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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡?

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐢𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡? | 𝐌𝐘𝐆 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐔 (𝐌) pairings: producer!min yoongi x popgirlie f!reader genre: romance, smut, slight porn with plot, friends to lovers au word count: 6K beta read by @chaoticpuff17 (ily)

prompt: "There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out." summary: "You Big Enough?" - when an old flame resurfaced, rumours spiralled, and suddenly, every lingering glance and every touch between you seemed to carry weight. It had always been just music, just friendship—hadn’t it? No. You always had the vibe of  'will they, won't they.' This has become bigger than the music. Tension crackled, boundaries blurred, and there was this thing that Yoongi made sure you knew well besides that he was big enough. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, explicit language, themes of subtle (and not-so-subtle) possessiveness, teasing, sexual activity, rough sex, fingering (f receiving), miscommunication driving emotional conflict, dirty talk, raw fucking (stay safe!) choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes, creampie, fleeting nipple play, very subtle dominance/submission dynamics, implied size kink ... (as per usual, I'll add some if needed)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, sexual activity, sex without protection, choking and spanking as part of intimate scenes.

a/n: yall, I had this idea like a month ago and I wrote the initial part but lowkey forgot that it's in my drafts so I finished it yesterday (might come later to edit, pls excuse me im working overtime these days) and amazing and spectacular @chaoticpuff17 managed to read it so you can have it as a lil Valentine's day treat. So here is something simple, smutty, and cute for ya. Happy Valentine to all of you who celebrate, love you my little fairies! ♥

masterlist

Your hands hovered above the keys and your brain could not figure out what to press to make it sound as magical as you want. Your mind searched for the perfect melody for the bridge of her latest song—

"Try F-sharp minor," Yoongi suggested, his voice low and even. The studio is a second home for you. Always have been and dear Min Yoongi was as much a refuge as the soundproof walls and softly humming equipment.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"Perfect—" There was a warmth in his gaze, one that lingered a second too long.

"How do you always know, Yoongi-ah?"

"It's my job," he said simply, but the corners of his mouth quirked up. Your heart fluttered with a familiar yet unwelcome sensation. But you quickly shook it off, focusing on the music in front of her.

"I'm lucky to have you, then," you murmured.

Yoongi didn't respond immediately, and when he did, his voice was quieter than before.

"I'd say I'm the lucky one."

Before you could process what he meant, your phone buzzed, breaking the spell. You picked it up, seeing a message from your lifelong bestie, Jimin-ah.

Emergency. Coming over.

You frown but you are happy to not indulge in something you don't have the answers to. "Jimin-ah is on his way. Guess I'll have to call it a night."

Yoongi's expression was unreadable, but he nodded, knowing that it must be something important if you’re packing your stuff so quickly. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"You need to fucking hear this," he says, her voice brimming with urgency when he bursts into the apartment like a whirlwind, his dark glossy hair bouncing as he flops onto the couch.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon?"

You hand him a glass of red wine and sit across from him.

"What now? Did he suddenly reappear after he ghosted me?"

Jimin winces.

"Actually, yeah. And I finally found out why he did so."

Your stomach drops. You liked that man when you went out, but the message you left a good amount of time ago went unanswered for an even longer period of time.

"Why?"

He hesitates, his eyes darting around the room. Finally, he leans forward, lowering his voice. "Everyone thinks you and Yoongi are… you know."

You blink.

"What?" you say, playing dumb.

"You knooowww…—

"—that."

He said through gritted teeth, trying to make you understand, but your brain was not cooperating.

"No, I dooooon't know that" You mimicked him, and he only stared dead serious at your stupidity.

"They think you've been doing it," he says bluntly. "Apparently, it's some open secret in the industry. Like, 'Oh, Y/N and Yoongi? Of course, they're a thing.'"

Your jaw drops. No way. No fucking way.

"That's insane. We're not… we're not like that."

"You sure about that buttercup?" Jimin raises an eyebrow and you merely nod.

"Cuz', he's not exactly denying it. And honestly, can you blame people for assuming? You've written two albums together, spent countless hours locked in the studio, and the way he looks at you…" he trails off, shaking his head.

"There is just no way you two did not fuck each other's brains out."

Your cheeks burn.

"That's ridiculous. Yoongi and I are friends. Just friends."

"Hmm, I don't know hun,—"

He was right. You weren't buying it. Not entirely.

But you weren't ready to admit that out loud—not yet, anyway. Your mind races. You replay every moment you've spent together, every lingering glance and fleeting touch.

Yoongi and you?

It was absurd, wasn't it?

Right?

Jimin watched you carefully, his perfectly shaped brows raised in amusement. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"No," you scoffed, but your voice lacked conviction.

Jimin smirked, leaning back against the couch. "Look, babe, I wouldn't bring this up if I didn't think it was something you should actually think about. People don't just make this kind of shit up for no reason."

You sighed, rubbing your temples. "I just—why wouldn't he deny it?"

"That's what you need to figure out." Jimin gave you a pointed look. "You trust him, don't you?"

You hesitated. That was the problem, wasn't it? You trusted Yoongi more than anyone. He had been your anchor in the storm, your safe space when everything else felt uncertain.

But this—this was different.

The way he looked at you.

The way he always knew exactly what you needed.

You replayed every moment with Yoongi in your mind, combing through the memories with a fine-toothed scepticism, looking for anything—anything—that could have fed these rumours. The way he watched you while you worked in the dance studio, the quiet way he always made sure you had water before long sessions, the casual intimacy in the way he touched you—light, fleeting, like a habit neither of you had ever questioned.

Had you been blind this whole time?

Jimin's voice snapped you back to reality.

"Look, I think you need to talk to him. Like, actually talk to him."

You swallowed hard.

Talking to Min Yoongi had never been difficult before. But this? This felt dangerous.

The next evening, you stepped into the dimly lit studio, and the question sat on the tip of your tongue like a loaded gun.

Yoongi was already there, as always. The warm amber glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across his sharp features, catching on the soft strands of dark hair that fell over his eyes. His fingers rested idly on the soundboard, a picture of quiet focus—until he looked up at you.

His gaze, steady and unreadable, held you captive.

"You're late," he murmured, but there was no accusation in his tone—just that familiar, quiet warmth.

You swallowed. "Got caught up with Jimin last night, forgot to set a reminder."

At that, something flickered across his face—too quick to name, gone before you could hold onto it. "Ah."

Silence stretched between you, thick with something you weren't ready to name. But you hadn't come here to tiptoe around things anymore.

So you stepped forward, pressing a hand against the cool surface of the mixing console, grounding yourself, only now taking his appearance in.

"I played with the structure a little last night after you went home and—" he broke the silence first, but you knew he sensed the sudden awkwardness in your posture, your whole being.

"Is something the matter, sleepyhead?"

"Nope, nothing at all."

You quickly retorted, trying to look anywhere else but his gorgeous face.

Yoongi's eyes, however, never wavered. They held a depth that made it impossible for you to escape his gaze. You had always known how intense he could be, but now, in the stillness of the studio, it felt almost intimate, the air thick with unspoken words that seemed to pulse around you like a melody begging to be heard.

He leaned forward slightly, his hands resting casually on the desk, but his posture was all focus—intent, almost as if he was waiting for you to unravel yourself.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice was lower now, a gentle challenge. He was pulling at the thread, testing the tension between you.

Your stomach twisted. This was the moment, wasn't it?

"I'm fine, Yoongi, just had a lot of wine last night," you said again, but your voice betrayed you. It cracked, ever so slightly, and you couldn't mask the uncertainty in it.

The silence between you thickened, and it felt like the space in the room had shrunk, until it was just you, him, and the suffocating pressure of the question you both knew was lingering.

He didn't look away, not even when you avoided his gaze, staring down at the soundboard like it could offer you some kind of escape. He moved to the electronic piano while lifting a brow at you.

"So as I said, I played with the structure—"

You watched him, leaning at the piano, his fingers poised just above the keys, waiting for him to break the silence again, to give you something more. But you didn't want more from him—not in the way you wanted it. Not yet.

Instead, you played a dangerous game, one of subtle manipulation, testing him, probing for the truth behind his unreadable expressions.

"You remember Seo Kang-joon, right?" You interrupt him, raising your voice just a little.

The name hung in the air between you, deliberately chosen, carefully placed like a baited hook.

Yoongi's fingers stilled for the briefest of moments. But it was enough. Just enough for you to notice. His posture shifted ever so slightly, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly.

You bit back a smile, inwardly satisfied at his subtle reaction.

"I bumped into him yesterday on my way home. He... he actually asked me out on a date again. Said he lost his phone and had to get a new phone number, didn't remember mine."

A lie.

The words left your mouth so easily, like a lie you had rehearsed in front of the mirror, and yet your heart pounded with anticipation. You weren't expecting much. Just a flicker of jealousy, a crack in the calm façade he always wore. So your interrogation of his, perhaps, hidden feelings isn't unprovoked.

Yoongi didn't immediately respond. His fingers finally touched the keys, the faintest chord ringing through the room, but his eyes remained fixed on the piano.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the soft melody playing between you, the rhythm of his fingers meeting the ivories almost too steady.

And then, finally, he spoke. His voice was low, flat. "Is that so?"

Your breath caught. That was it?

You frowned, staring at him from across the room, searching for a reaction. Anything. But his expression was as controlled as ever. His calm demeanour was unshakable.

No way.

You leaned forward, the pressure of the lie beginning to claw at your insides. "Yeah, he asked me. He was actually pretty... persistent about it. He was sorry I thought he ghosted me." You let the words hang, trailing off deliberately, watching his reaction closely.

But Yoongi only nodded, his eyes focused on the keys.

"I see."

A small flame of frustration ignited in your chest. Was he really this indifferent? Was he truly going to let this lie slide without a hint of a reaction?

You stood up abruptly, unable to hold the pretense any longer. You could feel your temper rising, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

"You fucking see?!" Yoongi's fingers paused mid-chord as the tension in your voice snapped through the room. You busted out your feelings. Well, this was doomed from the start.

You stepped forward, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and something else—something raw that you hadn't been prepared to face. "You don't even care, do you? You don't care that everyone is saying we're fucking, that they think we're—" You cut yourself off, almost choking on the words. You couldn't bear to say them aloud, but you needed to know, needed to push him.

His gaze met yours, and in that instant, you knew he hadn't been indifferent. He'd been waiting. Waiting for you to unravel yourself, for you to show your cards. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned you in place.

"Is that what you wanted to hear?" His voice was cold now, controlled, with an edge that made your skin prickle. The air in the room thickened, turning heavy with the weight of his words.

"Well, perchance?!—" You gesture rapidly.

"You run around not denying it Yoongi,—?!"

The calm, controlled exterior he wore was unravelling, and you weren't sure if you liked the version of him that was emerging—or if it terrified you.

He stood up, slowly, deliberately. The sudden motion caused a cold shiver to run down your spine. He didn't step towards you, but the space between you both seemed to shrink in the way he carried himself—every step deliberate, every movement measured.

"Why do you care so much?" His voice was low, almost detached, but there was a certain sharpness to it now. It was the tone he used when he was dangerously close to losing control, but for now, he still kept it in check. "What's so important about what they think?"

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words tangled in your throat. You had been so sure of your reasoning—so certain of the way you wanted him to react—but now that he was giving you exactly what you wanted, you realized just how hollow that satisfaction felt.

"I dunno Yoongi—maybe because men ghosted me—maybe because you just might be the reason I had a dry season— or maybe you're that kind of motherfucker—"

Yoongi let out a sharp breath, a dry laugh escaping him as he shook his head. You elevated this to a different level now. "A motherfucker?" He repeated his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "That's what we're doing now?"

You were too far gone to stop. The frustration, the pent-up emotions, the sheer nerve of him sitting there, all unbothered while you spiralled—it cracked something open inside you.

"Yes, Yoongi! A motherfucker! What else do you call a guy who lets rumours fly like this and doesn't even care?" Your hands gestured wildly as your voice grew more frantic.

"You don't deny it, you don't address it, you just exist in this limbo, letting people think we're screwing while I sit here looking like a desperate idiot who cannot get a hold of her man—"

His jaw clenched, his patience visibly wearing thin. "So what if I don't deny it?" He stepped closer, voice a fraction lower now, dangerously quiet. "What if I don't care what they think? What if I like the way it sounds?"

Your breath hitched.

Your mouth opened, but nothing came out. Your entire argument, the whole reason you'd brought this up, suddenly felt shaky, flimsy, like a house of cards collapsing under the weight of his words.

Yoongi watched you, his eyes dark and unreadable, waiting for you to process what he had just admitted.

Finally, your voice came out in a whisper, hoarse and unsure.

"The fuck, Yoongi?"

"I don't deny it," he said again, slower this time. His head tilted slightly, studying you. "Because it's not entirely wrong."

A rush of heat flooded through you—anger, shock, confusion, something else, something deeper and more dangerous. "Not… entirely… wrong?" You echoed, blinking at him. "Are you—are you actually fucking insane?"

Yoongi exhaled sharply, like he was just as frustrated as you were, like you were the one being difficult. "Y/N—"

"No," you cut him off, pointing a finger at him. "No, you don't get to just drop that and act like it's nothing."

"I'm not acting like it's nothing," he countered, his voice still calm, still infuriatingly composed. "You wanted to know why I never denied it? That's why."

"You can't be fucking serious right now, you fuck—" his body in your proximity startled you, but you let him pin you to the wall next to the mixing desk.

His hands caged you in, palms pressing against the wall on either side of your head. You felt the sharp inhale of his breath, the slow exhale, the tension buzzing between you like a live wire.

"You don't get it, do you?" His voice was quiet but razor-edged, his eyes dark and unwavering. "You've been running in circles trying to make me jealous, trying to get a reaction—" his gaze flicked down to your lips for just a second before meeting your eyes again, "pushing me like you want me to snap."

You listened. For once.

"You sat in that fucking booth with only your panties under that big shirt—"

"My fucking shirt—"

"My fucking shirt," he repeated, voice rough. "And you think I wouldn't become possessive? Think I didn't see the way you stretched in it, how you leaned in close, pretending like you didn't know exactly what you were doing?"

Your breath hitched. You did not realize he saw you this way.

You swallowed, trying to find solid ground beneath the sudden energy shift, but Yoongi wasn't giving you the chance.

"You wanted me to react?" His eyes burned into yours. "You wanted this?"

The heat between you became unbearable.

"I—" You started, but you had no words.

Because now, finally, Yoongi wasn't holding back.

And neither were you.

Your pulse hammered in your throat as his words sank in, wrapping around your ribs, tightening like a snare. You had been waiting—aching—for a reaction, pushing buttons you hadn't even fully understood yourself. But now? Now, Yoongi was looking at you like he had already decided.

His breath was warm against your cheek, the space between you non-existent.

"Say it," he murmured.

You licked your lips, the movement not lost on him. "Say what?"

Yoongi let out a short, dark chuckle. "That you like it. That you like this—the way I look at you, the way I see you."

Your stomach flipped.

"You're so full of shit," you whispered, but there was no weight behind it but pure provocation.

His fingers twitched against the wall before he exhaled sharply and leaned in, just enough for your breaths to tangle.

"And you'll be full of me."

"You big enough?" 

Oh, that did it.

A sharp, involuntary gasp left his lips and your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up. The air between you turned electric, charged with something too dangerous to name.

Yoongi's gaze darkened, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as if savouring the way your breath hitched when he looked at you that way. He bit down his lower lip before he spoke again, laying his palms on the flat surface of the table in front of the piano that lay on it–

"There are two possibilities happening between us—" He tilted his head slightly, gaze never wavering from yours, his voice a low rasp against your skin.

"One—we make this official,—" He said it like it was inevitable, like it was a fact written in stone. "No more rumours, no more bullshit. No one else but us. Just you and me."

Your breath stuttered, your heart slamming against your ribs.

"And the second?" you whispered, barely able to form the words.

Yoongi smirked, slow and sinful, his fingers twitching against the wall before he leaned in, his mouth a breath away from yours.

"I keep writing my songs, keep filling my verses with filth about how I would fuck you good and hard—until you finally beg me to bury my cock in your cunt."

“And people will hear you’re mine—”

Your entire body went hot. Yoongi's smirk widened, watching the way your breath stuttered, your pupils blown wide. He tilted his head, gaze flicking down to your parted lips, his voice dropping even lower. Your thighs clenched a traitorous reaction that made his smirk turn predatory.

"You—"

"That's the difference between them and me, baby." His fingers ghosted over your waist, light enough to make you shiver. "They just talk. I fucking deliver."

You swallowed hard, your pulse thrumming so violently it was a wonder you were still standing.

"You're so—"

"What?" Yoongi pressed in closer, his nose brushing against yours. "Say it."

You had no idea what you were going to say.

But when his fingers finally curled around your hip, pulling you flush against him, the words you should say, the ones that would stop this before it went too far—before you gave in—died in your throat.

"Fucking thought so." He smirked again. That smirk. That fucking smirk.

It did something to you, something dangerous, something you weren't sure you could control. It made you want to wipe it off his face—maybe with a slap, maybe with your mouth.

Yoongi knew it, too.

He leaned in just a fraction closer, his breath hot against your cheek, his grip tightening on your hip as if daring you to push him away.

You didn't.

"See?" His voice was silk and smoke, smooth but lethal. "You love this. You love the way I get under your skin. The way I make you feel."

Your nails dug into your palms. "You don't know shit about what I feel."

Yoongi chuckled, low and rough. "Don't I?"

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path down your side, stopping just shy of indecency but still making you shudder.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured. "Tell me you don't want this, and I will."

It was the worst thing he could've said. Because the truth—the one you refused to admit even to yourself—was that you didn't want him to stop. Ever. You were so fucking needy to be touched after you got to know that your dried spell had a sorcerer and it was him. So technically now, he should be the one breaking it. And he knew it.

Your silence was all the confirmation he needed to press his lips against your neck.

His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping your waist, sliding up your thighs, spreading you open like he had every right to.

"You think I'm going to let you run your mouth, push me to the edge, and not do something about it?" His voice was a rasp, thick with hunger. "You think I don't see how badly you want this?"

Your breath hitched as his thigh pressed between yours, the friction making your knees buckle. His mouth found your jaw, teeth scraping over sensitive skin before he kissed a path down your throat, sucking, biting, claiming.

You barely had time to think before he gripped your wrist, guiding your hand down—down—until your fingers brushed against him, hard and thick beneath his sweats. The sound that tore from his throat was pure sin.

"Feel that?" Yoongi growled, grinding against your palm. "That's what you do to me. That's what you fucking cause each time we're in this studio."

Your fingers flexed, a teasing squeeze that had his breath stuttering. He cursed under his breath, tilting your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze.

Dark. Devouring. Desperate.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured again, a cruel echo of earlier. But this time, there was no space between you, no restraint.

And you didn't.

Instead, you yanked his mouth to yours. Yoongi groaned into the kiss, the sound reverberating through you as his hands pushed under your shirt, fingers trailing over bare skin, leaving fire in their wake.

Your nails raked down his back as he lifted you effortlessly, pressing you harder against the wall.

His hips rolled, slow and devastating, and a moan ripped from your throat, shameless, wrecked.

"That's it, baby" he rasped, his forehead against yours, breath heavy. "That's the sound I've been waiting for."

His hand dipped lower, slipping past the band of your shorts, finding you soaked for him. Yoongi cursed, his fingers teasing, circling, before sliding through the wetness with devastating precision.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice hoarse. "You're already so fucking ready for me."

You didn't even get a chance to respond before he pushed a finger inside, then another, stretching you, filling you, working you open until you were trembling against him.

"Yoongi—"

"I know," he hushed you, his lips brushing against your ear, his fingers moving faster, deeper. "I've got you, baby. Just take it."

And fuck, you did. You took everything he gave, your body writhing against his as pleasure built sharp and unbearable, spiralling higher, tightening—

"Come for me," he ordered, his voice dark, commanding. "Come on my fingers like the desperate little thing I know you are."

And when he curled his fingers just right, his thumb pressing where you needed it most—

You shattered.

Completely. Utterly.

Yoongi swallowed your cry with his mouth, dragging it out, his hand still moving, still milking every last bit of pleasure from you until you were shaking in his arms.

Then, as you barely caught your breath, his voice came again, low and teasing.

"Now," he murmured, undoing the string of his sweats, letting them fall.

"I'll fuck you hard that you'll forget about those smutty books you're reading—"

Your body barely had time to recover before Yoongi was pressing closer, his fingers sliding away, leaving you aching and empty. But then—then—his hands were on your hips, tugging your shorts down, peeling them away with agonizing slowness, like he wanted you to feel every second of it.

Your breath stuttered as he stepped back just enough to look at you, his dark gaze trailing over your bare, trembling form.

"Fucking perfect," he muttered, almost to himself, before his hands gripped your thighs and lifted you, forcing your legs around his waist.

The weight of him, the sheer heat of him, pressed right against your core, had you gasping, fingers digging into his shoulders. Yoongi groaned low in his throat, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel all of him, hard and thick and ready.

"Ain’t big enough, huh?" he murmured, dragging his clothed crotch against your soaked heat. His voice was rough, strained. "I’ll show you how big I am."

Your nails bit into his skin, your body writhing against him as he kept teasing, kept torturing you with slow, precise movements. The friction had you panting, your forehead falling against his.

"Stop teasing," you managed, barely above a breath.

Yoongi chuckled, dark and knowing. "Look at you. So desperate for me already." His fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. "Tell me how much you want it."

You let out a sound between a whimper and a growl, rolling your hips against him in a silent plea. But that wasn't enough for him. Your heart racing, you felt his warm palm connect with your skin, a stinging sensation spreading through your buttocks as he spanked you. You let out a small yelp, but Yoongi didn't relent, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"Say it." His voice was like gravel, low and demanding. "Say you want me to fuck you, Y/N. Say you need me." He pulled down his sweats enough so his cock sprang free from the confinement.

Your pride clashed with your need, the battle waging for only a moment before he rolled his hips again, pressing the thick head of his cock right against your entrance—and your resolve snapped.

"Fuck—I need you," you gasped, your fingers twisting into his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan. "Please, Yoongi—just fuck me."

Something broke in him then.

With a guttural sound, he aligned himself and pushed inside, the stretch of him stealing the air from your lungs. He didn't stop, didn't hesitate—just drove forward, sinking deep until he was fully sheathed inside you until there was no space between you, nothing left but the overwhelming, consuming feel of him.

"Fuck," Yoongi gritted out, his forehead dropping to yours. His hands flexed against your thighs like he was trying to hold himself back, to give you a moment. "So fucking tight."

You could barely breathe, barely think, pleasure and pain and something deeper rolling through you in waves. But then he shifted, just slightly, and—

"Oh fuck," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall.

Yoongi's grip tightened, his breath hot against your skin. "Yeah?" He rolled his hips again, slow and deliberate, dragging himself out before thrusting back in, harder this time. Your moan was wrecked, broken—exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me," he murmured, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, across your collarbone. "Taking me so fucking well."

Then he moved. Snapping his hips as hard as he could to make your back rub against the wall, to make your head spin from the bouncing on his thick cock that made you see so many constellations. Up and down, up and down. He felt so good inside you, filling you completely as his hips slammed against yours.

The force of his thrust made you cry out, your fingers tangled in his dark raven hair, which you so openly adored when he kept longer. His mouth crashed down on yours, swallowing your moans as he drove into you with a fierce intensity, each stroke building on the last.

His hand cupped your breast and his thumb brushed over your nipple. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the fierce way he was driving into you. Your back arched, pushing your breast further into his hand, and you felt his fingers close around it, squeezing softly. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you moaned loudly, the sound lost in the kiss that still claimed your mouth. Yoongi's hips kept moving, each thrust building on the last, and his hand on your breast seemed to be pulling you closer to some unseen edge. His fingers tightened around your nipple, rolling it between them, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of something explosive.

Yoongi groaned, his grip almost bruising now, his thrusts turning erratic. "You gonna come for me again?" he rasped, his hips thrusting into you harder, each one was met with your breath hitching in your throat before you moaned. Loud.

"Gonna fall apart on my cock?"

It was too much—too good.

"I know what you want, love. What will make you cum around my cock."

Your body began to tense, your muscles coiling tighter and tighter as he spoke. "You want it rough," he growled, his thrusts becoming more savage, more primal.

"You want me to take you apart, piece by piece." His grip on your breast tightened, his fingers digging deep into your skin, and you felt yourself spiralling out of control.

His hand left your breast to envelope around your throat, his fingers wrapping tightly around your neck, his thumb pressing against the underside of your jaw. That was it. Your moans got even louder and he raised a brow. You felt a flutter in your chest as his grip tightened, his eyes burning with an intense hunger as he gazed into yours and he slowed down to observe your face that certainly did not hide any pleasure.

"Kinky," he rasped, his voice low and dirty. "So fucking kinky."

He held you in place, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, he began to move his hips again, his cock stirring back to life inside you. His eyes burned with an intense desire, and you could feel the tension building in his body as he drove into you with slow, deliberate strokes.

"I'm going to fill you up, babe" he growled, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to make you take every last drop of me." And with that, he began to thrust into you harder again, faster again, his hips pounding against yours as he chased your release. You felt him swelling inside you, his cock growing thicker and hotter as he approached the edge.

Your orgasm crashed into you, and you could not even stop it. You wanted this to last until your body shuts down from all that pleasure he has given you. Your body locking up as pleasure burns through every nerve ending. You clenched around him, drawing a strangled moan from his lips, his hips snapping forward one last time before he broke. His release spilt deep inside you as he let out a low, guttural groan, his semen erupting into you in a hot, pulsing flood that warmed your walls. You felt him shudder and convulse above you, his body trembling with pleasure as he emptied himself into your waiting flesh

The sensation was overwhelming, the feeling of being filled and claimed by him almost too much to bear. His chest heaving with exertion and for a moment, neither of you moved.

"You're so fucking mine," he murmured, voice still thick with satisfaction. He lifted his head to meet your lips once more before he said.

"Don't you ever question my devotion for you—" he started, panting after the little stunt you just pulled. 

“—Or the size of my cock, doll.” 

You only smiled wickedly into his lips. 

“You like us role-playing, tho—“ you started. Yoongi's grip on your waist tightened, his lips brushing over your collarbone as his breath warmed your skin. His hand slid lower, fingers tracing the curve of your body possessively. 

"He could not stop talking about it the whole fucking night, babe."

"Who, Jimin?" he asked, his tone dripping with amusement, yet there was an underlying tension in it, like he was trying to keep himself in check to not turn you over and fuck you in the ass. Even though he had to thank Jimin for this fuck prompt he unknowingly gave you an idea of (such a mundane trope) and the final ride you two just had. The thanking will wait until whenever you decide you want Jimin to know about you two.

Of course, something similar happened at the start of your relationship and you could not help yourself to let him fuck you against that wall once again. This time with a similar scenario but slightly adjusted replicas.

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh, though it was edged with a hint of frustration. You shifted under his touch, your heart still racing from the intensity of the night.

"Yeah. Couldn't stop about how people talk about us fucking our brains out here—"

"But we are—" his voice thick with the weight of his meaning, but his tone now softer than before. His mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just below your ear, and his hands pulled you closer, if that was even possible, as if to remind you of just how much he could claim you again and again and again.

You gasped, your body reacting to him in ways you couldn't control, and you felt a rush of vulnerability, knowing how deeply he could read you. "Yoongi," you breathed, trying to keep your composure, but he wasn't making it easy.

"Yeah, you can say that again," Yoongi whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before his teeth grazed the lobe, making your entire body shudder.

You swallowed hard, your head spinning. "I'm serious," you managed to say, even though your voice came out shaky. "Jimin—he thinks I'm still under that dry spell cuz' everybody thinks we're doing it—"

"Let him yap, love."

"Yeah I would, but he went to a point where he talked about how I'm gonna need to buy that Tesla robot to fuck me cuz' no living man will, thanks to you and your not-so-subtle hints that we're doing it—"

"My not-so-subtle hints?" He chuckled.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, feeling a mixture of amusement and frustration. "I mean, he was kinda making some good points," you teased, pretending to think it over. "We do have that whole 'will they, won't they' vibe going on."

Yoongi's fingers paused against your skin for a moment, as if he were considering your words, but then a slow, mischievous smirk crept onto his lips.

"What do you think, babe?"

"I—I think," you stammered, feeling the weight of the moment sink in, "I think we could've been doing a better damn good job of hiding it. But maybe—" You hesitated, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

"Maybe it's time we stop pretending."

"Well, next time Jimin mentions our 'vibe,' I'm making him listen to a few of our 'studio sessions.'"

Your eyes widened in mock horror. "Yoongi!" You gave him a dramatic shiver, and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you.

"Exactly," Yoongi said, smirking mischievously. "That'll shut him up real quick."

"Good luck," you teased, tapping his chest lightly. "Maybe he'll start talking about how lucky you are to have me in your corner."

"Lucky, huh?" he mused, pulling you in for a hug. "You're damn right I'm lucky."

You grinned, enjoying the easy banter, letting the tension slip away as you let him hold you. It wasn't about proving anything to anyone—it was just the two of you, sharing this moment, enjoying each other's company and, of course, having a little fun at Jimin's expense.

"Wait—" you just realised.

"You know about my smutty books?!"

He threw his head back and gave a loud throat laugh in response.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

[ficwin]

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[thewinter-eden]

Upcoming Posts

FIND SEQUEL INFO HERE

ALL FIRST PARTS COMPLETE

Crack!Horror SKZ Series :

One shots. Dark comedies with gritty themes, satirical humor, and happy endings. These are meant to be STUPID and FUNNY, not imperative literature. Light or suggested romance, sfw. I don’t condone any of these behaviors btw.

Bang Chan - read it HERE

You Live Like This? - home invader!Chris breaks into your home one night to rob you blind, only to realize you’re too poor to rob. Fear, threats against your life, light violence (no harm), concerned Chan, terrified but exhausted reader, Netflix.

Lee Know - read it HERE

That Your Man? - mugger!Minho holds you and your bf up in a dark alley one night, ready to give you the old ‘your money or your life’ routine, but when your bf pushes you into the line of fire so he can run away, Minho has second thoughts. Fear, Minho has a gun, attempted mugging (obv), asshole bf, coffee.

Seo Changbin - read it HERE

Blink Twice if You Need Help - stalker!Changbin has been following you for weeks. He’s looking for his next target, and he’s obsessed with you. While he’s watching you, however, he learns the secret you keep—you’re being routinely robbed by your addict brother. After watching this cycle of abuse end with you crying almost every night, Changbin takes pity. Familial abuse, drug addict brother, Changbin’s a repeat offender, satirical but definitive death of character, chai latte.

Hwang Hyunjin - read it HERE

Don’t Look At Me Like That - hitman!Hyunjin’s next target is you, the child of a foreign diplomat. But when he shows up to do the job and finds you ambivalent to the threat upon your life, he can’t help but ask what the hell is wrong with you. Terminal illness, asshole family, political enemies, death of minor character, kidnapping.

Han Jisung - read it HERE

You Called? - demon!Jisung is summoned by your friends during a drunken college party. They’re trying to scare you, pretend to summon a demon and then lock you in the basement until they decide to let you out, but then the demon actually comes, but he thinks your friends are jerks. Fear/comfort, edgy but soft Jisung, terrorizing of minor characters, truth or dare.

Lee Felix - read it HERE

All Ye Who Enter Here - ghost!Felix is said to haunt the abandoned mansion at the end of Blacktree Road. Legend says all who go into the mansion are never seen again. When you decide you’re sick of your friends being afraid of a literal house, you rise to the challenge and go inside. Spoiler alert, Felix is real, and he can’t believe you’re dumb enough to walk into a haunted house. Hauntings, killings, creepy Felix, light tormenting (no reader harm), tea party.

Kim Seungmin - read it HERE

Damn Puppy Dog Eyes - werewolf!Seungmin saves your life from a pack, inadvertently earning your unwavering loyalty, even though he’s just as much a killer as they were. Sometimes he can’t decide if he wants to wrap you up in bubble wrap to save you from your own idiotic self or dump your annoying ass back where he found you. Fear, attempted murder, werewolves hunting humans, reader makes dumb decisions, Seungmin’s gonna pull his own hair out, cuddles.

Yang Jeongin - read it HERE

Do You Need a Straw? - vampire!Jeongin is starving (thirsty?), and your best friend would rather offer you up as his personal capri sun than face her own doom. Jeongin takes the deal, but when he hunts you down, he knows you—you’re his older sister’s best friend, and you don’t take him seriously even for a second. Innie? A vampire? Okay, Edward, if you say so. Killings, blood, threatening, attempted murder, your friend’s an ass, Jeongin’s not good at threatening you, unplanned night swim.

Tell me which ones interest you!

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where maybe a period doesn't actually have to be the end of the sentence. or The Twenty Eighth Installment of the SKZ!Pack Prequel Series.

Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, SKZ!pack, ABO, Omegaverse, Skz!Pack prequel, Pack!prequel, ot8, skz x you, skz x reader, femreader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, lee felix, hwang hyunjin, y/n, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, skz abo, skz fluff, skz angst, skz smut

Genre: Angst, LOTS of Fluff, Suggestive, Light Smut

Warnings: Blood, Periods, Periods, Periods. If you don't like talk of menses, this one probably isn't for you. Period Sex, Blood Play, Blood as Lube, Mentions of Abortion, Unhealthy views of menstrual cycles

Title: End of a Sentence

“You look like shit.”

You barely raise your head from where it rests on your forearms at Hwasa’s observation, hearing the rustle as she slides into the seat beside you at the back of the lecture hall. 

“Yeah, well-” You mutter out, turning your head slightly so you can narrow her in your field of vision, the movement making your headache pound behind one of your eyes. “-I feel like shit.” 

She leans on her elbows on the desk, lowering herself so she can scan her gaze over your face, her dark hair falling over the shoulder of the fluffy faux coat she currently wears. 

A wave of lavender washes over you at the movement.

“What’s going on with you? Pre-rut?” She asks in a lower voice, her dark eyes flicking between your own, full lips pulled into a hint of a worried line. 

You shake your head. “Worse.” She stares at you for a moment, and then you see something akin to regretful acknowledgement flash across her gaze.

She sighs. “Ah, shit.” 

You nod, keeping the movement jilted to stop from worsening your headache. “Yep.” She sits back in her chair, blowing out a breath, the perfect dark eyeliner-reminiscent of cat eyes-framing her lashes wrinkling a little as she narrows her gaze, pursing her lips in thought. 

“I mean, you’re in a pack now, does it help at all?” She finally queries, glancing back over to where you still lay slumped over the desk like some sort of victorian plague victim. 

You groan, pushing yourself up to a somewhat sitting position, and ignore the protests of your body as you do so, the pull of the sharp cramps tightening around your midsection, making your pubic bone ache. 

“I don’t know. I haven’t told them.” 

Hwasa’s gaze sharpens on your own, disapproval washing over her pretty features and leaking into her tone when she speaks. “What? But you guys have been together long enough to have this happen several times now, right?” 

You give a little shrug. “Well, yeah, but I don’t hang around them during that time of the month. I give excuses, and crawl into my bed and die for a week, and then when it’s over, I drag my ass back to life and no one is none the wiser.” 

Hwasa crosses her arms over her chest, sharp, pointed nails ticking across the arms of her coat as she stares at you. 

You feel your hackles rise under her gaze. “What?” 

She sighs, long and heavy, like you’re a disappointing child, and retorts, “You need to tell them. They could help you through it, like a rut. Trust me, it’ll be better for everyone.” 

“It’s gross and personal-” You protest right back, already feeling your cheeks heat at the thought of having to talk to the pack-made up entirely of males-and explain to them why you’re out of commission for a week out of the month. “-they’re not gonna understand.” 

She scoffs at that. “Please, you’re all adults, and if they’re not ready to deal with a little bit of period shit, then they have no right to be in your life in the first place.” 

