This Was So Good - Tumblr Posts

After watching a romcom with Tommy (who mentions offhand that nobody has ever romanced him like that), Buck activates his inner romantic (ie Season1Boyfriend!Buck) with one mission in mind: to completely and utterly sweep Tommy off his feet.

Tommy is this cool, confident and unflappable guy 24/7, and Buck has this need to see him blush.

Flowers, a candlelit meal, slowdancing in the moonlight. The whole shebang, and Tommy melts.

Im so sorry that this took an absolute age to get to! Lots of stuff going on and illness blah blah blah ANYWAY! Here it is, I hope you like it.

As Always if you have a bucktommy or saltommy prompt send to my ask box. Smut, fluff, whump.. whatever you want

🩶

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RATING: T

TW: 1 use of the f-slur

WORDS: 2,432

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Buck knew that Tommy loved a romcom. He liked lots of genres of movies, and all for different reasons. But romcoms he loved because of the fantasy of them. He’d told Buck once that growing up with a father like his, and then spending the majority of his adult years firmly tucked away in the closet, that he’d wholeheartedly believed that a true love or romance was not in his own future. That living vicariously through two people on screen, even if they were straight, was the closest thing he’d get to a happy ending.

He’d very much changed his mind since he’d met his Evan, but still Buck had been determined to give him all the romantic moments he’d missed out on over his life.

It started with surprising Tommy with a candle lit dinner ready when he came home from work.. Which ended with Buck being bent over the table as dessert. Not quite the emotional response he was going for, but hey who was he to say no to that!

Tommy mentioned once a book he loved as kid and Buck spent three weeks hunting down a first edition. He was certainly blown away by Bucks thoughtfulness and showed him immediately by getting on his knees. Again Buck was happy to oblige - he always was - but it still wasn’t the response he was truly hoping for.

He wanted to sweep Tommy entirely off his feet. Woo him to the point of breathlessness. Make him feel so unbelievably cherished and loved that he forgets out to speak.

And then the idea hit him.

Oddly, while watching Carrie.

“Man, the worst thing that happened at our senior prom was Mikey Jacobs spiking the punch. I still can’t drink Jack Daniels” Buck reminisced.

“Better than pigs blood, babe. Or, you know, the revenge by telekinesis.”

“True. What about you? What was yours like?”

Tommy sighed. “I, uh, didn’t go to mine.”

“Really?” Buck looked at him in surprise. “I mean granted you were secretly gay, but I know the girls would have been killing each other to get the Tommy Kinard to take them to prom.” The idea seemed to bring such joy to his Evans face that Tommy almost didn’t want to admit the reality.

“I appreciate the support, babe, but I wasn’t exactly drowning in dates with girls.” He laughed “I was 6’2” by the time I was 15 but I didn’t know how to build muscle or even eat right for my body’s needs. I went from 5’8” and over weight to 6’2” and skinny, which my dad just loved to point out constantly. I was super insecure and had zero confidence to ask a a girl out.” A look of sadness flickered across his face.

“Did people not go stag at your school?”

Tommy huffed a cold laugh. “Only fags and virgins go stag to a prom, Thomas.” He mimicked his father’s voice. Buck gently rubbed Tommys arm.

“I’m sorry you had to hear shit like that from your dad. You deserved so much better than that.”

“I know that now and mostly because of you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to Bucks lips and smiled.

“Good.” He smiled back, already formulating his next plan to woo the shit out of his boyfriend.

This one took a few weeks of planning but Buck was certain it would knock Tommys socks off.

Tommy was surprised that Lucy had suddenly turned up at Harbour on what was supposed to be her day off. Even more surprised when she offered, nay - insisted - that she take Tommys remaining 24 hours of his 48 hours shift.

In the end their Captain had to practically shove him out of the harbour doors to get him out. He eventually relented and left for home.

Approaching their front door he noticed a note in handwriting so bad it had to be Bucks. God did he love him but the man’s penmanship looked like a doctor’s. A drunk doctor’s. Wearing a plaster cast. Thankfully after almost a year together he’d learned how to decipher Evans scribbles.

“Go straight upstairs.

Shower and get dressed..”

“Huh?”

“Don’t “huh” me, Kinard. Just do it. Then meet me in the dining room.

P.s: love you, Your Evan.”

Tommy chuckled to himself but did as he was asked and walked straight up the stairs to their bedroom. He was surprised, and confused, to see his tux freshly pressed and laid out on their bed.

After showering and dressing he made his way back down found himself knocking on his own dining room door for permission to enter.

“Come in.” Evans voice called from inside.

Tommy opened the door his mouth and eyes opened wide at what he saw.

The table had been pushed to the side wall, with a black cloth draped over the top, atop of which was a punch bowl filled with an orangey pink liquid. Surrounding it was lots of bowls filled with candy and chips and other kids favourite snacks.

A shiny disco ball hung from the ceiling with paper decorations swinging from the Center of the room and up to the corners. Twinkling lights hung all around giving the room a gorgeous warm glow.

And standing in the centre of the dining room, under the disco ball, in a tux that fit him so fucking perfectly was the most beautiful man Tommy had ever seen.

“What’s.. what’s going on?” Tommy asked not being able to hide his smile.

Evan took a few steps toward him and held out his hand. “Thomas Kinard. Will you go to prom with me?” Every time Tommy thinks he can’t fall in love with Evan any more, he’s proven wrong.

For the next two hours they do nothing but dance like idiots, drink spiked punch (tequila instead of Jack Daniel’s this time - buck would actually like to remember this prom), and snack on junk food.

Tommy couldn’t remember the last time he had let loose like this. Or even smiled this hard. Evan was by far the greatest joy to ever come into his life. He reminded Tommy of what fun was, what joy was and what it felt like to be truly unashamedly himself - something that nobody had ever made him felt safe enough to truly be.

Buck knew he’d achieved his task of sweeping Tommy off his feet tonight already, but there was one more thing he decided, last minute, that he was going to do.

Buck picked up his phone and searched for the perfect song, settling on Songbird by Eva Cassidy because it was on the soundtrack to Tommy’s favourite movie Love, Actually. He didn’t even need to do anything because as soon as the opening bars played through the speaker Tommy instantly knew what it was and pulled Buck into a slow dance.

They swayed slowly and silently for a few moments just breathing in the perfect moment with each other with Tommys arms wrapped around Bucks waist and Bucks arms around his neck.

“So, not that I’m complaining, babe, what with all the romancing lately?” Tommy asked.

“You deserve it.” Was Bucks simply reply. Tommy looked at him with a mixture of adoration with a hint of confusion. “You go out of your way to show me how much you love me and to do all these sweet and romantic things for me, but you deserve them too. You deserve to be shown how much you mean to me also.” Tommy was looking at him with those eyes again - the big bright ones Buck first saw right before Tommy had kissed him for the first time - and he had to use every bit of strength to hold back from jumping him, because he needed to say this before his courage disappeared.

“I see how you look at these little moments in the romcoms you love and I hate that you never got to experience them, so I wanted you to have some of them of your own. Our own.

“Plus, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to tell you just how much I love you. To tell you how unbelievably happy that you walked, well, flew into my life. To tell you that I have never in all of my life thought that I deserved to have someone so beautiful and kind and wonderful and just fucking incredible as you. And.. and to ask you to marry me.”

Tommy blinked. Did he hear that correctly?

“Wh-what?”

“I know, it’s.. we’ve not even been together a full year yet, and full disclosure I didn’t even know I was going to ask until like 10 minutes ago so I don’t have a ring, and-“ Tommy grabbed Buck either side of his neck and pressed his lips firmly against his. When Tommy pulled back his cheeks were wet with tears cascading over his beautiful lower lashes. Finally, Buck thought.

“Hold that thought.” He said simply before quickly leaving the room. He took 2 steps at a time as he hurtled upstairs, before running back down seconds later back to Buck still stood in the center of the dining room.

He lifted up his palm on top of which was a dark blue velvet box, opened, with 2 tarnished silver bands of differing sizes, each with a shiny silver strip running around the centre of each of them.

“You bought.. how long have you..” Buck could barely get the words out. His eyes kept flicking between Tommys beautiful face and the rings in his hand.

“About a month. Well, I ordered them custom made about 2 months ago but I’ve had them for a month.”

“Custom?” Was all Buck could get out.

Tommy pointed to the shiny part of the rings. “A couple of years ago I had this rescue and the husband of the woman we were life flighting was telling us about how they met. Anyway, he said that his family had this tradition of putting something sentimental in the band to give to your partner as.. sort of as a piece of you.

You know that piece of metal that sits on my desk in the study?”

“Y-yeah. It’s part of the blade from the first chopper you flew when you transferred to harbour.”

“Right. Well, it now has a little chunk missing.” He laughed. “Transferring to the 217 was the first piece of me finally becoming who I always wanted to be. You’re the last piece, Evan.”

Buck had this whole night planned - minus is own spontaneous proposal - and had wanted Tommy to be the feeling pleasantly surprised and loved.. yet here he was himself being loved so fucking beautifully it was taking everything within him to not break apart right there.

“What’s-what’s in your ring?” He asked.

“Well, that was.. a little trickier. And full disclosure on my part - Maddie knows because I had to enlist her help.”

“Okay..”

“It’s kinda difficult to pick something when your boyfriend loves so many things,” he teased “and then Maddie.. she gave me a little silver bracelet that she was given as a kid and-“

Buck inhaled a breath when he realised what bracelet Tommy was referring to. Immediately his whole chin began to quiver and tears fell from his eyes.

“The one that Daniel gave to her.”

“Yeah.” Tommy said softly. “She told me how he’d seen it one day when he was with your grandparents when he was 6 or something and insisted he give to her for her birthday.” Buck nodded, not being able to find words. “She said that this would be something that would be special to you because you never got to know him. Is-is that okay?”

Buck looked from the ring back to up Tommy; eyes completely blurred from tears pouring out of him.

“I.. this..” He could always find peace in Tommy eyes but this was all so.. it was overwhelming and.. he took a deep breath to try and calm himself.

“Tommy, this whole night was-was supposed to be about you.. a-and showing you just how much to mean to me and then..” he blew out another breath trying to center himself “and then here you are with the most beautiful fucking gesture, I.. I can’t..” The tears flowed once again and this time he threw his arms around Tommys neck and held on tight. Tommy, as he always did, reciprocated and held him tightly back.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried into Tommys neck. Tommys own tears were flowing too, now.

“God I love you, too, Evan. More than I could ever even show you.”

