#lee channie

[hearted-anon]

7 Days to Sana’s birthday: Because I memorised the date wrong.

Words: 1.013

Note: Her birthday is actually 13 Jan, posted at 6 Jan in my time here. So sorry about the mixup..

For: @itzsana-kiddingmenow,

titled: Warmth of a hug.

T/w: Angst, not much tickling

Taglist: @reginald-stay09 @itzsana-kiddingmenow @hetashi-takashimaya @soap143 @jungwon-is-the-one @minnielvrr @skzdiary

Lee: Channie

Ler: Minho

The world almost stopped, time seemed to move a lot slower when the news left their lips. His fingers twitched, his entire body felt stiff, feeling like he was paralysed in place as the words sunk in. It couldn’t be, he had worked so hard to keep the group all together, and yet he had failed to keep them united as one. On instinct, his eyes began to widen, the group’s reaction one in the same. Everyone except Minho.

“Lee Minho is eliminated.”

Although he tried to keep his feelings concealed under the guise of pursed lips and narrowed eyes being the strong leader he was, he could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces at the news. He, who had failed to protect Minho, he who wasn’t able to keep his group as one, he who was an absolute failure of a leader. He could see it on Minho’s face too, the shock, the sorrow that began to slowly seep into his expression, the way his posture deflated ever so slightly when it all sank deep into his bones, clawing at him like a darkness from within.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Chan whispered, repeating it like a mantra in the back of his mind. The feeling of knowing he wasn’t able to save one of his members from elimination nagged at him, a sucker punch to his gut entirely if he could put it in his own words. His arms shook silently while they wrapped around the younger’s body, and tugging him closer to feel his warmth for one last time. No matter how he tried to hide it, tears began to run down Minho’s cheeks, staring off into the background as they both squeezed each other close, as if when they let go they’d disappear from their grasp.

Sobs rang throughout the practice room, once so full of warmth now feeling so empty, as if everyone’s soul had been sucked from those four walls right in that moment. The door closed behind them, allowing them some alone time to fully understand what they had just lost. It hurts, it hurts, was all Chan could think, the words burning into his mind as he pulled Lee Know closer to him, if that was even possible at this point. So vulnerable, so open was what they were, everything else a blur besides each other’s embrace, the little safety they had from the cruel world around them.

And that was the last time Minho ever let someone named Christopher Bahng Chan hug him.

“Lino~ Just one hug, please?” The leader pleaded from across the hallway, pawing at the fabric of the dancer’s sweater in a needy manner, complaining that he was incredibly cold with the winter season coming up in Korea. With the same, usual nonchalant expression, he pinched the elder’s nose with a soft coo, his warm smile a contrast to the stern shaking of his head that told Chan a direct no.

“I’ll do anything for a hug!” Anything? Now that was a game that sounded much better than giving into whatever he was planning for during the hug. He gave a thoughtful glance into the Aussie’s direction, chuckling at the way his face lit up with joy, as if he thought his method of persuasion would actually work; it was honestly endearing.

“Anything you say? Then hold still.” Chan didn’t have time to even question what Minho meant by that, before nails gently scraped over his stomach, poking at his abs tenderly while another pinched around his navel tauntingly, a knowing smirk on his face; it wouldn’t be any fun if the leader actually managed to hold still, would it?

“Ehehe! N-Noho! Don’t tickle mehehe!” The poor leader whined, struggling to stay even the tiniest bit still, it was a given with his nature. His hands pushed at the ones going rounds in his stomach, but it was ultimately futile, doing absolutely nothing. If anything, Minho would rather say it felt like kitten paws against his hands, so cute!

“Don’t? But you said anything, don’t go back on your word now~” He cooed, a breath ghosting the Aussie’s ears, snickering when they turned a bright red from the obvious tease. Chan could’ve sworn his soul just left his body.

“I cahahan’t tahahake it! Plehehease!” He pleaded, eventually falling to the ground like a puppy, Minho leaning over him before scribbling both his hands onto the vulnerable stomach right in front of him, a deadpan expression while he watched Chan shriek in surprise, before curling in onto himself; just. Like. A. Puppy.

“That’s too bad, you asked for this.” He tutted in faux disapproval, secretly concealing the wide smile he was holding back, it was going to make his cheeks hurt if he continued like this. But how could he not? Chan was the epitome of cute, his two dimples on display as his cheeks were a crimson red, his eyes crinkled into crescents with his hair messily sprawled over his face, what wasn’t to like?

“I’m sohohohorry! Noho!” The poor puppy- leader, whined, still kicking his feet like a little child would whenever they’re helpless, before deflating like a balloon when the younger finally let up on his stomach, unable to do anything but catch his breath. Without another word, Minho pulled Chan into a hug, one full of warmth, his fingers finding his waist and tenderly wrapping themselves around him.

The room had gone quiet yet again, but it wasn’t of the tension this time, now full of love that could be felt within the four walls of the practice room. Without knowing, tears unconsciously welled up in Minho’s eyes all over again, despite whatever tough personality he tried to put on, he could never keep it up whenever he was with his only Hyung. Sensing his emotional vulnerability, the elder tugged him closer, rubbing soothing circles on his lower back as his chin rested atop Lee Know’s shoulder, embracing who they truly were behind closed doors.

It was then Minho really understood the warmth of a hug.

[valkyriexo]

Channie’s little confused face ☹️💗

God he’s so cute .. I hope he never figures anything out 🥺💗

[minchanlove]

channie filming his little sleeping kitten

[staykidss]

Fair enough Felix ! Realest reaction

[levanterhaze]

GAMEBOY — BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader a loooot of sexual tension, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, handjob, a lot of curse words, dirty talk.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[7.4k words ]♡― guys, i'm very grateful that you enjoyed gameboy. thanks to everyone who asked to be on the taglist, to everyone who is deeply involved in the story (just like me). here's another chapter. the third of this journey. don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two]

We'll be dancin' with the shadows in the night The stars are jealous knowing that you’re by my side Feel the adrenaline, acceleration In the course, we’ll be drivin' so rough

The whole campus buzzed like it had just been cast as extras in Magic Mike: College Edition.

Nahee appeared with her basket of brownies, practically vibrating with excitement. You had floated the idea to your theater crew, and, much to your delight, they had all rallied behind it.

“This,” she said, scanning the chaotic crowd, “is the sluttiest thing I’ve ever seen.” She turned to you, her grin devilish. “And I love it.”

The scene was pandemonium. The entire basketball team had ditched their shirts, creating a spectacle that rivaled any reality dating show. Lines formed instantly—three people deep for each boy, regardless of who they were. Men, women, professors who “just happened to be walking by”—no one was immune. A few of the boys even posed for photos, flexing like they were auditioning for a particularly steamy firefighter calendar.

“This has a countdown clock before someone shuts it down,” you said, arms crossed, though you couldn’t stop your lips from twitching.

“Let them try,” Eunji sighed, fanning herself dramatically. “This is art. This is community service. This is visual serotonin.”

“Speaking of the devil…” Nahee tilted her head, gesturing with the slightest nod.

You followed her gaze and immediately wished you hadn’t. Bangchan was front and center, a walking thirst trap without even trying. His arms, all defined muscle and veins, moved in practiced ease as he handed out brownies with that easy smile of his. His shoulders looked like they could carry half the student body, and his wet, glistening torso was proof he either took this way too seriously or knew exactly what he was doing. Either way, the guy was impossible to ignore.

You tilted your head, feigning indifference despite the warmth creeping up your neck. “Guess some people can’t help themselves, huh?”

Nahee smirked, not buying it for a second. “Some people, indeed.”

You hated to admit it, but he was a natural. Flashing easy smiles, throwing in effortless charm, making every girl swoon just enough to dig into their wallets a little faster. All he had on were sweatpants slung low on his hips and his cap turned backward—just unfair, really.

Not that it mattered. You weren’t talking. There was nothing to talk about. And yet, after the kiss, everything had shifted. Bangchan had distanced himself like you were a plague, and for once, he wasn’t even trying to get under your skin.

You stole glances when you thought he wouldn’t notice, hating the way every passing hand seemed to have permission to touch him. He didn’t look at you once. And knowing him, that meant something.

The sun was relentless, making the whole shirtless thing almost justifiable. You, Eunji, Nahee, and Sohee made your rounds across campus, hustling for the theater fund. But let’s be real—nobody cared about the cause.

They wanted six-packs and pretty smiles.

You were so busy pretending not to notice Bangchan’s every move that you almost missed the presence looming beside you.

“Hey,” Mingyu greeted, arms crossed, his signature grin firmly in place. “Got one of those brownies for me?”

“Of course,” you said, grabbing a brownie and passing it to him. He handed you a bill, and the weight of it made you freeze. That wasn’t just a regular bill—it was way too much.

“Uh, I think you might’ve made a mistake…” you started, holding it up.

“No mistake,” he cut in smoothly. “I’m buying the whole basket.”

You blinked. Once. Twice. “I’m sorry, what now?” you glanced at the basket, then back at him. “You want to buy all of them?”

“You heard me.” he shrugged, his tone so casual it bordered on infuriating.

Your brow arched instinctively, your internal lie detector pinging. Still, you weren’t about to complain about a sale this good. Slowly, you held the basket out to him, trying to mask your suspicion with a polite smile.

But Mingyu just shook his head, taking a bite of the brownie in his hand. “Keep it,” he said, licking the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t buy them for the brownies.”

The corner of your mouth twitched, your sass kicking in to override your confusion. “Oh, right. I forgot. They pair perfectly with a little showing off.”

He laughed, leaning in slightly. “Maybe. Or maybe I just wanted a reason to talk to the cutest seller here.”

“You know, flattery works better when you actually take the brownies.”

“I’ve got what I wanted,” he teased, taking another bite.

As much as you wanted to roll your eyes, you couldn’t hide your smirk. A sale was a sale, even if the customer was a little too smooth for his own good.

You stood there, momentarily stunned. Someone had just dropped a ridiculous amount of money on brownies—out of nowhere—and then decided you could keep both the cash and the sweets. Suspicious? Absolutely. But were you going to argue? Not a chance.

With a smug grin, you strolled across the lawn, basket in one hand and Mingyu’s absurdly generous payment in the other. The whole thing felt like an easy win—until a strange heat crawled up your spine, prickling your skin like the sun had suddenly gotten personal.

You turned your head, and there he was. Bangchan. Watching you.

And for the first time all day, he wasn’t smirking. No teasing, no cocky grin—just something sharp in his gaze, something dark curling at the edges.

Bangchan had never been the clingy type. He wasn’t the guy who caught feelings, overanalyzed texts, or lost sleep over someone who didn’t want him back.

Relationships? Fun while they lasted. Breakups? Mutual and drama-free. Ever since college started, he’d embraced the single and thriving lifestyle—no strings, no complications, no mess.

And sure, people talked. About his skills on the court, his grades, his leadership. But mostly, about his other talents. The ones that kept his phone buzzing at ungodly hours, filled with invitations that had nothing to do with basketball.

Bangchan never minded the attention. He never cared—until the only girl he actually wanted looked at him like he was just another name on a list.

Like he was forgettable.

What the hell was he doing wrong? He was a good guy. A loyal friend. A straight-A student. A goddamn basketball prodigy.

So why weren’t you interested? Why were you the only one immune?

He wanted to push, to test your limits, to make you see him the way he saw you. But that wasn’t his style.

He knew when to start and when to stop. And right now? He was dangerously close to crossing that line.

Bangchan wasn’t asking for much. Just a moment—one real, uninterrupted conversation with you. No sharp comebacks, no teasing deflections. Just you, stripped of the armor you wore so well.

But that wasn’t your style, was it? You never made things easy.

It all started when Hyunjin, the group’s reigning drama king, decided to join the theater. Naturally, he demanded a full entourage for moral support, which was how Bangchan ended up in that stuffy auditorium, sitting between Seungmin, Changbin, and Jeongin, watching Hyunjin pour his soul into a song like he was auditioning for Broadway itself.

He was good. Of course, he was good. Velvet-voiced, graceful, with a presence that demanded attention. The second he finished, Bangchan was ready to get up, clap him on the back, and drag him out for celebratory food—

Until you stepped onto the stage.

He didn’t know your name yet. Didn’t know anything about you. But there you were, in knee-high boots and a white dress, angelical, standing under the spotlight like you owned it.

Then, you started to sing. I’ll Be Over You. Soft, rich, and powerful all at once.

And just like that, Bangchan was gone.

He wasn’t used to losing—not in basketball, not in academics, and definitely not when it came to people. So when he finally got close enough to talk to you, he expected… well, something.

Maybe intrigue. Maybe mild annoyance. Fuck, he would’ve taken playful exasperation.

But you? You loathed him.

The realization hit like a punch to the gut. Any hope of friendship, of even standing on neutral ground, went up in flames. You always had a comeback locked and loaded, always deflected, always avoided his gaze like it might set you on fire.

And maybe it would.

Because that sharp tongue of yours? The way you kept him at arm’s length, like he wasn’t worth a second glance? It only made him want to push harder.

So fine. If you were going to make him fight for every inch, he’d play along.

He just needed to know—was this all just a game to you? Or were you just as afraid of losing as he was?

The bar was buzzing, laughter and conversation mixing with the clink of glasses and the steady thump of music. You were comfortably wedged between Sohee and Eunji, their arms draped around you like you were some rare artifact they had to protect at all costs.

You were tipsy, maybe a little emotional, but mostly just basking in the warmth of the people around you. Tonight wasn’t about stress or overthinking. It was about celebrating a well-earned victory.

"I can't even describe how happy I am, guys," you sighed, raising your glass with a lazy smile. "You are, without a doubt, the best friends a girl could have."

Eunji and Sohee groaned dramatically, tightening their hold on you. "You’re lucky we love you," Eunji grumbled. "And that we’re good at handling your emotional soju phases."

"I mean it," you insisted, half-dramatic, half-serious. "We did it! We have enough to keep the theater running until Mrs. Baek finds a permanent solution."

Your gaze flitted across the table, landing on Seungmin and Hyunjin. "None of this would’ve happened without you."

“We’re a fucking team!” Changbin declared, slamming his hand on the table with the confidence of a man three shots past his limit. "And you know what that means? Another round!"

The table erupted in cheers, and for a moment, everything felt right. Until you felt it. That pull. That heat at the back of your neck, like someone had just flipped a switch.

You knew before you even turned. Bangchan was here.

You refused to acknowledge him. Absolutely not. You were having a great time, and he—well, he was an occupational hazard. A walking, talking disruption to your peace.

