”

a/n: sappy ending yes but it's currently 1:25AM and it's the best i can do rn rahh (also was this fic just me promoting the propaganda that chan is the biggest yapper ever (chan's room, bubble, yt live hello???) maybe. but was this 100% because i am a professional listener and could listen to him yap all day every day? yes.

please reblog and leave comments, they truly mean the world !

bang chan masterlist.

[aeyla]

Come Back Soon

Bang Chan × afab!reader

✮ Genre: Smut, Sex Worker!Bang Chan ✮ Word count: 5k ✮ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors DNI), sex work (Like a sexy host club kinda?), oral (m rec.), nipple play, unprotected sex, Reader is called pretty (a lot..) ✮ Summary: Who's the cute guy with the white jacket and the thick accent? ✮ A/N: Bang Chan + Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter as requested by this anon! Enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

✮ Masterlist✮

In your defense, it’s not a brothel. It just kind of operates like one.

You heard about Railway from a friend of a friend. It’s a hole in the wall club that she swears is a gem. You looked it up and found close to nothing. There was only a small reddit community of people in your area asking questions about this mystery place. Here’s what you gathered:

It’s a club where women can meet men and pay for attention. Whether or not that attention includes your clothes being ripped off in a private room or a tongue down your throat is up to you. 

You decided to visit one Thursday when your Tinder match was being flaky and you were sick of waiting for replies from men who were either a catfish or can’t find the clit. 

The place was hard to find. You walked passed it twice before you realized that you needed to go down the sketchy staircase next to the hotpot restaurant. 

You expected a place packed and run down with women all over the men working there. You expected a mess and you were met with the opposite. The space was clean, pretty and not nearly wild enough to be considered a club. There are red curved couches and lounge nooks all around. A fully stocked bar and music playing loudly but not so loud that you need to yell. This is not at all what you imagined. 

You learned that night that the only guys in the club were the ones working there. They come up to you, charm you, and only stay if you want them to. If you decline they’re onto the next. 

You spent some time there, got some attention but it wasn’t until your eyes met his that you really felt like you were getting the attention you desired. He was in a suit, no shirt underneath the jacket and looking damn good while doing it. He walked into the room like he was six foot two even though he’s just about average height, it doesn’t matter to you though - he’s hot. 

Once he saw you he went straight for you, walking over like he had all of the time in the world. You sat pretty on the couch, sitting up a bit straighter and sipping your drink like you didn’t even notice him. He thought that was cute. 

“Excuse me.” Oh? Is that an accent you hear? You hum, looking up at him like he didn’t have your attention from the moment he walked in. “Is this seat taken? Or can I join you?”

That’s how you ended up meeting Chris. 

The two of you sat and spoke for at least thirty minutes before his cautious touches turned into much more and a make-out session in one of the lounge nooks. 

He pulled you into his lap, hands on your hips and pretty sounds clashing with yours. You considered taking it further for a second, just a second before your phone rang and your friend effectively cockblocked you. Chris thought it was funny. He smiled while you pouted about having to leave but he didn’t let you go without another kiss - deep and lingering. His tongue on yours and those pretty hands on your hips.

“Come back soon, yeah?” He smiled up at you, his eyes turning into gleaming crescents and you were hooked. Unfortunately, the soon that you promised him wasn’t as soon as you wanted. 

Work has been hectic, your friends have been messy and you’ve just been busy. Every plan that you had to return got canceled until tonight, Christmas Eve. You threw on a red sheer dress and put your phone on Do Not Disturb. When you get to the club this time there’s a guy at the door, a cute blonde with a deep voice and pretty accent. He gives you a card with some instructions for the night. You look it over and turn to him.

“Wait, how does this work?” He smiles - fuck, he’s hot - and points out the QR code on the card. 

“You can scan this to get the clubs app. Then you go to the event tab, press the holiday party chat and it will match you with a random guy from the club. You chat anonymously and if you like him you can take it further. If you don’t like him you can unmatch the chat and try again.” You nod, half entranced by his voice and half listening. 

You nod at him, smiling sweetly but his smile has got you beat. Is he on the app? Gosh. 

You head over to the bar and order a drink then scan the code. You open the app and it’s surprisingly smooth. You follow the instructions that the hot blonde gave you and go to the holiday party chat. A button pops up with big pretty letters reading “Spin”, so you do. Two seconds pass and the bartender is sliding you your drink while you get connected to a chat. This is interesting. 

So, the guys are nice. Really nice, but there’s no spark. You’re on your second drink and you just unmatched your second chat. You look around the club, the men are dressed in sexy, festive all white outfits with their main charming point on display to lure attention. 

 You scan the room looking for that familiar face you made out with a month ago but there’s no sign of him. You sigh, deciding to try your luck and press the pretty button on your phone again. You get connected to someone new and they start off the conversation just as the others did, sweet.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing here alone on Christmas eve?”

You sip your drink, typing a reply and waiting less than a second to get one back. 

- You think I’m pretty? You don’t even know who I am yet. - “Let’s play a game then, yeah? I’ll guess.”

Oh? This is getting interesting.

- And if you guess the wrong pretty girl? - “Then unmatch me.”  - “If I don’t recognize you then I don’t deserve your time.”

Wait… did he say recognize? Like he knows you? Knows what you look like? You look around again, searching for Chris. You’d recognize him in a heartbeat but he’s nowhere to be found. You turn your attention back to the app to see that your match has texted again. 

- “Deal?”

You hesitate but agree. You wait with bated breath as you watch the little chat bubble pop up.

- “By the bar? Sinful little red dress.”

You stare at his answer then look around again. What the hell?

- “You didn’t unmatch. I knew I had the right pretty lady.” - Lucky guess, I’m not the only pretty girl in a red dress. 

You scoff, getting ready to unmatch when he texts back.

- “But you’re the only one here tonight that I was hoping to see again.” - “The only one here that I’ve had my eye on for far longer than I should.” - “The only one I was hoping to match with so I can kiss those pretty lips again.”

Oh fuck, it’s him. Thank the heavens.

- Oh? Is this the guy with the cute accent? - “Pretending that you don’t remember my name? I’m hurt.”

You smile, finishing your drink and texting back. Suddenly you’re having a good time. A very good one. 

- Remind me of it. - “Oh, I plan to”

The chat is ended before you can text back and your heart drops. What happened? Did you actually hurt his feelings? What does he mean he plans to? The bartender interrupts your flurry of wonder before you can go any deeper. He slides you a shot and you furrow your brows. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t order this.” The bartender smiles at you and nods to the other side of the bar. “It’s from him. On his tab.”

You turn around and your heart drops to the center of the earth. Chris is there. White fur jacket, white pants and no shirt. He’s leaning against the bar with a grin that you’d like to kiss off of his stupidly handsome face. How could you forget to look behind you? 

You lock your phone and turn your bar stool to face him. He’s sipping on something while his eyes roam down from yours and over the curve of your neck then the swell of your chest. He’s practically eye fucking you and you have no idea what to do about it. So you take the shot. 

The burn of the alcohol along with the desire bubbling in your core is enough to steel you for the moment that Chris pushes back off of the bar and makes his way over to you. You get a full view of him as he walks over and part of you starts foaming at the mouth while the other part of you has to hold down the fort and act normal about this. 

“Excuse me.” His thick accent rings through your ears and you grin. “Is this seat taken? Or can I join you?” 

“Is that your pick up line or something?” The dopey smile on your face gives Chris all the confirmation he needs to take the empty seat next to you. “You should come up with something new.”

“Is that right? Any suggestions?” Damn it, he’s still as hot as you remember. “I could just tell you how stunning you look in this dress instead.” 

You feel a flush creep up your neck at his compliment. "That's a start," you manage to say, trying to keep your cool. "But I've heard better."

Chris smiles leaning in a tad bit closer. Just enough for you to notice, "Oh? Then I'll have to up my game." His eyes sparkle with mischief. "How about this - I've been waiting to see you again every night for a month. I was starting to worry I'd lost my touch. What good am I if I can’t get the prettiest woman coming back to see me?"

You laugh, the tension easing slightly. "Maybe I was just playing hard to get."

"Were you now?" Chris raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "And here I thought you forgot about me."

"Trust me, it's impossible to forget about you," Your mouth was moving before you could stop yourself. We’ll blame that on the alcohol. 

“You’ve thought about me then?” He asks with a smile that’s much sweeter than any other that you’ve seen tonight.

Fuck it, let loose, It’s Christmas eve. 

“Maybe I have, but the details are classified.” That takes his sweet smile and turns it into a blush real quick. You can’t help but mirror him since you just indirectly admitted to thinking of him while you had some solo play over the past month - which is one hundred percent true.

“Classified, hm?” He speaks up, nodding. “I’ve thought about you too. And those details are free to the public. If you ask for them.”

Your heart races at his bold admission. That was unexpected. You lean in closer, your voice lowering to a sultry whisper. "And what if I did ask?"

Chris' eyes darken ever so slighty. He leans in too, his breath hot against your ear. "Then I'd tell you how I've imagined your soft skin under my hands, the taste of your lips, the sound of your moans as I..."

He trails off, pulling back slightly to gauge your reaction. Your breath catches in your throat, heat pooling low in your belly.

"As you what?" You breathe, unable to look away from his intense gaze.

Chris grins, hoping that he has you hooked. "On second thought, that information is classified. The rest you'll have to find out from experience."

You swallow hard, your mind racing with possibilities. "And how exactly would I do that?"

He reaches out, his fingers trailing lightly over your hand that’s resting on the bar. 

“Come with me downstairs.” There’s a downstairs to this place? “I’ll get you away from the noise and then we can make some of our own.” 

Your heart races as you consider his offer. Every bit of you is screaming at you to take his offer and bring your lingering fantasies to life but you still try to play hard to get. At least you were going to before the alcohol and desire coursing through your veins drowned everything out and had you nodding in a quick second. 

"Lead the way" You say, your voice huskier than intended.

Chris' eyes light up with a mix of surprise and excitement. He stands, offering you his hand before you could even dare to change your mind. You take it, relishing the warmth of his skin against yours. As you slide off the barstool, you take him in and realize just how little justice your memory of him does for his insane body.

He guides you through the semi-crowded club, his hand on the small of your back sending shivers up your spine. You follow him down a narrow staircase, the music fading as you descend. The basement level is dimly lit, with plush velvet sofas and private alcoves tucked away in corners.

He leads you over to one of the private spaces, very few of them are free but he leads you to the one in the corner like it was reserved just for him. “After you.” You step into the cozy space. There’s a couch on one side, a semi-sofa on the other with a small table next to it, then there’s nothing but a bare wall.

Chris slides the door shut behind the two of you as he steps in and it’s almost like you’ve entered your own soundproof barrier.

He almost looks sheepish when he steps forward to close the space between the two of you. His hand finds its way back to the small of your back, his touch gentle and warm. You turn to face him fully, his proximity making your heart race.

"Now where were we?" He whispers, his shy smile turning into a more sly one. You look up at him, unable to tear your gaze away from his. 

"I like your coat." You comment, changing the subject to buy yourself time to calm down but the desire thick in your tone lets you know that there’s little that you can do to calm yourself. "It looks good on you."

He grins, "It would look better on you." Before you can protest he's shrugging the long white fur off of his shoulders, leaving his broad build open on display for you. You stare, taking in each dip and curve of his chest and stomach. How could you not?

He drapes the coat over your shoulders and you smile in a nearly futile attempt to stop the moan clawing up your throat when you realize that the warm fabric smells like him. You slip your arms in the sleeves and Chris hums in approval.

"Now..." He brushes your hair back, his gaze shifting into something more possessive now that you're wearing his coat. "Where were we?"

"Right about here, I think." 

Before he can react your lips are on his in a hungry and demanding kiss. We'll blame this on the alcohol too.

 You melt into him, your hands indulgently taking in the soft skin of his bare shoulders while he returns your passion. His tongue traces along your bottom lip and you part them, allowing him entry. 

He groans into the kiss, his hands finding purchase on your waist for just a second before he lets them trail up under the fabric of his coat and over the sheer of your dress. Every inch of you that he takes in is better than anything he could've imagined in the month that you've been on his mind.

 He pulls you closer, his desire getting the better of him. He has to know what you feel like against him. He just has to.

 You can feel his erection pressing into your hip and a rush of arousal floods between your thighs. 

Your hands explore his chest, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. He pulls back slightly, his breathing heavy as he looks down at you, his eyes dark with need.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmurs, his accent sending shivers down your spine. "This is part of those classified details, ya know."

"Mine too." you admit, biting your lip. "So don't stop."

With a growl, Chris captures your lips once more, his hands sliding further up your back just to slide back down to your waist. You press yourself against him, craving every bit of him you can get your hands on. The proximity deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, leaving you breathless.

His hands cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing them through the fabric of your dress. A soft moan escapes you and he swallows it, his lips trail kisses along your jaw and down to the sensitive spot on your neck. You squirm against him, his touch driving you crazy.

"Fuck, Chris," You gasp, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"Say my name again," He breathes, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Chris," You whimper, his name slipping from your lips without a second thought.

His hands leave their exploration of your curves and trail their way up the backs of your thighs and over the curve of your ass. He lifts you up, bypassing both sofas to pin you against the wall. Your legs wrap around his bare torso, pushing his pants down lower on his hips. Once he has you settled he begins to work his way down your neck, his lips setting off a blazing trail of fire across your skin.

"So soft," he mumbles, his accent thicker now, betraying his growing desire.

His mouth trails back up to yours, stamping a hot kiss against your lips and pulling away right after. You whine, chasing his lips with yours. 

"Impatient, are we?" He chuckles, his hands pushing the bunched up fabric of your dress further up your thighs. You shiver, goosebumps forming where his fingertips brush against your skin.

"You're doing everything right, how could I not be." 

"Oh? Is that so?" He hums, his lips brush over yours teasingly.

"It is." You breathe, your hands moving over his shoulders to tangle in his hair. This time you kiss him, it’s deep and indulgent but then you break it to kiss over his jaw. 

"You're a fucking tease, you know that?" He groans, his thumbs stroking the smooth skin of your thighs. It’s taking all of his self control not to absolutely rip you apart.

"Me?" You breathe, smiling against his skin as you place another kiss. "I'm not the one whose been flaunting around the club half-naked all night. And now you’re here teasing me."

Your teeth graze over the shell of his ear and his cock jumps in his pants. He moves swiftly yet gently, turning to lay you down on the sofa. 

“Am I being a tease?” He asks, staring down at you with those dark brown eyes while his hands work on his belt. You watch the way his fingers move so strategically. The veins in his hands alone are enough to get you feeling hotter. “How can I make it up to you?”

He’s diving down to attach your lips before you can even answer. His hands smooth over your curves hurriedly until he reminds himself to take his time with you. His hands are back on your breasts, pulling down the red fabric of your dress to expose you to him. He catches himself, stopping and pulling back just a bit.

“Can I see you? Is that alright?” You nod, whimpering a hasty “yes” then crashing your lips back to his. He moans against you, pulling down the last of the fabric containing your breasts until they’re resting in his palms. He groans and you swallow it. 

Chris lighty pinches and pulls at your nipples, the buds rise at the attention and you moan in response. "You like that?"

"Yes," Your fingers tangle in his hair and tug. "How about this?" He rolls one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, sending a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper, your head falling back.

"That's it, baby. Let me hear you." He dips his head down and takes one of the stiff peaks into his mouth. The sound it pulls from you is unbecoming but you ignore the embarrassment lingering in your chest and let the pleasure spread further. 

Chris on the other hand, is in love with every sound you make and he’s determined to hear more. His teeth graze over your nipple. Your grip tightens, a louder moan escaping you. "Just like that."

His hands trail down, pulling your dress further up your thighs until the black lace covering your soaked sex is in full view. His hands stroking the underside of your thighs, teasing you further and you nearly fall apart at the seams.

"Chris," You moan, grinding up into him. Begging for him to touch you where you need him most.

"How wet are you, pretty girl?" He coos, his hand slides up between your legs. You gasp and he groans when his fingers trace over the lace of your panties. "Fuck, you're soaked."

"Please," You beg, bucking against his hand. "You’re driving me crazy." His thumb circles over your clit and your hips rock in time with his movements. You're already so close, and he's barely touched you.

His tongue darts out to lick over your neglected nipple. You shudder, your nails dig into his shoulders and he hisses at the sweet sting.

"I want you," you plead, trailing a hand down the expanse of his back. He continues his ministrations, kissing and nipping at your sensitive bud while his fingers work smooth circles over your clit. 

Your legs are practically shaking with desire but your needy whimpers are nothing compared to all that Chris is holding back while he strokes himself on his knees in front of you. You’ve hardly noticed that his hard cock is in his hand, leaking and angry red at the tip but that’s only because he’s swallowing every moan that he possibly can just so that he can hear you clearly. He wants to remember this.  

"Chris," you moan, grinding up against his touch. He pulls back, letting your nipple go with a faint pop.

"What is it, love?" His face is twisted in pleasure as he pants, trying desperately to keep himself in check.

"I need you," You whine, grabbing and rubbing over his bare chest until you grab hold of one of his chains.

"Tell me what you want." He wants to hear you say it. He needs to.

"Fuck me." You breathe, your cheeks flushed. "Please."

Chris doesn't need any further encouragement. In a swift motion, he's standing and lifting you up again. His lips find yours in a hungry kiss and you melt against him.

He turns around and sits down with you straddling him. His bare cock rests against the soaked lace of your panties and he can’t help but to make a sound that he didn’t know was possible. 

His hands grip your hips, digging in like you're the only thing grounding him to reality. "You're sure about this?" 

He asks, his voice low and rough. You nod, reaching between you to move your panties to the side and sit your bare cunt over his length. He hisses, his breath catching in his throat "Oh, fuck." His head falls back against the sofa.

"Let me ride you," You whisper, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck. Chris’ face is red, blushed crazy with desperate desire and restraint. You lift up and pump his cock, spreading your dripping slick and getting him nice and wet before you sink down. 

You two are a splitting image of each other. Faces twisted in pleasure, fingers digging into the other and choked moans spilling over your kiss swollen lips. 

"Fuck, you're so wet." He groans, holding his breath just to make sure he doesn’t bust too fast. "So tight."

“You’re fucking big. Oh god.” Your head falls back, eyes shut tight as you take in the stretch of him. 

Chris hisses, his hips instinctively bucking up into you. "Shit, sorry. Are you okay?" 

He holds still, his hands massaging the swell of your ass. You nod, adjusting to his size. "Yeah, just please move. Don’t stop." 

You're impatient, rocking your hips against him. Chris is quick to give in, rocking his hips up slowly until he loses it and starts snapping his hips up into yours. He drives his cock deep and hard into your fluttering cunt and you clench around him wildly, fucking down onto him like he’s the last man you’ll ever touch. 

You can feel every inch of him, his length dragging along your walls and hitting every spot inside you. It's like the two of you are a perfect fit. Chris' hands roam over your body, mapping every inch of exposed skin. 

"So fucking beautiful," he mutters, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he watches the way your tits bounce in his face. "Look at you, taking me so well." He holds your hips still, keeping you in place while he fucks his thick length up into you. You cling to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he fucks into you. 

Chris' eyes flutter shut, a string of curses falling from his lips. His fingers dig into your hips with each bounce of you on his cock. 

"Is this what you wanted, pretty girl?" He grunts and you clench, driving him closer to the edge. “Is that what you thought about?”

The sounds coming from the both of you are filthy. Pornographic in nature and incessant. 

"Y-yes," you manage to gasp, your fingers digging into the muscles of his chest, surely leaving marks to remember you by. "Just like that. Oh, oh fuck, Chris. You're gonna make me cum." 

Your words send him reeling, his thrusts faltering slightly. "Do it, baby," he rasps, his eyes burning into yours. "Cum all over my cock." 

The coil in your belly snaps, his name spilling from your lips as you cum. Your release has his head spinning. The tight squeeze of your cunt and the sounds he has vibrating from your chest drag him closer to his own blinding release. He holds back, fucking you through your high with a sloppy rhythm. 

"Fuck, I'm close." You pry his grip from your hips and lift up off of him, sinking down to your knees. You look prettier than Chris can handle, on your knees with his fur coat pooling around you. Your lips wrap around his throbbing cock and he moans, his hand finding purchase in your hair immediately.

"Shit, yes, oh god." He breathes, his hips rocking forward. "So good, jus’ like that." A deep, guttural moan escapes his lips and his hips stutter. "Fuck, oh fuck." 

His eyes shut tight as you bury his cock deep in your throat, swallowing around him and milking his chest dry of every last ounce of oxygen he possessed.

You hum, reaching down between your legs and rubbing your throbbing pussy while he makes such pretty sounds above you.

"’M gonna cum," He groans, his accent thick and his grip on your hair tightening. You keep your pace, bringing your hand up to stroke what can’t fit into your mouth as you suck and lick him like you know everything that drives him crazy - because somehow, you do.

His jaw clenches, his abs tense and the muscles in his neck strain and suddenly you wish that you were still on top of him, letting him fill you full of his sticky seed but that will have to wait until next time. 

Chris tenses above you, a loud groan erupting from him as the first spurt of hot cum falls against your tongue. 

"Fuck, oh, fuck. Just like that, baby. ‘M cumming for you, take it all." He shudders, rambling as his body jerks as he spills himself down your throat. You swallow him greedily, his sweet taste lingering on your tongue. 

Chris' breathing is heavy, his chest rises and falls rapidly while he watches you. You pull up off of him, kissing the head of his twitching dick while his heart races.

You smile at him, "Good?" You ask, wiping the corners of your mouth. “Are you kidding me?” Chris huffs out a breathy laugh. "So fucking good." 

"Come here," He mumbles, lifting you up and bringing you to his lap. His coat drags behind you and he runs his hands up under the furry fabric and over your back. “You look so good in this.”

He fixes your dress, bringing it up to cover your exposed chest and smoothes the fabric over your thighs. “Do you say that to every girl you let borrow your clothes?”

Chris smiles, shaking his head and running his greedy hands up your thighs. 

“You're the only girl I’ve ever let wear something of mine. And I’ll keep it that way under one condition.” You smile, resting your own greedy hands over his chest and leaning into him. 

“What would that be?” He cups your cheek bringing you in for a soft kiss, much softer than what’s in his job description. In his defense, he’s never felt this much chemistry with any other lady who’s walked through the front door of this club.

“Come back soon, okay?” He smiles against your lips and kisses you again, whispering this time. “And I’ll make sure that you’re the only one wearing my clothes both inside and outside of the club.”

You mirror his smile, kissing his lips with a tenderness you didn’t foresee when you first met him. 

“Deal.”

Thank You For Reading! 💕

Divider credit to @bunnysrph

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[aeyla]

Me with college. Yeah I got a degree. But it sucked and now I’m in debt too. So it still sucks.

people say folks with adhd struggle with "delayed rewards" aka long term goals and as such we tend to focus more on short term rewards. what they don't talk about is that at when we Do accomplish long term goals we don't actually feel anything proportionate to the amount of work we did to achieve it. In my head I suffered for a while and then money spontaneously appeared in my bank account.

[aeyla]

[aeyla]

Hiiii!!! First I wanna say how much I really like your work! Also, I stumbled upon our Seventeen and Enhypen as Hogwarts students, but saw you didn’t have it for Stray Kids 😭 I know they’ve mentioned in 2019 what house they think they are, but you seem to have a much better understanding of the houses and I’m very curious to see what you would think their houses would be.

I was wondering if I could request a similar sort of headcannon for them 🥹 Thank you!

Heck yeah! Can't believe I didn't do this sooner tbh but I love this so here we are 😌 I agree, not necessarily that I'm the best at the job, lol, but that people just go for very generic ideas of the houses (Gryffindor is cool, Slytherin is evil, Hufflepuff is nice/silly, Ravenclaw is smart) rather than the true reflection of where they'd be hehe! Like Ravenclaw is actually also known for being artistic and eccentric, Slytherin for strong determination, Hufflepuff for acceptance and breaking tradition, Gryffindor for being the other self-sacrificing house. So sometimes people just say "I'm a Gryffindor because I'm a good guy!!!" anyway rant over here's the actual content we want🤣

🏰 Stray Kids as Hogwarts Students🔮

Bang Chan

☆ Some kids got sorted instantly, but with one Christopher Bang the Hat took longer. Muttered to itself a lot as it waffled between his qualities, dubbing him hardworking and courageous and ambitious and loving. He couldn't help but flush under the hat's words, almost not hearing when its voice finally bellowed "Gryffindor!”

☆ Being Pure-Blood was only ever a phrase on a family tree for Chris. Who one’s ancestors were, what they looked like, or how much money they had said nothing for their value- only their choices and character did that.

☆ It’s only a formal class for one year, but he adores Flying. The feeling of freedom and getting to have some time outside is heaven for him. Defense Against the Dark Arts is another favorite for the similar reason of being able to get active and challenge himself, even literally facing his fears.

☆ Astronomy is very cool to him, but he finds having to fill in the same charts week after week a bit repetitive and not the best use of his time, frankly.

☆ Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain! He plays Keeper, working with great patience and synergy with the rest of the team to keep the goals clear.

☆ Blessed is the only word Chris can think of when he realizes how many happy memories he can pull from- not everyone can say that. As the word comes to mind, his wand lights up, producing a shining silver wolf standing majestically, protectively, before him.

Lee Know

☆ "You're an interesting one," came the Hat's comment upon touching Minho's head, "you've certainly got your priorities...whatever those are. A unique mind for sure. Better be Ravenclaw!" Some of Minho's friends had teased him as a Slytherin, so he was a bit surprised. Not that he would let his house define him entirely.

☆ He hates the reputation and unnecessary pressure that comes with being a Pure-Blood. It’s stupid and not worth debating in Minho’s mind. The only benefit is just the resources and opportunities he might get, and it’s tempting to turn those down on principle. Money and status don’t matter to him at all and there’s a part of him that wants to ‘sully the bloodline’ just for the hell of it! Luckily his parents don’t care either.

☆ Potions whiz. One of the few who actually get it and enjoy the calm, precise art and its beautiful results and wants to go N.E.W.T. with it. He’s also great at Care of Magical Creatures, naturally focused on the well-being of animals and other living things over his own excitement or whims.

☆ Having a fear of heights, Flying is not it for him. No thanks. He passes, but barely, and in his mind it’s not a skill he plans to use.

☆ Naturally, Minho opts out of Quidditch signups, but instead joins the Gobstones club because he thinks spraying the losers with stone juice is funny. Also gets invited to the Slug Club for his Potions skills and influence.

☆ No one is surprised when Minho closes his eyes, focuses, and boom! Produces a little glowing cat bursting from his wand with a few swipes of its paw to groom its nonexistent striped fur.

Changbin

☆ "Quite a softie underneath it all, eh?" Beneath the weight of the tattered Hat, Changbin strikes a bit of a pose. "Got a lot of ambition, but you've also got a lot of...that. Hmmm..." The Hat muses for a few more moments. "At the end of the day, this one’s a Slytherin!” Pride flows through Changbin’s veins- he doesn’t care for the reputation of producing dark wizards, the potential snobbery. All he cares about is showing his ambition to be the best if he puts his mind to it.

☆ He’s a Half-Blood, but both of his parents are wizards so his familiarity is much more with the Wizarding World. He wants to understand Muggles better to connect with them, too, as well as Muggleborns.

☆ Taking Muggle Studies helps with this and learning about another culture is quite fascinating to him- technology especially is amazing, like that’s what people do instead of magic? Wires of captured lightning? Sounds pretty magical to Changbin. He gets into tinkering with technology because of this. Another class he enjoys is Defense Against the Dark Arts. Changbin loves feeling ready to protect himself and others, so that’s the class he spends the most time practicing and taking notes in. He always thinks of his friends and his sister as he does so.

☆ History of Magic is boring, though, Changbin wants to cast some spells! At the end of the day, where certain spells come from don’t matter to him as long as he can use them. However, the idea of showing up in a ‘great wizards’ history highlight one day is appealing to him…

☆ His strength comes in handy serving as one of Slytherin’s two Beaters. The other teams are lowkey afraid of the Bludgers Changbin sends their way because they know how hard he hits!

☆ Bets are flying on what his Patronus animal would be, a pig or a rabbit. Pig is the most popular choice, mostly in jest, but shushing them all Changbin focuses all the great joy he’s expressing…and out leaps a rabbit! Not just any rabbit, though, but the massive, fluffy form of a Flemish giant rabbit that has everyone laughing and Changbin grinning, reaching out to it.