“I don’t know-“ Buck pulled back with a laugh “I think you hit it out of the ball park with this one.” He gently thumbed Tommys tears from his cheeks. He looked closer at the rings.

“Are there inscriptions?”

“Only on yours.” Tommy replied, sniffing.

“For my Evan. Always.” Buck read out loud. Tommy wiped away Bucks next tears that came. They were the only type of tears he ever wanted to illicit from his Evan.

“I thought you would what to decide what to inscribe on my ring. Can I put it on you now?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, technically I should be putting on you because I asked first. Actually, you haven’t actually said yes by the way..”

Tommy reached up an gently placed back an errant curl that had fallen onto Bucks forehead and looked at him with those big earnest eyes again.

“Yes.”

Buck took the ring out of the box and slid it onto Tommy finger, then Tommy did the same with Bucks ring.

Buck gripped the lapels of Tommys tux and pulled him into a kiss. They both sighed into it. It wasn’t a kiss that they’d shared before; this one was full of promise, of hope, a future - the rest of their lives as husbands.

Tommy pulled back for a second “By the way, I did promise Maddie that the second we became engaged that we would face time her. Where’s your phone?”

“She can wait a little bit.” Buck replied aiming his lips at Tommys neck.

“You sure? She might be mad.” Buck lifted up and looked Tommy in the eyes.

“Tommy, there’s only one thing I want to do right now and it absolutely does not involve my sister.”

“She can wait a little bit.” Tommy repeated wrapping his arms around his Evans neck and pulling him in for another deep kiss.

The girl with the pearl necklace (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You marry Daemon to secure an alliance. But surprisingly, you find a haven in him.

Warnings: Fluff. Smut. Oral (F receiving) Talks of race, colorism, racism, and self-esteem issues.

A/N: This has to be my most personal fic. It might not be as universal because it is part of my personal experience with race as a mixed person living in what is essentially a mixed region. I hope I do not get a bad response, but I will remind you what the title of my blog says.

“YOUR HAIR IS ugly.” The girl says, displeased. She is trying to comb through your hair with some coconut oil, but instead of curling prettily, your hair just falls flat. She has been at it for at least half an hour, her tugs to your hair getting increasingly more painful.

This time, you cannot hide the flinch. Pain, you had excused with being her first day. Making a mess, with her being unused to your hair. But calling you ugly? She was but a serving girl, she had no right.

The girl looks horrified at what she has just said. She is barely fourteen. But yet again, you are too. You have never called anyone ugly to their faces. You keep those kinds of thoughts to yourself.

“She is young, milady.” The older maid, the one that is supposed to supervise her, says. She smooths your hair back, trying to fix it. Her touch gets more and more desperate the more she tries. Your hair will simply not obey. The younger one has put so much product on your hair, it looks greasy and unwashed.

You stare at your features in the mirror. The lighter skin, the shock of unruly hair, not quite a wave, not quite a coil, but rather something in the middle. Bad hair, your previous maids called it. You wonder why you bothered trying with maids again.

It is your cousin’s wedding. A lovely young woman, with beautiful dark hair that you bet never reacts this way.

“I am sorry, milady.” The younger maid offers.

Your eyes are still fixated on your mirror. You wonder if your mother ever has these troubles too. With her sleek hair, and foreign features, you doubt anyone dares call her ugly. She may not have a title, as you do, but she was once regarded as the most beautiful woman in Lys.

But you. Oh, you. With your too wide nose, but too upturned to be a dornish one. With your high cheekbones in a short face. With dark eyelashes, purple eyes, and hair that is not quite right.

It screams outsider. It screams, not here, not there. Not a famed beauty in Lys, not quite the Sword of the Morning.

“Get out.” You say, to the serving girl. “Get out, both of you.”

You need to wash your hair three times for all the product to come out. You are late to the wedding.

The serving girl is relocated to the kitchens, where no one needs to talk to her. The older one is sent to tend to your father. You pass her sometimes, in the hallways of Starfall, and wonder if she is thinking your hair is ugly too.

You wonder the same thing on the day your fate changes. You are getting dressed when you see her, an ill omen in the middle of Starfall. Prince Qoren has summoned all the unwed noble ladies of Dorne to Sunspear, wishing to announce something. You think it can’t be anything good, considering he has refused to use a royal proclamation to do so.

The travel to Sunspear is taxing. You travel to the capital accompanied by your mother, a day before the actual meeting is set to take place. It allows the two of you to spend the night in a manse before having to meet the royal family.

She doesn’t know how to fix your hair. Your mother’s hair is pale silver, easy to manage and twist in the ways women up north prefer. She had tried hard to tame yours as a child, spraying it with water and stretching the curls with a brush so it laid flat. It never seemed to work as it did in hers.

You pin your hair up, a clip made of pearls and amethysts keeping it up. You do not have the same texture most women here have, that ensures gorgeous volume, so you play to your strengths, showcasing the deep color you have and using it as a backdrop for gorgeous accessories.

Your dress is chosen with great care. A deep lavender, with a tasteful cleavage, held at your shoulders by twin brooches of falling stars. Not even hearing your mother say you look beautiful eases your anxiety. You had seen her, the servant. She only appeared in your life when something was about to happen.

You are not the superstitious kind, but when you stand in a line in front of Prince Qoren’s throne with all the noble maidens of Dorne, you know you were right. That woman was a bad omen.

Prince Qoren smiles. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I am glad all of you chose to accept my invitation.” He stands. All the women in the room drop into a curtsy. “When I look at you, I see the best this Kingdom has to offer. It makes me proud. And it makes me confident enough to know I can ask this of you.”

You tense. Whatever he is going to ask is something bad, you can already tell. Some of the more clueless girls in the room look flattered by the delicate compliment, but it is a tactic you know well. You have been mocked enough to know that when someone compliments you so elaborately, a but usually follows. And it tends to be devastating.

His kind demeanor isn’t fooling you. Not in the least.

“We have never coddled our women, as the other Kingdoms do. War is coming for us, and we need strong allies. The Iron Throne offers us their support, but as always, it comes with a price.”

War. Of course it comes down to it. You have heard your parents whispering about it when they think you cannot hear. How Prince Qoren is thinking of sending his troops, instead of his money. How he expects your brother or father to lead them, sometimes against the Triarchy, sometimes against the Iron Throne.

It seems he has made his choice. Against the Triarchy. Your heart is seized by the sudden terror of the thought of your father going to war and not coming home. His sword, Prince Qoren called him.

Your house has been Dorne’s sword for decades. Ever since the first Dayne picked up their sword from the heart of a flaming star, you have defended the Kingdom against their enemies. Your very home once burned because of it.

Amongst the tales of flaming swords and fallen stars, you had never thought war would touch your home. Your brother was the current wielder of Dawn. Your father the head of your house. They would have to fight.

“A marriage pact. From a daughter of Dorne, to a Targaryen Prince. To bind our kingdoms, to ensure peace in this new alliance we embark. Dorne must remain unbowed, unbent, unbroken. House Martell has no daughters of their own to offer, so we ask one of you to go on our stead. It’s us who will pay your dowry, and you shall always have a home here.”

His words barely register as you brood about the upcoming war. You have heard of the Crabfeeder, and his brutality. You think of your kind, kind brother, and his sweet smile. He is a few years younger than you, untested in battle yet.

Some girls cheer. You look at your mother and notice she has the same stricken look you must be sporting. Some of the other parents talk animatedly between themselves, calculating the potential such a match offers their daughters. None seem to realize what it means.

War. War will come for Dorne, and the situation might turn out so bad, proud Prince Qoren will need the dragons’ help. The once unbowed man is being made to bow so low his forehead is touching the floor.

Prince Qoren raises a hand, quieting the hall.

“I am not asking for volunteers. I simply wished to gaze upon you myself, and decide who will marry Daemon Targaryen.”

Mumbles start again, some girls sounding disgruntled. Others preen and titter, trying to attract the Prince’s gaze. You keep your eyes firmly trained on the wall in front of you.

You would rather not marry this Daemon Targaryen. The politics in the other kingdoms are not your forte, but you have a vague notion of him being the brother to the current King. He must have a dragon, of course. And you think he is the one who has been in the conflict at the Stepstones, so he must be some sort of warrior.

No matter how much of a catch he might be, you wish to stay. If war is truly coming, you cannot bear to think of being separated from your family. Your mother will need you, when your father and brother are called away. And you don’t imagine yourself in a foreign land, waiting for news about them on your own.

Prince Qoren makes his way down the line of maidens. You barely spare him a glance, your mind thousands of miles away. But he pauses in front of you, looking at the shooting stars in your shoulders, the deep lavender of your dress.

“I hear Daemon Targaryen likes his women fair.” He comments. “And you are the fairest of us all.”

You swallow, throat suddenly dry. It takes all of your willpower not to fidget under his gaze. You give him an awkward smile.

Prince Qoren reaches to touch the brooch. His hands are elegant, fingers long and lean. He is about your mother’s age, and wears it just as well.

“Lady Dayne, is it?”

“Yes, my Prince.” You say, meeting his eyes. You may not be a classic dornish beauty, but you were still raised by the most charming woman in Lys. There are hardly any other women with manners as refined as yours, and you know all about the games men in power enjoy playing.

You cannot fawn over him. You cannot show him weakness. Because if you do, you will be common in his eyes, unespecial. It is not about beauty. It never is. That thought has given you great comfort during the years.

“How fitting. My dearest sword will be the one to defend her kingdom.”

Your hands begin to sweat. His choice is predictable. It is the same thing you had been thinking about your father and brother, House Dayne is the sword of Dorne. And swords, even more feminine ones, are only useful when war comes.

It doesn’t make it easier, that you should have expected it. It only makes your chest hurt. You do not dare look at your mother.

Instead, you drop into a curtsy and look at Qoren Martell as if he has made you the happiest woman in the world.

“I will be honored, my Prince.”

He smiles.

“Please, call me Qoren. We are to be family now.”

You look at your mother, insides turning to ice. You wonder how long until he takes you away from her.

In the end, it only takes a month. Qoren had been eager to depart and fix the realm’s issues. You now know plenty about the war in the Stepstones. Apparently, your future husband had secured the victory, giving the killing blow to the leader of the opposing army. But while won, the threat to your Kingdom remains. The Triarchy shall always reform, and not even the death of the Crabfeeder can stop them. Like one of those awful serpents from myth, you cut off its head and two more appear.