"Channie!" Felix called, pulling him further into the group. "Finally decided to show up, huh?"

You still didn’t look. Instead, you took a long sip of your drink and focused on the condensation trailing down your glass, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

But Bangchan had never been one to be ignored.

"You didn’t think I'd come?" his voice slid into the conversation so smoothly it sent a shiver down your spine.

You took your time—because if he was going to show up and be smug about it, you could at least make him wait. Finally, you turned, meeting his eyes head-on. "Didn’t think you’d dare."

He smirked, leaning just a little closer, like he was waiting for you to react. You didn’t.

But your pulse? Yeah, that was another story.

Bangchan leaned back in his seat, a lazy smile tugging at his lips as he watched his friends celebrate. He should’ve felt the same rush of excitement, the same weightless joy—but his mind was elsewhere. The relentless pressure of basketball training sat heavy on his chest, and the gnawing anxiety that came with it refused to let go.

And then there was you.

Standing there, effortlessly stunning, laughing like the world had never touched you. Just close enough to see, but never close enough to reach.

When Changbin made his way to the bar for another round, you followed, craving something non-alcoholic to cut through the buzz in your head. He glanced at you as you stepped up beside him.

“Happy?” he asked, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eye.

You grinned, light and unburdened in a way Bangchan hadn’t seen in a while. “Very. Thanks for all the help.”

Changbin shook his head with a smirk. “You should be thanking my boy over there.”

Your brows knitted together as you followed his gaze. Bangchan, mid-laugh, his head thrown back at something Jisung said. Carefree. Unbothered. Completely unaware that your entire world had just tilted on its axis.

“What?”

“He basically forced the team to join the sale,” Changbin said, voice thick with the weight of alcohol and honesty. “Said it was to help a friend.”

Your stomach did something weird—tightened, flipped, something you weren’t prepared for.

The memory hit like a slow-motion replay. Bangchan barged into your dorm, smug as ever, announcing he had dragged the entire basketball team into your little fundraising mess. You had assumed it was for Hyunjin and Seungmin. Maybe even for some ego boost, a reason to flash that damn smirk of his.

But no. A friend.

“Really?”

Changbin snorted. “What? You think he went out selling brownies half-naked just for fun?”

You forced a laugh, but your smile didn’t quite stick. Something about it—about him—felt different now.

Changbin walked off with his four bottles of soju, leaving you behind, still leaning against the counter, replaying his words in your head. It was almost offensive to think of Bangchan as anything other than his usual self—cocky, overconfident, annoyingly self-assured. Your brain outright rejected the idea that he could be good. That he could do something selfless without expecting anything in return.

And yet, here you were, stuck with the uncomfortable realization that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t the villain you’d made him out to be.

Letting your guard down was one thing. Admitting you’d been wrong? That was the real battle.

You made your way back to the table, feeling just sober enough to regret this night’s life-altering discoveries. Sliding onto the edge of your seat, you watched as Jisung threw himself into a chair, already deep in the throes of drunken confidence.

“I’m feeling karaoke,” he announced, slurring just a little. “Who’s in?”

One by one, the group rose, fueled by alcohol and poor decision-making. Bangchan stood up last, and as he did, your hand found his arm, barely brushing over the smooth leather of his jacket.

“Hey,” you said quietly. “Can we talk?”

He blinked, caught off guard. For a second, he just stared, as if trying to decipher whether this was some kind of elaborate prank. Then, he glanced at the others heading toward the karaoke booth and nodded.

“Later,” he murmured. “That okay?”

You swallowed, suddenly unsure why your heartbeat had decided to play double time.

“Yeah,” you said, too quickly. “That’s… yeah. Sure.”

The night had escalated quickly. One minute, everyone was just vibing at Kooler’s, and the next, you were crammed into a karaoke room, neon lights flashing, Sohee absolutely butchering a ballad while Eunji screamed in horror.

The mic passed around until it somehow ended up in your hands.

“Oh, no,” you said immediately. “I don’t sing in public.”

“Ma’am,” Eunji deadpanned. “You’re in the drama club.”

“Yeah, for acting,” you retorted. “Not for embarrassing myself in front of—”

But then the opening notes of Breaking Free started playing, and the room lost it.

“Oh, you have to sing now,” Changbin cackled.

“We’re literally living a High School Musical moment!” Sohee clapped.

Then, the real nightmare happened. Bangchan grabbed the second mic.

The room erupted.

“TROY AND GABRIELLA, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” Eunji announced like a sports commentator.

“Nope.” you stood up, but Jisung pushed you back onto the couch.

“You must embrace destiny,” he said solemnly.

Bangchan, ever the performer, smirked at you before dramatically bringing the mic to his lips. “We’re soarin’, flyin’—”

You covered your face with both hands. “Kill me.”

“That’s not the lyrics,” Changbin howled.

The moment Bangchan began to sing, his voice smooth and steady, you felt it—the tiny spark igniting between you, the way his presence pulled you in no matter how hard you tried to resist. His voice wrapped around the lyrics effortlessly, making them sound less like a cheesy high school musical duet and more like something real, something raw.

Then it was your turn.

Bangchan stilled for a moment, eyes widening slightly as you sang your part. He had always known you had a great voice—it was impossible not to, given how much time you spent in the theater club—but hearing you like this, just the two of you, no stage, no rehearsals, just you—it was mesmerizing.

God, you sounded unreal.

His chest tightened at how effortlessly you carried each note, how your voice blended with his in a way that made his skin prickle. You weren’t just singing—you were feeling it, even if you tried to hide behind an indifferent mask. He could see it in the way your body moved slightly to the music, in the way your lips curled at certain lyrics.

And fuck, he felt it too.

As the song picked up, the energy between you both crackled. Your voices melted together in harmony, and the chemistry was undeniable. You tried not to look at him, tried to focus on the screen, but every time you did, Bangchan was already looking at you, that damned smirk still in place.

When the chorus hit, something inside you gave in just a little. The moment was too fun, too infectious, and before you knew it, you were actually enjoying yourself.

You didn’t notice the way Bangchan’s gaze softened.

He saw through you, saw the way you let your guard down, even for just a second. And maybe it was the adrenaline, or the alcohol, or the way your voice wrapped around his in the final harmonized note, but Bangchan couldn’t stop himself from grinning like an idiot as you finished the song.

And that’s when all hell broke loose.

Everyone jumped up like it was the Super Bowl. Eunji was sobbing dramatically into Hyunjin’s shoulder. Changbin was standing on the couch, pointing like an old man watching his grandkids do something historic.

“Troy and Gabriella could never!”

When the song ended, the room was feral.

“That was the single most important moment of my life,” Eunji declared, visibly drunk and happy.

“I think I just saw God,” Felix wheezed.

Meanwhile, you just handed the mic to Eunji, turned to Bangchan, and muttered, “I hate you.”

He leaned in, voice low enough for only you to hear. “Sure you do.”

You’d excused yourself under the guise of needing a breather, but really, you just needed a damn second to exist without someone screaming lyrics in your ear or pulling you into another round of shots. The night was fun, but it was loud, and if you wanted to make it through, you needed a minute to reset.

The balcony was empty, save for the faint scent of nicotine lingering in the air. You took a deep breath, letting the cool breeze settle against your skin, grounding yourself. The city hummed below, distant and detached, and for a second, you just… let yourself be.

Then, before you even opened your eyes, you felt  him.

That ridiculously familiar cologne. The one that had been all over you. On his t-shirt. In your space. In your head.

“Is our rockstar already tapped out?”

You turned just in time to see Bangchan leaning back against the railing, watching you with that look.

“A little.” you waved a hand dismissively, but your small smile gave you away.

His was softer, quieter than usual, but still there. Still undeniably him. And the way his eyes swept over you in the dim light? Yeah. You could feel it. The way he noticed things, details, like he was cataloging every inch of you.

It should’ve annoyed you. But tonight? Tonight, it didn’t.

“Heard you wanted to talk to me.”

You raised a brow, suddenly remembering why you had pulled him aside in the first place. “Right. Think I owe you an apology.”

Bangchan’s expression flickered with surprise. “For what?”

“You know what.”

“Do I?” he leaned in slightly, nodding as if urging you to continue. “You should be clearer.”

You exhaled, hating how hard it was to say it. Vulnerability has never been your strong suit.

“Fine.” you glanced down at your boots, gathering your thoughts. “I know you convinced the basketball team to help with the sale. I assumed the worst about you, and that wasn’t fair. So… I’m sorry. You really helped me.”

Silence.

When you looked up, Bangchan was staring at you like you’d just told him the sky was green. Confused. A little offended. Like that was what you thought needed an apology.

“That’s what you’re apologizing for?”

You blinked, confused. “What else should I apologize for?”

Bangchan let out a dry, humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair before whispering a low, exasperated “fuck you.”

Your eyes narrowed. His arms crossed over his chest, the leather of his jacket tightening around his sleeves as he shifted against the ledge.

“What was that?” you demanded.

“Look, I appreciate the apology, really. But that’s not the thing you should be apologizing for.”

Oh, he was so good at pissing you off. Always had been.

“Then be clearer,” you shot back, arms folding tightly over your chest.

“Alright.” Bangchan turned to you fully, gaze locked in, voice steady. Too steady. “Let’s talk about your habit of coming after me and then bolting the second it gets real.”

Your jaw clenched. ���I never—”

“For fuck’s sake, be for real. At the party? In my dorm? I’m not saying I didn’t want it—fuck, I wanted it. But so did you. And then you acted like it was a mistake. You run from things.”

His words landed like a punch to the stomach—sharp, direct, impossible to ignore. You blinked hard, fighting the sting behind your eyes, but you had nothing. No witty comeback, no escape route. Just the weight of the truth between you.

Maybe he was right. Maybe you did want this—him. The way he looked at you like he could devour you whole, the way his hands knew exactly where to go, the way your body reacts before your mind could stop it. You wanted it. You wanted him. But wanting didn’t make it easy.

“Why are you mad?”

“Why?” he let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Because it’s fucking frustrating, that’s why. You can’t make up your damn mind.”

You exhaled slowly, trying to steady yourself, but your heart was hammering.

“It’s not that simple,” you muttered, voice quieter now, the anger slipping into something else. “Not for me.”

“Why? Because you hate me?” his lips curled, amused despite himself. “Which, by the way, I’d love to hear all those bullshit reasons why.”

“Is that really what matters?” you lifted your chin, defiant.

“So what, you’ve just decided you’re gonna hate me forever?”

“Maybe I will,” you shot back, voice dripping with venom.

Bangchan smirked, stepping in closer, slow and deliberate, like a predator cornering its prey. He leaned against the railing, his body angled toward yours, closing in just enough to make you breathless. "Hate to break it to you, love," his voice was low, dripping with amusement, "but people don’t usually fuck their enemies."

That voice. That damned voice—soft as silk, smooth as sin, and dangerous enough to make your pulse stutter.

Heat coiled in your stomach, spreading like wildfire, your body betraying you instantly. No. You weren’t going to let him win this.

"You’re right," you said, tilting your chin up, feigning nonchalance. "Which is why it’s never happening again."

A bold-faced lie. One you both saw through immediately. Because no matter how much you tried to ignore it, your mind was already spinning with memories—his hands, his mouth, the way your bodies fit together like a perfect crime.

Bangchan chuckled, dark and knowing. He moved closer, close enough that you could feel his breath graze your lips, your senses drowning in him—the scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating off his skin, the sheer audacity in his gaze.

"That’s a shame," he murmured, eyes flicking to your lips, "because we’ve got insane bed chem."

You swallowed hard. You didn’t know what was doing you in—the teasing rasp of his voice, the heat rolling off his body, the way his muscles flexed under that stupidly fitted jacket, or just him. All of him.

And just like that, your heart slammed against your ribs, your resolve threatening to crumble.

Bangchan lingered, watching—waiting. He wanted to see it happen, the exact moment your carefully built walls cracked. His pulse pounded, anticipation thrumming beneath his skin. But you held firm, clinging desperately to whatever thread of self-control you had left.

His smirk deepened, infuriatingly cocky. "I’m heading out," he murmured, eyes never leaving yours. Then, with a knowing glance, he added, "If you ever change your mind… you know where to find me."

And just like that, he turned on his heel, walking away without so much as a second look, leaving you standing there—heart racing, head spinning, and a heat pooling low in your stomach that you really didn’t want to acknowledge.

The night stretched on, loud and chaotic, but undeniably fun. By the time the drinks had blurred everyone’s ability to string together a coherent sentence, you decided to call it.

Back at the dorm, Eunji and Sohee barely made it to their rooms before collapsing face-first onto their beds, too drunk to even bother kicking off their shoes.

You wished you could do the same. But no—your mind had other plans.

You tossed. You turned. You put on some soft music, hoping it would lull you into sleep. It didn’t. Instead, every time you closed your eyes, all you saw was him.

The way he leaned in earlier, the heat rolling off him like an invitation. The way his muscles flexed beneath his jacket. The way his voice dropped, teasing, tempting, knowing.

You exhaled sharply, fingers curling into the sheets. It was ridiculous. Annoying. Infuriating.

You rolled onto your side, desperate for a distraction—anything—when your gaze landed on something draped over your study chair.

A black T-shirt. His.

The idea bloomed in your mind just as quickly as the heat spread between your thighs.

Pathetic. That’s what this was. That’s what you were.

Still, you got up, grabbing the shirt in your hands. His scent clung to the fabric—clean, musky, him. Just the faintest trace of it had your stomach twisting, the warmth inside you flickering into something dangerously close to need.

Before you could think better of it, you were pulling a hoodie over your flimsy excuse of a pajama shirt and slipping out the door.

It was past midnight. The campus was practically a ghost town at this hour, which was both a blessing and a curse. No one witnessed this humiliating trek across the quad. No one to stop you, either.

Your steps quickened as you reached his building, as if slowing down would somehow bring back your sanity.

Not happening. Not when your knuckles were already rapping against the door. Not when your breath was unsteady, your chest rising and falling too fast. Not when anticipation was burning through your veins, leaving you lightheaded and restless.

Shuffling sounds came from the other side. The lock clicked.

And then—him.

Bangchan stood in the doorway, his torso bare, sweatpants hanging sinfully low on his hips. His skin gleamed under the dim hallway light, muscles shifting as he leaned against the doorframe.

One look at you—hoodie, messy hair, his damn shirt clenched in your fingers—and something shifted in his expression. His lips parted slightly. His gaze darkened.

He already knew.