“It’s easier said than done-” You whine, putting your forehead in your palms and staring at the chipped surface of the desk. Someone has drawn a crude pen rendition of what looks like a penis just below your notebook. 

“(Y/N).” Hwasa says your name sternly, and when you don’t look at her, she leans over and loops her fingers around your wrist, causing you to meet her gaze. She fixes you with a firm look. “They’re in college, I’m sure they’ve had the talk a long time ago and know about female anatomy, okay? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” 

You groan, but she stops you from tugging your gaze away from hers once more. 

“Honey.” She sighs, and her fingers loosen around your wrist a bit, her voice going softer, her expression growing sympathetic. “I know from our time together, and all our years of friendship since, that your ‘time of the month’ if we’re being delicate, is a lot worse than what’s considered normal. So please, just let them in. They might be able to help and it might save you some misery in the long run.” 

You make another little groaning sound, but the headache behind your eyes is pounding and the cramping is only getting worse, so in the end, you acquiesce, at least to just stop talking about it for the moment. 

“Okay.” You sigh and give her the hint of a tight smile. “I’ll talk to them.” 

*****

“They’re getting worse.” You told your mother, standing in front of the bathroom sink, hands braced on the cold tile, staring at your pale reflection in the mirror. 

She had put her hand on your mid back, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’s the change. Presenting always affects women differently and more dramatically than men.” 

“I don’t want it.” You had cried, already doubled over from the cramps, tears streaming down your cheeks. 

It was unfair, cruel even, and in that moment, you’d wanted to disappear, cease to exist, sink into the floor. 

“It’s not a choice.” Your mother whispered, pressing kisses to the top of your head. “Women were chosen to suffer, and it is simply something we must endure. In turn, when you are older, the ability to create life will be yours.” 

You’d thought that sounded awful in the moment, but didn’t say anything, and determined to follow in your mother’s footsteps, suffered in silence. 

*******

It was awful, you decided, to be cursed with such a fate. 

Awful in the fact that you could do nothing but curl in your bed and wait for the pains to subside. 

Awful that blood stained your hands and thighs and the floor of the shower when you stood beneath the stream of the water, wanting to be clean for just one single moment, but denied the pleasure, a constant reminder.

Awful that no one knew, no one wanted to know. 

Awful in the way that he looked at you, like you were some sort of disgusting creature, base and dirty and unworthy. 

Awful, awful, awful. 

It was raining, drops pelting the window, wind howling, when he came to stand in the doorway of your darkened room, dressed to go out. 

Sitting up, you had begged him not to go. 

He had simply waved you off, already pulling on his coat. “I don’t have time to sit around with you while you go through whatever this is. Other girls I’ve been with managed to take care of themselves still, get dressed, accompany me, all while this went on.” His lips curved into a sneer as he stared at you, huddled on the bed, bent over from the agony. “At least shower, for god’s sake, put a little effort into yourself for my sake.” 

He’d gone out, leaving you alone, and you decided at that moment that it was better to suffer alone, than suffer under the scathing gaze of someone else. 

*****

At eighteen, you realized your mother had lied to you. 

She’d told you creating life was a gift, a blessing, given to adults. 

The positive test sitting in the shaking palm of your hand said otherwise, a blatant lie bathed in stark pink lines. 

There wasn’t an option, not now. 

It was raining again, when you took the bus to the clinic by yourself. 

It was raining when you went home, alone. 

Raining when you laid curled up on the bathtub floor. 

Raining, raining, raining. 

Bleeding, bleeding, bleeding. 

Awful, awful, awful. 

******

You’re sitting in your bed, curled up against the wall, heating pad held tightly over your midsection, trying to distract yourself with scrolling on your phone, when there’s a knock at the door. 

Heaving yourself up, groaning slightly as it jostles your body and worsens the agonizing cramping, you practically double over as you walk to the door, reaching for the handle. 

On the other side is Hyunjin, flanked by Felix and Jeongin. 

You straighten a little, surprise flickering across your face as you see the omegas standing in the hall of the alpha dorm like they belong here. 

“Oh. Hey.” You manage to get out, palm splayed flat on the heating pad to keep it in place as you stand, leaning against the door. “What are you guys doing here?” 

Hyunjin gives you the sassiest, most annoyed look you think you’ve seen in awhile. 

“Please, like we were gonna sit and let you suffer alone after all you told us in that message?” He sniffs, looking you up and down. “Not very personable by the way, you couldn’t have told us in person?” 

You flush slightly, remembering the text you’d sent the pack the night before. 

‘This is embarrassing, but I’m on my cycle this week, and you probably won’t see me much. It’s usually pretty bad, but don’t worry, I’ll be good as new next week, and I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with it. Just didn’t wanna make any of you worry with my silence. Plus Hwasa told me I needed to tell you. So there. 😛’

“I didn’t think-” You start to say, and Felix cocks his head, staring at you. 

“Didn’t think we’d care? We do.” He says softly, firmly, in a way that makes your bones warm. 

“Yeah, noona.” Jeongin nods from behind Hyunjin’s shoulder. “I don’t know much, but I know enough from having girl friends that this time of month sucks on the regular.” 

Hyunjin loops his arm through yours. “Now c’mon. We have a bath already drawn up for you in the omega dorms. Let’s go before it gets cold.” 

“What, but I-” You begin to protest, but Felix takes your other arm as Jeongin shuts the door to your dorm behind you. 

“No buts.” He admonishes gently, giving you the hint of a smile. “You always help us, now let us help you.” 

It feels odd, foreign even, but you nod anyway, biting your bottom lip and swallowing the rest of your protest as they walk you over to the omega dorms. 

When they lead you into the communal bathroom, the large, sunken tub is already full of steaming water, bath oils shimmering on the surface, bubbles collecting at the edges. 

They really weren’t kidding when they said they’d drawn a bath for you. 

The room is steamy and warm and smells of citrus and something floral adjacent. 

Felix locks the door, and Jeongin moves to grab a couple of towels, as Hyunjin tugs you over to the large tub. 

He releases you, putting his hands on his hips, taking you in before he motions with a tilt of his head. “C’mon then, the water's not getting any warmer.” 

You hesitate, staring at him for a moment, and then you swallow. 

“You guys really don’t have to do this.” 

Jeongin glances at you from his seat on the lip of the tub, dangling his fingers in the water, genuine confusion on his face. “Why wouldn’t we?” 

“Well, just because-” You hedge out, not really sure how much detail to get into. “It’s kind of gross, and it gets messy-really messy, for me-and the bath is so nice, but you really don’t have to stay-” 

Hyunjin’s expression firms as he stares at you as you stutter out excuses. “Please, you don’t think we’re used to messy? C’mon, sweetheart, you’re talking to a room full of omegas here, we’ve got slick and bodily fluids and mess for days.” 

You blow out a breath at that. “I know, but-” “But nothing.” Felix says firmly, his hands going down on your shoulders. “A little blood isn’t gonna put any of us off. Right guys?” He glances to the other two omegas and they both nod without hesitation. “See?” Felix murmurs in your ear, his low voice sending a slight shiver down your spine. He moves a small fingered hand to cover your own where you still hold the heat pack to your lower stomach. “You don’t like to see us suffer, right? And you’ve helped us all through heats at this point, so let us help you now, okay?” 

Your gaze meets Hyunjin’s and he gives you a pointed stare.

“Just get in the fucking bath.”  

Sighing, you finally nod. “Okay. But let me go to the bathroom first.” 

You step into the ensuite bathroom and close the door, because suddenly, you feel self conscious. You’ve been naked in front of all of them before-they’re pack, for fuck’s sake-but this feels more intimate, more terrifying. 

Words used before ring through your mind as you strip down. 

Dirty. Pathetic. Shameful. Disgusting. Weak. 

Taking in a breath, you remove the protection you wear and toss it, and almost immediately, blood is slowly starting to ooze down the inside of your thighs, coating your skin with warmth and slickness. 

“Fuck.” You swear, glancing down, and decide that as much as you’d like to hide out in the bathroom for a few more moments, you can’t risk it. 

Not if you don’t want a puddle on the floor. 

Plus, the cramps are resuming with the removal of the heat pack. 

So with a sigh of resignation, you leave the bathroom, arms wrapped around you as you step into the warm humidity of the other room where the omegas are waiting. 

Trying to keep your legs clamped together so they can’t see the crimson coating your skin, you hurry to the bath and slide into the water. It instantly takes on a pink hue, and you hope they just attribute it to the bath oils they’d clearly added while you were gone. 

“Temperature okay?” Felix asks, moving to sit beside Jeongin at the edge of the tub, his gaze assessing your features. 

“Yeah, it’s good.” You breathe out, and shift awkwardly beneath the water. Already the heat is helping, but the way they’re all staring at you-

“All right, move over.” Hyunjin commands the younger omegas, as he approaches the bathtub with a rag held in one of his hands. He arches a brow at you as they slide apart, making room for him on the edge of the large tub. “Lemme see.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, mouth slightly parted. “No, it’s okay. You really don’t have to-” 

He crouches down beside the tub, wetting the rag in the water, his gaze never leaving yours. 

“It wasn’t a request, babe. Let me see.” 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard Hyunjin sound quite so authoritarian before. 

So without another word, you bring your knees up out of the water and spread your legs for him. 

The water has washed away the majority of the blood, but there’s still stubborn dried patches from earlier stuck to the warm skin of your upper thighs. 

Carefully, slowly, as if he’s scared he’ll spook you, Hyunjin leans forward over the lip of the bath and begins to gently scrub away the bloodstains from off your skin. 

You tense under the contact, taking in a sharp breath, but Felix reaches out to put a cool hand on the overheated skin of your shoulder. 

“C’mon, noona. You’d do the same for us. Let us take care of you.” 

You give a slight shake of your head, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re currently on your period, or if you’re just emotional suddenly, but tears choke your throat a little. “No, it’s not that. It’s just-” Your words cut off as you bite your tongue, because maybe being too honest in this moment isn’t the best thing. 

You feel Hyunjin’s gaze flicker up from his work in between your thighs, scanning over your pinched expression. 

“Someone gave you shit for it, didn’t they?” He asks softly, and you meet his gaze, your own mirroring the sudden shock his words send crashing over you. 

Felix’s fingers tighten a little bit on your shoulder. 

Hyunjin scoffs a little laugh-humorless and bitter-and must take your silence as an answer of itself, because he ducks his head to continue washing your skin with the warm water, saying in a murmur, “Yeah, I figured. People like to shit on things they don’t understand. It’s fucked up, but it’s the way it is.” 

“That’s just stupid.” Felix announces with a slight edge of defensiveness to his tone. “It’s an anatomical function. Just like something associated with secondary genders-like scents or slick or knotting. You can’t do anything about it.” 

“Yeah, but-” You hesitate, then push yourself to continue. “-mine’s always been worse than normal. Way worse than normal. And people just never liked to deal with it.” Your voice dips softer, your breath coming out in a sigh. “It got worse after I presented, so I just kind of holed up every month and dealt with it on my own.” 

“You’ve got us now, noona.” Jeongin murmurs back, moving his hand to cover Felix’s where it covers your shoulder.

You glance up and give him the hint of a smile. “I know.” Your smile wavers a bit. “But old habits die hard. And I don’t want you guys to ever think-” Once again, your words stutter to a halt. 

“Think what?” Felix pushes softly, as Hyunjin finishes washing your legs, and moves to lean against the lip of the tub, studying you silently, seriously. 

You shrug one shoulder. “I don’t know. That I’m gross or pathetic or something like that.” 

“Why would we ever think that?” Felix asks again, his voice coming out a little sharp in obvious defense of you. 

“Because someone else did.” Hyunjin answers for you, not looking up, playing with the rag held between his hands. He glances up at you. “Right?” 

You give a little nod and release a shaky breath. “Yeah.” 

“We’re not them.” Felix pushes firmly, his fingers squeezing into your shoulder until you look up at him. “Okay? We could never be like them.” You hold his gaze until a small part of you believes him, and move to squeeze his fingers back. 

“Okay.” 

********

The door to your dorm opens, and you glance up from your laptop, as soft footsteps head down the hall toward you. 

You smell him before you see him-rain. 

Chan appears in the doorway, clothed in an oversized hoodie and sweats, hood pulled up over his unruly curls. 

He leans against the doorframe as you shut your laptop, shifting it to the side of your bed as you meet his gaze. 

“Hey.” You say softly as way of greeting. 

“Hi.” He returns, reaching up to push his hood back with his free hand, the other dangling by his side, a plastic bag clenched between his fingers. “Yeosang said you didn’t feel well enough to go running this morning.” 

“Yeah.” You sigh, glancing down at the pile of blankets on your lap, the heating pad warming your lower stomach buried below the layers. “Wasn’t up to it.” 

Chan pads over to the bed and sits down on the edge, careful not to jostle you as he does so. 

You flick your gaze to his, and you can tell, by the furrow between his brows and the slight souring of petrichor that he’s worried. 

He holds aloft the bag in his hand. 

“I brought you some things.” 

Your lips curve slightly at the unexpected gesture. “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Of course I did.” He counters back, sliding the bag across the bed so it rests in your lap. 

You bite back a smile and glance down, undoing the knot of the bag to reveal the contents. 

On top is his overly large Nirvana hoodie, the fabric warm and soft between your fingers. 

“Your hoodie?” You look up at him in slight surprise, and the tips of his ears go red as he tries to play it off with a shrug. 

Adorable. 

“Yeah, I thought it might help.” 

You arch a brow, but pull out the hoodie and slip it on over your head without another word. 

You swear Chan makes a sort of muted purring sound in his chest when you do so. 

You dig into the bag some more, and pull out a couple of boxes of your favorite treats, some sports drinks, and a couple of DVDs-probably snagged from Jisung’s extensive collection. 

“Channie.” You breathe out, glancing up at him once more, and again, the stupid tears are threatening. “You really didn’t have to do all of this.” 

He shrugs, reaching for one of the movies, turning it over in his large hands. “C’mon, you really thought I was just gonna sit by and stay away while you’re clearly over here dying? You really don’t know me. Or him.” 

You give a little laugh at that, and Chan grins, dimples flashing. 

Glancing down at the treasures in your lap, you find yourself murmuring before you can stop the words, “No one’s ever done something like this for me before.” 

Chan shifts slightly on the bed, reaching out to put his hand over yours. “Yeah, well, that all ends now, baby. You’re stuck with me.And all of us.” 

You glance up at him, and he gives you another grin, reaching up to tousle his fingers through his hair as he spreads the movies out in front of you. 

“Now c’mon. Pick a movie. I brought you the cream of the crop.” 

You hold up one of the cases toward him, brow arched. 

“‘Hard Boiled’?” You announce with slight disbelief, a smirk curving your lips and brow disappearing further into your hairline. 

Chan reaches out and snatches the movie from you. 

“Okay, so maybe that one’s a miss. I tried.” 

You bite back a grin, and settle on one of the chickflicks you’ve seen a thousand times. 

But hey, classics are classics for a reason, right? 

After Chan fetches your laptop and gets the movie started, settled in the perfect spot on the end of the bed, you pat the spot beside you, scooting slightly so he has a bit more room. 

He hesitates. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you or anything.” 

You roll your eyes, reaching out to tug him down beside you with your fingers buried in the fabric of the sleeve of his hoodie. 

“I’m not injured, I’m just simply bleeding out slowly and surely.” 

“Oh, because that sounds so much better.” Chan retorts back in a grumble, but he doesn’t resist anymore, sliding beneath the layers of blankets with you. 

Grinning, you tug the hood of his Nirvana hoodie up over your head and snuggle into him, cheek on his broad, warm chest, arms wrapping around his middle. 

He’s like a furnace, and he smells like wet pavement. 

He wraps his arms around you in turn, keeping you tight against him, as he reaches to turn off the bedside lamp as the movie begins to play across the small brightly lit screen of your laptop. 

His cheek is resting on the top of your head, and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your own cheek is soothing. 

“Okay?” He asks softly, and you nod, cheek brushing the fabric of his own hoodie. 

“Yeah.” You murmur back. “More than okay.” 

You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, and suddenly, you don’t feel so bad anymore. 

******

You open the door to Minho, who immediately pushes past you without a word, a tower of bentos held in his arms. 

“Hello to you too.” You mutter as he marches past you, directly toward your small kitchen. 

You follow behind him wordlessly, and he motions to the table with a jerk of his chin as you enter, already spreading the boxes out on the counter top, removing lids like he has some sort of personal vendetta against them. 

“Sit.” He commands, and you decide it’s better not to question him, so you do. 

Almost within moments, Minho has presented you with a bowl full of steaming ramen with all the garnishes-fish cake, bamboo, mushrooms, bean sprouts-shoving a pair of chopsticks in your hand as he turns back to the counter. 

Your mouth falls agape, and your stomach rumbles loudly as the smell of the food reaches your nose. 

He returns to the table with a smaller bowl full of hot rice, and one full of kimchi. Last but not least, he positions a slab of perfectly cooked pink beef ribs atop your ramen and slides you one of the sports drinks Chan had brought you from the fridge. 

“Eat.” He commands once more, and you stare at him as he sits down across from you after tidying up the now empty bento boxes. 

“What-” You start to question, and he simply fixes you with an unblinking gaze, expression unreadable. 

“What, you’ve never had ramen before, sweetheart? You’re supposed to put it in your mouth.” 

Glancing down at the food before you, you hesitantly take your chopsticks and gather up a mouthful, before blowing on it and popping it into your mouth. 

It’s so heavenly, you almost moan. 

“Good girl.” Minho praises, seemingly satisfied, as you take another bite, and then another. He sits back in his own chair, watching you, but the food is too delicious for you to feel embarrassed under his sharp, astute gaze. 

“Holy shit, Minho.” You manage to get out in between bites. “You made this?”

Minho scoffs lightly. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m a good cook.” He leans forward slightly, sweeping his gaze over the quickly dwindling food. “I usually make this one with pork belly, but I read something about red meat being better when you’re on your period, so I swapped it for the ribs this time around. It wasn’t too disappointing.” 

Your gaze meets his, and your mouth falls open. 

“You read something?” You squeak out, and Minho has the decency to look offended, rolling his eyes. 

“What? I can read too you know, sweetheart, cooking isn’t just my one speciality. I’m a multi trick pony.” 

“No, no.” I shake my head, wiping my mouth and setting down my chopsticks for a moment. “You read up on what to make me while I’m on my period? Why?” 

Minho holds your gaze, arching a brow. “To get the recipe right.” 

You stare at him for another long moment, and when it’s clear that’s all you’re going to get, you move to resume eating, finishing the ramen in record time. 

Minho moves to gather up the now empty bowls, and in a bold move, you reach out and snag his hand with your own. 

“Thank you.” You say softly, seriously, and he gives you another long stare, before he pulls away and moves to pack up the dishes. 

You’re surprised when he moves to sit back down across from you instead of leaving immediately now that you’ve eaten his food. 

You sit in silence for a few moments, and you don’t know what it is about Minho that’s always made you feel safe, unjudged, able to tell him anything, but you find yourself, once again, volunteering to tell him something you’ve never told anyone else before. 

The words are already at the tip of your tongue before you can stop them. 

“I had an abortion.” You announce into the silence, and if Minho is shocked by you baring this truth out of the blue, he doesn’t show it. Which gives you the courage to go on, fidgeting with your fingers, as you stare down at the chipped surface of the table. 

“When I was a teenager. And it made them worse-the periods, I mean. They were bad before, but ever since-” You give a slight shake of your head and let out a breath. “-they’ve been awful.” 

“Mm.” Minho makes a sound of acknowledgement beneath his breath from across the table, but that’s it. He doesn’t offer anything more. 

So you keep going. 

Spilling your guts into the silence. 

“I thought, for a long time-” You sniff and take in a breath, a humorless sharp little choked laugh leaving your lips as you continue. “-that maybe I was being punished, you know? Punished for being born a girl, punished for presenting as an alpha, punished for-” Your words trail off a little. “-well, you know. Not keeping it.” 

You shrug, tapping your fingers along the table softly. 

“I dunno. Maybe I thought that bleeding was a symbol of everything I’d ever done wrong. It was certainly treated as such.” 

There is a long moment of silence, your words hanging heavy in the air between you, and then Minho takes a breath, leaning forward across the table.

“You know, sweetheart-” He murmurs, and you glance up at the soft tone of his voice, so unfamiliar when it comes to the alpha sitting across from you. “-I’ve come to learn that everything is simply a coincidence. There’s no higher power punishing people, bullshit happens to people every day and it’s all just a fluke. There’s no rhyme or reason.” 

You swallow, and he holds your gaze with his own. 

“So believe me, when I tell you, that whatever idiotic moron made you think there’s something wrong with you that needs to be ‘punished’ every goddamn month, is a fucking fool.” Your lips part slightly, but he doesn’t let you speak. 

“And if it’s yourself, well then-” He gives you a hint of a smirk, tilting his head slightly as he regards you. “-I’m afraid you’re just gonna have to tell that bitch to shut the fuck up, sweetheart.” 

******

You wince slightly, coming in after your shower, hurrying to the dresser to find a pair of underwear to slip on beneath your oversized t-shirt before you can drip all over the floor. 

Changbin must take notice of the grimace from his spot on your bed, because he pushes himself up, arching a brow. 

“Cramps?” 

You nod, still digging through your drawers for underwear, swearing slightly under your breath. “Yeah. They always get worse whenever I stand up and move around.”

You feel his presence behind you, smell a wave of smoke wash over your senses. 

“You know what they say.” He murmurs, wrapping a strong arm around your waist, careful not to put too much pressure on your tender midsection. “About helping cramps.”

You scoff a little, glancing over your shoulder at him. “What if that’s just an old wives tale?” 

He wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully, smirking a little now. “Is it?” 

You skate your gaze away from his, suddenly embarrassed. “I mean. I don’t know.” 

There is a brief moment of pause, and then Changbin asks in slight surprise, “What, you’ve never done it before?” 

You huff a breath at that, still avoiding his gaze, hands stilling in the depths of your drawer. “I mean-” You hesitate, before admitting, “-it’s gross.” 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Changbin turns you at that, hands going down firmly on your shoulders, lifting your chin with a finger after another moment of you not looking at him 

“I’m gonna drip blood all over the floor if you don’t let me go find something soon.” You protest a little weakly, reluctantly holding his gaze. 

“In a minute.” He waves you off, expression going serious as he stares at you. “Listen, I mean, if that’s you talking, and you personally think it’s gross, then by all means, I get it, and that’s well within your right. As Hyunjin would say, ‘Slay, pussy boss bitch queen’ or whatever he usually says to empower females, but-” 

You watch the way his brow furrows, dark gaze holding your own, lips pressing into a firm almost angry line. “-If some son of a bitch pussy footing prick masquerading as a man put that idea in your head that it was gross, then we’re gonna have a whole other problem.” 

You stare at him for a long moment, mouth opening and closing for a few brief seconds as you try and comprehend what he’s telling you. 

“You-” You hedge out, still staring at him in slight disbelief. “-don’t think it’s gross?” 

Changbin chuckles, and then it turns into a full blown laugh. “Baby girl. What part of who I am and all you know about me points toward the fact that I would find anything about this gross in the slightest?”

“I don’t know-” You protest back helplessly. “I just thought-” Changbin backs you up until your back hits the wood of the dresser behind you, hands going on either side of your head, and when you take in a sharp breath, meeting his gaze, his irises are almost gleaming completely gold. When he speaks, his tone is low, voice almost predatory. “Well, let me correct you then.” He leans closer to you, breathing in against your temple, taking in your scent. 

“Blood is not a turn off for me. Or him. Quite the opposite actually.” 

You take in a shaky breath, mind taking a moment to catch up to what he’s telling you. 

“So.” He brushes his nose along your hairline, breathing you in still. “I’m going to ask you again. You know what they say helps cramps?” 

Your voice is small, barely a whisper. “Yes.” He flicks his gaze down to yours, smirking slightly-teeth flashing dangerously in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You wanna try it?” 

You swallow hard, and push past every single part of you that’s screaming at you to say otherwise. 

“Yes.” 

As if that’s all he needs to hear, Changbin sweeps you up with a growl, and deposits you will little to no effort on the center of your bed, flat on your back. 

You don’t even have a moment to feel ashamed or embarrassed, or check the situation down below before he’s already crawling between your legs, forcing your thighs apart for him. 

“Bin-” You start to protest, panic setting in once more as you feel the telltale stickiness on the inside of your upper thighs, but he silences you with one glance. 

“I’m gonna take it easy on you, baby. It tends to get a little more sensitive down here around this time, yeah? We’re gonna make sure you’re comfortable,so don’t worry about that, but I also don’t want to hear one word out of that pretty mouth unless it’s begging me for more, understood?” 

He settles himself down on his stomach between your thighs, and you find yourself only able to whisper out, “Yes, sir.” 

A sharp flash of white teeth. “Good girl.”

You take in a breath, holding it, and then let it out slowly, trying not to think of anything but the feel of his warm breath on your skin, the tickling of his fingers skating up your bare legs, moving back the hem of the large t-shirt you wear-

He slides a finger inside of you, and you instantly tense up. 

“Relax.” He murmurs, and you try to do as he asks, and you know he can feel it, when he gives a slightly approving hum in the back of his throat, almost a growl. “Good girl. There you go.” 

“Oh.” You breathe out, as you slowly relax, and he slides a second finger in, moving them carefully, searchingly, looking for that spot inside that makes you feel like you’re floating on air, sparks flashing before your eyes. 

He’s right, you are sensitive down there, and everything is overwhelming, but in a good way. 

“Bin-” You whine out, squirming slightly now, body already keying up as hot ropes of pleasure start to gather low in your belly. 

“Yeah, baby.” He purrs, and when you meet his gaze, his pupils have completely taken over the gold of his irises. 

It’s almost enough to send you over right then and there, the way his lips are slightly parted, drinking in the sight of you writhing beneath his touch greedily. 

He pulls back, before you can fully succumb to the pleasure though, and you have to bite down hard on your lip to stop from whining at the sudden loss of contact. 

He shifts, pulling his hand back from you, and holds up his fingers for you to see, his gaze slowly tracing over the blood dribbling down the digits, staining his skin crimson. 

“Beautiful.” He growls, and the way he says the word has a shiver running down your spine. 

He raises the fingers to his mouth, and without thinking, you jolt upward, already reaching out for him, old habits kicking in as you blurt out in a sudden panic once more, “Don’t-” He holds your gaze steadily as he slips the fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean, slowly, one by one. 

You stare at him, mouth agape, chest heaving, and you hate to say it, but it’s probably one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen-watching him savor the taste of you on his fingers, cleaning them with swipes of his tongue, his dark gaze never wavering from yours. 

“‘Don’t’ what?” He growls out, pinning you beneath his swirling golden gaze. “Don’t taste you?” 

And without warning, he leans back down between your legs, and drags the warmth of his tongue up your center, flattening it against you as he slowly works his way upward. 

Your breath comes out on a sort of choked sound, and you fall back against the bed, muscles trembling. 

“Jesus fuck-” You swear breathlessly, and a guttural growl rumbles in his chest at the words leaving your lips. 

He surges up, hands going down on either side of your head now, staring down at you, eyes dark and hungry and predatory. 

His lips are reddened, stained with blood. 

Your blood. 

Well, fuck. 

He smirks, and you reach up without really thinking to swipe the pad of your thumb across the full swell of his bottom lip, studying the crimson that comes off on your skin when you do so.

A slightly awe filled laugh leaves your lips on your next exhale. 

Changbin flashes bloodstained teeth at you in a sharp grin. 

A completely dangerous sight you could get used to. 

“Want me to keep going?” He murmurs, holding your gaze. 

You nod eagerly, already moving to pull him down to you. “Yes please.” And when you kiss him, you taste yourself on his lips in an entirely new way-the way he must-and he’s right. 

It’s fucking beautiful.

****

“Feeling better, gorgeous?” Jisung murmurs to you, leaning back against your chest, your arms wrapped around his tiny waist beneath the warmth of the blankets. 

“Much.” You breathe back, rubbing your nose against his soft hair. 

Seungmin scoffs from his position behind you, his own arm slung along the couch behind your heads. 

“Be quiet. The two of you are gonna miss the movie.” Jisung leans his head back and grins up at you, nose wrinkling, as he whispers to you loudly, “Party pooper.” 

You laugh, kissing the tip of his nose. 

Seungmin sighs behind you, but you feel him stroking his fingers idly through your hair regardless of his show of irritation. 

You snuggle down between the betas, the air filled with the spice of ginger and linens, warm and safe beneath the blanket between their bodies, and feel, for the first time in your life, that maybe this week isn’t as awful as you always thought. 

Maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t need to be. 

Not ever again. 

Not with them. 

[daeholuvs]

“You’re Beautiful”

Cho Sangwoo x fem!reader

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚

Warnings: none idk? Age gap (legal) reader is in 20s sangwoo is in his 40s

Note: hey… so like this is just me fulfilling my fantasies so if you don’t like it feel free to scroll!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆༘ *

“Hey baby have you seen my t-“

Before your husband could finish his sentence you had already handed him his tie. That was the dynamic between you and Sangwoo, you both knew each other like the back of your hands, your actions becoming predictable to one another.

“You’re a lifesaver” he says as he gives you a loving kiss on the cheek

You continue getting ready, finalizing your makeup and touching up your hair. You slip into your beautiful floor length gown, the colour of the dress not only complements your skin tone but is matching Sangwoos tie. Something about you guys matching makes you feel fuzzy inside, it makes events like this feel more personal.

You make your way down to the driver that Sangwoo had hired. He’s a man with money, so why not treat you like a princess.

As you got closer to the gala you could feel your anxiety creeping up on you. You start to feel overwhelmed and your husband noticed as well.

“Y/n, my love, you have nothing to be worried about. You know all my colleagues from the office, and not to mention that they all love you”

You let out a sigh and turn to face Sangwoo. “It’s not that, it’s just all the women in the office look like super models”

“Sweetheart, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I could get lost in your beautiful eyes, your lips so perfect, so plump I could kiss them all day he says as he kisses you, oh and y/n that ass of yours just wow-“

“Sangwoo!” You say giggling and taking his hand in yours

“I’m just kidding, but I do love your ass just like I love everything about you” he says placing another kiss on your lips.

The car comes to a stop, you have arrived to the gala. You step out into the cool air

“Come on sweetheart, let’s go enjoy our night”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚

The place was packed. There had to be at least 200 people there. You walk in side by side with Sangwoo. You look at the seating chart and go to your assigned table.

“There he is, Mr. Boss man accompanied by Mrs. Boss man” said Gi-hun, one of Sangwoos best friends from childhood and new work colleague.

“Give it a rest” Sangwoo chirps back, playfully punching Gi-Huns shoulder.

As the night goes on you become more and more bored. Not that you didn’t like attending these events with your husband, it’s just he’s been preoccupied by investors for majority of the night. You hear an exaggerated laugh, a women’s laugh. You peak up from your seat and notice an older woman clinging onto your husband like a leech. she must be around Sangwoos age.

You don’t even remember standing up but next thing you know you’re standing next to Sangwoo, grabbing onto his arm.

“Hey, who’s this?” You ask, a fake smile spread across your face as you stare at the woman in front of you.

“Oh y/n this is Seo-yun an interested investor, Seo-yun this is y/n, my-“

“Assistant! Oh it’s so nice that Mr. Cho takes you to these events, he must be an excellent boss. You don’t see many CEOs taking their assistants to fancy places like this”

“Uhm no actually I’m his wife” you say through gritted teeth, trying not to smack a bitch

“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize that you were his wife

What did she mean by that comment? That someone like you couldn’t be loved? That you weren’t good enough for Sangwoo? You felt a wave of sadness crash over you. Your whole demeanour shifts as you stand there awkwardly.

“Yes, we uh just got married last spring” he says clearing his throat trying to lighten the mood. He snakes a hand around your waist, tracing patterns to help reassure you.

“Oh… well congratulations” Seo-yun says as she walks away.

“Hey I think I’m gonna head out, but you stay and enjoy your night, please”

“No you know what, I’m coming with you”

“What? No this is supposed to be your night, stay and have some fun and-“

“Nope. Don’t do that, no one speaks to my wife that way and expects me to do business with them. I’m calling the driver now”. Sangwoo was fuming.

You couldn’t help but feel relieved that Sangwoo decided to go home with you. Although a little bit of guilt lingered in the back of your mind, making your husband leave his event, a night that creates new work opportunities you felt horrible. But Sangwoo always put your needs first, he loved you so much that he would probably sell his company just to put a smile on your face.

“The cars outside, let’s go honey”

“Mr. Cho why are you leaving”

“Mr. Cho we don’t get to talk yet”

“Mr. Cho if you could just spare a minute”

He ignored every single investor that tried to stop him on the way out. He promised his wife a great night, a night of fun, but unfortunately that didn’t go as planned. He felt furious. How could they mistake his precious wife, someone so beautiful, so kind, and so genuine as his assistant. He wished the world around you guys could be more mindful, as all he wanted to do was show you off.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ��� * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Your husband asked, getting into bed

“No no it’s fine” you say quietly

“Y/n, baby, I’m so sorry”

“Sangwoo you have nothing to be sorry about, it’s not your fault”

“C’mere” He says, patting your side of the bed and making grabby hands like a child

You couldn’t help but laugh as you climb into bed next to him. He pulls your body towards his, your head resting against his chest.

You both lay there for a while, just enjoying each other’s company. Until Sangwoo decides to break the silence.

“My pretty girl. I’m so sorry about tonight. he says and kisses the top of your head.

You nuzzle into his neck, breathing in his scent and leaving reassuring kisses. Sangwoo starts to play with your hair while whispering sweet nothings into your ear, occasionally nibbling on it.

“I never want you to feel like you’re anything less than perfect. You’re beautiful my angel. My perfect baby. The world doesn’t deserve you, you’re much too graceful”

“I love you so much sangwoo” you lean up to kiss him

“I love you more y/n. Get some rest, I’m taking you on a very special date tomorrow”

You fall asleep to the beating of your husband’s heart, excited for what he has planned for you guys tomorrow.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ੈ✩‧₊˚ ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ⋆·˚

Hey so… don’t judge me😃😃😃

[therandompagesblog]

SKZ Pack Chapter 20

Trigger warnings: MDNI, smut, cunnilingus, role play, orgasm, blowjobs

Y/N looked at Changbin who held his head in his hands with an empty energy drink in front of him. He really hated working at the hospital. Changbin didn't have the stomach for it. Changbin was better at martial arts than emergency service. Changbin was also like Y/N who also wasn't brought up with humans and almost never encountered them. He found them difficult and overly or under expressive. They were either cold hearted and numb to pain that they didn't care about treatment or the opposite where they were hyper emotional. Changbin hated it. Y/N begged him to tell Jaehee but he couldn't. He didn't want to disappoint his sister. She was the closest thing he had to a mum. His sister brought him. She was all he had.

Y/N sighed and made him some lunch since the wolves where preoccupied with other things like getting her Christmas presents since Y/N was nosy. Instead she was here trying to make Changbin better. "How about we watch a movie." Y/N cooed as she massaged his shoulders. "I don't want to, baby. Let me have a minute while I phone Jaehee." Changbin asked. Y/N nodded and collected his bag and coat, taking it up to his room when she had a naughty idea. Y/N smirked and took Changbin's white doctors coat, heading into her room so she could prepare herself. By preparing, she put on a dark green bodysuit with stockings that she ordered and made Jeongin pick it up. Did Jeongin look? Of course not, but he was curious. Y/N clipped the body suit on then brushed her hair so it was and tidy. Y/N then picked up his stethoscope, wrapping it around her neck before heading down stairs.