Hyunjin

☆ Nearly the second the Sorting Hat rests atop his head, it's shouting 'Ravenclaw!' Hyunjin himself can't be surprised, really, not when he's heard talk of the great artists in that house. In fact, pride glows in his chest as he joins his table that the Hat could see that in him.

☆ The Hwangs are an old wizarding family. Hyunjin has a lot of opportunities because of this, but fights against the idea that he could be any better than anyone else because of a name. Rather, he is often seen lifting up Muggleborn classmates and highlighting struggled of other magical people.

☆ Ancient Runes comes naturally to Hyunjin, something about his eye for detail, symbols, and decoding. Language is an area of interest for him so that class is like a beautiful puzzle. Astronomy grants Hyunjin so much art inspiration as well as time to relax and appreciate the gifts of nature and their inherent magic.

☆ There's no one class he hates, but like a lot of students Hyunjin has a harder time focusing on all the information getting dumped on him in History of Magic.

☆ Hyunjin’s extracurriculars include the Muggle Art club where he hones his painting skills and the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, where he plays as the team’s Seeker.

☆ Expectations fly as everyone wonders what the next Hwang’s Patronus will be. Will he get a stag, the majestic animal associated with famous wizards? An eagle, symbolizing his house? Not at all, in fact what Hyunjin summons is a beautiful, delicate silver dove that lights upon his shoulder.

Han

☆ “Don’t be so shy, kid, you’ve got heart.” “Really? Thanks bro.” “Yes, that’s what I’m talking about,” the Hat chuckles, “this one’s a Hufflepuff!” Jisung’s eyes go wide. He wasn’t expecting to get Hufflepuff, but if the hat says so, well, who is he to fight it? It’s nice getting the kindest house, too- maybe he’ll make a lot of friends.

☆ As a Half-Blood, the heavy weight of prejudice never really fell on Jisung. Half-Bloods tended to fall between the cracks as having already been sullied, just middle ground. As he witnesses bullying more and more, though, his passion grows to somehow help others and remind people that nobody can help who their ancestors married.

☆ Charms are quick, snappy, spur-of-the-moment but effective in a pinch, and Jisung likes that. It's fun and he can cast charms as quickly as he cracks a joke or comeback! Ancient Runes brings him a lot of inspiration from history and other languages that he loves to bring to his songwriting.

☆ Flying, thank goodness, isn't enforced every year! It scares him, frankly, and he'd much rather stay on the ground where he belongs.

☆ Because flying isn’t his favorite, no way in hell is he doing it with giant leather and metal things trying to smash him. Nope. However he’ll happily watch and commentate, hence him taking the mic and giving very entertaining descriptions of everything that happens. He’s also in the Frog Choir, always trying to get them to perform one of his compositions.

☆ Jokes around that he’s going to get a massive Patronus animal like a bear or a lion, but once he sees the embodiment of his joy skipping from his wand as a little quokka, he can’t even be embarrassed, just smile!

Felix

☆ "Well, you're just a delight, aren't you?" Felix couldn't tell if the Hat was being sarcastic, but still he chose to respond in kind. "I try!" At that, the Sorting Hat chuckled. "Yes, this one's a Hufflepuff for sure!" His sister had told him as much, but Felix couldn't complain- he liked the idea of being a Hufflepuff!

☆ Felix is a Muggleborn, so he takes in every step of starting school with wonder…though it is a bit overwhelming feeling like everyone’s speaking another language sometimes. But then again, magic candy! Brewing potions!

☆ Absolute wonder at Care of Magical Creatures and Herbology. Felix is so gentle and good with every living thing, they practically request he be the one to handle them and that makes his heart burst with joy and honor! He also loves Potions, thinking the idea is so classic and cool, plus despite what most students say it’s kind of relaxing to him.

☆ Transfiguration dropped lower on his list when they started using living subjects. Sure, the idea that anyone and anything can grow and change and exist in many forms is really inspiring, but those poor mice and birds!

☆ Slug Club inductee part two! Even though he’s a Muggleborn with no direct influence, Felix is such a good student and avid potioneer that he’s a shoo-in. He also plays Quidditch as Hufflepuff’s Seeker.

☆ Felix isn’t sure what animal he’ll get, but he certainly isn’t expecting multiple! The entire class is shocked when a whole brood of chicks tumbles forth from his wand, eliciting shock and charmed coos alike.

Seungmin

☆ "This one's a bit of a surprise now," the Hat commented upon being set atop Seungmin's head. Seungmin couldn't help wondering what that meant and if it was bad, how to prove the Hat wrong. "No, lad, all you just did was prove my point. Looks can be deceiving, after all. Slytherin!" He wasn't sure what he expected, but that might not have been it. Sort of made sense, though- he could have fun with that!

☆ He can’t help wondering if the Hat chose as it did because he’s a Pure-Blood, taking Salazar’s old favors into account. Then again, he did just throw a cheating Gryffindor under the bus in class…

☆ Thinking logically is no trouble for Seungmin, so Arithmancy isn’t a bad choice for him. Connecting relationships between numbers and their power just makes sense to him- eight is his lucky number, after all. He also frequents the Potions dungeon, but that’s mostly just to brew the photo solution that grants his personal art projects motion!

☆ Defense Against the Dark Arts is a fun and active class, but it's boisterous and people take the duels too far sometimes.

☆ Frankly, he didn’t have time to join the Quidditch team due to his other extracurriculars, being an avid Frog Choir singer and the Hogwarts paper’s photographer.

☆ Everyone is sure the student everyone sees as a puppy will get a dog for his Patronus. Imagine their surprise when he casts a tanuki! Cute and cunning, no one can deny it matches him perfectly in the end.

I.N

☆ He forgot the Hat could read his thoughts. “So you want a house where you can show your talents and look out for people, huh?” Flushing, Jeongin just nods with a faint, bashful smile. “Well, better be Gryffindor, then!” He’s surprised, thinking maybe he’d have gotten Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff- he isn’t particularly brave, is he? “Trust me, kid, you’ll find your way,” the Hat promises, and do its eyelike folds wink?

☆ As a Half-Blood, he has knowledge of the Wizarding World, but also life outside of magic. Having one Muggle parent means one person getting yanked into the world of wonder, after all! Jeongin is proud to understand both sides of his world and guide his friends on how Muggles really live.

☆ Details don’t escape Jeongin, so he loves drawing star charts for Astronomy. Transfiguration is another favorite of his for similar reasons: he enjoys the focus, the idea that he can reshape objects into something greater or something new. It feels symbolic, poetic.

☆ Potions stresses him out because it's so easy to burn things or measure wrong; even if little details usually fascinate him, he can be a bit clumsy with the required finesse.

☆ Joins the wizard chess club, art club, and plays Quidditch- what can’t our baby bread do? Jeongin becomes Gryffindor’s Seeker, one especially known for turning the tides of the game for his team completely!

☆ He can barely contain his excitement that day in Defense Against the Dark Arts when it comes time to cast Patronus charms! He wonders if his animal will look like him and he certainly gets his wish when a charming little desert fox pops forth.

[aeyla]

I saw this on Twitter and thought it’ll be fitting for Felix since he loved that Changbin pillow so much maybe I’ll itch you a little bit

can i use you as a pillow ? (i hump my pillows btw)

you know what!!! this is a perfect opportunity for an addition to my drunk!skz series-but-not-really-series

990 words 🔞 bc I'm an nsfw blog but this is just drunk flirting and implied very consensual but drunk sex between friends-to-lovers (if that bothers you, please don't read!!)

You're talking to Changbin over the music when a solid body thumps into your back. At first, you think someone lost their footing while dancing in the cramped living room and stumbled into you, but then lithe, downy arms sneak around your waist and a cold nose nudges against the collar of your shirt.

Changbin's eyes meet Felix's over your shoulder, and he raises his eyebrows with a smirk.

Felix breathes a gravelly giggle into your shoulder, his arms slip upwards, resting in the dip of your waist, tightening to pull you closer. Your belly does a little flip.

"Hiiii," he drawls out, hooks his chin over your shoulder. There's something sweet and fruity on his breath, as well as something distinctly alcoholic. He's so unbelievable warm, plastered against your back like this.

"How much have you had to drink?" Changbin asks, amusement evident in his voice, though his ever protective eyes are watching you like a hawk for any kind of discomfort.

"Only a drink or two ... or three or four," Felix hums, his voice vibrating from his chest into your back, shivering through your body like you're just an extension of him. You might as well be with how he's pressed against you. You can feel every single one of his inhales against your back, every exhale ghosts over the side of your face.

Changbin raises an eyebrow at him, then meets your eye. A wordless question. You can feel yourself blush as you try to smile back casually, but you can feel how it's written all over your face. How flustered you are, yet how giddy. Greedy for more, when you rest your own arms on Felix's, pull him even closer.

His breath hitches, barely noticeably, and his body freezes, before he relaxes and sinks into you with a breathless little laugh. His head sinks further onto your shoulder and when you look over, your faces are only inches apart. His eyes flick all over your face for a split second before they meet yours, and you're speechless.

He's gorgeous. Always is. The button of his pretty nose. The kissable, pink dip of his cupid's bow. The constellations scattered over his nose and cheeks. He did his make-up tonight. There's some eyeliner smudged around his eyes, lending them a depth that you've never seen in them before, and makes you feel light-headed with just how badly you want to do things you shouldn't.

When he smiles and his eyes crinkle, dips his head forward to nudge his nose into your cheek, his breath fans against your lips, and you nearly gasp.

"How about we get you home, hm? I think you should sleep this off," Changbin offers gently, and you blink over at him dumbly. For a second there you'd forgotten he was still there.

Another airy giggle slips from Felix's lips, and you turn back to him. You let your eyes drag down to the expanse of his neck, watch as he swallows heavily. The smell of his perfume hangs so heavy and sweet between you, you feel like you can taste it, though it makes you wonder what it would taste like on his skin. What it would smell like on your sheets, with your face buried in his neck, his breaths heavy as he ruts into you ...

"Only if Y/Nie agrees to be my pillow," Felix quips back to Changbin, though he's not looking at him, he's staring at you. His eyes dip down to your lips again. He licks his.

"But be careful," he murmurs, "I like to hump my pillows."

It takes you a good few seconds to register what he just said, and when you do, a red-hot shiver runs down your spine.

Felix seems to see it in your eyes because his gaze gets even heavier, and he leans closer, but suddenly, he's yanked away from you in one devastating movement. You have to bite back a disappointed whine at the sudden absence of his warmth, the disappointment shuddering through you like a physical thing. You give Changbin the dirtiest glare you can muster, though you know your face is still burning, and you probably look too flustered to be intimidating in any way.

"Okay, I'm stopping you right there, before you do something you might regret," Changbin declares as he pulls Felix away to stand a few feet away from you. Felix looks dazed, confused in his tipsiness as he looks from you to Changbin and back. There's a pretty little bulge in the front of his jeans and a blush on his face, and he looks just the right kind of pissed off. You want to eat him.

"Why would I ... what do you mean, you're not my dad," he frets, glares at Changbin, who's unimpressed. He slings his arm over his shoulder and starts dragging him towards the door, babbling something about you talking tomorrow, when he's sober, but you ... you can't let it go. If there's one thing you know, it's that you want Felix, and Felix wants you. Alcohol or no alcohol. Today or tomorrow. So why wait.

"Felix!"

You say his name and he turns, meets your eyes. You blink at him, then gesture to the stairs with your eyes.

And it's like he processes it for a second, before he breaks out into a shit-eating grin. Faster than lightning, he twists and slips out of Changbin's hold and flits towards you. You meet him halfway, hand already reaching out to find his, and you run up the stairs, away from Changbin, calling your name, nearly tumbling over each other as you stumble down the hall and into Felix's room.

Felix locks the door behind him, and you're on him before he can say another word. You're still out of breath, giggling as you kiss him, and he kisses you back, messy and sweet and fucking perfect.

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[aeyla]

DUDE PART 4.5??? Genuinely the most heartfelt smut I have ever read ???? Like ???? I straight up thought I was going to cry :’( but also minho being possessive is so fucking hot, that had me giggling and kicking my feet fr

Also Changbin is definitely off limits for now, but I feel like after yn and him had that moment in part 4, he might try and make it happen again. I think he enjoyed it too much to let it go. Especially with him saying that she is the most beautiful woman he has ever seen??? I just wonder how Jisung and Minho would react to him trying to make a move. That’s just something that will be brewing in my little noggin

ahhhh I live for your feedback, honestly, i am sooo glad you're enjoying it. also, as you saw, you were not the only one interested in more possessive minho so I hope you 're okay with me using this ask of yours for minho getting posessive calmly talking to changbin about boundaries after part 4.5 (or as I like to call it, "will minho ever realise that the way he approaches things makes people want to rile him up? probaby not")

“Hello, beautiful.”

You hear Changbin’s voice before you feel his presence behind you, reaching around you for another bottle of soju before he leans against the counter next to where you’re mixing yourself a drink.

You didn’t miss how Minho and Jisung’s heads had snapped over to you as soon as the pet name dropped from Changbin’s lips.

“Hey handsome,” you purr back, giving him a wink before you measure out two shots of gin.

“Oh, you’re brave, Minho looks like he’s about to murder someone,” Changbin chuckles out, “did you not tell them that you talked to me already?”

You shake your head.

“They’ve been kind of hung up on this whole thing. Figured I’d let them do their own talking,” you explain with a shrug of your shoulder. “Can you hand me the tonic?

“Can’t say that fills me with optimism. Chan told me he almost had to fight Minho,” Changbin responds with a grimace, before turning around to get the tonic from the counter to his other side. When he hands it to you, your fingers brush over his.

“Minho won’t punch you, I’ll make sure he doesn’t,” you reassure him as you finish mixing your drink. Changbin raises an eyebrow.

“What about Jisung?”

You give him a look, and he barks out a laugh.

“Don’t underestimate him, he’s stronger than he looks. I bet his fists could do some damage,” Changbin muses, eyes briefly darting to check if Minho and Jisung are still watching. They are. Intently.

You shrug and take a sip of your drink, finally fully facing Changbin.

“It really is a shame, you know,” he says, before meeting your eyes again, “I don’t know if that was just a normal fuck for you and I’m being delusional, but I really felt like we had some chemistry. I had a great time.”

You give him a cheeky smile and he blushes slightly.

“It was definitely not a normal fuck,” you say, quietly and he blushes harder, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips. Oh, he’s so fucking cute. “Which is unfortunately why we can’t do it again.”

Changbin hums, an adorable pout tugging at his bottom lip as he looks at you.

“If you want indirect kisses, you can always hook up with Minho or Jisung,” you joke casually, in an attempt to lighten the mood again. Changbin pulls a disgusted face, just like you expected.

“Ugh, no, thanks,” he mumbles with a shiver, giving you a happy grin when you laugh at his antics.

“Or Hyunjin, actually, Hyunjin kisses me a lot,” you add thoughtfully and Changbin’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Well, now that I wouldn’t mind …” he trails off and you laugh again, feeling Changbin’s eyes watching as you do. But then he looks back over to Minho and Jisung and sighs.

“Hey, what do you think I need to do to get this over with? The talking thing I mean,” he says and you giggle, “hopefully not the getting-punched-by-Minho thing.”

“I think if you keep looking at me like that, it will only be a matter of time,” you tease and Changbin grimaces dramatically, throwing his head back with a groan.

“Don’t make fun of me,” he whines, “I can’t help that you’re so fucking pretty and I know what you look like with your lips wrapped around my dick.”

Now it’s your turn to blush, punching his shoulder, hard. Maybe you’re letting your fingers drag down his arm just a little bit as you pull back.

“You’re impossible,” you mumble out, face burning as you stare into his smiling eyes.

But all of a sudden, two arms wrap around your middle and you can just about put your drink down before you’re lifted into the air and carried away from Changbin. You yelp, kicking your legs helplessly until your captor, who, one glance down at ringed fingers tells you, is Jisung, finally puts you down a few feet away. Then Jisung’s arm is around your shoulder, face dipping down to rub his nose against yours before he kisses you. It’s quick and dirty and he pulls away within seconds, clearly unwilling to miss a second of whatever’s happening, where Minho is now staring down Changbin with his arms crossed over his chest.

Changbin looks over at you with a grimace of fear that makes you giggle, which in turn makes Jisung’s arm tighten around you.

“Changbin,” Minho says, calmly, but intimidatingly. He’s really only a few centimetres taller than Changbin, but the way he stands in front of him, chin up, shoulder squared – it makes him look a lot taller.

“Minho?” Changbin asks, doing his best to sound casual.

“About time we had a little chat,” Minho says calmly. Changbin just raises his eyebrows at him, questioningly. You didn’t expect him to rat you out, but seeing him play along still fills you with gratitude – and hope that this conversation will not turn into a huge mess.

“About what?” He asks, and Minho narrows his eyes at him.

“Don’t play dumb,” he says coldly, “you have a crush on our girl.” Changbin’s ears flush bright red.

“No, no, I don’t,” he blubbers out, eyes nervously darting from Minho to the kitchen counter to Jisung with his possessive arm around you. When he sees you smile at him, he relaxes slightly. It’s adorable, how he thinks you’d have a problem with that.

“Changbin, I get it,” Minho interrupts him, mock sweetness dripping from his words, “I really do. But the difference between us is that Y/N is ours, not yours.”

Changbin’s eyebrows shoot up at Minho’s last words.

“So the fact we love her,” he says with an insistence that makes your heart thump against your ribcage, “means we don’t appreciate when other people try to come onto her.”

Changbin scoffs, shaking his head slightly as he crosses his arms over his chest, mirroring Minho’s stance. Jisung’s foot is tapping the floor restlessly next to you and it’s driving you a little bit insane.

“First of all, possessive, much? And second of all, why am I getting the lecture if you’ve slept with half the group at this point?” Changbin challenges him, but his demeanour is calm as he stares back at Minho.

“The difference is that you,” Minho prods his finger into Changbin’s chest with a venomous smile and you see Changbin’s hands clench slightly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “you decided to take the flirting to the next level, something none of the others have done.”

Changbin gives Minho a questioning look. Suddenly, Jisung steps away from your side until he is next to Minho.

‘The most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen’?” he quotes, indignation in his voice.

The questioning look doesn’t leave Changbin’s face as he looks from Minho to Jisung, and you can see Minho’s back muscles tense.

“What, did none of the others call her beautiful? That sounds like something you should be mad at them for, not me.”

The conversation is clearly not going in the direction Minho wanted, and you could feel the frustration rolling off him.

“Changbin,” Minho growls out, “stop playing dumb, you know exactly what I mean.”

“Actually, Minho, no, I don’t. Just because it’s a one-time thing doesn’t mean I won’t treat a woman the way she deserves.”

“The most beautiful one you’ve ever seen?” Minho asks again, raising a disdainful eyebrow, but Changbin shrugs.

“Well, if it’s true …,” he says, and Jisung actually growls at that, rolling his shoulders subconsciously.

For someone who had just told you he didn’t want to fight, Changbin sure was pushing his luck.

“Do you usually go around saying that to your friend’s partners?” Jisung asks fiercely, his face burning, both his fists clenched at his sides now, too. It’s unusual to see Jisung this worked up.

“Well, usually my friend’s partners don’t sit on my dick,” Changbin counters without wasting a second and Minho takes another step towards Changbin, towering over him as he trembles with rage.

“Y/N is off-limits for you, understand? You won’t have her again,” he grinds out, staring at Changbin, who is not backing down in the slightest.

“Does she know about that or did you just make that decision for her?” he spits out, but before Minho can actually throw the first punch, you decide to interfere. Stupid Changbin, you should’ve let him get punched.

“Everyone, time-out,” you say as you walk up to them and gently push between them, shoving Minho back until he’s back at a reasonable distance to Changbin, next to Jisung. Before you can open your mouth, Minho’s hand wraps around your arm and Jisung wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back against them, hooking his chin over your shoulder. You don’t have to look to know he’s still glaring at Changbin.

You’re mad at them, but you humour them, fixing Changbin with a serious look.

“Changbin, I’m in a relationship with Minho and Jisung and they did not appreciate the chemistry we had, so we all agreed you and I can’t do it again. And despite your best efforts to provoke them, I know you understand that because you told me. So you can all put your dicks away and we can go back to having fun.”

You feel Minho huff out behind you. Changbin looks guilty as he nods at you, the absence of the rage in his system leaving him looking distinctly deflated.

When nobody else says anything, you shrug off Jisung, grab your long abandoned drink from where it had been pooling condensation for the last 20 minutes, and walk back to the living room.

Jisung finds you first, slinking up to you and nuzzling his nose into your hair with a sad little noise.

“Sorry, baby,” he mumbles, “I kinda lost my cool back there.”

You scoff, but still thread your fingers into his soft hair.

“Yeah, what the hell, Ji, you’re supposed to be on my side,” you chide him softly, and he makes another sad noise before you press a gentle kiss to his lips.

Then Minho appears before you, his eyes now soft and apologetic as he takes your hand gently. He doesn’t say anything, just holds it while Jisung presses soft kisses onto your neck.

“Say it,” you deadpan, and Minho pouts at you. Far cry from his puffed out chest from 10 minutes ago. “Nu-uh. Say it.”

He drops your hand and rolls his eyes dramatically, but his antics don’t phase you.

“You should’ve talked to him,” he mumbles out and you nod at him.

“I should’ve talked to him,” you confirm and he rolls his eyes again but takes your hand, his thumb swiping over the back of it gently.

“But he was being an asshole,” he adds petulantly, and you sigh. But you nod.

“He was being an asshole.”

Minho gives you a long look, as if checking to see if you’re still mad. Your lips pull into a small, reassuring smile, and his eyes dip down at them before he pulls you in.

Minho isn’t one for PDA. He usually lets you and Jisung do the majority of the cuddling and making out in public. But now he’s kissing you like you’re two orgasms deep and he hasn’t seen you in weeks. It’s feverish and urgent, his one arm around Jisung, to keep him close to you, the other cupping your face as he kisses you so deeply, electric zaps of arousal shiver down your spine. Jisung presses his whole body against your back as he sucks a deep mark into the junction of your neck. Minho pulls back enough he can stare into your eyes.

“Ours,” he breathes against your lips and you nod, eyes locked onto his stormy ones.

“Yours.”

series masterlist // skzms' general masterlist // ko-fi

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[aeyla]

May, what the fuck??💀 I woke up first thing in the morning to see this jewel?! What is this blessing??!🛐🛐

It was perfect. If I got to see Minho having a chat with the other members (specifically Chan and Changbin) then it would have been mind-blowing

you ask, I deliver ✨ also I had to split it up because these got long hahaha so here, have Minho barking very calmly speaking to Chan after part 4.5 (changbin version here 👀)

“So, since when do you like guys?”

The question rings sharply through the 3racha dorm kitchen. The chatter from Jisung’s room suddenly ceases and Chan knows you and Jisung are listening. Great.

Chan slowly turns around and looks at Minho, who’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. His face is guarded, unreadable, cold. Chan takes a steadying breath.

“I’m assuming this is about a few days ago?” he says and it’s not really a question.

Minho just grunts, not even deigning to give Chan a full response.

“Listen, I told Jisung and Y/N this was a bad idea, you clearly weren’t in on it because now you’re mad,” he says softly, watching Minho closely.

Minho scoffs and shakes his head, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“Just answer my question. Since when are you into guys?”

Chan stares at him, wordlessly asking him if this is really necessary. But Minho doesn’t budge. Chan sighs deeply.

“I don’t know, Minho, I don’t know since when I’m into guys. I don’t even know if I am into guys,” he says and the microwave dings. He turns away, hoping that Minho will leave it be, but he should’ve known better than that.

“Well, you sure were into Jisung sucking your cock the other day, so I think it’s safe to assume you’re into guys.”

Chan sighs again and finally leaves his food on the counter, turning around and giving Minho his full attention.

“Fine, okay, I guess I am. Does it really matter that much?”

Chan watches Minho closely and he can see he’s angry. He just doesn’t understand exactly why.

“Would you have let any random guy suck you off that day then? What about Changbin, I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded.”

It’s been a long day and Chan is tired and he knows he shouldn’t let it get the better of him but Minho is getting on his nerves.

“Jesus Christ, Min, what do you want me to say? That I think Jisung’s hot? That I think he’s cute? That he sucked my dick sooo well and I wanna boyfriend him now?,” he’s waving his hands around, clearly acting, but Minho’s eyes narrow dangerously.

“You better not fucking say that or I will break your legs,” Minho growls out, taking a step towards Chan.

“Minho, I was fucking joking,” Chan exclaims, annoyance now obvious in his voice, “you should really talk to someone about those jealousy issues of yours, I don’t think it’s normal to threaten to break your friends’ legs.”

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say because it takes Minho two steps to get up into Chan’s space and shove him, hard – a lot harder than Chan expected because it actually makes him stumble backwards.

“Wanna say that again?” Minho spits out, his eyes burning with a vitriol Chan has never seen before. He takes a step forward and Chan briefly wonders if he will actually have to fist fight Minho, when Jisung skids into the kitchen, getting in between the two of them and gently pushing Minho back.

“Min, fuck’s sake, calm down,” he mumbles, softly but insistently, his hands smoothing over Minho’s chest soothingly. Behind them Chan sees you in the doorway, eyes flicking between Jisung and Minho, only landing on Chan once you’re reassured Minho is not about to explode. You give him a pained smile.

“Sorry, we tried to tell him it was a bad idea to talk to you about this,” you say gently, but Chan shakes his head and scoffs

“Well, I told you it was a bad idea for the group to fool around in the studio, we shouldn’t have done it.”

You sigh and shake your head in turn, but you’re still as calm as you were, not letting Chan rile you up.

“It’s not about that, he doesn’t have a problem with the two of us fucking around, for example” you say, and Chan stares at you in disbelief.

“That’s …” his anger has momentarily dissipated in favour of … genuine concern, “that’s a little fucked up, Y/N, that he doesn’t get jealous of you. I don’t think that’s good for you.”

He hears Minho make an angry noise before Jisung slaps his arm and shushes him with a quiet “enough out of you, let Y/Nie handle it.”

You give Chan a big, genuine smile.

“I really appreciate you worrying for me, Channie,” you say, “but that’s not what this is about.“

Chan feels his anger rise again.

“Then what is it about? I don’t fucking understand!” he exclaims, probably loud enough for Hyunjin and Changbin to hear at this point. But you still don’t match his anger.

“I need you to put yourself into Minho’s shoes for a second,” you say calmly, “because what he sees is a straight guy who suddenly goes bicurious because of his boyfriend.”

Oh.

OH.

It all clicks into place and Chan cycles through realisation, embarrassment, and then relief in the 5 seconds it takes for him to respond to you. Chan almost laughs, but bites it back when he sees Minho’s fists clench by his sides.

“Oh, Minho, I’m not trying to steal your boyfriend!”, he shouts, staring at Minho’s narrowed eyes, “I’m not into Jisung like that, not at all.”

He thinks he sees Minho relax minutely

“It just happened, okay? It was a spur of the moment, heat of the moment kind of thing. I’m not into Jisung,” he says insistently.

“Trust me, I told him that, too,” Jisung says, turning around enough to give Chan a weary smile.

Minho makes an undignified noise, his face burning and his eyes still wild.

“So, what? You see two people fuck in your studio and suddenly your whole sexuality changes? And I’m supposed to not find that weird?” Chan can tell Minho’s feeling pretty damn stupid now.

“No, no, you’re right, that does sound really awful when you say it like that, it’s understandable,” he reassures him, catching you giving him a grateful look.

“I won’t touch Jisung again, I promise. I won’t touch Y/N either, we will just pretend this never happened, okay?” Chan suggests gently. He doesn’t expect you to speak up.

“Oh, you can touch me, I’d like you to touch me again, actually,” you say coyly, giving him a wink when he looks your way. Chan just blinks at you, his mouth falling open.

“Your guys’ relationship is really complicated,” he says unhelpfully and you just laugh.

“It’s really not, but I’ll explain it to you some other time.”

Chan just nods at you, noticing the blush on your cheeks as you smile at him.

Jisung gives Minho a little box in the chest.

“Right, so are you happy now, Min? Chan is not into me, I’m not into him, we will not fuck again, boundary drawn, honour defended, blah blah.”

Minho gives Jisung a glare but there’s no bite to it. He nods first at Jisung, then, hesitantly, at Chan, who returns his nod, quietly.