Bangchan was deep in sleep when the knocks came. His brows furrowed, his face crumpled with exhaustion as he groggily sat up, running a hand through his messy dark hair.

He hadn't been expecting anyone. But when he swung open the door, there you were. Hoodie slightly oversized, cheeks flushed, eyes dark with something unspoken.

You lifted the black shirt in your hands, your breath still uneven. “You forgot this.”

Bangchan’s gaze dropped to the fabric, then back to you, slow and deliberate.

“That’s all?” his voice was rough with sleep, but there was something sharper beneath it.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No.”

That was all he needed.

The shirt was snatched from your grip and tossed somewhere behind him. His free hand was already at your waist, pulling you inside with a force that had your pulse skyrocketing. The door barely had time to click shut before you were on him. Hands in his hair, lips crashing into his, pouring all your frustration and desperation into the kiss.

Bangchan groaned into your mouth, gripping your hips so tight it sent a shiver down your spine. His skin was warm, solid beneath your touch—broad shoulders, the ridges of muscle beneath your fingertips.

And you wanted all of him.

His hands slid up, fingers teasing along the curve of your spine. Your teeth grazed his lower lip, earning a sharp, guttural sound from the back of his throat.

You barely recognized yourself at this point. There was barely any sanity left in your body, and whatever remained was slipping fast.

Somehow, between hectic kisses and hands wandering like they had a mind of their own, you ended up on the sofa. Bangchan sat with his legs spread, his breath heavy, and you straddled his lap, your hands splayed against his firm chest.

His eyes were dark, hooded, watching you like you were something he wanted to devour.

"Are you sure?" the words left his lips, but your body already knew the answer. Your stomach twisted—not with doubt, but with the unbearable anticipation of what was about to happen.

Bangchan opened his mouth, but you pressed two fingers against his plush lips, cutting him off.

"Shhh," you hissed, your voice edged with frustration. Your hips rolled against him, a slow, deliberate drag that had him sucking in a sharp breath. The way he twitched beneath you sent a wicked thrill through your veins.

"You're driving me insane," you confessed, your nails digging into his skin. "You're in my head. That ridiculous face of yours."

Through the haze of want, Bangchan let out a breathless laugh, slowly biting your finger. "Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

You smirked, dragging your fingers down his jaw. "Shut up. Kiss me."

And he did—like he had been waiting his whole damn life to.

With effortless ease, he shrugged off his sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing but that dangerously thin white tank top—one that did absolutely nothing to hide how your body reacted to him. Bangchan’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight. Fucking hell. He wanted to devour you. Every inch. Every sound. Every shiver.

His lips crashed onto yours, rough and demanding, his hand curling around the base of your neck as his tongue teased and tangled with yours. He tasted you like he was trying to memorize every second of it, like he never wanted to stop. The heat of him, the way his fingers dug into your waist, how his breath hitched every time you met his urgency—it was intoxicating.

Then his lips left yours, trailing down your jaw, down your neck, and suddenly, your body wasn’t yours anymore. Your knees went weak, your breath came in ragged little gasps, and before you could stop yourself, a low, broken moan escaped your lips—right against his ear.

Bangchan groaned. That sound. That fucking sound. He was about to lose his goddamn mind. His hands tightened around your hips, his patience thinning by the second as you shifted against him, rolling your hips just enough to make him ache.

That sound. That fucking sound. Bangchan was about to lose his goddamn mind.

“I want it off,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with need.

His hands twitched against your waist, desperate. He could’ve ripped those pants clean off your body if he wanted to. But you took your sweet, agonizing time peeling them away before settling back onto his lap, now wearing nothing but a flimsy pair of white panties.

He would have torn your pants to shreds right then and there, but you took your time—agonizingly slow as you peeled them away before settling back onto his lap, now clad in nothing but the flimsy white panties that left nothing to his imagination.

And fuck. Bangchan broke.

You looked like a dream, like something too good to be real. Kiss-swollen lips. Hair messy from his hands. Chest rising and falling as you gasped for breath.

You were going to ruin him.

The absence of your pants made you bolder, rolling your hips in slow, teasing waves against his lap. He was already impossibly hard, every grind making it worse—if you kept this up, he was going to lose it before he even got the chance to be inside you. And that was not what he wanted.

But fuck, it felt good. The thick bulge in his sweatpants rubbing against your soaked panties, just barely grazing your clit, sending white-hot sparks shooting through your body. Every movement set off a new wave of heat, of need, of something devastatingly addictive.

“I need to do something,” you whispered against his lips, your breath warm and uneven.

Bangchan still had his eyes closed, savoring every second of this moment, refusing to let it slip away.

“Please.”

Your hands drifted down, fingers ghosting over the outline of his cock through the soft fabric of his sweats, barely touching—but more than enough to make his whole body tense. He gritted his teeth, veins pulsing as your palm pressed just a little harder.

“Fuck…” he rasped, voice hoarse, almost a plea.

You shifted between his legs, fingers toying with the hem of his pants, your nails barely scraping against his skin. His gaze burned into yours, dark with anticipation, completely at your mercy. And when you finally wrapped your hand around him—hot, firm, thick—he let out a shaky, wrecked breath.

A low groan escaped his lips, his head falling back against the couch as you wrapped your hand around him, warmth meeting warmth. The muscles in his abdomen tightened, every nerve in his body set ablaze by your slow, deliberate movements. You weren’t in a hurry—you wanted him to feel this. To lose himself in the way you handled him, the way you made him wait.

"You said I could use my pretty mouth next time," you murmured, feigning innocence, biting your lip just enough to drive him mad.

And then you winked—sweet, angelic, like you weren’t about to completely wreck him.

His breathing stuttered. His hands twitched at his sides, fighting the urge to grab you, to make you do something instead of torturing him like this. “You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, his voice wrecked, eyes rolling shut as pleasure coiled in his stomach.

You only smiled, satisfied with how easily he was unraveling for you. Leaning in, you ghosted your lips over his, not quite kissing him—just close enough for him to chase after the contact. His body burned under yours, every breath he took shaky, labored.

"Like that, baby" he panted, his voice breaking as he let himself go, surrendering to the moment, to you.

To his torment, you picked up the pace, your touch firm, deliberate. His breath hitched, his body tensing beneath your hand as his head fell back against the couch. The heat between you was unbearable, a wildfire consuming every inch of restraint he had left.

His moans came unchecked, rough and unrestrained, completely at your mercy. He let you guide him, surrendering to every agonizing second—until suddenly, it all stopped. The loss of contact was like a snapped tether, leaving him breathless, on edge, undone.

His chest rose and fell rapidly as he blinked down at you, wide-eyed, dazed. The way you knelt between his legs, watching him with that look—he swore it could drive him insane.

And then, with agonizing slowness, your lips parted. The moment your mouth met his cock, his whole body tensed, a sharp hiss escaping through his teeth. His fingers curled into the couch, muscles drawn tight as you worked him over, your tongue teasing, tormenting, ruining him.

"Look at you," he murmured, smirking like he had the upper hand when, in reality, he was barely holding himself together. "So pretty around my cock" his tongue flicked over his lower lip, his voice rough, almost reverent.

If his goal was to sound composed, he was failing miserably.

You hummed in response, deliberately slow, deliberate in every movement. He cursed under his breath, fingers threading through your hair, not pulling—yet—but holding, like he needed something to keep him grounded.

"If you keep going," his voice was strained now, his thighs tensing beneath your touch, "I—"

You raised an eyebrow. "What, baby?”

His jaw clenched. He was already too far gone to play games, but you weren’t about to make this easy for him.

And then, just as he warned, he shattered. Every muscle in his body locked up, his breath stuttering as he tipped his head back, a curse slipping past his lips like a prayer. You didn’t let up, dragging out every second of his cum until his grip on reality seemed just as unsteady as his grip on you.

His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his grip on your hair going slack. You pulled back, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand, before giving him a slow, knowing smile.

By the end of it, he was completely wrecked—chest heaving, eyes hazy, limbs boneless. His vision blurred at the edges, like his body couldn’t decide whether to collapse or beg for more. He knew you were good. Knew the chemistry between you was dangerous. But the way you looked at him—innocent, yet utterly sinful—while taking him so effortlessly? That was his undoing. You weren’t just ruining him.

And yet, you didn’t stop there.

Without hesitation, you climbed onto his lap, capturing his lips in a kiss so wet, so consuming, it made his head spin all over again. The taste of himself lingered between you, but you never shied away from things like that. Bangchan was great in every way, and if he could make you feel good, you’d damn well return the favor.

"Holy shit, baby," he murmured between kisses, his voice still rough with aftershocks, "you're fucking amazing."

The wicked curve of his lips sent heat straight to your core. He was teasing you, even now, when he could barely string words together.

And God, it only made you want him more.

Every movement between you was deliberate—synchronized, electric, and dripping with consent. Bangchan’s fingers trailed down your trembling thighs, finding the soaked fabric of your panties. He barely touched you, yet a deep shiver ran through him, his cock twitching at the sheer slickness of you.

"Fuck," he muttered, more to himself than to you, voice thick with hunger.

Then, without warning, he pushed the fabric aside and pressed two fingers against your clit, rubbing slow, relentless circles.

Your moan was swallowed into the kiss, tangled between tongues and shallow breaths. He was hard again, pressing against your stomach, his body burning with every second of restraint. Bangchan grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer, his free hand teasing and taunting with no predictable rhythm—just continuous, torturous pressure that sent you spiraling.

"I..." you tried to speak, but the words crumbled in your throat, lost in the haze.

Bangchan's dark eyes locked onto your face, studying every microexpression—the way your lips parted, the way your brows knit together, how every tiny twitch exposed just how undone you were.

Then, as if testing the limits of your sanity, he dragged his fingers lower, slipping two deep inside.

You gasped.

The stretch was sinful. Even his fingers were thick, filling you in a way that had you gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Bangchan groaned at the feeling, his patience thinning with every squeeze of your walls around him.

And the worst part? He was just getting started.

He sucked on your lip, bit it, then soothed it with a kiss. "How can you be so fucking tight?" his voice was wrecked, nearly a growl, as he felt your walls clench around his fingers, swallowing him with a desperation that made his cock twitch.

Bangchan didn’t slow down. If anything, his pace turned ruthless—deep, fast, relentless. Each thrust of his fingers sent another jolt of pleasure through you, leaving your brain nothing but static. Your body thawed under his touch, a mess of heat and sensation. He pushed your blouse up just enough to bare your breasts, immediately palming them, kneading them as if the sensation alone could ruin him.

"Don’t stop." the demand left your lips between ragged breaths. "Harder."

Bangchan groaned, watching you ride in his lap like a dream he didn’t deserve. "Jesus Christ." his voice was strained, his self-control hanging by a thread. "’Gonna cum all over me, hmm? Is that what you want?"

It was too much. The filthy words, the ruthless rhythm, his fingers buried deep inside you while his cock throbbed against your thigh, still wet from your mouth. Your body was on the edge of something catastrophic.

And then you shattered.

The orgasm slammed into you like a cursive wave, your moan breaking into something raw, something uncontrollable. Bangchan swore under his breath, completely mesmerized. He didn’t stop—kept his fingers buried inside, working you through every pulse, every aftershock.

When your breath finally started to steady, you opened your eyes. And he was watching you.

His gaze was alarming—dark, hungry, completely ruined. As if he had just witnessed the most beautiful thing in the world.

You were both breathless, skin damp with sweat, but it wasn’t just the intensity of what happened—it was everything that had led to it. The frustration, the tension, the unspoken words tangled between your bodies.

Bangchan reached for his black shirt, which had been abandoned on the arm of the couch. "Keep this."

You eyed him, still catching your breath. "Why?"

"To motivate you."

You snorted, rolling your eyes before giving his shoulder a light shove. "You're so full of yourself."

But you still slipped it on, letting the oversized fabric swallow you up, suddenly feeling less exposed—less vulnerable. His hands remained on your thighs, holding you in place on top of him, as if he wasn’t ready to let you go just yet.

Then, casually, he picked up his phone and handed it to you. "Put your number in."

You held the device, raising an eyebrow. "Why? So you can save it as ‘bootycall’?"

His lips curled into a slow, shameless smirk. "Maybe."

"You're terrible." you rolled your eyes but still tapped your number into his phone, handing it back with a smirk. "And a complete pervert."

Bangchan ran his hands up your thighs, his fingers lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. "For you?" his voice was low, teasing, but there was something deeper in his gaze. "Completely."

The weight of the moment settled between you, thick and lingering. And that was your cue. You stood, reaching for your clothes, shaking off whatever it was that passed between you. Bangchan did the same, though not without watching you with that unreadable look on his face.

"You could stay if you want," he offered, ever so casually.

You scoffed. "It's late, and the girls will notice if I'm missing in the morning."

He nodded, as if he understood—because he did. No one could know. 

Once you were dressed, you headed for the door, pausing just long enough to glance over your shoulder.

"So," Bangchan leaned against the couch, arms crossed, his smirk returning. "How about it?"

You blinked. "What?"

"It'll never happen again?" his tone was pure mischief, mocking you.

Your lips curled, mirroring his amusement. "You have my number." you shrugged, stepping into the hallway. "Make good use of it."

And with that, you disappeared down the corridor, leaving Bangchan standing there, an unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling tightening in his chest.

One thing was becoming painfully clear—whatever this was between you, it wasn’t going away. And maybe, just maybe, you were better together than apart.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf

[brownieboyyylixiee]

Chan's bubble 💭

[241124] 12:45 AM KST

[231124] 11:45 PM PHT

(KOR&ENG)

*pics*

here's a gift

[maeleelee]

Boyfriend Stray Kids! tells reader happy birthday.. with a twist.

This was for @cadenonlinelive. His birthday is the same day as Hongjoong. I know it's a late post but I got really sick this week. So thank you for understanding.

TW: sexual content. Baby. Angel. Princess are used. Gets a little spicy. Wake up sex is mentioned. Binnie being a simp. Mention of being sore. Let me know it I missed anything.

@imagine-a-life-like-this @mxnsxngie @choisoorin @th3melthatfell @babrieeee @littleleatabixx @bubblesreplies @lethallyprotected @weird-bookworm @bahnghannah0697 @cadenonlinelive @acrylishly

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

texting bf!skz "i have an ache where you should be"🙊💌

✨masterlist for more delulu bf!skz

✨taglist @milf-ivy @minluvly @nervousbasementtimemachine @m1lfl0v3r4l1fe @atiana1996 @dreamerwasfound @staydoida1 @chlodavids @ivyreadsstuff @sapphirewaves @hannahhhhs-things @skzwife

🖤hyung line🖤

🖤maknae line 🖤

[christakisbang]

240720 music core - comeback interview

[smlbch]

omg.. just now i discovered that chan was moaning in “railway”..?