Changbin loved to role play. He was very expressive that way. Changbin sometimes even wanted to play alpha and omega which got Seungmin teasing him about it for a week. The doctor and patient are one they haven't done before, so she was feeling quite brave as she headed down the stairs to see Changbin still on the phone. "Seo Changbin." Y/N called out, placing her hands in the picked as she watched Changbin slowly turn round. His mouth dropped and his eyes were wide. "Ya. Jaehee can you phone me tomorrow. I gotta see the doctor." Changbin stuttered over his words. His eyes never left her body once as he consumed the sight of her, but that ended. Y/N walked away from him down the corridor and up the stairs while Changbin followed her like a lost omega. Y/N sped up, walking in to Chan's office, heading straight towards his black office chair. Y/N watched in amusement Changbin fall through the door. His eyes were so fixed on her body as he watched her sexily pull out a notepad and pen. Y/N twirled the pen softly around pink tongue, flicking it slightly. "Seo Changbin, what seems to be the problem today." Y/N moaned. Changbin gulped as he watched her lean back, taking the notepad with her. She tilted her head, looking at him. Her tongue licked her bottom lip to tease him. "My head. Yeah. It hurts." Changbin stuttered out. "Mmm." Y/N moaned, tapping the pen on her chin as she made some notes. "Where exactly?" "H-here." Changbin pointed to his temple, feeling his sweaty head.

Y/N placed her hands on the arm rest, positioning herself slowly. She uncrossed her legs lustfully, presenting her uncovered pussy that pretended to be hidden behind the lace covered basque. It was arousing for both of them. Changbin wanted to touch her as he saw a drop of slick slide out slowly, dropping into Chan's chair. Y/N closed her legs slowly to cross them. Then she leaned over Chan's desk, flattening her boobs for Changbin to see. Changbin gulped and started to palm himself through his trousers. "Maybe you should pleasure yourself once in a while Mr Seo. Self pleasure can help." Y/N slid back up and gripped her breasts in her hands, showing him as she squeezed them. "Yeah!" Changbin breathed out. "Do you know how to. Please yourself?" Y/N asked as she stuck two of her fingers in her both to play with her tongue. "No." Changbin whined. "We'll do it together, Mr Seo." Y/N moaned out as she crawled onto Chan's table, sitting on her feet. "Pull your cock out and touch yourself. Slowly." Y/N ordered. Changbin did just that. He unbuckled his belt and slid his trousers down to his ankles. Then he slid his boxers down. His thick cock sprung out, sticking up. His red juicy head was leaking with pre-cum.

Y/N moaned at the sight of his cock. Her fingers left her mouth and slid down to the base of her throat, pretending Changbin was choking her. "Fuck. Please don't do that. Only I can choke that neck." Changbin panted. Y/N squeezed harder. Then her hands traveled down the middle of her breasts to her thigh. Y/N squeezed them before spreading her legs, letting Changbin see her. Changbin, squeezed his cock harshly, while pumping nice and slow. It was agonising for him as he felt the knot boil up in his core. He wanted to knot her and he could this time. She was on contraception. "Flick your head." Y/N ordered, watching his thumb graze of his swollen head that needed her. "Can I taste you, Mr Seo?" Y/N's restraint was about to leave her body and she was desperately going to beg him. "Yes doc. My cock is so swore." Changbin panted. Y/N got off the table and crawled slowly over to Changbin with her luscious mouth open. Changbin held his cock ready for her to take. When Y/N reached him, she slid her hands over the arm rest and licked his cock subtly. Then she did it again, until Changbin slapped his cock over her lips, trying to force his way in.

Y/N opened her mouth slowly and took Changbin in her mouth. Her movements were slow and deep. Her grey foggy eyes watched him every time she went down and relaxed her throat. Changbin wanted to slam her head down and rut in her mouth, but he still wanted to play her game. Y/N stopped and let him go with a pop. She walked back to Chan's 's desk swaying her hip as she sat on it. Y/N placed her hands either side of her while spreading her legs. Her slick had thickened, ready to take the beta. "Come have a taste." Y/N moaned out, as she watched Changbin run towards her, dropping down so his face could press against her dripping pussy. Changbin took a long lick, before entering her cavern. He wanted to eat from the source. He was hungry. A desperate deprived man. "I can't play this game anymore." Changbin hummed. "Then fuck me." Y/N stated.

Changbin didn't think twice and pulled her forward to slam his cock into her. His arms lifted her legs up so they rested on his shoulders as he fucked her. Y/N gripped the desk as tightly as she could as Changbin's aggressive pace quickened. Changbin was aiming deeper, hitting her cervix as he thrusted. Changbin's moans were deep and breathy. His hand was on her throat choking her, while her head was thrown back. His other hand was flicking her swollen bud. They were both ready to cum. Changbin put his fingers in her mouth, choking her. Over stimulating her as she came. Changbin followed after her and came. Changbin continued to thrust as his knot expanded to keep his cum tightly in her instead of leaking out. Changbin rested his head on her shoulder by his mark for a moment before looking at her. "I love you so fucking much." Changbin whispered. "I love you too Binnie. I want you to be happy." Y/N said. Her hand came to rest on his face. "I'm happy when I'm with you." Changbin kissed her wrist, looking down. "Baby you've broken Channie's desk." "Fuck." Y/N said as she looked at the desk. Her hands must have gripped too hard. "We'll order another one for Christmas."

Taglist for the iconic readers:

@galaxy4489 @reallychaoticwoo @leezanetheofficial @mbioooo0000 @jisungs-iced-americano @maybeimmia @hwangrfrnd@wolfo2027 @kayleefriedchicken @leamueller920 @borahae-reads @jennibahng @cookiesandcreammy @jutdwae-flower @danceonmyheyday @jc003 @hpnsfwaddict @pixie0627

~ Taglist closed due to Tumblr only allowing a certain amount ~

[queenpiranhadon]

As a counter to you sending me a scrumptious request, I SHALT DO THE SAME.

So, there's like a lot of drama going on rn (kinda juicy lols)

How about, Bakugou Katsuki whose best friend, Reader, (who he's secretly in love with) gets confessed to by a handful of people within two weeks' time or something.

Pwetty please? ✋😔

A/N: AHHH SEO I'M SO SORRY I'VE BEEN SO CAUGHT UP WITH THE WARRIOR SERIES THAT I DIDN'T HAVE TIMEEEE 😭 Here's the masterlist lol

Warning(s): Cursing, kabedon kinda, Bakugou gets kinda possessive, short but sweet, confessions, reader is obliviously in love, just fluff

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

•────•°•❀•°•──── ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇʀꜱ ────•°•☁︎•°•─────•

“I swear to ever loving fuck yer gonna be the death of me.”

You swat Bakugou’s arm, half joking, half serious.

“Bakugou! Don’t swear you idiot. Plus I think it’s sweet.” You chide, returning your gaze to the mess of gifts that lay on your desk. It was your third year- you would all be graduating next week. And over the past week, you were bombarded with love notes wherever you went, finding three in your locker one morning, 4 on your desk, and even one slipped into your gym back when you returned from training.

Bakugou clicks his teeth, and rolls his eyes. “I seriously have no idea what those idiots see in ya. Must need glasses like Four Eyes or somethin’

You snort at that, ignoring the sting you felt in your heart as he said the words. You knew he didn’t mean it, it was just Bakugou being Bakugou, so why did it hurt so much?

Thankfully, Aizawa chose that moment to walk in, sparing you the obligation to respond to Bakugou’s confusion when you went silent. 

***

Class was a drag, per usual, and you were packing up your stuff, planning on heading to your locker, when you were ambushed by yet another secret admirer. 

This person however, was bolder, deciding to give you flowers and a box of chocolates in person. You recognize him, a boy from one of the business courses, in the year below you. 

“L-L/N-san!” he says brightly, thrusting the box and bouquet into your arms, catching you off guard. “I like you a lot, ever since my first year here…! Would you go out with me? Just for one date, I promise you won’t regret it!”

To be honest, you really hadn’t thought about dating much - you were so caught up with school work and work studies that you never really focused on romantic relations. However, Hawks, your work studies mentor, allowed you off for the summer before you’d return to his agency as a sidekick.

You weren’t sure what to say- sure the boy in front of you was sweet and caring, but he wasn’t what you thought of when you thought about an ideal partner. 

But damn did you hate rejecting people.

Luckily, you didn’t have to. 

Bakugou storms in behind you, slamming your locker for full effect, his own way of self restraint. 

“Fuck off.” he growls, and you can tell it’s taking everything in him to not throttle the boy into the ground. 

The latter swallows thickly and throws his hands up, attempting to talk himself out of the situation. 

“Bakugou-san I was just-”

“Fuck. off.”he seethes, and with that the boy bolts down the hall.

You both stand there, not saying anything before you hear Bakugou’s voice again. 

“You.”

“Bakugou…?” you ask warily, and he slams you against the lockers, caging you against it with his body. You can almost feel the rage emanating off of him. 

“Do ya know, how annoyin ya’ve been these past few weeks, huh? Fuckin runnin around gettin love letters left and right.” he grumbles and you feel yourself getting a little angry too. 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that. Plus, I thought ‘you didn’t know what everyone else saw in me’. You can’t call me fucking ugly and then expect me to come trailing after you like a damn puppy.” you snap, and Bakugou’s eyes widen. 

“Goddamnit.” he groans, pulling off of you and his face turns red. 

“I..” he starts, and he groans again. “I fuckin like ya okay?!”

Your eyes widen, and you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He…

You smile, and step closer to him, pressing a small kiss on his cheek.

“C’mon, Blasty. Let’s go back to the dorms.”

[seozii]

TIP TOE

very unusual and slightly interesting

# PAIRING seungmin x f/gn!reader

# 🐈 — SEO reposting from my old acc bc why not? Hell yah am I rotting in writers block 😍 plus exams coming up, yes girl I’m going to disappear again🥰

Seungmin was never the type to show his affection through physical touch. It was a known fact.

Once when you tried to hold his Hands he swatted yours away. When you tried to back hug him he glared into your souls before you could even take a step near him. You don’t even remember the last time you’ve kissed.

You realized that not many people are a big fan of physical touches. Especially seungmin.

It was like any other day, all you did was work work and work. Have you even had any breaks?? Just packed schedules with your boss bossing you around like you were some kind of robot.

After hours of you being overworked it finally ceased. You finally had a chance to go home and rest to relax.

You took a quick cold and refreshing shower coming out feeling very refreshed and clean.

Inspecting through your wardrobe you smiled once you’ve finally found your favorite pair of pajamas.

You quickly slipped in on before collapsing onto your bed. You let out a sigh feeling welcomed by the soft and plush mattress.

You’re finally able to relax allowing yourself to be fully enveloped by the plush mattress, without someone throwing you around like a rag doll or nagging into your head.

You heard muffling sounds of the door opening and closing shut, footsteps echoing through the hallways. No you weren’t bothered by it at all. All you wanted to do was fall into a deep slumber.

As you were about to drift off to sleep you felt someone felt a presence behind you before you knew it you felt an arm being wrapped around your waist, drawing your body closer to their chest.

Highly bewildered you whipped your head around only to see seungmin holding onto you tightly.

You were about to speak but he cut you off burying your face in his chest.

His touch was gentle, warm and welcoming. You can’t lie, you absolutely loved this feeling.

He seemed to be lost in his own world. You didn’t want to be the one to ruin it but you had to ask. This behavior was stranger considering he was the one who absolutely hated physical touches.

You finally muttered up the courage to ask. “Min….are you good?” You asked softly glancing back up at him.

He didn’t say anything. Instead he changed positions burying his face in your chest.

He was obviously in a frail state, he needed comfort.

Hesitantly your hands began to find its way through his scalp massaging it softly. You heard a low and soft hum escape from his lips.

He pulled you closer his hands still around your waist as he pulled you even more closer, your legs tangled under the layers of the bed sheet, leaving your heart beating at an extremely fast rate.

Suddenly he pulled away catching you off guard. “Ah i’m so sorry, I must have made you feel uncomfortable, I didn’t ask for your permission, I was just really tired and stressed I didn’t even—“ he babbled looking down in embarrassment

You immediately interfered. “Hey, no it doesn’t make me uncomfortable and you don’t need to ask for permission” you reassured Smiling softly.

He looked at you with a skeptical look. “Are you sure about it?, so we can continue?”

You nodded then felt yourself being pulled back into the bed.

He buried your face into his chest once again. His hot breath tickling against your neck.

“Mmm let’s do this more often” he asserted.

“Why not” you agreed getting more comfortable in his arms. Soon you both drifted off to sleep with you in his arms and his arms around your waist.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

❝ You’re the one who brought the dawn to my eternal nights. ❞

Ω!reader x α!jeong-hyun | omegaverse AU, fluff, NSFW | sub. bttm. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 4k

warnings: graphic description of violence, mentions/descriptions of CA (physical, mental, emotional), mentions of dog attacks, guns, power imbalance, yandere tendencies, mentions of drugs, stalking, mentions of torture

masterlist: how you met (mob yanderes) : pt. 1 (K.JH); pt. 2 (K, JH); pt.3 (K. JH)

authors note: @xuxitheii come get your meal "...(Y/N) could be a performer/singer at a gentleman's club..." *song on repeat: Gangsta by Kehlani (spec. the flashback version)

* YN is described as wearing more fem. clothing as he performs

He doesn't understand why he is the way he is. If Jeong-Hyun could voice his thoughts in a more concise manner, he would tell others that though the life he leads, with death awaiting at every corner, was perfect for him — he wishes he could do anything else other than this.

That, although, he is a violent man he only ever uses it as a necessity; a reaction, a defense.

A dog does not bite for no reason.

But he is not a dog.

He is a man.

Seo-Yun tells him this with such a kind smile, his heart hammers out of his chest each time she does. Jeong-Hyun doesn't understand why it does that.

When he was a child, he'd been thrown into the dog fighting rings as the opener. The new top dog would snarl at him, foam at the mouth as it barked while he cowered into a corner that did not exist. The men and women who cheered from above him, around him, disorientating as his pumping veins all but thundered with each beat of his heart.

The lights, the announcer yelling into the microphone, the beer cans thrown into the ring to push him out into the centre — and if that didn't work, the electric cow prods they'd jab at him from every side until he leapt into the rabid dogs maw.

That would get his heart racing the same way.

That visceral fear. It was a familiar emotion for Jeong-Hyun. Fear was a friend, a constant, the tremors in his hands, the clenching of his jaws, the scars on the insides of his cheeks.

Seo-Yun's kindness brings him fear and he does not understand but he cannot say this out loud.

Why? He doesn't know.

But when fear is not a constant, other emotions tentatively make way to the top. These, comes with wants rather than needs. Jeong-Hyun finds himself wanting things outside of needing to survive a fight, or of stomaching down the gruel he was given once a week.

Now that he can breathe, he can want and Jeong-Hyun is floored by this.

Seo-Yun provides whatever he wishes. A landed house with an open concept interior, soft clothes for when he is home, things he'd need for the pack of strays he adopted. When he is hurt, she hires the best doctors who stick needles into his inner elbows and with each lazy drop of the thick liquid it makes Jeong-Hyun’s nerves cool into beautiful numbness.

The money he gets doesn’t exactly hinder his wanting either. He can simply flash some of the notes and suddenly everyone bends over backwards.

Everything seems more feasible and within his grasp. His dream of simply surviving now a mishappen...blob.

A blob that has no shape. No colour. No ideals. No goals. He simply fulfils his sister's wishes because he loves her and can clearly see her dream in its vivid colours.

Then, as if the world had finally listened to his incomprehensible thoughts, you came into his life.

It was night time  — most of Jeong-Hyun's activities is when the sky is dark  — and he'd been accompanying his sister in her discussions with some drug lord.

Swaying favours, swapping fielty, trading a few secrets and cash for more access.

The usual business.

Jeong-Hyun hated the entrance of it. The narrow pathway between two buildings, climbing down the stairs into an even tighter foyer, before being let in. Even then, the tightness does not dissipate.

This gentleman's club — with it's heavy red drapery along the walls that reek of cigar and artificial fruit flavoured smoke — and the yellow and dim lighting that was meant to be moody...

He saw it as nothing more than headache inducing nuisances.

Secrecy was a must considering what goes on beyond these doors.

Gambling, prostitution, drugs, money laundering — the whole nine yards.

But fuck, couldn't they afford a bigger spot?

Seo-Yun glanced his way, then to his curled fingers and white knuckles. They meet their gazes. He offers a grimace, his left eye twitching just slightly, and shakes his head. Being uncomfortable was the norm for him before Seo-Yun. He can perserver. There was nothing here that he wasn’t used to.

The girls here knew better than to lay hands on him.

Or perhaps they were too frightened with how intimidating he was. With his broad shoulders and imposing height, his good eye shining in the low light; he wasn’t shy about flooding his space with his scent either.

Jeong-Hyun didn’t give a shit if it was unseemly or ungentlemanly. If it got the message across that he wasn’t someone you shoved around — he didn’t care if it made noses curl or cheeks turn red.

The girls, however, crowded his sister.

Her scent was more muted despite the core of it being alpha-like. A musk that all alpha’s equally shared as a base note. She grinned, using her tall frame to make them coo as they hung onto her arms.

She’d always been so nice to the whores. Jeong-Hyun rolled his eyes, air escaping through his nose as Seo-Yun tucked some hair behind one of their ears, purposefully ghosting her wrist along their jaw. Their brain basically exploded, pupils growing so wide it made Jeong-Hyun think of a rat’s shimmering eyeballs.

Seo-Yun gives them a lipless, yet coy, curl of her lips. No teeth in sight, demure in their presence. It helps that they're familiar with her cues. Afterall, this was not their first time visiting this establishment.

But tonight was different. Because, once again, this was the night everything changed for him.

They were seated in the VIP area, tucked in a cove to ensure privacy whilst still having a clear unblocked view of the stage. The curtains lifted just as they sat down, Jeong-Hyun spreading his legs as a clear sign of impoliteness. His gun holster peeks from his leather jacket.

There’s the strum of a bass guitar. The echoing twang making him unclench his jaw as he turns his head to face the stage.

You were a sight he’d never seen, and he’d seen plenty.

Gaping bullet holes. Guts spilling with billowing steam as insides meet the outside. Ears and fingers torn apart. Heads splattered open on the concrete. Brain matter swirling down the concrete of a butcher shop.

All that horror dissipates into smoke.

You were dressed like an angel. An angel for gangsters like himself, anyways. No snowy white wings and cherub rosy-dusted cheeks and tight blonde curls.

Instead, you had elbow-high gloves that were beaded with pearls around the seam. The flesh of your thigh has a tantalizing shimmery hue of your skin tone, twinkling faintly as you swayed your hips and shimmied your fur-covered shoulders.

Did you know you pout every time you sing into the microphone? Nothing majorly obvious, but he was enchanted by the colour of your gloss and how soft your lips looked.

He noticed.

He remembers hearing your voice lift every time you smile as you sing. How adorable the crease between your eyebrows was as you crooned to the audience.

When you started to walk off the stage, he had to stop himself from snarling as the alphas in the crowd began cheering and whooping. Seo-Yun’s hand on his nape makes him damn near short circuit.

She’s staring at him with her brows furrowed. It’s his scent. That sharp, spicy, scent of a displeased alpha — he’d been seething so much the girls were cowering next to his sister.

Jeong-Hyun was an uncaring asshole but not a heartless one. He offers a grimace as an apology, uncurling his fists and turning his head around again only to be met with the sight of your gloved hand.

You’re singing. He can lip-read you from how close you are, and he can feel how warm you actually are — from the stage lights most likely. But most importantly, Jeong-Hyun can smell you.

That haunting smell of rare flowers blooming under the moonlight, hidden in their own utopia away from mankind. You smile at him, sweet and coy and insincere. This was just a transaction to you after all.

He brings his knees closer together, the bump of his throat bobs. You rest your hand on the collar of his jacket, leaning down and whispering the lyrics the song into his ear/microphone.

You're new to this place.

None of the other 'entertainers' dared to place hands on Jeong-Hyun. He wasn't fond of strangers invading his space, despised it really, and he had no problems letting it show. Yet, as though under a spell, he does nothing as you brush a hand to his chest.

Your voice echoing sin, your breath causing his mishappen ear to redden as his sullen skin flushes. When you pull back, he expects to see at least a smidge of disgust.

He wouldn't fault you for it. His years growing up inside of a dog fighting ring had not left him looking pretty  — his teeth were exposed on the left side of his face. Skin ripped off after a particularly rough day with an adrenaline-pumped mutt. His left eye was milky, perpetually tugged back from the scarring, there'd also been the pinkish scar across his neck. That'd been man-made, and you had probably felt the way it dipped and caved like a canyon across his skin.

The reason he wears gloves was because of the other scars too. Chunks of flesh missing, divots, messily stapled fingers.

Jeong-Hyun was a beast. He expects to be treated like one.

You smile at him. Lips parting to show just a sly of teeth, curled lashes making the stars in your eyes shine brighter as you peer down at him. There's just the slightest wisps of steam coming off your skin from the stage light behind you, but you seem completely unbothered by this.

His pupil constrict into slits when he feels your gloved hand trace upwards, grasping onto your wrist so harshly he sees your brows twinge in pain. Yet, you continue to sing. His grip doesn't loosen, keeping you awkwardly in place.

The show must go on.

He's held your wrist away from his neck, but your fingers stretch and his shock is written across his grotesque face. They stroke faintly on the underside of his chin  — a brush, a featherlight touch.

You use his shock to your advantage. As his grip falters, you swiftly slip your hand away and turn your back to him.

"Are you alright?" Seo-Yun speaks from his side. Watching him as he stares at you climbing back on stage, the left side of his face was harder to read. But she can tell he's clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring.

But he wasn't angry. Not the slightest bit.

It was no surprise Jeong-Hyun missed a few important milestones due to his childhood. Of course, Seo-Yun had hired the best doctors to rectify that and for the most part, he's been acclimating just nicely. But complicated emotions always escapes him. Instincts often wins over for Jeong-Hyun.

You were the first person in his life that had made him feel no fear  — you made him feel unabashed desire.

Ideally, you'd prefer to perform in a proper bar. One with less shady figures. Where the men with tattoos aren't so shameless in showing off the knife sheaths near their waist. But it's tough to be a singer in this day and age. Bills, bills and more bills.

Not to mention loan sharks.

You don't understand why fate had decided to put you through these battles  — to make your father pass and graciously leaving you with nothing but his debts. It royally pissed you off. People tell you to not speak ill of the dead, but fuck him.

You hadn't been rolling in dough before he decided to drop dead but you'd been fine. Living in a small, closet-like, apartment near your college; working part-time here and there and then busking at night. Life hadn't been easy but it'd been simple.

Now? You were here in a room full of the scum of the Earth. You didn't even want to imagine what they do for a living. You were just grateful that you'd been hired here  — the pay was enough to keep the loan sharks from banging onto your poor door and splashing red paint all over your entrance. You had to drop out but you can always continue once you survive this.

Because that's all that matters now. Surviving.

So even if you're pulled into the lap of some gangsters lap or have your nape be grabbed at as you sing and twirl around the room in a true Jessica Rabbit-esque fashion, you endure.

Because you'd rather be groped than be dead.

You deserved to be alive, goddammit.

At least you weren't like the other omegas 'entertainers' in the room. You didn't think yourself as above them, not at all, but you were grateful your shady contract didn't mention any backroom work.

Tonight, like most nights, began with the curtains raising to reveal you. The  — in all the ways that count  — untouchable omega in his sparkling outfit of feathers and velvet. You sing and dance, walk down the stage to the wolf-whistles of many, and make your way through the room.

A few familiar faces stick out. The man with the lip scar grips your waist as you walk past and you look at him from over your shoulder, pretending to be delighted at the sight of him uncrossing his legs to show the tent in his pants.

Pig.

Then, there, at the more VIP tables. A woman in a red dress, surrounded by other omegas all fawning over her. Next to her, an imposing figure.

His profile was so beautiful. His nose had a subtle curve, the tip more round than sharp, and his strong brows complimenting the deep-high crease of his double eyelid. Such a strong jaw, inky black hair tousled but in the way that makes him look like a boy rather than a gangster.

With his legs spread, and his broad shoulders. His gloved hands crossed over his chest. You place yourself between his knees and when he turns you're momentarily caught off guard.

Holy. Fuck.

You'd seen scars before. Missing fingers, milky eyes, nicked lips, tattoos having a streak of pink flesh forever ruining it. This guy must've royally pissed someone off to have his fucked up like that. Despite that, as his good eye processes you're in front of him, he clams up like a shy school girl.

No slimy smirk, no rough hands gripping at your ass, no flare of scent. His cheeks are dusted with pink and his mouth gapes. When you touch him, he stiffens just slightly, but he keeps his hands to himself. Behind you, the bassist's fingers stutter, missing his rhythm for a split second before smoothly recovering.

Leaning in, you continue to sing right into his good ear, feeling the scars on his chest through the thin shirt. Which gives your nimble fingers to the chance to feel the leather straps he had and your eyes widen.

Fuck, he must be some sort of legend here, huh? Sitting in VIP, having a fucking gun on him.

You glance at the woman behind him and you suck in a quick breath as she narrows her eyes at you. The girls around her all shoot you concerned expressions, lips pursing as they ping-pong between you and the scarred man beneath you.

Oh, shit. Were they together or something?

You pull away, attempting to keep your heart calm as you continue to play off this entire act as smoothly as you can. Lifting your hand upwards, just to tease his Adam's apple and then turn away.

But the second your hand is past his collarbones, he reacts. His grip is deadly. Your bones wheeze under the pressure and the leather gloves he wears creak along with it.

Be calm, you tell yourself. He can't shoot you in the middle of a show in front of everyone...can he?

Cold sweat beads down the back of your neck. Still, you keep your composure.

The show must go on.

He looks at your face and falters, so you offer his chin a quick brush as thanks before you swiftly turn to walk away. Your heart racing in your chest. The stage, the stage is safe.

Not if he decides to shoot you from there, you think solemnly. You shoot him another glance, and your gazes clash together. His hands are on his lap, gripping his knees instead. Far away from his gun.

You're safe.

You're safe.

You're safe.

The curtains close and you close your eyes, placing a hand over your chest as you grip onto the microphone stand. A hand grabs at your shoulder and you barely suppress the yelp when it spins you around. It's the bassist, a tall lanky alpha with his wavy hair always neatly slicked back. The entire band is standing, making their way to you with concern so evident between the crease in their brows.

"Are you fucking stupid?"

Instantly, their concern makes you annoyed. You smack his hand away and frown. You put the microphone back in its place and take out your in-ear, sighing tiredly as you walk past them.

"No, I'm not stupid, hyung." He chases after you behind stage, his bass still slung across his neck.

"Then you must be suicidal! Do you know who the hell you just groped?" Your shoulders raise and your cheeks warm. You turn to glare at him, tugging away that stupid feathered boa and scowling.

"I didn't fucking grope anyone! Shit, what's the big fucking deal? I didn't know he had a girlfriend, or wife, or madam, okay?" He shakes his head and takes steps towards you, hands raise as he emphasizes his shock.

"That's Kim Jeong-Hyun. Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun. And the woman behind him? That's his sister, Kim Seo-Yun."

"Ha-Joon-hyung, there's a million fucking Kim's in this country. Gangsters don't have a gangster-pedia, I don't know who they are, nor do I care," you say exasperatedly. Ha-Joon's hands flap around wildly for a moment as he stutters, trying his hardest it seemed to not just grab your shoulders and shake you around.

"Hyung, I'm really tired  — " you turn " — and I'm not interested in knowing who they are. I'll just avoid them next time, okay? I've got an early shift tomorrow, see you."

Ha-Joon's hands drop to his side as he stares at you walking away.

"...He's fucking crazy...that kid is fucking crazy..."

A week or so after that, your life continues as normal. Your legal part-time job had been uneventful. Not much customers, and the few that were there had been polite. You hope your shady part-time job was as mundane. Arriving through the back of a seafood restaurant, you greet the dishwasher who'd been smoking as he crouched under a flickering light.

"Hey, got any leftovers from tonight?" he nods, offering you a smile as he stands. "Got some packed away for you already, left it in your room."

You beam up at him, thanking him and slipping under his arm when he opens the door for you. The restaurant was winding down, cleaning up and preparing the drunkards that'll meander in. You greet a few familiar faces, expertly getting out of their way until you finally reach the door that leads you underground.

Your room was tiny. A vanity squeezed in with one flimsy rack of clothes and a poorly ventilated bathroom. You find your dinner awaiting you and eagerly sit down to feast. But then something catches your eye.

Flowers were normal. Not wanted but easy to get rid off.

These were not flowers. You stared at the box for a moment. Chocolates? No. It's a wide box. A lot of chocolates? Sighing, you reach over and stare at the unfamiliar logo on the box, picking up the note it came with.

Keep u safe - K. JH

You blink a few times as you stare at the messy handwriting. When you look at the box again, you are torn between feeling relief that you hadn't pissed him off and feeling a bit scared that you'd apparently caught his eye. When opened, the box reveals a fucking knife. Not an ordinary kitchen knife either. It was a proper fucking knife — for hunting. Animals and people. The blade was shining under the bulbs of your vanity; the handle rough and hefty and dark. You drop the lid, taking a step back only to stiffen as a familiar voice speaks from behind you.

"Fucking weirdo, right?"

"Boss!" You turn and bow at the waist, he regards you with a smile and nod. You straighten up and turn your attention to the fucking knife on your desk sitting all pretty and safe. Next to it seemed to be its sheath, along with some sort of straps.

He bought you the whole fucking set?

"What kind of alpha gifts an omega a fucking knife? Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun, that ugly bastard," he enters the already too small room and you bump into the clothing rack to give him room. He lifts the knife and whistles, eyeing the sharp edge.

"...Do you wanna take it?" you wonder as you watch his face from the mirror. He cringes, tilting his head and hissing through his teeth as he uses the mirror to glance your way too. "And lose my fucking hand? Hell no. If any of his sisters men sees me with this? I'm as good as dead."

He slips the knife into its sheath, carefully putting it back in the box then kicking the fallen lid to your feet. He notices your dinner and picks up the plastic bowl, taking the lid off and taking a sniff. He leans on the table and shamelessly grabs the plastic spoon in the plastic to take a bite.

"I forgot to tell you not to get in their way, my mistake. I thought with a face that ugly you'd be too scared to get close anyways." He speaks through mouthfuls of rice. You lose your appetite.

"Who is he, sir?" you shifted your weight from one foot to another. He chews, swallowing thickly then answers.

"His sisters monster. Her hellhound. Nobody has any idea what hole those two freaks crawled out of, but they've been killing entire fucking gangs in the 3 years they're here. Entire bloodlines." He points the spoon your way, splashing some soup your way and you flinch as some rice sticks to your cheek. You frown, he ignores it.

"3 years, fucking insane! Burning down buildings, painting entire towns red until the leader puts his head on the floor and submits. Fucking brats, she doesn’t even use honorifics when speaking to me. That bitch."

Okay, perhaps you should have listened to Ha-Joon.

"You know I heard that once he cut off someone's arms and legs and left them crawling on the ground? Sicked his dogs on them. Heard that poor bastard's dick got torn off by some German Shepherd."

Your appetite was officially gone and your face was surely a shade of green now. He glances at the box again, shaking his head as he takes another hefty bite of your dinner.

"He give a note or something?" You squeeze the card in your hand and slip it behind you. He scoffs as you shake your head. "Yeah, thought so. 'pparently he's dimwitted. Just stay away from him next time, yeah? Hurts my heart just thinkin' of your pretty face getting ripped apart."

He pats your shoulders as he walks out. Well, there goes your dinner. For a moment, you take a moment to process what you’d been told before you reread the note in your hand.

Keep u safe — K.JH

After that night, like some ironic joke, you haven't felt safe. You feel followed. Everywhere you went, you were certain someone was there to watch. In the beginning, when the hairs on your neck prickled in the middle of your part-time job of serving people food, you thought that it was just paranoia. But then, then, you start seeing them.

Men in black caps and face masks. Women with their phone camera always tilted your way. Just in your peripheral, always avoiding your gaze and smoothly slipping away when they know that you know.

That knife was still in its box, you refused to use it. Keeping it under your bed out of all places. But lately, you swear all you can think about when you're at home is how its just right there.

Keep u safe.

Did he know something you didn't? Was he actually just trying to give you a fighting chance against these pro-stalkers? Or were you losing your goddamn mind and the stress was getting to you?

A month of this and you were already contemplating carrying a weapon that'd just get you in more trouble. What did you know about handling a knife like that?

You were scared of nicking your knuckles whenever you were cooking. Did he think you would just magically understand how self-defense worked?

You knocked on Ha-Joon's door. He's been expecting you so he opens with no trepidation. You had a backpack and a duffel bag, greeting him politely and he allows you inside his home. It's nothing grand but he had a guest bedroom and he pitied you enough.

"Thanks, hyung" he shuts the door behind you and sighs. "Don't mention it."

He was a scaredy cat but he couldn't let you keep this up. You'd been sleeping in the room backstage, putting on more concealer and constantly gazing off into nothingness. One of the band members had offered you cocaine and the second he saw you even contemplating it he knew you were at your wits end.

It's one thing to keep gangsters entertained, it's another to be dirtying your hands with the same filth.

He leads you to your room, hoping that sleeping under the same roof as another person would give your anxieties some reprieve.

You place your things down and sit at the edge of the bed, swaying a bit and he bids you goodnight for now.

When the curtains raise, he's there. Right there. In front of you, looking up at you. His sister was nowhere in sight. Instead, there's a pack of men and women behind of him. They're not even looking at you, they have other omegas or betas hanging off their arms and seem intent on keeping their gaze away from you.

He's staring at you. Tilting his head slowly, the left side of his face kept hidden in the shadows and you try to keep your heart calm but when he looks at you like that — like he wants to swallow you whole.

The lyrics slip your mind, so you play it off by glancing at the band instead and moving your body to the beat.

Breathe, you remind yourself. You're fine, you're okay, you're safe.

The flash of gore erupting behind your eyelids with every blink was not helping. Your imagination runs wild, conjuring the image of a human torso wriggling desperately on the ground as dogs viciously ripped into him as he screamed.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling sharply as you shakily bring the microphone to your lips. Don't tremble, don't let your voice waver. The boss was going to cut your pay if you fuck up.

When you turn to face the crowd again, Jeong-Hyun isn't looking at you anymore. He's signing to the man closest to him, his movements short and concise. The man, who wore sunglasses, nods and then stands. He disappears into the crowd.

You slip down from the stage, as per your routine, and feel instantly trapped. The pack of his men were like maze walls, cold and uninterested. When you approached, they curl their lips in a quick huff, turning their head away and your hand hangs in the air dejectedly. The prize at the end of the maze was obvious. He was waiting for you, looking at you from over his shoulder as you feebly attempted to find someone else anyways.

It was beginning to look pathetic. Every time you did attempt to head over to the leering alphas in the back, you found long legs blocking your way.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

You put a smile on your face and float to his side. He doesn't smile, doesn't leer, he fucking blushes. Your brows twitch but you place a hand on his shoulder and move to sit on his lap. He instantly moves to keep you steady, hand floating away from your waist and you wonder if the stalkers were truly his doing.

What kind of mobster is he? Surely a 'hellhound' would be more vicious in their pursuit. You press your chest to his shoulder, curling one hand behind him and brushing his untainted skin. He faces you and his eye was glimmering like molten gold.

When you brush under his jaw — being wary of his neck — he lashes tremble. His gaze softening at once. You experimentally cup his cheek, and he all at once leans into your hold; like a puppy.

You're stunned.

Keep u safe.

There's no way these strange men and women were because of him. It's not like he's the first person to send you gifts — although he is the first person to send you a fucking knife as a gift — and you do interact with dangerous people nightly. Perhaps he really did mean well. In his own weird way. You continue to sing on his lap and he looks up at you like you're the moon.

Monster? Him?

Perhaps the sleep deprivation and working yourself to your bones is starting to cloud your judgement but you reach behind and guide his hand closer.

He can feel it. The shape of the sheath and hilt, just under the slit of your long-dress. Not an ideal place, it’s too high. If you attempted to use it, the fur coat you wore would get in the way and you'd be wasting precious seconds. He flicks his gaze to your thighs and you can feel his gloved hands lift your dress. You squeeze your thighs, eyes widening in alarm but that deadly grip keeps you still.