Pulling your support as the Triarchy was losing had been a bad move. They blamed Dorne for their defeat, and the Iron Throne thought the dornish were cowardly, only making their choice when it was clear who would lose. To avoid petty revenges and more bloodshed, Dorne needed new allies. And you needed them fast.

“We negotiated a new title for you.” Qoren tells you, as the carriage takes you from the docks and towards the Red Keep. “When you marry, you will become a Princess too, instead of remaining a Lady.”

“That sounds exciting.” You give him a bright smile. It's a very genuine one. Hearing yourself announced in such a manner would please you. “It will be strange, of course, changing it.”

“Nonsense.” Qoren laughs. “Only the best for my daughter.”

You falter, and decide to peer out of the window to hide your expression from him. You do not want him to think you are ungrateful.

The night is awfully cold, but you barely feel it. You are dressed in a purple velvet dress, still amazed by the material. You had never worn something so expensive, or made of such a warm fabric. It has the traditional dornish cut, with a plunging cleavage, but you find the added long sleeves fascinating.

The royal family had spared no expense in preparing your trousseau. As a daughter of House Martell, only the best would do. Obviously, all in their colors. This purple velvet gown was one of the few purple items you had been allowed to bring. It saddened you, having to forsake the color. You had always felt pretty in purple, since it matched your eyes.

You weren’t too sure how you felt about everything. Being sent to protect your kingdom and, by extension, your family from war was a great thing. But you were also being asked to leave your identity behind.

Never having left Dorne before, the journey had excited you, but also made you feel acutely lonely. And the thought of having to let behind your family, your colors, and even your name, only served to make you feel worse.

Your father would not be the one giving you away during your wedding, nor would your maiden cloak be the one of House Dayne. Instead, you would wear the sun and spear of House Martell.

But at this moment, as Qoren gets out of the carriage and extends you a hand, you are a Dayne. The purple dress acts a beacon, attracting the gaze of every servant in the vicinity. You stand tall, a star pendant hanging between your breasts.

You will enter decked on your colors. You will greet your future husband as you are, dressed in royal purple. Be a Dayne one last time, before war takes even that from you.

You breathe in and out, the polluted night sky so different from the beautiful stars in Dorne. This is it, you think, a chance to start over. To be whoever you wish to be. These people do not know what a dornishwoman should look like, or how she should behave. They do not know your hair is odd, and so are your eyes. They will only know what you want them to know.

“Go change, my sword. Your maids have selected a dress.” Qoren places his hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you towards the Red Keep. Your smile falls. For a second, you had thought you could attend the feast as you were, draped in your familiar purple and silver. “Make us all proud.”

You should have known better. But it is no matter now. A new life awaits you. Not even Qoren can sour your mood. You square your shoulders and smile.

So focused you are on your inner motivational speech, you do not notice the man watching you, his features covered by a black hood.

The day of your marriage, Daemon presents you with a beautiful pearl necklace. It is made of the purest pearls, with the biggest one you have ever seen right in the middle. It is bigger than the fingertip of your thumb, a perfect circle, roughly the size of a gold dragon.

“My cousin helped me commission this.” He says, during the wedding feast. He presents it to you in a small box, insides lined with velvet. As you reach for it, Daemon closes it, nearly catching your fingers with it. You laugh, startled. He grins at you. “Ah, I want to help you put it on.”

Your fingers fiddle with the simple silver chain you wear, star pendant hanging between your breasts. The hesitation must show on your face because Qoren, at your side, answers for you.

“She is honored, I am sure. Such a gorgeous jewel, to sit in the neck of the greatest beauty Dorne has to offer.”

You smile, trying not to let the sudden flare up of bad memories the words bring you. You remember a young girl, calling your hair ugly. Your grandmother’s face, sneering as you passed her in the hallways. Half-breed, she says, after having too much wine. Not quite right.

The subtle, more hidden, cruelties of girlhood that made your heart ache. When you did not make the list of the most beautiful girls some page was making. How much of a late bloomer you were, by dornish standards. How you had to wait so long for your first kiss, when it seemed like all the other girls were having them already.

Will this be all your life will ever be? Looking for the poison dripping from each word? Doubting every compliment?

You give Daemon what you hope is a seductive look, from beneath dark lashes. You are not good at seduction, having been an observer most of your life. But you are good at pretending.

It has worked, so far. Your arrival, on Qoren’s arm and with an honor guard fit for a Queen, had made people look at you differently. Men, specially, look at you as something exotic. They whisper about your Lyseni mother, and the tricks you must know how to perform. It fills you with dread because once again your looks set you apart, and you don’t quite feel like a person. You had hoped things would be different here.

And they are. Their attention is different, but it’s still wrong and you don’t quite believe them. They only want you because of the novelty, because of rumors about dornishwomen, about how your mother trapped your father. Not because you are beautiful or desirable. It’s sickening.

“Come, husband. Take my necklace off.” And Daemon obeys you, coming to stand behind you. Before he can begin to fumble with your hair, you reach for your hair on your own and lift it to expose your nape. You twist it into a pretend up do, holding it up with your hand.

The gesture is as languid as you can make it, highlighting the curve of your arm, and the elegance of your movements. The cold air hits your neck, making the hairs there stand up.

You both feel and hear Daemon’s sigh. He blows a soft puff of air against your hair, the noise very loud in the small table that seats only Qoren, Daemon, and you. The Queen has already retired, her sickly husband in tow. The Princess and her husband are dancing merrily between the tables.

When you had met Daemon, your first impression of him had been that he was very Valyrian looking and surprisingly whole for someone fresh out of war. And then, he had looked at Princess Rhaenyra and you had understood what Qoren meant when he said he liked his women fair.

Your stomach had turned, back then. Valyrian indeed. Rhaenyra was all milk white skin, light lashes and soft features. You couldn’t compete, you had thought. But then, you had noticed how his eyes followed little Laena Velaryon and you had known there was a chance for you to succeed too. It wasn’t skin color, but Valyrian heritage.

You have been trying to seduce him, with various degrees of success. The attention men pay you is helping you, and so are your purple eyes. You hope tonight goes well. You think you have just about enough Lyseni blood in you to keep him hooked.

His hands gently unclasp your pendant. He pockets it, you think. A memento or because he intends to give it back to you? You feel as his fingers whisper against your collarbones, and this time it’s you who sighs.

You are dramatic about it. Your lips part, as if about to be kissed. Your head tilts back.

“Beautiful.” Daemon whispers, in your ear. He kisses the shell of it.

“It is a gorgeous necklace.” You reply, feeling your face heating up. You feel drunk already, and you have not drank a single goblet of wine yet.

“No. You.” And the kiss against your ear becomes open-mouthed, his heavy breath filling your hearing. His hips brush against the backrest of the chair, searching for closeness. This is something that cannot be faked, you think. Not this kind of desire.

He wants you. He wants you, and you only wish to close your eyes and let him take you right here at this table. You are no blushing maiden, for sure, but you still are new to intimacy. Too many hang-ups about your body and not quite pleasing attempts have not contributed to building a vast knowledge of it. The fact that he wants you so badly makes you wild.

“I think that is my cue.” Qoren says, breaking you out of your stupor. He drains his cup, clearly in preparation for leaving. You had never felt such a connection with someone, not even in Dorne, where pleasure was loud and open. You press your hands to your face, ashamed of having forgotten he was there. Daemon simply chuckles.

“You don’t have…”

“Dearest sword.” He says, as he plants a kiss to your forehead. “You are as tempting as your husband is selfish. He doesn’t seem in the mood to share you.”

“I am not.” Daemon agrees, squeezing your shoulder. He exchanges a look with Qoren over your head. You can only see Qoren’s answering smirk.

“I think I should call for the mummers early.”

You and Daemon slip away as a company of puppet masters from Dorne make their grand entrance, throwing colorful powders in the air.

Later that night, as he sleeps in your shared rooms, you slip on a robe and stand in front of the mirror. Daemon has a massive one, right at the foot of the bed. Mirrors have always scared you, and sleeping so comfortably as he does with one reflecting him is unfathomable. You only intend to cover it.

Mirrors are supposed to be portals to other worlds, your mother used to say. The thought is stuck in your head, so you have grabbed a linen and are ready to place it over it when something catches your attention.

Your reflection. She is glowing, barefoot and in a simple robe, but still wearing the necklace your husband has given you. It should look gauche. It should look too much. But somehow, the necklace looks just right in your neck. You remember Daemon’s eyes, filled with desire when you had bared your neck to him. The sensual way he had touched you tonight, cradling you in his arms, rolling around in his bed. The necklace on the nightstand.

You look at the way the pearls light up your face. For the first time, you feel beautiful.

You make your first mistake a few days after.

It’s the first day of the week, and the Queen has asked you to have tea with her. You go, happily. After Qoren’s and the guards left, you began to feel lonely. There is not much to do here, either. Most of your usual entertainments are considered too sinful or crass. You can not even go for a walk around the city because they deem it too dangerous.

The meeting with the Queen is sour. She is trying, you can tell, but you still hear the disdain in her voice when she talks about your customs, or your people. She eyes the necklace you wear with distaste.

You get the feeling she buys the tales about you. That you are some dornish beauty, exotic and trained in the arts of seducing men. She comments on your mother, on her luck for marrying up, and you have to remember yourself to bite your tongue.

From what Daemon tells you, she is very lucky herself. Going from Lady to Queen is almost as impressive as going from merchant’s daughter to Lady, and you know which one of them did not need to spread her legs for it, and it’s not her. Not if you judge by her plain face.

You look at her, scandalized and pious as she is, ranting about acceptance of bastards of all things, and you surprise yourself at your own cruelty. You should not have thought that. But you are just so angry…

You take a deep breath and look away, trying to calm down. It is then you notice. In the door of the solar, standing to attention, is a man who looks like you.

He has inky dark hair, and olive skin. His eyes are dark, and he has a light stubble, probably because when you have hair as dark as he does, it is difficult to hide body hair. He wears armor and a white cloak. Kingsguard, you think. Why hasn’t anyone told you there was someone else from Dorne here, too? How could you not know?

Queen Alicent follows your eyes, suddenly noticing you are not paying attention. Your eyes are glued to the knight. She frowns in disapproval.

“That’s Ser Criston Cole. My sworn shield.” She stresses the word my. You grab your teacup and take a sip, to hide your smile. Is the pious Queen in love with her knight? “And a member of the Kingsguard.”