“Great,” Jisung sighs out and claps his hands together, “now we can go back to my room and watch Howl’s Moving Castle and cuddle.”

You giggle endearingly and turn around, Jisung herding Minho back into his room and giving Chan an awkward smile before he closes the door behind them.

Chan just shakes his head, turning around to shove his food back into the microwave.

series masterlist // skzms' general masterlist // ko-fi

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[aeyla]

⚝ Third Wheel

⚝ Fem!Hyunjin x (afab) Reader x Bang Chan ⚝ 4.1k ⚝ Stories published on this blog are not exhaustively tagged for their entire content to prevent spoilers. See here and proceed at your own risk. — Hothusbanding/threesome, ambiamory, copious amounts of thirst talk and obscene confessions, recreational drug use, cumplay.

❥ It would be wrong if you were attracted to one of your best friends since they are in a relationship, but you don't know what the protocol is when you have the hots for both of them.

Belated Chris birth shenanigans and a tiny Kinktober contribution.

You’d known them for years. The it couple making bitches die of jealousy, and rightfully so. Both criminally gorgeous, the life of every party, and madly in love with each other.

Hyunjin and Christopher.

You had been the third wheel to the duo since forever to the extent that it was the recurring punchline of throuple jokes. It was always ‘Hyun, Chris, and Peach’, or HyunPeachTopher. 

When the peach talk happened, it was actually the farthest context from being risqué. You were just peeling some in the kitchen to make parfait, and all of a sudden Hyunjin picked one up and showed it to Chris going, “Hey, doesn’t this remind you of her ass?” When Chris acknowledged, you blushed so hard that they started teasing you with this every chance they got. 

And the name stuck.

Your best friends, your shoulders to cry on, your partners in crime, and all that jazz, but you would be lying if you said they never inappropriately popped up in your head when you were playing solo.

Who wouldn’t, though? It was like being friends with the classiest pornstars. 

You had a complicated relationship with them because while you loved them both to death, they were also… awakening things in you. Separately and together. Things that you were not willing to admit out loud. 

And you had to live your life as if you weren’t hardcore lusting after them.

Keep reading

© 2023 cb97percent. Translations & reposts of any kind are prohibited.

[aeyla]

After seeing Stray Kids do the breakup challenge I can imagine Jisung asking his partner to fake breakup with him so he can get a feel of what it's like so he can write lyrics about how it made him feel but after being so offended that they actually did it for him 😭

he'd be so aksjdhaskhd this is the most jisung coded thing ever

"Okay."

Jisung gapes at you, blinks his giant, doe eyes.

"What do you mean 'okay'?"

"We're done."

Jisung's mouth snaps shut. His brow furrows slightly.

You turn to walk away, but he reaches out, catches your wrist in his before you can even take another step.

"W-wait, where are you going? We wanted to get coffee."

When you turn around and meet his sweet, slightly distraught expression, your heart twinges. But he'd been so annoyingly adamant about this that you're not about to give in so easily.

You snatch your wrist away from him and his face falls.

"What do you mean? We just broke up. I'm not going to go get coffee with you," you reply. Your voice is neutral, but Jisung still looks like he's been slapped.

You turn and walk away again. He stumbles after you.

"B-but we had plans," he babbles.

You shrug. Walk faster.

"It's over, Ji. I'll go home now, collect all your things, get ice cream, call Lix and cry about you, mourn the loss of the best relationship I've ever had, in a week maybe go out to drink and hook up–"

Before you can finish your sentence, you're spun around and crushed into Jisung's chest. He's breathing heavily, his arms tight, hands possessively wrapped around now.

"Okay, stop, please, it's freaking me out now. Like, really freaking me out, like ... I'm kinda panicking ..." he mumbles, and you can hear how his voice shakes, his heart thunders in his chest. Your resolve melts and you wrap your arms around him, too. Squeeze him tight. He breathes out a sigh of relief.

"That was the worst idea I've ever had," he whispers, buries his nose into your hair and presses a long kiss to your scalp, "that was scary. I thought about what it would be like if you actually walked away and for a second there I thought I was gonna die. Like my heart nearly stopped."

He nuzzles closer into you, takes another shaky breath. You rub a hand soothingly up and down his back, breathe deeply against the warmth of his t-shirt.

"I don't want to break up with you, my Jiji," you mumble, quietly, "I love you so much."

Jisung forces out a shaky laugh.

"Please don't break up with me. I love you, too, so unbelievably much. Don't ever leave ... I mean, that sounds kinda toxic, but you know what I mean like ... I hope you never leave me. I don't ever want you to leave me, or to lose you. Like, I don't know what I would do without you at this point. Life is so much better with you."

You cut off his rambling with a wet kiss to his neck and he stops, sighs, pulls away just enough to be able to look at you. His eyes are a little wet. Oh, your sweet, sensitive boy. You smile at him.

"I love you, okay? I'm not going anywhere. You make me the happiest in the world, I don't want to do this without you either."

This seems to calm him a little, but he nonetheless tugs you close again, presses you into his chest with an arm around you and a solid palm at the back of your head, his own face pressed against yours.

"Think you got enough for a song?"

Jisung makes a sound like a wounded animal.

"I will need like three days to recover from this emotionally. Fuck the song."

[aeyla]

SHUT UP. I actually spent all day reading this and got ✨nothing✨ done because of it. Thank you for writing this 😭 no notes - *chefs kiss* perfect.

The gasp I guspt when I realized Hyunjin had been home the whole time…

｡𖦹°‧ better off as lovers, not the other way around seo changbin x f!reader x hwang hyunjin

summary: Changbin is in love with his two best friends. When he introduces you and Hyunjin to each other and Hyunjin ends up asking you out, Changbin has to finally confront the feelings he's been ignoring for 7 years. it doesn't go so well.

word count: 24.9k words

author's note: ♫ racing through the city, windows down, in the back of yellow checkered caaars ♫ bonus points to whoever notices my song reference hehe anyways HI! I've been really liking writing longer form, more serious stuff, and this is my first foray into the question of "what if they didn't slip so easily into polyamory"? I like how it turned out. It's pretty sad, but I promise, there's a happy ending on the horizon big thank you to @hyunjins-dimples for being my voice of reason and giving me feedback when I was losing my mind kjsadhjsh I adore you

warnings: angst with a happy ending!; unprotected sex; mxm action; friends to lovers; mentions of panic, could be categorised as panic attacks, but aren't written as such; no cheating but kissing someone even though they're casually seeing someone else; implied bottom/switch!changbin; a tiny bit of internalised homophobia

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

Changbin thinks he might be the stupidest motherfucker alive.

He doesn’t usually think that way about himself, no. If you asked him on a normal, he’d probably say he’s pretty smart. A good dancer, good singer, even better rapper. Well-adjusted. Always willing to go the extra mile. A good support system for his members. A decent person.

And in his defence, how should he have known.

How should he have known that the dumbest thing he could ever do is introduce his two best friends to one another?

Chan would tell him to cut it out, to not talk about himself like that, but Chan isn’t here. He isn’t here because this is so bad that he hasn’t even told Chan about it – and he tells Chan everything.

What would he even say? “Chan! You know Y/N, my best friend from when we were trainees? I invited her out to bowling and galbi with me and Hyunjin two weeks ago. Yeah, isn’t that nice? Why am I bringing it up, you ask, did something go wrong, did they hate each other? Ha! No, actually! The fucking opposite! They met and there were sparks fucking flying everywhere! There was blushing and lingering glances, they got along like a house on fire. They even exchanged numbers at the end! Holy fuck!”

No, he couldn’t say that, because then Chan would ask why that’s a problem and Changbin would have to tell him that he’s been in love with his best friend ever since the day you walked out of JYP Entertainment with your head held high to pursue your own, independent music career at a company that actually valued you – and how he never stopped being in stupid, pathetic puppy love with you. He would have to tell Chan that it was because of that stupid, pathetic puppy love that he sometimes dropped everything and abandoned Chan to his own devices. Because he couldn’t resist sinking into the couch in your warm, cozy apartment, far away from the rest of the world, your cute little socked feet pressing into his thighs, and sometimes when he's lucky, your bare, cold feet digging into his thighs seeking warmth, the TV on some random drama, sipping ciders and snacking on things and talking about everything and nothing until the early hours of the night.

If Changbin was lucky, that would be all that was needed to explain it to Chan, but Chan had always known him too well. He would be his usual, annoyingly perceptive self, and ask what else it was, force Changbin to spill his fucking guts until there was nothing left. And then, boy then he would have to look his leader in the face and admit that for all these years, every single time he flirted with Hyunjin ‘for the camera’, it wasn’t for the camera at all. It was actually a chance for him to be really selfish, to vent some of his very much not platonic, probably gay (bisexual?) feelings for his member, feelings that have been haunting him for the better part of two years.

And then, if Chan wasn’t distracted by the fact that Changbin just basically came out to him, would probably ask “both?” and Changbin would nod and Chan would ask something along the lines of “but what if one of them likes you back? Then what about your feelings for the others?” and Changbin would probably either run out or just start crying. Because he doesn’t know.

But ironically, it seems that neither will be an issue because he’s here, sitting across from you in your company’s cafeteria, willing his heart to start beating again.

“You … what?” he asks, dumbly.

“Hyunjin and I have been texting,” you repeat, seemingly nonchalant, but you’re not looking at him. He knows you well enough to know that this is you being nervous.

“Okay …” Changbin hears himself say, but even he can hear the trepidation in his voice.

“At first it was just about that portable watercolour set he talked about, and then we just kinda … kept talking. It’s nothing crazy, I just … thought I’d tell you, you know. Since he’s your friend.”

“Best friend,” Changbin mumbles, and you lift your head from the straw of your Americano that you’ve been jiggling around the ice in the cup with for the last five minutes. If it had been anyone else, Changbin would’ve told you to cut it out within 20 seconds. But you’re you.

You blink at him, laugh awkwardly.

“I thought that was me,” you joke. Changbin doesn’t laugh. You stare back at your coffee. Swirl the straw around the ice.

“He asked me to go to this art exhibit with him this weekend.”

Oh, good. You have common interests.

Changbin tries to will the bitterness away, but it only settles deeper into his chest with every one of your words.

“Apparently it’s this design exhibition, he said it would really match my vibe.”

Stupid fucking suave, charming, fucking PERFECT Hwang Hyunjin.

“Ha, that sounds fun.”

Changbin cringes. The bitterness in his voice is really fucking obvious.

“Does it?” you ask, eyeing him across the table, something unreadable in your face. He feels like you’re staring right into his soul.

“Didn’t think that was your kinda thing.”

Anything would be my thing if I was with you. Or if he asked me to go. Goddammit.

He shrugs.

“Maybe not, but it sounds like something you two would enjoy.”

Why the fuck would you say that, Seo Changbin.

You eye him suspiciously before you pick up your iced coffee again.

“I think so, too. And to be honest, I’d love to spend some more time with him, we really hit it off the other day.”

Changbin forces a smile onto his face.

“You did.”

It’s not a question, just a … confirmation? Changbin has long lost any idea of what he’s trying to do.

You swirl the ice around in your cup in silence for so long, Changbin nearly reaches out and rips the cup out of your hand, but then you say something that pulls the floor right out from under his feet.

“And I mean he’s obviously stupidly attractive …”

Changbin swears his eye twitches.

“He’s alright.”

Your head snaps up, eyebrows shooting up to your hairline. There’s an obnoxiously smug grin on your face.

“Sorry? You’re literally always gushing about him. Flirting with him for the fans. You’re like his biggest fan. President of the Hwang Hyunjin fan club. Ready to drop to your knees to ask for his hand in–“

“Alright, I get it!” Changbin interrupts you, too fast, too loud. Some people in the cafeteria turn to look his way, disapproval written all over their faces.

You don’t care about them. You’re just sitting opposite him, giggling. “So, do you think that’s what this is? That he’s asking you on a date?” Changbin asks, tries his best to keep his voice down.

You shrug, seemingly nonchalantly, but there is a dusting of a blush on your cheeks. It suits you so well. The fact that it’s for Hwang Hyunjin makes Changbin want to do something drastic.

“I don’t know. I’ll just see how it goes. Go in with no expectations. But if it ends up being one … I wouldn’t complain.”

Changbin swallows down a hysterical scream.

A few beats of awkward silence stretch between you before you get up, and nearly knock your coffee over in the process. Changbin’s hand shoots out on instinct, but you manage to catch it just in time, your hands meeting on the cold, wet plastic. You stay suspended, in that moment, for a second before you shake it off.

“I gotta go back to work, they’re probably waiting for me in the studio.”

Changbin rises. His body feels two sizes too large, his brain a foggy mess.

“We still on for tonight?” he asks. Movie night. At his dorm. He doesn’t know if he wants you to say yes, so he can see you again because, god, it’s the highlight of his fucking week, or no, because he doesn’t know how he can sit next two you for several hours while Hyunjin’s contact is in your phone, and you’re probably flirting with him and sending him winky faces and hearts and those witty little innuendos you’re so good at and–

“Yeah, for sure. I really wanna see that movie, and I really wanna see if it works, to point your projector at the ceiling. It sounds magical.”

Changbin smiles, somehow. Walks with you to the exit of the cafeteria. Folds you into a hug that makes his heart sing in his chest, breathing in your smell from your hair, feeling your fingers dig into the meat of his shoulders. The phantom of it accompanies him past the front desk, all the way out into the street and down the few blocks he has to walk back to JYPE.

When he walks into the studio, Jisung is asleep on the couch, wrapped in his big puffer jacket, snoring quietly. Chan swivels around to him, takes one look at him and furrows his brows.

“How’s Y/N? Is everything okay?”

I love her, Chan. I love her, and she’s going on a date with Hyunjin.

“She’s fine. Going to the museum with Hyunjin this weekend.”

Chan freezes, blinks at him once, twice.

“Uhh … she is?”

Changbin drops into the chair next to Chan, busies himself studying the waveforms of the song Chan has pulled up. He makes a casual sound.

“Like … like a date?”

Changbin wants to scream. He swallows it. Shrugs. Pretends he doesn’t care.

But Chan’s confused, concerned gaze keeps returning to him, boring into the side of Changbin’s head until Changbin can’t stand it any more.

“So, did you figure out the pre-chorus?” he asks, a little more forcefully than he has to, but Chan gets the memo. He only sighs before he turns to the computer and shows him what he worked on. But his brain doesn’t allow him any such mercy. Every time he gets distracted for a few minutes, gets lost in figuring out how to make a line of his rap flow better, or finds the perfect little percussion to add to a track, it only takes a few minutes, like clockwork, before the thoughts come back.

Falling in love with you had been as easy as breathing.

He didn’t plan on it, god no, if anything, he didn’t want to fall in love with you. Or anyone for that matter. He just joined the company, too young, ripped from anything and anyone he’s ever known on a mad chase for some bigger dream that he didn’t know if he would ever achieve. He met you a week in, and you immediately clicked. Not in a way that made sparks fly or his heart race, no, quite the opposite. You just slotted yourself into his life like you were always meant to be there. Like there had always been a hole where you belonged until you filled it.

He didn’t know anyone, and you weren’t the most outgoing, so it was easy for you to seek each other out during breaks, during mixed dance practice, after gruelling days of evaluations to eat chicken in secret and cry about how fucking cruel everything was until you somehow managed to laugh again.

And even as the months went on and you both settled in, found your footing in this new world you were dropped into, and found more friends among the other trainees, nobody ever could come between you. Like you found each other and mutually decided to never let go again.

He didn’t fall in love with you right then, neither could he blame anything on the hormones because the two of you never went there. And it’s not like you were the only girl around, far from it. And trainees were hooking up left and right. Even he got roped into a one-night stand here and there and one very messy love triangle situation at some point, but you never went there with each other. When you hooked up with Chan at the company party one year, right after the latter joined, Changbin chalked up his discomfort to the fact that he and Chan and Jisung were starting to make music together, and he didn’t want any potential drama between you and Chan to get in the way of that.

As things for Changbin started going better and better, as him, Chan and Jisung really found their footing as 3Racha, making music and gaining so much respect from the other trainees and from all the managers and teachers, everything started falling apart for you. You were overlooked for several groups, dismissed for your talents. And Changbin tried to be there for you, but you must’ve felt it, too. The distance between where you were and where he was, where you wanted to be, grew too big. So before long, you stopped confiding in him. Stopped letting him see your tears, only the remnants of them in your bloodshot eyes the next morning. And he felt awful about it.

But then you did the unthinkable. Something he’d never seen anyone do. You walked out.

And it wasn’t just that you quit, no, you went out with a bang. A screaming match in a meeting room right down the hall from the dance practice room where everyone was gathered for evaluations, then a slam of the door and you, stalking down the hallway, with your head held high.

Changbin followed you, watched stupidly as you raged, emptied your locker, stuffed everything into a big plastic bag. He didn’t even say goodbye, frozen in place, suddenly hyper aware of two things.

One, his best friend was leaving, leaving him behind in the lion’s den, and he had no idea how he would manage it all on his own. The thought of not being with you made him sick to his stomach. He wanted to be with you, always, in every single way.

Because, and that was the second thing he realised as he watched you walk away from him, he was in love with you.

He didn’t hear from you for three weeks, three weeks he spent distracted and irritable and so, so sad and experiencing what Chan had to tell him was a broken heart. How should he have known?! He had never been in love before.

He was still reeling when he met Hyunjin. Gorgeous, tall, ethereal Hyunjin, who danced like his body was made for it, who had the cutest, dimpled smile that lit up Changbin’s whole body with fireworks when he aimed it at him.

And Changbin suddenly had to deal with the knowledge that he might be bisexual.

You texted him for the first time a month and a half after you walked out. You apologised for disappearing on him, citing your own bitterness, how you couldn’t face him while his life was so clearly headed for the stars and yours was so uncertain. But there was something else in your voice, too. You told him you were with a new company now, and if he wanted to hang out. Like old times. You phrased it like a question.

You met at your favourite sushi restaurant, not far from JYPE. You told him about your new company, about their plans for your solo career. And Changbin told you about Hyunjin. He didn’t say that he was in love with him in so many words, but in retrospect, he always knew that you knew. And, of course, you accepted him. And just like that, you were friends again.

Changbin figured he would grow out of his crush on Hyunjin, out of his unrequited love for his best friend, but that day never came. And slowly, Changbin accepted that this was just how things were going to be. At least until his worlds collided, and he introduced you to each other.

He carries his bitter thoughts around with him, hiding them, as best as he can, all day. Through work, dinner with Chan and Jisung in the studio. Through a quick gym session and into the shower, where he stays for way too long, letting the boiling water scorch his skin until it’s red.

Maybe it’s not a date! With the way you were stealing glances at Hyunjin? The way Hyunjin always served you first? Asked you so many questions about your career? Got excited when you said you liked art?? Two beautiful, single people with common interests don’t meet and stay friends. Not when they’re Y/N Y/L/N and Hwang Hyunjin.

Maybe it’s not so bad! But it is. What is he going to do? Will he have to go to your wedding? Organise your stag do? Can he be trusted not to turn into the worst kind of person and get horrendously drunk and try to kiss you before it’s too late? Will he even be friends with you still when your wedding day comes? Maybe he manages to fuck it all up way before then.

Maybe it won’t work out between them! That’s not any better. The thought of his two best friends heartbroken about each other, avoiding each other when they inevitably have to meet again … Having a lapful of either of them, upset about someone else? God, no. And it’s not like it changes anything about the fact that Changbin is hopelessly in love with you both. Though the status quo, him, pining secretly, quietly, seems likely to be the best thing he’s ever going to get.

No, it won’t do. He’s stuck. He’s stuck and doomed to sit here, with his hands tied, to watch whatever it is that’s happening between you and Hyunjin unfold, from the sidelines. It makes his skin itch.

By the time you text him that you’re outside, asking him to buzz you in, he actually considers making something up about not feeling well, about being held back at the company, anything … But he’s always been weak for you. So he lets you in.

The moment you turn the corner of the hall and see him, a wide smile lights up your face and Changbin can’t help it, his whole body relaxes a little, the warmth of your presence melting some of the pressure of his shoulders. And then you skip the last few steps to make it to him and fling yourself into his hug, and he holds you tight and thinks that maybe this is enough. Maybe he’ll be alright as long as he can have this.

It’s casual, familiar, the way he invites you in without a word, the way you know where to put your shoes, where to pull out the guest house slippers, and immediately pick the pink ones you always use. For a brief moment, Changbin wonders if a few months down the line you will be doing all of this when you visit Hyunjin. If it will be him, then, watching you go through these motions, before he gets to lead you to his room and kiss you and touch you however he wants to and know he can have you for the rest of his life.

“Where is everyone?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen, set down the convenience store bag Changbin hadn’t even noticed was dangling off your wrist.

Changbin shrugs.

“Chan and Jisung are still at the studio, and probably will be for a while. They looked like they were getting into one of their zones when I left.”

You give him an adorable, playful smile.

“Aw, you skipped out on one of your intense 3racha studio nights for me? Why do I actually feel flattered?”

Changbin forces a smile. Silly you, I would do anything for you. He shrugs.

“Wasn’t feeling it today. Plus, I wanted to hit the gym.”

You nod absentmindedly, stare at the convenience store bag for a second, before you speak again.

“… and Hyunjin?” you ask without looking at him. Daggers. A hundred daggers to his chest. He clears his throat, tries to sound as casual as he possibly can.

“Honestly, no idea where he is, I haven’t seen him since I got home, so I guess he’s out somewhere.”

You hum, nod, then busy yourself with rooting around the bag.

“So I got us a bunch of savoury snacks, since I know you like those better,” you say, your voice back to being upbeat. Changbin does his best to catch up with his heart still aching. “But I also got some sweet ones.”

You lift up some Chocosongi with a smile and Changbin forces a smile back.

It hurts, how simple it all is. How easily you slip into habit. How normal it feels for him to hand you a pair of his sweatpants to change into in the bathroom, to unpack the snacks while you’re changing, dig up the projector from the bottom of his backpack, pile up the pillows on his bed until they are at the perfect fluffiness. How sweet you look when you skip back into the room and collapse on his bed, on your dedicated side, curling up on your side, pretending to go to sleep, with a devastating little fake snore, because “your bed is way too cozy, Bin.”

It hurts, but he smiles, because how could he not. He plays along, exclaims a soft “Yah! you wanted to see this movie!” and turns off some of the lights until the whole room is bathed only in the soft warm glow of the lamp on his bedside table, ignores the ache and settles in next to you.

He remains on his back as he fiddles with the projector, and once he’s got it on and connected to his phone, he sets it on the sheets between you, and you squeal with pure delight. It looks great, even he has to admit, the size of the movie just right, the colours vivid but soft against the white of his ceiling, the warm glow of light in his room making it look nothing short of magical.

Changbin wishes he could turn and see it reflected in your face, your eyes probably sparkling with it, but he doesn’t trust himself not to break down crying or say something he might regret. So instead, he just clicks up the volume another notch, takes the opened bag of chips you offer him, and settles back.

He hadn’t realised just how exhausted he was, but lying here, the pillows, the duvet, so soft and inviting underneath him, your warm body next to him, calmly rising and falling with every breath, not really touching much, but still comfortingly there, your socked foot pressed against his calf, the back of your hand resting against his shoulder where it’s curled under your cheek, brushing against him every time you reach for one of the little chocolate mushrooms … the exhaustion sinks into his bones and makes him melt into it. The movie, its music and dialogue coming through the speaker of his phone between you, the taste of the salty snacks on his tongue, your soft voice when you give your commentary on something that’s happening. How the sheets rustle when you move to reach for another little chocolate mushroom. He can smell you, your perfume like a soothing balm on his nerves, and he wishes he could freeze time and just stay here, with you, like this, forever.

He’s almost dozing off when you mumble something and Changbin turns his head to you without thinking and suddenly, you’re face to face on his pillow, your nose only a bare few centimetres from his. Changbin is suddenly wide awake and he holds his breath.

And you … do, too. You suck in a breath, eyes wide, blinking rapidly, gaze dipping down to his lips. There’s so much softness in it, softness that Changbin never thought he would get to see directed at him. That and … fear?

“Bin,” you mumble, absentminded, like you’re just saying his name to see what it will taste like. Your warm breath, sweet and chocolatey, fans against his lips, and he watches, frozen, entirely helpless, as you carefully tip your face forwards and press your lips to his.

Any thought he could’ve had evaporates the moment you kiss him. His eyes flutter shut readily, and he gasps into your lips in a way he’s sure he would be embarrassed by, if he had his wits about him. It’s a soft kiss, just a touch of your lips to his, then another even lighter one. Only when you hesitate, make as if to pull back, he realises he didn’t kiss you back. His hand shoots out, cradles around the soft expanse of your cheek, your jaw, and he pulls you back in because if this is all he’s ever allowed to have, he needs you to at least feel how much he wants you.

And he kisses you now. Properly. Presses his lips against yours firmly, but gently, tasting every ridge of them, greedily breathing in the dizzying scent of your skin where his nose is pressed into the soft skin of your cheek.

It’s like every single one of his daydreams, but better. Because when your lips open up for him, you taste real, the chocolate on yours mixing with the salt on his own tongue to create an intoxicating balance and underneath it all, he can taste something he knows, is undeniably the taste of you.

This time, neither of you pull back. It’s like the floodgates have opened and Changbin’s desire has finally been unleashed and there’s no stopping it now. Pandora’s box is open, and it’s all right there. Halfheartedly, he tries to keep his hope locked away, but his desire is free, trembles through him with every swipe of your tongue until you’re panting, gasping into each other’s lips with every wet slide of your mouths.

Changbin’s tongue is hungry, but his shaking hands hover helplessly, one still cradled around the side of your face, the other resting on his own stomach, itching to reach out but … he’s not sure how much he’s allowed. He doesn’t want to overstep, to make you uncomfortable, but then, as if you can read his mind, you scoot closer, so eagerly you knock over the projectors, fist your hand into the material of his t-shirt at his waist to pull him closer and Changbin’s entire brain short-circuits. He needs more.

Parting his lips from yours is a superhuman feat, but he does so, only enough to be able to blearily reach between you and get the damn projector and his phone out of the way, locking his phone, shutting off the movie in the process, and blindly shoving both it and the projector onto his nightstand. His phone thuds onto the carpet, but he doesn’t care, because you’re pouncing on him again as soon he turns back, pulling him against you with greedy hands until he can feel every inch of your warm body pressed against his, every arch of your back, slide of your foot against his calf.

In the silence of the room, without the movie playing in the background, Changbin can hear the slick slide of your tongues, every single hitch of your breath and all of it is so much, entirely too much almost in a way that is addicting.

And he doesn’t know if he’s crazy, but somehow, you’re still here, kissing him, trying to press even closer, as if it was possible, making the prettiest sound into Changbin’s mouth, until you throw your leg over his hips and grind forward and Changbin moans, pathetically. He’s hard. Embarrassingly so. Pulsing and aching, probably leaking into his underwear, and you seem to like it, because you grind (what Changbin can hardly think about without losing his damn mind) your clothed pussy down harder and moan right back.

You want this.

The thought drowns him, and he finally stops resisting, flips himself until he’s almost on top of you, dragging his palm down until he can grab your ass and grind you over his cock and oh, fuck.

You whimper, your mouth momentarily going slack against his, allowing him to suck your bottom lip between his own, drawing another perfect little mewl from you. Your hips twitch, make an aborted little move, chasing the friction of Changbin’s body, and he doesn’t have to be told twice. He ruts forward, uses his strength to grind you to meet him over and over again, and it feels so good, makes pleasure pool in Changbin’s abdomen at an alarming rate, his mind going fuzzy with the chase of his orgasm.

But before he loses himself, in a moment of lucidity, that he has no idea where it came from, he pulls back.

Which he almost immediately regrets, because you’re staring up at him, chest heaving, face flushed and dewy, lips shiny and swollen, your gaze so glassy and filled with so much trust, it makes reality crash over him.

“Y/Nie … baby …” he mumbles, and you must’ve heard something in his voice because panic flashes over your face, and you shake your head.

“N-no, Binnie, please,” you whisper, shaky hands reaching out, trying to pull him in again, “I need you.”

Changbin doesn’t know how he resists the gentle demands of your fingertips, how he pulls away another few inches before you make a sound that is so heartbreaking it keeps him frozen in place.

“Y/Nie I can’t …” he starts, but words fail him. What was he going to say? Tell you not to go out with Hyunjin? Tell you he loved him? That he loved you? Tell you, right here, right now? You deserved better than that.