He pulls the dress up and slips it over your unarmed thigh. The fur coat you wore is keeping it all concealed, so he slips his finger underneath the top band around your thigh.

Too fucking tight, Jesus Christ.

He tugs and your thighs jerk. He fixes it one-handed, seamlessly loosening it and tightening it just right. Your leg tingles in relief. The lower band is still the same, so he loosens it and tenderly strokes the hexagonal pattern that pressed into your skin. Then he fixes the knife, pulls it down so the hilt won't get stuck and just as you finish your song he slips the dress back in place and his hands float away.

When you stand, his eyes flutters close when you brush your wrist across his cheek; he takes a deep inhale and stares at you. If he could, he’d put your scent in a bottle. To savour forever. That mountain peak, that valley of rare flowers — his and only his.

Jeong-Hyun stares up at you. Honey and milk-coloured eyes glowing like the moon.

There's flowers waiting in your room this time. Dark red flowers, an unusual bouquet of exotic flowers. You shut the door behind you and inspect them, noting the card slipped between the petals.

Pretty like u — K. JH

This was a significant improvement from the knife. Your thighs prickle at the memory of his touch and you shake your head. Sitting down, you lean in to take a whiff and the blend of scents makes your ears warm. That base, a woody blend of oak and ash; a constant burning ember.

It smells like Jeong-Hyun. Kim fucking Jeong-Hyun.

He was strange. From his scribbly handwriting to his muted self; the scars on his face and body; the bashfulness he exhibits; the attentiveness he provides you with.

Those big hands adjusting the gift he gave you. Silent, admiring, courteous.

You place your arms on the desk and melt onto it, brows furrowed.

There’s no way you would ever catch yourself falling for him. You weren’t jetting to be some helpless omega ensnared in some mob romance. This wasn’t going to happen. You could imagine fucking him or being sweet with him, but could that actually happen?

You’ve had enough with loan sharks and now weird stalkers.

You just wanted to survive.

Shutting your eyes, you hide your face in your arms.

Just survive.

Everything will die down soon enough. Still, as you move to remove your coat and undress yourself — the sight of the knife holstered to your thigh as you stand naked in the mirror, it stirs something in your hindbrain. Your inner-omega, that stupid little shit, was incredibly pleased. Goosebumps spread as you remember his touch and you inch closer to the mirror.

You slip a finger under the strap and shudder. The flowers scent had permeated through the tiny room and you feel like he’s here. All over you. Close enough to feel how he burns.

Bowing your head, you curse under your breath. Slick was beginning to appear and you can’t risk stinking up this room. It’s a stupid risk and you aren’t fucking stupid. Not a damsel omega in distress.

Your stomach howling in hunger distracts you enough. Reaching for your casual wear, you hurriedly dress and shove the knife into your backpack. You glance over at the flowers as you open the door.

“...Fuck.”

The bouquet box is small enough to fit under your arm but not small enough to be inconspicuous. So you don’t flinch when the guy who guards the backdoor of the restaurant asks if you need him to dispose of it.

“Nah, these are way too nice!” you chirp out. At this, he pauses and raises his thick brow. Flustered, you bid him goodbye and rush to Ha-Joon’s idling car.

Pretty or not, you know how people would see it. An omega accepting an alphas gifts, twice now, was an obvious sign that the courting was being accepted. Ha-Joon’s displeasure at the sight of flowers was so obvious you send him a pleasing look he disregards.

“You’re really losing your head...”

“I’ll throw ‘em out! But not here, okay? What if he sees I do and he turns me into a human stick?” Ha-Joon’s face turns white and he mutters that you have an active imagination. But your lame reasoning has him reluctantly nodding so you count it as a win.

Unbeknownst to you, the sight of that bouquet under your arm had already made Jeong-Hyun’s heart flutter. He watches as Ha-Joon’s car drives off, hidden in the shadows as he takes special notice of his license plate.

You were accepting his gifts. His knife and his flowers. Jeong-Hyun felt his lips twitching and he pushed himself off the rough walls to continue keeping his eyes on the car. A lightness in his step that dissipates as he takes notice of an unnerving sight. The headlights of a car in the alleyway across from him.

Rationale should tell him this was most likely just a coincidence but his instincts bare its teeth. The car pulls out and goes along the same road that Ha-Joon’s had. He huffs through his nose, brows furrowed.

Trouble.

Jeong-Hyun’s knuckles whiten as he imprints the car's license plate to his memory.

Danger.

When it escapes from his sight, he turns sharply on his heel and makes his way to his own car. He gets inside, grinding his teeth together as he fishes his phone out from his jacket.

Keep u safe.

[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-The Pack

Series Master list | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Disclaimer: The names and faces used here are just that, names and faces, and in no way reflect the real people the characters are based after. The actions, views, personalities and characteristics of these characters do not in any way shape or form reflect the real Stray Kids. This story is all for fun so please keep it that way.

Background: This story takes place in an alternate universe where everyone presents as 1 of 3 sub-genders, Alpha, Beta, Omega. Omegas became a rarity after a disease almost wiped them out and the world has been slowly trying to repopulate them ever since. Omegas are normally sold to packs as possessions and are for the whole pack to use. Most packs only have one omega if any unless a pup is presented as one which they are groomed to be the perfect submissive omega for a pack to buy. But some rare omegas don't go through that, this is that story.

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list for this series

Christopher Bang Chan- Alpha (Pack Alpha / Pack Leader) 27

Chan helps run his fathers business in the Korean Office with his fathers business partners son after deciding to move there from Australia. The 2 created their small pack named SKZ located a bit outside of Seoul and helps take care of a small town. Chan's a pack and family man, having become more understanding and protective of omega's after his younger brother presented as one and takes care of everyone even if it means neglecting his own needs.

Lee Minho- Alpha 26

Minho is hard to read. He can come off as cold and distant to outsiders but in the pack he's actually the caretaker type. He's the main cook for the pack and just seems to know how all of his pack mates are feeling and what they need. Before meeting the pack he was a backup dancer for a K-pop group called BTS and have since become a dance teacher at a big prestige dance studio in Seoul.

Seo Changbin- Alpha (Head alpha / 2nd in command) 25

Changbins father ran an office in Seoul with his business partner in Australia (Chan's dad). Changbins father stepped down and decided to let Changbin and Chan run the Korean office. Together with Chan they slowly formed their pack, becoming protective of his packmates. He's Chan's second in command and will do anything to protect his pack. Even though he's seen as the muscle and tough guy of the pack, he's actually one of the sweetest and the pack all collectively agree that he gives the best hugs and comfort.

Hwang Hyunjin- Beta (Head Beta) 24

Hyunjin is a hopeless romantic but has shielded his heart because of it having been hurt too many times. Because of this he's possessive of his fated mates and doesn't take too kindly to new people. He was even cautious with each of his pack mates having to take time to accept all of them. And it took him even longer when their pack was betrayed by one of their own. Because of this he's a great head beta and often time used as one of the mediators. He can be found teaching art classes in the towns community center once a week.

Han Jisung- Beta 24

Jisungs one of the most helpful and supportive of everyone, even if he doesn't even believe in himself. Even as a beta he still has some omega tendencies. He stives to please the people he loves. At first he can be shy and introverted but around is pack he's always talking and joking. He has some insecurities the pack helps with as well as mental health but he tries to not let that stop him, especially when his true mates remind him how amazing he is.

Lee Felix- Beta 24

Felix is the most omega like beta you will ever meet. His family was honestly surprised when he presented as a beta instead. They joke that his and and his sister (who did present as an omega even though she's more beta like) had somehow mixed up their sub-genders. The pack was always okay with not having a true omega as they felt they already had one with him around. No one can ever say no to him as he's just a ray of sunshine that brightens the packs lives. He will nest for not only himself but also for his pack and can be found in the kitchen along side Minho.

Kim Seungmin- Beta 24

Seungmin pays attention better than anyone in the pack. He's observant of everyone around to make sure his pack isn't in any type of danger. All though one of the youngest he knows how to assert his dominance when needed. Along with Hyunjin he's a great mediator for the pack. He has a passion for baseball and is the coach for the local towns little league team.

Yang Jeongin- Alpha 23

Jeongins the youngest member of the pack and a late presenter. It took time and a lot of help from his alpha hyungs to control his tendencies and he looks up to all of them because of it striving to be as great as they are. It also helped that one of his brothers presented as an omega allowing him to understand what it's like to protect one. Although he's the least experienced in the pack he's devoted.

Y/n- Omega 23

Information given as the story goes

[catiuskaa]

𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐡.

from: love bites burns.

chapters: intro / EP 1 / EP 2 /

short syn. a drunk call brings a certain Seo Changbin back into your life, and an argument follows—sharp, charged, and laced with something neither of you is ready to name—, things is, the line between comfort and something more —desire?— has already begun to blur.

wc. 17.4k

cw. fire and rescue situations (mentions of injury, trauma, and life-threatening scenarios), emotional distress, grief and loss, strong language, alcohol use, heated argument, movie slander, steamy + romantic scenes.

a/n. HAPPY B-DAY MI AMOR! @knowbites ‼️🎂 PORQUE ES UNA CHICA EXCELENTE, Y QUE CUMPLA MUCHOS MÁS! 🎀🗣️🎉🎊

[♦️☆🔥☆♦️]

You’re living in your mother’s apartment while she’s away. The furniture is the same as it’s always been, the walls still lined with the same pictures, but it doesn’t feel like home. Not really. Not when none of it belongs to you.

Your mother’s clothes are folded neatly in the drawers, so you wear them because your own things are packed away somewhere you don't want to go back to —if not burned and in a permanent charcoaled state. Your mother’s perfume lingers in the air, so you smell it every time you turn your head. But it’s not your scent. None of this is yours.

The emptiness inside you only grows more precarious whenever you think about him.

A week after the fire, you find yourself at a friend’s place.

You don't remember agreeing to come. Maybe you said yes automatically, maybe you didn’t say anything at all and just ended up here, sitting on the couch with a drink in your hand, surrounded by voices you aren’t really listening to. You know what they’re talking about, regardless.

They’re talking about weddings. And fiancés. And future homes with spacious kitchens, and choosing between white and off-white linens, and how stressful it is to find a good caterer.

You barely notice the words. The laughter. The way everyone is so present in their own lives.

Your fingers tighten around the cool glass in your hand, the condensation damp against your skin. Someone says something that makes the whole room break into giggles, but you don't hear it. You just watch the way their faces light up, the way they lean toward each other like gravity keeps pulling them back together. Like it always will.

No one has asked you about the bandage on your arm. No one has asked you why you look so tired. No one has noticed anything.

At all.

You let the conversation drift around you, untethered, until eventually you stand to leave. It’s only then that the host —smiling, unaware— presses a bottle of cheap wine into your hands.

“Please, take this,” she says with an easy grin. “My fiancé hates cheap wine.”

You don't argue. You can’t be bothered to listen about the expensive tastes of her soon-to-be-husband. With a fake grin, you just take the bottle and step outside.

No one notices you aren't driving. It’s because you don't need to, your mother’s place is closer than the apartment you used to call home.

So you walk. And somewhere along the way, you open the bottle.

The streets are quiet. Not empty, but quiet. The kind of quiet that settles deep in your chest, where the only real sound is the occasional passing car or the distant hum of the city still moving without you, and each step you make echoes as the sound of your heeled boots make a rhythm for your walk of shame back home —no sex included, because this shame is entirely yours. The street lights flicker in places, casting long, uneven shadows against the pavement. The air is thick with the smell of late-night rain, though the sky is dry now, leaving the asphalt damp and glistening under the orange glow of the lamps.

Your mother’s house isn’t far. You know the way well. The same streets you used to walk as a teenager, coming back late from parties you didn’t want to be at. Like this one, too. Except now, you’re not sure if you even want to be anywhere.

You grip the bottle a little tighter and take another sip.

The wine is bad. Too sugary, clinging to your throat like syrup. You wince, but drink more anyway, the burn in your stomach keeping you company as you step over a crack in the sidewalk.

The city still moves. People still live their lives. The world didn’t stop just because yours tilted.

“Doesn’t matter,” you mutter under your breath. The words slip out before you can stop them.

You take another swig and exhale hard. The weight in your chest doesn’t lift. The houses you pass all look the same, warm light behind drawn curtains, the soft glow of television screens, shadows of people moving inside. Normal people. People who are home and feel home. People who belong.

“Maybe I should’ve asked them if they wanted to stay,” you say to no one in particular, the words slurring slightly as you laugh, a short, breathy thing that barely escapes past your lips before dissolving into the stillness of the night. You shake your head and let your fingers run against the cool glass of the bottle, watching as the liquid inside sways with your movements. “Or maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked anyone anything at all, maybe I should’ve just let it be, let it end right there at the hospital instead of standing here thinking about a guy I barely even know, because seriously, what kind of person says something like call me when you want someone to stay and then—”

You stop walking.

You blink at the ground, swaying slightly on your feet.

“—and then leaves?!”

The words feel heavy in your mouth, heavier than they should, heavier than you want them to be. And you hate it —you really do—, because you’re not supposed to feel like this over someone you just met, someone who was supposed to be a name in a report, just another face you’d forget, just—just someone.

But he’s not. And it’s pissing you off.

“That’s so stupid,” you tell the sidewalk, picking up your pace again. “Like, what, was that supposed to be some profound moment? Some life-altering, deep, poetic bullshit? ‘Call me when you want someone to stay,’” you repeat in a low, mocking voice, scrunching your nose. “Oh, sure, and then what? What if I had called right then and there, huh? What was he gonna do, tell me he couldn’t stay? That it was all just some dumb thing to say in the moment, because he felt like saying it, because he felt something for a split second and then decided it wasn’t worth sticking around for?”

You stop again. Your breath stumbles out of you.

The wind feels colder now, slipping through your clothes and biting at your skin, and you suddenly feel small, standing in the middle of the street like this, drunkenly arguing with the night. Your grip tightens around the bottle.

You shouldn’t have let him leave.

The thought pushes itself forward, uninvited. And you hate that it’s true.

By the time you reach the apartment building, your steps are clumsier, your mind fogged over with cheap wine and exhausted frustration. You keep drinking anyway, as if the solution to a question you aren’t asking —a problem you created by yourself— is waiting for you at the end of the glass bottle. You drink as you step through the familiar front door, kicking off your shoes in a way that sends them skidding across the floor. Drink as you slide down onto the hardwood, phone in hand, fingers fumbling as you pull it from your pocket.

A slip of paper flutters down with it.

You stare at it. The handwriting. The torn edge.

Your eyes narrow.

Oh.

Oh, no fucking way.

It takes your dizzy brain a few seconds to catch up, to fully process who those numbers belong to, who you have been dragging around in your pocket like some kind of pathetic safety net, who—

And then it hits you. “The sexy firefighter, the cute one with the fluffy hair and glasses,” your heart giggles, smiles and swoons at the mental image your brain does.

Seo Changbin.

Something inside you snaps.

“Oh, fuck this,” you mutter, half a laugh, half a growl, as you clumsily grab for your phone again. “No, no, no, this is not happening. I am not gonna sit here and let this—this man—walk around thinking he can just drop some poetic bullshit on me and then leave like it was nothing—like it was just—” You swipe at your screen, blabbering nonsense, struggling to focus. “Like I wasn’t there, too.”

The wine sloshes dangerously, the liquid in the bottle almost as slurry as your speech as you gesture wildly to absolutely no one, your head spinning as you try to keep your balance on the floor.

“Oh, I’m calling him,” you announce to the empty apartment, the bitterness in your throat stronger than the alcohol. “I’m calling him right now.”

Your thumb hovers over the dial button.

“I’m gonna call him, and I’m gonna—gonna tell him off—I’m gonna tell him he’s a bitch for leaving, for just—just walking out like I wasn’t—like we weren’t—” You stop, your breath uneven. Your chest aches. "Like we weren't… something."

Your vision blurs slightly as you blink hard, your lip pulling into a wobbly, frustrated sneer. “I should’ve said something, shouldn’t I? I should’ve—made him stay.”

You glare at the number on your screen.

Something hot coils in your chest—frustration, maybe, or something closer to grief.

You blame him for leaving. You blame yourself for letting him leave.

“So that’s how we’re going at it, huh?” You mumble.

Fine.

If you couldn’t make him stay, then you were at least going to make sure he was fully aware.

And before you can second-guess yourself, before you can let the quiet settle in again, before you can think too hard about it, you press the number into your phone and call.

[.]

It’s a bit late, but that’s okay.

It’s a routine event. A school visit, a station tour—kids getting to play firefighter for a day. He’s done this dozens of times before. The little boy in front of him wobbles under the weight of his helmet, grinning, and his friend beside him tugs excitedly on Changbin’s sleeve.

“Can we slide down the pole?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not today, champ. That’s just for real emergencies.”

The kids groan in unison, but it’s all in good fun. Their teacher smiles, and Changbin stands, adjusting his turnout jacket as he moves to the next part of the tour, one that is close to ending.

“Sir?”

A girl tugs on his sleeve, big brown eyes peering up at him. “How do you turn on the siren?”

He blinks. His mind is elsewhere for a second, but he smiles. Clears his throat. Focus, Seo.

“Oh, this is fun,” he says, crouching. “Want to try for yourself?”

The little girl giggles, nodding, and Changbin picks her up, guiding her little hand to the switch. The siren wails to life, high-pitched and sharp, and the kids squeal in delight. He sometimes grows annoyed at the sound, but the kid in his arms grins like she just won the lottery. As he puts the girl down, her friend beside her tugs at Changbin’s sleeve.

“Can we slide down the pole now?”

Changbin laughs, shaking his head. “Sorry kiddo, that’s just for emergencies.”

“Aw, man.” The boy huffs, crossing his arms. “What if we pretend it’s an emergency?”

“You planning on setting something on fire?”

That startles them. Their eyes widen as they hurriedly shake their heads, and Changbin grins, ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Didn’t think so.”

The other firefighters are leading other small groups through the different sections of the station, showing them the equipment, letting them climb into the trucks. It’s a routine thing, one that used to bring him nothing but amusement. But today, there’s something restless sitting in his chest, something that makes him feel like he’s only half here.

One of the teachers calls the kids back into a circle, warning them that the bus will get back shortly, and Changbin steps aside, rolling his shoulders.

His gaze drifts.

His phone screen stays dark in his pocket.

Three times now. He’s checked it three times. And for what? It’s not like he expects anything. Not… really. It’s been a week. You’re probably fine. You’re probably—

“You look serious.”

Changbin turns, finding Chan leaning against the truck, arms crossed, watching him with that annoying knowing look of his.

“It’s my face,” Changbin replies dryly, pouting in fake annoyance.

Chan snorts. “Yeah, right.” He nods toward the group. “You good, though? You seem distracted.” Which is the polite way of saying you’ve been acting weird all week.

“I’m fine,” Changbin mutters, but even as he says it, his jaw tightens.

He was going to ask what’s up your ass this morning, but instead, Chan chooses not to push. Just hums, amused, before nodding toward the group. “Wanna drive the truck in a circle for the kids?”

Changbin exhales sharply, “Nah, the teacher told me the bus driver finally answered back. They’ll be leaving too soon for that. Actually, hold on a sec.”

He glances at the group of kids, who are still buzzing with excitement, and makes a split-second decision.

“Alright,” he grins, crouching slightly. “One at a time. Who wants to slide down the pole?”

The kids freeze. Then, all at once—

“REALLY?!”

“NO WAY!”

“NO SNITCHING!”

He giggles, pressing a finger to his lips. “Only if you keep it quiet, yeah?”

They nod furiously.

And so, one by one, Changbin lifts them up slightly over his shoulder, just enough so they can grab onto the pole. He keeps a steady hold on their backs as they slide down, their laughter echoing through the station. Some shriek, others giggle, and one kid yells, “I’M A SUPERHERO!”

Chan watches from the side, shaking his head with a smirk. “Breaking protocol, huh?”

“They bribed me,” Changbin deadpans.

Chan chuckles but doesn’t stop him. The kids are having the time of their lives, and honestly, for a moment, so is Changbin.

“Alright, who’s next?” he calls out.

A girl in a pink jacket eagerly steps forward, gripping his shoulder as he lifts her just high enough for her hands to grasp the pole. Her face flickers between thrill and hesitation, but then she’s sliding down, her giggles bouncing off the walls.

Another boy, this one with a missing front tooth, hops excitedly in place. “Me! Me! Me!”

Changbin scoops him up, lets him feel the rush of sliding down, and by the time the kid’s sneakers hit the ground, he’s laughing so hard his tiny shoulders shake.

“Best field trip ever,” one of them whispers in awe.

Changbin grins. “Told you guys firefighters have the best job.”

“I wanna be a firefighter when I grow up!” another kid declares.

“Me too!”

“I wanna be a dinosaur!”

Chan snorts at that one, crossing his arms as he leans against the truck. “That’s some stiff competition, Binnie.”

Changbin plays along, rubbing his chin in mock contemplation. “Well, firefighting dinosaurs would be pretty cool.”

A few kids gasp as if he’s just revealed a universal truth. One of them immediately turns to their friend. “We could be firefighters and dinosaurs!”

Changbin ruffles the nearest kid’s hair before lifting up another and guiding them down the pole. He’s focused on their joy, on their laughter, on how easy it is to lose himself in the moment—

Until his phone vibrates.

It’s subtle. Barely a buzz in his pocket, almost lost to the noise of the station.

But he notices.

His grip falters, just for a second. He steadies the next kid on the pole and watches them slide down.

It could be anything.

But it could be you.

His chest goes still.

“Mister firefighter? There’s a light on your leg.”

Across the room, Chan catches the way he stiffens. The way his shoulders tense, the way his eyes flicker—not with alarm, not with urgency, but with something quieter. Something unsure.

And somehow, Chan just knows. He claps his hands together, pushing off the truck. “Alright, kids, the bus is here!”

The eager chorus of whiny voices that want to slied down the pole again is the perfect smoke bomb that Changbin needs to leave. Chan doesn’t say anything when they trade spots. He just claps a hand on Changbin’s shoulder as they pass, brief and solid, before seamlessly stepping into his place, and carefully instructing the children to form a line so they can all head out, helping the teacher out. Changbin turns away, phone gripped tight in his hand.

He exhales once, slow and deep.

He swipes to answer.

“…Hello?”

But when you hear his voice, you freeze.

The cheap wine, the anger, the reckless confidence—it all vanishes in an instant. You hadn’t thought this far ahead. Hadn’t expected him to actually pick up. So you just lie there, barefoot on the cold wooden floor of your mother’s living room, phone pressed to your ear, breath caught in your throat.

On the other end, Changbin waits. You can hear the faintest sound of voices in the background—kids, laughter, the echo of a large space. You wonder about his day. About what he has done the past week. As if maybe, him picking up could mean he had also missed you. At least a small bit.

“…Hello?” he says again, softer this time.

His voice. Something about it makes your fingers tighten around the phone. Your chest twists, throat closing up, because you remember—God, you remember—the last time you heard his voice this close.

The warmth of it. The way it filled the silence in a hospital room. The way he had stayed. The familiarity. Like it hasn’t been a week, like it hasn’t been days of silence stretching too far, like you haven’t spent every one of those days trying to ignore the way your chest felt too hollow.

Your breath stutters. The words you had ready—the drunken justifications, the sour anger, or even the casual hey, mister firefighter a part of you thought you’d toss in—die in your throat.

And now you’re here, empty wine bottle on the floor, too many things in your head, and for some godforsaken reason, you’re calling him.

You swallow hard. Your fingers press tighter around the phone. Your heartbeat stumbles, and you wonder if he can hear it through the line. You wet your lips, eyes darting toward the ceiling. The room feels too big. The world feels too quiet.

You exhale, slow.

“Seo Changbin,” you mumble drunkenly, your voice a little hoarse, a little uncertain. Then, after a beat, “…hi.”

And then, Changbin forgets how to breathe.

He has spent the last week convincing himself he wouldn’t hear from you. That maybe the connection he thought you two had was just the heat of the moment—figuratively and literally. That maybe you have already forgotten about him, that you were out there moving on, laughing, living.

But now, you’re here. Not in front of him, not the way his mind had desperately imagined too many times, but here. On the other end of the line. Saying his name in a way that makes his pulse trip over itself.

His grip on the phone tightens. He turns away from the noise of the fire station, the kids, the familiar chaos, and presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose.

What does he say? Does he ask if you’re okay? Does he pretend this is normal? Does he call you out for the way you just disappeared from his life like you weren’t supposed to be there? Can he even do that?

Calm down. Breathe.

He lets out a shaky exhale. Swallows down whatever mess is brewing in his chest, “…hey,” he says back, but it comes out rougher, breathier, like he’s still trying to catch up with himself.

A couple giggles travel through the phone. Changbin hears you laugh, but it’s not light or carefree—it’s fragile, tired, almost breaking apart before it even begins. Then, your voice comes through, soft and unsteady, words tumbling over each other like you’re not quite in control of them.

“I feel so stupid,” you mumble, dragging out the words like they’re heavy. “For calling you. For… clinging. To you.”

You hiccup, sniff, then laugh again, and it’s emptier this time.

“…bet you’ve already moved on, right? Just another… rescue on a file. Some… some girl you carried out of a burning building. That’s… all I am, isn’t it?”

Changbin doesn’t know what to say. He knows that isn’t true, but he isn’t sure if you really want an answer either.

“I drank so much wine,” you continue, like you need to fill the silence. “Because my… my friends, they… are stupid. So… stupid. Talking about… weddings and fiancés and…” you groan. “They didn’t even notice. No one noticed, no one… asked. Not about the bandages, not about the way I…” you cut yourself off with another chuckle, this one sharp and bitter. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this. I just… I feel so… empty.”

Your voice shakes at the end. You sound so small. So lost. And something inside Changbin clenches so tight it almost hurts.

You called him. Out of everyone, him. And now you’re alone and hurting, and he’s standing in the middle of the fire station with your voice in his ear and a storm gathering in his chest. You’re sad because of him, and still, you called.

“I had no one else to call…” your voice falters, barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t…”

You don’t finish.

Changbin hears the way your breath shudders, how you trail off like you’re afraid of saying the rest out loud. Like you don’t even know how to.

And it hits him harder than it should, because maybe he already knew. Maybe he knew from the way you never called anyone at the hospital, from the way you hesitated before signing those discharge papers, from the way you wouldn’t even look at him when you parted ways.

But hearing it now, raw and unfiltered through the haze of wine and loneliness… it does something to him. His grip tightens around the phone.

“I’m here,” he says, before he even realizes he’s speaking. His voice is steady, but something in his chest isn’t. “I’m right here.”

“No, you’re not.”

You giggle drunkenly, but it’s not funny.

“You’re slurring your words, you know that?” He bites his lip.

But when you stop talking, he hears the exhaustion in how you sigh. He swallows dry.

“I think I should come get you.”

“What?” Your tone changes, and you sit up as straight as your drunk body can muster up. “You don’t even know where I am,” you giggle in drunken confusion.

“Okay. Tell me, then.”

“No, no, you can’t,” you insist, suddenly panicking. You don’t even know why you’re saying it—pride? Fear? The sheer vulnerability of the moment?

He asks the question you’re avoiding. “Why not?” His voice stays steady, but inside, he’s spiraling a little.

“Because…” But you don’t have an answer, not one that makes sense.

A beat passes.

The line goes dead.

Changbin stares at his phone, the empty silence ringing louder than anything you’d just said.

You hung up.

He runs a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. His pulse is still racing, a mix of confusion, concern, and something else, something he doesn’t know how to name yet. But before he can even begin to process it, his screen lights up again. A message.

He blinks at it, his breath catching in his throat. It’s an address.

Your address.

His fingers tighten around the phone. His mind catches up a second later, pushing him into motion before he even realizes he’s moving.

Changbin stares at his phone screen, the address glowing up at him like a challenge. His heart is still racing from the way the call ended, from the way you panicked—hung up—but still sent it.

You want him there.

The realization settles deep in his chest, tangled up with the hundred other things he’s feeling. Worry. Confusion. That stupid, stubborn pull toward you that he still doesn’t understand. Fear.

Outside, as the children head up the bus, Chan is still with the kids, crouched beside one of them who’s struggling to open the little playboards the station gifts. The kid raises his arms and hands Chan the board, and Chan ruffles his hair before helping him, opening up the plastic. Then, just as he finishes, he glances up, and sees Changbin heading out.

Chan doesn’t even have to ask. He must catch something in his face, because his mouth quirks up into an amused smirk. Like Changbin is really dull to not have left before. His eyebrows raise just slightly, his smirk widening, and he shrugs him away with a nod of his head.

Leave, he doesn’t say.

Changbin exhales through his nose, shaking his head as he shoves his phone into his pocket and turns toward his motorbike.

Chan chuckles under his breath, refocusing on the kids.

A chorus of excited goodbyes is the last thing Changbin hears, like a soundtrack he needs right then and there to keep moving.

[.]

You stay on the floor longer than you should.

The wine bottle, empty now, rolls lazily across the wooden floor when you shift, the soft clink barely registering through the fog in your mind. Your phone is somewhere near you—maybe on the floor, maybe still in your hand—but you don’t reach for it.

What did you just do?

Your body feels too heavy, your head thick with alcohol and regret. You shouldn’t have called him. Shouldn’t have said any of that. Shouldn’t have sent your address.

Stupid. So, so stupid.

You groan, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. Maybe you should text him and say it was a mistake. Tell him not to come, even when you don’t even know if he will. Maybe he saw the address and decided you weren’t worth the trouble. Maybe he’s already forgotten about you.

Maybe that’s what you deserve. You haven’t had much luck in that aspect, so it wouldn’t really come out as a surprise.

You swallow hard, blinking up at the ceiling, trying to will away the burning behind your eyes. The apartment feels too big, too empty, like a house that doesn’t belong to you. You feel like an intruder in your mother’s life, wearing her clothes, sitting on her floor, like a ghost haunting a place that was never really yours.

You exhale shakily. You should get up. Go to bed.

But your limbs don’t cooperate, and before you know it, your eyes slip shut.

It’s barely a couple minutes before Changbin gets to the apartment complex, the first thing he notices is that your door is slightly open. His heart kicks up.

He doesn’t think. He just moves.

Stepping inside, the air smells faintly of wine, and he spots the empty bottle before he spots you.

You’re on the floor.

His stomach lurches, and he’s kneeling beside you before he even has time to process. “Hey—” He touches your shoulder, shakes you lightly. “Hey, wake up.”

You stir at the contact, your brows furrowing, a soft noise leaving your lips.

He exhales, relief loosening his chest when he realizes you’re just sleeping. Still, seeing you like this does something strange to him. Something that makes his jaw tighten, something that makes him want to be mad at you and pull you close all at once.

He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face before carefully sliding his arms under you. You’re warm. Lighter than he expected.

As he lifts you, you stir again, your lashes fluttering. “Mmm…?”

“Where is your room?” he murmurs, his voice softer than he means it to be.

You blink slowly, dazed, your head lolling against his chest. “Down the hall…”

“Okay,” he says, adjusting his grip on you. “Go back to sleep, gorgeous.”

You exhale, and your body relaxes against him once more.

He holds you closer and walks, careful and quiet, guiding you through the dimly lit apartment. And though he knows he shouldn’t—knows he shouldn’t feel anything about this—he does.

You called him. You sent him your address.

You wanted him here.

And he wants to stay.

Changbin nudges the bedroom door open with his foot, stepping inside. The room is dark except for the soft glow of a streetlamp filtering in through the curtains. It’s tidy. Untouched, almost like you don’t really live here.

He gently lowers you onto the bed, careful not to jostle you too much. But as soon as your back touches the mattress, you stir, a small frown pulling at your lips.

“No…” you mumble, your fingers weakly curling into the fabric of his shirt.

His breath catches. “Hey,” he murmurs, his hand hovering over yours. “You need to sleep.”

You make a quiet, frustrated sound but don’t argue again. Instead, your grip on his shirt loosens, and your hand falls away as sleep pulls you back under.

He exhales, watching you for a moment longer than he should. The way your breathing evens out. The way your lashes flutter slightly, like you’re dreaming already.

Then, with a quiet sigh, he pulls the blankets over you. His fingers brush your wrist as he tucks you in, and he forces himself to pull away.

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing around the unfamiliar room.

His brain screams at him. You should go, it says, over and over, like something is triggering his fight or flight response, and he was a fragile little bird. But he hesitates. Just for a second.

Changbin curses under his breath. He’s being stupid, right? Why should he go? You called him. You wanted him here. And now, even in sleep, your fingers twitch faintly against the blanket, like you’d hold onto him if you could.

His jaw tightens. He runs a hand down his face, exhaling sharply. His instinct tells him to leave, to be responsible, to keep some kind of professional distance—but when has he ever done what he should when it comes to you?

He broke protocol to try and find you. He broke protocol for staying, for wanting to stay. Would breaking it again really be that bad?

He hesitates, watching you carefully, then —tentative, a little reckless— he reaches out and brushes your hair away from your face.

You sigh softly. Relax. And just like that, he knows he’s not going anywhere.

Changbin barely has time to react before your fingers curl around his, warm and loose with sleep, and you tug, pulling him closer, giggling softly as he stumbles forward.

“Hey…” he starts, but it’s useless. You’re stronger than you look, or maybe he just doesn’t have the will to resist.

The bed creaks under your combined weight on only one side as he catches himself on one hand, hovering over you for a second. His heart is pounding. This is—he shouldn’t—

But you just sigh, eyes fluttering half-open, and mumble, “Stay.”

And against all better judgment, he does.

You nuzzle into his chest without a second thought, pressing close like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like you’ve done this so many times before. Like you belong there.

Changbin stiffens. His breath catches.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t let this happen.

But then you sigh, a quiet, content sound, and your fingers curl slightly against his shirt, holding onto him even in sleep. And just like that, all his resolve unravels.

Slowly, carefully, he exhales and lets his arm settle around you, just enough to keep you close. Just enough to let himself stay.

He tries to think logically. Tries to calm down his brain. Why shouldn’t he be here?

Because he’s a firefighter, and you’re someone he rescued. Because this isn’t supposed to happen—victims move on, and so do the people who save them. Because he barely knows you, not really, not in the way that should make his chest tighten at the thought of leaving.

But you’re still holding onto him, even in sleep. And he doesn’t feel like a firefighter right now. He doesn’t feel like someone who’s supposed to move on.

He just feels like someone who wants to stay.

What would plain old Changbin do? He thinks. Not Firefighter Seo, not the guy in uniform who’s supposed to keep things professional. Just Changbin.

And plain old Changbin —stupid, stubborn, too-soft-for-his-own-good Changbin, heart-on-his-sleeve Changbin— would stay.

You sigh, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. It’s not intentional, just the natural weight of you sinking into him, warm and drowsy and tipsy enough to let every thought spill freely.

“You came all this way,” you murmur. “Why are you still acting like a part of you doesn’t want to be here?”

His breath hitches. You don’t see the way his jaw tenses, the way his fingers twitch where they rest against the sheets.

“Shouldn’t I…?” he starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. Shouldn’t he go? Shouldn’t he be the responsible one and keep this rescuer-victim relationship as impersonal as it stands? Shouldn’t he stop himself before he starts something he can’t take back?

Your hand moves, fingertips grazing down his forearm before curling around his wrist. Your grip is loose, gentle, but he feels it like an anchor.

“I don’t get you,” you say, quieter now. “You… you held my hand. You let me fall asleep on your shoulder. You looked at me like…” but you cut yourself off with a shake of your head, laughing softly, more to yourself than to him.

He exhales sharply through his nose. You looked at me like—what? He doesn’t know the answer, but the fact that you noticed at all is enough to make his pulse hammer against his ribs.

You hum, tilting your head slightly, as if searching his face for something. And then your voice turns teasing, but only barely.

“Why did you come, Bin?”

He tenses, mouth parting slightly, but nothing comes out.