ADFSGD- CAN YOU HEAR HIM? I THINK IM PASSING AWAY I- send help😭😭

[loooopside]

Look at his sweet little faceeeee I Just-

Just wanna kiss his forehead and tuck him in my pocket and keep him safe forever goodbye.

[hearted-anon]

Oh my gosh I just really need a lee 3Racha fic 🫠

Mashup! Tickletober Day 25 and 30: Weak and Reverse

Words: 2,048 Note: what is this picture where when why T/w: Angst, Pinning, Restraints, Soft and rough

Taglist: @reginald-stay09 @itzsana-kiddingmenow @hetashi-takashimaya-apollos-kid @soap143 @jungwon-is-the-one Lee(s): Channie, Changbin, Jisung Ler(s): Channie, Changbin, Jisung

Changbin and Jisung sneakily schemed behind Chan, whispering unintelligible words to each other while Chan guided Seungmin on how to sing his part in an upcoming song, completely oblivious to the evil plans the duo had for him. Seungmin shook his head when he took notice of the smirks on their faces, strikingly familiar to the one Hyunjin had, that bright smile, how amazing and charming he looked whenever he smiled- Seungmin swallowed as he ridded the thoughts in his head, able to get back on track to training his vocals, clearing his throat obnoxiously loudly when Chan questioned the red blush on his cheeks; telling him it was nothing more than a quiet voice crack that he picked up. Thank heavens that the leader actually believed it wholeheartedly.

"1…2…3!" Jisung screamed the moment Seungmin left the studio rather hurriedly to visit a certain ferret, tumbling onto the Aussie who yelped in surprise from the unexpected gesture. A play fight between the three broke out on the soft carpet of the studio, a few staff walking by to check on the loud commotion turning away with small grins on their faces at the heart-warming sight. After a while of trying to gain the upper hand, Changbin and Jisung eventually managed to get the tables reversed on their dear leader, who would usually pin them both down with ease; he must've been worn out after being the only actual working one in the studio for once.

"W-What's gotten into you guys?!" Chan exclaimed, thrashing around in the duo's grip to no avail of escaping. However, even when the thunderous voice sent a shiver down their spine, neither of them dared to speak up of their plans, only flashing cheeky beaming grins at each other before their fingers descended onto the eldest's sides, squeezing the soft skin rapidly. Poor Chan squealed in surprise, tossing his head back in boisterous cackles as his feet kicked in desperation. Genuinely, what had gotten into them?!

"PLEHEHEHEASE! WHAHAHAT DID I DOHO?" Chan pleaded to no one, seeing how no one at all was replying to him, only able to hear his boisterous cackles as he struggled. It felt like a bad dream completely, and no matter how much he struggled, pulled and begged nothing was working, it felt as if he was succumbing to the sensations of a force that wouldn't stop, crying and pleading for freedom as he grew weaker… weaker…. and weaker.

"Hey hey! He's waking up!" Jisung yelled, a panicking Changbin immediately rushing over with a cloth and warm water. Chan blinked rapidly, finding himself back between the two producers, but this time in his own bed. The middle aged of the trio brought up a cloth, rubbing at the Aussie's cheeks as Han came to explain that Chris had awoken them both screaming and crying over nothing, assuming it was a horrible nightmare. Unable to believe his eyes, the eldest only sobbed more, the younger duo patting his back tenderly and reassuring him that nothing like that was going to happen here.

After a while of cuddling in silence, Chan gently tugged at both of their wrists, startling both of them as they woke up from dozing off. Staring at the leader in confusion, they both only chuckled softly when they witnessed the leader's face redden even more, placing their fingers on his body slowly and carefully, as if he was made out of glass that was ready to crack. It was painfully obvious what Chan wanted, and seeing how weak he was in the current state he was in, who was 2RACHA to resist such a baby face like that?

"Ehehehe! T-That tickles!" Chan squeaked when nails traced over his abs, poking each pack slowly while Jisung counted them teasingly into his ear, blowing a gust of wind into the area on purpose to hear the cutest snort emit from the middle of the snuggle pile. Meanwhile, Changbin simply scratched under his chin like an owner would with their puppy, whispering tiny reassurances in the elder's ears that made his heart completely melt from how sweet it was. In no time, his cheeks were a bright red, squealing when Changbin came to place a kiss onto the tip of his large nose, admiring how adorable the leader looked when the blush spread to his ears from the action.

"Our dear leader now so weak under us hm? What a cutie…" Jisung cooed, his other hand squeezing and pinching the leader's cheek affectionately, snickering when he whined and pawed at his hand fruitlessly. Changbin tutted in disbelief at how mean Jisung was being to their poor eldest, taking some sympathy and ruffling the youngest's hair, who squealed and batted his hands away in response. Ah, the leader never felt more at home with the trio, his giggles sounding more genuine the more the two-play fought above him, not even focusing on the tingling sensations on his stomach or his neck anymore.

"Hey! But I complimented him at the end!" Jisung retorted with a pout, gently scratching at the eldest's stomach in an attempt to keep his eyes off the embarrassing fight they were having, and as weak as he was, it of course didn't work.

"But what you said was still mean! He is weak, and we must help our Hyung!" Changbin huffed, shaking his head in disbelief before the quokka pounced onto him, leaving the leader to catch up on his own breath, eyes widening as they tumbled over one another, babbling on about their own beliefs. Despite feeling like his muscles were going to break, he knew he needed some sweet, sweet revenge, but for now, he'd watch over them, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike.

"H-Hey, where did Chan Hyung go?" Jisung muttered after a long while of fighting Changbin and his playful punches, having suffered a few to his stomach and a few to his ribs which made him tumble back with a few giggles of his own. At the sudden question, Changbin's head too peeked up, seeing that the Aussie that they had originally tired out was nowhere to be seen on his bed, a spike of worry running through them. After helping each other up, they both began looking for Chan anxiously, going so far as to open his clothes cupboard and assuming he was there, Jisung somehow managed to sulk when he didn't see their precious wolf inside.

"Looking for me?" 2RACHA both let out an ear shattering scream, almost akin to an anime girl when the familiar voice came up behind them, wrapping his arms around their shoulders with a warm, yet cunning smile. Dragging them over to his bed once more with a little more force than normal, the duo giggled anxiously when their arms were pinned high above their head with a sweater that the eldest was originally wearing, now adorning himself in a tank top and curls that were styled strikingly similar to the dwaekki, an exact copy if you let Jisung call it.

"W-What's going on?!" Jisung sputtered nervously, squealing when his shirt was slowly lifted up, the leader making sure to trace the bare skin that was being exposed on the way up to increase the anticipation all the more.

"H-Hyuhuhung…m-mercy plehehease.." Changbin babbled when his shirt was not spared from the same treatment either, Chan cooing at how cute the duo looked struggling under him, trying not to let the sadistic burst of happiness take over him too much, but how could he not after seeing how cute they were; and with Changbin already giggling before he got started melted his heart completely.

"Well…since in my nightmare you guys so called bullied me, nothing like a good old role reversal to remind you who your leader is~" Chan shrugged, as if it wasn't an excuse to just tickle the absolute wits out of 2RACHA just because he had an energy spike seeing them 'fight' on the floor, having a mischievous mood of his own growing seeing how just his fingers wiggling above the younger duo got them giggling like absolute idiots was hypnotising him just to wreck them already, like a ghost whispering into his ear to do whatever he wanted. For once, he gave into those desires with a cheshire grin.

"B-But we didn't do anything- HYUHAHAHA!" Han was the first of the two to get his definitely fair share of punishment, recalling his little comment on how 'weak' the leader is, oh he'll show Jisung weak. Shoving his hands underneath the cotton shirt, his fingers wreaked havoc onto his underarms, vibrating them just in the middle enough to pull screams and incoherent babbles from below him. Ignoring the cackles for mercy, he shoved a finger right into his belly button, exposed right in the flesh and wiggling, digging or swirling the singular digit it, driving Han bonkers as he cried in hysterics.

"I'M SOHOHORRY! PLEHEHEASE IT'S TOHOHORTURE!" Jisung cried, arching his back weakly, pulling at the sweater above his head in a futile attempt to get away, all the while Chan was grinning above him, fueling his desire for more and more.

"Hmm…I'm not sure if I forgive you yet, you look a little cute like this anyway," Chan mocked, despite the way his eyes were scrutinising every little reaction the quokka gave to see if he was truly tapping out talked otherwise about whether he truly forgave them. Continuing the torture for a little while longer and relishing in the booming laughter that emitted from his bedroom, he let the quokka off the hook, not without a big, purposefully slimy kiss that made Jisung playfully gag through his heavy panting, yelling retorts just as fingers wiggled in his direction when he wiped off said smooch.

"Your turn~ You're going to get it, for…I don't know." Chan enthusiastically cheered, making his way over to the dwaekki, who squeaked meekly when he saw the leader towering over him with a proud smile. In advance, Han had already begun to strike, wiggling his fingers onto the producer's belly. Changbin shook his head with breathless giggles, trying to undo the bond on his wrists, but it felt as if it was made of metal. And with knowing the quokka was hungry for revenge with the leader, it wasn't going to end well; a role reversal with two against one, despite being one of the strongest members was never fair. If anything, it made him feel so much weaker.

"Wahahait wait wait- GUHUHUHUYS PLEHEHEASE!" Changbin yelled while another pair of hands scribbled over his waistline, throwing his head back in hysterics. The duo above him just smiled fondly at each other, seeing how blissful his expression looked below them, even if his face looked like a dynamite that was ready to blow up.

"I-I'M GOHOHOHONNA DIE!" Changbin begged, howling when he felt a pair of lips buzzing against his stomach, Chan inhaling a deep breath before blowing as hard as he could onto the outstretched stomach, Jisung sighing and pressing his fingers into the hollows of Changbin's hips, pulling a glass breaking wail from the middle aged of the three, which led to the duo pulling their fingers away for a moment, planning a grand finale. Once poor Binnie had caught his breath, 2RACHA placed their lips on either side of his stomach, letting his wrists go tenderly and proceeding to blow a long raspberry on either side of his waist.

"NOHO MORE! PLEHEHEASE MERCY!" Changbin practically screamed with the last of his breath, tears of mirth streaming down his face, hands unable to even nudge at the duo's heads, both Chan and Jisung letting up with faces of endearment when they saw how out of breath the rapper looked, completely weak and susceptible to their fingers. As tempting as it was, they both let up, snuggling him close, Chan placing a kiss next to his lips and drying his tears while Jisung rubbed his waist, enjoying how the plush skin felt under his skin.

Soon, 3RACHA found themselves simultaneously snoring in the leader's bed, and although their weaknesses were always exposed out in the open for each other, they always knew how to reverse the roles in the blink of an eye, nightmares and revenge aside.

[h4untedgrl]

pretty boy | skz hyungline

—♱ genre/au: established relationship, bf! skz hyung line, smau, it’s literally just “posting” your skz boyfie

—♱ warnings: cussing, slightly suggestive

channie

minho

binnie

hyunnie

—♱ a/n: hey angelss, so i’m still have a concussion lol. so i just write a full fic so i decided to do this instead :) hope you enjoy!

—♱ taglist: @vampzity @dvrktvnnel @scarfac3 @dollywoo

maknaeline

[minchanlove]

It gave me a lot of tenderness as he told us about his interest in fashion and that he was trying new things, he looked so happy. 💗

I love you so much Chan, my beautiful man.

[faeprincess777]

Authors note: This is my first time writing anything, so please be nice! ❣️

Summary: The boys find out you have been talking poorly about yourself.

Ot8x reader 🫠 18+

TW: sexual content (MDNI), afab reader, established relationship, insecurities, use of the color system, choking, use of pet names (babygirl, princess, baby, bunny, kitten, angel, sunshine, good girl, I think that's it), daddy kink, fingering, oral (f receiving), squirting, reader gets thighs slapped.

Let me know if I missed anything!

It had been a normal day. Hanging out with the boys in the living room, just chatting and joking. Chan had been fairly quiet all evening. He was reminiscing about a conversation he had with his sister, Hannah. You had spent the evening shopping and going to lunch with Hannah as she was visiting from Australia.

According to Hannah, you had been back to your self-deprecating jokes. It concerned her how you viewed yourself and she relayed those concerns to her brother. Chan had become quite annoyed. This was an ongoing battle between you and the boys. They thought they had made it clear how much they loved you and how beautiful they found you. It's no secret to the boys that you have self esteem issues. You all had discussed on multiple occasions that if you were having self doubt that you would be honest and open with them. But you hadn’t.

“Baby? Can you come here?” Chan calls you. You walk over, settling between his spread legs as he places his hands on your hips. He looks up at you. "You know we love you right?"

"Yes?" You say laughing.

“And you know we think you're beautiful?" Chan asks.

Your smile softens and you nod your head. Chan smiles, "I don't know if I believe that." There's a short pause before he continues.

"A little bird told me you've been talking poorly about yourself. I thought we talked about this, did we not?"

"Yes." You answer, shyly. By now the other boys are heavily invested in your conversation, growing just as frustrated as Chan.

"We had an agreement babygirl. What did I say would happen if I found you talking about yourself like that?" Chan asks, his voice carrying a darker tone. You gulp nervously. "I would be punished," you whisper.

Chan sighs sadly. "Turn around," he orders. You do as you're told, turning to face the row of mirrors across from the couch.

"Take a seat baby." Chan says, wanting you to sit in his lap. Again you don't protest. Chans slowing snakes one hand around your throat, just holding you in place and forcing you to look at your reflection. His other hand takes up residence on your waist.

"Here's what we're going to do," Chan whispers in your ear, tilting your head to face the mirrors. "You're not going to look away from yourself. You're going to tell us each thing that makes you insecure and we're going to show you how you're wrong, do you understand?" Chan asks.

You know there is no point in fighting them, so you shyly nod your head. "I need words, babygirl. What's your color?" Chan asks you, staring sternly at your reflection. Somehow, you muster the ability to speak again. "Yes, I'm green."

Chan smiles fondly and gently kisses the side of your head. "Good girl. Go ahead baby." You take a moment to gather your thoughts, you knew better than to lie as that would just make things worse. You try to gather the courage to tell them the truth.