You blink, blink again, and suddenly water is gathering at your lash line.

“It’s okay, Binnie, it doesn’t have to mean anything,” you beg, and the words feel like a slap in the face. “Just … just please, kiss me, touch me, fuck me. I need you. Please. Just … just this once, we can never talk about it again.”

Changbin should walk away. He knows it. He should get up, put some distance between you, save himself a lot of heartache and you the embarrassment of having to break your best friend’s heart.

But …

But this might be your last chance a selfish, petty part of him pipes up.

He doesn’t know how he is going to live with just this one time. How he’ll go for the rest of his days knowing what your body tastes like without ever getting to have it again, but he’ll learn. It can’t be worse than the heartache of never knowing.

When he dips back down, presses his lips against yours, you sigh in relief.

Your hands are everywhere – buried in his hair, running down his arms, tugging at the waistband of his sweats, slipping under his hoodie, colder fingers against heated skin, eagerly trying to feel more and more of him until you seemingly have enough. Your fingers tighten in his hair, and you pull, and the sting of it sends a shiver down his spine.

With a surprising amount of strength (though not enough to move him, was he not so ridiculously down bad and pliant for you) you push at him until his back hits the mattress. You swing your leg over his hips and, with a single-minded determination in your eyes, sit yourself right on his cock, making him gasp out your name, before you shove your fingers back under his shirt, rucking it up until he half sits up and lets you pull it off him.

And yeah, he feels exposed like this. Shirtless, underneath you, at your mercy, pressed against the sheets, his belly probably a little softer than usual because he’s been bulking.

But the way you stare at him, rake your eyes over his torso, the way your fingertips trace his skin, the way you bite your lip when goosebumps follow in their wake – he forgets to be self-conscious. Because, yes, you want him, and you’re not holding back an ounce of your admiration, but also, it’s you. He’s never felt as safe with anyone as he has felt with you.

You lean down and kiss him, a lot sweeter now, though still demanding, your palms smoothing over his pecs, up to his shoulder, over his bare arms, like you’re trying to feel every inch of his exposed skin. It makes him feel dizzy.

You pull back and stare at him, breathing heavily, your sparkling eyes so close to his that the barely contained I love you nearly slips past his lips.

“C-can I suck you off?” you whisper, and Changbin briefly wonders if he’s going to survive this.

He lets a tentative hand travel up your arm until he can smooth your hair out of your face. You blink, lean into his touch, and your breath hitches. He burns.

You’re still staring at him, waiting for the answer to your question, and he breathes out a shaky laugh. Instead of answering, he, as carefully as he can, flips you back underneath him. But now the way you’re staring up at him is even worse for his heart.

“I’m going to bust so fast if you do that,” he confesses and watches you giggle, “maybe next time.”

Next time?

He wants to slap himself.

You blink at him, something unreadable in your eyes, and then you nod.

“Next time,” you whisper, sadly, wrap your hand around his neck and pull him down. It’s the sweetest kiss yet, something in it that Changbin can’t place, that makes his heart thud heavily in his chest.

One of your legs wraps around his waist and pulls him down, his cock grinding down right where you need it, and it makes a heavy moan rumble out from deep in your chest. The kiss turns heavier and wetter until Changbin has to come up for air. He keeps his eyes closed, presses wet kisses down your cheek, your jaw, until he hits the neckline of your shirt.

He pulls back, forces himself to breathe, to slow down, to look into your eyes even though it hurts.

“Do you want this? We can stop …” he mumbles. He’s ready — ready to accept this is all he gets, ready to ignore his heart burning a hole in his chest with the inhuman need to slip you out of these clothes and worship every inch of your body. But one word from you, a single shred of doubt in your eyes, and he would stop.

But you shake your head, your face so vulnerable it makes him want to wrap you up in his arms and keep you safe, here, for the rest of your life.

“I want this, I really do,” you whisper, and then, brokenly, you make Changbin’s world spin out of control. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

The words hurt like a knife, because he knows you don’t mean them the way he does.

He doesn’t respond, instead kisses you again, tries to drown everything he can’t say in the rapture that is your lips. He lets his hand wander over the legs he’s been dreaming about, legs wrapped in his sweatpants, wrapped around his hips. He slides his palms up, until he can slip it underneath your shirt and ruck it up and off and tries his best not to lose his head when you’re bared to him and then again when he unclips your bra, mercifully with little to no fumbling, and your nipples and soft skin of your tits and your belly are pressed against his own.

You sigh into him, fingernails digging into his bicep so hard he shudders. He hopes it will leave a mark.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispers. He keeps his eyes closed, unable to face the effect his words may have.

“Touch me, Binnie,” you whisper back, and he shudders again. The way you say his name makes his body thrum with need.

“I will,” he finds himself mumbling, pressing a wet kiss to your jaw, “I will, angel, I’ll make you feel good.”

And with no further hesitation he sits up, places his shaking hands on your hips, thumbs smoothing over the skin right over your waistband.

He’s thought about this a lot, he’s ashamed to admit, but nothing comes close to you right in front of him because — you’re perfect. More perfect than he could have ever imagined, because now he can see all the little birthmarks, all the tiny scars and the light lines of stretch marks, and he tries to drink it all in, tries to catalogue every single thing so he can conjure them up in all his worst fantasies for the rest of his life.

But maybe he took a little bit too long because you’re saying his name again, in that small, vulnerable voice and every single inch of his body is consumed with the need to please you.

So he pulls at your waistband, slowly pulls it down, leaning in until he can press his lips against the skin of your tits, swirl his tongue over your gorgeous, hard nipples, before he goes down, down, over the softness of your belly, your hips, then down your thighs as he tries not to lose his goddamn mind.

Because he can smell you now. You, the smell of your skin, remnants of your shower gel and the lotion you rub in after, but also your arousal, the sweet tang of it coating his tastebuds already before he has even gotten the chance to get his mouth on you.

He slides one leg, then the other out of his sweats, and you let him, one arm slung over your face in overwhelm, making a pretty little noise when they’re all the way off, and you’re naked in front of him.

Changbin can’t resist it. He lets his eyes roam over you as he tentatively palms his rock-hard cock over his own sweats, and pleasure rolls heavy through his whole body.

“Oh, pretty,” he sighs. It just slips out. You whimper, breathe out his name. One of his palms slides up your calf.

“Can I, pretty? Can I touch you?”

You breathe out an airy chuckle that Changbin thinks for a moment feels almost a little sad, before you nod.

“Of course, Binnie, of course you can. Please touch me.”

It’s all he needs.

He lets his palm slide further up your leg, up to your thigh, you part your legs for him effortlessly, offer yourself to him. He lowers himself onto the mattress slowly, eyes glued to where you’re glistening and quivering and smelling so divine his mouth is watering, before he leans in and laves his tongue gently over your clit a couple times, easing you into it.

Your taste sears itself into his taste buds, sweet, tangy, intoxicating, and he wants more, wants to fucking drown in it, in you, and he leans in and attaches his lips to your core, darts his tongue out, laves at your pretty little hole, dips into the wet heat of it, before travelling back up, slick smearing all over his chin as he sucks your clit between his lips.

He’s being messy, and he knows it, his fingers digging into your skin probably a little too deep for comfort, but you’re not complaining, no, of course not, you’re perfect, one of your hands cards through his hair, the other arm thrown over your face as you make the sexiest breathless little noises that almost sound like sobs, and you take it all, every single thing Changbin has to give you.

Your thighs tremble in his hands, your hips stuttering upwards in aborted little movements, your little moans growing in volume, one of your ankles digging into his back and, nonetheless, when you come, whole body shivering, chanting his name, spurting the sweetest sweetness he has ever tasted right into his mouth, it takes him by surprise. He didn’t expect you to come for him so easily, so effortlessly, but you don’t seem to be holding back.

Changbin laps at your release, licks it up and swallows it down while he can before you gently push him away, trembling with the oversensitivity. Your eyes are lidded, your hair a mess and there’s a wet stain on his sheets right underneath your hips, and Changbin can’t believe he gets to see you like this, let alone the fact that he did this to you.

You sit up, gloriously naked and unbelievably beautiful, and reach for him, soft fingers curling around the back of his neck, pulling him forwards until your lips are on his again, and it feels like coming home, sends warm shivers down his spine. He sighs into your lips, and you sigh back, dragging him back down to the mattress with you, skin against skin again, his chest moulding against yours like they were made for each other. He could stay here forever just kissing you, but there’s a fire in his abdomen, a hard, insistent pressure against your body, and your fingers slip under his waistband.

You tuck his sweats and underwear down quickly, one hand still curled around his neck and slipping into his hair, the other shoving at the offending fabric until you can’t reach any more and use your feet to shuck them the rest of the way off — something Changbin shouldn’t find as hot as he does, though he is mightily distracted by the way your tongue is licking against his, the way you’re tugging at his hair, dragging him this way and that into the kiss, making his brain go fuzzy.

When your hand curls around his cock, he physically jolts, his body more sensitive than it’s ever been. He wants to say something, anything, self-consciousness curling in his belly, something about how he knows he isn’t too big, but you don’t give him the chance.

Your hand tightens on him, and he keens, and you whisper a breathless, appreciative fuck into the tight space between you. Wordlessly, with your heels digging into his lower back, you pull him closer, until his lips are back on yours and his cock is pressed against your entrance, and it doesn’t take any convincing for him to follow where you’re leading him and press inside. His moan collides with yours when he bottoms out, your back arching into his arms, and he holds you closer, noses against your jaw, trying to ground himself.

It’s unreal, the feeling of you. Hot, tight, velvety, wet, you. He’s inside of you. His cock throbs and his breath stutters out of him, and somehow you’re right there with him, your fingers shaking as one of your hands anchors itself back into his hair and drags him close.

He doesn’t know how he manages to start moving but when he does, it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt. He grinds forward, buries himself as far as he will go, and you follow him, open your mouth into a gasp, and when he pulls back you chase him, smear your lips against his. Your bodies moving together, sweat slick skin sliding against sweat slick skin, hot breath mingling until he forgets where he ends and you begin. It’s so intimate it makes him feel insane, utterly out of his mind with how overwhelmingly good it is.

He fucks forward harder, and he is rewarded with a gorgeous moan, punched out of you at the same time as his headboard smacks against the wall, and he says a quiet thanks to whoever’s listening that they’re alone in the dorm, because he can do it again, draw another moan out of you.

“B-binnie,” you mewl, and his arms nearly give out. He vaguely registers himself making a shaky, helpless little noise in response. “So … fuck … good … harder.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, his body responding as if it’s an entity entirely separate from his reason, only focused on giving you what you need. He plants his palm against the headboard for leverage and fucks you harder, lets himself go, his own moans colliding with yours between your heated lips, deafeningly loud in the previously quiet room, now resounding with the sound of his hips slamming into yours, the wet slide of your pussy as it swallows his cock, the headboard thunking against the wall – it’s filthy, but it’s like music to him. You’re the best he’s ever had.

You whimper into his lips, drag him in for another kiss, scrape your fingernails over his bicep and heat curls dangerously, deep in his guts, a kind of barbed wire pleasure, building and building. And no matter how much he wishes this could last forever, he knows he won’t last much longer.

He drags his hand from the headboard, down your body, shoves it between your bodies, unwilling to part more than he has to. When he reaches between your legs, where his cock is pumping in and out of you, it’s soaked, and he moans out pathetically. With the first touch of his fingers against your clit, you throw your head back, eyebrows knitted together, lips parted in a beautiful little o and Changbin dives down, peppers kisses all over your jaw and down your neck. He can taste your skin, salty from the sweat, bitter from your perfume, sweet in all the other ways.

Your legs wind around his waist, and it changes the angle, makes his cock drag against your walls just right to make him shudder, and you gush around him, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, trying to hold on.

“P-please,” you sob out, “d-don’t stop … ‘m so close …”

As if he would, Changbin thinks. His fingers are sliding over your clit, and he pumps his hips forward, lets himself chase his own pleasure, just a little bit, and you’re clenching tighter and tighter and then …

You come with a choked moan of his name, walls locking around him, pulsing and fluttering, and it’s almost too much, the knowledge of it, of you underneath him, letting him take you apart like this, trusting him with your body, your pleasure.

With the last, tattered remnant of his reason, he pulls out, wraps his hand around his slick cock and pumps furiously only for a second before pleasure explodes through his body, and he comes in ropes and ropes, all over your belly, the pleasure zinging through his veins so strong it almost knocks him out, if it weren’t for your grounding fingers carding through his hair.

It’s everything he’s ever wanted. It’s entirely wrong.

He shudders through the last dregs of his orgasm, a bead of sweat rolling down the slope of his nose before it drops onto the pillow next to your head. If he breathes in, he knows he’ll smell the combined smell of you and him in your hair.

He pulls back quickly, but is stopped by the opposing force of your hand on his neck, and he realises a beat too late that you were trying to pull him closer. But the damage is done. Your face falls, your hands dropping to the mattress on either side of you. You turn your head as you wait for Changbin to pull out, to climb off you. And in his stupor, in the turmoil of heartache and confusion in his heart, he does.

You look fragile like that, head pillowed on his sheets, knees knocking together as you try to hide, his cum beaded all over your pretty belly.

“I’ll get you a towel, okay?” he mumbles, trying to be as gentle as he can, but it can’t contend with the awkwardness that’s hanging thickly in the air.

He somehow manages to pull on his boxers, stumbles from the room, into the bathroom; he catches a glance of himself in the mirror, his face pale, his eyes wide and scared, and nearly loses his head. In and out, he tells himself. You can’t lose it now, you’ve got to take care of her. No matter what, you’ve got to take care of her.

Eyes glued to his hands, to the sink, he fishes out one of the hand towels under the sink, wrenches the tap to the hottest setting it will go, willing it to heat up faster. He needs to get back to you. He needs to fix this.

As soon as the water is lukewarm, he drenches the towel, squeezes it out and just about resists the urge to run back to his room. But as soon as he steps in and meets your eyes and dread almost overwhelms him. Everything is so wrong.

He approaches the bed, and he can see his own hesitation mirrored in your face, mirrored in the cold hard hurt shivering across your face. He’s frozen with helplessness, unable to figure out what to do, how to fix this thing he’s broken.

You pull the towel out of his numb fingers where he’s standing next to you without moving and start cleaning yourself up, wiping at the sticky residue of his cum, until you’re clean, hurriedly dropping the towel onto the bed next to you and swinging your legs over the side.

“Uh … I should get going,” you mumble, as you awkwardly step around him where he’s still rooted to the spot next to the bed. Only when you’re dressed, does he dare to turn around.

When your eyes meet, it punches the rest of his confidence out of him. You blink and make to turn around, but Changbin takes a step forward, catches your wrist in his hands, holds you back with a desperation that he’s unable to mask.

“Y/N …” he mumbles, his voice hoarse with emotion. You stop easily, let yourself get pulled back to him, just like that. His heart throbs.

“We’re okay, right?” There’s a beat of silence, then you soften, just a little. You nod, and he lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Yeah,” you breathe, “of course we’re okay.”

What washes through him isn’t relief, but it’s something. Maybe hope that he hasn’t irrevocably fucked everything up. He needs you, needs you with him, in his life, however he is allowed to have you. He can’t do this without you. He never could.

He gives your wrist the smallest, gentlest tug – just a suggestion. You step forward and right into his waiting arms.

He folds you against his bare chest, breathes out a shaky breath. He can feel your breath against his collarbone, the softness of your cheek against his shoulders. The comforting weight of you against him. You’re okay. You’ll be okay. He doesn’t know if it’s true. He has to believe it.

It’s only a few moments before you pull back, barely looking at him.

“I still … I’m gonna go …” you mumble, and he nods.

He follows you to the door, uselessly. Watches as you pull on your shoes, carelessly leave the house slippers out, something you never do. You always put them back.

With one last shaky smile, you pull the door shut behind you and Changbin is left behind in the dead silence of the empty dorm to deal with the aftermath.

He manages to make it back to his room before the first sob racks through him, his chest constricting painfully until he can barely breathe. Through his blurry eyes, he rips the sheets off his bed, a button pinging off the pillow case, but he can’t care. He doesn’t bother putting new sheets on, only crawls into bed. And he cries.

And because he really does seem to be the punchline of some cosmic joke, the first person he sees when he stumbles into the kitchen the next morning, is Hyunjin.

He looks up when Changbin walks in, and he freezes, before he turns sharply.

Changbin didn’t even bother looking in the mirror before stumbling out of his room on a desperate hunt for a cup of coffee that would cure his pounding head. He knows he probably doesn’t look dewy fresh and his eyes are probably swollen, but Hyunjin’s reaction nonetheless makes him falter. He hesitates in the doorway.

Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, only keeps his back to him, hands aimlessly fiddling with the coffee machine, pulling out the drip tray, emptying it into the sink even though it’s barely half full, then shoving it back into the machine. It catches on something and there’s a sickening crunching sound that startles him. He pulls it back out and shoves it back in, a little softer this time, though Changbin can see it now. His hands are shaking.

Hyunjin turns abruptly, makes for the door, but then realises Changbin is right there, blocking it, and stops.

A beat passes where Changbin can finally see Hyunjin’s eyes, and he can’t read them at all. He looks … vaguely annoyed. Confused. Upset? Why?

Chan’s door opens and his voice travels down the hallway.

“Yo, is the coffee machine still on?”

Hyunjin opens his mouth, though his answering yes takes a long moment to come out. It only makes its way past his lips when Chan is already pushing past Changbin and into the kitchen.

When Chan’s eyes fall on Changbin, he hesitates, eyebrows knitting together in worry.

“Woah, Bin, you alright? You look rough.”

Changbin drags his eyes away from Hyunjin’s, forces a smile onto his face.

“Yeah, just didn’t sleep well,” he croaks out, and Chan nods understandingly, gives him a pat on the shoulder.

“Did you and Y/N watch something scary again even though neither of you like horror?” he chuckles, as he makes his way to the coffee machine, past Hyunjin who’s now fiddling with his phone, leaning against the counter next to the sink.

Changbin murmurs something to the negative, his heart aching somewhere deep in his chest at the mention of you. Ah, remember when things were normal, he thinks. How they could’ve remained normal, if he hadn’t been so fucking stupid and ruined everything …

“By the way, Jinnie,” Chan asks, slides his stupidly large to go cup under the spout, and presses the button, “did my package arrive last night?”

The coffee machine screams to life, and it makes Changbin’s ears ring.

“W-what? Package?” Hyunjin asks, when the noise stops, shifting his weight from one foot to the other uneasily.

Chan nods.

“It was meant to come yesterday and I figured, since you and Bin were both home, but he was watching a movie with Y/N, maybe you would hear the door? You were home last night, weren’t you?”

Changbin prays. He prays to whatever deity is out there that Hyunjin doesn’t say yes, tells Chan no, he was out, at the other dorm, hanging out with Jeongin or Seungmin or …

“I was,” Hyunjin says quietly, “but I didn’t … hear the door. I was painting.”

Chan nods and pulls out his phone.

Changbin is frozen in place, staring at Hyunjin, who avoids his eyes. If he was home, then he heard. He must have, right? There was no way …

“Ah, typical,” Chan exclaims, makes both Changbin and Hyunjin jump, “it got delayed. It’ll be delivered this afternoon when we have dance practice. Oh well, I’ll let the doorman know. Thanks though!”

He slides the lid onto his to go cup and makes for the door.

“You ready to go, Bin? We have a meeting with the mixing agent in 40.”

Changbin has never been more grateful for an excuse to get the fuck away from Hyunjin for a few hours.

“Y-yeah, just … need a quick shower,” he mumbles, and Chan nods, already walking down the hallway.

"Make it a quick one, I’ll wake Jisung."

Changbin flees from the kitchen without looking back. He thinks he doesn’t breathe until the bathroom lock clicks shut behind him.

Hyunjin heard. Hyunjin heard. It’s … bad. It’s confusing. Most of all, it’s humiliating.

He strips as quickly as he can, faster still when he drags his shirt over his head, and he catches a whiff of your perfume, and it nearly makes him nauseous. He steps in the shower and turns it all the way to cold.

What’s humiliating is not the sex, no, god, it couldn’t have been the sex. That, itself, was earth-shattering, life-changing, nothing short of magical. But the thought of him hearing you like that? Exposing you, exposing Changbin himself, when you trusted him that you were alone? It makes him feel sick.

Worse, what if he heard the awkwardness after. What if he heard Changbin crying. Fuck.

He scrubs shampoo into his hair, body wash down his body. When he rinses away the suds, they expose faint red lines along his shoulder, down his biceps. They ache with the memory of your nails. Changbin shudders.

There’s a knock on the door.

“We’ve got twenty minutes, Bin, we really need to go.”

“Coming,” Changbin shouts back and turns off the water.

He gets out, towels off and finally takes a glance in the mirror. He looks normal, except for the faint red lines … well, those and the giant bags under his eyes. As he stares himself down, he sees his phone light up, and he picks it up at lightning speed. But it’s just Jeongin. Asking if he was going to hit the gym today.

Changbin sighs, puts his phone back down.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

You don’t text him that day. Or the next.

Changbin’s a fucking mess.

He’s distracted. Takes 20 takes to get one part of his rap right. Snaps at Jisung so hard he actually makes him cry. Forgets a meeting. Steps on Felix’s foot during dance practice.

Not that anyone noticed. They all treat him the same, nobody looking at him twice. He doesn’t know what’s pissing him off more, their ignorance, or his own petty, way too emotional reaction to it.

Between that, and Hyunjin’s severe mood swings, Changbin feels like he’s at sea, being tossed back and forth by the whims of anyone but him. And that pisses him off, too.

Hyunjin … he doesn’t know how Hyunjin feels. Because one second, he’s meeting his eyes staring daggers at him through the mirror in the dance practice rooms, muttering something to Felix that Changbin can’t shake the feeling is about him. The next, he bumps Jisung aside when they get into the car to go home and forces himself into the seat next to Changbin, his thigh falling against his – all while stubbornly refusing to look at him. Changbin doesn’t even dare say his name. What was he going to say anyway? “Hey, Hyune, did you hear me and Y/N fuck? Is that why you’re insert-whatever-adjective-here” because it’s not like Changbin can figure it out.

Because Hyunjin drags his palm over his knee before he gets out, but the next morning he slams the bathroom door into his face so hard it nearly breaks Changbin’s nose. But then he fucking stares again, in the dressing room, big, dark eyes burning into Changbin’s back as he is shooed around by the make-up noonas.

But all of it, it doesn’t make any damn sense. Hyunjin’s upset, clearly, but Changbin can’t figure out what he’s upset about – or what he plans to do about it. Is he upset because Changbin fucked you the week before he was meant to take you out? Is that it? Does he think it was some petty move to keep his best friend to himself? Except that logic doesn’t hold up very well, now, does it, since Changbin’s pretty sure he fucked up your friendship entirely.

Sometime on Thursday afternoon, he has convinced himself that Hyunjin’s mad because you cancelled on him. It took a while to allow himself to think that way, because the delusions – well, he would love to tell himself you probably just cancelled because you hooked up with anyone, and it didn’t feel fair to Hyunjin, but then again he knows you’re not like that, and then his brain starts to feed him hope, hope that you cancelled because you can’t stop fucking thinking about him the way he can’t stop thinking about you, replaying every single moment, both the good and the bad, until he’s sure he will never forget a single one of your noises, a single one of your unbelievably sexy moans of his fucking name …

But Felix skips and jumps over and makes his whole world turn upside down again.

He bounds over to where Hyunjin is sitting on the floor next to where Changbin is lounging on the sofas, Hyunjin’s hand resting on Changbin’s shoes. He’s still refusing to look Changbin in the eye – but his pinky finger is tracing the line of Changbin’s ankle through his sock.

Changbin wonders if this is what the first symptoms of insanity feel like.

“Hyunjinniiiiieee,” Felix sing-songs, plops himself down on the floor next to Hyunjin and slings one arm over his shoulder. “Do you have plans on Saturday and do you want to go shopping with me?”

Hyunjin hums, leans into Felix’s touch, his hand leaving Changbin’s foot in favour of patting Felix’s hand.

“Sorry, Yongbok-ah, I’m busy,” he hums, his voice calm and honeyed, though Changbin doesn’t miss how he starts fidgeting with his ring.

“Ah, right, you’re going out with Y/nie right?” Felix exclaims and gives Changbin a wide smile, before his attention is back on Hyunjin.

From where he’s sitting, Changbin can’t see Hyunjin’s face, only sees him turn to Felix and nod slightly.

“Forgot about that, sorry, Jinnie,” Felix mumbles, brings his hand to Hyunjin’s back and starts kneading the muscles there. Hyunjin’s head falls forward with a little moan that, on any normal day, would send Changbin’s thoughts straight into the gutter. “What are you gonna do? Or where are you taking her? Wait … is this a … you know?”

Hyunjin bumps Felix with his leg, so hard, Felix lets out a little yelp. He blinks at Hyunjin, then Changbin, before he blushes.

“We’re going to see that exhibition I told you about. The one none of you wanted to go to with me,” Hyunjin states, bluntly, both of his hands now busy twirling his ring around his finger in his lap.

“What?! You didn’t ask me! I would’ve said yes!” Felix exclaims, indignant and wide-eyed.

Changbin doesn’t need to see Hyunjin to know he’s glaring at Felix. There’s nothing Hyunjin hates more than when someone forgets something he said to them.

“Yes, I did. Three weeks ago. When we got chicken. I asked everyone, even manager-hyung. And you said you didn’t care for modern art.” Felix falters, freckled face falling into an expression of embarrassment.

“Oh,” he mumbles, “well, I would’ve gone with you if I’d known nobody else wanted to go.”

Hyunjin scoffs, tosses his hair out of his eyes. He brings his hands up to his face, as if he’s inspecting his cuticles.

“Well, she wanted to go. Really wanted to, actually. She asked me to take her.” He says it nonchalantly, his voice the picture of calm confidence, but Changbin can see the muscles tick in his neck.

‘He asked me to go to this art exhibit with him this weekend’ the memory of your voice says. Changbin tries not to let it get to him. He fails spectacularly.

Hyunjin tosses his head again and gets up, his arm brushing sparks against Changbin’s leg as he gets up.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go shower.”

He’s out the door before Changbin or Felix can say another word.

Then Felix looks at Changbin and Changbin is out of his seat at lightning speed.

“Hyung …” Felix sighs, his eyes big and round and full of pity. Changbin shakes his head.

“You don’t like that Hyunjin and Y/N are going on a date?”

Changbin doesn’t answer, focuses instead on shoving his towel, his bottle, his phone’s portable battery, all of it into his backpack.

“It’s okay if you don’t, you know?” Felix tries again, “but then I think you should tell them, instead of keeping it inside.”

“Yongbok-ah …” Changbin says, warningly, and it comes out a lot meaner than he intends to. He watches Felix flinch and sighs.

“Please, drop it.”

Felix deflates and Changbin feels even worse.

“Fine,” he mumbles, “but if you do end up wanting to talk about it, I’m here, okay?”

Changbin nods, pats Felix’s shoulder and gets up.

Changbin knows that he won’t. He can’t even begin to think of confessing all of this to Chan, how could he unload it onto Felix, his most precious dongsaeng. But he knows Felix will feel better if he agrees. So he lies.

“I will, thank you, Yongbok-ah.”

When Changbin’s phone buzzes on the mixing desk next to Chan at 1am on Friday night, 12 hours out from when he presumes your date with Hyunjin is, Changbin doesn’t even bother to check it.

But Chan glances over and picks it up.

“Y/N’s texting,” he says, casually, and hands Changbin his phone, like Changbin’s heart didn’t just fall into his ass.

If he was alone, Changbin doesn’t know if he would’ve checked it. But Chan is right there, and he doesn’t have the strength to make up an excuse for why he would be ignoring a text from his best friend. So he unlocks his phone.

from: Y/Nie hey hey Y/Nie is typing….

“Do you think we should keep Seungmin’s first or second take?” Chan asks. Changbin blinks at him and Chan presses play, brows furrowed, eyes glued to the screen.

They sound identical.

“I think the first one’s better, right?” Chan muses, and Changbin’s phone buzzes in his hands.

“Yeah, totally,” he mumbles, and whips his head back down. You texted again. His heartbeat picks up.

from: Y/Nie sorry for the radio silence 😅 kinda had to convince myself you didn’t hate me because you didn’t text me either but then I realised that that is hypocritical of me so here I am … please don’t hate me

Butterflies. A swarm of them. Something warm, dripping down Changbin’s spine. Regret, still, too much of it to put into words, but mostly … relief.