She is reminding you of his vow of celibacy. You almost laugh. If she wasn’t so repressed, she would realize she is the one who wants to jump his bones. The only interest you have in him is the fact that he might become a friend.

“Do your guards always stand inside your rooms?” You ask her, doing your best to sound puzzled. “The King’s guards stand outside his, and so does the sworn shield of the Princess.”

“…” Queen Alicent blushes, and averts her gaze. There are no further invitations to have tea with her.

You spend a lot of time staring at Ser Criston. He never returns your gaze. You seek him at mealtimes, you greet him in the corridors, but he always manages to evade you before you can properly start a conversation.

Daemon notices. He always does. He is finely attuned to you, his perfect wife. His prize after the war, his star. A study in contradictions, brazen and bold one moment, shy the next. He seems to like you even more for it. What he doesn’t seem to like is your sudden fixation on Criston Cole.

“You should stay away from him, star.” Daemon whispers, when he catches you staring at him once more. His voice sounds irritated. Accusing. As if you have done something wrong. It makes you bristle immediately.

“I am doing nothing wrong.”

“No one said you are. But Cole is….” Daemon shakes his head. “It is unwise. That’s all I mean to say.”

“What is unwise?” You scowl. You are glad that the table is long enough that no one else overhears you. Knowing Daemon, things are about to get nasty. He will throw in so many insults, Ser Criston would beat him into a pulp if he heard. No matter how competent your husband is, you still worry. “Trying to talk to him?”

“He is a cunt.” He says, cutting your meat for you as if you were a child. From your place in the dais, you seek him once more. Ser Criston is standing on the entrance of the hall, watching carefully as his Queen dines with the King and the two of you.

As if sensing your gaze, he looks towards you. Then, he quickly averts his eyes.

“I merely wish to speak with him.” You say. “He is like me. Dornish.”

“Ser Crispin will only disappoint you. Both in personality and in prowess.” Daemon warns. He pushes his goblet closer to you. “Here, try this. Arbor gold. How does it compare to the swill you like to drink?”

You take a sip of his goblet. You scrunch up your nose, The wine is cloyingly sweet, lacking the strong notes Dornish Reds always have.

“Ugh.” Your lips pucker up in disgust. Daemon laughs, and steals a kiss from you, licking into your mouth for good measure. But before you can begin to properly enjoy it, Queen Alicent coughs. You push Daemon away, even though you are doing nothing scandalous. “You taste like it too.”

“And you taste of that swill you dornish call wine. Yet, I am not complaining.” He takes a sip of his goblet.

“Are you jealous of him?” You ask, suddenly. You have heard about the rivalry between the two of them. Everyone knew of how Cole had obtained his position. He had been a simple knight, until Daemon had lost to him during a tourney. The act had caught Princess Rhaenyra’s attention, and secured him a white cloak. “Ser Criston?”

The thought of Daemon thinking you want to invite Cole to your bed is enough to amuse you. While in Dorne, paramours are more common than here, you are finding monogamy pleasant. You had never been much for sex without love, after all. Only one taste had been enough to satiate your curiosity.

“You shouldn’t toy with fire.” He growls, perhaps confusing your amusement with a deliberate attempt to tease him. It only makes your smile widen.

“Did you know…?” You begin, with an airy tone. Daemon sets down his cutlery. He turns to look at you, licking his lips. “My ancestor, Ser Joffrey Dayne, crossed paths with Queen Visenya. She burned Starfall, after he attacked Oldtown.”

“House Targaryen has always defended the Highcunts, it seems.” Daemon’s brows furrow together. It is no surprise he knows about it. One of the things that have bonded the two of you together is the fact that both of you are obsessed with family history. What he doesn’t know is why you are referencing it now.

You smile. One of your hands goes to toy with the necklace he has given you and that has become your constant accessory, bringing attention to your neck. It is a deliberate move. You intend to be ravished tonight

“I do not fear fire. We Daynes got Dawn from the heart of a falling star. “

Daemon kisses your temple.

“Oh? And I cannot wait to see you burn.” And he is pulling you to your feet, and you are slipping outside with a hurried curtsy.

Despite Daemon’s warnings, you still decide to approach Criston Cole. It takes you almost a week to build up the courage to do it, and another more to mention it to Daemon.

You do not want him to feel blindsided, so you include him in your planning. It is only when he shows up at the Sept that you realize Daemon intends to go with you.

Even the Septon pauses when he sees the two of you enter the Sept. Considering the court thinks you a temptress, and him a rogue, you are not surprised.

You are not particularly pious. While you had been educated on the Faith of the Seven, Dorne practiced a much diluted version. You had not attended a service in quite some time, but you try to focus on it to keep your nervousness at bay.

The plan is to intercept Ser Criston when the service ends. Daemon is under strict instruction to remain sitting, as to not unnerve the other man. But of course, things do not go according to plan.

As soon as the Septon gives his last blessing, you sprung up and step closer to the knight.

“Ser Criston, a word?” You ask him, your voice soft and nonthreatening. It is not as if you want to impose your presence on him, but you are unsure of why he flees rooms when he sees you. Perhaps he is shy, or perhaps you have offended him, but you will never know if he doesn’t speak to you.

“Do not talk to me!” He snarls, getting up from the bench. You try to reach for his arm, but Cole is quicker than you, grabbing your wrist tightly. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Daemon getting up from the bench where he was waiting for you.

“Ser… I only wished you to invite you to have tea with me.”

“I will not get into your bed, Lady Targaryen.” The man snarls at you. “Perhaps it is allowed in Dorne, but I assure you, here we do things differently than your people. Propositioning a man is…”

“I am not propositioning you!” You say, hotly. The words he is spewing at you leave you bewildered. You have never heard another dornishman speak so. “What do you even mean by that? Your people! You are dornish too.”

“I am not.” But before he can give you an explanation, Daemon is stepping in, and unsheathing his sword. He places his body between Ser Criston and you.

“I would suggest you unhand my wife.” His voice is cold. “Or you will lose the hand.”

“And you! You support her… Her… She should be sent back to Dorne, but she doesn’t even belong there, does she?” And Ser Criston stomps off, clearly unwilling to engage Daemon in what would probably end up as a fight to death.

Daemon looks willing to go after him, but you make a pitiful noise that is a cross between a sob and a whine. The rejection hurt more than usual, having grown unused to cruelness during your stay on King’s Landing. And the remark about you not belonging in Dorne?

It stung. You had not heard that insult in ages. It made you think of the serving girl, and your grandmother muttering you had bad hair, of your odd little features and strange coloring. Not quite Andal, not quite Rhoynar, not quite Lyseni.

Ser Criston looked like you. Of everyone, you would have expected him to understand. To see you.

You had only wanted a reminder of home. Careful with what you wish for, indeed. Your eyes feel suspiciously wet.

“Oh, that cunt. I’ll cut off his dick and feed him to Caraxes…” Daemon mutters, a thunderous look in his purple eyes. He then presses his forehead to yours, giving you an impish grin. “Not that it would be much food, would it? Like a worm, I bet.”

It makes you laugh, despite yourself.

“There you are.” Daemon smiles, brushing your tears away. “Come. I need you to see something.”

He takes your hand and leads you towards your shared rooms. You frown, slightly. Does he have some sort of present to give you? It’s unusual to be going there so early in the morning.

When Daemon opens the door, a maid is still sweeping the room. He barely spares her a glance, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. The girl looks disgruntled. You offer her a silver dragon for her troubles as she leaves, noticeably cheering her up.

The bed is freshly made, and the room smells of lavender. Outside the windows, the birds chirp. You see nothing unusual.

“What was I supposed to see? You interrupting the maid? Poor girl.” You mutter, kicking off your shoes. “Do try to make her life easier.”

But he doesn’t answer, choosing instead to pull out the chair in your vanity. It is a rarity, the whole set a gift from Qoren to furnish your new rooms. It has a beautiful mirror attached that reflects you from the waist up when you sit in front of it.

“Come.” Daemon says, simply. So you do. You know better by now than to disagree with him when he is in one of his moods.

You sit in the chair, dutifully. Your reflection looks a fright, so you try to avoid looking at yourself too much. He stands behind you, hands caressing your shoulders lighty, prompting you to look up.

“I have noticed.” Daemon starts, meeting your eyes in the mirror. “That you are always self-conscious when I look at you for too long. Or when I take your clothes off.”

You avert your eyes. It is true. You feel strange when Daemon looks at your body. The awe he holds in his gaze is both exciting and humbling. You never feel worthy of such worship.

“I would say we are past the maiden’s modesty.” He chuckles. “We made sure of that, didn’t we?”

“I…”

Daemon begins to unlace your gown. The presence of the mirror is making you self-conscious, so you reach for your bodice, and hold it up with one hand.

He pauses. He studies your expression, before dropping a kiss to your curls.

“Don’t cover yourself, wife. I love looking at you.”

You take a deep breath. You want to tell him the truth, for once. Daemon has started to suspect that despite how much you enjoy intercourse with him, something is wrong with your self-esteem. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have staged this intervention.

“I just don’t like how I look much.” You keep your voice low. Shame begins to freeze you up, making you tense and unable to speak. Your heart beats loudly in your ears.

“Madness.” Daemon laughs. He kisses you, slow and sweet. His lips move tenderly against yours, coaxing you out of your shell. You wonder how such an impatient man can have such infinite patience when it comes to you.

The thought makes you melt. Daemon smiles against your mouth and pulls back. He comes back to standing behind you.

“Look.” He orders. And you, helpless under his spell, cannot disobey.

You look at your reflection. Your hair is in even more disarray than before. Your lips are red and kiss swollen. And your eyes… You look dazed.

“We are just getting started.” Daemon promises, his hand coming to caress your collarbones. This time, when he pulls down the bodice, you do not fight it.

He kisses your head.

“You asked me once, if I was jealous.” You turn towards him, confused at the sudden change of topic. Daemon shushes you, squeezing the back of your neck as if you were a misbehaving pup. You look at yourself again, knowing there is no point in disobeying. Daemon always gets his way.

“I am jealous.” His voice is firm. He leans in, and kisses the top of your hair. His talented, skilled hands, take the pins off from it, so it frames your face once more. You fight the urge to fix it, to give more volume to your roots. You don’t like how limp it falls sometimes. Daemon presses a kiss to your earlobe, and whispers. “Of the very breeze against your hair.

Your eyes widen. You do not dare take them away from the mirror. On it, you watch as he presses a kiss behind your ear, as he mouths at your neck, just barely reaching the necklace that sits there.