“Why did you pick up the phone?” you continue. “Why did you leave work? Why are you here?”

His throat bobs. He wants to say because you called, but that’s not the whole truth, is it?

“You could’ve ignored me.” Your fingers tighten slightly around his wrist. “You could’ve told me to call someone else, or to deal with it. But you didn’t.”

He presses his lips together, gaze dropping to where your hand rests on his.

“So don’t act like it’s just me,” you say, voice soft but certain in only a way alcohol could. “Don’t act like I’m the only one who felt something when you stayed with me that night.”

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to.

Because when he finally looks up, you see everything you need to know.

You sigh again, shaking your head with something unbearably fond.

“Christ,” you murmur, almost amused. “You’re as thick as it gets.”

And then you kiss him. Soft and fleeting, like you don’t expect anything back. Like you just need him to understand.

…

He short-circuits. May-day, we have lost him.

It’s instant, the way his brain completely shuts down, the way every rational thought fizzles out like a blown fuse.

Because you’re kissing him.

You.

Your lips are warm and soft and a little clumsy, but you don’t pull away. You linger, just for a second, like you want to make sure he really gets it, and his body locks up so tight he forgets how to breathe.

His hands hover uselessly, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you. Like if he moves at all, he’ll wake up and this will all have been some kind of fever dream.

Because what the hell is he supposed to do?

Push you away? No, no, he doesn’t want that.

Kiss you back? He—he can’t. He shouldn’t. You’re drunk, and he’s just… blank.

He’s supposed to think, but his brain isn’t working. There’s no protocol for this.

He’s stuck. Frozen. Glitching.

And then, just as fast as it happened, it’s over.

You pull back with a small, satisfied hum, eyes half-lidded, lips curved in a drowsy little smile.

“There,” you mumble, blinking up at him like you haven’t just fried every single synapse in his body. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Are you kidding me?

Changbin stares at you, wide-eyed and completely fried, and he has absolutely no idea what to do next. He can’t help but chuckle incredulously. “Are you doing this on purpose?”

You giggle, tilting your head up to look at him with lidded eyes, lazy and warm. “Whaaaaat? Me?”

Changbin exhales sharply, pressing his lips together, trying to school his expression into something neutral, something that doesn’t betray how badly you’re unraveling him. But it’s impossible when you’re looking at him like that, all mischief and softness, your fingers still loosely curled against his chest.

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, as if that’ll somehow fix the mess he’s in. “You’re impossible.”

You hum, completely unfazed, and nuzzle closer, sighing like you’re content—like being here, tangled up against him, is exactly where you want to be.

He should move. He should. But his body betrays him. Instead, he stays, one arm half-draped over your waist like he’s afraid to let go.

“Just to put it out there,” he mumbles. “If you weren’t drunk, I’d kiss you back.”

You pause, your breath hitching just slightly against his chest. Then, you hum again, but this time it’s different—quieter, softer, like you’re tucking his words away somewhere safe.

Changbin doesn’t dare look at you, staring stubbornly at the ceiling instead, like if he so much as meets your gaze, he’ll do something stupid. Stupider than admitting what’s already plain as day. But then, you shift, just enough to tilt your head up toward him again. Your fingers, warm and a little clumsy, trace absentmindedly over the fabric of his shirt.

“Just to put it out there,” you echo, voice lilting with amusement, “you’re so dense.”

He huffs out a laugh, part exasperation, part disbelief.

“You’re impossible,” you murmur, looking at his lips.

And then you kiss him again. Softer, slower—like you’re proving a point. Like you know that despite the fact that he won’t kiss you back, you just want to anyway. For a moment, he doesn’t move, but his hands end up cradling your face and push you away softly.

“No,” he whines. “That’s unfair. You know I shouldn’t.”

Changbin swallows hard, heart pounding so loud he’s sure you can hear it. His hands are still cradling your face, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones, but they tremble—just barely. He shouldn’t be here. Shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t indulge. But then you look at him like that, all soft and certain, and something inside him breaks.

“But you want to,” you murmur, voice thick with wine and something deeper, something raw. Your mouth turns dry. “Right?”

His breath catches. You’re not wrong.

Changbin’s hands tighten around you, like you might slip away if he lets go. His pulse thrums in his ears, and he can’t stop staring at your lips, the way they’re parted ever so slightly, so close he could just—

“Yeah,” he exhales. It comes out shakier than he wants it to. “I do.”

The confession hangs between you, pressing against his ribs like a secret that should’ve never left his chest. But it’s too late now, and maybe he doesn’t want to take it back.

Your lips curve into a lazy, drunken smile. “Then what’s stopping you?”

His throat tightens. God.

“Because,” he murmurs, eyes flickering down to your mouth again, “you’re drunk. And I don’t—” He shakes his head, exhaling sharply. “Not like this. Please?”

You tilt your head, blinking up at him like you’re trying to see something beyond his eyes, but then your expression softens. Like you do understand.

A sigh escapes your lips, and you lean into his palm, closing your eyes. “Fine,” you whisper. “I’ll let you be good.”

His chest aches. He can’t tell if it’s from relief or something dangerously close to longing. A chuckle slips out, quiet and breathless.

“Cheeky,” he teases.

You hum, pressing closer, not to tempt him, not to push, but just to be there, warm and steady against him. And when your breathing evens out, he stays still, letting you rest.

And letting himself have this moment.

[.]

Changbin sleeps lightly, his body still tense even as exhaustion pulls him under. And then—

Flames. Thick smoke curling through the air. The blaring wail of sirens echoing in his ears.

It’s a memory, not just a dream.

He’s twenty-two, barely a year into the job, still learning how to breathe through the heat, how to silence the fear. The picture is as clear as it was all those years ago. A collapsed building. The kind of wreckage that makes your stomach drop before you even step inside.

Changbin isn’t the one running in. This time, he’s just watching, feeling the dread of a spectator who knows something the protagonist doesn’t. Something that makes said protagonist reek of death. That’s who’s running in.

Senior Firefighter Kang Jisoo. A guy everyone liked, the kind who cracked jokes in the locker room and always had your back in the field.

Except today, something’s different.

“Jisoo—wait!” someone shouts. The building is unstable, the fire too strong. But Jisoo doesn’t stop.

Because there’s someone inside.

It’s not just any victim. A woman.

She wasn’t a stranger. She wasn’t just another person on the rescue reports. She had volunteered for training drills at the station, practicing how to be pulled from burning buildings, letting rookies carry her through simulations. She laughed with them, helped with practice rescues—until one day, it stopped being practice.

And somewhere along the way, Jisoo had let himself care too much.

They weren’t supposed to date. It wasn’t technically against the rules, but he knew it wasn’t right. That it blurred the line between duty and something dangerously personal.

And now—

Now, he watches as Jisoo vanishes into the smoke.

Minutes stretch too long. The building groans, shifts. The chief is yelling at him through the radio.

And then—

The collapse.

Changbin doesn’t remember much after that. Just the sound of sirens, the weight in his chest, the way no one could look each other in the eye.

They pulled Jisoo out hours later.

He didn’t make it.

And maybe it wasn’t just because of her. Maybe he would have run in anyway. But everyone knew. Everyone knew.

The line had blurred. And now he was gone.

The dream twists, pulling him back to the present.

Your voice, slurred and sad. Why do you think I held on to your hand in the hospital?

Changbin wakes with a sharp inhale, chest tight, the weight of memory pressing down hard.

He’s scared. He should go.

The weight of the dream lingers, pressing against his chest like the thick smoke of a fire that won’t clear. He stares at the ceiling, at the faint patterns of light that shift as the city hums outside, but his mind is somewhere else. Stuck in the past.

Kang Jisoo had cared too much. And it got him killed.

It wasn’t something they talked about—not officially, anyway. There was no rulebook warning them about it, no memo reminding them not to get too close. But he knew. He saw the way Jisoo hesitated that night, the way he went back when he didn’t have to. The way he threw his own safety away for someone he couldn’t bear to lose.

Changbin had watched it happen. Had been there when they pulled Jisoo out. Had felt the sick twist in his stomach when he realized it was too late.

And now, here he was. Lying in your bed, feeling the warmth of your body next to his, and knowing he was teetering on that same dangerous edge.

Caring too much.

He exhales shakily, pressing his palm over his face like he can physically push the thought away.

This isn’t the same. He tells himself that, over and over. You’re not the same. He didn’t break protocol. He didn’t cross a line. He didn’t let himself—

And yet, when he glances at you, curled up and peaceful in sleep, he feels it creeping in. That dangerous, reckless, all-consuming pull. The kind of pull that could get people hurt.

The kind of pull that could get people killed.

And still—God help him—he can’t bring himself to step away.

Because the weight of your fingers around his wrist is barely there, but it feels like something holding on. Because if he closes his eyes, he can still hear the way you said his name over the phone, slurred and sad and reaching for something neither of you could quite name. Because walking away is supposed to be easy—it’s what he’s supposed to do—but somehow, it feels harder.

His breath shudders out of him, and he lets his body sink back into the bed, his muscles slowly untensing. He tells himself it’s just for a moment. Just until your grip slackens. Just until he knows for sure that you’re asleep.

But you are asleep, and he’s still not moving.

The room is quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old apartment and the distant hum of cars outside. The air smells faintly of wine, but beneath that, there’s something softer, something yours, something that wraps around him the same way the warmth of your fingers does.

He forces his eyes to the ceiling. If he looks at you, if he lets himself take in the way your lips part slightly in sleep, the curve of your lashes against your cheek, the way your grip on his wrist lingers even though you don’t even realize it—he might not be able to keep pretending.

You’re just drunk. That’s all this is.

But there’s something insidious about that thought, because if it’s just the alcohol, then why is he still here? Why is it that even now, after telling himself all the reasons why this could be a bad idea, he still doesn’t want to let go?

Changbin exhales, closing his eyes.

He tells himself he’ll leave in five minutes.

But the minutes stretch, and stretch, and stretch—

And he never moves.

His feelings right now are a tangled mess of fear, longing, and self-imposed restraint.

He wants to stay. God, he wants to stay. But that want is exactly what terrifies him.

Because he’s seen what happens when a firefighter cares too much. He’s seen what happens when emotions get tangled with duty, when the lines blur between helping someone and needing them. He watched a man—someone he admired, someone who was supposed to know better—lose his life because of it.

So now, every instinct inside him is fighting.

There’s the part of him that aches to reach for you, to let himself just feel instead of thinking so damn hard. The part that still feels the ghost of your fingers in his, the warmth of you beside him, the way you unconsciously reached for him even in sleep.

And then there’s the part that screams Don’t be reckless. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be like him.

It’s guilt and fear and stupid, stubborn hope all fighting for space in his chest.

Because the truth is—if he lets himself care, if he lets himself have this, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself from risking everything.

But then you stir beside him, a soft noise escaping your lips as you shift under the covers. Your hand twitches, fingers brushing against his wrist again, as if even in sleep, some part of you is reaching for him.

And Changbin stops thinking about leaving.

Just for a second.

He exhales, pressing his lips into a thin line as he watches your face, the way your brows knit slightly before smoothing out again. He wonders if you’re dreaming. If, in that dream, he’s there too.

His chest tightens, and he looks away. He shouldn’t be thinking about this. Shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. But the weight of everything—of the past, of what he knows and what he wants—settles heavy inside him, a pressure he can’t shake.

His fingers flex slightly against the blanket. His body is still half-tensed, as if he could make himself get up, walk away, pretend this never happened.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he stays. And when the silence stretches too long, when the thoughts start pressing too heavy against his ribs, it’s his own voice that finally breaks the quiet.

“I should go,” he mutters.

It’s barely a whisper, not even meant for you, but somehow, you hear it.

Still half-asleep, your lips part, a quiet, mumbled sound escaping before the words fully form. “You don’t want to.”

Changbin stills.

Your eyes aren’t even open, but somehow, it’s like you know. Like you can feel the battle raging in his chest.

And that—more than anything—scares the hell out of him.

[.]

When you wake up slowly, blinking against the sunlight, he’s still there—staring at the ceiling, his jaw tight, looking like he’s at war with himself.

You study him for a beat before saying, “You’re thinking too hard.”

He exhales sharply, like you caught him. But he doesn’t deny it.

Outside, the sun creeps higher, spilling golden light through the thin curtains. The sheets beneath you are warm from where he sat, and yet—he’s stiff, distant, like he’s already halfway out the door.

You don’t want to push. You’re hungover on wine, your head hurts, and you’d rather bask in the warmth of the sun that seeps through the window, but something about the way he looks—about the way he’s here but somehow not here—makes you ask.

“Do you regret staying?”

He freezes for half a second, then shakes his head.

“No.”

His voice is quiet, but firm. Still, something about it doesn’t convince you.

“But you… want to leave.”

Silence. His jaw tightens.

You wait.

And finally, after a long moment, he mutters, “I… should.”

There it is. That hesitation, that pull in opposite directions. You frown, leaning a little closer, the sheets rustling beneath you.

“Why?”

Changbin exhales harshly through his nose and drags a hand down his face. His shoulders are hunched like the weight of this conversation is pressing down on him. He looks away, eyes flickering to the floor.

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“That’s not fair,” you say softly. “Make me get it. I’m not dull. Just hungover.”

His fingers twitch. He wants to argue. Wants to shut this down. But the look on your face keeps him pinned in place, and for a second, his resolve wavers.

Changbin doesn’t answer right away. He drops his hand from his face, staring at the ceiling like the answer might be carved into it.

Because it’s dangerous. Because I shouldn’t want this. Because caring too much can get people killed.

His throat bobs. He swallows hard. He stops himself before the words slip out. But you don’t look away. You’re waiting for an answer. An answer he isn’t totally sure if he can put into words.

There’s a moment—a fragile, trembling moment—where you think he might actually answer you.

And then he moves.

He swings his legs off the bed, scrubs a hand down his face, and gets up so fast it makes your head spin. You watch, stunned, as he shoves his feet into his shoes, his movements sharp, almost frantic.

Your stomach drops. He’s leaving.

“What are you doing?” Your voice comes out thinner than you mean it to.

“I told you,” he mutters, reaching for his jacket. “I should go.”

The air is heavy, thick with something unspoken. Your grip tightens on the blanket.

“So that’s it?” You hate how small your voice sounds. “You’re just gonna—what? Pretend none of this happened?”

He doesn’t answer. Just zips up his jacket.

Something inside you snaps.

“That’s real mature, Changbin.” Your voice is thick, shaking. “You get to act like you care, but the second it can get a bit hard, you run?”

He freezes again. His fingers curl around the fabric of his jacket. His shoulders jerk like the words physically hit him. His head shakes—small, sharp, like he’s trying to shake off a thought he doesn’t want to have.

You push yourself off the bed. The wooden floor is cold under your feet. “No. No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to stay, to hold me, to make me feel like I matter, just to leave the second I ask you why.”

“You don’t understand,” he mutters, voice tight, and when he finally looks at you, his eyes are glassy, something like desperation clinging to the edges. “I can’t do this.”

You step forward, even if he avoids your eyes.

"Can’t or won’t?"

His jaw tightens. He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to physically shake the question off. "Oh, please," he mutters, but his voice isn’t sharp—it’s strained, like he’s fraying at the edges.

His hands curl into fists. He has to leave.

"What do you want?"

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Your voice is louder this time. You’re getting angry, and he knows, and he can only blame himself. He exhales sharply, shoulders rising and falling with the weight of something he can’t quite name. His fingers twitch at his sides.

"I don’t know," he says, and it’s a lie, and you both know it.

"Yes, you do."

Silence.

The conviction in your voice is unwavering. It pins him in place, cracks through the walls he's trying so desperately to keep up. And suddenly, it’s terrifying—because you see right through him.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

"Of course, it matters." You frown, tilting your head. "Why are you fighting this so hard?"

Changbin presses his lips together. His throat feels tight. Because I know how this could end. Because he’s seen what could happen when a firefighter gets too close. He’s seen the way it can ruin people. How it can make you reckless. How it can turn a life into a name on a plaque, a funeral with too many people in uniform.

Because he’s seen what love can cost.

“You wouldn’t get it,” he says, and it’s clipped, like he’s trying to cut the conversation off before it can go any further.

You scoff. “You keep saying that, but how the fuck would you know?”

His jaw clenches. “Because it’s not that simple.”

“Then make it simple!” You sit up fully now, your frustration boiling over. “You keep looking at me like I’m some line you don’t want to cross, but I don’t get why! You stayed, Changbin. You wanted to stay, so why do you act like it’s some kind of mistake?”

His breath shudders. His hands ball into fists.

And then, suddenly, his voice cracks—

“I’m scared, okay!?”

The words rip out of him, sharp and desperate, like he didn’t mean to say them out loud. Like they’ve been clawing at his throat for years and finally broke free.

The air in the room turns unbearably thick.

Your lips part, but no words come.

“I’m fucking terrified.” He mumbles breathlessly.

Changbin squeezes his eyes shut. His breathing turns uneven. When he speaks again, his voice is rough, trembling at the edges.

“I watched a man die because he cared too much.” His hands tremble at his sides. “Because he—he tried to save someone he loved, and it killed him. And you—” His throat bobs. “You make me care in a way I don’t understand, and it scares the shit out of me.”

Your heart aches. He shakes his head, breath hitching, like he’s mad at himself for admitting it. Like he already regrets every word. His chest rises and falls sharply, and when he finally looks at you again, he’s tearing apart at the seams.

And now—now—you get it.

This isn’t just hesitation. This isn’t just reluctance.

This is fear.

And it’s eating him alive.

Your chest tightens. His words weigh heavy in the air, and suddenly, you feel like you understand him in a way you hadn’t before.

“I get it,” you whisper, as if afraid to break the silence. “More than you think.”

Changbin’s breath is shaky. He shakes his head like he doesn’t believe you.

But you don’t let him shut you out.

“I drank too much wine last night because my friends are… well. People who don’t really seem like my friends,” you say, voice quiet but steady. “Because they don’t… Because I was sitting there, watching them laugh and talk, and I realized that I could disappear, and no one would even notice.”

His eyes flicker to yours.

“I know what lonely feels like,” you continue, and now your voice wavers. “And I know what it’s like to think you’re better off that way. That it’s safer.” You swallow hard. “But you’re wrong, Changbin.”

He exhales sharply, looking away. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach for something but doesn’t know what.

“Pushing people away doesn’t stop the fear,” you murmur. “It just makes you feel like shit.”

A heavy silence settles between you. The kind that stretches. The kind that means something.

And then, without thinking, you reach for him.

Your body moves like it’s on autopilot. Like a glass bottle with a small note inside that follows the sea’s current until it reaches land, the same way you approach Changbin, like a small wave crashing against the shore. You lift your hand, and grace his with your fingers. He looks at you like he’s a castaway, like he’s been waiting for this little bottled up note for decades.

He doesn’t pull away.

“Not caring won’t protect you,” you whisper. “It just makes you lonely.”

His breath stutters. You don’t miss the way his eyes drop to your lips, the way his grip tightens—like he’s fighting himself.

So you make the choice for him. You lean in, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I may be asking for a lot from you,” you murmur, less than an inch away from his face. “But I want you to know… You’re not the only one who’s scared. You just… you don’t have to be alone.”

Changbin’s eyes flutter shut. A shaky exhale escapes him.

It crashes into him all at once.

God. He wants you.

He wants you in a way that terrifies him. In a way that makes his hands shake at his sides, makes his chest ache with something unbearable, something vast. It’s not just desire—it’s something deeper, something terrifyingly raw. He wants to press his forehead against yours and let his guard down for once. He wants to memorize the warmth of your skin, the way your lips feel against his. He wants to let himself have this, just for a second.

It makes him want you with an intensity that nearly buckles his knees, already wobbly from the shown fits of passion that have taken over him. He looks at you, and somehow he finds it impossible to identify who it is that stands in front of him. That has to be someone new. Someone that glowed with a kind of shimmer that fire could only aspire to achieve.

It’s almost unbearable. You’re too close, too warm, too everything. And he—he’s spent so long convincing himself that this is a bad idea, that wanting you is dangerous for his poor jaded heart, that if he gets too close, he’ll get burned.

You’re like fire. Mesmerizing, consuming. Beautiful in a way that’s almost cruel. A force of nature he shouldn’t touch but can’t look away from. He knows fire can destroy, but it also warms. It keeps people alive. It saves.

And suddenly, all his reasons, all his carefully built walls, feel like nothing but paper.

He curses under his breath, his resolve crumbling to ash.

And then, after a long, long beat—

He moves.

“You’re not drunk,” he mumbles.

You blink, momentarily confused. “Of course not. What does that have to do with—”

He kisses you.

It’s soft—so soft—but there’s something desperate beneath it, something like surrender.

When he pulls away just enough to breathe, his forehead still brushing against yours, his voice is barely more than a whisper—

“I said that if you weren’t drunk, I’d kiss you back.”

His eyes flicker to yours, searching, waiting—

And then, slowly, carefully, he kisses you again.

It’s slow, deliberate—like he wants to memorize every second. His hands move down, one slipping to the small of your back, the other resting at the curve of your jaw. His lips move against yours with a kind of reverence, like he’s drinking you in, like this isn’t just a kiss but something deeper, something sacred.

When he finally pulls away, he stays close, his breath fanning over your lips. His thumb brushes your cheek, and the way he looks at you—like you’re something fragile, something precious—makes your heart ache.

“If you happen to be some kind of magician, and you’ve made me drink some cheesy love potion, you better confess,” he mumbles with a small smile.

You chuckle in his arms. “If anything, you could’ve voodooed me while I was asleep in the hospital, for all I know.”

He wants to keep teasing you, but he can’t help but lick his lips. “Say, miss voodoo, can I kiss you again?”

“Only if you’ll keep drinking my love potion.”

Oh, he will.

His lips brush against yours like a question.

It’s barely there at first—just a press, a test, a quiet is this okay? lingering in the space between. He lingers, not pulling away but not deepening it, his hands still trembling where they frame your face.

And then you move.

The smallest shift, the gentlest push closer, and it’s like something inside him breaks. His breath shudders against your skin before he kisses you again, firmer this time, sinking into you like he’s finally stopped running.

It’s not slow, not careful. It’s rushed, almost clumsy, a collision of breath and heat and too many unsaid things. His hands are everywhere at once—one cupping your jaw, the other gripping your waist like he needs to feel you, needs proof that this is real and not just something he’s imagined too many times in the quiet of his mind.

You gasp against his mouth, startled by the sheer force of it, but then you’re kissing him back just as desperately. There’s nothing delicate about it. It’s messy and uneven, full of too many emotions to name, and Changbin doesn’t care if it’s reckless, if it’s stupid, if it’s dangerous.

You make a noise against his lips, soft but surprised, and he groans low in his throat, like the sound alone could undo him. His fingers flex against your skin before sliding up to tangle in your hair, tilting your head, deepening the kiss.

It’s fire—spreading fast, consuming everything. He’s gripping at you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s spent too long pretending he didn’t want this and now he can’t stop.

And maybe he doesn’t want to.

His teeth graze your bottom lip, and you shiver—whether from the touch or the sheer intensity of him, you don’t know. But your hands are already fisting into his shirt, holding him in place like you need him just as much as he needs you.

A breath. A pause.

His forehead rests against yours, his chest heaving. His hands don’t let go. Neither do yours.

When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“…I shouldn’t have done that.”

But he still hasn’t let go.

“Then don’t keep doing it.”

Changbin barely has a second to process your words before your lips crash against his again.

It’s all heat, all hunger—no hesitation, no second-guessing. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and whatever restraint he had left shatters completely.

He groans into the kiss, his grip tightening at your waist, at the back of your neck, anywhere he can hold you. You’re pressed together like you could somehow mold into one, his body flush against yours, and god—he’s lost. He’s so impossibly lost in the way you taste, the way your breath hitches when he moves, the way you kiss him like you’ve been waiting for this just as long as he has.

He’s done fighting it.

You push at him, just enough to get him stumbling back a step, and he lets you, lets you take, lets you have him, because he’s too far gone to do anything else. His back hits the wall, and you follow, hands skimming up his chest, nails scratching lightly through the fabric. He shudders, his breath ragged against your lips, and then he’s kissing you harder, like he wants to drown in you.

There’s nothing careful about this. It’s messy, desperate, consuming—like the both of you have been starved for too long. Like neither of you know how to stop.

And for once, he doesn’t want to. He won’t even dare to attempt to.

Your fingers, desperate and eager, slip beneath the neckline of his shirt. You just want to feel him, the warmth of his skin, the way his heartbeat thrums beneath your touch. But then—

You freeze.

The pads of your fingers graze over something rough, uneven. Scratches. Your breath catches as you pull back just enough to look at him, your hand still resting lightly against his collarbone. Your eyes flicker to his, searching.

Changbin just smirks, breathless, his lips kiss-bruised and slightly swollen. His hands stay firm at your waist, like he doesn’t want you to move too far away.

“Oh, yeah,” he exhales, voice low, almost amused. “Those are yours.”

Your stomach flips. “Mine?”

“From the fire.” His thumb traces slow circles at your hip, grounding, steady. “You really didn’t wanna let go.”

Your heart clenches. You remember the way your hands had scrambled for anything to hold onto, how the fear had overtaken every rational thought, how his presence had been the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. Your fingers twitch against his skin. He watches you carefully, eyes darker, unreadable.

For a moment, you just stare at him, your lips parted, your breathing uneven. And then, slowly, like you’re rediscovering him, your fingers trace over the scratches again—softer this time. His jaw flexes, his breath shallow.

“I—” You swallow, unsure of what you want to say.

He leans in just enough to brush his nose against yours.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind getting more of those again.”

You meet his gaze, and something about the way he’s looking at you—like he’d let you choose, like he’d let you leave if you wanted to, even if it killed him—makes you tighten your grip on his shirt.

“Still wanna stop?” he mumbles.

“No,” you whisper.

And you kiss him again.

His lips are on yours, and you’re both breathless, both not stopping.

You know you should. Probably. Maybe.

But then his hands are on your waist, and your fingers are pulling at his shirt, and stopping seems like the least reasonable thing in the world.

Changbin groans against your lips, his fingers tightening just a little, like he’s about to pull you impossibly closer—but then he forces himself to pause. His forehead presses against yours, his breathing uneven.

"We should stop."

You nod, still catching your breath. "Yeah. We should."

Neither of you moves.

His nose brushes against yours, and his fingers splay over your lower back, not pulling you in, but not letting you go.

A few seconds stretch between you.

Then you kiss him again.

"We’re not stopping," he mumbles, laughing against your lips.

"We are," you insist, kissing him again just to prove a point. "Just... very, very slowly."

Changbin laughs—full and warm—and buries his face against your shoulder. "You’re the worst."

"And yet, here you are," you tease, tracing your fingers along the nape of his neck, your touch just barely enough to make him shudder.

He exhales sharply. "You're—" but he doesn’t finish, because his lips are back on yours, and you’re smiling too much into the kiss to care.

His hands skim up your sides, then hesitate. "We really should stop."

"You first."

His lips press into a thin line, like he’s actually considering it.

Then—he kisses you again.

"We’re doing an awful job at this," he mumbles.

You just grin against his mouth. "Eh. Maybe we should keep practicing."

Changbin huffs another laugh, his forehead knocking against yours.

"Slow," he reminds you, but he's still kissing you, still laughing when you chase after his lips.

"Very, very slow," you agree, though neither of you stops.

"You know I'm still scared shitless, right?" He mumbles.

"I know," you whisper.

Your fingers find the back of his neck again, tracing slow, aimless patterns against his skin. He exhales sharply at the touch, like it makes something in him settle, like it reminds him he’s here. With you.

His forehead rests against yours, and for a second, you just breathe together.

"I don’t know how to do this," he admits, voice rough. “I’ve actually never done this. Not when it’s—when it’s like this."

"Like what?" you ask softly.

His hands tighten around your waist. "Real."

The word hangs in the air between you, delicate and terrifying.

Your chest aches. You bring a hand up to his face, fingers skimming the curve of his jaw, feeling the way he leans into it despite himself.

"We’ll figure it out," you say, your voice steady. "Together."

Changbin swallows. His lips part like he wants to say something else, but then he just nods, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"Slow," he mumbles again, a reminder more for himself than for you.

"Very, very slow," you echo, smiling softly.

[.]

The sun is brighter now, spilling warmth onto the pavement as the two of you walk side by side. The morning air still carries a lingering chill, but it’s nothing compared to the heat simmering low in your chest—because he’s here. Because you’re here, together.

Changbin’s hands are in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched like he’s still adjusting to the ease of this. Like some part of him is waiting for reality to snap back, for this fragile, quiet thing between you to slip away. But then you nudge his arm with your elbow, grinning when he glances at you.

“You’re quiet,” you say.

He hums, the corner of his mouth twitching. “You’re loud.”

You gasp, clutching your chest dramatically. “Wow. I see how it is.”

And there it is—the smallest laugh, a breath of amusement that he probably doesn’t even realize slipped out. But you do. You hear it. Feel it settle somewhere deep inside you, warm and bright.

You don’t tease him for it, though. Just smile to yourself as you walk, letting the comfortable silence stretch between you.

It’s not long before you reach the café, a small, tucked-away place with fogged-up windows and the smell of fresh bread spilling out as soon as you step inside. It’s cozy, the kind of place that’s always just a little too warm, where the sound of quiet conversations blends into the soft clatter of cups and silverware.

Changbin lets you lead, following as you slide into a booth by the window. You notice, with no small amount of amusement, that he glances at the menu like it’s a life-or-death decision.

“Okay,” you say, resting your chin on your hand. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He sighs, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “I just don’t know what to get.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You’re acting like we’re planning a heist.”

“This is important,” he says, dead serious. “Breakfast is important.”

A laugh bubbles up in your throat. “Okay, okay, we’ll take it seriously.”

You lean across the table a little, pretending to study the menu intently. Then, with the most solemn expression you can muster, you say, “I think you should get the pancakes.”

Changbin narrows his eyes at you. “You just want to steal my food.”

You gasp, feigning offense. “How dare you.”

He just shakes his head, but there’s something lighter in his expression now. Something warm. You can feel it in the way his shoulders have lost their tension, in the way he doesn’t immediately catch himself when he smiles.

And maybe that’s when it hits him.

Because when was the last time he felt this at ease? When was the last time he let himself just be, without second-guessing, without worrying about what comes next?

But the thought barely has time to settle before the server comes over, and you—grinning mischievously—order the pancakes for him before he can protest.

He groans, dropping his head onto the table, and you laugh, reaching out to poke his arm.

“Too late,” you say, sing-song. “You’re having pancakes.”

“You’re actually the worst,” he mutters into his arms.

When the food finally arrives, the scent of butter and syrup fills the air, making your stomach grumble. The server places the plates down—your simple breakfast and his stack of golden pancakes, soft and fluffy, drizzled with just the right amount of syrup.

Changbin sighs dramatically, shaking his head as he picks up his fork. “I still can’t believe you ordered for me.”

“You hesitated. That makes your food my decision,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. “Those are the rules.”

He snorts. “What rules?”

“The rules of life,” you say wisely, cutting a piece of your own food. “It’s like the five-second rule. Universal.”

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, not convinced. But when he takes his first bite, his brows lift slightly, and you know—you just know—that you were right.

“Good, huh?” you tease, kicking his foot lightly under the table.

He chews, glares at you, and reluctantly nods. “Shut up.”

You grin, pleased, and reach for another piece of your food. But before your fork even touches your plate, Changbin moves—fast, precise, absolutely merciless—and steals a bite off yours instead.

“Hey!” You gawk at him. “I thought you were mad at me for stealing your food!”

He shrugs, chewing with an infuriatingly smug expression. “What’s that thing you said? The rules of life?”

You gape at him. “Oh, so now you believe in them?”

“Only when they work in my favor.” He takes another bite of his pancakes, this time smugly not looking at you.

You shake your head, laughing softly. He’s comfortable. Really comfortable. The way he leans back against the seat, the way his shoulders aren’t so rigid, the way he keeps making these quiet little comments—this isn’t the Changbin from your last moments at the hospital, nor the one that wanted to leave less than a couple hours ago, tense and unreadable.

And something about that realization settles in your chest, warm and soft.

You nudge his foot again.

“I like you like this.”

He pauses, fork halfway to his mouth. “Like what?”

“Like…” You tilt your head, studying him. “Like you don’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

His expression shifts, subtle but unmistakable. His lips press together, like he doesn’t quite know what to say.

And maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t know how to put it into words—the way this feels different, the way it feels light in a way he’s not used to.

But then you steal a piece of his pancake. On purpose this time.

“Wow,” he says flatly. “Unbelievable.”

You smirk, popping it into your mouth. “It’s just the rules of life, gorgeous.”

At first, you expect him to laugh. He’s called you that enough times that it can almost seem like a joke between you two. But this must be different, because this time, his ears turn red.

Changbin chokes on his bite. Your grin widens.

“No way.”

He pouts, quite literally looking like the definition of angy, stabbing at his food. He’s avoiding your eyes, but it doesn’t matter—you can see it. The way the tips of his ears turn red first, the color creeping down to his jaw, spreading over his cheeks. His lips press together, twitching at the corners like he’s fighting the urge to react, but his body betrays him—shoulders just a little stiffer, hand flexing against the table, chewing on the inside of his cheek like that’ll somehow will away the warmth blooming across his face.

You grin, eyes lighting up.

“You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

He groans, head dropping into his hand.

The warmth in his face refuses to fade. Changbin clenches his jaw, focusing intently on his plate, but the word still echoes in his head—gorgeous. It lingers, settling under his skin, unraveling him in a way he hadn’t expected. He’s called you that plenty of times now, not expecting you to do anything about it —almost like a reflex when he first met you and wanted to get you out of danger as soon as possible, not wanting to dwell on presentations. But hearing it from you —soft, certain, like you meant it— knocks the air from his lungs. His chest feels tight, and he can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment or something deeper, something more dangerous.

And then, because the universe clearly has it out for him, he looks up. You’re watching him, a teasing glint in your eyes, your lips curled in amusement like you’re enjoying this. Oh, you’re so enjoying this. Heat crawls up his neck, pooling at the tips of his ears, and he has to resist the urge to fidget. His grip on his fork tightens, his pulse stuttering as you tilt your head, waiting, expectant. Changbin swallows hard and looks back at his plate. Goddamn it.

You lean forward on your elbows, eyes shining with mischief. “Wow. So that’s what it takes to get under your skin, huh, mister firefighter?”

Changbin mutters something under his breath that you think is a string of very creative curses.

“You’re still red.”

“I’m not.”

“Again, you so are.”

He locks his eyes down at his pancakes, nodding to you, faking nonchalance. “Eat your food.”

You grin. “Sure thing, gorgeous.”

He groans, head dropping into his hand, hiding a smile.

The café hums softly around them—low chatter, the occasional clink of cutlery against ceramic, the distant hiss of an espresso machine. But at their table, there’s a different kind of quiet. A comfortable one. They eat, occasionally meeting each other’s eyes, sometimes just exchanging small, knowing smiles.

Then, just as Changbin takes another bite, you break the silence.

“I really like you.”

He nearly chokes again. It’s almost offensive to him that you don’t even blink. You just rest your chin on your hand, watching him with an amused tilt of your head. He swallows, setting his fork down carefully, but before he can gather his thoughts, you continue.

“But,” you say, drawing out the word like you’re making a serious declaration, “I’ve decided that if this is going to work, I need to get to know you. Like, the real you.”

Changbin tenses. There’s a split second where his mind jumps to something serious—his job, the things he’s seen, the weight of what he hasn’t told you yet, not fully—but then he notices the playful glint in your eyes. Still, his shoulders stay tight. His fingers twitch slightly against the table.

You tilt your head and narrow your eyes at him like you’re analyzing something incredibly important.

“So,” you say, very slowly, as if you’re about to ask the most crucial question of all. His stomach twists, but he hums as he waits for the question to hit him.

“Pineapple on pizza?”

He blinks.

“…What?”

“Well?” You squint harder, like you’re studying him.