As quickly as he can, he replies.

from: me of course, I don’t hate you I could never

He tries to calm down, tells himself not to be too honest. Not when the situation is so fragile. Not over text.

from: Y/Nie THANK GOD

The message makes him huff out a laugh, and Chan looks over and gives him a little smile. Changbin blushes.

The dots, the little Y/Nie is typing…. text blinks in and out of existence for a solid minute before your next message pops up.

from: Y/Nie because I kinda really missed you

Changbin takes a deep, steadying breath.

I missed you, too is what he wants to say. I missed you, too, I always do. I wish it hadn’t ended the way it did. I wish I could stop loving you, but I can’t. But I want you in my life in whatever form I can.

from: me I missed you, too I think chan is sick of me actually being at the studio instead of disappearing at some point and leaving him to do his work

Changbin looks up. Chan is humming under his breath, completely relaxed, editing a midi track, his knee bouncing under the table. Sorry, Chan

from: Y/Nie well, we can’t have that! chan needs to write the next big stray kids hit, we can’t have you distract him like that!

from: me yah! you say you missed me and the first thing you do is bully me

from: Y/Nie gotta keep you humble ;)

Changbin sighs. He knows this probably isn’t a solution, pretending like it never happened, just going back to how things were before. But it feels so good. And everything … it’s too big, it’s too much. And if this is the only way your friendship will survive, then he’ll take it. He’ll take whatever you give him.

It’s silent for a few seconds and Changbin wonders if that’s it, but then you text one last time.

from: Y/Nie I gotta sleep now but let’s get lunch next week?

from: me I’d love that night, y/nie

from: Y/Nie night, bin <3

It’s the heart that sustains him, makes him breathe easier for the next half hour and all the way home and into bed. He falls asleep easily for the first time in days, sleeps a dreamless, restful sleep until he wakes up to the sun peeking in through the blinds, the warm sheets – and Hyunjin yelling at Jisung to get out of the bathroom.

The realisation crashes over him without mercy.

Hyunjin is getting ready. To go out. With you.

Dread collects and settles thickly into his bones, makes him bury himself further under the sheets as he fishes for his phone and opens his chat with Chan.

from: me yo what are you doing today? wanna hit the gym and write some music?

He places his phone down on the mattress, and he waits. Listens to the sounds of the traffic outside, of the dorm slowly waking up; hears Jisung screech, then Hyunjin yell something, before a door slams.

His phone buzzes.

from: cb97 sorry, man, already at the gym now having lunch with young-hyun later probably won’t make it to the studio at all today

Changbin buries his face in his pillow and sighs. Hyunjin’s cackle sifts through the cracks in the door.

He can’t stay here. He can’t witness Hyunjin getting all dolled up, wearing some cute outfit, bouncing out of the front door on his merry way to a date that might as well seal Changbin’s fate. No, he needs to figure something out, he needs to go.

So he texts the only other person he knows would willingly spend a Saturday buried in a dark, lightless studio.

from: me yah jisung-ah what are you doing today

If he mentally says a prayer as he waits for his answer, that’s between him and his pillow.

Jisung, predictably, texts back almost immediately.

from: j.one morning hyung~~ probably gonna to the company work on some songs why?

from: me need any help? or want some company? I need to get out of the house today

There’s silence for a minute, and even Jisung’s and Hyunjin’s bickering has gone silent. Changbin tries not to let his paranoia get the best of him. Hyunjin’s getting ready. Jisung is probably just on his phone on his bed. Or texting Minho.

It takes a few minutes before Jisung finally responds.

from: j.one sure! I actually got this rap I would love to get your input on

from: me cool leave in an hour?

from: j.one 👍

And it’s so quiet that Changbin really, really thought he could get away with it. That he could leave the dorm, with Jisung, without bumping into Hyunjin but, of course, he couldn’t.

He opens his door, takes one step, and collides with Hyunjin’s shoulder.

The impact isn’t strong, only enough to send Changbin reeling back a few steps, his backpack dropping from his hand and onto the floor, but that’s not what slams the breath out of his chest.

It’s Hyunjin’s perfume, the one he only wears for special occasions, thick and floral and, at the same time, somehow manly, laced with the smell of his shampoo and his hair, curling into Changbin’s nose and making his mouth water. And it only gets worse when he looks up and meets Hyunjin’s eyes. He’s always been a master at dramatising himself. Unlike Changbin, who’s always just the same, just … Changbin, Hyunjin knows exactly how to dress himself to look the perfect level of casual, yet fuckable. His long black hair is a little wavy, casual, and he’s wearing make-up. Not a lot, for their standards, but just a bit. Just enough. Foundation, a light shade of brown around his eyes that renders them big and soft, soft pink lip balm on his full lips that makes them look obscenely kissable. If Changbin wasn’t already terminally, irrevocably in love with him, he’s sure he would fall in love with him then. He swallows bitterly when he realises that that’s probably actually exactly what Hyunjin is going for. With you.

Hyunjin’s dressed simply, but clearly with intent. Blue jeans, a white t-shirt, that’s just tight enough to sit snugly over his shoulders and his biceps and his … Changbin swallows … his pecs, and …

“Are those Jisung’s shoes?”

The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them. The first words he and Hyunjin have exchanged in three days, and he’s asking about Jisung’s shoes?!

Hyunjin falters for a second, clearly stupefied by Changbin’s question. He nods slowly.

Changbin just nods back, barely manages to look Hyunjin in the eyes.

They didn’t get dressed together. Jisung knows nothing. I’m being paranoid. I’m being paranoid. Changbin, you’re being paranoid!!!!!!

Changbin must really be losing it because Hyunjin’s brows pull together in a grimace of concern that somehow makes him look even more like an angel.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

He sounds like he cares so much. Changbin wants to laugh. Or cry. Or both at the same time.

“I’m fine, Hyunjin-ah,” he forces out, forces a smile as he bends down and picks up his backpack.

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin adds, almost too fast. He sucks his bottom lip, starts gnawing at it. He looks like wants to say something else, but Changbin doesn’t let him. He can’t. Who knows what this conversation could turn into. Hyunjin needs to go meet you and Changbin needs to go to the studio with Jisung. It’s better this way.

“Don’t worry about me,” he chirps, so fake it makes his teeth ache with it, and pushes past Hyunjin as fast as he possibly can. He ignores the new wave of Hyunjin’s perfume that slams into him as he makes his way to the kitchen, where, thankfully, he finds Jisung already waiting.

Jisung’s head whips up when Changbin barges in, and they only widen more when Changbin beams at him and waves him towards the door.

“Let’s go, Jisung-ah!” he exclaims, much too loudly, and turns around before he can see Jisung throw a glance towards the hallway he just came from or look at him with any more of the surprise or the concern that makes Changbin’s stomach turn.

Thankfully, Jisung follows him, doesn’t ask any questions. Only falls into step with Changbin and when Changbin asks, talks about the song he wanted help with. Jisung had always been his favourite dongsaeng.

Changbin manages not to think about you and Hyunjin for most of the day. But what he does think about, a lot, is the moment he would have to face Hyunjin. By the time he drifts off to sleep he’s sure he’s imagined all the worst possible outcomes, Hyunjin stumbling in late at night only half dressed, Hyunjin walking into the kitchen the next morning with hickeys on his neck, Hyunjin with literal hearts floating around his head for all Changbin knows – but none of that happens.

He meets Hyunjin the next day in the kitchen when he goes to get a snack. Hyunjin, dressed in his ratty old sweatpants and his hair tied up haphazardly, is filling the little transparent cup Changbin knows he uses for painting with water by the sink, looks just like he always does. He turns around, sees Changbin, and smiles. A little sheepish, a little awkward, maybe, but he smiles. And Changbin does what he does best. He takes the excuse to delude himself, and he runs with it.

On Monday, they have a schedule. Hyunjin picks the make-up chair next to him. They don’t talk much, but Hyunjin knocks his foot against his and shows him a meme of a little piglet and a bunny being friends about halfway through, a devastatingly pretty smile on his lips. Changbin smiles back.

On Tuesday, Changbin meets you for lunch at your company. You hug him hello, wrap your hand around his arm so you don’t lose him as you pull him through the packed cafeteria. You pick out his favourite melon soda from the refrigerator without him having to ask. You chatter about this album you’re working on, about your parents coming to visit in a couple weeks. You don’t talk about Hyunjin. When you smile at him and sneak half of your helping of chicken onto his plate in exchange for one of his mushrooms, he can’t bring himself to ask. He hugs you goodbye.

On Wednesday, he stays late at the studio with Chan and Jisung. They get into a flow, manage to finish the demos for two songs. Write another, late at night, delirious off sugar and lack of sleep, one that will probably never see the light of day. He loves them. He comes home smiling, waves them off down the hallway to their rooms before he gets himself a bottle of water from the fridge. He takes a little detour past Hyunjin’s room almost automatically. His door is ajar, the light on, but he can hear Hyunjin snore quietly. He creeps in, tiptoes over to the bedside table, where the light is still on, throwing a hazy warm glow over Hyunjin’s sleeping form. Glossy lips parted, eyebrows slightly drawn up, almost like he’s surprised, his hair messily fanned over the pillow half his face is smushed into, he’s the most beautiful thing Changbin has ever seen. He indulges himself, brushes a few of his strands out of his eyes, lets his fingertip drag over the curve of his cheek, before he switches off the lamp and leaves, closing the door behind him.

On Thursday, he catches Hyunjin giggling at his phone, but he’s already convinced himself that the date on Saturday was most likely a dud. Maybe not even bad, just … not as exciting as you’d hoped. Maybe you’d met and the spark you’d both felt wasn’t there. Maybe you said something about the art that gave Hyunjin the ick. Maybe his dreaminess was too much for your pragmatic nature.

Because if it had been any other way, Hyunjin wouldn’t have just gone back to normal, right? Back to leaning against Changbin in the elevator and giggling with him in the kitchen. And you, you would’ve brought it up, right? That first day at lunch, or the countless times you texted after that. Right?

If Hyunjin and you had had a good date, if you’d kissed (a notion Changbin can’t entertain for too long because the mere idea of it makes him dizzy with a lot of confusing feelings that he refuses to decode right now) or if you’d agreed on a second date, if you were still talking, he wouldn’t be here right now, two weeks later, sitting on your sofa at some ungodly hour, ripped from the studio, from Chan who watched him go with a knowing, unsurprised grin, the remnants of delivery tteokbokki and dumplings still on the table and some random drama on the TV.

Your body wouldn’t have been slowly drifting towards his over the last hour, you wouldn’t have slung your leg over his, you … you wouldn’t have fallen asleep snuggled into his shoulder the way you did. Breathing softly, fingers twitching where they were still holding on to him.

And when he carried your half awake form to your bedroom later, tucked you into bed, you wouldn’t have leaned up, murmured his name, wouldn’t have pulled him into the softest, gentlest, kiss, just the pressure of your soft lips against his …

Right?

Except you would, apparently.

Changbin wasn’t meant to go to the company the next day. He was meant to have a day off, and he didn’t mean to work, he just wanted to get his laptop because he forgot it the night before because he was so eager to get out of there to get to yours–

Changbin wasn’t meant to be here.

He wasn’t meant to round a corner and see Hyunjin, standing between your legs where you were sitting on the shoe storage outside the dance practice room, one hand caressing the skin of your back under your shirt, the other pulling your hips closer against his, as if your legs aren’t wrapped around him already. He’s not meant to see you, tonguing into Hyunjin’s open mouth, the lips that were pressed against his not even 12 hours before pulled into a delirious smile as you devour each other.

Nausea rises in Changbin’s throat when Hyunjin giggles, when you bring your hand to gently cup his face. It’s so intimate. It doesn’t take a genius to see that this isn’t the first time you’re kissing either. Changbin’s stomach turns.

He turns on his heels, makes sure not to make a sound until he rounds the corner again, and then he runs.

He makes it into one of the studios before the first tears fall.

Fuck, this hurts worse than he thought it would.

Oh, he’s so fucking stupid.

Fuck, it hurts.

Now that he’s thinking about it, really thinking about it, there had never been any indication that you stopped talking after your date. Hyunjin had gone back to normal, and so did you because … he slams his fist against the side of his head so hard that it aches. He’s so fucking stupid. Of course, you went back to normal – because that’s all you were. Friends. You and him. Hyunjin and him. Friends.

But now that he’s seen it, he can’t stop thinking about it. Your date went well. You met Hyunjin at the museum, probably looked at his stupid casual outfit that showed off his stupidly attractive body, and you had probably worn something equally casual but flattering because you, too, were good at that. And then the two of you had probably walked through the museum and talked about art and life and the human condition, with sparkling eyes, maybe your hands had brushed, maybe Hyunjin had booked the museum for after-hours so you could have it to yourself, and maybe he kissed you in front of some painting and …

His stomach feels like it’s filled with lead.

He wonders if Yongbok knows. If Hyunjin came back from his date and told Jisung and Chan.

Why hadn’t he told him?! A part of him knows, it’s because he heard you and Changbin and … maybe he felt it even before then, Changbin’s resistance to the idea of them dating. Of course, he would. Hyunjin probably knew how fucking pathetically in love Changbin was with you and probably knew that you weren’t and …

But then why did he even date you? What happened to bros before hoes? I mean he saw the sparks, he saw the glint in Hyunjin’s eyes, the smile on your face but … was it worth it to Hyunjin? Was the connection that strong?

Also … why did you kiss him last night? He knows you were sleepy, but not that sleepy, right? And you weren’t aiming for his cheek, there was no way …

Changbin’s head hurts. And so does his heart. He still doesn’t have his laptop, because he would have to walk back and past where he saw you to get it, but it’s not like it matters anyway. And he wonders how on earth he’s going to navigate this new reality.

The reality where you and Hyunjin are … well, whatever you are. His heart cracks a little in his chest when he thinks the words.

In love.

“Right,” the staff member who’s always in charge of their SKZ Code episodes says and claps her hands. She looks oddly excited. “For today, you are going to pretend to be doctors. Surgeons, nurses, whatever, get funny with it!”

She grins, takes a look at the eight boys all lined up in front of her in fake scrubs and white jeans and lab coats.

Changbin feels stupid.

He’s also in a bad mood, which doesn’t help, but the outfit makes him feel stupid. Where there was sadness, there is a slowly simmering, building rage now. Changbin’s been watching it build slowly, watching his resentment thicken, his mood sour, and he hasn’t even bothered to try to cool himself off, because what’s his other option? Going back to heartbreak? No, he’d rather be angry. At himself sometimes, but also at Hyunjin, at you, pretending everything is fine — at being forced to watch Hyunjin giggle, bite his lip at his phone at least once a day. Sometimes he even nudges Yongbok, tilts his screen, points at something and whispers and Yongbok wiggles his eyebrow. And it’s not like Changbin would’ve talked to Yongbok, even though he offered, but the idea that that option was taken from him? It also pisses him off. So Hyunjin doesn’t just get you, he also gets Felix, huh? What does Changbin get? He gets fucking nothing.

He’s still brooding as the staff sorts them into groups, chatters to them, about the games they’ll play.

“The first group is Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin and Jeongin, the other Jisung, Minho, Seungmin and Yongbok,” she announces, pointing to the two tables set-up between them, “go to your team and pick what kind of doctors you want to be. That’ll be your team name.”

Chan shimmies over to him with a blinding smile, throws an arm around him and coos his name, his usual affection, just a little bit ramped up for the cameras – and trying to lift Changbin’s mood, because of course Chan knows.

“Binniiiiie,” Chan coos with a giggle, “we’ll be in a team. What kind of doctors should we be? Brain surgeons?”

Jeongin scoffs as he makes his way to Changbin’s other side. “We’re so not smart enough for that.”

Hyunjin is the last to find his way to them and Changbin tries not to look, but of course, he does. Hyunjin looks between Changbin and Chan and Jeongin, and Changbin does his best to tell himself that what he sees in his eyes isn’t disappointment.

Hyunjin makes his way over to them, a too bright smile plastered on his face.

“We could be doctors for like muscles and stuff, because we dance so much,” Jeongin muses, half distracted by Seungmin making faces at him across the room.

Hyunjin chuckles, tips how head to the side, makes eye contact with Changbin.

“Or we could be heart doctors?” he singsongs, making Chan chuckle into Changbin’s ear.

Changbin blinks. He can’t be serious …

“Ooh, Hyunjinnie, you want to be a love doctor?” Chan coos.

Hyunjin just giggles, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

Changbin stays quiet. Usually, he would’ve taken the opportunity. Would have walked right over there with a dramatic sigh of Hyunjin’s name, mumbling something about him not needing a love doctor when Changbin was right there, to take care of his heart, or some bullshit. But he doesn’t. He stubbornly crosses his arms and stares at the wall.

Jeongin next to them is oblivious.

“I like it, very macho,” he chuckles, and so it’s decided.

Chan announces the team name once the staff asks, Seungmin does his usual MC duties and they play. Rock paper scissors to decide the order. A spelling game.

Changbin knows he’s quiet, but he hopes it’s not too noticeable. Or at least Stay can forgive him just this once when the episode comes out. Because he’s trying his best to stay as far away from Hyunjin as possible, and it’s equally difficult as it is heartbreaking. Because Changbin misses his best friend.

Hyunjin cackles about something Jeongin said, and throws his arm around him. And Changbin aches. He feels like he’ll never stop aching.

“Next,” Seungmin monotones, “we’re going to be diagnosing each other as — each other!”

Everyone dutifully makes confused noises. Seungmin continues.

“One member will put on a blindfold and sit in front of the cameras, and another member will be chosen to use this microphone, which distorts your voice, to give the member in front of the camera a compliment – but not as themselves, but a compliment that someone else would make.”

Oohs and aahs.

“So if it was my turn to sit there, and Jisung’s to do the compliment, and his task was to pretend to be Minho complimenting me, he would probably just go ‘good dog’.”

Jisung and everyone else laughs, and Seungmin smiles at Minho’s offended noise. And Changbin thinks this is a safe game.

Except it’s not. Of course, it isn’t.

It’s all fun and games. They have a good time, make some jokes that will surely have to be cut out, especially when it’s Jisung’s turn and Jeongin makes an obscene sound instead of a compliment Minho would make, but there’s also lots of squabbling that he knows Stay will love. But then it’s Hyunjin’s turn.

Changbin watches him sit, slide the blindfold over his silky hair, a motion that would make Changbin dizzy on a normal day. But then Felix gets shown which member he’s meant to imitate, and it’s Changbin.

“Yaaah, Hyunjin-aaah,” Yongbok scream-whispers into the microphone, to the great amusement of everyone else. “When will you finally stop playing hard to get and be my boyfriend, Hyunjin-ah? You’re so beautiful! You’re an angel! You’re the most exquisite being God has ever created …”

Jisung slaps Yongbok’s arm and Yongbok breaks out into a slew of giggles.

Everyone’s laughing. Hyunjin’s ears are bright red. Changbin feels like he’s about to cry.

He’s always been pathetic, huh, he realises. He never cared if he looked a little silly, especially because Hyunjin loved it. But now, hearing Yongbok make a joke of it, seeing everyone else cackle and throw him looks, Changbin realises he’s been making a fucking fool out of himself. His eyes burn hotter than his cheeks do. He wants to fucking die.

“Ah,” Hyunjin chuckles awkwardly. Oddly enough, he doesn’t sound like he finds it funny either. “Changbin-hyung.”

Not a question, no surprise when everyone cheers and tells him he’s right.

Hyunjin removes the blindfold with a crooked smile, and when he turns, his eyes immediately fall on Changbin. His smile falls slightly. He gets up and walks back over to them and this time, Changbin’s side is exposed, so he slots himself right in. He slings an arm around his shoulders and Changbin gets a whiff of his shampoo and Changbin …

Changbin shrugs Hyunjin’s arm off his shoulders and steps away from him in one quick motion, and everyone falls silent. Changbin can’t bear to look at Hyunjin, but based on Yongbok’s expression, Hyunjin must be upset. Changbin swallows the guilt, lets it get swallowed up by the pool of resentment bubbling inside of him. Serves him right.

Minho puts them back on track quickly, steps forward to take his place, and everyone starts babbling, recovering quickly, practised, bouncing back to their camera personas, but Changbin tunes out. Yongbok’s distorted voice keeps repeating the words over and over again in his head until Changbin feels like nothing but a cheap distortion of himself.

The last game, or rather, the last thing they film, because the segment where they have lunch mercifully was filmed when they were actually having lunch today instead of at 4pm, is a dance challenge, but with a twist. They have to spontaneously dance to whatever songs come on, their own choreographies from over the years, but with another member and a balloon lodged between the two of them. And Changbin prays, tries to catch Chan’s eyes, or Jeongin’s, but the way they’re standing, they already paired up, and the only other person left on their team is …

“Hyung, we’ll kill it,” Hyunjin chirps as he walks over to him, balloon in hand. “Remember when we did this last time, and you turned to me. Our height difference was actually helpful. I think we’ve got this one in the bag.”

Hyunjin is avoiding his eyes, chattering on, an anxious smile on his lips, and Changbin just hums. Any energy he might have had to fight the tightness in his chest is slowly draining out of him.

Hyunjin places the balloon against his own chest, steps forward and, once it’s securely held up between their bodies, drapes his arms over Changbin’s shoulders. From this position, Changbin doesn’t have a choice but look at Hyunjin.

His heart fucking aches when he does. He’s pretty, as always. No, gorgeous. Subtle make-up, hair purposely fluffy and messy, of course, but what really gets Changbin every time are his eyes. They’re big, warm, they feel like home. Especially when they’re pulling into little crescents when he smiles. Like he is right now. Smiling at him with more warmth than Changbin has felt in such a long time.

“Hi hyung,” he hums, a teasing lilt to his voice. Changbin swallows down the urge to glare at him. “Fancy seeing you here. Come here often?”

Changbin swears his eye nearly starts twitching. Hyunjin’s breath puffs against his face.

“Ha,” he huffs out, but it lacks all humour. “Very funny, Hyunjin-ah.”

Hyunjin doesn’t seem to get the memo. But then S-Class blasts through the shitty little speakers the staff brought and Changbin’s body automatically responds with the dance, and so does Hyunjin’s.

But he’s grateful that, as he goes through the motions, he has an excuse to stare at the stupid blue balloon between them. Though the song ends before long, Jisung and Seungmin unsurprisingly already eliminated.

“Hyung,” Hyunjin mumbles, and Changbin makes the mistake of looking up. Hyunjin’s face is so close, Changbin can make out each individual eyelash framing his eyes.

The notes of Silent Cry slice through the room and Changbin momentarily forgets to be mad as he tries to remember the choreography – and promptly all thoughts leave his mind when Hyunjin swivels his hips and brushes his thigh against Changbin’s and Changbin swears he did it on purpose. When he looks up and meets Hyunjin’s eyes, Hyunjin is already staring at him.

Their balloon nearly drops with how fast Changbin tries to put distance between them. He tries to think of something unsexy, grandmas and dogshit, you and Hyunjin making out and probably doing a lot more than just grinding on each other, but that does shockingly little. Quite the opposite.

Thankfully, the song ends, but because nobody was eliminated, staff plays the next one right after. Maniac, now, and if Changbin’s heart didn’t feel like it was about to shatter and his dick didn’t feel like it was about to chub up embarrassingly fast, he would’ve laughed at how stupid it looked, everyone trying to do a half-assed twirl with the balloon between them. Somehow, he and Hyunjin make it, though, a little twirl, then hand to forehead. Hyunjin’s intense stare catches on Changbin’s, and he winks, lets his tongue slide over his bottom lip. Changbin almost moans.

The song ends, the game is over, everyone else is slowly peeling apart, but Hyunjin isn’t going anywhere. His arms fall back over Changbin’s shoulders, he tips his head to the side and stares at Changbin, eyes dipping down to his lips so quickly, Changbin thinks he might have made it up. And then Changbin feels his fingers at the nape of his neck, scratching up his scalp, and something in Changbin’s stomach turns.

He steps back so abruptly, Hyunjin’s arms and the balloon fall to the ground. The balloon pops, making everyone jump and stare over at them, but Changbin is beyond caring.

“We’re done, right?” he asks the staff, and stares them down until they nod apprehensively. He doesn’t know how manic he looks, he needs to get the fuck out of here.

He makes it out of the main room, back into the hallway that leads to their haphazardly thrown together dressing room, but he doesn’t get far before he hears steps behind him.

“Changbin,” Hyunjin’s voice echoes through the room and Changbin stops as if rooted to the spot, for one second, before he turns around and stalks towards Hyunjin, who stares at him.

“What the fuck?!”

It’s the only thing Changbin manages to say, his mind a mess, the resentment threatening to bubble up and over.

“Why the fuck would you … what the fuck was that?!”

It’s barely more coherent, so it’s no wonder Hyunjin just stares at him, mouth agape, eyes wide. Not understanding.

“Why were you … I wasn’t flirting with you?!” Changbin yells, “why were you … that’s not … why the fuck would you do this now?!”

Hyunjin shakes his head, takes another few steps toward Changbin, his arms stretched in front of him in an expression of utter disbelief.

“What?! I … I don’t get! I thought you wanted everything to go back to the way it was!? I was just trying to do what seemed to make you most comfortable!” Hyunjin yells, and Changbin shudders with frustration.

“Now you’re just being fucking cruel, Hyunjin,” he hisses, and Hyunjin’s big eyes turn narrow.

In two steps, Hyunjin is right in front of him, staring at him from where he’s towering over Changbin.

“Cruel? I’m being cruel? You’ve been flirting with me for years, off camera, on camera, and you waved it off every single time, and now I’m asking you to stop with the games and put your money where your mouth is before it’s too late, and I’m being cruel?” Before it’s too late?

Hyunjin takes a step forward, invades Changbin’s space and Changbin stumbles backwards into the wall with a thud.

“Fuck you, Hyunjin. I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s not cool,” he manages to hiss out, but Hyunjin just shakes his head. His eyes are glued to Changbin’s lips.

“If you would just let me explain …,” he mumbles, and then Hyunjin is kissing him.

Kissing Hwang Hyunjin is everything Changbin ever thought it would be and so much more. He’s overwhelming, crowding him against the wall, his hand strong where it’s resting against the nape of his neck. He also smells incredible, his pomegranate chapstick smearing against Changbin’s lips in a kiss that is equal parts elegance and raw, desperate want.

Hyunjin presses Changbin into the wall harder, towering over him, and Changbin moans, his hands back on Hyunjin’s waist, trying to pull him closer, kiss him deeper, get more, and Hyunjin sighs into the kiss, links his fingers with Changbin’s and presses it over his chest and …

Reality catches up to Changbin all at once and his eyes shoot open and he pushes Hyunjin away so hard, Hyunjin nearly slams into the wall opposite.

“Don’t … What?!” he gasps out, wipes his mouth with the back of his mind, staring at Hyunjin. He’s so fucking gorgeous like this, all flushed and wide-eyed and– 

Oh fuck.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin?!” Changbin yells, before he can think better of it. Hyunjin stumbles further back, but he opens his mouth. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?! That I don’t know you and Y/N are seeing each other?!”

“No, Binnie, …” Hyunjin tries to say but Changbin can’t … He can’t believe Hyunjin would do this.

Hyunjin raises his hands, eyes big and entreating, and tries to take a step towards him, but Changbin stumbles backwards. It’s no longer resentment he feels, now it’s just … anger. Disgust.

“So what, are you cheating on her?! Are you trying to prove something? What the fuck?!”

“Changbin,” Hyunjin says again, but Changbin just shakes his head. Slowly, he starts walking backwards, away from Hyunjin, because he doesn’t trust himself right now.

“She deserves better than that, Hyunjin. And I deserve better, too, than to be used like this. You can find someone else to fuck with.”

“I swear, Binnie, please …”

“Don’t get fucking near me, Hyunjin. I don’t want to see your face any more,” Changbin spits, and the venom of his words feel like daggers in his own chest.

He turns, walks down the hallway as fast as he can. This time, there are no footsteps following him.

Somehow, he manages to make it through the process of undressing, of filing into the cars, without crying.

Changbin barely looks at Hyunjin, the handful of glances nearly enough to make him break down, right there, in the middle of some random shoot location. Hyunjin looks about three seconds away from crying, but he won’t stop staring at Changbin. Changbin can feel his eyes, boring into the back of his head, like he’s taunting him. He can’t get the taste of him, the feeling of him so close, out of his goddamn head.