“Of the pearls you wear, for holding on to your neck. “ You feel his words against your skin, making you shiver. He wraps it around one of his fingers, the pearls tensing just so to feel more restrictive against your neck.

Your lips part in a sigh. The tension of the pearls makes you think of a collar, and his deft handling of them a leash. Ownership.

“Sometimes, when I see you around court, I imagine this.” He tugs the pearls upwards, placing them between your lips. You watch, in a daze, as your reflection parts her lips more, welcoming him in.

He places the biggest pearl between your teeth. You find yourself mesmerized by this stranger you are watching, being turned into an artwork in front of your very eyes.

“You are exquisite.” Daemon gives the pearls a tug, pulling them slightly up. They catch on your hair, contrasting beautifully with the dark curls. There is something haunting about the image, something that tugs at you and makes you see yourself from his eyes.

Like this, with him calling you exquisite, pearls adorning your face and hair, you can almost believe it.

“Do you know what I think of more, when I see these pearls?” Daemon chuckles. It’s a dark, masculine sound. You are unable to form a word. “Hm. Perhaps I should show you.”

He finishes pulling the necklace from you. Over your head and out they go. Suddenly able to speak, you find yourself at a loss for words.

Daemon kneels behind you. He meets your eyes in the mirror, again.

“I am jealous of the moon, and the sky, and this damn mirror even.” It sounds like nonsense. It should sound like nonsense, but somehow, it is disarming, this newfound honesty of his. The one where he stumbles over words in his eagerness, in his need to call you beautiful, to call you his. “Because you want to gaze at them. Your eyes should be only for me.”

He cradles your face in his palm, forcing you to keep eye contact with your reflection. His thumb brushes over your lips. You just stare.

“And even of the wine you drink, when you wet your lips.”

You kiss his thumb. Your eyes sting. This is quickly turning unbearable.

“Daemon… Please…”

“Oh, but your eyes.” He praises, sounding almost drunk. He begins to kiss a path down your collarbones and towards your breasts. “I love your eyes. They are maddening to me.”

He continues to kiss your skin, inhaling deeply. The closer he gets to your breasts, the hungrier he becomes. Daemon is gorging himself on you, biting and nipping at your bosom, sucking at your nipples until you cannot help the moans coming out from your mouth.

Liquid, molten pleasure, begins accumulating at the base of your spine. Warming up your body, making you sweat with the exertion of keeping still.

“You are so beautiful, I fear anyone will want to steal you away.” Daemon whispers, grabbing your hips in an almost bruising grip. “And I fear if I don’t hold tight, it will be my fault.”

You look at yourself. At the half lidded eyes, the softness of your chest. At the attitude of surrender, as your thighs part, and you feel him bury his nose on the roses of your mound. As he inhales, trying to memorize your touch, your smell, your sounds. As he decides to drink from you, making your face go slack, brows pinched together, eyes glassy and absent.

Beautiful, you think, as you reach your peak with a scream so loud you fear the rest of the Red Keep might have heard.

Daemon laughs, doing his best attempt to suck a bruise on your thigh.

“And you haven’t even seen what I plan on doing with the pearls.”

I hope every single person who puts nice comments in tags under reblogged art knows that you you guys are the backbone of society. Being an artist online sucks these days, but here on tumblr I still get compliments under artworks that I made years ago. I hope you know every WOW and heart emoji and heartfelt compliment and funny comment you left in the tags is part of the reason I kept drawing all these years, in spite of everything that was going on.

I've been screenshotting the nice tags I get for years, and at this point it would be literal thousands of lines if I still had my old files. I love u tumblr users <333333333

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

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

word count: 24.9k words

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

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

skzms masterlist // ko-fi

Changbin thinks he might be the stupidest motherfucker alive.

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

And in his defence, how should he have known.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You … what?” he asks, dumbly.

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

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

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

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

You blink at him, laugh awkwardly.

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

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

Oh, good. You have common interests.

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

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

Stupid fucking suave, charming, fucking PERFECT Hwang Hyunjin.

“Ha, that sounds fun.”

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

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

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

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

He shrugs.

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

Why the fuck would you say that, Seo Changbin.

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

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

Changbin forces a smile onto his face.

“You did.”

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

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

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

Changbin swears his eye twitches.

“He’s alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Changbin swallows down a hysterical scream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s Y/N? Is everything okay?”

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

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

Chan freezes, blinks at him once, twice.

“Uhh … she is?”

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

“Like … like a date?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Changbin shrugs.

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

You give him an adorable, playful smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You want this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But …

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next time?

He wants to slap himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I, pretty? Can I touch you?”

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

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

It’s all he needs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yo, is the coffee machine still on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chan nods.

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

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

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

Chan nods and pulls out his phone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s a knock on the door.

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

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

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

Changbin sighs, puts his phone back down.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

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

Changbin’s a fucking mess.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, drop it.”

Felix deflates and Changbin feels even worse.

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

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

Changbin knows that he won’t. He can’t even begin to think of confessing all of this to Chan, how could he unload it onto Felix, his most precious dongsaeng. But he knows Felix will feel better if he agrees. So he lies.

“I will, thank you, Yongbok-ah.”

When Changbin’s phone buzzes on the mixing desk next to Chan at 1am on Friday night, 12 hours out from when he presumes your date with Hyunjin is, Changbin doesn’t even bother to check it.

But Chan glances over and picks it up.

“Y/N’s texting,” he says, casually, and hands Changbin his phone, like Changbin’s heart didn’t just fall into his ass.

If he was alone, Changbin doesn’t know if he would’ve checked it. But Chan is right there, and he doesn’t have the strength to make up an excuse for why he would be ignoring a text from his best friend. So he unlocks his phone.

from: Y/Nie hey hey Y/Nie is typing….

“Do you think we should keep Seungmin’s first or second take?” Chan asks. Changbin blinks at him and Chan presses play, brows furrowed, eyes glued to the screen.

They sound identical.

“I think the first one’s better, right?” Chan muses, and Changbin’s phone buzzes in his hands.

“Yeah, totally,” he mumbles, and whips his head back down. You texted again. His heartbeat picks up.

from: Y/Nie sorry for the radio silence 😅 kinda had to convince myself you didn’t hate me because you didn’t text me either but then I realised that that is hypocritical of me so here I am … please don’t hate me

Butterflies. A swarm of them. Something warm, dripping down Changbin’s spine. Regret, still, too much of it to put into words, but mostly … relief.

As quickly as he can, he replies.

from: me of course, I don’t hate you I could never

He tries to calm down, tells himself not to be too honest. Not when the situation is so fragile. Not over text.

from: Y/Nie THANK GOD

The message makes him huff out a laugh, and Chan looks over and gives him a little smile. Changbin blushes.

The dots, the little Y/Nie is typing…. text blinks in and out of existence for a solid minute before your next message pops up.

from: Y/Nie because I kinda really missed you

Changbin takes a deep, steadying breath.

I missed you, too is what he wants to say. I missed you, too, I always do. I wish it hadn’t ended the way it did. I wish I could stop loving you, but I can’t. But I want you in my life in whatever form I can.

from: me I missed you, too I think chan is sick of me actually being at the studio instead of disappearing at some point and leaving him to do his work

Changbin looks up. Chan is humming under his breath, completely relaxed, editing a midi track, his knee bouncing under the table. Sorry, Chan

from: Y/Nie well, we can’t have that! chan needs to write the next big stray kids hit, we can’t have you distract him like that!

from: me yah! you say you missed me and the first thing you do is bully me

from: Y/Nie gotta keep you humble ;)

Changbin sighs. He knows this probably isn’t a solution, pretending like it never happened, just going back to how things were before. But it feels so good. And everything … it’s too big, it’s too much. And if this is the only way your friendship will survive, then he’ll take it. He’ll take whatever you give him.

It’s silent for a few seconds and Changbin wonders if that’s it, but then you text one last time.

from: Y/Nie I gotta sleep now but let’s get lunch next week?

from: me I’d love that night, y/nie

from: Y/Nie night, bin <3

It’s the heart that sustains him, makes him breathe easier for the next half hour and all the way home and into bed. He falls asleep easily for the first time in days, sleeps a dreamless, restful sleep until he wakes up to the sun peeking in through the blinds, the warm sheets – and Hyunjin yelling at Jisung to get out of the bathroom.

The realisation crashes over him without mercy.

Hyunjin is getting ready. To go out. With you.

Dread collects and settles thickly into his bones, makes him bury himself further under the sheets as he fishes for his phone and opens his chat with Chan.

from: me yo what are you doing today? wanna hit the gym and write some music?

He places his phone down on the mattress, and he waits. Listens to the sounds of the traffic outside, of the dorm slowly waking up; hears Jisung screech, then Hyunjin yell something, before a door slams.

His phone buzzes.

from: cb97 sorry, man, already at the gym now having lunch with young-hyun later probably won’t make it to the studio at all today

Changbin buries his face in his pillow and sighs. Hyunjin’s cackle sifts through the cracks in the door.

He can’t stay here. He can’t witness Hyunjin getting all dolled up, wearing some cute outfit, bouncing out of the front door on his merry way to a date that might as well seal Changbin’s fate. No, he needs to figure something out, he needs to go.

So he texts the only other person he knows would willingly spend a Saturday buried in a dark, lightless studio.

from: me yah jisung-ah what are you doing today

If he mentally says a prayer as he waits for his answer, that’s between him and his pillow.

Jisung, predictably, texts back almost immediately.

from: j.one morning hyung~~ probably gonna to the company work on some songs why?

from: me need any help? or want some company? I need to get out of the house today

There’s silence for a minute, and even Jisung’s and Hyunjin’s bickering has gone silent. Changbin tries not to let his paranoia get the best of him. Hyunjin’s getting ready. Jisung is probably just on his phone on his bed. Or texting Minho.

It takes a few minutes before Jisung finally responds.

from: j.one sure! I actually got this rap I would love to get your input on

from: me cool leave in an hour?

from: j.one 👍

And it’s so quiet that Changbin really, really thought he could get away with it. That he could leave the dorm, with Jisung, without bumping into Hyunjin but, of course, he couldn’t.

He opens his door, takes one step, and collides with Hyunjin’s shoulder.

The impact isn’t strong, only enough to send Changbin reeling back a few steps, his backpack dropping from his hand and onto the floor, but that’s not what slams the breath out of his chest.