“My eyes, they’re too big for my face. It makes me look weird," you say shyly. Felix is quick to object from his place on your left. “No, baby. I love your eyes. The way they shine when you laugh brings me so much joy. It's my favorite.” He leaves a gentle kiss on your cheek.

You take a moment to process what Felix had said, turning to look him in the eye. The raw emotion in his statement flusters you for a moment. His eyes hold so much love when he looks at you.

“Good job, baby. Keep going.” Chan says, turning your head back towards the mirror.

You sigh, taking a minute to compose yourself before continuing. “My stomach. It’s just not very… attractive.” Jisung gasped loudly from his place on the floor in front of you. “Who told you that?!? I love your cute little belly! I love to lay my head on it when we cuddle.” He says, crawling and kneeling at your feet. “It's perfect.” Jisung continues as he leans up to lead a series of kisses down your chest and abdomen.

It feels so good. You close your eyes and lean your head back on Chan’s shoulder, whimpering.

There's a sharp slap on your thigh. You quickly open your eyes, focusing back on your reflection. Chan is staring back at you intensely as he soothes the sting. “Eyes on me, princess.” Nodding, you continue.

“M-my thighs. I think they’re too big.” You say quickly, taking your lip between your teeth. It was Seungmin’s turn to pipe in. “Your thigh are fucking heaven.” He says, gliding his hand across your right thigh. “The way they hold my marks so well…” Suddenly, Seungmin lands a harsh slap on your thigh, appreciating how the skin turns such a pretty shade of red. “Fucking perfect.” He reiterates.

You’re a whimpering mess, and they know it. They love it. The effect they have on you is obvious, as is your effect on them. Jeongin is desperate to get his hands on you. To show you just how perfect you really are. He joins Jisung on the floor in front of you, gently tracing your calf.

“Anything else, babygirl?” Chan whispers in your ear. You take a deep breath, unaware of the storm you were about to start.

“I don’t really believe that I please you well enough.”

The room goes quiet. Chan takes a deep breath before snaking his hand around your throat. You’re breath hitches. “Y/N. That is the craziest and most disrespectful thing you’ve said.” Chan says through gritted teeth. “Do you really think we would lie to you?” Chan continued, very clearly agitated. You quickly shake your head only for Chan to tighten his grip.

“I want words princess.” He whispers harshly.

“No!” You quickly answer. Chan just lets out another long sigh.

“Let me show you, baby” Chan says as his hand snakes down under your skirt, pushing your now very damp panties to the side to play your clit. You whimper and writhe, “Shh, let daddy play.” Chan says seductively. You attempt to cover yourself, but they simply couldn’t allow that.

“Let's take this off sunshine.” Felix says as he assists in removing your shirt. Seungmin sounds from your right with a satisfied hum. “Mmmm, no bra? It's like you were waiting for this.”

It isn’t long before Felix is holding your left thigh open with one hand while the other hand pins yours to the couch, Seungmin, mirroring the same position on your right. Both leaned over, taking a nipple their mouths.

You let out an embarrassing loud moan, bucking your hips to gain more friction. Before long, Jisung and Jeongin are taking over for Chan, sliding your skirt and panties down your legs in one fluid motion, working you towards your high. Jisung is quick to bury his face in your sopping heat, moaning out at your taste. He is sure to leave room for Jeongin to work. Jeongin watches your face as he slides two long fingers inside you. “So tight, baby.” Jeongin says, taking his lip between his teeth.

It isn’t long before they work up to a punishing rhythm. They assist by spreading you wider with their hands on your calves, massaging occasionally. Jisung's spare hand snakes down to pump his now erect cock as he whines into your pussy.

Chan's free hand moves to slightly grope the breast Seungmin is working on. The hand on your throat slightly tightens again. Minho approaches from your left. One hand massages the breast Felix is working on. He rests his other hand on Felix's head, petting softly, making Felix let you a deep moan.

Changbin takes a seat next to Seungmin and assists in massaging your right calf as Jisung gets lost in pleasure. He takes turns with Chan and Minho, whispering soft praises; calling you a good girl, telling you how well you're doing for them, how pretty and perfect you are.

All insecurities are forgotten. The only thing going you are able to focus on is the mind-numbing, euphoric pleasure coursing through your body. You can feel your high quickly approaching. You're so close to reaching that peak.

Hyunjin approaches from your right, taking his place behind you. One hand resting in his pocket, and the other grabs your chin, tilting your head back. Looking deeply into your eyes. "Hello there, angel." Hyunjin says, leaning closer. You let out a soft moan. Hyunjin chuckles, "Do you want something? Or are you too fucked out to use your words like daddy told you to?"

You look pleading into his eyes. "K-Kisses p-please", you manage to get out. He lets out a chuckle. He loved hearing you beg, but he wanted to reward you. Hyunjin wastes no time giving you exactly what you wanted. His lips smash on to yours. You immediately part your lips for him and he takes full advantage as he snakes his tongue into your mouth, making you moan lewdly. You break free from Hyunjin’s kiss as you start whimpering.

“P-p-please! Please can I cum?” You beg. Hearing a dark chuckle, you know it's Chan.

“Have you learned your lesson baby? Do you realize how perfect you are for us? How much we love and adore you?” Chan asks, sucking at the sweet spot behind your ear.

“Yes! Yes, please. Please.” You moan out, barely holding your orgasm back.

“Go ahead, baby. Cum for us.” Chan grunts out.

That was all the permission you needed. Seconds later you cum hard with a scream Your juices squirt out of you, soaking the boys at your feet (though they don’t mind one bit). Jeongin and Jisung kept going, working you through your high.

“Fuck bunny, you’re so good to us.” Changbin says. Hyunjin sounds from behind you, “So perfect.” There is a short pause and only your panting can be heard.

Minho leans in near your ear, “but we aren’t done with you yet, kitten.”

[levanterhaze]

── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader dirty talk, masturbation, rough sex, slight choking, use of nicknames, overstimulation among other things I can't even name

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[10k words ]♡― once again, I must thank you all for your love and for continuing to enjoy gameboy! this chapter is a bit long, but for me it's interesting to write the development of the characters to get where we want to go! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three] ♡ [part four]

On the corner of my bed Oh, and maybe on the beach You could do it on your own While you're lookin' at me

After absolutely killing your performance of Out Here On My Own, the applause hit you like a tidal wave. A standing ovation. Even Mrs. Baek looked mildly impressed, which, considering her usual stone-cold demeanor, basically meant she was internally sobbing.

And just like that, all the nerves? Gone. Vanished into thin air like they were never even there.

Bangchan had been watching—because of course, he had—but before you could revel in that fact for too long, he got a call and had to bounce. Typical.

You should have been freaking out about the whole making out backstage situation. Should’ve been scanning every corner for witnesses, mentally preparing for a campus-wide scandal. But weirdly? You weren’t. That reckless, confident part of you—the one still floating on cloud nine—did not care. If anything, you could still feel him. His touch on your waist like a phantom burn, his lips still branded on yours.

But whatever. You had bigger things to stress about. The final list wasn’t coming out until Monday, which meant you had the entire weekend to sit in pure, unfiltered agony over it. Luckily, Saturday’s party was the perfect excuse to get out of your head for a while.

Fast forward through a day of pretending to be studious with Sohee—aka desperately trying to focus while your brain replayed that kiss—you finally took a well-earned shower and decided to go for a solo nighttime stroll. 

Campus was still alive, students buzzing around in little clusters, laughing and talking like they didn’t have impending deadlines. You shoved your headphones in, following the athletics track, which was mostly empty by now.

The night air had that perfect, crisp breeze—the kind that made you grateful you threw on a cardigan. And just when you thought the moment couldn’t get any better, Wonderwall started playing. You smirked to yourself. Damn, you loved this song.

And yet, with every step, your brain kept poking at you like an annoying little sibling. Anxiety, sure. But let’s not forget the other mess currently occupying premium real estate in your mind—Hyunjin.

You hadn’t talked to him since you drunkenly spilled your guts, quite literally, about your whole Bangchan situation. And if you were being honest, which you weren’t, at least not with yourself, you were actively dodging that conversation. Because talking to Hyunjin meant facing your own feelings, and frankly, you were not clocked in for that emotional labor.

Your phone lit up mid-walk.

Mingyu: can I see you today?

You chewed on your lip, staring at the message. It was almost ridiculous how this boy—new, uncomplicated, and seemingly sincere—wanted something real with you. And yet, here you were, hesitating. Because no matter how nice Mingyu was, your brain wasn’t stuck on him.

It was stuck on someone else.

On a certain maddening, frustrating, insanely good kisser who had, at some point, tattooed himself onto your skin. If physical touch could be permanent, Bangchan’s hands would be everywhere on you. And, let’s be honest, you wouldn’t exactly be filing a complaint about it.

Before you even processed the decision, your feet had already made it for you. You were crossing campus, heading straight for his dorm.

Because you needed to talk. Like adults. No teasing, no sarcastic little jabs—just honesty.

And, okay, maybe you needed to see him, too. Feel him. More than ever.

Your determination was fuel to the fire already burning inside you. Your heart was pounding, your brain was screaming at you to calm down, but your body wasn’t taking any orders tonight. That feverish, all-consuming pull settled deep in your gut, an intoxicating mix of adrenaline, nerves, and something terrifyingly real.

You took the stairs two at a time, like the damn dorm might vanish before you got there.

By the time you reached his door, you were clutching your excitement close, biting back a smile even as your fingers trembled. Deep breath. You knocked, quick and sure.

It’s fine. He’ll listen. You’ll talk. You’ll finally—

The door swung open.

And instead of a tall, dark-haired boy, you were met with her.

She was pretty. Unfairly, effortlessly pretty—the kind of girl who belonged on magazine covers and in the daydreams of poets. Medium height, light hair, bright eyes. The kind of face men went to war over.

Your stomach dropped like a stone.

“Hi!” she greeted, all warmth and ease, completely oblivious to the way the air had just been sucked out of your lungs.

You swallowed, forcing a polite nod. “Uh, hey… is Bangchan here?”

She shook her head, smiling like this was just any other casual conversation. And that’s when you noticed it—his black t-shirt, draped over her frame.

“Oh, no. He went to grab some food.” she tilted her head, something curious in her gaze. “Are you a friend of his? Oh! Sorry—I’m Yeojin. His girlfriend. And you are…?”

Her words hit like a gut punch, sucking the warmth right out of your chest.

A bitter laugh bubbled up, but you swallowed it down, masking the sting with a tight-lipped smile. “A classmate,” you said smoothly. “I just had a question, but… I think it can wait till Monday.”

And just like that, the fire inside you? Extinguished.

The girl pursed her glossy lips, then nodded politely. “Okay. I’ll let him know you stopped by.”

“No need.” the words left your mouth before she could even finish. “Thanks, Yeojin.”

Her name felt like venom rolling off your tongue, thick and bitter, coating your mouth with something vile.

By the time you hit the stairs, you were moving so fast you were honestly surprised you didn’t wipe out. Your pulse was a hammer against your ribs, your breath uneven. Your brain hadn’t even caught up yet—stuck on a loop, trying to process the absolute train wreck that had just unfolded.

He had a girlfriend this whole time.

He lied to you.

He did exactly what everyone said he would.

The sharp sting of disappointment curdled into full-blown anger. Your steps turned heavier, each one smacking against the pavement like a silent war drum. You were so locked into getting to your dorm—so wound up with the need to disappear into your own space—you probably would’ve plowed through half a dozen people without a second thought.

But fate had a sick sense of humor. Because halfway across campus, you spotted him.

Bangchan, heading back toward the dorms, a paper bag dangling from his hand—food, obviously, because why wouldn’t he be casually picking up dinner while your world imploded?

His eyes lit up the second he saw you, but that moment of warmth flickered out fast when you didn’t even look at him. Didn’t slow down. Didn’t hesitate. Just walked right past him like he was nothing—like he was air—nearly clipping his arm in the process.

He stood there for two seconds, frozen, before spinning around. Your name tore from his lips, sharp and urgent.

“What happened?” when you didn’t answer, his voice shot up, strained. “Where are you going?”

You sucked in a deep breath, your whole body practically vibrating with anger. Then, before you could stop yourself, you spun around and marched right back toward him, each step digging into the grass like you were stomping out a fire.

“To my dorm,” you snapped. “Not that it’s any of your business. Oh, and fun fact—I just came back from yours.” sarcasm dripped from your voice like honey laced with poison.

Bangchan blinked, his brain buffering like a slow-loading webpage. The look on his face almost made you laugh—almost. Instead, you just smiled, sharp and humorless. Yeah, process that, asshole.

You turned to leave, but before you could, his hand caught yours. Not your wrist, like some desperate last-ditch grab—your hand. Like he meant it. And the second your skin met his, it was like touching an open flame.

“Let me explain.” his voice was tight, urgent.

“Don’t touch me.” you yanked your hand back like it burned. “I don’t give a shit about whatever excuse you’re about to pull out of your ass.”

His jaw clenched. “Can you stop being so damn stubborn and just listen to me for once?”

You let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, you wanna explain?” you licked your lips, tasting nothing but bitterness. “Go ahead. Explain how you had a girlfriend this whole time while you were fucking around with me.”

The words landed like a punch to the gut—on both of you.

Because, deep down, being with you had never been defined. No labels. No promises. No safety net to fall back on. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Bangchan’s brows snapped together. “What? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t even try it.” you scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re really gonna stand there and lie to my face? I saw her.”

His frustration bubbled over, his arms flying up in exasperation. “I genuinely have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about.” his voice cracked with frustration. He looked at you like he was praying for some divine intervention to make sense of this mess. “If you’re talking about—”

“Just go back to your girlfriend and leave me alone, Bangchan.” your voice was steady, but he wasn’t stupid—he saw the fire still burning in your eyes, catching in the moonlight.

And maybe if he had taken half a second to think, he wouldn’t have said it. Maybe he would’ve swallowed his pride and stopped himself from making it worse.

But he didn’t.

“Whatever, right?” he scoffed, voice laced with something bitter. “It’s not like we were anything.”

You pressed your lips together, jaw tight, throat burning like you’d swallowed glass. And for the first time in your life, really the first, you felt so humiliated—so stupid—that your eyes burned with unshed tears.

Bangchan saw it. Saw the way your waterline glistened, saw the way your breath hitched, but you wouldn’t cry. Not in front of him. Not for him.