He gets in the car first and when the others don’t join, he watches through the tinted windows as Chan mumbles something to Hyunjin and Jisung, who nod, throw weary glances at the car, before walking over to the other car.

Chan turns and makes for the car Changbin’s in, climbs in, and closes the door behind him.

“Just us today,” he says to the driver, who nods and pulls away.

Changbin doesn’t look at Chan during the drive. For an hour, he sits next to him, his chest burning with unshed tears, his fists balled at his side, his brain running amok, white noise and pain.

Somehow they make it to the dorm.

Chan says goodbye to the driver, follows Changbin into the elevator, up to their floor, down the hall. He waits patiently until Changbin has punched in the code, until the door has fallen shut behind them, and they’ve toed off their shoes. He drops his backpack by the door, follows Changbin into his room, where Changbin drops his own, shrugs his jacket off.

When he turns around, Chan folds him into a hug and Changbin breaks down.

White noise. Static. His chest like a balled fist.

“H-he kissed m-me,” he hiccups, a string of drool dripping onto Chan’s shirt. Chan hums, rubs his hands over Changbin’s back soothingly. “H-he f-fucking k-kissed me, after a-all this f-fucking time, Channie.”

Chan’s arms tighten around him, and more sobs tear out of Changbin.

“I’m sorry, hyung. I’m sorry. I love him.”

He sobs again, so hard his legs nearly give out.

Chan shushes him quietly. “I know, Binnie, I know.”

Changbin can’t even pull back, he only clings onto Chan tighter.

“H-how the fuck do y-you know,” he wails, “why are you s-so fine with th-this.”

It’s overwhelming. And it’s getting worse, the idea of Chan knowing makes Changbin wonder who else knows. Who else has been witnessing this whole train wreck knowing more than Changbin does.

His chest tightens until his sobs turn into gasps for air and Chan somehow drags him over to his bed, guides him to sit, all without ever taking his arms from where they’re protectively, soothingly wrapped around Changbin’s body.

“It’s okay, Binnie, it’s okay to love him,” he murmurs, trying to be calm, but Changbin only cries harder. He sobs, spit and tears and snot staining Chan’s shirt.

“It’s not o-okay,” Changbin somehow manages to whimper out, “b-because I l-love her, too. I love him and I love her. I love them both.” Chan’s hands freeze momentarily, before they resume their calm movements over Changbin’s shoulders and his back.

It’s like a dam has broken and Changbin can’t stop spilling his fucking guts.

“And neither of them love me,” he wails, forces the words out between sobs and hiccups. “They love each other. And they’re beautiful together, Channie, they’re so beautiful. And I thought I would be f-fine w-watching because how can I be with either of them when I love the o-other, too, b-but it’s s-so hard, hyung, it’s so f-fucking hard.”

Somewhere along the way he has started hyperventilating again, Changbin realises, because Chan is now rocking him back and forth.

“A-and n-now … he k-kissed me?! A-and sh-she kissed me the o-other … day and … we hooked up, too, Channie, right before her d-date with H-hyunjin and I don’t even know h-how that happened but afterwards it was a-awful and then I s-saw them and now Hyunjin k-kissed me?!”

Chan rocks him hard, tries to shush him, but Changbin is on a roll now.

“Like, how could he ch-cheat on her, right?! Hyunjin, of all … of all f-fucking people. And on h-her?! H-how?! How could he th-throw a chance with her away like that, when it’s a-all I’ve e-ever wanted. How f-fucking d-dare he?! And wh-why the fuck would he use m-me to do it?! There are other p-people, so many people, h-hotter people, probably lining up to kiss Hwang fucking Hyunjin. Why d-did he have to drag m-me into this?! It’s s-so c-cruel.”

“Binnie,” Chan mumbles, but Changbin shakes his head. “Binnie, don’t talk like that.”

Changbin scoffs. A wave of self-hatred washes over him, so strong it nearly blinds him.

“W-why?! Isn’t that what the problem is?! That I’m s-so f-fucking unlovable that w-who I thought were my b-best friends are just … u-using me to play some s-stupid games with each other?! Like I’m just some t-toy. B-because Changbin won’t complain.”

Chan pulls Changbin from his chest so fast Changbin can’t even cover his face, his stupid sweaty, red, face, but Chan doesn’t seem to care. He shakes him. Gently, but Chan shakes him.

“Not another word, Bin,” Chan warns, gives Changbin one of his dad looks, and it’s so intimidating that Changbin actually doesn’t dare say anything else. “I don’t know why they would do what they did, but I’m sure it wasn’t because of that.”

Changbin sniffles.

“Th-then, w-why?”

Chan sighs.

“I don’t know, but it’s not because you don’t mean anything to them. If anything, I think it might be the opposite.”

The thought of that hurts more than all the anger that came before it. Changbin starts sobbing again, and Chan pulls him back into his chest.

“It’s okay, Bin. We’ll figure it out, okay? You’ll figure it out.”

Changbin doesn’t believe him then.

But Chan stays, holds him until the worst of Changbin’s sobs have subsided, waves away his hoarse apology for crying and snotting all over his shirt. Chan brings him water and painkillers and tucks him into bed so gently it would’ve made Changbin start crying all over again, if his body hadn’t utterly exhausted itself. Chan leaves and exhaustion drags Changbin into a deep, dreamless sleep, even though it’s only 8pm.

He sleeps for 14 hours and when he stumbles out of his room the next day, Chan tells him that Hyunjin and Jeongin will be switching rooms for a while.

When Changbin asks what he told them, Chan shrugs, says he just told them Changbin and Hyunjin had a fight. Most of them knew, apparently, about you and Hyunjin dating, about Changbin and his unresolved feelings about the matter, but nobody had dared push the question. On account of “Changbin acting like a ticking time bomb”, according to Chan, which makes Changbin crumple in on himself with more self-loathing.

Nonetheless, Changbin is more grateful than he can even describe. He mumbles as much to Chan, gives Jeongin a half-mumbled thank you as well, but Chan just pats him on the back.

“Told you we’d figure it out, yeah?”

And Changbin nods; realises he should’ve talked to Chan a long, long time ago.

Chan arranges for Changbin to take a couple days off, days which Changbin spends … heartbroken. Wallowing. Crying and eating ice cream, the whole nine yards. Except it’s even worse, because he didn’t just get his heart broken by one person, but two. And along the way he also lost not one of his best friends, but both.

There’s a you-shaped hole in his soul. Every now and again, he picks up his phone, and he sees your chat pinned to the top of his KakaoTalk and the last sticker you sent, and he wishes he could message you. He wishes he could open your chat and go ‘today sucked, wyd?’ like he used to and see your little message bubble pop up immediately, always ready with some words that somehow always made him feel better, even if it was just the stupidest little joke.

And he wishes that in the mornings, he didn’t hear Jeongin’s laugh echoing through the dorm from Jisung and Hyunjin’s bathroom. He wishes Hyunjin were here and everything was normal. He wishes he could knock on Hyunjin’s door like he always did when he had a hard day. Hyunjin always knew, somehow, only had to take one look at Changbin to know. Because on those days, there was only softness, no edge to his pretend words of resistance when Changbin asked if he could come in. He would let Changbin come into the sanctuary that is Hyunjin’s room, like a parallel world, a calm refuge, always smelling slightly of the dried roses hanging from his bedpost, the paint that’s always drying on some canvas or another.

But he has nothing now. He’s in his room, alone, in the empty dorm, while everyone else goes on with their life. And he keeps wondering if somewhere along the way he went wrong.

He didn’t think he did. His love for you and Hyunjin? There was never a question of it ever stopping. And the existence of two loves, his two loves, because they were always going to be a part of him, stitched into the fabric of his heart by fate itself, meant he could never have either. Because both of you deserved more than that. It’s what he always came back to. That part he was sure of. This was always the way it was meant to play out. Right?

A few days, he has lost count in his desolation, Changbin wakes up from a nap to laughter and chatter in the kitchen. One glance at his phone tells him it’s 8pm. He must’ve slept for an hour and a half somehow, though he doesn’t remember even falling asleep.

Groggily, he peels himself out of bed, throws a look in the mirror and runs a hand through his hair before he makes his way out of his room.

Though what he sees when he rounds the corner to the kitchen, makes him freeze in his tracks.

Everyone’s here. Jeongin, Seungmin and Yongbok are unloading containers and containers of takeaway food from countless white bags, Minho and Jisung are bickering and giggling while setting the table, and Chan is talking to …

You and Hyunjin, next to each other, laughing at something Chan said, fiddling with something in a big plastic container, trying to get it out of a brown paper bag …

When your eyes meet Changbin’s, you freeze. Chan whirls around, and Hyunjin sees him last, his face immediately falling as his eyes race up and down Changbin’s sleep-mussed form with badly contained worry.

“Binnie!” Chan exclaims and everyone else turns around. Changbin wants to disappear.

“Wh-what are you all doing here?” he somehow manages to rasp out, and Chan walks up to him.

“What do you mean? It’s your birthday, Bin, do you think we would let you wallow alone on your birthday?”

Oh.

He didn’t realise … Was it really … Wait, did he forget his own birthday?!

Chan seems to see the turmoil in his eyes, because he throws an arm around Changbin’s shoulder and leads him back down the hallway, back to his room.

“Why don’t you take a quick shower, and we’ll be right here, with food on the table, when you’re done, yeah? When’s the last time you had a proper–”

“Why are they here?”

It breaks out of him, interrupts Chan mid-sentence, but Chan doesn’t let it phase him.

“It’s your birthday, they wanted to celebrate it with you. Plus, they wanted to talk to you …”

Changbin panics, opens his mouth to say something, anything, to tell Chan that he isn’t ready, that he can’t face them, especially not together, but Chan shushes him.

“I think you should hear them out. Promise me you’ll hear them out?”

Changbin stares at Chan. He doesn’t know what they could possibly say that wouldn’t end with Changbin’s heart shattered on the floor of his room all over again, but Chan looks so convinced, so optimistic, so determined, that Changbin nods.

“Okay, now off to the shower with you. I’ll tidy up in here a bit, okay? Change your sheets, let some air in.”

Changbin nods again, lets Chan steer him to his drawers to get him a change of clothes, and then into the bathroom. And when he stumbles out of the steam ten minutes later, Chan is sitting on his clean, freshly made bed, scrolling through his phone.

“There you go, much better!” Chan exclaims with one of his patented smiles, and jumps up. “Now let’s get some food before it gets cold, and they kill us because they have to wait any longer.”

Everyone’s already crowded around the big dinner table, cheers erupting when Changbin and Chan come back. Jeongin mumbles a “finally!” and Changbin has no time to think before he’s steered into one of the empty seats, Seungmin to his left, Chan sitting down to his right.

When he looks up, he meets Jisung’s eyes, who smiles brightly at him, playing with Minho’s hand in his lap.

“Happy birthday, hyung! We missed you in the studio today,” he chirps, easily, dripping with sincerity, and Changbin’s heart convulses almost painfully. He had barely thought of the group these last few days, too focused was he on his broken heart. He feels almost bad.

“None of that,” Minho chides, as if he read Changbin’s mind. Though Changbin assumes it was written all over his face anyway. Clearly, his pokerface is lacking these days. “You needed the rest.”

Jisung next to him nods, and Changbin gives them both what he hopes is a genuine smile. But it’s hard. As Chan loads up his plate, he finally dares to let his eyes stray down the table where you and Hyunjin are, sat next to each other.

To his relief, neither of you are looking at him. You’re talking to Jeongin about something, Hyunjin is busy trying to get a drink from the kitchen island without having to get up, before he gives up and does, grabbing two diet cokes, placing one in front of you automatically. The gesture is so domestic it makes Changbin feel sick with jealousy. He can’t do this. He can’t watch this. What the fuck was he thinking?!

But then Hyunjin’s eyes meet his and Hyunjin smiles. It’s small, sheepish, and impossibly soft, big eyes round, mouthing a quiet “hi” and Changbin’s chest erupts into barbed wire butterflies. He wonders how long it will take for him to get over this. He wonders if he ever will.

“Come on, Bin, eat up,” Chan exclaims, rips Changbin’s attention away from Hyunjin and to his plate, filled to the brim with all his favourite foods and when he looks up, Seungmin is smiling at him.

“Eat, hyung, we had to go to like five different places to get all of this, so you better enjoy it,” he teases, and Changbin huffs out a laugh, but digs in.

And really, he didn’t eat very well the last few days, his appetite having all but disappeared, swallowed up by the heartbreak until there was nothing left. So he lived on leftovers left by the others, off cup ramen and convenience store kimbap. And he didn’t care, but now, with all of this in front of him, he realises he’s starving.

So he eats. Lets himself be dragged into different conversations, lets Jisung whine about how fast his rap is in the song they were recording, listens to him and Seungmin discuss singing techniques, to Chan talk about this new machine his personal trainer made him use the other day.

Every now and again, he steals glances at you and Hyunjin, and he doesn’t know if you’re doing it to be kind to him, but there’s no lovey-dovey-ness between you; no whispering, no touching, no stolen glances. Changbin is grateful, but he’s also confused.

But before long, everyone’s done eating and you and Hyunjin disappear into the kitchen only to reappear side by side, holding a giant cake. Everyone starts singing the most disjointed rendition of happy birthday which should be criminal considered they’re all singers, but Changbin doesn’t care. Tears prick in his eyes before the song is even over.

The cake is pink. Impeccably frosted. And it’s dwaekki-themed. Ears, little pigtail and face and all. On the bottom it says, “Happy birthday, Changbin!” and there are at least 10 candles, burning, flickering precariously with every step you take.

You and Hyunjin carry it in together, smiling at him, placing the cake in front of him on the table just when the song ends and Changbin tries his best not to cry. Before you pull away, he can feel your hand on brush against his neck, rubbing your thumb over his skin, then Hyunjin’s stronger one, squeezing his shoulder. They’re small touches, barely anything, but his whole body erupts into goosebumps.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell. Someone hands him the knife, tells him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and he does, wishes that one day he will be able to have his friends back.

They wanted to talk to you.

Changbin tries not to freak out about the prospect of it, but when everyone’s had cake, when Minho and Jisung and Chan are done tidying up the kitchen, and everyone slowly starts to make to leave except for you and Hyunjin, it all becomes a little too real.

“Bin?”

You say his name so sweetly, so quietly.

He turns and is met with you and Hyunjin, who’s hovering behind you, gnawing at his lips nervously.

“C-can we talk?” you ask.

Changbin doesn’t respond. He has the urge to say yes, because you clearly want to. He can see the worry and the stress in your tired eyes, wants to do anything he can to alleviate it, but … he doesn’t know if he can do this. He feels like he’s made of glass and one wrong move will shatter him all over the floor.

“Please, hyung,” Hyunjin mumbles, opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but Jisung screeching in the hallway, makes him falter. “Just, please?”

So Changbin nods. He tries to regulate his breathing as everyone files out with little waves and hugs and more “happy birthdays”, and even manages to hold it together when Chan hugs him and mumbles “you can call me if anything happens, okay?”, only when the door falls shut behind them, and he’s left alone with you, he starts panicking.

He turns around and finds you exactly where you were before, aimlessly fiddling with one of the containers of leftovers, Hyunjin leaning against the kitchen island, running his hand through his hair for the nth time, his foot tapping the floor nervously.

Changbin can’t stand it any longer.

“I … I can’t be your friend. I’m sorry. I really tried, but I-I can’t,” he forces out, “or maybe I can, one day, but not right now. It hurts too much. You hurt me a lot. I need time.”

You straighten up, a look on your face like you’ve been slapped.

Hyunjin winces, takes a step towards him.

“Hyung, I’m sorry,” he starts, and Changbin’s brows furrow, but Hyunjin just takes another step towards him, “I know, I fucked up, I shouldn’t have just kissed you.”

Changbin freezes, whips his head over to you, but you don’t seem surprised. Quite the opposite. Hyunjin is right in front of him now, his breath puffing against his face, just like it did a few days ago, right before …

“I shouldn’t have done it,” he says, his determined gaze racing all over Changbin’s face, “and I should’ve explained, but it was all so … I was so confused and so unsure because I couldn’t believe you’d really want me …”

“What?!”

His disbelief is genuine. Hyunjin blushes, and nods.

“Y/Nie kept telling me, but I just couldn’t believe it? I thought you were just teasing me all these years. Ironic, because the one person I wanted, didn’t want me back. Because it was always so obvious to me that you wanted her …”

Changbin’s head spins and for a second, he thinks he might pass out. You seem to be able to sense it. You mumble, Hyunjin’s name, who blinks, then takes a quick step back. Changbin feels like he can breathe again.

“Hey, why don’t we take this to your room, Bin?” you say gently, give Hyunjin a look. Hyunjin nods, steps back another few steps, and lets you take Changbin’s hand and drag him back to his room.

You lead him to his bed, make him sit down, Hyunjin immediately taking the spot next to him, just close enough, so his knee rests against the side of Changbin’s thigh when he crosses his long graceful legs underneath him. There’s more space between them now, which Changbin is grateful for, because even just that touch when it’s just the three of you here in his room, makes him a little dizzy.

You don’t sit down, instead you come to stand in front of him. Changbin blinks up at you. He feels like he’s staring straight at the sun.

“We’re sorry, Binnie,” you announce with a deep sigh, giving Changbin a look that melts his heart, “we’re sorry we didn’t talk to you sooner. Everything was so messy, and it took us ages to figure it out between ourselves and … and we didn’t know how much you were hurting, how much we were hurting you. We’re sorry.”

Hyunjin makes a soft sound of agreement next to him.

“The thing is …” you take a deep breath, ”both Hyune and I … we both went into our date with each other trying to get over you.”

Changbin’s whole world tilts on its axis.

“I kinda … I loved you for so long, and I figured you’d never want me back, I honestly always thought you were in love with Hyunjin, ever since you told me about him, but … I don’t know, it’s been like, what 7 years, and you never made a move and when Hyune and I met, there was so much chemistry and I thought maybe, just maybe, I should try, you know? And I didn’t know if it would last or anything, but I was kinda desperate because I really needed to get over you.”

You flush, fidget awkwardly where you stand.

“But then … I don’t know, I fucked up, I kissed you, and we had sex and afterwards it was so obvious how much you regretted it, and it hurt so fucking bad to see, so when Hyunjin kissed me in the museum and my heart nearly beat out of my chest, I, uh, I was so relieved. Like, maybe there was a chance, maybe I could get over you. But I couldn’t … of course not.”

Hyunjin’s hand splays over Changbin’s thigh, and Changbin shivers.

“And neither could I …” he murmurs, voice thick like honey in Changbin’s ears. “I really tried … and I was so confused that on Y/N and my second date, I just kind of … freaked out. Told her I heard you. Told her that I was sorry but also that I wasn’t, because it … it turned me on so bad.”

He breathes out the last words, and Changbin nearly chokes on his spit.

“But also that I was really jealous and that I was pretty sure I was in love with you but also liked her and … well, long story short, we realised in a, uhh, very explicit way, that we were both in the same boat, but also really liked each other … But it almost felt like … something was missing. You were missing.”

Hyunjin moves a little closer, lets his hand trace over Changbin’s arm, down to his wrist, before linking his hands in his.

“And we wanted to talk to you, but then you were so cold to me when we were filming that last SKZ code episode, and I kinda just … lost my head. I got so scared. And I followed you because I wanted to tell you all of this, but you were so angry, and it was so hot, and you kissed me back so hard it knocked any coherent thought out of me and I messed it all up. Chan told me as much, when he came to the other dorm. Yelled at me so loud in front of the others …”

Hyunjin shivers, and you take the break in his rant to sit down on Changbin’s other side.

“When Hyunjin told Chan we wanted to talk to you, he had this big, long dad talk with us, about our feelings and our intentions,” you mumble, and shiver. “He basically gave us the shovel talk, it was scary.”

Hyunjin giggles quietly.

“But the long and short of it is,” you take a deep breath, but it’s shaky. Hyunjin’s hand leaves Changbin’s only for long enough to reach over his lap and squeeze yours, before returning to lace into Changbin’s again. “We wanted to ask you … if there was any possible way you might have feelings for us. Because we do … have, like, a lot of feelings … for you.”

Changbin’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. He wants to pinch himself, to make sure he isn’t dreaming, but Hyunjin’s warm presence, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of his hand, your leg jumping nervously, it all feels too real to be a dream.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you breathe out with an awkward chuckle, “just … you just need to tell us. We didn’t really think that far because we’re both romantics and also both kinda delusional,” you laugh again, though Changbin can hear the sadness, “That’s something we learned about each other in the last weeks. But we’ll figure something out. If you just love Hyune, it’s okay, I … I’m not mad, I promise. At least I’ll know. I just can’t pine over you any longer.”

Changbin’s head whips up so fast he nearly pulls something.

“Is that what you think?”

You shrug, avoid his eyes.

“It seemed pretty obvious,” you mumble, “with how you talked about him from day one. How much you regretted sleeping with me, how you kissed him back …”

You look so devastated, it makes Changbin’s chest ache.

He shakes his head. He reaches for you, his hand as shaky as the day you kissed him, cupping your face. His whole body is thrumming with something he can’t name.

“I … wow, is this real?!” he huffs out, with a disbelieving laugh, “Angel, I’ve been in love with you for years …”

Hyunjin hums approvingly, and Changbin’s face snaps over. Hyunjin is right there, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You …” Changbin mumbles, and Hyunjin’s eyes suddenly widen, almost in fear, “Do you think I would flirt with you for so many years without meaning any of it?! Are you crazy?”

Hyunjin pouts, and Changbin wants to kiss it off him. The thought that he might have wanted him to all along, makes him feel insane.

“Well, you never shut up about her! It was always ‘Y/N this, Y/N that’ and ‘Ah, no, Changbin isn’t coming home until later, he’s at Y/N’s’. At some point, I figured the two of you were together and just didn’t tell anyone.”

Changbin blushes hard, but before he can overthink it, he decides to be brave. He frees his hand from Hyunjin’s reaches up, and pulls Hyunjin into a kiss. Hyunjin squeals into his lips, before he relaxes, presses himself closer, until half his leg is in Changbin’s lap and his hand is ghosting up his back. And then he pulls back, blinks his eyes open and looks past Changbin, and Changbin turns and meets your eyes. Your pupils are blown, and despite all of his words, there’s something so uncertain in your face.

“Come here,” Changbin whispers, and you do. Effortlessly, easily, shimmy forward until he can wrap his arm around your waist and press his lips to yours, and he wonders once more if he’s dreaming, but when Hyunjin’s lips find his neck, your fingers travel over his legs until they find Hyunjin’s …

When Changbin pulls back, he’s dizzy. Hyunjin is all but folded around him, nuzzling his face into Changbin’s neck, and you’re staring at him so intently and Changbin has a hard time figuring out what’s right and wrong.

Hyunjin shifts and Changbin feels him half hard in his pants, and he panics a little bit.

“C-can we … can we just … can we just hang out tonight? Watch something or cuddle, or I don’t know,” he asks, shakily, squeezes his eyes closed, “this is … this is a lot, I think I need a minute.”

Hyunjin pulls back, soothes his hand over Changbin’s back and you nod.

It’s only when the light is off later, the three of you tangled into each other in Changbin’s double bed, that’s just about big enough to hold you all, with you curled up against his chest and Hyunjin’s body plastered against his back, that Hyunjin dares bring it up again.

“This feels right, doesn’t it?” he whispers into the darkness, and Changbin’s heart skips a beat. You giggle and hum out a sleepy yes against his chest, and Changbin can’t even find the words. It does.

It’s scary, so, so scary and new, but it feels right in a way that only his soul can understand.

And his soul? Well, it seems that overnight, it found its way, back to where it belongs – in the spot right next to his beating, aching heart, beating and, maybe, just maybe, if last night wasn’t a dream, no longer aching for you.

And it wasn’t a dream, Changbin notes, with a relief that makes his toes curl. Because before he even opens his eyes he can feel Hyunjin’s hair tickling his nose, your soft arm thrown over his waist, your feet tangled with his, and the sun shining in through the crack in the curtains, and he feels like he’s finally come home.

You stir against his back, arch into him as you stretch, your fingers absentmindedly slipping under his shirt, brushing against the skin of his lower stomach. You nuzzle back against him, press a soft kiss to his back, and he sighs. Gently, he covers your hand and with his, gives it a squeeze that makes you hum softly.

Hyunjin wakes then, too, huffing out a breath, the little pout on his angelic face pulling into a yawn, before he detaches himself from Changbin’s side enough to roll onto his back. Changbin watches as he stretches his arms above his head, cursing Hyunjin because he clearly knows how good he looks like this, the lean muscles in his biceps bulging, his shirt riding up enough to expose his toned stomach, the little trail of dark hair leading into his pants where …

Jesus christ. Changbin had seen Hyunjin naked before, plenty of times, and distantly, he knew Hyunjin wasn’t exactly on the small side, but right here, right now, morning wood impressively hard in just his thin cotton boxers? His cock is fucking massive. The mere thought of getting his hands on him makes Changbin’s own half-hard cock twitch in interest.

And you seem to have felt it, because you chuckle deviously and the hand that was trailing over his stomach dips lower.

Hyunjin blinks his eyes open at the sound of your giggle, a pretty little smile on his face as he faces Changbin, his eyes falling down to where your fingers are tracing the waistband of Changbin’s briefs and he hums.

“Good morning,” he rasps, scoots closer, lets one of his hands trail up Changbin’s arm, up over his shoulder, until he can trace Changbin’s cheek. He’s gentle with it, his eyes constantly on Changbin, watching every single one of his reactions with a loving diligence. But below his gentleness, simmering somewhere deep in his eyes, is a hunger that Changbin has never seen before. His cock is rock hard now, your teasing fingertips keeping him teetering on the brink of insanity.

“Please tell me you haven’t changed your mind …” Hyunjin breathes out, and Changbin huffs out in disbelief. He shakes his head and that’s all Hyunjin needs before he leans in to kiss him, morning breath and all. But Changbin doesn’t care. He’s in his bed, with the sun on his face, your body pressed against him and Hyunjin kissing him. He has never been better.

Your fingers dip underneath his waistband like a question.

“Is this okay?” you ask, your voice a breathless thing against the nape of his neck.

Changbin nods, whines a yes into Hyunjin’s lips, and then your hand wraps around his cock and he moans. Hyunjin sighs happily, pulls back only enough to murmur a pleased little “so loud” against his lips, before he presses closer and kisses him even harder.

It’s mind-blowing how good your simple touches feel, nothing grand, only your bodies pressed together, your hand sliding up and down his cock, Hyunjin’s tongue licking against his.

When Changbin’s hips stutter, Hyunjin makes a noise into his mouth and pulls back. Changbin nearly comes just from the vision of him, eyes darker than he’s ever seen them, his sinfully plump lips bitten, chest rising and falling harshly. He looks like some kind of greek god of sex, even more so when he looks past him, over his shoulder, and then pushes Changbin until he’s all the way on his back.

When Hyunjin grabs you by the chin and pulls you in for a kiss right in front of Changbin, Changbin thinks he might actually still be dreaming because holy shit. You’re greedy, pull Hyunjin in with a hand in his hair and Hyunjin matches you effortlessly, parts his lips, lets you lick into his mouth before he returns the favour, kisses you so filthily, Changbin’s belly does a swoop and his cock twitches pathetically in your hand, that’s still pumping, albeit erratically, too distracted by Hyunjin’s assault on your mouth.

But before long, Hyunjin pulls back and turns his hungry eyes back on Changbin, keeps him pinned to the mattress with them as he shoves the covers aside and slithers down his body.

“Fuck, Hyune-aahhh.”

Changbin’s words are cut off when Hyunjin nudges his nose and open mouth against his clothed cock with a hum that travels all the way up Changbin’s spine. There’s an embarrassing wet spot where the head of his cock is leaking, and it’s only getting wetter by the minute.

"Let me make it up to you, hyungie," Hyunjin purrs.

“I’m not gonna … fuck me sideways,” he moans out when Hyunjin rips his briefs down and off his legs in one fell swoop.

“Some other time, gladly,” Hyunjin teases, and Changbin would’ve made a pathetic sound in the back of his throat if Hyunjin didn’t choose that exact moment to swallow his cock into his hot mouth.

He hollows his cheeks, hums, does a little flick with his tongue against the underside of Changbin’s cock and makes a whole show of rolling his eyes before he pulls off and grins up at Changbin.