It’s Hyunjin’s perfume, the one he only wears for special occasions, thick and floral and, at the same time, somehow manly, laced with the smell of his shampoo and his hair, curling into Changbin’s nose and making his mouth water. And it only gets worse when he looks up and meets Hyunjin’s eyes. He’s always been a master at dramatising himself. Unlike Changbin, who’s always just the same, just … Changbin, Hyunjin knows exactly how to dress himself to look the perfect level of casual, yet fuckable. His long black hair is a little wavy, casual and he’s wearing make-up. Not a lot, for their standards, but just a bit. Just enough. Foundation, a light shade of brown around his eyes that renders them big and soft, soft pink lip balm on his full lips that makes them look obscenely kissable. If Changbin wasn’t already terminally, irrevocably in love with him, he’s sure he would fall in love with him then. He swallows bitterly when he realises that that’s probably actually exactly what Hyunjin is going for. With you.

Hyunjin’s dressed simply, but clearly with intent. Blue jeans, a white t-shirt, that’s just tight enough to sit snugly over his shoulders and his biceps and his … Changbin swallows … his pecs, and …

“Are those Jisung’s shoes?”

The words tumble from his mouth before he can stop them. The first words he and Hyunjin have exchanged in three days, and he’s asking about Jisung’s shoes?!

Hyunjin falters for a second, clearly stupefied by Changbin’s question. He nods slowly.

Changbin just nods back, barely manages to look Hyunjin in the eyes.

They didn’t get dressed together. Jisung knows nothing. I’m being paranoid. I’m being paranoid. Changbin, you’re being paranoid!!!!!!

Changbin must really be losing it because Hyunjin’s brows pull together in a grimace of concern that somehow makes him look even more like an angel.

“Hyung, are you okay?”

He sounds like he cares so much. Changbin wants to laugh. Or cry. Or both at the same time.

“I’m fine, Hyunjin-ah,” he forces out, forces a smile as he bends down and picks up his backpack.

“Are you sure?” Hyunjin adds, almost too fast. He sucks his bottom lip, starts gnawing at it. He looks like wants to say something else, but Changbin doesn’t let him. He can’t. Who knows what this conversation could turn into. Hyunjin needs to go meet you and Changbin needs to go to the studio with Jisung. It’s better this way.

“Don’t worry about me,” he chirps, so fake it makes his teeth ache with it, and pushes past Hyunjin as fast as he possibly can. He ignores the new wave of Hyunjin’s perfume that slams into him as he makes his way to the kitchen, where, thankfully, he finds Jisung already waiting.

Jisung’s head whips up when Changbin barges in, and they only widen more when Changbin beams at him and waves him towards the door.

“Let’s go, Jisung-ah!” he exclaims, much too loudly, and turns around before he can see Jisung throw a glance towards the hallway he just came from or look at him with any more of the surprise or the concern that makes Changbin’s stomach turn.

Thankfully, Jisung follows him, doesn’t ask any questions. Only falls into step with Changbin and when Changbin asks, talks about the song he wanted help with. Jisung had always been his favourite dongsaeng.

Changbin manages not to think about you and Hyunjin for most of the day. But what he does think about, a lot, is the moment he would have to face Hyunjin. By the time he drifts off to sleep he’s sure he’s imagined all the worst possible outcomes, Hyunjin stumbling in late at night only half dressed, Hyunjin walking into the kitchen the next morning with hickeys on his neck, Hyunjin with literal hearts floating around his head for all Changbin knows – but none of that happens.

He meets Hyunjin the next day in the kitchen when he goes to get a snack. Hyunjin, dressed in his ratty old sweatpants and his hair tied up haphazardly, is filling the little transparent cup Changbin knows he uses for painting with water by the sink, looks just like he always does. He turns around, sees Changbin, and smiles. A little sheepish, a little awkward, maybe, but he smiles. And Changbin does what he does best. He takes the excuse to delude himself, and he runs with it.

On Monday, they have a schedule. Hyunjin picks the make-up chair next to him. They don’t talk much, but Hyunjin knocks his foot against his and shows him a meme of a little piglet and a bunny being friends about halfway through, a devastatingly pretty smile on his lips. Changbin smiles back.

On Tuesday, Changbin meets you for lunch at your company. You hug him hello, wrap your hand around his arm so you don’t lose him as you pull him through the packed cafeteria. You pick out his favourite melon soda from the refrigerator without him having to ask. You chatter about this album you’re working on, about your parents coming to visit in a couple weeks. You don’t talk about Hyunjin. When you smile at him and sneak half of your helping of chicken onto his plate in exchange for one of his mushrooms, he can’t bring himself to ask. He hugs you goodbye.

On Wednesday, he stays late at the studio with Chan and Jisung. They get into a flow, manage to finish the demos for two songs. Write another, late at night, delirious off sugar and lack of sleep, one that will probably never see the light of day. He loves them. He comes home smiling, waves them off down the hallway to their rooms before he gets himself a bottle of water from the fridge. He takes a little detour past Hyunjin’s room almost automatically. His door is ajar, the light on, but he can hear Hyunjin snore quietly. He creeps in, tiptoes over to the bedside table, where the light is still on, throwing a hazy warm glow over Hyunjin’s sleeping form. Glossy lips parted, eyebrows slightly drawn up, almost like he’s surprised, his hair messily fanned over the pillow half his face is smushed into, he’s the most beautiful thing Changbin has ever seen. He indulges himself, brushes a few of his strands out of his eyes, lets his fingertip drag over the curve of his cheek, before he switches off the lamp and leaves, closing the door behind him.

On Thursday, he catches Hyunjin giggling at his phone, but he’s already convinced himself that the date on Saturday was most likely a dud. Maybe not even bad, just … not as exciting as you’d hoped. Maybe you’d met and the spark you’d both felt wasn’t there. Maybe you said something about the art that gave Hyunjin the ick. Maybe his dreaminess was too much for your pragmatic nature.

Because if it had been any other way, Hyunjin wouldn’t have just gone back to normal, right? Back to leaning against Changbin in the elevator and giggling with him in the kitchen. And you, you would’ve brought it up, right? That first day at lunch, or the countless times you texted after that. Right?

If Hyunjin and you had had a good date, if you’d kissed (a notion Changbin can’t entertain for too long because the mere idea of it makes him dizzy with a lot of confusing feelings that he refuses to decode right now) or if you’d agreed on a second date, if you were still talking, he wouldn’t be here right now, two weeks later, sitting on your sofa at some ungodly hour, ripped from the studio, from Chan who watched him go with a knowing, unsurprised grin, the remnants of delivery tteokbokki and dumplings still on the table and some random drama on the TV.

Your body wouldn’t have been slowly drifting towards his over the last hour, you wouldn’t have slung your leg over his, you … you wouldn’t have fallen asleep snuggled into his shoulder the way you did. Breathing softly, fingers twitching where they were still holding on to him.

And when he carried your half awake form to your bedroom later, tucked you into bed, you wouldn’t have leaned up, murmured his name, wouldn’t have pulled him into the softest, gentlest, kiss, just the pressure of your soft lips against his …

Right?

Except you would, apparently.

Changbin wasn’t meant to go to the company the next day. He was meant to have a day off, and he didn’t mean to work, he just wanted to get his laptop because he forgot it the night before because he was so eager to get out of there to get to yours–

Changbin wasn’t meant to be here.

He wasn’t meant to round a corner and see Hyunjin, standing between your legs where you’re sitting on the shoe storage outside the dance practice room, one hand caressing the skin of your back under your shirt, the other pulling your hips closer against his, as if your legs aren’t wrapped around him. He’s not meant to see you, tonguing into Hyunjin’s open mouth, the lips that were pressed against his not even 12 hours before pulled into a delirious smile as you devour each other.

Nausea rises in Changbin’s throat when Hyunjin giggles, when you bring your hand to gently cup his face. It’s so intimate. It doesn’t take a genius to see that this isn’t the first time you’re kissing either. Changbin’s stomach turns.

He turns on his heels, makes sure not to make a sound until he rounds the corner again, and then he runs.

He makes it into one of the studios before the first tears fall.

Fuck, this hurts worse than he thought it would.

Oh, he’s so fucking stupid.

Fuck, it hurts.

Now that he’s thinking about it, really thinking about it, there had never been any indication that you stopped talking after your date. Hyunjin had gone back to normal, and so did you because … he slams his fist against the side of his head so hard that it aches. He’s so fucking stupid. Of course, you went back to normal – because that’s all you were. Friends. You and him. Hyunjin and him. Friends.

But now that he’s seen it, he can’t stop thinking about it. Your date went well. You met Hyunjin at the museum, probably looked at his stupid casual outfit that showed off his stupidly attractive body, and you had probably worn something equally casual but flattering because you, too, were good at that. And then the two of you had probably walked through the museum and talked about art and life and the human condition, with sparkling eyes, maybe your hands had brushed, maybe Hyunjin had booked the museum for after-hours so you could have it to yourself, and maybe he kissed you in front of some painting and …

His stomach feels like it’s filled with lead.

He wonders if Yongbok knows. If Hyunjin came back from his date and told Jisung and Chan.

Why hadn’t he told him?! A part of him knows, it’s because he heard you and Changbin and … maybe he felt it even before then, Changbin’s resistance to the idea of them dating. Of course, he would. Hyunjin probably knew how fucking pathetically in love Changbin was with you and probably knew that you weren’t and …

But then why did he even date you? What happened to bros before hoes? I mean he saw the sparks, he saw the glint in Hyunjin’s eyes, the smile on your face but … was it worth it to Hyunjin? Was the connection that strong?

Also … why did you kiss him last night? He knows you were sleepy, but not that sleepy, right? And you weren’t aiming for his cheek, there was no way …

Changbin’s head hurts. And so does his heart. He still doesn’t have his laptop, because he would have to walk back and past where he saw you to get it, but it’s not like it matters anyway. And he wonders how on earth he’s going to navigate this new reality.

The reality where you and Hyunjin are … well, whatever you are. His heart cracks a little in his chest when he thinks the words.

In love.

“Right,” the staff member who’s always in charge of their SKZ Code episodes says and claps her hands. She looks oddly excited. “For today, you are going to pretend to be doctors. Surgeons, nurses, whatever, get funny with it!”

She grins, takes a look at the eight boys all lined up in front of her in fake scrubs and white jeans and lab coats.

Changbin feels stupid.