“Eh… No?”

You nod solemnly, as if this is of great importance.

“Good choice.”

His lips twitch, amused despite himself. “Was that a test?”

You wave a hand. “It’s all a test, gorgeous” Then, before he can roll his eyes and blush even more, you continue, rapid-fire. “Dogs or cats?”

“Dogs.”

“Respectable.” You nod again. “Favorite movie?”

He shrugs. “Depends. Maybe Inception?”

“Hm. A little pretentious, but I’ll allow it.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re avoiding the questions,” you shoot back, tapping your fingers against the table. “Coffee or tea?”

“Coffee.”

“What’s your go-to order?”

“Americano.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Of course it is.”

He lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “Meanie. What’s yours?”

“Cappuccino, of course. The more sugar, the better.”

He pushes his glasses as a reflex when he smiles. “Okay, your turn again. What’s your favorite movie?”

You smirk. “Shrek 2.”

Changbin nearly drops his fork. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, but I am.” You sip your drink with an air of absolute confidence. “It’s a cinematic masterpiece.”

He stares at you for a moment, then bursts into laughter. It’s deep and warm, and the sound of it makes your chest feel lighter.

“Why not the first one?” He chuckles, trying to calm down his laughter.

But you gasp, clutching your chest like he’s just mortally wounded you. “Excuse me? Shrek 2 is objectively superior.”

Changbin shakes his head, chuckling. “The first one is a classic, though.”

“Yeah, but the second one improves on the first in every way,” you argue, leaning forward. “Better animation. Funnier jokes. A soundtrack that goes so hard.”

He raises an eyebrow, amused. “You’re really passionate about this.”

“As I should be.” You tilt your chin up, feigning indignation. “I mean, come on. ‘I Need a Hero’? The giant gingerbread man? The fairy godmother?” You shake your head in disappointment. “I can’t believe you’re even questioning this.”

Changbin lets out another laugh, shaking his head. “Okay, okay. I’ll give you the soundtrack.”

“Damn right, you will.” You take a triumphant sip of your drink.

He watches you, still smiling, and something in his chest feels a little lighter. Maybe taking it slow is just what he needs.

Changbin leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Alright, since we’re debating classics—best animated movie of all time.”

You narrow your eyes at him, pretending to consider. “Shrek 2.”

He groans. “You just said that!”

“Because, it is the best animated movie of all time.”

Changbin shakes his head, exasperated but grinning. “You have so many options, and you’re really sticking with that?”

“Yes. Final answer. Locking it in.” You mime pressing a game-show buzzer.

He laughs, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You smirk, taking another sip of your drink. “Alright, fine. What’s your pick?”

He hums, pretending to consider. “Maybe The Lion King?”

You snort. “Basic.”

Changbin gapes at you. “Excuse me?”

“It’s a great movie, don’t get me wrong,” you say, waving a hand. “But it’s the safe choice. Everyone picks The Lion King. Bet you there isn’t one single person alive who doesn’t at least tolerate that movie.”

“Okay, chill, miss Shrek 2,” he teases, leaning back in his chair.

You gasp dramatically. “How dare you?”

He grins, eyes glinting with amusement. “Alright, what about How to Train Your Dragon?”

You purse your lips, pretending to weigh the choice. “Now that is a respectable answer.”

Changbin huffs. “Oh, so that one’s allowed?”

“It has dragons. And a banger soundtrack,” you say matter-of-factly.

“I see where your priorities lie.”

“Obviously,” you say with a playful shrug.

He watches you, something warm in his chest. The teasing, the way you light up when you argue over something ridiculous—it’s all so easy. For the first time in a long time, he’s not thinking about what comes next. He’s just here.

He’s having so much fun, he’s not looking at his phone, that lights up in several text bubbles. Neither do you… yet.

“Okay, back to the real thing, ‘cause I ask the questions here,” you giggle. “Favourite colour…” He’s about to answer, but then you finish the sentence “and why.”

Changbin pauses, caught off guard. “And why?”

You nod solemnly. “Yep. No basic one-word answers. I need reasons.”

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. “You take this very seriously.”

“Of course,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “This is a crucial part of getting to know someone. What if you said, I don’t know, neon brown? What if you had bad taste?”

Changbin snorts. “Good thing I don’t, then.”

“Debatable,” you tease. “Now answer.”

He thinks for a second, absentmindedly tapping his fingers against the table. “I guess… blue?”

You stare at him, then blink, expectantly.

He blinks. “What?”

“I’m skipping the fact that it’s basic. But you’re missing the why, silly,” you remind him, amused.

He exhales through his nose, lips twitching. “I don’t know. It’s calming? Feels steady, I guess.”

You nod, like you’re analyzing his answer. “Alright. Safe choice. Could be worse.”

“Could be worse?” he echoes, laughing. “What’s your favorite color, then?”

“Mm,” you hum, pretending to think. “Magenta.”

His brow furrows. “Why?”

You smirk. “Because it’s fun watching people’s faces when I say it.”

Changbin groans, laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

You grin. “Took you this long to figure that out?” Your nibble on your lip, sighing softly. “No, but honestly, white is my favourite. It reflects all other colours,” you smile, a bit to yourself, like you’re suddenly sheepish about the answer.

Changbin leans back slightly in his seat, surprised by your answer. “White, huh? I thought you’d go for something bolder.”

You chuckle, tapping your finger on your chin like you’re contemplating the question seriously. “I like simplicity. But, I guess if I’m being honest, it’s more than just that.”

He watches you closely, waiting for you to elaborate. “How so?”

You meet his gaze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s like… it’s not just a color, it’s everything and nothing all at once. It’s light at its highest, but it can also be anything, depending on what you choose to add to it.”

Changbin nods thoughtfully. “That feels deep for a favorite color.”

You laugh at his mock surprise. “I’m full of surprises, mister firefighter.”

He rolls his eyes, but there’s a warmth in his smile. “Guess I’m starting to realize that.”

You both take a moment, the conversation slowing, but only for a beat before you press on with another silly question. “Alright, next one. Worst movie you’ve ever seen?”

Changbin groans dramatically, leaning forward with a deep sigh, clearly dreading the question. “I don’t know if I can pick just one.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, come on. There has to be one that stands out.”

He thinks for a moment, then chuckles, clearly defeated. “Fine. I saw this movie once where they tried to make a romance out of a giant robot and a girl. It was… painful.”

You laugh out loud at the absurdity. “That sounds awful. What was it called?”

“Don’t even remember the name,” he grumbles, shaking his head. “But it’s probably better that way.”

You both laugh, the comfortable silence that follows feeling easy and natural, as though you’ve just found a rhythm in each other’s company.

“Yours?” He smiles.

“Ouf,” you grimace. “I can’t pick just one,” you lick your lips, counting on your fingers. “The entire Twilight saga, the entire After saga, several disney sequels, Emilia Pérez…”

Changbin chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “I knew you had taste, but… the entire Twilight saga? That’s pretty brutal.”

You shrug dramatically, as if the weight of such a decision is too much. “It’s a public service to warn people about those kinds of movies,” you say, deadpan. “It’s honestly a sacrifice for humanity. I’ll wear that badge with fucking honour.”

He snorts at that, clearly amused. “And the Disney sequels? You didn’t even give those a chance?”

“Ha,” you laugh, “no. Just no.”

Changbin nods sagely, like he fully understands the gravity of the situation. “Yeah, I get it. Some things are better left in the past.”

You both laugh, shaking your heads at the ridiculousness of the movies, and the conversation eases into a comfortable rhythm of banter, silly questions, and sharing opinions that feel like little windows into who you each are. There’s no pressure, no tension—just a growing sense of ease between the two of you.

“No, but, seriously. Say, Pocahontas 2? It defeats almost everything the first movie ever accomplished. And Mulan 2 ruined Mushu. I’ll never forgive them for that.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow, genuinely intrigued by your passion. “Wait, Mulan 2?” He chuckles, leaning forward a little. “You really have strong feelings about this.”

“Don’t get me started,” you warn, your voice mock-serious. “They turned Mushu into a bitchass joke, which is high treason. Like, in Mulan’s whole vibe he’s supposed to be that chaotic, but lovable force. Instead, they made it into this weird ‘let’s make Mushu annoying as he tries to break up Mulan and Shan, and let’s not have fight scenes’, which is all major bullshit if you ask me.”

He laughs harder now, clearly enjoying your animated rant. “I can tell this is a serious matter to you. Alright, alright, I won’t argue. What about Pocahontas 2, though?”

You nod gravely, your expression deadpan as you lean in closer. “The entire premise is just… wrong. It completely misses the mark of the first movie, which had so much depth. The CGI is a joke, breaking up Pocahontas and John Smith is just criminal, and I don’t care if that happened historically, because there was no need to use that. And the only funny guy was this gigantic dude from the tribe that almost never spoke. Imagine that.”

He laughs again, this time shaking his head in disbelief. “I’m honestly impressed by how much you care about these movies.”

“I mean, I could write an essay,” you smirk, “But I’ll spare you the dissertation for now.”

“Please don’t,” he says with a grin. “I’m already regretting asking.”

“Don’t you watch any movies?” You scoff. “You’re making me feel like a geek,” you chuckle.

Changbin shrugs with a teasing smile, leaning back in his chair. “I watch movies, but I don’t think I’ve ever cared enough to dissect the sequels like you do.” He pauses, then smirks. “Maybe I should start taking notes.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Please do, so next time I can drag you into a two-hour debate on how The Lion King 2 doesn’t make sense with the original.”

“That sounds terrifying,” he laughs, but the way he looks at you is soft, like he genuinely enjoys the banter. “Maybe you can teach me the ways of movie critique.”

You roll your eyes playfully, giving him a smirk. “Oh, it’s a tough job. You have to be deeply invested in fictional heartbreak and plot holes.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he grins. “But I’d rather listen to you talk about it.”

You blink. You feel your face turn red and your mouth turn dry.

“Oh,” he smirks. “Look who’s blushing now.”

You blink, feeling your face heat up, your heart rate picking up. “What—what do you mean?” you stutter, trying to shake off the sudden shyness that creeps up on you.

“Oh, I’m just saying,” he smirks, leaning back slightly, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “You’re looking a little… red there.”

“I— I’m not,” you protest, but your voice cracks a little, betraying you.

He chuckles, watching you try to compose yourself. “Sure, you’re not.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steer the conversation in a safer direction. “Well, maybe you’re just making me nervous.”

He raises an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “Am I?” His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something warm in his gaze.

You can’t help but laugh, despite the blush that still hasn’t quite faded from your cheeks. “You’re terrible.”

“Somehow, you don’t seem to dislike it,” he says with a grin.

You roll your eyes, trying to hide the smile that threatens to break through. “Maybe I don’t,” you admit, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His expression softens, and there’s a brief silence between you two. “Good,” he says quietly, his smile genuine. “I like you too.”

The words hang in the air for a moment, and for the first time, the teasing fades into something more sincere.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” You lick your lips, trying to silence the big, loud, would you like to stay forever?! your heart wants to let out. “I figured you’ll probably have to head to the station because your phone keeps getting messages you’re ignoring, so that’s probably work. But we can watch a movie, maybe? If you’d like?”

Changbin doesn’t have the heart —or the guts— to tell you that it’s actually his friends’ group chat going crazy at the fact that he left the station for a girl and didn't go back home at night after Hyunjin ratted him out like the dramatic hoe he is. All in good spirit, of course.

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head with a soft chuckle. “Yeah, uh… probably should check in at some point.”

You nod, trying to act casual, but your fingers fidget slightly against the edge of your cup. “Right. Makes sense.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then he shifts, scratching the back of his neck. “But, uh… yeah, dinner sounds nice.”

Your eyes snap back to his, glowing. “Yeah?”

He huffs out a laugh, looking almost bashful. “Yeah.”

You smile, tilting your head slightly. “Even if I make you watch a movie?”

“Depends on the movie,” he teases, lifting a brow.

You squint at him in mock suspicion. “You don’t get to judge my taste after you admitted to barely watching any.”

“Fair point,” he concedes with a smirk. “I’ll take my chances.”

He still doesn’t check his phone, and you don’t ask again. Maybe you both know that the second he does, the real world will come knocking—and for now, you’d rather just stay right here.

“Any movie you’ve been waiting to watch?”

Changbin hums, pretending to think. “Dunno… What's that one? Pocahontas 2?”

Your mouth falls open in sheer offense. “You’re evil.”

He grins, leaning back. “What? You brought it up.”

“You don’t actually want to watch Pocahontas 2.”

“No, but I do kinda want to see you suffer through it.”

“You’re the worst.” You narrow your eyes at him, pointing your spoon like a weapon. “I take back my dinner invitation.”

He chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll behave. Pick whatever you want. I promise I won’t complain.”

You squint at him for a second, like you don’t quite believe him, then relax with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But if we’re watching something I like, you better at least pretend to enjoy it.”

Changbin smirks. “No promises.”

“Watch me put Fight Club and then see who ends up more riled up.” You cackle.

Changbin raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, you think I’d be the one getting riled up?”

You snort. “I’d put money on it.”

He leans in slightly, resting his chin on his hand. “You do know what Fight Club is about, right?”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “Do you?”

His grin widens. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s about repressed masculinity, societal alienation, and—”

“Oh, so you do know,” he chuckles, tilting his head. “I was half-expecting you to say, ‘hot guys punching each other.’”

“Well, that too,” you admit, laughing. “But mostly, I just want to see you try to sit still when the chaos kicks in.”

He shakes his head, amused. “You really think that’d get to me?”

“Absolutely.” You flash him a teasing grin. “But you’ll have to say yes to dinner first.”

Changbin exhales through his nose, shaking his head like he can’t believe you. “You’re sneaky.”

You shrug, grinning. “I prefer persuasive.”

He watches you for a second, then licks his lips. “Alright,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Dinner and a movie.”

You try not to look too pleased with yourself, but you’re pretty sure you fail. “Good choice.”

His eyes narrow playfully. “Will you say that every time I agree with you?”

“Maybe,” you hum, picking at the last bits of your food. “Depends on if you keep making good choices.”

He huffs a laugh, but there’s something softer in the way he looks at you. He shakes his head, like he’s trying to figure you out, but there’s no frustration behind it—just something warm, something settled.

You glance at your watch, then back at him. “So, what do you say? You go check in at the station, I go buy groceries, and then we meet back at mine for dinner?”

Changbin taps his fingers against the table, pretending to consider it. “Only if I get a say in the menu.”

You roll your eyes. “Fine. What do you want?”

He leans in slightly, lips quirking. “Do you put pineapple on pizza?”

Your jaw drops. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He laughs—full, deep, genuine. And you realize, in that moment, just how much you love hearing it.

“Actually, new question,” you smile. “Popcorn. Sweet? Salty? With toppings, like, I don’t know, butter?”

Changbin raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by the sudden shift. “You’re really going all in with the hard-hitting questions, huh?”

You lean in, your tone playful. “You’d be surprised how much popcorn says about a person.”

Changbin raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Alright, hit me with your answer then.”

You grin, tapping your chin for dramatic effect. “Well, popcorn with butter, of course. None of that sweet nonsense.”

Changbin looks taken aback, mouth slightly open in surprise. “Wait, you don’t like sweet popcorn?”

“No way,” you laugh, shaking your head. “Sweet popcorn defeats the purpose of popcorn in the first place. It’s supposed to be salty, savory. The butter… the butter is key!”

He looks skeptical, leaning back in his chair. “But isn’t that too greasy? You need a balance, right?”

You cross your arms, looking at him like he’s just committed a grave sin. “Nope. Sweet popcorn’s a crime against snack time. It’s like… I don’t know, mixing fruit with pizza. It just doesn’t belong.”

Changbin chuckles, clearly entertained. “I think I’m gonna need to try it for myself just to see how bad it really is.”

You shake your head with mock seriousness. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You’re about to taste betrayal in snack form.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Alright, alright. I’ll stick with the salty. For now.”

“Good choice,” you nod solemnly, smiling. “You have no idea how much you just redeemed yourself.”

You both burst into laughter, the easy rhythm of conversation making everything feel comfortable, almost effortless. Changbin leans back in the booth, still chuckling, but his gaze lingers on you a moment longer than usual, his smile softening.

“So,” he says after a beat, his tone lighter but with a hint of curiosity, “What about the toppings? You’ve gotta have a favorite, right?”

You think for a second, then grin. “It’s gotta be extra butter. Like, not just a drizzle, but a full-on soaking. You know? I’m talking enough butter to make your fingers greasy after every handful.”

Changbin chuckles again, shaking his head. “I should’ve known. You’re a butter enthusiast.”

“Guilty as charged.” You grin. “What about you?

He shrugs with a grin, clearly amused by the whole conversation. “I can do butter, I guess. But I’m not one for too much of it. I’m a simple kind of guy when it comes to snacks.”

You raise an eyebrow playfully, feigning surprise. “Wait, you’re telling me you’re a popcorn minimalist? You need to step up your game, man.”

He leans forward, his expression mischievous. “Maybe, but I’ll tell you this: I’m not about to ruin a perfectly good snack with too much of anything. Just a little butter, maybe some salt, and that’s it.”

You shake your head, laughing again. “That’s a shame. You’ll never experience true popcorn bliss.” You pause, leaning in slightly, voice dropping just a little. “But maybe I can teach you. You know… for the greater good.”

Changbin chuckles, his gaze flickering to yours. “You know, I might just take you up on that offer.” His smile deepens, and you catch the playful warmth in his eyes.

The moment stretches between you, easy and warm, and for a second, everything outside this little bubble of comfort fades into the background.

As the last bite of food is eaten, the table falls into a comfortable silence. You both sit back, stretching slightly, content after the meal. Your eyes wander briefly to the surroundings, the quiet buzz of the café becoming more evident now that the noise of chewing and talking has slowed.

But just as the last fork is put down, you see the server moving toward your table, a polite smile on their face as they prepare to clear the plates.

Without thinking, you both reach for the same plate at the same time, your hands brushing lightly against Changbin’s. For a split second, you both pause, meeting each other’s eyes. The smile that tugs at your lips is playful, teasing.

You wink at him, a small spark of amusement in your eyes. “Good choice,” you say, your voice light and teasing.

Changbin’s lips curl into a grin, his gaze holding yours a little longer than usual. He chuckles softly, the look in his eyes giving away how much he enjoys this moment. “Guess we’re on the same wavelength,” he says, his voice low, almost like a whisper.

The server arrives, and you both slide the plates together, stacking them without missing a beat. The act feels almost automatic, yet somehow intimate in its simplicity.

The server gives you a polite nod, taking the stack of plates. “I’ll be back with the check,” they say, before heading off.

You and Changbin exchange a quick glance, the silence between you comfortable, easy. “That was a good move,” you comment, leaning back in your seat.

He shrugs nonchalantly, but there’s a soft, content smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, not bad,” he murmurs, eyes glancing back at you with a hint of fondness.

You both relax into the moment, a sense of quiet connection settling between you.

You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling on your lips. “Is that your go-to move to make girls swoon?” you ask, leaning in just a little, the playful tone clear in your voice. “Being nice to the server?”

Changbin’s smile widens, but there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. He leans back in his seat, arms casually crossed. “Oh, absolutely,” he says with mock seriousness. “It’s all about the service skills.”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

He raises an eyebrow, as if to challenge you. “Why? Is it working?”

“Definitely,” you reply with a smirk, your voice light and teasing. “I mean, I can see how your charm would be irresistible.”

Seo laughs, shaking his head in disbelief, but there’s a warmth in his gaze. “You’re dangerous with that sarcasm, you know that?”

You shrug playfully, a smile still lingering on your lips. “I just speak the truth,” you say, leaning back in your chair, your eyes never leaving his.

He chuckles softly, the laughter lingering in his eyes. Changbin pushes his chair back, stretching slightly. “Be right back,” he says casually before heading toward the back of the café. You barely think twice about it, stirring the last bits of your drink with your straw as you glance around.

A few moments pass, and when you catch the server’s attention to ask for the check, they shake their head with a polite smile. Confused, you blink before realization dawns on you.

You turn just in time to see Seo returning to the table, looking far too pleased with himself. He slides back into his seat like nothing happened, his expression perfectly neutral—except for the barely concealed amusement in his eyes.

He can almost sense it in your face that you’re going to complain, and once your eyes widen, he chuckles sheepishly, smiling.

“I mean, who would want to miss out on the chance to pay for a beautiful girl’s breakfast?”

He notices you still squinting at him when you both exit the café.

“Don’t be like that,” he nuzzles you with his elbow playfully. “You’ll pay for dinner, basically,” he pointed out.

You huffed, faking annoyance. “This isn’t over,” you threatened, letting out a laugh.

“I sure hope not,” he smiles softly, staring at the floor, chuckling sheepishly as you both head back to your house.

“See you for dinner,” you grin, waving your hand.

He lifts his helmet’s visor, sitting on his bike, and with a blush on his face that you can’t see, winks at you.

He can’t wait.

[♦️☆🔥☆♦️]

a/n: AND NEITHER CAN I 😭‼️💕

~kats, who had to change the structure of the chapters because she reached the fucking text limit in a post.

catiuskaa, april 2025 ©

ep 3 will be out next monday! <3

[p3achyt3acak3]

Best Friend!Seo Changbin x Reader

Genre: Friends to Lovers✨️, Fluff ☁️, SMUT 🔞, Heavy on the Fluff and Smut 👀

Warnings ⚠️: Complicated feelings, Pet Names (Cutie, Baby Girl, Good Girl) Phone Sex, LIGHT Hair-Pulling, Masturbation, Whimpering, Feeling Needy, HEAVY Dirty Talk, Biting, Marking, Begging, Scent Kink, Size Kink, Body Worshipping, Oral Sex (Fem and Male receiving), Penetrative Sex, Breeding Kink, Changbin gets pretty vocal.. 🫡 PussyDrunk!Changbin, Soft to Rough Sex, Dom/Sub Dynamics

WC: 13.292K

If you choose to proceed, you are agreeing to partaking in filthy SMUT, you HAVE been warned ⚠️❤️✨️

"You're going to be gone for how long?"

After having just sat down to eat at a quiet little cafe the two of you had often visited, your best friend, Changbin, had just broken some pretty big news to you...

Big because, once again, he had held off on telling you until a few days before his actual departure.

"A few months.. We have a tour coming up. I meant to tell you earlier, but honestly.. I-" He looks away from you shamefully, fiddling with the buttons of his leather jacket. "I didn't know how to tell you.."

You arch a brow at this, scoffing in a playful manner to try and help bring his mood back up. He doesn't need to be sorry for being busy. You of all people, know how hectic and chaotic his life has been. And that's just it. He has a life outside of the one where he hangs out with you and makes you laugh with how big of a dork he is.

The two of you may be best friends, but that doesn't mean you get to be upset when you barely spend time together as often as you used to.

Your lives are very different.

That's okay.

"Oh come on, Bin.. We've talked about this. You can always come to me with anything. It's not like I'm going to take offense to you doing your job.. You have a life too, and I understand that." Trying to be optimistic and reassuring, you speak with sincerity, hoping it helps him feel a bit better.

"Yahhh, I get that, but, you're also someone close to me and it's not fair to leave you in the dark like thatttt." He whines, a silly pout puffing out against his cheeks.

Rolling your eyes, you whine back at him with the same energy, before adding, "Youuuuu have a lifeeee, Binnnn. Don't you dare feel bad for having a life."

The bickering that goes on between the two of you isn't anything new.

It's always been like this.

It's soft and light teasing, and you even occasionally flirt with one another, but things never go too far.. Never cross that invisible boundary that is, 'friends'.

"You're gonna miss me, right, cutie?" He suddenly chirps, once the conversation steers away from heavy and tense.

Rewarding him with another eye-roll, you fake a tear and hiccup. "Of course I'm going to miss my darling Dwaekki. How could I possibly live without him?" Like putting on a dramatic play, you play the part of the whiny damsel quite well, but not well enough, seeing as Changbin laughs at your poor attempt.

"Hey! This is serious! Don't laugh at me, you jerk! I'm actually going to miss you!" Although you're laughing right along with him while you scold him, so the gravity of the weight behind your words doesn't really land well.

"You'd be so bad at acting, I hope you know that." He giggles, throwing his empty cup into the trash can closest to your table.

"Pft. Like I need any acting advice from you, Mr.Idol." You retort, lifting an amused brow when he gives you the most dramatic look of shock.

-

-

-

For the next few days, it's hard to find a good time where both you and Changbin are available to hang out and just enjoy one another's company.

You'd figured that would be the case.

His schedule was slam-packed with all kinds of shit.

Yours.. Not so much.

All you really had to worry about, was attending your cosmetology classes every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

Turns out.. Whenever Changbin did have time to spare, you were always in class.

Whenever you had time to spare, he was out doing photo shoots or interviews with media companies.

It didn't bother you at first, but the day before he was supposed to leave for the next few months.. Reading that text that said, 'I'm sorry, something came up at the last minute.. Can't make it tonight.', left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Life sure had it's own way of saying that the two of you weren't really meant to spend time together right before his tour.

That night, you'd spent your time at home on your couch. Cheesy K-Dramas were roaring on your television, and a rather sizeable bowl of ice cream sat by your side.

The entire time you sat there in front of your t.v. though, you weren't paying a lick of attention to the drama.. The only thing that was running through your mind, was why you found yourself so bitter about not being able to see him at least once more before he left. Normally, you didn't care. It was like brushing sand off your shoulders. He had work, and this was apart of it. This also wasn't the first time he'd left to go on tour, leaving you behind for a few months.

So why was this time any different?

Why were you so hurt that you weren't able to at least give him a proper, 'See you in a few months!'?

By the time you'd snapped out of your own head, it was really late into the night, and your eyelids were heavy with sleep.

"Fuck.. I lost track of time.." You mumbled to yourself, hoisting yourself up from the couch to turn off the t.v. and take your empty ice cream bowl to the sink.

By the time you'd crawled into bed, Changbin had sent a text saying, 'On the plane now! I'll see you in a few months, cutie!'.

At this, your heart seemed to swell, and the feeling consumed you.

You'd meant to respond, but whatever just came over you had caught your undivided attention now.

What even was that?

Why did you feel so warm and fuzzy from a text he sent?

Not to mention the fact that he always sends you shit like that, so why is it only just now affecting you differently?

During the first few months that Changbin was away on tour with his group, he'd occasionally call you and sit on the phone for hours just talking about anything and everything. He'd mainly talk about his workout for the day, followed by how excited he was to perform for Stay, and would fill you in on some group gossip that he knew you'd get a kick out of.

You'd both go back and forth sharing things about your day, and then sit in silence, just enjoying each other's presence even if it was only through the phone.

Sometimes, if he wasn't too tired, he'd randomly turn his video on and you'd get to see him.

Every time you were able to see him, for some reason, your cheeks felt warm and butterflies began to dance around carelessly in your stomach.

After some brief talks with yourself, you'd chalked up all these feelings to be what you thought was simply missing your best friend more than usual.

Little did you know, that was far from the case.

Today was tough. Cosmetology was no joke if you were actually serious about trying to become a makeup artist. Unfortunately for you, the substitute for your usual mentor, was the one who gave you the most problems.

She was incredibly demeaning and rude. Always criticizing your work and telling you in a very passive aggressive way that you just need to be better or give up on your dream of becoming a makeup artist.

Today angered you especially.

Artists tend to get volunteers for assignments from time to time. People will come in and let the training artists work on their makeup, and then will be assessed based on how well or poorly they did. This wasn't new for you, in fact, the amount of times you'd personally worked on doing makeup for the random strangers that volunteered, could no longer be counted on just your two hands alone.

Your client today was a younger man, around your age if not younger. He had been incredibly shy at first, his voice barely heard whenever you tried to start a conversation with him. Though, once you asked him if he preferred a specific look, compared to the neutral one you were going to go along with originally, he had immediately perked up and began going into graphic detail about how much he loved bright and bold looks.

Seeing the joy that radiated from him while he talked about makeup and what looks made him happy, had put a smile on your face.

By the end of the session, he had pastel colors lining his eyes. A neutral pink lip gloss had been applied to his lips, and the cotton candy pinks and blues that sat lightly against his eyelids had nearly made you squeal with delight.

In your honest opinion.. This was probably some of the best work you'd done yet.

He was more than satisfied with the look too, saying he felt really pretty and comfortable.

Though, the mood was ruined completely when the substitute came over and visibly grimaced at what you'd done to the client's face. "This was not at all what you were assigned to do. What am I even looking at?" In a rather judgmental voice, she forced a frown on the young man's face. He had suddenly bowed his head down low, no longer comfortable now that someone had just criticized him.

Seeing this had angered you to no end, and while you wanted to shout some expletives her way, you knew it would get you kicked out of Cosmetology school faster than shit.

"I asked the client what he felt most comfortable with me doing. If a client I have is uncomfortable or unsatisfied with the look I have planned out already, I do my best to gather their input and go from there. I merely did what he was most comfortable with." In the sweetest voice you could muster, a fake smile was plastered against your lips.

No matter how hard you tried to defend yourself along with your client, the old hag simply didn't care. She'd given you a failing grade and had once again, not so subtly hinted that if you couldn't improve, then maybe this field of work wasn't what you were cut out for.

It had, in all honesty, pissed you off, and broken your spirit.

A quick fix though, was to go home and try and distract yourself.

With how busy you'd been lately, there was rarely a moment to yourself, so that also meant you were pent up and stressed.

Though, no matter how hard you tried to make yourself cum.. You just couldn't. For some reason, it was impossible to obtain at the moment, so you were left unfilled and needy.

When you tried to tell Bin that you didn't want to talk to him tonight, he had called you almost immediately though, completely forgoing the fact that you had literally just told him you weren't in the mood.

You're still laying in bed half naked when he calls, and although you intend to decline the call, you accidentally hit the accept button instead and mentally curse to yourself.

"What's wrong, cutie? You usually always want to talk to me.." Changbin's voice is soft and soothing from the other side of the phone, and for some reason, it only makes you want to cry.

Forcing yourself to regain composure, you sigh and rub at your temple, thoroughly frustrated with how things have been lately. "Just.. Haven't had a good time lately.. Don't worry about it Bin.." There's no use in trying to reassure him that everything is fine on your end, because he knows you better than that.

"Aht. Don't tell me not to worry. That's for me to decide, Jagi.." He tuts, voice now stern and making your cheeks grow warm.

Right now is not the time for your body to be acting up..

"Binnie.. Please.." Ignoring the new pet name he'd all of a sudden given you, the attempt to steer the conversation in a different direction fails completely.

"Don't shut me out, Jagi.. Talk to me. You don't have to go into explicit detail, but I need you to at least tell me what's going on with you." His voice is still relatively stern, yet there's an underlying softness that's making it hard for you to turn him down.

Breaking was easy, especially when it came to Bin. No matter what, he always managed to get you to talk to him about how you were feeling, even if you didn't want to talk about it.

You told him about your day, how stressed you were, how broken your spirit was because of that hag of a substitute. Everything and anything that was wrong, you told him, and he sat there, listening quietly.

"Oh Jagi.." He coos, voice low and attentive as you hear him shuffle a bit. He must be packing or something, at least that's what you can only assume, considering tonight is a night where he's not turning his video on. "Don't listen to people like that. You are amazing at what you do.. How about this. When I get back, I'll plan a day for just the two of us. We don't have to go out anywhere, we can just stay at your place and relax. You can do a makeup look on me if you'd like as well. I want to see what your work looks like in person." Breathing softly, his voice continues to lull out from the microphone, easing you into a state of calm and comfort.

The very thought of having a day with just him and nobody else, is far more enticing than it should be.

But you haven't seen him for a couple of months already, and he's supposed to get back next week..

"Please..?" It comes out far more needy and desperate than you intend it to, and you immediately cover your mouth when you realize it far too late.

You feel clingy.

Clingy is not something a lot of people like.

When a soft curse rings out from the other end of the call. One that's breathy and labored, your attention is back on Changbin. "Binnie..? Are you okay?" In a soft and curious voice, you ask him what's wrong, and he just laughs softly into the mic.

"All good, cutie, was just settling into my bed for the night."

There's a silence that envelops the call, the words you had originally lined up to say depending on his answer, now lodged in the back of your throat.

You know you shouldn't be.. But you're imagining him laying down in bed, his phone propped up against a pillow while he talks to you. You wonder if that's all he's doing..

No..

You cannot do this.

He is your best friend.

"Can you keep talking to me, Jagi? Wanna hear your pretty voice.." Seemingly out of nowhere, Changbin calls out to you in a soft voice, his tone bordering on whiny.

That most certainly doesn't help with your current problem..

Not only are you still half naked in bed, having been unable to obtain an orgasm.. But your thoughts are all over the place, far from innocent and pure. Him talking to you like this is making it ten times worse.

"U-uhm.. Yeah.. I.." Having a difficult time trying to find something else to talk to him about, you stutter and stumble over your words.

"Yahh.. Sweetheart, take a deep breath. Don't rush, take your time. I'm not going anywhere.." Soft reassurances flow through your ear from Changbin, and your heart is racing so fast that it feels like it'll burst from your chest at any minute.

As much as you try to center yourself and go back to thinking of purer, more family-friendly things, the way he's talking to you, soothing you, has a familiar feeling beginning to bubble up in your gut.

"I.. I went to the cafe today.." Unable to think of anything else to say, the first thing that comes to the forefront of your mind comes tumbling past your lips, a stutter still evident in your tone.

"Hmmm? Oh really? You never go by yourself.. You must really miss me, huh?" He teases. You can practically see his smile through the phone while he says this.

He's teasing you, playfully flirting with you as he always does from time to time.

Normally you'd quip back with something just as playful and snarky, but right now, you're feeling far from it.

"Yes.. Yes, I do miss you, Binnie.." You find yourself admitting in an almost breathy sigh.

Silence takes over the call once again, though the wetness in between your legs is making your brain foggy, so you don't care. How is it so easy to resort you to nothing but a mindless puddle when he's just acting how he normally does..?

"Yeah..? How badly do you miss me?" Now it's his turn to sound breathy. It makes you oh so curious, but also, the idea of being kept in the dark is oddly exciting to you, so you answer him with as much honesty as you can possibly muster.

"More than usual, Bin.. Been so stressed lately.." The urge to run your hands down in between your legs.. To roll your clit around with your fingers until you're whimpering.. It's becoming stronger and stronger, and yet, you hold yourself back, instead choosing to bite down on your bottom lip.

A mix between a sharp intake of breath and a groan comes from his end of the phone, and now you're almost certain that what you're assuming, isn't entirely off base.

"I have a good way to deal with stress, if you're up for it, sweetheart.." Even more breathless than before, Changbin makes a suggestion that has your ears burning, brain melting into motionless mush. All you can do in response, is hum, no words used.

When he hears how out of breath you sound, the things it does to him..

"If at any point, you get uncomfortable, or want to stop, you tell me immediately, okay baby girl?"

Hearing him address you as such, pulls a whimper from the back of your throat, though it's a quiet one. Your legs are trembling, and you just know your bed is already a mess.

Hearing you whimper that way, is only egging him on even more. He's determined to take your stress away, even if it means finally crossing over the boundary line of 'friends'. When you respond back to him with another whimpered hum of approval, he smiles.

"That's a good girl.. You listen so well."

The praise drives you up the wall. He'd known for a long time that praise was always something you enjoyed, except it was for everyday things. Guess it carried over into sexual intimacy..

"Fuck.. You sound so needy right now baby.. You weren't kidding when you said you were pent up.." His voice is straining, head thrown back against the headboard of his hotel bed carelessly. He's getting wrecked from your noises alone. He can only imagine just how wrecked he'd be if he were able to see you..

That thought, gives him an idea.

"Jagi, can you do me a favor?" Regulating his breathing, he manages to ask this of you, hoping you'll be up for it.

"Mhm.." Your response is slow, drawn out, like your mind isn't all there, and just imagining that is making him unbearably hard.

"Turn your camera on for me?"