“Your cock is so perfect, hyungie,” he teases, and Changbin tries to hide his burning, probably embarrassingly pink, face with a whine, only to awkwardly bump his nose into the side of your face. You giggle.

“What? Don’t like the dirty talk?” you hum, and Changbin gives you a mock glare, one that is horribly interrupted by his eyes rolling into the back of his head when Hyunjin sinks his cock back into his mouth.

“If I’d known … fuck, Hyunjin,” Changbin moans, his hand reaching down, tangling in Hyunjin’s hair, though feeling the bob of his head only makes him hurtle towards his orgasm faster, “if I’d known you had such a mouth on you …”

Hyunjin pulls off again, his eyes watery from the effort, and lets the head of Changbin’s cock rest against his plump bottom lip and smiles up at him. It’s an image that not even Changbin’s filthiest desires could’ve cooked up.

“Then what? You would’ve let me hit sooner?”

His tongue darts out and digs into Changbin’s slit, and Changbin curses. He’s going to come, and soon.

Your fingertips trail under his shirt, up the side of his chest, until they reach his nipple. Your touch makes electricity prickle through his veins, and then you turn his head towards you and your lips find his and Changbin loses any shred of sanity.

He comes with an arch of his back and a strangled moan that’s muffled by your lips, one hand buried in Hyunjin’s hair, the other holding on to your arm for dear life. Pleasure rushes through him so fast he thinks he might black out, his whole body shivering again and again, toes curling, until he has nothing left to give, and he collapses into the pillows, breathing heavily, one arm slung over his face.

Distantly, he feels Hyunjin pull off his cock, and he tries to slur out an apology, one Hyunjin promptly ignores.

“Did he just …” Hyunjin asks, fondness laced through every word.

“Did you just come from kissing me?” you ask with a giggle, but it’s so gentle, so fond, that the embarrassment burning Changbin’s ears can’t even harshen his post-orgasm glow.

Hyunjin giggles, then there’s shuffling. Hyunjin murmurs a quiet “come here, baby” and your warmth disappears from Changbin’s side with one more kiss to his forehead, and then the bed dips on his other. When Changbin lifts his arm and cracks one of his eyes open, he is greeted with the view of you and Hyunjin kissing again, though this time it’s different. A lot softer, more coordinated.

You’re straddling Hyunjin’s waist, one knee on each side of him, draped over his chest, one hand supporting yourself in the pillows next to Hyunjin’s head, the other cupping Hyunjin’s face like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever touched. Hyunjin’s hands on the other hand, are all over you – one smoothing under your shirt and over your belly and, if your gasp is anything to judge by, grabbing your tits, the other on the back of your legs, travelling up and under the boxer shorts you borrowed from Changbin. Changbin can’t see, but when you moan and arch into his hand, he assumes Hyunjin started playing with your pussy.

Changbin’s mouth waters just watching, but then you sit back enough to pull your shirt over your head and do the same to Hyunjin and suddenly, Changbin’s mouth is very, very dry. His cock twitches valiantly.

Skin. So much skin. Your plushness against Hyunjin’s lean, wiry muscles, his strong hands digging divots into your skin, one of them wrapped around your breast, playing with your nipples. Hyunjin is still hard, straining against his boxers, and when you grind forward, dragging your core against the base of his cock, Hyunjin moans, low and melodic and needy.

Changbin’s hard again. It must be some sort of record, but how could he not, with the two most perfect people he has ever seen, making out half naked after sucking soul of out him.

When you scramble off the bed to shuck off your (his, Changbin’s brain supplies unhelpfully) boxers and see him watching you, a smile so gorgeous yet so devious it gives him whiplash, pulls at your lips.

Hyunjin scrambles out of his boxers, too, and Changbin can’t help but stare when Hyunjin’s cock springs free and slaps heavily against his abdomen because fuck, that might be the most beautiful dick he’s ever seen in his life, long and straight, beading precum at the tip. And lord knows he has imagined having Hyunjin every which way, but the thought of him putting that inside him makes Changbin a little more than just dizzy.

Changbin gets distracted by Hyunjin reaching out, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and pulling him closer.

“Get over here,” Hyunjin rasps out, his eyes hooded, and Changbin doesn’t have to be told twice.

He leans in, captures Hyunjin’s lips in his, kisses him with everything he has because, oh god, he can just do this now. He can just kiss Hwang Hyunjin whenever he wants. And Hyunjin seems to like it, because he turns into putty underneath his hands, pliable and pretty, chasing Changbin’s touch until Changbin gives in, runs his palms over his stomach, down, wrapping his hand around his beautiful, heavy cock, and stroking him, swallowing his moans, until Changbin feels the bed dip and your leg against his again. Then he trails his hands up again, over his abs, until he can run his fingers over his pecs. When he brushes over his nipple, Hyunjin gasps, throws his head back.

“Binnie,” you murmur softly, and when he looks over, you sink down on Hyunjin’s cock, taking it all the way to the hilt with a choked moan, your fingernails digging into Hyunjin’s thighs and Changbin nearly comes on the spot. Hyunjin moans prettily, one of his hands finding your waist, eyebrows knitting together in an expression of pleasure-pain that is more gorgeous than anything Changbin has ever seen.

But when he looks over at you, you, with your hair wild, your back arched, goosebumps on your glistening skin as you throw your head back, circle your hips in a slow grind – Changbin is at a loss where to look because surely this cannot be real.

Hyunjin makes the decision for him, whines, demands his attention back by sinking his fingers into Changbin’s hair and yanking him down into his lips so hard pain zaps through Changbin’s scalp, only to be replaced by molten arousal when Hyunjin licks into his mouth like a man starved. And his moans only get louder when you start bouncing on him in earnest, getting up on your knees and letting yourself fall down on Hyunjin’s cock until your legs start shaking.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hyunjin curses out, his hips bucking up to meet yours with every one of your bounces, and you mewl, falling forward and into Hyunjin’s chest weakly.

“C-can’t, legs h-hurt, p-please,” you whimper, voice so brittle and desperate it sends Changbin into a tailspin. He mashes his lips against yours and Hyunjin moans, plants his feet and starts fucking up into you, and the sound you make is outright obscene. Changbin’s patience snaps, and he reaches down, wraps one hand around himself. The relief of his touch makes him almost delirious.

You’re still kissing him, though it’s more teeth and spit than anything, and then you turn your head and Hyunjin catches you, cradles you against him and fucks up into you harder, until Changbin’s headboard is thudding against the wall in an erratic rhythm that Changbin knows all the neighbours can hear.

“C-close,” you mumble and Hyunjin whimpers into your mouth, turns, drags Changbin closer until his mouth is in the mix, too, and it’s filthy and messy and so entirely uncoordinated that it shouldn’t be hot, but, it is, because Changbin is swapping spit with the two loves of his life.

Somehow, he comes first, spills weakly over his fist as another desperate orgasm racks through him, renders him entirely boneless, watching as Hyunjin ruts into you until you come with a choked moan, muttering Hyunjin’s then Changbin’s name, and Hyunjin’s whole body arches when he follows you over the edge, burying himself in you to the hilt with a weak moan.

Then he collapses, and you along with him, cheek squished against his chest, fucked out and gorgeous, before you slowly let yourself slide off his chest, and into the space between them. You mewl weakly when Hyunjin’s cock slides out of you and his cum starts dripping out of you, a sight that makes stars dance in Changbin’s vision and his spent cock throb.

It’s a little gross. Sweat and cum and spit drying on skin, but neither you nor Hyunjin make any effort to move. And neither does Changbin. So the three of you just lie there, basking in the glory of it all, Hyunjin and your hands linked on his chest, Changbin wrapped around your back, drawing shapes onto Hyunjin’s abs.

“Are we … are we dating now?” you ask into the silence, sheepish, and Hyunjin cracks an eye open, before he turns on his side, presses a kiss to your nose that makes Changbin’s heart flutter.

“I’d be honoured to be your boyfriend,” he murmurs, and Changbin can see your smile mirrored in the one that takes over Hyunjin’s as he looks at you.

Then you turn around, enough to be able to stare up at Changbin.

“What about you? Wanna be my boyfriend, Binnie?”

“And mine!” Hyunjin chirps. You giggle.

“And Hyunjin’s?”

Changbin doesn’t even try to play coy. He smiles, big and uninhibited, so wide he knows his dimples are probably showing, but he doesn’t care.

“I’d love to be your boyfriend,” he says. He means it more than he has ever meant anything in his life. His heart threatens to leap out of his chest.

“And mine?” Hyunjin asks, fluttering his lashes at Changbin with a pretty little pout on his lips.

“And yours, silly,” Changbin laughs out and Hyunjin smiles, leans up to kiss Changbin, then you, watches as Changbin kisses you with a smile on his lips, before he settles back down, cuddles back up to you. Changbin yawns.

“We should shower …” he says, half-heartedly, but you huff, pull his arm closer around you.

“Just … a few more minutes,” you mumble, and Changbin can hear the sleep already tugging at your consciousness.

“Yeah, this is nice,” Hyunjin adds, scoots closer until his forehead is resting against yours on the pillow. His eyes are already closed.

And Changbin? Well, what is he going to do. He ignores the stickiness between his legs in favour of the soft body of his love in his arms, and when sleep tugs at his consciousness, beckoned by Hyunjin’s soft snores, he lets it overtake him. They can always shower later. They have all the time in the world now.

A year later, on his birthday, they’re all out together at a Korean BBQ place, one that Jisung and Minho go to so often that they’ve become friends with the owners, and always get a private room in the back where they can truly have privacy.

You and Hyunjin disappear after the meat is all eaten, and then you walk back in, moments later, side by side, holding a giant cake. Everyone sings happy birthday.

The cake has a picture of the three of you on it, because his birthday is now also partly your anniversary. You usually celebrate twice, though. Not like any of you need an excuse to be sappy and romantic on any given day. You may be the sappiest couple, or throuple, Changbin knows. He loves every second of it.

In the picture on the cake, Changbin is standing in between you two, Hyunjin’s arm slung around his shoulders, you folded into his side. You took it at Namsan Tower a couple of months ago, asked a stranger to take it in front of the famous hearts, giggling when you pulled down your masks and the stranger looked confused, like he was trying to figure out where he knew you from. It was a beautiful night. You ate ice cream and stole sticky sweet kisses in alleyways and behind trees and then went home and fucked each other’s brains out until Jisung was pounding on the wall separating his room from Hyunjin’s begging you to stop.

You place the cake down on the table in front of him as the song ends. Someone tells him to blow out the candles and make a wish. He blows them out and wishes this – you, Changbin and Hyunjin – will last forever.

Everyone cheers, you squeal, wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind. Hyunjin sits back down at his place to Changbin’s right and laces his fingers with his. He gives Changbin the biggest, fondest, smile, and leans in until he's cuddled into his side. Changbin’s heart melts.

You pepper sweet little kisses all over his cheek and over his neck.

“Happy birthday, Binnie,” you whisper, happiness evident in your voice. “I love you so much.”

skzms masterlist // ko-fi star dividers just for me by the lovely @lunarvue - thank you, my love!!

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[aeyla]

Hi luv<3 how you doin?

Currently thinking about sweet and lazy sex with Bang Chan after an exhausting day... 😵‍💫

Like imagine a slow makeout sesh and then just some sleepy fucking aaah im going crazy i need him so bad hes so sweet and cute and baby omg

no because 🥲 he'd still make it so sensual, you know

🔞 under the cut!

Maybe you're half asleep when he gets home, only distantly aware of him humming a hello and shucking off his jeans before disappearing into the bathroom to wash up, before you doze off again. But the mattress dipping, Chan's warm body slipping under the covers and pulling you onto his chest wakes you up again. You hum contentedly. He presses a kiss onto your temple, and you can feel the smile in it.

He mumbles a 'how are you, baby?' in your hair, lets you ramble about your day among yawns, his gentle hand tracing up and down your spine, slipping under your shirt, raising goosebumps all over your skin.

But lying like this, curled into his strong chest, one leg thrown over his hip, his thigh resting between yours, his hands all over you – it's like your body responds to his, warm arousal dripping between your legs before you even know it.

But, of course he knows as he starts to press more kisses into your hair, shifting his leg up higher until it's pressed between your legs, solid and firm, winds his arm around you so when he leans closer he's hovering over you, wide chest pressing you into the bed. His eyes glimmer in the low light, pupils blown, his plump lips slightly parted, and the thin thread of your patience snaps. Your upper back lifts off the bed when you lean up to kiss him.

He meets you halfway, guides you back into the pillows, his lips soft on yours until they're not, until all pretences fly out the window and the kiss turns urgent, deep, messy, and he's pushing you deeper into the mattress.

He doesn't stop kissing you, swallows your breathless sighs when he glides a hand up your sternum, pushes your top out of the way so he can massage your tits. Tendrils of pleasure shoot through your body when he thumbs your nipple. His tongue slides against yours as he slips your sleep shorts and panties down your legs, shoving them somewhere to the side before he finally sinks his fingers into your wetness.

He works you open, his strong fingers pumping into you so well it makes your vision fuzzy, but all you can focus on is his hard, hot cock rubbing against your legs where it's still trapped in his boxers. It's difficult with how tightly you're pressed together, but somehow you manage to shoving his boxers down, wrapping your hand around his throbbing length. His chest arches into yours, your nipples dragging against his skin when you start stroking him in time with his fingers inside of you.

There are no words needed when his hips buck wildly with one especially delicious twist of your wrist – he pulls his fingers from you and flips you onto your back. Your legs part for him readily, allowing him to settle in between them. He runs a hot hand over your back, over your ass, grabbing a handful as he taps the head of his cock against your entrance.

You can't do much except take it when he settles his hand on your lower back and pushes himself into you to the hilt with a shaky groan. Your body melts into the sheets with the intrusion, the hot slide of him so good, your legs spreading, back arching, desperate to give him more access, give him everything.

He groans at the sight, lets his body drape over your back, presses a soft kiss to your shoulder as he rolls his hips, twin moans falling from your lips.

His body shudders against yours, and he takes a second to get his bearings, before he snaps his hips into you again, just a little bit harder this time, and it punches a gasp out of you, your cunt clenching around him so hard he moans into your ear.

You see stars when he starts fucking into you like that, the sheets slowly falling down, revealing your sweaty bodies to the cool of the room, and the contrast of sensations makes more goosebumps break out all over your skin. One of his hands finds yours, laces your fingers, pins it against the pillow next to your head.

It's so perfect, it always is, the way he fills you, your body pliant in the sheets as he gives you everything you need, takes everything he needs in return. You wish you could stay here forever, fevered skin against fevered skin in the sheets of your bed, his hot cock pounding into you until you can't think any more.

His hand on your hips tightens, grips you harder, pulls you to meet his thrusts, until your toes are curling, and your legs are shaking, and your whines are breathless and uncontrollable and make his pace falter.

He whimpers something into your neck, something about love something about perfection, and then his teeth sink into your skin, he shoves himself as deep as he can go, abdomen flush with your ass. He cums with a strangled moan, hit hot seed spilling so deep into you, you think this time your birth control might fail you.

He's still cumming when he lets go of your hand in favour of reaching between you and the bed, rubbing your clit, making you see stars as he keeps fucking himself into you messily, no doubt working himself through and well beyond his orgasm just long enough for you to finally tumble over the edge with a sob, his fingers slipping messily over your clit when your hips buck, his moans a litany of whimpers as you clench around him where he's slowly softening inside of you.

He stays inside of you, draped over your back, pressing hot kisses into your skin, over the bite mark on your neck every now and again while you catch your breath, his spent gasps fanning over your skin.

His release drips out of you, hot and sticky and intimate, when he peels himself off you, but your limbs feel like jelly, so you stay like that. Your face is still smushed into the pillows, probably looking less than flattering – though you wouldn't be able to tell with the smitten smile he fixes you with as he fishes his boxers from the floor, uses them to wipe at the mess between your legs before he goes digging around the bed for your panties and sleep shorts.

Quietly, carefully, he flips you back onto your back, redresses you, tugs your sleep shorts back into place, tying a pretty little bow with the strings, like you won't have to get up to pee and clean yourself up in few minutes, anyways. Though maybe if you come back later and pout a little bit, he'll tie them for you again.

When you meet his gaze, his pretty face flushed in the afterglow, fanning down over his chiselled chest, you think that all of that can wait for a few more minutes. You pull him down into your lips and he comes willingly.

skzms' masterlist // ko-fi

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[aeyla]

there’s not really a day that goes by without me thinking about chan in love…

Chan, who gives the best hugs, his arms winding around your shoulders to pull you close into his warm, solid chest. Chan, who has a hard time letting go of you when you feel so perfect in his arms; whose heart is beating like crazy every time he does it, but who doesn't seem to know what's good for him because he still always finds excuses to touch you.

Chan, whose favourite thing about you has always been how you continue to surprise him – in the simple ways, yes, when you offer to pick him up from a schedule and show up with his favourite gimbap and convenience store coffee combo, but also in the way that you are. Because every time he thinks he’ll know what you’ll do, what you’ll say, you’ll like, you’ll do something entirely new. He invites you out to dinner, and you show up with a bag full of vinyl because you just got into it (and you bought one for him, a cool-looking one that matches his room to display on his walls because he can’t play it. He wonders how you always think of everything). He takes you to an industry event, and you end up charming a guy he’s been wanting to talk to for ages. A fan from Europe comes up to you, and it turns out you speak their language. Most days, he’s so in awe of you it makes him stutter when he asks you the simplest questions.

Chan, who never has to ask for your attention. He can’t think about it for too long, lest he lets himself get carried away, but you always seem to have an eye on him, able to pick up on his moods so effortlessly. You can take one look at him across a crowded room and within seconds, you’re next to him, your arm looping through his, your solid warmth easing the burn of annoyance in his chest. He’s asked you about it once, and you’d said it wasn’t a big deal because it was part of loving someone. You’d turned back to your sushi, as if you hadn’t just made his lovesick heart beat out of his chest.

Chan, who asks himself how you’re always so strong.

Chan, who thinks you don’t need him at all.

Chan, who’s fiercely protective of you, nonetheless; who always makes sure your seatbelt is fastened, who will gently shift you to his other side if you’re walking on the street side of the sidewalk, who will not let you take public transport after dark, coming to pick you up himself or paying for your Uber if he can’t.

Chan, who resigns himself to loving you for the rest of his life without telling you; who told Changbin that he would probably still attend your wedding, even if you got married to someone else. Changbin had looked at him like he lost his goddamn mind. Chan thinks he has, the day he met you.

Chan, who lies awake at night, trying and failing not to think about it, about you, about whether your smile to him today meant anything, or if he was being delusional about you bringing him gifts meaning something because today you brought Han a coffee because Chan told you he was tired. Chan, who, when he’s not overthinking every single one of your interactions (‘like a lovesick teenager’ he reproves himself), can spend hours daydreaming about what it would be like to be yours, to be loved by you. His favourite daydreams are the simple, domestic ones; coming home to you every night, pressing a kiss into your hair, breathing in your shampoo as he falls asleep with his face buried in your soft skin.

Chan, who doesn’t believe in signs from the universe; but when you get surprised by a rainstorm on the way back from an impromptu dinner, and he stretches his jacket over the two of you as you run to take refuge under a small awning like you’re in a romance movie; when you’re standing there, laughing up at him, soaking wet, beautiful, radiant, standing way too close to him – he takes the hint and kisses you, and kisses you like he means it, too, unable to squander his one chance to know what loving you tastes like.

Chan, who doesn’t expect you to kiss him back; so when you do, pulling him closer against your sweet, soft body with a hunger that mirrors his, it’s like his heart cracks open, his love, his need for you leaking into every fibre of his being, and before you know it, you’re filthily making out in the doorway of a random apartment complex.

Chan, who wants to do it all right. Who takes you to Australia, to meet his family, who brings wine and flowers when he meets your parents, who buys you red roses and takes you out to dinner until you giggle and tell him he doesn’t need to do all that, that you’re happy just to be with him.

Chan, who loves taking you on tour whenever he can, if just for a couple days; because he misses you, yes, but also because his life only feels right when he can share every part of it with you.

Chan, who also loves taking you on trips. Japan in the spring, Europe in the summer – and wood mountain cabins in the winter. Chan, who one year, during one of those winter holidays, makes love to you in front of the fireplace and proposes right there, just you and him and the crackle of the firewood and the snow outside the window. Just you and him, forever.

skzms' masterlist // ko-fi

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[aeyla]

I don't know if you're still doing them, but if you are, can you do Changbin for the drunk flirting series? I love your writing so much ♥

friend oh my god – this ask has been in my ask box for MONTHS and i am SO SORRY!!! but I had this idea for binnie in my head for SO LONG, I just never had the time to write it. UNTIL NOW

I got really angry at this halfway through because I wanted it to be a drabble, and it ended up so fucken long, but then I finished it anyways because I hate half done things hahaha

*photo unrelated to the plot, it's just so the vibe and so him </3

🔞 because everything on my blog is but this is 5.6k words of just ..... fluff? who am I! getting together, friends to lovers, pining. ofc they're a lil horny for each other, but nothing graphic at all. barely a kiss!!!

When Changbin’s phone rings, it’s already well past midnight.

He just heated up some of his leftover jjajangmyeon from earlier, piping hot plastic bowl sitting on the side of his desk, ready to fuel him through another couple hours of work, hunched over his laptop, working on some beats he, Chan and Jisung have been trying to get ready for a new EP for weeks, when his phone buzzes to life. When he looks over, it’s Chan’s name on the caller ID.

Chan and Jisung were at Hyunjin’s house for some drinks along with you and pretty much everyone else. Changbin himself had been invited, too, of course, but he’d declined in favour of sinking further into his work mode. He just … got into one of his moods. Flow states, or whatever they call it these days. Locked in, zoned out of the real world, the music just pouring out of him.

He doesn’t get nearly enough of those nights. Always something on his mind that distracts him, keeps him from really sinking his teeth into his music.

And Chan knows that – so there must be a reason why he’s calling. Changbin tries to swallow the instinct to panic, puts his chopsticks down and picks up the phone.

He’s greeted by the sound of yelling, laughing, and music.

“Hyung?”

“Binnie!” Chan yells through the phone, way too loudly. By the lack of his volume control alone, it’s clear to Changbin that Chan is, in fact, drunk.

“I thought it was only going to be a chill night, a couple of drinks,” he tries to tease, but he hears Chan laugh, say something to someone on his end, before he comes back to the call.

“Sorry, Binnie, what did you say?”

“Nothing, hyung,” Changbin snorts, “what’s up? Why are you calling? I have some jjajangmyeon, a diet coke and a beat calling my name.”

“Well,” Chan hums. He sounds like he’s grinning. At least it’s nothing to worry about then, even if irritation gnaws at Changbin’s guts. Can he just come out with it instead of wasting Changbin’s time, ripping him out of his flow, infusing him with that vague sense of FOMO he so narrowly avoided falling prey to earlier, when they left for Hyunjin’s?!

“I have someone here who’s been asking for you …”

Changbin freezes. His heart rabbits in his chest.

“Is it Y/N? Is everything alright?”

Chan laughs. Changbin tries and fails not to blush. Dammit. He’s so transparent.

“She’s fiiiiine,” he giggles, “she’s completely fine. Well, she’s a little drunk. Or a lot. And she’s asking for you.”

Changbin sighs. He briefly considers pretending like you don’t have him wrapped around your little finger, but what’s the point. Chan knows. Everyone knows. Changbin is head over heels in love with his best friend. Yes, yes, everybody laugh. How typical.

“Okay, but she’s fine? She’s not going to throw up?” he asks. He can’t help it. The thought of you somewhere, inebriated, without him to catch you if you trip – he doesn’t like it, okay.

“Nah, she’s alright. But Hyunjin offered her to crash in his bed and Jisung and Minho even offered to take her home, but she won’t budge. Begged me to call you, actually. But I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

As if on cue, Changbin hears you squeal in the background, whining Minho’s name dramatically, with just that hint of flirtiness in your tone that makes Changbin a little bit desperate.

Chan doesn’t seem to like his silence.

“Come oon, Binnie,” he singsongs, “you live 15 minutes away. And I know full well that you’re just dying to come see your–“

“Okay, okay, fine!” Changbin interrupts him before Chan says anything he’ll regret in a room full of people. “I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Attaboy,” Chan responds, and Changbin can hear the smirk in his voice. “I’ll let her know. See ya soon!”

And he hangs up before Changbin can even say goodbye, which just makes Changbin even more annoyed.

But he can’t stay annoyed.

He plops the lid back on his food, shoves it into the fridge, changes into a warmer sweater and some clean sweats, and he’s out the door. Less than 3 minutes after he hung up the phone. He’s a lost cause.

The drive is quick and quiet, the streets pretty empty at this time of night. It’s only a Thursday. How Hyunjin’s little get together turned into a full-blown party, Changbin doesn’t know. But it doesn’t surprise him. Hyunjin likes hanging out with his friends, and he likes partying – and Felix likes those things even more. So when the two of them are together, this is usually the outcome. Changbin should know. They have set the scene for most of the most formative scenes of his young adulthood. Like that time when drunk monopoly turned into body shots, which turned into a whole bottle of raspberry vodka tipped over Changbin’s chest, just when you were leaning in to whisper something potentially life-alteringly dirty in his ear – so instead of maybe, just maybe, making out with you, he ended up half-naked in the shower with Chan, who was the victim of the other bottle that got tipped of the table. Though the tequila that hit him smelled much worse than the flavoured vodka and Changbin’s clothes. A small win.

When Changbin gets out of his car in front of Hyunjin’s apartment complex, he can hear everyone’s voices already. They’re floating through a half open window, three stories up. He takes a deep breath of the fresh night air, and rings the bell.

More commotion through the intercom, aside from Hyunjin’s voice, an elevator ride and a trudge down the hallway to his front door later, Changbin steps foot into Hyunjin’s small apartment and closes the door quietly behind him. No reason to give the neighbours any more reasons to complain than they already have.

There aren’t many people; only their usual gang, Hyunjin and Felix, predictably. Jisung and Minho, half in each other’s laps in the corner of the sofa, also, predictably, looking about two seconds away from making out. Chan, Seungmin, Jeongin. And you, between the latter two, your upper body leaning against Jeongin, your feet in

Seungmin’s lap. Petty jealousy makes him scowl at where Jeongin’s arm is thrown over your shoulder, his hand is rubbing up and down your arm.

Chan gives him a grin when he sees him and loudly announces his arrival. It makes you sit up, leaving a smirking Jeongin behind you as you whirl around, and the smile that lights up your face makes Changbin a little weak in the knees.

“Binnie,” you gasp, and Jeongin behind you gives Changbin a look before he unceremoniously gets up, walks around the sofa table and plops down on the sofa next to Jisung and Minho.

You stretch your arms towards him and make grabby hands and Changbin melts.

He’s next to you embarrassingly quickly, not even a glance at anyone else, and comes to crouch in front of you. Seungmin next to you gently takes your legs from his lap and places them on the floor. You reward him with a sweet smile before you turn all your attention to Changbin. Something about the way you’re too focused on him to notice Seungmin getting up to leave you and Changbin on the little sofa, makes Changbin’s heart swell with pride.

“I can’t believe you actually came,” you breathe out. There’s vodka cranberry on your breath, a flush on your face, but your words aren’t slurred. Only a little louder than usual – more sincere. A dangerous sheen in your eyes. One of your earrings is askew, the clasp of your necklace hanging at the front instead of the back. You’re the most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen, and he wishes he could have the privilege to tuck those little bits back into place, to touch you like that, casually, yet with all the purpose in the world.

“Yeah? You asked Chan to tell me to come, and you didn’t expect it to work?”

He watches your pretty lips part, before you grimace cutely and hide your face in your hands.

“Chaaaan,” you whine, “I told you not to tell himmm.”

You curl into yourself, and it makes the sleeve of your top slip off your shoulder. Changbin reaches out and tugs it back into place before he can think better of it. When he realises what he’s done, he flushes. He hopes he can blame it on the fact that he just came in from the cold. Gently, Changbin catches you around the wrists, tugs your hands away from your face.

“Hey, none of that,” he murmurs, trying to sound soothing, “of course, I would’ve come. When have I ever not come when you called, hm?”

You lift your head and stare at him. Your eyes are huge. Changbin fidgets under your gaze, laughs awkwardly, trying to fill the silence that threatens to smother his poor, yearning heart.

“So, what’s up? What did you need me for?” he asks, tries to will the desperate edge out of his voice.