He’s also in a bad mood, which doesn’t help, but the outfit makes him feel stupid. Where there was sadness, there is a slowly simmering, building rage now. Changbin’s been watching it build slowly, watching his resentment thicken, his mood sour, and he hasn’t even bothered to try to cool himself off, because what’s his other option? Going back to heartbreak? No, he’d rather be angry. At himself sometimes, but also at Hyunjin, at you, pretending everything is fine — at being forced to watch Hyunjin giggle, bite his lip at his phone at least once a day. Sometimes he even nudges Yongbok, tilts his screen, points at something and whispers and Yongbok wiggles his eyebrow. And it’s not like Changbin would’ve talked to Yongbok, even though he offered, but the idea that that option was taken from him? It also pisses him off. So Hyunjin doesn’t just get you, he also gets Felix, huh? What does Changbin get? He gets fucking nothing.

He’s still brooding as the staff sorts them into groups, chatters to them, about the games they’ll play.

“The first group is Changbin, Chan, Hyunjin and Jeongin, the other Jisung, Minho, Seungmin and Yongbok,” she announces, pointing to the two tables set-up between them, “go to your team and pick what kind of doctors you want to be. That’ll be your team name.”

Chan shimmies over to him with a blinding smile, throws an arm around him and coos his name, his usual affection, just a little bit ramped up for the cameras – and trying to lift Changbin’s mood, because of course Chan knows.

“Binniiiiie,” Chan coos with a giggle, “we’ll be in a team. What kind of doctors should we be? Brain surgeons?”

Jeongin scoffs as he makes his way to Changbin’s other side. “We’re so not smart enough for that.”

Hyunjin is the last to find his way to them and Changbin tries not to look, but of course, he does. Hyunjin looks between Changbin and Chan and Jeongin, and Changbin does his best to tell himself that what he sees in his eyes isn’t disappointment.

Hyunjin makes his way over to them, a too bright smile plastered on his face.

“We could be doctors for like muscles and stuff, because we dance so much,” Jeongin muses, half distracted by Seungmin making faces at him across the room.

Hyunjin chuckles, tips how head to the side, makes eye contact with Changbin.

“Or we could be heart doctors?” he singsongs, making Chan chuckle into Changbin’s ear.

Changbin blinks. He can’t be serious …

“Ooh, Hyunjinnie, you want to be a love doctor?” Chan coos.

Hyunjin just giggles, his eyes crinkling at the edges.

Changbin stays quiet. Usually, he would’ve taken the opportunity. Would have walked right over there with a dramatic sigh of Hyunjin’s name, mumbling something about him not needing a love doctor when Changbin was right there, to take care of his heart, or some bullshit. But he doesn’t. He stubbornly crosses his arms and stares at the wall.

Jeongin next to them is oblivious.

“I like it, very macho,” he chuckles, and so it’s decided.

Chan announces the team name once the staff asks, Seungmin does his usual MC duties and they play. Rock paper scissors to decide the order. A spelling game.

Changbin knows he’s quiet, but he hopes it’s not too noticeable. Or at least Stay can forgive him just this once when the episode comes out. Because he’s trying his best to stay as far away from Hyunjin as possible, and it’s equally difficult as it is heartbreaking. Because Changbin misses his best friend.

Hyunjin cackles about something Jeongin said, and throws his arm around him. And Changbin aches. He feels like he’ll never stop aching.

“Next,” Seungmin monotones, “we’re going to be diagnosing each other as — each other!”

Everyone dutifully makes confused noises. Seungmin continues.

“One member will put on a blindfold and sit in front of the cameras, and another member will be chosen to use this microphone, which distorts your voice, to give the member in front of the camera a compliment – but not as themselves, but a compliment that someone else would make.”

Oohs and aahs.

“So if it was my turn to sit there, and Jisung’s to do the compliment, and his task was to pretend to be Minho complimenting me, he would probably just go ‘good dog’.”

Jisung and everyone else laughs, and Seungmin smiles at Minho’s offended noise. And Changbin thinks this is a safe game.

Except it’s not. Of course, it isn’t.

It’s all fun and games. They have a good time, make some jokes that will surely have to be cut out, especially when it’s Jisung’s turn and Jeongin makes an obscene sound instead of a compliment Minho would make, but there’s also lots of squabbling that he knows Stay will love. But then it’s Hyunjin’s turn.

Changbin watches him sit, slide the blindfold over his silky hair, a motion that would make Changbin dizzy on a normal day. But then Felix gets shown which member he’s meant to imitate, and it’s Changbin.

“Yaaah, Hyunjin-aaah,” Yongbok scream-whispers into the microphone, to the great amusement of everyone else. “When will you finally stop playing hard to get and be my boyfriend, Hyunjin-ah? You’re so beautiful! You’re an angel! You’re the most exquisite being God has ever created …”

Jisung slaps Yongbok’s arm and Yongbok breaks out into a slew of giggles.

Everyone’s laughing. Hyunjin’s ears are bright red. Changbin feels like he’s about to cry.

He’s always been pathetic, huh, he realises. He never cared if he looked a little silly, especially because Hyunjin loved it. But now, hearing Yongbok make a joke of it, seeing everyone else cackle and throw him looks, Changbin realises he’s been making a fucking fool out of himself. His eyes burn hotter than his cheeks do. He wants to fucking die.

“Ah,” Hyunjin chuckles awkwardly. Oddly enough, he doesn’t sound like he finds it funny either. “Changbin-hyung.”

Not a question, no surprise when everyone cheers and tells him he’s right.

Hyunjin removes the blindfold with a crooked smile, and when he turns, his eyes immediately fall on Changbin. His smile falls slightly. He gets up and walks back over to them and this time, Changbin’s side is exposed, so he slots himself right in. He slings an arm around his shoulders and Changbin gets a whiff of his shampoo and Changbin …

Changbin shrugs Hyunjin’s arm off his shoulders and steps away from him in one quick motion, and everyone falls silent. Changbin can’t bear to look at Hyunjin, but based on Yongbok’s expression, Hyunjin must be upset. Changbin swallows the guilt, lets it get swallowed up by the pool of resentment bubbling inside of him. Serves him right.

Minho puts them back on track quickly, steps forward to take his place, and everyone starts babbling, recovering quickly, practised, bouncing back to their camera personas, but Changbin tunes out. Yongbok’s distorted voice keeps repeating the words over and over again in his head until Changbin feels like nothing but a cheap distortion of himself.

The last game, or rather, the last thing they film, because the segment where they have lunch mercifully was filmed when they were actually having lunch today instead of at 4pm, is a dance challenge, but with a twist. They have to spontaneously dance to whatever songs come on, their own choreographies from over the years, but with another member and a balloon lodged between the two of them. And Changbin prays, tries to catch Chan’s eyes, or Jeongin’s, but the way they’re standing, they already paired up, and the only other person left on their team is …

“Hyung, we’ll kill it,” Hyunjin chirps as he walks over to him, balloon in hand. “Remember when we did this last time, and you turned to me. Our height difference was actually helpful. I think we’ve got this one in the bag.”

Hyunjin is avoiding his eyes, chattering on, an anxious smile on his lips, and Changbin just hums. Any energy he might have had to fight the tightness in his chest is slowly draining out of him.

Hyunjin places the balloon against his own chest, steps forward and, once it’s securely held up between their bodies, drapes his arms over Changbin’s shoulders. From this position, Changbin doesn’t have a choice but look at Hyunjin.

His heart fucking aches when he does. He’s pretty, as always. No, gorgeous. Subtle make-up, hair purposely fluffy and messy, of course, but what really gets Changbin every time are his eyes. They’re big, warm, they feel like home. Especially when they’re pulling into little crescents when he smiles. Like he is right now. Smiling at him with more warmth than Changbin has felt in such a long time.

“Hi hyung,” he hums, a teasing lilt to his voice. Changbin swallows down the urge to glare at him. “Fancy seeing you here. Come here often?”

Changbin swears his eye nearly starts twitching. Hyunjin’s breath puffs against his face.

“Ha,” he huffs out, but it lacks all humour. “Very funny, Hyunjin-ah.”

Hyunjin doesn’t seem to get the memo. But then S-Class blasts through the shitty little speakers the staff brought and Changbin’s body automatically responds with the dance, and so does Hyunjin’s.

But he’s grateful that, as he goes through the motions, he has an excuse to stare at the stupid blue balloon between them. Though the song ends before long, Jisung and Seungmin unsurprisingly already eliminated.

“Hyung,” Hyunjin mumbles, and Changbin makes the mistake of looking up. Hyunjin’s face is so close, Changbin can make out each individual eyelash framing his eyes.

The notes of Silent Cry slice through the room and Changbin momentarily forgets to be mad as he tries to remember the choreography – and promptly all thoughts leave his mind when Hyunjin swivels his hips and brushes his thigh against Changbin’s and Changbin swears he did it on purpose. When he looks up and meets Hyunjin’s eyes, Hyunjin is already staring at him.

Their balloon nearly drops with how fast Changbin tries to put distance between them. He tries to think of something unsexy, grandmas and dogshit, you and Hyunjin making out and probably doing a lot more than just grinding on each other, but that does shockingly little. Quite the opposite.

Thankfully, the song ends, but because nobody was eliminated, staff plays the next one right after. Maniac, now, and if Changbin’s heart didn’t feel like it was about to shatter and his dick didn’t feel like it was about to chub up embarrassingly fast, he would’ve laughed at how stupid it looked, everyone trying to do a half-assed twirl with the balloon between them. Somehow, he and Hyunjin make it, though, a little twirl, then hand to forehead. Hyunjin’s intense stare catches on Changbin’s, and he winks, lets his tongue slide over his bottom lip. Changbin almost moans.

The song ends, the game is over, everyone else is slowly peeling apart, but Hyunjin isn’t going anywhere. His arms fall back over Changbin’s shoulders, he tips his head to the side and stares at Changbin, eyes dipping down to his lips so quickly, Changbin thinks he might have made it up. And then Changbin feels his fingers at the nape of his neck, scratching up his scalp, and something in Changbin’s stomach turns.

He steps back so abruptly, Hyunjin’s arms and the balloon fall to the ground. The balloon pops, making everyone jump and stare over at them, but Changbin is beyond caring.

“We’re done, right?” he asks the staff, and stares them down until they nod apprehensively. He doesn’t know how manic he looks, he needs to get the fuck out of here.

He makes it out of the main room, back into the hallway that leads to their haphazardly thrown together dressing room, but he doesn’t get far before he hears steps behind him.

“Changbin,” Hyunjin’s voice echoes through the room and Changbin stops as if rooted to the spot, for one second, before he turns around and stalks towards Hyunjin, who stares at him.