This has your legs wobbling, heart hammering against your chest like an uncontrollable beat of a drum.

Obliging in his request though, you do your best to set up your phone so that it's in a decent position, before you weakly pull your blankets over the already naked lower half of your body.

When your camera turns on, you hear him inhale sharply, before another soft curse echoes and bounces around in your ears. You wiggle your legs beneath the blanket and subconsciously bite down on your lower lip, somehow forgetting that your camera is on.

"You already look desperate baby girl.. God I wish I was there.. You want to know how I'd help you relieve your stress?" He asks, eyes locked onto the movement of your legs beneath that thin blanket that's embracing you like a cocoon.

It's embarrassing just how pathetic you sound when you beg him to tell you. Really, just how far gone are you..?

To him, your begging is like a siren's song, calling to him, luring him, forcing him to abandon all previous guilty thoughts from consuming his mind. It was clear to him that you wanted this.. Rather, needed this.

His eyes screw shut for a moment, hand wrapped firmly around his aching cock. He wants to see more of you, but finds himself far too shy to ask.

While he can be a bit demanding at times, as a joke.. When it comes to situations that closely relate to this one, the words seem to die on the tip of his tongue.

This, is not a joke.

It's real.

Very real.

You can sense the hesitance on the other end of the phone call. You know Bin, you've known him for a few years now if not more. You know all of his tells, what makes him tick, what he can and can't do. Ordering people around isn't one of his strong suits.. Not unless you give him a little push..

Taking it upon yourself to move things along, seeing as you're desperate at this point, you shift the blanket away from your trembling legs, slowly. The cool air of your bedroom crashes against your legs, making you hiss softly, but still the blanket continues its descent. When you're finally uncovered fully, it takes you all but a few seconds before your legs are spreading lasciviously, hooded eyes avoiding the camera even though you know his isn't on.

It's embarrassing, in a way. He's been your best friend for so long.. Never in that time period, has he actually seen you naked.

With warm cheeks, you sit there, wet, bothered, laid bare before your phone, hoping and praying that he doesn't feel disgusted by you.

"Oh.. Fuck..." Comes a whiny, breathless moan from his side of the call. "Baby.. Fuck.. You don't know how hard you're making me right now.." He continues, barely coherent enough for you to understand.

You reward him with a soft whimper of your own, hand twitching when you try to let it fall in between your legs, but suddenly stop.

Fuck.. This is so wrong..

"Baby." His voice is firm and much lower than it had been before, and it makes you feel like you've been put on the spot.

Without acknowledging the camera, a soft hum is what answers him.

"Look at me, pretty girl.." In a much softer voice now, Changbin coos, encouraging you to lift your head and slowly look towards the camera.

His camera is now on, and you can see just how flushed in the face he is. His usually tampered down hair has now become slightly disheveled, and his plump lips are parted. If looks alone could make you melt..

"That's a good girl.. Keep your eyes on me. Can you do that for me, Jagi?"

How could you possibly say no when he asks in such a soft way..

Eyes glued to the screen, you watch him fumble with his phone for a moment, but only briefly, before it's propped up on what you assume to be, the hotel's bedside table, and your legs softly squeeze together at what you see.

He's laying back in bed, head resting against the headboard, while one arm is resting to the side of him, the other, is currently preoccupied.. Your eyes trail down until you see his hand, which is currently grabbing hold of his cock, which is noticeably hard and slightly flushed at the tip.

Unbeknownst to you, a small noise of approval slips past your trembling lips, which catches his attention.

"Lay back for me, sweetheart.. Want you to get comfortable okay?"

You almost don't hear what he says, but are lucky enough that it's somehow able to break through the barrier of fog that surrounds your lust-heavy brain.

Doing as you're told, you lay back against the soft feathery pillows that line your bed, getting comfortable as requested, before you sit and wait patiently for more instructions.

Why this is so exciting to you, is beyond comprehension at the moment.

That's a problem for future you to solve.

"There we go.. Fuck.. You're so wet.. Did you try to cum before I called you?" It's meant to be a teasing question. He doesn't actually believe you tried to achieve an orgasm earlier on in the night.

What he isn't ready for..

Is the small, 'Yes', that wafts through his ears.

He tenses. Pupils blown wide at the thought of you trying and failing to make yourself cum just moments before he'd called.

"Wanted to cum so bad, Bin.. Couldn't.."

You sound absolutely wrecked.

He swears he could cum just from hearing you alone.

But he wants to draw this out. Wants you to get the most pleasure from this experience as possible.

"My poor baby... Couldn't make herself cum.." Still teasing, he smiles softly, tongue darting out to wet his lips before gripping his cock once more. "Don't worry baby, I'll make sure you cum.. The only thing you're going to be thinking about by the end of the night, is how hard you came for me.."

From these words alone, you already can't wait.

You swear, the few times you had thought about what Bin would be like in bed.. Which had only recently started.. You never imagined he would be as vocal as he was currently proving to be. It seemed he liked to talk. To make you feel like he was actually there with you.

God.. Imagining him actually being there with you, face in between your legs, mouth latched onto your clit while he spelled his full name into your dripping wet cunt, was definitely an image you wanted to keep embedded in your mind.

"What are you thinking about, baby girl?" Changbin interrupts your short-lived fantasies, grounding you back to reality.

Where the sudden confidence came from, you're not quite sure, but the shy you was now gone, replaced with bold and brash.

"Want your face in between my legs, Bin.." It comes out as a whine, one that nearly makes him cum right then and there. Not only did you sound fucking hot, but telling him you wanted to have his face buried in that pretty pussy of yours, was almost too much.

That seems to get him going..

Like, really going..

"Can't wait to come back, Jagi.. Gonna give you exactly what you want.. Eat that pretty pussy of yours.. Make you cum on my tongue.. Fuck.. Wanna taste you so bad.." He rambles, head thrown back as he gets off on the image in his mind. "Gonna make you cum so many times from my tongue alone, baby girl.. Gonna make you call my name over and over an- Shit.." Hissing, he has to let go of his cock momentarily. He'd almost made himself cum, and that's not the point of why he's even doing this in the first place.

Tonight is about you. His pleasure comes after.

"You really don't know what you do to me, Jagi.. I'm going crazy over here.. Wanna feel your pussy wrapped around my cock so so bad.." He whines dejectedly, hips thrusting up into absolutely nothing.

His arms look so fucking good to you right now. The way that they flex whenever he tenses up. God.. That, paired with the filthy words he's spewing, and the heavenly whines that grace your ears..

Finally, finally.. You don't hesitate or stop yourself when your hand reaches down in between your legs, fingers gathering up as much slick as possible, before allowing them to slowly brush against your aching clit.

"Oh God.." It's quiet, barely audible, but you see his lips moving and you read them well. The sight of you touching yourself is visibly having an affect on him.

You keep going, trying your hardest to keep your eyes set on him while your fingers lazily roll against your clit. Each soft touch makes you shiver and moan softly, and the thing that breaks the camel's back, is you whining his name when you rub your clit in a way that nearly makes you see stars.

"Wanna bury my cock in that pretty pussy baby.. Wanna hear you moan my name just like that.. Gonna fuck you so good.. Make you cum for me.. Feel you squeeze around me.. Mark you up.." At this point, he's just rambling. The filthy ways in which he talks to you, describes these things to you, is driving you mad.

All you can do is beg and plead for him to do all these things and more, all the while you continue to toy with your clit, fingers having been added to the mix. They're wet, covered in your own arousal, driving into your body with toe-curling pleasure.

Every hair on your body stands up, eyes watering with pent-up frustration and the need to cum.

You can feel the knot already beginning to build up in your stomach, but every time you think you're right on the precipice, it dies down and you're left whimpering like a dejected dog.

"Bin.. Need.. Need t' cum.. S-so.. Bad.." It comes out as a pitiful sob, tears springing to your eyes.

It's not that you aren't enjoying this, you really are..

God you are..

But you can't cum, and it's literally making you feel frustrated with yourself.

Almost immediately, Changbin slows down, hearing the desperation in your voice. He can see how watery your eyes are, how desperately you're fucking yourself on your fingers to try and finally reach that unobtainable orgasm, and it physically makes him ache to see you struggle.

"Baby girl.." He mutters, cock resting against his tummy while he tries to get your attention.

You stop all motions, peering into the camera with lidded dewy eyes, taking in the way sweat rolls down his biceps, how his chest is still rapidly rising and falling.. How hard he is despite being denied his own orgasm.

"There's my pretty girl, just look at me baby.. Listen to my voice, okay?" He's being so soft and gentle now. Compared to the filthy way he was talking to you not even ten seconds ago.

Easily, far too easily, you obey. You're head is so frazzled and heavy with lust and frustration that it takes you a minute to actually calm yourself down, but once it's obtained, you feel slightly better.

"You still want to cum for me, Jagi?" Still checking in with you, he asks this of you with a patient tone. He doesn't sound upset or angry. He doesn't even sound uninterested. He genuinely doesn't want to continue doing this unless you're comfortable.

"Please, Binnie.. Really need to.."

You even sound frustrated.. Right alongside desperate.

"Okay baby, can you lift up your shirt for me?" Once again, he's asking, not demanding.

It should be laughable just how easily you comply.

Lifting your shirt up, your breasts are freed from the fabric, bouncing just a little. Changbin sucks in a sharp breath on the other end of the call, but still manages to speak with a calm and soothing tone. "Good girl.. Now, I want you to play with your breasts a little.. Only use one hand.. I want the other hand to be playing with your clit, okay?"

His heart-rate has sky-rocketed. It's taking everything inside him not to start touching himself again, but he wants to focus on you.

No..

He needs to focus on you.

The way you slowly inch one hand up to play with and fondle your breasts, all the while your other one snakes down in between your legs, toying with your clit once more, has him shuddering.

Fuck.. He really thinks you're the prettiest. Even when you're all frustrated and desperate, on the verge of tears because you can't cum.

"That's my good girl.. Want you to go nice and slow for me, alright? Don't worry about not being able to cum.. I just want you to focus on how good it feels.. Can you do that for me?"

When he doesn't get a verbal answer, instead, just a simple nod of the head, he can tell you're already doing exactly as he requested.

You really were a good girl..

"There we go.. Want you to imagine I'm right there with you.. Want you to imagine it's me touching you like that.. Gonna give you kisses all over, baby.. Tell you how pretty you are, how beautiful you sound.."

The more he slowly and calmly explains everything, let alone describes everything, is painting a very vivid picture for you. The knot from before has finally resurfaced, but this time it doesn't feel so far away.

All you have to do.. Is keep listening to him talk, imagine everything he's explaining, then you'll finally be able to cum..

"You sound so fucking pretty.. Are you close, baby girl?" He can tell by the way your moans rise in pitch, that you've once again grown close to being pushed over the edge. He wants to hear it, wants to see it..

But he knows he also has to be patient.

"Mmm.. S-so.. Close.." You weakly mutter, eyes opening slightly to look into the camera once more.

When you look at him like that, he can't help but throw his head back, a rumbling groan being ripped from the back of his throat.

The entire time you've been playing with yourself, he'd finally resumed as well, going at the same pace you were to not only hold him back on his own orgasm, but to heighten the pleasure.

"Good girl.. Want you to cum for me.. Wanna see how pretty you look and sound when you cum baby.." His dirty talking picks up again, and he notices you've picked up the pace again, whimpering and quietly cursing.

He follows suit, stroking his cock while never taking his eyes off of you and your trembling body.

The knot feels like it's about to break apart at the seams. You swear you see white dots in your vision as well. Just this once, you're desperately trying to keep your eyes open so you can look straight at him as you come undone.

"Give it to me, please.. Need it so bad baby.. Please..? Please." Changbin is begging now, his own lewd noises picking up in volume. His head is thrown back against the headboard of his bed, eyes struggling to stay open and focused on you.

Who knew he could sound so heavenly when he was practically whining and pleading for you to cum for him..

"Shit.. Gonna cum, Jagi.." He warns in a high-pitched whine, his lips parted as his brows furrow together in concentration.

Rewarding his vocal warning with a whimper, you can't help but screw your eyes shut as the knot that felt on the brink of coming apart finally does just that. Your eyes are watery, leaking with satisfied tears, sweet cries, and whines of his name tumbling carelessly out of your mouth while your head is stuck on cloud nine.

You swear you haven't come nearly this hard for months, let alone years.

Intimacy wasn't a huge thing in your life.

The last boyfriend you'd had only really cared about his own pleasure and nothing else.

Following suit, Changbin falls apart when he hears how pretty you sound finally coming apart for him. Thick ropes of cum line the hand that's still subconsciously stroking at his cock, and the soft yet deep moans he releases are dripping with satiated hunger.

Fuck..

He hadn't meant to, but his eyes had screwed shut when you came, and he missed out on seeing how beautiful you looked during..

Both rooms are echoing with uneven breaths. He can hear just how windless you sound and wishes he could be there to help clean you up and give you the best aftercare. You really do sound tired now..

After a few beats of silence, he swallows thickly and finally moves to clean himself up.

God.. He really hadn't meant to make a mess like this.. Normally, he was smarter about these things. He was always prepared, but this time, it was more or less a spur of the moment thing that was driven by the insatiable need to cure you of your stress.

"Oh sweet girl.." He murmurs softly when he comes back into view of the camera, taking in your sleepy eyes. The fact that you still haven't moved an inch since coming apart really doubles down on the fact that he wishes he could be there to properly take care of you himself. "I know you're tired.. Really, I do.. But you gotta get yourself cleaned up, baby girl.." Practically cooing, he tries to urge you to stay awake for just a little while longer.

Your body feels mellowed out and weightless now. The stresses of the last few months have finally pushed past the sexual frustration, and all your body wants to do is rest.

He's right, though. Falling asleep in your own mess doesn't sound appealing in the slightest.

Feebly, you're barely able to hold yourself upright. Your legs feel like they'll collapse on themselves at any moment, but still, you push on, eager to get yourself cleaned up and taken care of so you can retreat back to the comfort and safety of your warm bed.

By the time you get finished with your business, now stepping back into the bed that had practically been giving you bedroom eyes, you're back in view of Changbin, who now has gray sweatpants on, a sleeveless black shirt covering his chest. When your sleepy eyes glide up and down the expanses of his arms, you hum softly. "Wanna bite your arms, Bin."

You sound drunk, but he knows it's just exhaustion. Still, the admittance makes him laugh quietly. "They're not for biting, though." With a raise of his brows, he looks at you with a heart-warming smile lifted up on his lips.

"Whatever.. Still wanna bite em" You lazily retort, now back to your snappy and playful self.

Burying your face in the plethora of pillows donning your bed, you're unable to keep your eyes open for much longer. The attempts you make to keep them open are all failures.

"You really are so pretty, Jagi.. Get some good sleep, I'll see you next week.." Just before you do doze off, Changbin whispers this into the phone, and your mind actually settles for once.

That's right..

He'll be back in Korea next week..

-

-

-

You know you shouldn't be so nervous to see him again. It's not like things had grown awkward between the two of you since that very dirty phone call last week..

He still texted you normally, still called you almost every night, nothing about him changed at all.

The only thing was, there was no more phone sex after that first time, and while, logically, you were fine with that, emotionally, you were starting to think that maybe things had grown awkward.

That was just you overthinking though.

It was supposed to be a surprise.

All of this.

Coming to his dorm with the other three he shared it with, gifts and snacks of all kinds perfectly donned in a woven basket.

Yet, before you could even knock on the door, someone had already opened it.

That someone had been none other than Chan.

"Oh? Didn't expect to see you here." Eyeing you up and down slowly(he's observing the basket of gifts), he takes a step back and lets you into the dorm, a soft smile on his face.

Offering a small smile in return, you thanked him for letting you through, before raising a quizzical brow at just how insanely quiet it was.

Having been here numerous times, this was perhaps the quietest it had ever been. Usually, things were chaotic. Once you put Changbin, Chan, and Han, all in the same room together, your sense of peace would be knocked down almost immediately. Not that it bothered you, nor did you mind. In fact, seeing Changbin in his element had brought you so much joy.

"Where is everyone?" With Chan following not too far behind you, he sucks in a short breath and laughs a bit awkwardly.

"Well, Han and Hyunjin are more than likely fast asleep in their rooms... Changbin, I think he went to the gym. He should be back in a few minutes, he's been gone for a bit."

"Ah.. I see. How was the tour for you guys? Did you have fun?" Trying to make small talk with Chan is always easy. He's someone who you know you can go to for a lot of things. He's kind of like a protective barrier for everyone in his group.

At this, Chan's face lights up almost immediately, and he starts to talk about how much fun he had. His love for his job and Stay genuinely is admirable, at least in your eyes.

Losing track of time, you hardly realize that your phone is ringing, until Chan points it out, laughing softly when you try and nearly fail, to wrangle your phone out of your pocket. The caller I.D. makes your stomach do back flips the moment you see who it is, and you have to excuse yourself from Chan's presence in order to not further embarrass yourself.

"Where are you, cutie?"

Almost immediately, your cheeks warm, and the basket of gifts you hold wavers in your hands.

Ever since that night, his voice has had more of an affect on you than you'd like to admit to yourself.

"Why you askin'?" Teasing him playfully, while also trying to keep where you're at a secret, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the giddy laugh that threatens to slip past.

"Did you forget what I told you last week on the phone?" The smile is definitely there, you can practically hear it in the way he speaks.

When he asks this though, your stomach suddenly drops, panic zig-zagging it's way through your veins as you remember what he'd said. He was gonna plan a whole day for just the two of you when he got back, and it had completely slipped your mind.

"Shit.. I was going to try and surprise you.. I'm at your dorm with Chan." Cursing, you rush back out to where you and Chan had been sitting, only to realize he's no longer there. He probably went to sleep or work on music.. He always works so hard.

"Well that's definitely awkward.. I'm sorry I wasn't there, Jagi.. Do you need me to meet you halfway to your place?" There's a pang of regret slithering around in his stomach when he hears how dejected you sound. It was just a miscommunication thing. Both parties had tried to achieve a surprise for being back, but both had hilariously failed. When all was said and done, he knew you'd both look back on this moment and laugh about it.

Even though you protest heavily to having Changbin meet you halfway to your place, he does so anyway. That's what you aren't expecting when you nearly jump out of your own skin because he decided to sneak up behind you.

Though, you're far too busy really looking at him to be angry.

He's still the same Binnie you've known for years on end..

Just, seeing him in person after all the nasty things he said to you on the phone..

It's hard to actually not break eye-contact with him.

"No hug?" Pouting, he juts out his bottom lip, holding his arms out to you while making a grabby motion with his hands.

It takes a few seconds to process, but when it finally does, you rush forward and give him the biggest hug ever. Honestly, this one might just top all the hugs you've given him in the past.

"Any harder and you may choke me to death, Jagi." Laughing, he hugs you back, hard, but not so hard that he hurts you. It's comforting, safe, it feels like you're meant to be here, and honestly, you wouldn't want to have it any other way.

"Shut up and accept my hug.. I missed you." Releasing a soft breath into his chest, you smile and fake a pout.

You see him roll his eyes, but smile nonetheless. "Missed me, huh? Now where have I heard that before?"

What a low blow..

The comment makes your cheeks warm, eyes widening ever so slightly as you make an attempt to pull away and scold him for being a tease. Though, he doesn't give you the chance to escape his embrace.

"Nope. Not letting go. I just got you back, think I'm gonna make it that easy?" Ignoring your protests, he lightly drags you along with him, arm wrapped around your shoulders while he steers you back in the direction of your home.

You want to be mad at him.

You want to scold him.

But he's got a point.

Not to mention, you really don't want him to let go..

Only when you get inside, does Changbin finally release you from his grip, but it's only momentary. As soon as you set down the woven basket of gifts and snacks you'd prepared for him, he takes that opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist and hoist you up, basically throwing your body over his shoulder with far too much ease.

"Bin!? What the hell!" You refrain from banging your fists against his back.

He has an image to uphold and the last thing you want in the news is claims of someone 'Mistreating Stray Kid', Seo Changbin.'

Even though you do put up a fight, he takes it with a grain of salt, effortlessly carrying you until he sets you down on the couch. Things move quickly after that, or at least that's what your brain thinks. It may just be the fact that your brain is processing things far slower than usual.

By the time you're both comfortable, Changbin has you on his lap, facing him, and the compromising position has your head feeling dizzy.

How and why was he acting so bold?

He just got back from tour..

Is he not tired?

"Bin I-"

"Can I kiss you, please?" Out of thin air, he asks a very daring question, making you pause what you were about to ask him yourself, eyes locked onto his own with a puzzled yet heavily excited way.

"What's up with you today, Bin..? You're being so-"

"Is it wrong for me to miss my baby girl after not having seen her for months?" His hands slide up the sides of your legs, resting atop your waist. "Is it wrong for me to want to kiss my pretty girl..?" Now he's not so subtly looking at your lips, before his eyes dart back up to yours rather quickly.

His questions catch you off guard.

All the 'My baby girl', 'My pretty girl', talk is going straight to your cunt, and it shouldn't be.

His hands are softly kneading at the meat of your thighs, coaxing you, assuring you that he promises not to be too rough with you, and that's all it takes for you to give him a small nod of the head.

Within moments after answering, his lips are on yours, and they're soft, gentle, non-invasive.

You're the one who gets far too eager in a matter of seconds. Your hands reach up to thread through his hair, tugging some of the strands as your lips move much harder against his own.

The soft whimper that comes from him as a result of you just tugging at a few strands of hair on his head, has you shaking atop his lap.

He makes such pretty sounds..

In general, he's so fucking pretty, both inside and out.

When he opens his mouth, your tongue effortlessly finds its way inside, melting against his in a dance that you can only call, 'I missed you.'

Both of you really had missed one another, that was very clear.

"You're so needy. What's up with that?" Bin laughs when you both pull away to catch your breath.

Not only do you find yourself embarrassed at just how right he is, but now you feel like you're doing way too much. You have to take into consideration that he just got back from a pretty lengthy trip.

"M' sorry, we can stop.. Just missed you a lot is all." When you try to remove yourself from atop his lap, his arms wrap around your waist fully, preventing you from moving any further. The puzzled look you give him only makes him shake his head 'No'.

"Wasn't telling you to stop. Wasn't even implying that either, Jagi.. Stay put for me." With lidded eyes, he pulls you back the few inches you'd managed to give way to, his lips smashing against your own once more. This time though, he breaks away early, trailing his lips down the expanse of your neck, rewarding you with soft kisses and small love-bites along the way.

As much as you try not to make noise, it's impossible. His lips feel amazing against your skin. He pulls sweet sounds from the back of your throat, your eyes screwed shut as he continues to mark your neck.

By the time he finally pulls away from you, he's panting very faintly, observing the work he's made of your neck. Each bite and kiss that he planted held so much behind it.

"Look so pretty.. Wanna give you more, baby.. Will you let me give you more? Please?" It's whiny and pitched, but he doesn't care.

All he wants to do is kiss and mark every single inch of your body.

Take his time.

Make sure you're begging for him by the end of it.

Though, he thinks he'll save that for another day.

So much time passes where Changbin is kissing and marking up nearly every inch of your upper body, pulling moans and whimpers from you left and right.

Your head is in a constant state of frenzied lust, hoping he'll go further.

When he hisses after you accidentally rub your knee against his still fully clothed hard-on, your attention shifts. No longer do you want to be on the receiving end of this attention..

He deserves some too..

Wordlessly, you remove yourself from his lap. He's too spaced out to stop you properly this time. When you wedge yourself in between his legs, struggling to get the knot of his sweatpants undone, he laughs and pulls your hand away, eyes dark, pupils blown wide. "What are you trying to do, baby?" The look he holds in his eyes is far from scrutinizing.

He knows what you're up to, he just wants to hear it come from your mouth.

"Please.. Wanna make you feel good too, Bin.. S' not fair that I get it all.." With a raised voice, you beg him for permission to make him feel good. He's silent for a moment, arms tensing when he hears you beg him like that. Unsure if he heard you, or simply forgot to answer, you sidle up the most pleading face you can muster, before whispering, "Wanna suck your cock, Bin.. Please?"

That seems to finally get him to give in.

With a rumbling groan, he undoes the knot of his sweatpants, hands shaking while he does so.

He must really be worked up..

"You wanna be a good girl and suck my cock, Jagi?" His voice is rough, dripping with copious amounts of lust as he pushes his pants and boxers down. His eyes, the entire time, are on you, staring down at your face as if you're the prettiest fucking thing in the room.

Seeing it in person is far different than seeing it over the phone.

It's thick, head flushed, already leaking with pre-cum from your previous actions.

Looking up at him once more, your face screams, 'Please', with which he is more than happy to oblige.

Your movements are slow and calculated, hand wrapping around his cock when he finally brings his own away. As soon as you touch him, he sucks in a breath, a whiny, 'Fuck baby..' slipping past his wet lips. The notion only serves to make you more confident, and you keep going, pulling your head closer, all while looking up at him through wet lashes.

"Look so pretty.. So so p-" His words taper off into a moan when you finally wrap your mouth around the head. "Mmm, that's a good girl.. Your mouth already feels so good.." He whines helplessly, hips bucking up slightly, but not enough to hurt you.

Humming at the praise he gives you, heat pools in between your legs and you make sure to go nice and slow when moving your mouth further down the length of his cock.

By the time he's almost fully inside, he's panting and whimpering, hands gripping at the couch cushions on either side. His cheeks are flushed, the tips of his ears a pretty shade of pink.

"Ah... S-slow down, baby.." Attempting to thread his fingers through your hair to stop you from moving, the action fails, his arm falling right back to his side when you lewdly remove your mouth from his twitching cock. "Brat.." He mutters once he's able to catch his breath.

It was only fair. He teased you constantly. Even before this whole.. Whatever it was.. There was no label on it at the moment.. He teased you relentlessly. That's not to say it wasn't reciprocated, but you didn't tease nearly as much as he did.

Ignoring his comment, you brought him to your mouth once more, making sure to look him directly in the eyes as your tongue darted out, a long stripe being licked along the underside of it. The whine mixed with a rumbling groan that graced your ears was downright sinful.

He looked as though he was going to say something again, but just as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, you embraced his cock with your mouth, actually taking it to it's fullest this time.

"Oh my.. Ffffuuckk.." Long, drawn-out moans slipped past his lips at this, head thrown back against the back of the couch.

His grip on your couch cushions is deadly. His knuckles are white, and the fabric below just looks like it'll tear, but you know it won't.

It gets messy.. Way too messy..

But you enjoy yourself, and you know he's enjoying it too, if his loud whimpers and moans, and the occasional call of your name is enough to hint at anything.

Surprisingly, he's been able to hold off on coming down your throat, but he doesn't want to do that unless you're okay with it.

Considering how eagerly you're sucking him off, he'd probably guess that's your goal.

"B-baby girl.. Where d-do you want me t' cum..?" He's just barely able to get it out.

Your mouth feels so fucking good.. He can only imagine how heavenly it'll feel to have his cock buried deep inside your pussy.

That thought alone has him whimpering again, cock twitching in your mouth while you look at him with sweet wet eyes.

You can't answer him verbally, so you show him.

Keeping your mouth wrapped tightly around him, your tongue lathes up and down the sides as best as possible, and you're hoping he gets what you're trying to tell him.

Thankfully, he does.

"That's a good fucking girl.. Want me to cum in this pretty little mouth?" With a breathy sigh, his hips begin to involuntarily thrust upwards, pushing himself impossibly deeper down your throat.

Though, you can't complain.

If anything, it's only making you even more aroused.

All you can possibly do is hum around him, the vibrations making him grit his teeth and whine, cock twitching even more violently.

You know he's about to cum when his thrusts start to grow uneven and ragged. He's so desperate with the way he's using your mouth that it's damn near unbearable to not reach down in between your legs to alleviate the throbbing pain of your clit.

"That's it.. Good girl.. Good girl.. Such a good girl for me baby.. Fuck your mouth feels so good.. Gonna..-" He tapers off, cock twitching one final time in your mouth before you feel his cum slide down your throat. The entire time, he holds your head gently with his hands to keep you in place, soft whines and whimpers escaping his mouth.

It takes him a bit to finish all the way though, keeping you still for a few moments before he finally pants and leans back, releasing his hold on your head. You take this moment to pull away from his cock with a lewd pop, swallowing every last bit he'd given you.

He doesn't need time to recover, apparently..

When he lifts you up and makes it so that you're now taking his place, your mind feels discombobulated for a brief moment, eyes peering up at him as he hovers above you on the couch. "You're perfect.. Really. I mean it.." Such sweet words from someone who was talking so crudely into your ears just moments before. "I'm gonna give you exactly what you want.. Remember what you told me last week?" With sultry eyes, he trails his way down to the hem of your shorts, hooking his fingers into the waistband before he begins to push them down agonizingly slow.

Yes, you do remember.

How could you forget.

The images are still ingrained into your mind.

"Promise to be gentle with you baby.. Promise.." He sounds like he's more or less reassuring himself rather than you.

Either way though, the only thing on your mind right now, is how badly you want him.

By the time he gets your shorts off all the way, he's sucking in a breath, pupils blown at the sight laid before him. You're so wet.. So wet that it's literally seeping through your undergarments.

The sight seems so surreal to him at the moment, and he finds himself bringing two fingers forward, gliding them gently through your clothed folds before shivering.

He wasn't imagining things.

You were really sopping wet.

"That's so hot.." Changbin more or less whispers to himself, though he knows you hear it because your legs squish together, the meat of your thighs more prominent now.

It's embarrassing how your undergarments basically refuse to disconnect from your skin when he tries to take them off of you. Really.. The warmth in your cheeks is unbearable. Though when he praises you and whispers some hushed words of reassurance, all of that embarrassment is replaced with the aching need to have him touch you, kiss you, do something.. Anything.

"Bin.. Please.." After having not used your voice in the past ten or fifteen minutes, it sounds scratchy and foreign to you.

"Be patient baby, I promise I'm not gonna stop until I make you cum a few times.. Promise.." Again, he's muttering, so enraptured by your wet cunt that it's hard for him to really concentrate fully.

He wants to start slow, build you up, then just make you crash down.. So, naturally, he starts with the inside of your thighs, leaving delicate kisses and bites all around the skin there. "My baby has such pretty thighs.." He whispers, moving down to your calves.

The same treatment goes to them, kisses and love-bites being embedded into your skin with thoughtful love and care. "Such pretty calves..." Every area his lips linger on, he praises. It never stops, not even when he gets down to your ankles. "Pretty girl.. So pretty.. Every single inch of you is so fucking pretty baby.."

When it seems he's getting nowhere, instead choosing to draw this out and tease you until you physically and mentally can't take it anymore, his body lays comfortably down across the couch, your legs caging his head in between them.

It's got you squirming in place when you see and feel his mouth hovering right above where you want him.

"Be as loud as you need to be baby.. Let me hear you, hm?"

Cheeky bastard..

Without giving you much time to process, his lips latch onto your clit almost immediately, and the squeak it forces out of you is so loud that you instinctively cover your mouth with your hand, or at least attempt to..

When he sees this, one of his arms flies out to grab at your wrist, gently pulling your hand away from your mouth while his lips are still latched onto your cunt. The warning look in his eyes makes you feel like someone who's getting reprimanded for doing something they definitely shouldn't have.

His tongue is relentless, lathing around your folds and clit like he's a man starved. Your taste is heavenly. He really doesn't think he could ever get tired of it. The noises he's able to pull out of you are only working him up again, his hips occasionally grinding into the couch while he eats you out.

He feels light-headed, fuzzy.

More.

That's all that runs through his brain.

He wants more.

Wants to taste you more, wants to keep your cunt pressed up against his face, your clit haphazardly hitting the tip of his nose.

You can see the imaginary stars in his eyes while he eats your cunt like it's the last thing he'll ever get.

He's making noises, the vibrations sending tingling chills up and down your spine as you helplessly moan and cry his name. Every time it's his name he hears, his tongue fucks into your cunt, his eyes set entirely on you the entire time. Not once does his gaze waver.

It's like he's in a trance, body acting of its own accord.

"G-gonna cum.. B-Bin!" Your eyes are watery, voice cracking and stumbling while you try to warn him of your impending orgasm. It doesn't stop him, nor does it slow him down, rather, it only seems to make him speed up.

You're a mess, tears springing to your eyes as you watch him, tangling your fingers through his hair and accidentally tugging when his tongue brushes right up against your clit in a way that has you seeing white dots in your vision.

This rewards you with a deep moan that presses right up against your clit, and the knot instantly comes undone.

The words that tumble and fall past your lips are anything but coherent. You're even sobbing. It feels so good.

Changbin feels your legs subconsciously press his head even closer to your pussy when you cum, and he swears he's coming right alongside you.

In reality, he isn't, but fuck, he wishes he was..

When his lips finally do disconnect from your pussy, there's a mix between his saliva and your juices coating his chin and lips. He doesn't make an effort to wipe it off just yet.

When he gets out from in between your legs, only then does he finally wipe his mouth, muttering something under his breath about how good you taste.

You're breathless, panting against the arm of the couch like a whore, but, if it was with him, you honestly didn't care.

"Gonna clean you up, okay baby? I'll be right back." At this, he begins to walk away from you, but hearing that makes you whine.

"Wait.. Bin.. Come back, please?"

He turns around and kneels beside the couch, worry furrowed in his brows. "What's wrong, Jagi..?"

It's not there's anything wrong, per say..

Rather, you want more still.. You're not entirely satiated yet.

"Want more.. Please?" You ask in a soft voice, pleading with your eyes if words aren't enough.

When he bites down on his bottom lip and looks down at the floor, you retreat and add, "If you don't want to.. I'm okay with that, ju-"

"Jagi.. I hate it when you do that. Don't backtrack just because you think it'll make me feel uncomfortable or weird. If I was, I promise I'd tell you."

He snakes his way atop your body once more, eyes traversing their way up and down your body.

Really, he wants to wait to give you everything.. But right now, all he can think about is how good it will feel to have your pussy wrapped around his cock.

When he leans down to capture your lips with his own once again, the decision is made fairly quickly.

"You really are needy.." He whispers low, leaning his forehead against yours. "Tell me what you want, baby girl.. I'll give it to you.."

Hearing you beg is the most wonderful thing for him to hear.

"Want you Bin.. Want you so bad." Your eyes screw shut and your body trembles. "What you told me you were gonna do t' me on the phone.. Want you to do everything and more.." It's said with conviction. You mean every last bit of it.

"Yeah? Wanna cum on my cock, baby?" His own breath is beginning to pick up, eyes screwing shut while his forehead still rests against yours. "Want me to fuck you like I really missed you..?" When his eyes fly open, he sees and feels your legs tremble with need.

That's enough of an answer for him.

"Say it. Please... Please baby.. Tell me.." Once again, he finds himself whining and begging you instead of the other way around.

Not one to disappoint, lips part once more to shakily whisper, "Wanna cum on your cock.. Want you to fuck me.. Show me how much you missed me, Bin.."

The sinful cry that slips past his lips when you say it should embarrass him, but it doesn't. He's got you right where he wants you now. Wordlessly, he situates you so that you're now propped over the arm of the couch, ass arched into the air. You're too aroused to even care about the new position, the only thing on your mind, him finally giving you exactly what you want.

"Want you to tell me if it's too much pretty girl.." He says this low. Breathless and uncoordinated is how he sounds.

With a nod of the head, you show your understanding, before you feel him shift behind you, his fingers unconsciously moving to feel how wet you are.

He's growing impatient, but he wants to be gentle with you, wants this to be more than a quick fuck..

Lining his cock up with your pussy, he nearly loses his composure when the tip just barely catches against it, a small whimper escaping his throat.

He's toying with you, lazily dragging his cock against the folds of your cunt at an agonizingly slow pace. When you go to beg him to just do something, it seems he already had that in mind, when the tip of his cock finally catches and he pushes in slowly.

The entire time he slowly pushes his cock inside of you, he watches how it disappears, how your cunt greedily takes every single inch he's giving to you. There are no words, he can't form any. His mouth is stuck partially open, watching in awe as he slowly buries himself to the hilt inside your wet pussy.