“Oh,” you blink, tip your head to the side a little. Let your languid gaze drag over his face. Molten heat surges through his stomach.

“Nothing. I mean … just missed you, I guess.”

Changbin’s brain goes offline for a solid second. He thinks he might’ve misheard. You couldn’t have possibly just said that. Although … well, It’s a relatively normal thing to say, he guesses, but something about the way you said it…

When he doesn’t respond, your eyes widen.

‘E-Everyone did, I mean, r-right?” you stammer, throw a look over Changbin’s shoulder at where the rest of your friends are scattered across the room. Changbin nearly jumps out of his skin before he flushes red-hot. He’d somehow completely forgotten they were there. Minho giggles, scoffs out a sarcastic “sure” that’s followed by someone, presumably Jisung, slapping his arm, and Hyunjin coming to your rescue.

“Yeah!” Hyunjin exclaims, “of course we all missed you, hyung!’

You smile at Hyunjin, gratefully. Your cheeks are so flushed he can basically feel the heat radiating off them. Changbin is so endeared, he thinks he might cry. He doesn’t think before he speaks.

“Oh, and here I thought I was special to you.”

It’s teasing. Just a little jab that could be interpreted as friendly, but it nonetheless makes his neck burn hot. It’s not that you never flirt, like you don’t bat your eyelashes at him, like he doesn’t call you darling and takes your hand when he helps out of the car – but it’s not usually like this. And it’s not in front of other people.

“But you are,” you mumble. Then smile. Widely, yet softly. “You’re the most … the most special to me.”

Your nonsensical words slur a little at the end, and Changbin remembers that you’re drunk. He tries to let that rein in the wild flutter of butterflies in his stomach, but he fails spectacularly.

The fly rampant as he smiles, reaches out to pat your arm awkwardly – but you catch his hand. Lace your fingers with his. Changbin stares. The butterflies go crazy.

But you’re already dragging him closer until you pull him to sit next to you on the sofa, immediately folding your legs underneath you and pressing your entire body weight into his side as the conversation slowly picks up around you again.

He didn’t plan on staying, but how could he say no when you’re still holding his hand. He sinks into the couch and makes space for you readily, of course he does. Lifts his arm so you can scoot closer, so he can hold you to him. Your head falls to his shoulder, and he sends a prayer of gratitude to whoever’s listening that he sat down on your left side so maybe you won’t hear the way his heart is threatening to thunk its way out of his ribcage.

When Changbin finally rips his eyes away from you for the first time since he stepped foot into the room, everyone is staring at him with varying levels of amusement. Minho is smirking like an evil maniac, Jisung like a lovelorn one, like he’s watching his favourite drama and the two love interests are about to get together. Felix is staring at him with big, shiny eyes, but Seungmin has one eyebrow raised where he sits, looking from Changbin to you. Chan’s expression is the worst – he’s smiling, so wide his eyes have become crescents. He looks so excited. Then he waggles his eyebrows. Gives Changbin a look.

Changbin flushes. He can feel his face burn. You snuggle in closer, nudge your cheek into his shoulder and his arm tightens around you. He settles in like this for a while. Has a coke. Watches one of the random videos pulled up on the TV, half listens to everyone drunkenly make bad jokes about it. Really, the only thing he can focus on is your chest rising and falling against his. Your warmth plastered against his side, seeping through his sweater where your hand is now resting on his belly. How your voice shivers through his bones when you speak.

You’re smiling a lot. Just to yourself, mostly, as you sit there, cuddled into him. But you also giggle. Laugh at everything and anything the others say. Beam at Felix when he beams at you. It’s the happiest Changbin has maybe ever seen you.

You must feel his eyes on you because suddenly, you look up at him, and he thinks his world stutters to a halt. You’re right there, cheek smushed against the soft sweater on his shoulder. Grinning, eyes twinkling and sparkling with bliss, looking at him like he’s the reason for it.

He forces himself to smile back, squeezes your side where his hand is resting against you, and you just smile wider, before you tuck yourself back into his side. Wiggle a little until you’re comfortable.

Changbin’s body feels a few sizes too small and his chest is tight. He holds out for a few minutes, just long enough so you don’t think he’s running away from you (because if you got upset with him now, after looking so happy, he would not know how to forgive himself), before he excuses himself, nearly kisses the sweet pout off your face when he dislodges you from his side, and stumbles to the bathroom.

When the door clicks shut behind him, Changbin takes a moment to just stand there and try and catch his breath. He stares at himself in the mirror.

His cheeks are still flushed. They haven’t stopped burning. He feels drunk. High. Half out of his mind, his mind swirling and swirling with the feeling of you in his arms, with the way you smiled up at him, snuggled into him, as if you couldn’t get close enough. His whole side still feels warm with the heat of your body. When he smells his sleeve, it smells like your perfume.

Usually, he has a pretty tight hold on this. His crush. No, it’s not a crush. Never was. He’s madly in love with you, and there was never a point in denying it. But usually, he disguises it behind the fact that he’s affectionate with all of his friends. He’s the soft one, the nice guy who calls his mom twice a week. When he tucks your hair into place and holds your hand as you pass through a busy street, when he pulls out your chair for you at dinner and always drives you places, even when it’s really out of his way – he just brushes it off as being a gentleman. But this is beyond even that.

This night is so bad for him. He wants so badly, and it’s getting really hard to pretend he doesn’t when you act like that. Make him get his hopes up.

He messes with his hair, flushes the toilet when he remembers his excuse, steels himself and opens the door.

He gets shocked out of his sulkiness when he steps back into the living room and watches you, crosslegged on the couch, leaning forward, downing a shot of something dangerously clear alongside Felix and Hyunjin. And before the first one is even down, your face still scrunched up adorably, you pick up the second one – but before you can drink it, Changbin slides back onto the sofa next to you, winds one arm around your wrist and uses the other to pluck the shot glass from your fingers.

You whine, try to lean in to take your shot back from him, but Changbin tightens his grip and stretches his arm as far as he can behind him, holding the glass out of your reach. Your face pulls into the most dramatic, most adorable little pout he’s ever seen on you.

“Yeah, I don’t think two more is a good idea,” he grumbles out softly, but sternly, as he gives you a look. You strain against his hold on your wrist, and he tries not to think too hard about the little grunt you make, the way you struggle but can’t get out of his grip. Felix boos and Hyunjin giggles stupidly.

“Binnieeeeee,” you whine, drag out the end of his name, jostle against his hold as you lean forward, trying to reach for the shot again, but he just holds it further back behind himself. He doesn’t fight you when you lean closer, when you start leaning over his lap, your hand dropping to his thigh, dangerously high up for his already frayed emotional state. He can smell your shampoo, the peach soju on your breath from the shot he wasn’t there to take from you in time.

“Y/Niiieee,” he imitates you, and he loves how he can watch as your eyes widen, when you realise what he’s doing, before they crinkle with an almost smile, that you swallow at the last second. God, your eyes are shimmering in this light. He swears they hold entire galaxies.

Your head cocks to the side and you pout. He cocks his head, too, pouts right back – watches, giddy, drunk on you, as your grin widens, your eyes sparkle even more with amusement. It’s better than a shot of adrenaline straight to the jugular.

He gives you one more look and leans forward to put the shot back onto the little table, while still holding you back and you whine. “Why do you have to be so strooong, it’s not faaaair!”

God, he wishes it didn’t, but his cock twitches a little in his sweats.

Which is … even worse because when he leans back, with one last stern look at you that tells you not to pick up the shot again, and relaxes back against the sofa, you wrench your hand free from his grasp, dig your fingers into his thigh and suddenly, you’re straddling him.

He’s pretty sure he makes the dumbest noise known to man when your ass hits his thighs, but maybe you didn’t hear him over the screeching and ooh-ing of literally all your other friends behind you.

You don’t seem perturbed, bore your pretty eyes into his, eyebrows drawn into a determined little scowl. Your cheeks are burning.

You catch one of his wrists with one of your hands, then the other and Changbin yelps when you pin them against the back of the sofa next to his head. Changbin’s throat runs dry and he’s pretty sure this is how he dies. You’re staring down at him, eyes a little unfocused and … and … like you want to devour him.

“Not fair,” you mumble, and Changbin knows he has to make a choice right this second. Because if he stays here any longer 1. he’ll get hard, and that’ll be really bad and 2. you’re maybe about to drunkenly kiss him, with an audience of 6 of your closest friends – something you’d most definitely regret tomorrow.

As gently as he can, he slips his wrists out of your grip, winds one arm around your waist, and gets up in one, quick motion. You’re not light, but you’re not heavy either, almost a comforting weight in his arms. You make a little noise of surprise, but wrap your legs around him almost instinctively, your arms slipping around his neck. He can feel the heat of your cheek where it’s pressed against the side of his neck.

“Okay,” he announces, “that’s enough. I’m taking this one home.” More heckling. Cooing and wolf whistling. Jisung yells “just as it was about to get good” just as Seungmin scoffs out a dry “please, have your foreplay in private”.

Somehow, he manages to make one of them actually collect your phone from the coffee table and your bag from somewhere behind the sofa, plucks your coat off the hook by the door and with one last goodbye and a ‘text you later, fuckers’ makes it out onto the hallway.

He sighs when he pulls the door shut behind himself and only feels your arms tighten around him, making no effort to remove yourself from his hold. Only then does he realise you were quiet the whole time, while he was getting you two out of there.

“You alright, baby?” he asks, as you wait for elevator, cringing when the endearment slips out. But you don’t seem to care. Only nod into his neck. He knows something’s not right, but he doesn’t want to push it. The situation feels fragile all of a sudden. So he holds you quietly, rubs his thumb soothingly over your back, until the elevator arrives and all the way down and to his car, pulls you closer when you shiver against the cool night air.

After he opens his car door, he taps your leg.

“You gotta get off now, sweetheart, or I can’t take you home,” he mumbles, as sweetly as he can, and you finally, reluctantly unfold your legs from his waist and jump onto the floor.

Only when you can no longer avoid it, do you finally meet his eyes, and to Changbin’s surprise you look … embarrassed. He blinks, before he catches himself and smiles.

“Come on, get in, I’ll drive you home, okay?”

You nod and do as he says, and he opens the back door to place your stuff on the back seat before he rounds the car and slips into the driver’s seat.

Before doing anything else, he starts the car and cranks the heat, though what’s blowing at first is nothing but lukewarm air.

“Can we …” you start, but suddenly stop and shake yourself, sliding further down in your seat and redirecting your gaze out the window. You’re shivering slightly. Changbin wills his car to warm up faster.

“Hm? ‘Can we’ what?”

You just shake your head, mumble out a quick little ‘nothing’ and Changbin’s heart squeezes in his chest. He reaches out, tucks a strand of hair behind your ear softly. Your eyelids flutter at the touch.

“Come on, spit it out.”

You sigh, turn to face him.

“Can … can I maybe sleep at yours?”

It’s a bad idea, he thinks, and it’s like you can read it on his face.

“No, not like that, I swear! I just … I get anxious when I sleep alone when I’m drunk. With everything spinning and all that … it’s just … uncomfortable.”

Changbin lets out a long breath.

“Of course you can,” he says, before he has to turn away to start the car, before he does something stupid, like lean over to try and soothe the worry out of your beautiful mind with a kiss.

The ‘thank you’ you whisper into the air gets drowned out by the engine humming to life.

The drive is silent for a long time. Neither of you ever turned the radio on, so the only sound is the engine, the gears shifting into place, the tires on the road. He stops at a red light, still 10 minutes away from his house. There’s not a single other car on the street, like you’re the only people in the world. It makes the silence hanging between you thicker.

You break it suddenly.

“I’m sorry.”

The words are so quiet that, for a second, Changbin isn’t even sure you were speaking at all. But when he turns to you, you’re already looking at him. You look even more embarrassed than earlier.

“F-for what?” he asks, shakily.

“For what I d- … for how I acted earlier. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable,” you mumble, and once the apology is out, you shift in your seat, turn forwards until you’re no longer forced to look at him. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth and start worrying it there, your arms coming to wrap around yourself protectively.

“I- I wasn’t thinking. It’s stupid. I’m stupid. But I need to say it now because otherwise I’ll never say it. God knows I won’t say it sober,” you laugh dryly. You look so sad it makes Changbin’s heart bleed.

“It’s stupid because I’m in love with you. And sometimes I let myself believe you might like me, too. And my drunk brain tonight decided to do something stupid like get– like flirt with you, and it made you uncomfortable. So I’m sorry.”

Changbin is too stunned to speak. The light has long since turned green, but the car is still idling. He’s staring at you – staring at the centre of his fucking universe, the woman he’s been silently dreaming of one day marrying for the better part of the last two years, who just told him she’s in love with him, too. He feels dizzy, overwhelmed with how his heart is filling with so much love.

He tries to take a deep breath, but it comes out stuttery. There are so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do, but he has to be strong. Has to resist the temptation because you deserve better than in the car in the middle of the night on a Thursday, he in sweats and you half drunk.

He just hopes you remember this tomorrow.

You huff, your chest trembling with something that isn’t the cold. You sniffle quietly, before you rub the back of your hand over your nose angrily.

“I’m sorry. I’ll get over it.”

Changbin shakes his head before he realises you can’t see him.

“Hey,” he whispers. His voice is shaky, barely there.

You turn to him. He reaches out, cups your face with his palm. Wipes the tear running down your cheek away with his thumb.

“Don’t,” he somehow manages to say, “we’ll talk tomorrow. But just … don’t. Don’t get over it. … Please.”

You stare at him, eyes wide, your mouth hanging slightly open. He waits until you nod, before he retracts his hand, shifts into first gear and finally pulls away from the stoplight.

When he pulls into his parking spot in front of his house and looks over, you’re fast asleep. Slumped against the car door, your arms still wrapped around yourself tightly, you look small. Vulnerable. It makes something so protective flare up in Changbin’s chest that for a second, he doesn’t know what to do with himself, so overcome is he with the sheer magnitude of what he feels for you.

But before long, he has to shut off the car. As quietly as he can, he gets out, collects your things from the back seat, before he wakes you just enough to coax you back into his arms so he can carry you inside.

By now it seems like your tipsiness has given way to a bone deep tiredness because you barely manage to keep your eyes open. So he carries you all the way into his bedroom, sits you down on the bed. He goes to the kitchen to get you some water, and by the time he comes back he finds you curled up on top of the sheets, fully dressed, back asleep. He wakes you softly, helps you sit up to drink, but you sway and nearly topple over, so he holds the bottle to your lips, forces you to drink at least half, before he closes it back up and places it on the bedside table. Coaxing you along with quiet words, he asks you to take off your jeans, helps you out of them, his eyes glued to your face until he has folded the bedsheets over your bare legs, and hands you one of his t-shirts, asking you to change into it. You rip your shirt over your head, and Changbin just about manages to turn around before you slip out of your bra and shrug his shirt on.

Only once he hears you settle into the sheets does he turn around. As gently as he can, he tucks the duvet in behind your back and brushes your hair away from your face gently. You shiver under his touch, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a second, before he gets overwhelmed. As you doze off, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, stores in it all the care, all the love he has for you – and a silent wish, a prayer that you wake up tomorrow, and you still remember what you said to him. That you meant it.

Then you’re asleep. Breathing quietly, face pressed into his pillows. He gets up. Collects your clothes from the floor, before he slips into the bathroom, changes into a fresh shirt and gets out of his sweats, and slides into bed with you. He lies there, awake, next to you, without touching you, for a long time, just listening to you breathing, wondering what will happen tomorrow morning.

When you wake up, you don’t know where you are for all of 2 seconds before you blink open your eyes, and you’re met with Changbin’s adorable, sleeping face.

He’s on his back, thick chest rising and falling with deep breaths, his head lolled towards you. His sweet, heart-shaped lips are slightly open, little snores tumbling from them. The back of his hand is resting against your knee. It twitches slightly as he dreams.

You’ve slept over at his place countless times over the years, though usually, he sets you up on the pull-out couch. You’ve never woken up in his bed before.

You smile. Can’t help it. He’s adorable. Gorgeous. Pink and sleep-soft, warm and kind and safe. You trust him unconditionally, know that you can because he’s him. You’ve been in love with him ever since you met him.

The memory of last night doesn’t crash over you. Rather, it settles into your bones quietly, calmly. You’d said it. You’d finally said it. The relief was enough, no matter how much it hurt, but then he’d spoken. He’d looked at you like you only ever dreamed of, and he’d told you not to get over it.

He loves you, too.

You want to snuggle close to him, maybe wake him with a hesitant, first little kiss to his cheek, but you’re thirsty. You need to pee. You need to take at least one painkiller, though your headache isn’t bad. You hadn’t actually been that drunk last night. Only sentimental. Spurred on by a heart-to-heart with Hyunjin and a kind of frustrated determination to finally stop pining over your best friend.

You slip out of bed without waking him, grabbing the half empty water bottle and quietly lock yourself in the bathroom. You know where he keeps it all – get the painkillers out of the top cabinet, swallow one with some water. You pee, then get your toothbrush out of the bottom cabinet, where he always keeps it. Brush your teeth quietly.

When you slip back into the bedroom, Changbin is sitting up against his headboard. He’s a picture –squinting into the morning sunlight, rubbing at his eye with the ball of his hand. His curly hair is sticking up in all directions. The muscles in his arms bulge distractingly against the fabric of his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice still deep and thick with sleep, “you didn’t throw up, did you?”

You huff out a soft little laugh, shake your head. “Just went to pee. Brushed my teeth.”

He nods blearily, but relieved.

Your patience runs out. You skip back over to the bed, just about resisting the urge to run, giggling, your heart beating erratically, giddily in your ears as you get back under the covers, slide over until your bare legs find his. Before he can stop you, you crawl over him –and collapse onto his chest with a happy hum.

Changbin freezes underneath you. You’re pretty sure he isn’t even breathing, but his heartbeat is loud. It thunders under your ear as you sink into his sleep warm, no, sleep hot body with a barely contained shudder. When he finally wraps his arms around you, you think you could cry. You’re so happy.

“Baby?” he asks, softly, and you sigh, lift your head enough to look at him. He’s staring at you with so much astonishment, you can’t help but smile. “So, you remember last night.”

You huff out a laugh, feel your cheeks warming. But you nod.

“You really … you … me?”

You watch as he struggles around the words, watch his cheeks tint pink, and his composure wane the longer you’re silent. You decide to take pity on him.

“I’m really in love with you, yeah,” you whisper. You feel yourself blush harder as you say the words. And despite how clear he was last night, there’s an agonising second where you wonder if you read it all wrong.

But then he smiles. Throws his head back and laughs, disbelieving, winded.

“I can’t … is this real life?!”

You giggle right back, sit back, straddling his hips, bring your hands to cup his face.

“Say it back,” you mumble, only half serious. You can feel his love seeping into through every inch of his skin pressed against yours, already. It’s dizzying.

He inhales shakily, places his own hands over yours on his face and finally looks at you.

“I love you, too, baby. Have for a long time.”

You can’t resist it. You squeal, dip in to press your forehead against his, leaning in slowly, but he chokes, turns his head.

“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet!”

He looks genuinely worried, but you shrug. You rub your thumb over the soft skin of his cheeks, lean in again until your lips brush against his and whisper three words before you lean in and finally kiss him.

“I don’t care.”

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!

[aeyla]

˳೫˚∗ part 2 to to this ask

Minho vaguely hears Jisung chuckle but he doesn’t have time to figure out what that means because all at once, Jisung’s lips are back on his and he’s climbing into Minho’s lap and Minho’s already fuzzy mind loses focus again. All he knows how to do is kiss Jisung back, running his shaky hands all over Jisung’s skin, skimming his trim little waist, brushing against his abs and up his toned chest. Jisung’s body is warm and familiar underneath his hands, but never before had Minho been able to lose himself in it so completely.

When Jisung needily grinds his perfect ass down on his bulge, Minho can’t help the pathetic moan that pushes its way out of his body. And Jisung doesn’t stop, grinding himself onto Minho rhythmically, breathing little gasps into Minho’s mouth. But then a second pair of soft hands find his body, sliding under his t-shirt and when your lips attach to his neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin, he wonders what he did in his previous life that allowed him to experience this level of pleasure.

Jisung pulls away and Minho blearily blinks his eyes open.

“You okay, baby?” Jisung asks him gently, and Minho lets his lips pull into a dazed smile and nods. You pull back from his neck and caress Minho’s hair softly.

“So fucking good, fuck” he slurs out. “But ‘m so hard.”

“I can feel that,” Jisung giggles and grinds his ass down one more time, making Minho gasp.

You let your nails drag over his scalp and lean in so your breath fans over Minho’s ear, making Minho's lead loll over over to you, eyes closed in bliss.

“You wanna fuck me, sweet boy?” you purr out, and Minho nods desperately. The thought of your slick heat wrapped around his cock makes his mouth go dry. If it feels a fraction as good as it did around his fingers, he knows he won’t last, not when he’s this turned on. But you could ask him to hump a pillow right now, and he’d do it, no questions asked. God, he’s so whipped.

“Want you so bad,” he mumbles and leans in to press his lips to yours again. It’s messy, all tongue and teeth, nothing like his usual controlled kisses, but he loves it. He feels Jisung gently unwind himself from him. Jisung moves behind him on the sofa and starts to slowly guide Minho to crawl over you again, and Minho lets him do it without even thinking, accepting Jisung’s guidance like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your warm hands find the hem of his shirt, and he lets you pull it over his head. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Jisung do the same, before he can feel him kneel behind him.

In front of him, you tug your own shirt over your head and unclasp your bra, and Minho is watching you with wide eyes as you expose more and more of your satiny skin to him. When your tits fall loose from their confines, he groans and stares.

“Can I?” He asks breathlessly, and you nod, and then he gently takes your tits in his hands, wrapping his lips around your nipples. It’s so different from anything he has ever felt before, the skin so much softer and plumper, nipples as sensitive as Jisung’s, but so different.

But before he can puzzle it out, he feels Jisung’s warm body wrap around his from behind, his hands splaying over Minho’s chest, caressing the skin there. The comfort of Jisung’s warm body mixes with the thrill of not being able to see him and being entirely at his mercy. Jisung’s hands wander down and slip into his sweats and one of them wraps around his cock and Minho moans into your tits.

“Fuck, Min, you’re so fucking hard,” Jisung hisses out as he starts stroking him slowly and with just the right amount of pressure.

Minho can’t do anything except nod, sucking on your nipples sloppily as the pleasure of Jisung’s hand gets almost too much. When Jisung presses his body against Minho’s, Minho can feel Jisung’s bare cock press against his ass, and he grinds himself into it almost automatically. Jisung chuckles.

“You wanna fuck her now? You think you deserve to? Have you been a good boy?” Jisung rasps out and the fuzziness is back.

“Been so good,” Minho mumbles out against your tits, unable to push himself up enough while Jisung is working up to his peak embarrassingly fast.

“Yeah?” Jisung asks, breathlessly. “How good?”

“So good, right? Been … oh God you need to stop, stop,” he almost yells and Jisung pulls his hand out of his sweats. When Minho turns his head, Jisung is grinning down at him devilishly, fire in his eyes.

“I think you have been very good,” he says teasingly, and then he’s pulling Minho up and shucking his sweats down his legs, instructing him to lift his knees, so he can pull them off the rest of the way. Minho still follows his instructions blindly, too overwhelmed for anything else. But he trusts you, he trusts Jisung.

With his hips and his own hard cock pressing into Minho’s ass and his arm wrapped around Minho’s waist, Jisung leans them forward slightly. Jisung’s one hand reaches for yours, the other wraps tightly around the base of Minho’s cock. He carefully swipes the head of it through your slick and Minho’s response is instant, hips bucking into Jisung’s hand, head falling back onto Jisung’s shoulder.

“Come on, you haven’t even felt her yet,” Jisung mumbles into his ear as he keeps dragging his cock through the slick, before aligning him with your entrance. Jisung looks at you with a lopsided smile, squeezes your hand and guides the head of Minho’s cock into your entrance, using his own hips to push it in slowly.

Minho’s pretty sure that, if it wasn’t for Jisung, his knees would’ve given out. You’re so wet and silky and tight and hot, and you moan out so deliciously when he’s sheathed inside of you – he’s so fucking gone.

Jisung places both of his hands on Minho’s waist and starts rutting Minho into your heat at a pace that has Minho’s toes curling. The wet drag of his cock inside of you, the way your walls are fluttering around him, it’s all so new, and it feels so mind-numbingly good. And then there’s also Jisung, quietly moaning into his ear as his leaking cock drags between Minho’s asscheeks with every thrust.

“I … fuck, I won’t last,” Minho whines out, actual tears prickling in his eyes, partly because it feels so good and partly because he’s so fucking embarrassed. But you reach out to him, gently pulling him down on top of you, so you can reach his lips, kissing him so hard he sees stars. The angle of his hips is different now, allowing him to hit a spot deep inside of you, and he’s greeted by another wave of wetness flooding his cock in a way he has never felt before. He whimpers into your lips.

“You don’t have to last, just let go for me,” you reassure him between kisses, your hands sliding all over his body as he ruts into you with Jisung’s guiding hands on his hips. Minho’s legs are starting to shake with the intensity of the pleasure, hips jerking with every flutter of your walls, and he whimpers.

“But … you …,” he babbles and you shush him. “We can do this again and again and again, and you can make me cum some other time. Just let go for me now, baby?”

And that’s all it takes before his head drops into your shoulder, and he cums with a deep, ringing moan. His vision almost whites out, his whole body tingling as he pathetically ruts his cum deeper and deeper inside of you.

When he’s spent, he can feel Jisung gently tug him backwards, and he slips out of you. He rolls himself off the sofa and onto the plush carpet, where he stays, staring at the ceiling as he wills his heart rate down to a normal speed.

But it’s hard when he has a front-row seat to Jisung lunging at you, shoving his tongue into your mouth messily.

“Oh, baby, baby, baby, can I … hnng can I please … can I put it in? Need it so bad,” he’s blubbering into your mouth, and you chuckle.

“God, please, fuck me, Ji,” you sigh into his mouth and Minho can hear the desperation in your voice. His dick twitches where it’s lying on his abdomen.

And then Jisung pushes himself into you in one fell swoop, both of you moaning wantonly as he bottoms out. Jisung ruts into a few times, and there’s a loud squelch that accompanies his movements.

“Oh, oooh,” he stops and whimpers out. “It’s so wet from Min’s cum. So fucking wet and perfect, oh god, I wouldn’t have lasted either.”

You chuckle breathlessly as your fingers dig into Jisung’s ass.

“Jisungie, please, move,” you urge him needily, and Jisung doesn’t need to be told twice. His movements are unforgiving and desperate, his pretty little hips snapping into you at an ungodly pace. Minho had never seen Jisung fucking someone before and his mouth runs dry at just how fucking gorgeous he is. He has the same fucked out expression he usually has, all teary eyes and tongue peaking out of his plump lips, but his brows are also furrowed in concentration as he fucks you deep and hard

One of your hands comes to the armrest of the sofa for support while Jisung rails you, and Jisung covers it with his, the contact so intimate and gentle compared to his frantic movements.

Minho watches as you rut your hips to meet Jisung’s, watches as your legs start to shake, watches as Jisung leans down and kisses you breathless, bringing his free hand down to your clit, rubbing tight circles until your head falls back in a silent moan and your hips jerk desperately as you cum around Jisung, who swiftly follows you over the edge, moaning like a pornstar as he pumps you full.

Jisung collapses on top of you with a happy giggle, pressing loud kisses to your cheek. Then he rolls himself off the sofa, nearly crushing Minho underneath him in the process, making Minho yell out in annoyance.

But Jisung just giggles and throws an arm around his waist, nuzzling his face into Minho’s shoulder. You get up with a soft chuckle, before joining the two of them on the floor. You cuddle into Minho’s other side with a happy sigh, arm coming to rest over Jisung’s.

“That was fucking insane,” Jisung mumbles out, eyes already threatening to close. “You did so well for us, Min.”

Minho’s cheeks burn at the praise, and not just with embarrassment.

You nod quietly and lock eyes with Minho, who’s already staring down at you, blinking rapidly as he seems to try to find the words, before he finally does.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

You just smile at him and press a soft kiss to his lips.

“Anytime. I’m yours.”

skzms' masterlist

🔖 general taglist: follow and turn on notifications for my library account: @skzms-library 🔞 I monitor ages over there, just like I used to do with my taglist. I will block minors and ageless blogs, and you'll have to message me again to get unblocked. so just have your age in your bio before you follow!