“If you really think that’s the problem, then that says a whole lot more about you than it does about me.” your voice was sharp, but quiet, like a blade sliding back into its sheath.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

You turned on your heel and walked away, each step fueled by a firestorm of anger, hurt, and something else you weren’t ready to name. Bangchan watched you go, standing frozen in place, and by the time he even thought about stopping you—

It was too late.

Outside your dorm, you yanked your phone out of your pocket, fingers flying across the screen like a woman on a mission. Your pulse was still hammering, adrenaline buzzing under your skin as you pulled up Mingyu’s contact and typed without hesitation.

You: Feel like crashing a party on Saturday?

Barely a beat passed before your phone vibrated with his response.

Mingyu: You had me at “party.”

Bangchan pushed open the door to his dorm with more force than necessary, letting it slam shut behind him. His pulse was still racing, his jaw tight with frustration.

And there she was. Yeojin.

Lying on his bed, scrolling through her phone like she owned the place. His old sweatshirt was hanging off her shoulder, and she barely spared him a glance when he walked in.

“Oh, you’re back,” she said, swinging her legs idly. “Didn’t take you long.”

Bangchan set his bag of takeout on the desk and exhaled sharply through his nose. “What the hell did you say to her?”

Yeojin finally looked up, her expression the perfect blend of innocence and amusement. “Say what exactly?”

His fingers flexed at his sides. “You know what,” he ground out. “You told her we’re together. Why?”

She tilted her head, brows lifting. “I never said that.”

Bangchan let out a humorless laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeojin, don’t play games with me.”

“I didn’t, Chan.” she sighed dramatically, stretching her arms over her head. “She asked if you were here, I said no, and I introduced myself. It’s not my fault if she jumped to conclusions.”

He clenched his jaw, glaring at her. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

She just smiled. “So what if it is?” her voice dropped, teasing, as she sat up. “You used to like when I messed with people.”

Bangchan took a step back when she reached for him, his whole body recoiling instinctively.

“We’re not kids anymore, Yeojin,” he muttered. “And I don’t have time for this.” he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. “I got Thai food. Help yourself.”

Before she could say anything else, he was gone.

The cool night air did little to calm Bangchan’s nerves as he walked toward the basketball court, fists shoved in his hoodie pockets. His mind was a mess, replaying the way you had looked at him—like he was exactly what people warned you about.

Before he could spiral further, a familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

“Damn, what’s with the face?” Changbin asked, appearing from the other side of the path. “You look like you wanna punch a hole in a wall.”

Bangchan exhaled sharply. “Not a wall.”

Changbin frowned. “What the hell happened?”

Bangchan hesitated before tilting his head toward the court. “Basketball first. Talking later.”

Changbin smirked. “I like where this is going.”

Fifteen minutes later, Bangchan sat on the edge of the basketball court, legs stretched out, elbows resting on his knees, looking like life had personally drop-kicked him.

Across from him, Changbin dribbled the ball lazily, waiting. And waiting. Until his patience ran out.

“So?” Changbin finally asked, passing him the ball. “Spill.”

Bangchan caught it, staring at it for a second before shaking his head. “Yeojin’s here.”

Changbin nearly fumbled the rebound. “I’m sorry—what?” his face twisted in immediate disgust. “What the hell is she doing here?”

Bangchan sighed. “She came to visit. Said she was in town. It’s been years, and I figured—whatever, right? No harm in catching up.”

Changbin let out a dry laugh. “No harm? Bro, she’s a walking red flag. Why would you even entertain that?”

Bangchan pressed his tongue against his cheek. “I don’t know, man. Nostalgia? I mean, we didn’t exactly end badly, we just—” he sighed. “Didn’t work.”

Changbin scoffed. “Yeah, well, I never liked her. You know that.” 

Bangchan dribbled once, then tossed the ball toward the hoop. It hit the rim, circled, then dropped through the net. “There’s more.”

Changbin folded his arms. “Yeah, no shit. You’re sitting here like you just found out Santa isn’t real. What else happened?”

Bangchan caught the rebound and exhaled. “She saw.”

Changbin frowned. “Saw what?”

Bangchan gave him a look.

“Oh.” Changbin winced. “Shit.” he let out a slow whistle. “That’s… bad.”

“No shit,” Bangchan muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “She showed up at my dorm, and instead of me opening the door, Yeojin did.”

Changbin groaned. “Dude. No.”

“Oh, it gets worse,” Bangchan went on, voice dripping with frustration. “Yeojin, being the manipulative little menace she is, basically introduced herself as my girlfriend.”

Changbin stared at him like he just admitted to murder. “And she believed that?”

Bangchan laughed bitterly. “Why wouldn’t she? The look she gave me, man… like I was exactly what she expected. Some asshole playing games.”

Changbin studied him for a second. “And that bothers you.”

Bangchan scoffed. “Of course it fucking bothers me.” he leaned forward, gripping the ball tight. “She drives me insane, Bin. Like—she acts like it’s nothing. Like whatever we had was just this casual, meaningless thing. But then she turns around and—” he exhaled sharply. “Her actions say otherwise. She looks at me like she feels something. She reacts like she cares. But every time I get close, she shuts it down.”

Changbin snorted, rolling the ball between his palms. “So basically, she’s bullshitting, you’re bullshitting, and now you’re both miserable?”

Bangchan shot him a glare.

Changbin smirked. “I mean, she won’t admit she likes you, and you’re sitting here trauma-dumping on me instead of doing something about it.”

Bangchan groaned, tilting his head back against the wall. “She’s pissed, Bin. Like, really pissed.”

“So fix it.”

Bangchan laughed humorlessly. “Yeah. Easier said than done.”

Changbin passed him the ball. “So what now?”

Bangchan caught it, staring down at the faded lettering on the rubber. That was the question, wasn’t it? Because right now, you wanted nothing to do with him.

And honestly? He deserved it.

Saturday morning. Group breakfast. Good vibes. At least, that’s what you were aiming for.

You were mid-story, telling Felix how the auditions had gone, when the universe decided to test your patience. Again.

Changbin strolled in with Jisung, Bangchan, and—you had to blink twice just to confirm—Yeojin.

Of course. Because it wasn’t enough that he lied. He had to parade it around like some kind of grand event.

“I need a fat slice of chocolate cake,” Changbin announced, dropping into his seat. “Something sweet to cleanse the absolute trash energy in the air.”

Your eyes flicked to Yeojin, who was standing a little too comfortably next to Bangchan. 

“Yeojin, long time no see,” Hyunjin greeted, all polite and civil.

She beamed. “Hyunjin! Oh my God, it’s really you!” she gushed, voice dripping with enthusiasm. You wanted to be a girl’s girl, really—you did. But something about her tone made your eye twitch.

“Who’s that?” Sohee whispered, not even bothering to be discreet.

“Oh, nice to meet you,” Yeojin said, flashing a smile that felt way too rehearsed. “Yeojin. Chan’s friend.”

She said it like she was accepting a damn award. The table went dead silent. Everyone shared a look.

You, however, remained completely unbothered, taking a slow sip of your strawberry milk like you had all the time in the world.

Bangchan slid into the seat across from you, throwing not-so-subtle glances in your direction—just in case you maybe wanted to acknowledge his existence.

You didn’t. Instead, you busied yourself with literally anything else. The napkins. The straw in your drink. The slow, satisfying process of ignoring him.

If he wanted your attention, he’d have to earn it.

Yeojin was annoyingly easy to get along with. Effortless charm, perfectly timed laughs—like she’d studied the art of socializing and graduated top of her class. And maybe that wouldn’t have bothered you if you didn’t feel an immediate, inexplicable urge to dislike her.

Maybe it was the way she smiled just a little too much. Like she was in on some inside joke that no one else was laughing at. Or how she leaned into Bangchan like he had his own gravitational pull, always conveniently this close to falling into his lap.

For someone who had been so desperate to explain himself last night, he looked awfully comfortable letting her cling to him now.

“So, everyone’s going tonight, right?” Jisung asked, drumming his fingers on the table.

Yeojin jumped on the conversation like it was an open invitation. “What’s tonight?”

“Jisung’s DJing at a party,” Eunji answered, taking a sip of her drink.

Yeojin hummed, tilting her head in that thoughtful but not really way. “I was going to leave after lunch, but… I guess I can stay a little longer.”

She glanced at Bangchan like she was waiting for permission.

Too bad he wasn’t paying attention. His focus was glued to his phone, fingers tapping out a message.

Your own phone buzzed in your pocket.

Bangchan: can we talk?

Your eyes flicked up, purely on instinct. And there he was. Watching you.

You frowned, pulled out your phone, read the message, and stuffed it right back in your pocket. No response.

The table blurred into background noise. Laughter, conversation, the occasional clatter of silverware—it all melted into static. Because Bangchan was still looking. That steady, expectant stare that made your skin itch. That made your chest feel a little too tight.

Your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: you can’t ignore me forever.

Bet.

You smirked to yourself. If Bangchan thought he could tell you what to do, he had another thing coming.

Grabbing the strap of your bag, you stood up, all casual confidence, and turned to Sohee and Eunji. “I’m heading out with Hyunjin.” no further explanation. Just a statement.

Hyunjin, caught in the crossfire of whatever this was, frowned. “Wait—what? Since when?”

You just kept walking, tossing a grin over your shoulder. “Since right now. Just smile and act natural.”

 You made sure to take the long way around the table, passing directly in front of Bangchan—not looking at him. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Just air.

Hyunjin, still struggling to keep up, shot a quick glance back before leaning in. “Okay, seriously, what was that? Bangchan looked like he was about to start breathing fire.”

You flicked your hair over your shoulder, your smirk widening.

“Revenge, Hyun. Just a little harmless revenge.”

The house was packed.

Neon lights flickered wildly, splashing the room in chaotic waves of electric blue and fiery red, pulsing in sync with the bass. The air was thick—heat, sweat, cheap cologne, and the sharp sting of alcohol weaving together into something intoxicating. The floor thrummed beneath your boots, bodies moving in effortless rhythm, a silent agreement to just let go.

Jisung was at the DJ booth, throwing in ad-libs between transitions, hyping up the crowd like he was born for this. A remix dropped, shaking the walls, and the entire party roared in approval. Off-campus ragers had a way of making reality blur, like stepping into a fever dream.

Perfect.

Eunji and Sohee spotted you first, their eyes going comically wide, like they’d just witnessed the second coming of Christ.

“Jesus, look at you,” Sohee gasped, gripping your arm for dear life.

Eunji gave a solemn nod. “This outfit should be illegal.”

You twirled, just enough to let your skirt flare out, a little reminder of why you picked it.

“Drinks first, right?” you pointed at Hyunjin, who gave you an approving nod.

You peeled away from the group, squeezing through the sweaty crowd toward a corner where a massive keg stood like a beacon of bad decisions. There were stronger drinks, but you decided to take it easy—for now.

Then, in half a second, you felt it. Like your body already knew, like a moth drawn to a flame.

Under the pulsing red lights, he looked dangerous. A predator in slow motion, moving through the crowd with that effortless, lazy confidence that made people either run toward him or clear a path. Flashes of white and blue caught the sharp cut of his jaw, the faint sheen of sweat at his collarbone. A contrast—razor-edged and infuriatingly soft all at once.

And yet. You couldn’t focus on any of that.

Because Yeojin was practically clinging to him.

Talking—laughing, leaning, performing—but Bangchan barely seemed to notice. If anything, he looked somewhere else entirely. Somewhere you were. Because the second your eyes met, his focus locked in.

And he started moving. One step. Then another.

But before he could take a third, an arm slid around your waist.

Mingyu.

His touch was warm, firm—a perfectly timed lifeline. His lips brushed against your ear, voice low and deliberate. “Have I mentioned you look insane tonight?”

A slow, satisfied smile curled on your lips. Perfect.

Through the neon haze, you caught Bangchan’s reaction over Mingyu’s shoulder. Electric blue light flickered across his face like something straight out of a movie scene.

Oh, he was pissed. Not just annoyed. Not just irritated. Seething.

Jaw clenched. Shoulders tight. Eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

Good.

Mingyu pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Dance with me?”

You let the question hang, stretching the moment just because you could—fully aware of your audience. Then, with a casual flick of your fingers, you grabbed Mingyu’s wrist and turned back to your friends.

And that’s when the remix hit.

The song of the summer. A full-blown club anthem blasted through the house, lights flashing in sync with the bass, and suddenly Eunji and Sohee were dragging you onto the dance floor. You barely had time to toss Mingyu a look before pulling him into the crowd with you.

Sohee was already wrapped around her boyfriend’s neck, hair flying as she danced like she was possessed, while Minho just laughed at her antics. Jisung was losing his mind behind the DJ booth, hyping up the party like a man on a mission.

And Bangchan? He didn’t move. He just watched.

Watched as you danced. Watched as Mingyu’s hands found your waist. Watched as you threw your head back, laughing, moving with the beat like you had nothing to prove.

And under the pulsing red lights, with silver glitter catching on your cheekbones, you didn’t just look good. You looked untouchable.

And he looked like a man about to start a war.

You spun around, arms draped over Mingyu’s shoulders as his hands trailed down to your waist, pulling you into the rhythm. To anyone watching, you two looked dangerously close—every move synced, every touch easy, like this was something more than just a party moment. But in the back of your mind, a small, annoying voice reminded you that this wasn’t about Mingyu at all.

Still, too late now.

The strobe lights flashed in bursts, making everything feel like a glitch in time—jumping, dancing, bodies moving like there was no tomorrow. You lost sight of Bangchan for a while, which was probably for the best. So, you let go. Had fun. Actually enjoyed yourself with your friends.

Until someone slammed into you, knocking the air right out of your lungs.

One second, Mingyu was right there. The next, he was gone, practically launched across the floor. “What the—” you barely got the words out before you saw the damage.

Changbin stood there, wide-eyed, drenched in a suspiciously pink drink, looking like he just survived a battlefield. And Mingyu? Equally soaked, equally stunned, like he was still processing what the hell just happened.

“Dude, shit—sorry!” Changbin shouted, voice barely cutting through the music.

You blinked, taking in the absolute mess before turning back to him. “Are you good?”

Changbin nodded rapidly, looking between you and Mingyu like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or start running. “Yeah, yeah, my bad!”

Then he turned back to Mingyu, hands up like a man pleading for his life.

Mingyu just let out a sigh, lifting the hem of his now ruined white T-shirt like he was mourning a fallen soldier. “Alright. I’ll be right back,” he said, shaking his head before disappearing into the crowd.

Meanwhile, Changbin grabbed your arm, his expression serious—well, as serious as someone drenched in a neon-pink drink could look. He gestured for you to follow, weaving through the bodies until you reached the foot of the stairs.