When he's all the way inside, he finally releases a shaky 'Fuck', that has you whimpering beneath him.

"God you feel so good.. M' trying not to cum too soon baby.." He says through gritted teeth. He's standing absolutely still behind you. One wrong move and he's afraid he really will cum.. Right before he even gets to do anything, too.

How can your pussy feel this good..?

He's practically drowning in it already and all he did was put it in..

"Big.." He hears the end of what you say, and it bails him out of his thoughts.

"What was that baby girl? You're gonna have to speak up for me.." He coos, desperate to hear what it was you said.

"Fuck.. So big.." You repeat once more, legs trembling uncontrollably.

For you, he's definitely bigger than most..

It feels so fucking good, and you're clenching around him even though he isn't even moving. You really really want him to move.. Wanna feel the drag of his cock as he fucks into you..

"You're gonna drive me crazy baby girl.. Fuck.. Don't say things like that.." Whining, his hips involuntarily buck at the praise he receives, pushing his cock even deeper within your soft walls. "You're so tight.. So wet.. Gotta move.." He's talking to himself now at this point, so drunk off of your pussy already that he can't think straight.

Pulling back slowly, he's almost out entirely, until he pushes back in even slower than before, savoring the feeling of your walls enshrouding his cock like a warm vice. "That's it.. That's a good girl.. Taking me so so well.." Now his voice is slightly more level, but the whiny pitch is still there.

On your end, you're seeing stars, vision dotting and eyes beginning to water.

It's impossible to think clearly when his dick is buried inside you, as he had promised over the phone the other day.

It was one thing to say something.. But to actually follow through with it..

It was definitely far better than anything your imagination had conjured up, that was one definitive fact.

His thrusts were slow, gentle, tender, everything that described the word 'Soft' perfectly. Each time he felt your walls clench around him, he whined or stuttered, hips crashing against your ass and changing the speed.

Overall, he was trying his hardest to be slow. He wanted to take his time and feel you.

Really feel you..

"You're so good for me.. Listen to how pretty you sound taking my cock baby girl.. Want you to be as loud as you want, Jagi. Don't hold back for me.. Need to hear you, please.." Babbling and rambling on and on, he forces himself to keep up with the slow and steady pace, mind nearly going blank from how good it feels.

As soon as your noises pick up, he feels even more lost, even more incapacitated.

He wants to stay like this for as long as possible..

"Yeah? There we go my pretty baby.. There we go.. Keep making those pretty fucking noises for me.. God I can't do this.. Need more baby.. Please? Will you let me give you more..? Want to so fucking bad.." If it's a statement or a question is beyond either of you at this point.

"Please please please.." The word tumbles past your lips in a repetitive trance, no other words able to lodge themselves into the forefront of your hazed mind.

Without another word, or even a warning, his pace increases, and he's grabbing one of your legs to hold up while he fucks himself deeper into your sopping wet cunt.

Instinctively, your body tries to shy away from his with the new change in pace, but he doesn't let you, his grip on your leg firm yet gentle. "Love this pretty fucking pussy.. It's taking me so well.. So fucking well baby.. So warm.. Wet.. Tight.. F-fuck.. Wanna fuck you all night.. Make you cum so many times for me.." It's garbled up nonsense that spews from his mouth, but it excites you and turns you on even more. "Love seeing this pretty ass.. Love watching it bounce back on my cock.. Love feeling how tight you grip me.. God you're driving me crazy.."

You can't speak at this point. The new position, his filthy words, the praise... All of it is too much for your brain to handle.

If you're being entirely honest with yourself, he's turned you into a big pile of mush.

Rightful place for you to be..

When he grows tired of that position, he settles you into a new one where he's in between your legs, pushing into you slowly once more while he keeps his eyes on the way your breasts rapidly rise and fall in time with your breathing.

Every time he sinks into your pussy, he swears his brain goes damn near dumb..

"So wet for me.. S' coating my thighs baby.." Another whimper from him that forces you to open your eyes and look at where the two of you are connected.

He isn't wrong. His thighs are glistening with your slick and the sight alone is enough to make you throw your head back against the arm of the couch.

The knot in your stomach is already on the verge of breaking. You're not even sure when it had even started to build. When your whines and moans pick up in speed and volume, he picks up his pace, hips crashing into yours with a tender ferocity that's making your eyes water. "G-gonna cum.. G-gonna c-cum.." If it weren't for the fact that you were currently sobbing from how good it felt, then you're almost positive you would've been more clear and concise with your warning..

Unfortunately for him, you'd been far too quiet for him to hear.

One particular thrust of his hips and his cock is dragging against that sweet-spot of yours that has that knot finally tearing itself apart, and you come hard, eyes screwing shut as more tears leak down your cheeks.

Impossibly tight and gripping him hard, he has to slow himself down before he comes too, his own whines mixing in with yours. "Shit.. Pussy's too good.. Can't.." With a shaky breath, he quickly removes himself from inside you, panting and letting small, broken whimpers slip past his wet lips. "Don't wanna cum yet.. Can't.. Need more.. Can't get enough of you.."

Even when your orgasm ends, you still crave him, and he can see it written all over your face. The heat radiating from both of your bodies is enough to put anyone to shame..

This side of Changbin, is definitely new to you..

He's so drunk off of you that he's mumbling and muttering to himself or to you at an almost consistent rate.

You're the same way. Unable to think properly, move your mouth properly, hell, even blink properly.

"My needy baby.. You still want more, don't you? It's written all across your face.." When he manages to catch his breath, he decides to tease you a little bit, a small smile curling up against his lips.

You're far too fucked out to reply.

The furrow in your brow tells him everything he needs to know.

You're insatiable.

This time when he pushes his cock into your cunt, he isn't slow about it.. He's anything but.

"That's it.. Love this pussy.. Can't get enough of it.. Wanna be buried inside it every single night.." Incoherently he babbles on and on, his pace unforgiving and jarring right from the get-go.

The dirty talk is making you clench, and every time you do, he notices.

"Dirty girl.. You like when I talk to you like this..? Praise you? Tell you how good this pretty little pussy is? How well it takes my cock..?" He's no longer whining, voice level and calm despite the rough way with which he's fucking you.

"Yes.. yes.. Please.." You don't know what you're begging for anymore, but it just feels right in the moment.

"Fuck baby.. I'm gonna cum soon.. Really wanna cum inside.. Wanna fill you up.. Give you everything.. Make you an eomma.." He knows it's not actually possible nor obtainable for him to actually make you one, but the thought has him rutting carelessly against you, cock twitching and trembling beneath your walls.

It seems the thought excites you too, because you clench around him, hard..

"Yeah..? You want me to make you an eomma, Jagi? Want me to fill you up and make sure nothing comes out..? I'll go for as long as you want baby, fill you up as many times as I can.. Wanna make you an eomma so so bad.."

He sounds so whiny and incoherent, babbling over and over again about how much he wants to make you a mom, and it was pushing you towards the edge once more.

This time when you cum, there is no warning, only that of your walls tightly gripping his cock for the second time.

He doesn't know how he doesn't come just from that, but he's glad he doesn't..

He gets to be even more drunk on your pussy, fucking you through your orgasm while you moan and mumble his name like a prayer into the space of the living room without a care in the world nor a thought behind your eyes.

By the time you're reaching the end of your high, he reaches his, quickly pulling out of you with a whiny breath. All it takes is a few more pumps and he's coming undone, ropes of thick cum coating your tummy and breasts. No words are spoken, just heavy breaths and panting fill the air, his cock now sensitive to the touch.

Hissing when he removes his hand, he looks at you fully, and fights the urge to kiss you. You look completely fucked out, eyes barely open, breathing labored, hair a complete mess... Not to mention that you're covered in his mess..

"You did so well for me, Jagi.. Really, I'm proud of you.." He coos softly, arms lifting your legs so he can untangle himself from in between them.

Humming softly at the praise, you watch him stand from the couch, a goofy yet endearing grin on his face. "I'll be right back.. Gonna grab some towels to clean you up with.. We can cuddle in bed afterwards alright?"

He speaks softly, so softly that it makes your heart swell.

When he disappears, you just lay there, half-awake, desperately trying to fight off sleep.

By the time he comes back, you're almost asleep, but awake enough to feel him run a warm washcloth delicately across your body, cleaning up any mess that was made. The whole time he does this, he softly praises you, calling you a 'Good girl', telling you, 'You did such a good job for me baby, just relax.. There we go..'

When he's finished, you are just barely able to open your eyes, only to find that he's once again fully clothed.

He sees how tired you are, and takes it upon himself to pick you up, figuring you'd just fall if you tried to stand up straight.

"It's okay, Jagi.. Just rest, you deserve it. Did so well for me.." He whispers, turning into your bedroom. When he finally gets to your bed, he's lifting the covers with one hand, pushing them away to allow space for your exhausted body.

He lays you down gently and then pulls the covers up, making sure you're comfortable before he gets in beside you, holding you close to him with a content sigh.

"I love you, Jagi.. Sleep well.. I'll be here when you wake up.."

-

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-

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(I'm soooo sorry if it ended abruptly.. I've been working on this for awhile and tried my best not to rush it.. I hope you all liked it!)

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where finding how you fit is a little like a puzzle-the 100,000 piece kind, not the 100 piece kind. or The twenty-seventh installment of the SKZ!Pack Prequel series

Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, SKZ!Pack, Pack!Prequel, Skz!Pack Prequel, ABO, A/B/O, Omegaverse, Series, OT8, Bang Chan, Lee Minho, Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin, Lee Felix, Han Jisung, Kim Seungmin, Yang Jeongin, Fluff, Angst, Skz imagines, Skz scenarios, FemReader

Genre: Light Angst, Fluff

A/N: I'm back! Sorry guys, I know it's been SOOOOO Long and yall have probably forgotten/given up on me, but I had to take a little sabbatical to keep my head above water in real life. But I've been here! Stalking and reading and checking comments and reblogs and messages. I love yall! <3 Thanks for being so patient with me!

Title: Call Me Anything at All, Just Don't Call Me Yours

“Dude, your fucking beta is killing me here.” 

You glance up as Jisung joins the cafeteria table, plopping down between Changbinn and Hyunjin, clearly frustrated about something, his voice a plaintive whine.

Changbin’s brow creases in slight confusion. “My beta? What, you mean Seungmin?” 

“Who else would I be fucking talking about?” Jisung grumbles, shooting a glare in the alpha’s direction, as he rips open the packet that contains his silverware with a little more force than necessary. 

“You, technically.” Felix points out helpfully from further down the table, giving Jisung a slightly teasing grin. 

“Yeah, ha ha, I’m killing myself, real funny, Lix.” Jisung mocks back, though his tone softens a little as he addresses the omega, because that’s just the effect Felix has on everyone. 

Jisung turns back to Changbin, slapping his palms down on the table. “But seriously, he’s weird as shit. Hot and cold all the time, man. I don’t ever know where I stand with him-not really-kind of like with Minho-hyung.” 

Beside you, Minho snorts softly. “Please, you’re always on thin fucking ice with me, Han Jisung. You know that.” 

Jisung shoots Minho an annoyed look, but continues badgering Changbin. “You gotta tell me the secret to crack the code, hyung. One second, I think we’re friends, the next, the guy barely has two words to say to me.” 

Changbin gives a slight shrug. “That’s just how Seungmin is.” 

You nod in agreement. “Yeah, trust me, Sungie, Seungmin is a tough nut to crack. We’ve been friends for a long time-study partners for longer-and there’s still days I think he’d rather murder me than be sat across the table from me. He’s hard to read, he keeps his feelings close to his chest.” 

“He’s also a slow mover.” Changbin points out. “Really takes his time to think things through, all the pros and cons, before he acts.” 

Minho snorts again, not looking up from his food. “Maybe he’s deciding the cons list is longer than the pros when it comes to being packmates with you, Jisung.” 

“Plus, he’s not all that affectionate. Skinship is kind of a struggle for him.” You remark thoughtfully, an observation you’ve had the longer you’ve gotten to be around Seungmin as a packmate, and not just a library buddy. 

He really only lets Changbin touch him openly. Maybe it’s a side effect of the whole moonmate thing. 

Biology. 

Jisung takes a swig of his soda and considers for a moment, furrowing his brow. “Well, have you guys been-” He clears his throat, motioning slightly with his hands in a flapping motion toward Changbin. “-you know, intimate?” 

You clear your throat at that, interjecting, trying to save Changbin the embarrassment of answering that question. “Intimacy can be a lot of things, Jisungie, you know, like when you and I and Seungmin showered together, or when Chan scents us, or trusting someone enough to talk to them about difficult subjects-” Hyunjin leans around the beta and stares directly at Changbin now. “No, he’s asking if you’ve fucked.” 

Down the table, Chan chokes on his food, and Jeongin openly covers a cackle with a well timed cough. 

Next to you, Minho mutters beneath his breath, “Jesus Christ.” 

Changbin clears his throat hard, and you note the tips of his ears going a bright red. “Well, yeah.” He gives a shrug, as if it’s not a big deal, but the way his muscles stiffen tells you he’d rather be anywhere but here right now, talking about this.

“You don’t have to talk about this, Bin-” Chan starts softly, shooting Jisung a warning look that practically screams head alpha.

Changbin waves him off, and Chan’s hackles visibly relax a little.

“He likes you, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Changbin assures Jisung, throwing an arm around his shoulders and ruffling his hair with a large hand. “All of you. He’s just a little more cautious when it comes to showing it. With me, there’s the weird biological pull of moonmates or whatever, but with the rest of you, you just gotta be patient. But he likes you. He’s told me.” 

Jisung sighs, relaxing slightly at the alpha’s touch. “Fine. As long as there’s hope that one day we can fuck in your studio, I can live with that.” 

Changbin removes his arm so quickly from around the beta’s shoulders that it’s like he’s been burned. “Please don’t do that.” 

Jisung shoots him a wink. “No promises.” 

“Apparently he’s into degradation in bed if that makes you feel any better.” Hyunjin remarks offhandedly, picking at his salad with his fork. “You probably couldn’t handle that anyway.” 

Changbin chokes a little, glaring over Jisung’s head at the luna. “Hyun, you promised me when I told you that in confidence-” Changbin’s voice drops to a hiss. “-that you wouldn’t talk about it!” 

Hyunjin gives a slight shrug, glancing around at everyone’s stunned reactions. “What? There’s no secrets in the pack right?” 

Jisung’s jaw is on the floor. 

“He what?” 

“Oh my god.” Chan groans from down the table, fingers already kneading between his brows, staving off an oncoming headache. “This is not appropriate lunchroom conversation-” 

“Okay, okay.” You wave your hands. “You’re gonna give Chan an aneurysm. Let’s table the kink talk for a more private time and location, okay?” 

“Hah.” Jeongin snorts softly. “Table.” 

Minho elbows him hard. 

******

You’re watching Jisung practice something on his skateboard in front of the dorms-a kickflip maybe? You can’t remember what he called it-chin in hand, open textbook unread in your lap. 

“Shit.” Jisung swears as the skateboard clatters away from him once more, and he sighs, tucking it under his arm and coming to sit down beside you on the cold concrete of the steps. 

He bumps his shoulder into yours. “Why the long face?” 

You glance sidelong at him, wrinkling your nose slightly. “I don’t have a long face. I’m just thinking.” 

He arches a brow. “Okay, so what are you thinking so deeply about then?” 

You sigh, running a few fingers over the page of the textbook in your lap, considering for a brief moment. “I was thinking about Seungmin.” 

“Ah.” Jisung nods, tilting his head slightly. “What, about the fact that he’s into being called shit in bed? Because I for one did not see that coming.” 

“No!” You say a little too quickly, cheeks heating even despite the cool nip of the air. “No.” You repeat, a little more levelly this time. “Just-about how I relate, to what you said. I never really know how he feels about things.” 

Jisung leans back on his hands beside you, staring out at the campus for a moment. Finally, he says, “Yeah, he’s kind of a weird dude, huh? I mean, I know he’s into Changbin, but I don’t really know if he’s that into the whole idea of the pack.”

You glance sidelong at the beta sat beside you, and you note the way he bites his bottom lip, fingers drumming along the skateboard held in his lap. 

“I was kind of excited to have another beta around.” Jisung admits a little softly with a sigh, glancing down at the chipped orange paint that adorns his nails currently, courtesy of Hyunjin. “I dunno, until I moved to university, I never really spent a lot of time around others like me. And it’s nice, the dorms and the friends, but there’s something about having a potential packmate who just gets it that’s comforting, you know?” 

You nod, reaching out to put one of your gloved hands over his. “Yeah, I do. I know you’ve been through a lot, with the whole beta thing, and I was hopeful Seungmin could help you through some of the stuff you’re still dealing with.” 

Jisung gives you a slight smile, but it’s tight and doesn’t quite reach his large dark eyes. “I don’t even know if the guy likes me, noona, or if he just puts up with my company because of Changbin.” 

You sigh, glancing down at where your gloved fingers rest over Jisung’s chapped, red ones. “Well, at least he didn’t straight up tell you that he didn’t feel like that about you. That’s something.” 

Jisung snorts. “That’s because I didn’t ask like you did.” 

You swallow. “Yeah, well, I’m an idiot.” You huff out, glancing over at him and it’s your turn to give him the hint of a smile that doesn’t quite feel completely real or genuine. “I mean, I told him I loved him, and he didn’t say it back. So maybe his feelings really haven’t changed.” 

Jisung gives a slight shrug, and then knocks his shoulder into yours once more. The smell of detergent is strong in your nose, as if his beta is subconsciously trying to put out pheromones to soothe your obviously agitated alpha. 

“Hey. You said it yourself-the guy’s an enigma. We just gotta give him the time and space to figure it all out on his own.” 

You sigh, long and hard. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

Jisung leans his head on your shoulder, and you bury your nose into the soft knitted fabric of his beanie, breathing him in for a lingering moment. 

He squeezes your fingers. “If it’s any consolation, I said it back, remember? And it’s still true.” 

You give a little laugh at that, kissing the top of his head. “Yeah, I know. I love you too.” 

You squeeze his fingers back in return, and then nudge the round, reddened apple of his cheek with your shoulder with a slight hint of a smile. 

“Now c’mon, that kickflip of yours isn’t gonna learn itself.” 

******

“I dunno, maybe I’m pushing too hard. Putting expectations on everyone that are unrealistic.” 

Yeosang glances over at you, breaths coming in harsh little pants in the cold morning air, his hands on his hips as he walks a few loose circles around where you stretch. 

“Betas are tricky. When Mingi joined the pack, I swear to god, the hyungs almost drove themselves crazy trying to figure out what he was thinking.” 

He drops down beside you on the sidewalk, leaning over to stretch out one long arm along the line of his leg, before he switches to the other side effortlessly. 

He’s barely panting from our run, skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat in the early morning rays of weak sunlight. 

You blow out a breath, leaning your head back slightly to stare at the sky. “Jisung is losing his mind. He had this whole grand vision of what having another beta in the pack would mean, and Seungmin’s just-” You hesitate, considering for a moment, before you sigh again. “-not that.” 

Yeosang’s gaze flicks over to me, and he makes a little sound of understanding under his breath. “Mm. Yeah, when we all study together, I can tell the kid’s a little harder to read than most. Even for a beta.” He shifts, coming to his feet again as he rolls his ankles a little, then his arms and his neck, glancing down at me. “But he seems nice. And he seems to be into Changbin, so that’s a plus.” 

“That’s the thing though-” You admit, standing up too now, rolling your shoulders for a moment, before you tuck your earbuds back into your pocket. “-he likes Changbin, but does he like the rest of us?” 

Yeosang moves to stand in front of you , reaching up to push some loose strands of hair back from your jaw with a long finger, chilled from the morning air. He gives you a slight smile. “Wolves aren’t solitary creatures, babe. You know that. And with how smart Seungmin is-and how obsessed with biology-he knows that too. Just give him some time to warm up. It’s probably overwhelming, especially for a seemingly solitary guy like him.” 

You groan. “Fuck, you’re right, but do you have to be?” 

Yeosang chuckles at that, moving to bump his shoulder into yours as you turn to follow the sidewalk back toward campus and the bus stop. 

“Yes. It’s one of my many talents.” 

You arch a brow at him. “Being right?” 

Yeosang grins. “Never being wrong.” 

You roll your eyes and elbow him in the side. “They’re the same thing, idiot.” 

He laughs in response. “Trust me, they’re really not.” You walk in silence for a few moments, shoes scuffing the concrete, hands tucked into the pockets of your jackets, and then Yeosang asks, “Have you tried talking to him about all of this?” 

You scoff a little, shaking your head. “No, because what the hell am I supposed to say?” You move to walk in front of him, taking backward steps as you face him, pitching your voice into something akin to a fake version of your own. “‘Hey, Seungmin, weird question, but like, are you into us? Also, just wondering, but have your feelings changed about me? Oh, and Jisung would really like to fuck you, but he’s nervous you don’t even really like him, and by the way, Changbin totally told everyone you like to be degraded in bed.’” 

Yeosang’s eyes widen at that last part, his mouth dropping open slightly. “Wait, really?” 

You wave him off. “Yeah, well, technically Changbin told Hyunjin, who told everyone else, but that’s beside the point.” 

Yeosang whistles beneath his breath as we continue to walk. “Shit. Okay. Didn’t see that one coming, but good for him.” 

His tone is laced with slight surprise still, but mostly just open admiration and appreciation. 

You pull your phone from your pocket and glance at the time, groaning slightly. “Fuck. I have to go. I’m late for a lab and then I have a study session at the lib.” 

Yeosang arches a brow at that, a slight smirk coming to his full lips. “Oh, with you know who?” 

You stare him down, expression and voice deadpan. “No, I am not meeting Voldemort, The Dark Lord, for a study session, Sang. That’s just stupid.” 

Yeosang rolls his dark eyes, reaching out to shove you, but you dodge the halfhearted attack easily. 

“I’m talking about a certain beta.” 

“I know that.” You retort back, rolling your own eyes now. “Besides, even if Voldemort went here, he’d never be in the sciences department. Probably like arts and humanities or something.” 

“Or dance.” Yeosang points out thoughtfully. 

His suddenly wide eyed gaze meets your own, his mouth in a small ‘o.’

“Minho.” You both say together. 

Yeosang grins as you both laugh, reaching the bus stop. He bumps his shoulder into yours once more affectionately, as you separate to take different buses. 

“Good luck with your study session, babe.” He points a stern finger in your direction. “Talk to him.” 

You roll your eyes and wave him off. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll consider it. Say hi to Voldie for me when you pick up Hwa, will you?” 

Yeosang’s grin widens as he gives you a little salute. “Will do.” 

*****

“You’re staring again.” Seungmin comments without looking up from the page he’s working on, his pencil scratching rhythmically in the quiet of the library. 

You clear your throat, dropping your eyes back to your own textbook. “What? No, I’m not-” 

Seungmin sighs, shutting his notebook, and pushes his glasses up on top of his head as he angles to face you, expression unreadable. 

“All right. Out with it.” 

You’re taken off guard, glancing up at him in a slight panic, like a deer caught in headlights, eyes going wide as your mouth opens and closes a few times before you finally manage to choke out, “Out with what? I’m good. Fine even.” 

Seungmin snorts at that. “You haven’t stopped rereading that same page for the last half an hour. And I’m pretty sure you’ve been studying me more than anything else.” 

“Plus your scent is all wacked out.” He says with a slight wrinkle of his nose. “Even my limited faculties can tell that much.” 

You sigh, glancing down at the open book in your lap before you close it and set it aside, tapping your pen along the table for a brief moment as you consider how to word what you want to say. 

Finally, you get out softly, “Jisung is worried.” 

Seungmin’s brow ticks up a bit at that. “About me?” 

You give a slight shrug, not really looking at him, gaze on the pen flicking between your fingers. “I guess? He’s just worried because he doesn’t really know how you feel-” You glance at him then, and then away again. “-none of us do.” 

The eyebrow goes up another notch. “How I feel? About what?” 

You sigh, a slight sound of frustration now. “About everything? About him, about us, about the pack, about-” I throw a hand out. “-all of it.” 

You tap the pen down a little harder than necessary to punctuate the end of your sentence. “In case you haven’t noticed-” You point out in a mutter beneath your breath. “-you’re not the easiest guy to get a read on.” 

There is brief silence for a moment, and then Seungmin admits quietly, “Yeah, I know.” 

You flick your gaze up to his then, and see a hint of vulnerability in the depths of his dark eyes before he reaches up and scrubs across his face with the palm of his hand. 

“Look, (Y/N)-” He says on a sigh, and you tense up, preparing yourself for what he’s about to say next. Judging by the slight hint of burnt bitterness that now mars his orangey citrus scent, it’s probably not going to be what you want to hear.

Great, can’t wait to break the news to Jisung that the only other beta in the pack doesn’t even wanna be here. 

Seungmin smooths his palms on the table in front of him, staring at the pages of notes scrawled in his messy handwriting. “I know there are expectations. I knew that coming in. I know Jisung has expectations especially, and from what he’s told me about his past and how his parents wanted an alpha for a son, and all the struggles he went through as a beta to try and fit in, I don’t blame him. But I-” 

Seungmin gives a little shake of his head, and his gaze meets yours once more, lips pulled into the hint of a thin line. “I never went through anything like that. I was a beta, born into a family happy to be betas, and I never even thought twice about it. Never felt like I was somehow lacking, or less than, because it was all just biology. Nothing more. So I don’t really know how to-” He hesitates, seeming to struggle with his thoughts for a moment. 

“-relate.” You finish for him softly, and he gives a slight jerk of a nod. 

“Yeah.” He agrees. “But I’ve found I’ve had that problem all my life, not just with Jisung, not just with this, with everything.” He gives a tiny shake of his head, and a humorless sardonic smile curves his lips in the slightest way. “I don’t know how to relate to people. I never have. Maybe I’m missing some integral part of my own biology, because I know better than anyone that wolves are not loners, they’re pack oriented, but I’ve always always preferred to be alone. A lone wolf, I guess you’d say.” 

You study him for a moment and then you say softly, “There’s nothing wrong with that, Seungmin.” He heaves a sigh and leans back, staring up at the ceiling above us. “I guess not, but I guess, what I’m trying to say is-” He glances at you, expression going flat. “-I don’t know how to let you all in to understand me, if I don’t even understand myself.” 

Before you can second guess yourself, you reach out and cover one of his hands on the table with your own. “Hey.” When he looks at you, you give him the hint of a smile. “We’re all figuring this shit out, just the way you are.” 

He blows out a breath through his nose, almost like a sardonic sort of laugh. “Yeah? Well, you guys seem to have shit pretty figured out from my viewpoint.” 

You shake your head. “We don’t, trust me.” Your lips curve slightly as you stare at him, holding his gaze. “We’re a mess, we’re just pretty good at hiding it. Well, most of the time.” 

Seungmin stares at you for a long, silent moment. 

“I want to be what Jisung needs.” He finally admits, so softly it’s almost just a breath. “I want to be what Changbin wants. I want to be-” He blows another harsh breath out through his nose and drops your gaze. “-pack, but I’m just not sure where to begin. This is all new territory for me, and while I’m all about new discoveries in the scientific fields, my personal life is another matter entirely.” 

You give a little laugh at that, and note that he hasn’t pulled his hand back from your touch yet. 

That’s a good sign. 

“You don’t have to have it all figured out today. Just one step at a time.” You encourage softly, leaning down so you can meet his ducked gaze. “You can do that, right?” 

Seungmin sighs, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

“Good.” You sit back and blow out a breath, glancing down at your study materials spread out before you. “Now I don’t know about you, but I can’t study anymore tonight or I might go blind.” 

Seungmin nods, surprisingly, and begins to pack up his materials. 

After another brief moment of silence, he asks suddenly, “What about you?” 

You shove another handful of pens and papers into your backpack without looking up. “What about me?” 

Seungmin makes a noise that clearly signifies he thinks you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you can feel his annoyed stare burning holes in the side of your head. 

“You know, don’t you wanna know how I feel about you? Now that I’ve had some time?” 

You freeze, swallowing, and then force yourself to resume your previous activities of packing up and getting ready to leave. 

“I mean, not really. I figure you’ll tell me that when you’re ready.” 

Lies. 

You wanna know so bad it’s driving yourself and your wolf crazy. 

You busy yourself with lining up your highlighters back in their designated case, just so your antsy fingers have something to do. 

“You know-” Seungmin states suddenly, voice even, tone neutral. “For a long time, I thought I was asexual.” Your eyes jerk up in surprise to meet his own, lips parting slightly. 

“You don’t have to-” 

He waves you off, pulling his glasses off his head and carefully folding them to stow in their case as he talks. 

“No, it’s fine. I want to.” He glances to you then, a slight smile curving his lips. “I’m supposed to be pushing myself right? Opening up so you can get to know me better?” 

You swallow and give a slight nod. 

“You know, the whole lone wolf thing from before? I didn’t really ever feel the need to be involved with anyone like that. Didn’t think I needed it, felt complete without it. And then-” He sighs, and a slight flicker of annoyance crosses his pretty features. “I met Changbin.” 

“Changbin.” You breathe in slight agreement, and your lips twitch upward a little at the other alpha’s name. “Yeah, he tends to have that effect on people.” 

“Mm.” Seungmin nods in slight agreement. “So then, I thought, well, maybe it’s just biology, but maybe I don’t really want to be alone, not quite like that. But then I think-” He considers you for a long moment. “-I met you, and we became friends, and I liked your company, but then you asked me if I could ever like you like I liked Changbin.” You cringe slightly at that. “Oh god, can we just pretend that conversation never happened?” 

“No.” Seungmin responds back immediately. He arches a brow. “It made me think you know. About myself. About what I wanted. It was good for me.” 

“Glad to help.” You mumble back, your cheeks flushed slightly in an irritated sort of hot feeling blush. 

“I considered that maybe, after you asked me that, that I was just into guys.” Seungmin admits in a softer sort of voice, but still matter of factly. 

“Oh, so it’s my gender, got it.” You retort back, avoiding his gaze. 

“No.” He shakes his head at that. “I think I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t really care about gender, not in the long run of things. I think I’m more into people themselves, their personalities, and how they handle mine.” “Great, so it’s just my personality then.” You blurt out, throwing out your hands now. 

“No.” Seungmin repeats a little bit more firmly, sharper. “You’re not listening to me.” 

You give a little sharp laugh at that. “It’s really fucking hard to listen to you when we’ve been studying shit that turns my brain to mush for the last four hours.” 

Seungmin’s hand covers your own, and you freeze, gaze flicking to him, mouth slightly agape, words instantly dying off. 

“I-” He says firmly, taking in a sort of shaky breath, his fingers still resting a little bit awkwardly on top of your own. “-like you. You, (Y/N). I like the way you make me feel accepted, I like that you listen to my ramblings about scientific findings, I like that you don’t push me to go further than I’m comfortable, and I like that we started as friends first, and you’ve given me time and patience to explore where this could potentially go. At my own pace.” 

You stare at him for another beat and then, “I’m sorry. If what I said in the shower made you uncomfortable.” 

His lips curve slightly at that, his nose wrinkling with the hint of a smile. “It didn’t. In fact, it kind of surprised me that I liked hearing it. Just-” He blows out a breath. “-give me some time to figure out my shit okay?” 

You nod, curling your fingers around his own. “Yeah, I can do that.” 

Seungmin nods, and removing his hand from yours, begins to move to pack away the rest of his things. “Now c’mon, I promised Jisung we’d be in time to watch a movie with him.” 

You grin, standing up and slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “It’s gonna be one of those cheesy action flicks he loves, you know that right?” 

Seungmin sighs, but his voice is filled with affectionate amusement. “Yeah, I know.” He glances at you with a lift of his brow. “But anything for our boy, right?” 

You grin back at him, knocking your arm into his as you walk. “Anything for our boy.” 

As you walk down the stairs that lead out of the library, shoulder to shoulder, he slides his hand into yours. 

[leaderwon]

CHAPTER 04 — The unofficial rule of proximity

wc — 790+

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It started with a group project. Because of course it did.

Nothing ever truly shifts without a little academic chaos thrown in.

Your literature teacher had stood at the front of the class with that too excited gleam in her eyes, like assigning a creative group presentation on classic novels was the highlight of her year. Maybe it was.

You should’ve seen it coming when she began listing the groups aloud instead of letting you choose. “Group Four,” she called, scanning her sheet. “Jay Park, Jake Sim, Y/N L/N, Haeun Seo, Sunghoon Park.”

You blinked. Jay immediately turned in his seat to grin at you, mouthing, jackpot. Jake looked like he was trying not to laugh. Sunghoon just nodded slightly, already scribbling notes on the assignment like he didn’t just hear you’d be stuck working together for the next two weeks straight.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath. Lia, unfortunately, had landed in another group, which meant you'd be trading notes more than actual study time now.

As soon as class ended, you were cornered.

“So,” Jay began, linking his arm with yours as you walked toward the lockers, “how do you feel about carrying this group?” “Bold of you to assume I’ll carry anything.” Jake chuckled from your other side. “You usually do.” “That’s because I care about passing.” “Same,” Sunghoon added, a little too casually. “Which is why we should meet today.”

“Today?” you groaned. “We just got assigned this.” Jay shrugged. “Better now than last minute, right?” So, just like that, your lazy afternoon turned into a study session.

Jay’s house was the obvious choice, his parents were out, his snacks were abundant, and his living room was practically designed for group hangouts.

You were sprawled across the carpet with papers all over the coffee table, while Jake sat on the couch, reading annotations from The Great Gatsby like they were written in a different language.

“Who even talks like this?” he asked, squinting at the book. “No one says ‘old sport’ in real life.” “It’s a metaphor,” you sighed. “Everything’s a metaphor in literature.” “Then why does Jay think Gatsby was just a simp with money?” “Because he was,” Jay called from the kitchen. “Don’t disrespect Gatsby,” you replied, tossing a pillow in his direction.

Sunghoon was sitting on the floor beside you, quietly highlighting text and occasionally pointing things out on your shared worksheet. He didn’t say much, but he was there. Steady. Focused. Calm in a way that made you feel less overwhelmed just by sitting next to him.

“Okay,” Jay returned with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of soda, plopping down next to Jake. “We should split the scenes. Y/N and I can do the first half. Jake and Haeun can take the second. Sunghoon can handle visuals.”

“Why do I get visuals?” Sunghoon asked. “Because you have good taste.” “And because you don’t argue as much,” Jake muttered. You nodded. “Honestly, he’s the only reason this project won’t crash and burn.”

Sunghoon glanced at you briefly, a small smile forming. “Thanks.” You didn’t know why that one word response stuck with you, but it did. Maybe it was the way he said it. Quiet, sincere. Maybe you were just tired.

The study session went longer than expected. You ended up ordering pizza, laughing over mispronounced literary terms, and arguing over whether Jay was a better speaker or just louder than everyone else.

By the time you were packing up, your head was spinning from metaphors and scene breakdowns.

Jake walked you home, claiming it was “on his way” even though you knew it wasn’t.

“You looked tired earlier,” he said as you reached your front gate. “Because I am. My brain’s fried.” “Still... you’re doing a lot lately.”

You paused, turning to face him. “Is that a bad thing?” “No,” he said softly. “It’s just... don’t burn yourself out, Y/N.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment.

Because sometimes, Jake had this way of slipping into your thoughts without warning. Saying things you didn’t expect to hear. Not always deep, but always honest.

“I’ll be fine,” you eventually said. “It’s just a project.” “Sure,” he said, then smiled. “But if you need help, I’ve got you.” “Thanks.” He waved as he turned to walk away. “Sleep early, old sport.”

You groaned and threw your notebook at him. He dodged, laughing all the way down the street. You stood at your gate for a moment longer, the air cool against your skin, heart a little heavier than it should’ve been.

It was just a group project.bIt was just Gatsby.It was just a study session. And yet, something about all of it felt like more. Like the start of something you weren’t quite ready to name yet.

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