“What?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Can you grab me a shirt? I left one in Jisung’s backpack.”

You took a second to assess the situation. Changbin, slightly tipsy, covered in pink, blinking at you like a lost puppy. He looked ridiculous.

With a dramatic sigh, you caved. “Fine.”

“You’re the best,” he said, clasping his hands like he was praising the heavens. “It’s in the room on the right, upstairs.”

You turned, climbing the stairs while dodging couples making out on the steps like it was some kind of kissing marathon. Once you reached the hallway, you scanned the doors—long corridor, a few rooms—until you spotted one slightly open on the right.

Alright. In and out. Quick mission.

Stepping inside, you started searching for Jisung’s bag—first the floor, then the bed. Nothing.

And then—

Movement.

From the corner of your eye, a figure emerged from behind the bed, rising like a shadow from the dark.

Your breath caught. Bangchan. Standing there. Watching you.

A black cable twirled between his fingers, slow and deliberate, his gaze unreadable under the dim glow of the hallway lights.

“What?” you were the first to break the silence, arms crossing instinctively. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Bangchan gave you a flat look, holding up the black cable like it was evidence in court. “I should be asking you that. I came to get Han’s charger.” he raised an eyebrow, gaze sharp, like he wasn’t entirely convinced.

You opened your mouth, fully prepared to deliver something scathing—but before you could get a word out, the door swung open again.

“Sorry, kids! Not opening this door until you sort yourselves out!”

You barely had time to process Changbin’s smug, drunken grin before the door slammed shut.

For half a second, you froze.

Then you launched at the door, fists pounding like you could open it through sheer rage. “Changbin, open this fucking door right now!”

No answer. Just the distant thrum of music, too muffled for anyone outside to hear you scream bloody murder.

You yanked at the handle—definitely locked.

With a sharp inhale, you turned, glaring daggers at Bangchan, who was just… standing there. Watching. Amused.

“Are you just gonna stand there? Do something!”

His lips twitched, like he was this close to laughing. “Pretty sure this is your problem, not mine.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Oh, so now you don’t wanna get involved?”

Bangchan sighed—slow, exaggerated—before strolling up to the door, resting a lazy hand on the knob, and giving it a completely useless jiggle. Then he turned back to you with a straight face.

“Yeah. It’s locked.”

You stared at him. Blinked. Then scoffed so hard you nearly choked.

“No shit, Sherlock. Are you serious?”

Bangchan couldn’t help it—he laughed. Because you were spiraling, and honestly? It was funny as hell.

“I’ll call him,” he said, still smirking.

You rolled your eyes so hard they nearly left your skull and made your way over to the double bed in the corner. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered, collapsing onto the edge like this was some Shakespearean tragedy.

Then a thought clicked, and suddenly, everything made sense.

Your head snapped up. “Wait—” you shot to your feet, eyes narrowing. “He knows. You told him.”

Bangchan barely looked fazed. “He kinda figured it out on his own, if that makes you feel any better.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Bangchan was so into you, stealing glances constantly, and Changbin wasn’t stupid. The man could read a room like it was his job.

You dragged a hand down your face, exhaling sharply. “This is a nightmare.”

Bangchan tilted his head, amused. “Jesus, is it really that bad being stuck in here with me? Last time, you weren’t exactly complaining.”

The second those words left his mouth, you hit him with a look so deadly he immediately shut up.

“Just get Changbin to open the damn door, Bangchan,” you said flatly, plopping back down onto the bed, dead center, legs crossed like you were settling in for a long, miserable wait.

You pulled out your phone, thumbs flying across the screen as you sent a message to Hyunjin—the only person who knew about the whole situation. You could have asked Sohee, Eunji, or even Mingyu, but that would just open a very annoying can of worms.

And you were not in the mood for questions.

This couldn’t be real. No way. The second you got out of here, Changbin was getting his ass handed to him. And Mingyu was probably already wondering where the hell you’d disappeared to. Just like Yeojin was probably searching for Bangchan.

Perfect.

“He’s not answering,” Bangchan announced, completely unfazed. “Which means he’s ignoring me on purpose. So, we wait.” he sat by the window like it was just another Tuesday, leaning back on his palms.

“This is your fault.”

That earned you a scoff. “How the hell is this my fault?”

You shot him a glare. “If you hadn’t spilled everything to him, none of this would be happening.”

Bangchan let out a dry laugh, tilting his head like you were so predictable. “Right. And if you hadn’t jumped to conclusions without actually listening to me—like you always do—none of this would be happening either.”

Oof. Direct hit. You hated when he had a point.

“I have nothing to hear from you,” you muttered, crossing your arms and staring at literally anything else in the room.

Silence.

Annoyingly, maddeningly, deafeningly loud silence.

Bangchan rested his arms on his knees, watching you like he had all the time in the world. And pretending he wasn’t there, yeah, that was a joke. His presence was like gravity—pulling, heavy, impossible to ignore.

Less than ten minutes passed before the anger started simmering down. Because that’s how it always went with him. Like a fire that burned too hot, too fast.

“You seriously thought she was my girlfriend?”

You turned, locking eyes with him. “What else was I supposed to think? She said it herself.”

Bangchan hummed, tapping his fingers against his knee. “She’s not. Yeojin’s an ex—from high school. Ancient history.” he exhaled sharply through his teeth. “She’s just… a little clueless.”

“A little?” you let out a sharp laugh. “She was wearing your clothes when I showed up at your dorm.” you rolled your eyes, but Bangchan only smiled. Because, yeah, that sounded a whole lot like jealousy.

Then something clicked. “Wait—what were you doing there that night?”

“Nothing.” you looked away, ignoring the sudden heat crawling up your neck.

His laugh was soft, almost teasing. But the way he was looking at you? Like you were the only thing worth seeing? That was dangerous.

“C’mon. Seriously.”

You groaned, rolling your eyes, because he was so annoyingly persistent. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Doesn’t it?” Bangchan tilted his head, lips curving in that cocky little smirk. “I doubt that.”

“Well, I don’t care,” you shot back, folding your arms in defiance.

Bangchan pushed himself off the floor, moving to sit on the edge of the bed—close, but not too close. Still, he was big. Broad. Built like a problem. And despite the space between you, he somehow took up all of it.

Worse? He smelled stupidly good.

“What do you want?” you asked, bracing yourself for the answer—because Bangchan was stupidly honest, and you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever was about to come out of his mouth.

But he didn’t say a word. Just kept looking at you, pupils blown wide, gaze slow as it dragged over your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

Then, finally— “Why’d you come that night?”

You swallowed. “I went because… I wanted to talk. And… I wanted things to be okay between us.”

For a second, he just stared at you like you’d punched the air out of his lungs. Because you had gone after him. To fix things. To close the distance.

“You wanted to?” you barely nodded before he let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Well, we’re two idiots, then.” his lips curled slightly, his whole energy shifting. “Because that’s all I want.”

Your eyes locked, and something about the way he was looking at you made your chest tighten. He had this insane ability to make you feel completely seen, like he could pick apart every thought in your head just by watching you.

“Why?”

Bangchan was never one to hold back, never afraid to be himself—especially when it came to being honest about what he wanted. And right now, he was this close to just laying it all out. Because the truth? He was ridiculously into you. More and more, every damn day.

“You’re stubborn, and I’m an idiot,” he muttered, lips pressing into a thin line before he let out a short laugh. The kind that made you laugh, too, before you even realized it. And honestly it pissed you off a little how easily he could do that—swing you from one extreme to another like it was nothing.

“Look,” he sighed. “I’m just gonna be straight with you, like I always am. I’m not playing games. I didn’t mean it when I said we were nothing.”

“But we are,” you mumbled, even though the words tasted like a lie. You weren’t anything. No labels, no relationship. Just a mess of late nights and tangled sheets—until things got way too complicated.

“I don’t want us to be nothing,” he said, shrugging, like he was just casually throwing his cards on the table. “Because ever since that first time, I haven’t wanted anyone else.”

Your breath caught, and suddenly, the bed felt too small, the room too warm. What the hell? You hadn’t expected this conversation to go there.

Bangchan? Not with anyone else? That was news. The guy was basically campus royalty when it came to hookups. Half the girls in your year had probably been in his dorm at some point.

And now he was sitting here, telling you this?

But now he was standing there, saying it out loud—no one else. Just you. And it sent your stomach into a tailspin.

“I shouldn’t have given you shit for it,” you muttered, nodding like that would somehow make the awkwardness go away. “I mean, since we’re not… you know.”

Bangchan lifted an eyebrow, clearly amused by how flustered you were.

“Oh, I know,” he said. “But you don’t get it. I don’t want anyone else.”

Your pulse spiked. Too fast. Too loud. What the hell was he trying to say?

“No, you’re just—” you let out a breathy, nervous laugh, stepping back like that would help. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Bangchan didn’t let you go far. His hand caught yours, warm and steady, fingers wrapping around your wrist before he pulled you closer—right between his legs.

And then his hands were on your waist, fitting there like they belonged.

Your breath hitched.

His voice, suddenly lower, smoother, like silk wrapped in heat. “I know exactly what I want.”

Your eyes met his, and damn it, he was beautiful. That kind of beauty that wasn’t just about sharp jawlines and perfect features—it was something deeper, something that burned. The way his eyes locked onto you, glowing under the dim light. The way his expression was serious, but there was still softness lingering beneath it.

You knew what you wanted too. You just weren’t ready to admit it.

Your hands moved before your mind could catch up, tracing the curve of his brow, the sharp edge of his cheekbone—slow, like you were trying to memorize him by touch. Then, without thinking, you cupped his face, thumbs brushing over his skin.

Bangchan didn’t pull away. Didn’t even flinch. He just leaned into your touch, like this was normal, like you did this all the time. But you didn’t. Not like this.

Then he kissed the back of your hand, soft and slow, and damn it, you smiled.

“Say what you want,” he murmured.

“I…”

“I don’t care if I’m your dirty little secret,” he cut in, voice rough, low, burning at the edges. “I don’t care about any of it. As long as you’re mine, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give.”

Something shifted inside you—hot, sharp, irreversible. Like a match hitting gasoline.

Bangchan tilted his head, pushing a strand of hair from your face. “What are you so afraid of?” his lips curled into a half-smirk. “You hate me that much?”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “I don’t hate you.” your fingers tightened against his jaw. “Not even close.”

Bangchan pulled you in, arms locking tight around your waist, pressing you so close you could feel every breath he took against your skin. A shiver shot down your spine, anticipation curling in your stomach. You were teetering on the edge, seconds away from giving in—giving him everything. And if he was willing to take whatever you had to offer… What was stopping you?

With one swift move, his hands traced up the back of your thighs, fingers pressing into the sensitive skin behind your knees, guiding you onto the bed and onto his lap. The air between you shifted, crackling, something unspoken but heavy settling in the space only you two could understand.

It was automatic—this need, this burn. Like gravity, like the sky being blue, like the way your chemistry was always one spark away from setting the whole place on fire.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, yanking back just enough to force his eyes on you. And God, he looked wrecked—vulnerable in a way that made your stomach flip, pupils blown wide like he’d already lost the battle.

That’s when you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate—a clash of want, frustration, and every second of tension that had built between you. Like a wave crashing against the shore, wild and uncontrollable. You rocked against him, fingers tightening in his hair, barely biting back a moan when his hands gripped your ass, lifting you further into him.

Your skirt had already ridden up, but Bangchan wasn’t complaining.

He knew exactly what he was doing—kissing, nipping at your skin, hitting every spot that made you gasp. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more. More contact, more of him.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, tugging it up with shaky hands. Bangchan barely hesitated, lifting his arms, muscles flexing as he pulled the fabric over his head. The low, guttural sound that left his lips sent a shiver through you—deep, raw, almost primal. And God, he looked unreal.

“You want me to stop?” he murmured against your lips, voice thick with restraint.

You shook your head immediately, body betraying you with the way it trembled against him.

“I can stop,” he teased, but this time, the possibility made your stomach flip. Your eyes snapped to his, filled with something dangerously close to panic.

Stepping back, just for a second, you took him in. And no matter how many times you’d seen him like this, you never quite got used to it. All of him. Broad, sculpted shoulders, solid arms, every inch of him screaming strength. And all of that was yours.

Bangchan smirked, eyes narrowing with smug satisfaction. “You look like you want something.”

You huffed a laugh, shoving him back. “Shut up.”

But before you could move away, his hands gripped your waist, pulling you down with him. You landed against his chest with a startled yelp, his warmth pressing into you.

Then he kissed you—slow and deliberate, like he was savoring every second, every breath, as if the night stretched endless before you, mapping every inch of your lips with his own. Your laughter faded, swallowed by him.

Pinned against him, you could feel the effect you had on him, the heat of him beneath dark denim. And if there was one thing you knew, it was how to push him over the edge.

So you kissed him harder, rolling your hips against his.

His hands flew to your ass, squeezing before delivering a sharp slap that had you moaning into his mouth. That was just how it was with you two—obscene, messy, utterly shameless. And nothing turned you on more.

Your fingers found the zipper of his jeans, finally breaking away from his lips to look down at him. Bangchan pushed up on his elbows, watching you through half-lidded eyes, his breath ragged as he fought to stay still. His fingers twitched, desperate to put an end to the torturous wait. He was so hard it was unbearable—just seeing you like this had him on the edge.

He didn’t hesitate to help, making quick work of what little fabric still separated you. And fuck, you were drenched. Just the sight of him like this—wrecked for you—had your whole body tightening in anticipation.

There were so many ways this could go, and you wanted them all. One night would never be enough.

Your hand wrapped around him, firm, deliberate. A shaky curse tumbled from his lips, his head tipping back as he melted into your touch. He was barely holding it together when you lifted your hips, and for a second, he thought you were going to sink down onto him. Instead, you slid against him, rolling your hips so he could feel everything—dragging over your entrance, teasing up to your clit before sliding back down.

“Holy shit,” Bangchan groaned, voice strangled.

His hands twitched, reaching for you, aching to do something. But before he could, you leaned in, pinning his wrists down against the mattress.

He was at your mercy now. Completely helpless. And he fucking loved it.

Meanwhile, your hips kept moving, sliding over him, teasing but never giving in. The sheer size of him, the way he dragged against your clit with every slick roll of your hips—it was maddening. You lost all sense of rhythm, chasing pleasure in short, frantic motions, needing more, always more.

Bangchan was wrecked beneath you. His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest rising and falling as he groaned through clenched teeth, letting you take what you wanted. And the sight of him like this completely undone because of you? It was enough to make your head spin.

Your wetness mixed with his pre-cum, making a mess between you, the heat of it dizzying. Another deep grunt tore from his throat, and fuck—his orgasm was creeping up way too fast. He wasn’t about to let that happen. Not yet.

Your grip on his wrists loosened, your body trembling above him, so damn close—

“Want me to fuck you?” the words were a rasp, low and filthy against your skin.

And God, hearing him say it like that, made you feel absolutely ruined.

You were right there, wavering on the edge, but then—Bangchan’s hands gripped your waist, flipping you with ease. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he pulled away, standing at the edge of the bed.

For a second, frustration flared hot in your chest—he’d just ripped away a mind-numbing orgasm—but the way he looked at you, eyes dark and full of promise, made it clear.

He wasn’t done. Not even close.

With impressive speed, Bangchan yanked your panties down, leaving you in nothing but that tiny skirt. You reached for your blouse, tearing it off without a second thought. Meanwhile, he fished a condom from his pocket, standing at the foot of the bed like he owned the place.

You bit your lip, taking in the sight of him—so big, so stupidly gorgeous.

Bangchan climbed onto the bed, his strong hands wrapping around your thighs, keeping them pressed together. His voice was low, commanding. "Spread your legs."

Your breath hitched, but you obeyed, parting them slowly. The skirt inched higher, higher, until it was bunched up around your waist.

He muttered something under his breath, gaze locked on how wet you were—for him. Almost dripping. You bit your lip, the weight of the moment thick in the air. "Please..."

Bangchan leaned in, kissing your stomach, then up to your chest. One arm braced against the bed, the other gripping himself as he brushed his cock against your cunt. The slow drag, the teasing, was cruel, and he knew it. He was watching you unravel—your body torn between frustration and aching need.

You were this close to grabbing him, to taking what you needed, but before you could, he caught your wrists in one hand, pinning them down.

"I'll let you..." his voice was a husky whisper, dark and full of promise. He kept that agonizing friction going, dragging against you, just enough to drive you insane. "But you have to tell me."

You were burning up, mind hazy, barely able to process his words. "Bangchan," you tried for something firm, but the second the tip of his cock rubbed against your clit—just the right mix of pleasure and frustration—a strangled moan slipped out instead.

"Tell me what you want, and it's yours," he murmured against your lips, smug as ever.

Your gaze met his, dark and needy. He picked up the pace, teasing you mercilessly—only to stop again. You let out a desperate whimper. This was torture.

"Just say it, love."

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, frustration bubbling over. "Your ego is too big."

Bangchan chuckled against your skin, stealing a quick kiss. "You know what else is big?"

You hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him in close. His breath caught, and for a second, he just looked at you—lips parted, eyes searching yours, ready to dive in.

"Guess you'll have to show me."

And Bangchan never turned down a challenge.

The moment he let you go, he was all action—rolling on the condom with practiced ease before yanking you flush against him. "Gonna fuck you so good you'll take it all back."

Then he slammed into you, deep, all at once, knocking the breath from your lungs. Stars burst behind your eyelids. Fuck, you’d never get used to the stretch. And neither would he, not with how tight you clenched around him, inch by inch.

Bangchan started slow, deliberate, watching every little reaction like he was committing it to memory.

"More," you gasped, nails dragging down his back.

And who was he to deny you?

A low, guttural curse slipped from his lips as he gripped the back of your leg, struggling to keep himself in check. But even he was failing. That dark, insatiable hunger inside him wanted to ruin you, break you apart piece by piece, and devour whatever was left.

"Yeah..." his hand found the back of your neck, and in one brutal motion, he buried himself to the hilt. Your eyes rolled back as a cry of pure pleasure ripped from your throat. "Fuck."

He did it again. And again. Testing you. Seeing just how much you could take. And then restraint snapped—his rhythm shifted from slow, deliberate thrusts to deep, relentless strokes that had you gasping, moaning, melting beneath him.

Your lungs fought for air, your body wrecked by the force of him. A tangled mess of curses and broken sounds spilled from your lips.

Bangchan leaned down, catching your mouth in a searing kiss, fucking you through every ragged breath. The filthy, desperate moans leaving his lips had you clinging to him, desperate to consume every last one.

"Bangchan—my God!" your fingers dug into his back like an anchor, but you were weightless, floating, dissolving into nothing.

You tried to pull him closer, but he straightened, still gripping your throat, keeping you right where he wanted.

"Say it." his thrusts were brutal, hitting so deep you thought you’d break apart. Faster. Harder. You cried out, a mess of pleasure and desperation, dizzy on the edge of something devastating."Tell me— you want me? Wanna cum on my cock?"

Your vision blurred, the sheer intensity forcing a tear to the corner of your eye. It was too much, but not enough, never enough.

"I want you," you choked out, voice ragged, shaking. "Fuck—" you barely finished the sentence before your body gave in, collapsing into pure, obliterating pleasure.

Bangchan caught your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it before murmuring against your mouth, “Good girl.”

Then his hand slipped between your bodies, finding your clit as he thrust into you, his fingers moving in tandem with his strokes. And that was it. The tipping point. Your back arched, but he pressed a firm hand to your stomach, pinning you down as pleasure overtook you. The last few thrusts sent you spiraling, your body clenching tight around him as you came hard, waves crashing over you.

Bangchan cursed under his breath, his grip tightening as his own release hit him like a freight train. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—" his whole body tensed, abs flexing as he emptied himself, barely managing to keep from collapsing on top of you.

Your chest rose and fell in sync with his, both of you wrecked, tangled, completely undone. He was so close, his forehead pressing against yours, damp hair sticking to his skin. And just like that, you kissed him—slow, deep, something unspoken passing between you. A shift.

Something had changed, and you both felt it.

"We need to stop doing this," you muttered against his lips.

Bangchan pulled back slightly, his brows knitting together. "What...?"

"Having sex in strangers’ rooms," you teased, the corner of your mouth quirking up. "Bad habit."

Relief flickered across his face before it was replaced by something far more dangerous. "Then let’s go to mine," he said smoothly, his voice thick with intent. "I’m not done with you."

You just laughed, shaking your head as you reached for your clothes. No argument, no teasing comeback—just that breathless, satisfied chuckle that told him you were just as wrecked as he was. And God, he admired you. The way you moved, the way you carried herself, as if what just happened was the most natural thing in the world. Like you hadn’t just left him completely undone.

He leaned back against the bed, watching as you slipped your blouse on, covering up inch by inch what he had just memorized with his hands, his lips, his tongue. A damn shame.

“I could go like this all night,” he murmured, voice thick with lust. His eyes dragged over you, slow and deliberate. “I’d never get tired of you.”

You paused for half a second, then, with a smirk, you glanced at him over your shoulder.

“Sweet talk won’t get you another round.”

He grinned, unbothered. “Who said I was asking?”

"Alright, lover boy," you sighed, straightening your skirt. "Call Changbin so we can get out of here before we end up adding ‘breaking and entering’ to our list of bad decisions."

But Bangchan just huffed out a laugh, reaching into his back pocket. You frowned, watching as he pulled out something small, something metallic—

And then he dangled a tiny key in front of your face.

Your breath caught. "You absolute—"

"Had the key the whole time?" he finished for you, grinning like the unapologetic menace he was.

You just stared at him, utterly gagged. "Are you telling me we could’ve left at any time—and you let me believe we were locked in here?!"

Bangchan had the audacity to laugh, and before you could get a single word of protest out, he grabbed your wrist, yanking you against him and crashing his lips onto yours. You let him. You melted into it, kissed him back like you weren’t even a little mad.

When he finally pulled away, his breath ghosted over your lips as he murmured, "I’m sorry, baby." But he was still laughing. Not sorry at all.

"No, you’re not," you shot back, trying—and failing—to sound pissed.

"You’re right," he admitted without shame, pressing another kiss to your mouth, slower this time, smug and indulgent. "But, in my defense… I knew you wanted me just as bad as I wanted you."

You narrowed your eyes, heat licking at your spine because—damn it—he wasn’t wrong.

Cocky bastard.

Still, you snatched the key from his fingers and shoved him toward the door. "Move before I leave your ass locked in here and tell everyone you cried for help."

Bangchan just smirked, twisting the doorknob with infuriating ease. "Joke’s on you—I’d make it sound sexy."

Bangchan slipped out first, leaving you alone in the dimly lit bedroom, the air still thick with everything that just happened. You took a breath, running a hand through your hair and letting out a low, incredulous laugh. Insane. That was the only word for it. Completely, absolutely, batshit insane.

You took your time freshening up before heading downstairs, blending back into the party like nothing happened—like your whole world hadn’t just been flipped on its head by a cocky bastard with unfairly good hands.

You found the drinks and poured yourself a beer, the cold liquid grounding you, when Hyunjin appeared at your side, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Mingyu was looking for you,” he said, tilting his head. “For a while. Then he gave up and left.”

You took a slow sip of your beer, carefully masking any reaction. “Huh. Tragic.”

Hyunjin squinted. “Okay, where the hell have you been?”

You shot him an easy smirk. “In the bathroom, Hyunjin. I have bodily functions like every other human being.”

His eyes narrowed further. “For that long?”

“Maybe I got lost,” you said with a shrug, taking another sip. “Or maybe I was reevaluating all my life choices.”

Hyunjin was still staring at you, unconvinced. “You were with someone.”

You huffed. “Stop being nosy and dance with me.”

Before he could pry any further, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him onto the dance floor. The bass thumped through your veins as you moved to the beat, thankful for the temporary distraction. But Hyunjin was sharp—too sharp. His gaze flickered to something over your shoulder, and then his lips parted in realization.

You didn’t have to turn around to know. You felt it.

Bangchan was across the room, talking to Changbin and Seungmin like he hadn’t just been inside you not too long ago. But the way he looked at you—steady, knowing, like he was still feeling every second of what just happened—Hyunjin caught it immediately.

“No way.” he gaped at you. “You didn’t.”

You met his stare, unfazed. “I did.”

Hyunjin groaned, rubbing his face like this was his personal crisis. “You two are so fucking messy.”

You just laughed, finishing the rest of your beer. “And yet, I’m having a great time.”

A while later, when you finally decided you’d had enough social interaction for one night, you nudged Hyunjin. “I’m heading out.”

He nodded. “Cool, I’ll get you an Uber. I’ll go with Lix.”

Before you could even reach for your phone, a familiar voice interrupted. “No need.”

Bangchan. Standing way too close, hands in his pockets, looking like the devil who got exactly what he wanted.

“I’m driving back,” he said smoothly. “I’ll take you.”

Your mouth opened, but Hyunjin’s eyebrow was already rising, looking between the two of you like he had front-row seats to a drama he needed to see play out.

“I can go alone,” you said, keeping your voice level.

Bangchan smirked. “I insist.”

You sighed, side-eyeing Hyunjin. His expression was nothing short of feral with interest.

“Fine,” you muttered. “But no funny business.”

Bangchan only chuckled, walking off first. You lingered behind for a few beats before following, slipping out quietly, only Hyunjin watching your exit with a smug, entertained look.

He was never letting you live this down.

The night air was sharp against your flushed skin, a cruel contrast to the heat still licking at your nerves. Bangchan stood by his car—a sleek, black beauty that suited him too well. Under the dim glow of the streetlights, he looked almost unreal, all sharp lines and confidence as he pulled the passenger door open, his gaze never leaving yours.

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t want to get in. But because you knew—the second you did, there’d be no turning back from whatever the hell this was becoming.

Bangchan saw right through you. He always did.

His voice dipped low, rough with amusement. “Get in, baby. Or I’ll put you in myself.”

Your stomach flipped. You rolled your eyes, masking the way his words sent a pulse of heat straight through you. “Such a gentleman,” you muttered, but your lips twitched, betraying you.

Still, you slid into the seat, the cool leather kissing your bare thighs. He followed, reaching over—closer, closer—until his fingers brushed the seatbelt, tugging it across you.

And suddenly, the air inside the car felt thick. Heavy.

His breath ghosted over your collarbone, close enough that his lips could’ve skimmed your skin if you so much as moved. You could feel the warmth of him, the way his fingers lingered just a second too long before clicking the buckle into place.

Your throat went dry.

You cleared it quickly, forcing out something—anything—to cut through the tension threatening to swallow you whole. “I’m exhausted.”

He pulled back just enough to smirk. “Sure you are.”

The car hummed to life, but your brain? It was shot to hell.

Because now you had to sit there and endure the sight of him driving one-handed, muscles flexing, veins peeking through his skin like temptation itself. It was obscene, the way he handled the car—like he did everything else. With control. With ease.

You swallowed, shifting in your seat, pressing your legs together.

Bangchan noticed. Of course, he did.

His smirk deepened, eyes flicking toward you before drifting back to the road. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, voice far too even to be convincing.

He made a sound, low in his throat, clearly unconvinced. Then, like he lived to ruin you, his hand dropped to your thigh—warm, steady, fingers pressing just enough to make you feel it.

Your breath hitched. “Bangchan.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough to let you catch the edge of his scent—clean, intoxicating, laced with something that made your pulse stutter. His thumb stroked slow, lazy circles against your skin.

“You’re always ready for me, aren’t you?” his voice was nothing but a taunt, silk-wrapped sin.

A shiver licked down your spine. The worst part? He was right. And he fucking knew it.

His fingers crept higher, brushing against the inside of your thigh, deliberate and slow. “I could fuck you right here,” he murmured, his breath feather-light against your ear. “No one would see. No one would know.”

Your body responded before your brain did, every nerve alight, screaming at you to let this happen.

But you had to be smart. For once.

With every ounce of restraint you had left, you grabbed his wrist, halting his movements before they ruined you completely. “I have to go.”

For a moment, he just looked at you, eyes dark, unreadable. Then, his lips curled—not in disappointment, but something far more dangerous.

“Fine.”

But before you could breathe, before you could move, he reached for you, tilting your chin up with maddening ease. His gaze locked onto yours, deep and knowing, before his tongue swept over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate, claiming.

Then he kissed you. Deep. Slow. Devastating.

By the time he pulled away, you were wrecked. Breathless.

“Goodnight, baby,” he murmured, unlocking the door like he hadn’t just unraveled you in a single move.

You barely remembered getting out, legs weaker than they had any right to be. As you walked back to your dorm, dazed and burning, one thought rattled through your skull like a warning you’d never heed:

He’s gonna be the death of me.

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