“What the fuck?!”

It’s the only thing Changbin manages to say, his mind a mess, the resentment threatening to bubble up and over.

“Why the fuck would you … what the fuck was that?!”

It’s barely more coherent, so it’s no wonder Hyunjin just stares at him, mouth agape, eyes wide. Not understanding.

“Why were you … I wasn’t flirting with you?!” Changbin yells, “why were you … that’s not … why the fuck would you do this now?!”

Hyunjin shakes his head, takes another few steps toward Changbin, his arms stretched in front of him in an expression of utter disbelief.

“What?! I … I don’t get! I thought you wanted everything to go back to the way it was!? I was just trying to do what seemed to make you most comfortable!” Hyunjin yells, and Changbin shudders with frustration.

“Now you’re just being fucking cruel, Hyunjin,” he hisses, and Hyunjin’s big eyes turn narrow.

In two steps, Hyunjin is right in front of him, staring at him from where he’s towering over Changbin.

“Cruel? I’m being cruel? You’ve been flirting with me for years, off camera, on camera, and you waved it off every single time, and now I’m asking you to stop with the games and put your money where your mouth is before it’s too late, and I’m being cruel?” Before it’s too late?

Hyunjin takes a step forward, invades Changbin’s space and Changbin stumbles backwards into the wall with a thud.

“Fuck you, Hyunjin. I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s not cool,” he manages to hiss out, but Hyunjin just shakes his head. His eyes are glued to Changbin’s lips.

“If you would just let me explain …,” he mumbles, and then Hyunjin is kissing him.

Kissing Hwang Hyunjin is everything Changbin ever thought it would be and so much more. He’s overwhelming, crowding him against the wall, his hand strong where it’s resting against the nape of his neck. He also smells incredible, his pomegranate chapstick smearing against Changbin’s lips in a kiss that is equal parts elegance and raw, desperate want.

Hyunjin presses Changbin into the wall harder, towering over him, and Changbin moans, his hands back on Hyunjin’s waist, trying to pull him closer, kiss him deeper, get more, and Hyunjin sighs into the kiss, links his fingers with Changbin’s and presses it over his chest and …

Reality catches up to Changbin all at once and his eyes shoot open and he pushes Hyunjin away so hard, Hyunjin nearly slams into the wall opposite.

“Don’t … What?!” he gasps out, wipes his mouth with the back of his mind, staring at Hyunjin. He’s so fucking gorgeous like this, all flushed and wide-eyed and– 

Oh fuck.

“What the fuck, Hyunjin?!” Changbin yells, before he can think better of it. Hyunjin stumbles further back, but he opens his mouth. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid?! That I don’t know you and Y/N are seeing each other?!”

“No, Binnie, …” Hyunjin tries to say but Changbin can’t … He can’t believe Hyunjin would do this.

Hyunjin raises his hands, eyes big and entreating, and tries to take a step towards him, but Changbin stumbles backwards. It’s no longer resentment he feels, now it’s just … anger. Disgust.

“So what, are you cheating on her?! Are you trying to prove something? What the fuck?!”

“Changbin,” Hyunjin says again, but Changbin just shakes his head. Slowly, he starts walking backwards, away from Hyunjin, because he doesn’t trust himself right now.

“She deserves better than that, Hyunjin. And I deserve better, too, than to be used like this. You can find someone else to fuck with.”

“I swear, Binnie, please …”

“Don’t get fucking near me, Hyunjin. I don’t want to see your face any more,” Changbin spits, and the venom of his words feel like daggers in his own chest.

He turns, walks down the hallway as fast as he can. This time, there are no footsteps following him.

Somehow, he manages to make it through the process of undressing, of filing into the cars, without crying.

Changbin barely looks at Hyunjin, the handful of glances nearly enough to make him break down, right there, in the middle of some random shoot location. Hyunjin looks about three seconds away from crying, but he won’t stop staring at Changbin. Changbin can feel his eyes, boring into the back of his head, like he’s taunting him. He can’t get the taste of him, the feeling of him so close, out of his goddamn head.

He gets in the car first and when the others don’t join, he watches through the tinted windows as Chan mumbles something to Hyunjin and Jisung, who nod, throw weary glances at the car, before walking over to the other car.

Chan turns and makes for the car Changbin’s in, climbs in, and closes the door behind him.

“Just us today,” he says to the driver, who nods and pulls away.

Changbin doesn’t look at Chan during the drive. For an hour, he sits next to him, his chest burning with unshed tears, his fists balled at his side, his brain running amok, white noise and pain.

Somehow they make it to the dorm.

Chan says goodbye to the driver, follows Changbin into the elevator, up to their floor, down the hall. He waits patiently until Changbin has punched in the code, until the door has fallen shut behind them, and they’ve toed off their shoes. He drops his backpack by the door, follows Changbin into his room, where Changbin drops his own, shrugs his jacket off.

When he turns around, Chan folds him into a hug and Changbin breaks down.

White noise. Static. His chest like a balled fist.

“H-he kissed m-me,” he hiccups, a string of drool dripping onto Chan’s shirt. Chan hums, rubs his hands over Changbin’s back soothingly. “H-he f-fucking k-kissed me, after a-all this f-fucking time, Channie.”

Chan’s arms tighten around him, and more sobs tear out of Changbin.

“I’m sorry, hyung. I’m sorry. I love him.”

He sobs again, so hard his legs nearly give out.

Chan shushes him quietly. “I know, Binnie, I know.”

Changbin can’t even pull back, he only clings onto Chan tighter.

“H-how the fuck do y-you know,” he wails, “why are you s-so fine with th-this.”

It’s overwhelming. And it’s getting worse, the idea of Chan knowing makes Changbin wonder who else knows. Who else has been witnessing this whole train wreck knowing more than Changbin does.

His chest tightens until his sobs turn into gasps for air and Chan somehow drags him over to his bed, guides him to sit, all without ever taking his arms from where they’re protectively, soothingly wrapped around Changbin’s body.

“It’s okay, Binnie, it’s okay to love him,” he murmurs, trying to be calm, but Changbin only cries harder. He sobs, spit and tears and snot staining Chan’s shirt.

“It’s not o-okay,” Changbin somehow manages to whimper out, “b-because I l-love her, too. I love him and I love her. I love them both.” Chan’s hands freeze momentarily, before they resume their calm movements over Changbin’s shoulders and his back.

It’s like a dam has broken and Changbin can’t stop spilling his fucking guts.

“And neither of them love me,” he wails, forces the words out between sobs and hiccups. “They love each other. And they’re beautiful together, Channie, they’re so beautiful. And I thought I would be f-fine w-watching because how can I be with either of them when I love the o-other, too, b-but it’s s-so hard, hyung, it’s so f-fucking hard.”

Somewhere along the way he has started hyperventilating again, Changbin realises, because Chan is now rocking him back and forth.

“A-and n-now … he k-kissed me?! A-and sh-she kissed me the o-other … day and … we hooked up, too, Channie, right before her d-date with H-hyunjin and I don’t even know h-how that happened but afterwards it was a-awful and then I s-saw them and now Hyunjin k-kissed me?!”

Chan rocks him hard, tries to shush him, but Changbin is on a roll now.

“Like, how could he ch-cheat on her, right?! Hyunjin, of all … of all f-fucking people. And on h-her?! H-how?! How could he th-throw a chance with her away like that, when it’s a-all I’ve e-ever wanted. How f-fucking d-dare he?! And wh-why the fuck would he use m-me to do it?! There are other p-people, so many people, h-hotter people, probably lining up to kiss Hwang fucking Hyunjin. Why d-did he have to drag m-me into this?! It’s s-so c-cruel.”

“Binnie,” Chan mumbles, but Changbin shakes his head. “Binnie, don’t talk like that.”

Changbin scoffs. A wave of self-hatred washes over him, so strong it nearly blinds him.

“W-why?! Isn’t that what the problem is?! That I’m s-so f-fucking unlovable that w-who I thought were my b-best friends are just … u-using me to play some s-stupid games with each other?! Like I’m just some t-toy. B-because Changbin won’t complain.”

Chan pulls Changbin from his chest so fast Changbin can’t even cover his face, his stupid sweaty, red, face, but Chan doesn’t seem to care. He shakes him. Gently, but Chan shakes him.

“Not another word, Bin,” Chan warns, gives Changbin one of his dad looks, and it’s so intimidating that Changbin actually doesn’t dare say anything else. “I don’t know why they would do what they did, but I’m sure it wasn’t because of that.”

Changbin sniffles.

“Th-then, w-why?”

Chan sighs.

“I don’t know, but it’s not because you don’t mean anything to them. If anything, I think it might be the opposite.”

The thought of that hurts more than all the anger that came before it. Changbin starts sobbing again, and Chan pulls him back into his chest.

“It’s okay, Bin. We’ll figure it out, okay? You’ll figure it out.”

Changbin doesn’t believe him then.

But Chan stays, holds him until the worst of Changbin’s sobs have subsided, waves away his hoarse apology for crying and snotting all over his shirt. Chan brings him water and painkillers and tucks him into bed so gently it would’ve made Changbin start crying all over again, if his body hadn’t utterly exhausted itself. Chan leaves and exhaustion drags Changbin into a deep, dreamless sleep, even though it’s only 8pm.

He sleeps for 14 hours and when he stumbles out of his room the next day, Chan tells him that Hyunjin and Jeongin will be switching rooms for a while.

When Changbin asks what he told them, Chan shrugs, says he just told them Changbin and Hyunjin had a fight. Most of them knew, apparently, about you and Hyunjin dating, about Changbin and his unresolved feelings about the matter, but nobody had dared push the question. On account of “Changbin acting like a ticking time bomb”, according to Chan, which makes Changbin crumple in on himself with more self-loathing.

Nonetheless, Changbin is more grateful than he can even describe. He mumbles as much to Chan, gives Jeongin a half-mumbled thank you as well, but Chan just pats him on the back.

“Told you we’d figure it out, yeah?”

And Changbin nods; realises he should’ve talked to Chan a long, long time ago.

Chan arranges for Changbin to take a couple days off, days which Changbin spends … heartbroken. Wallowing. Crying and eating ice cream, the whole nine yards. Except it’s even worse, because he didn’t just get his heart broken by one person, but two. And along the way he also lost not one of his best friends, but both.

There’s a you-shaped hole in his soul. Every now and again, he picks up his phone, and he sees your chat pinned to the top of his KakaoTalk and the last sticker you sent, and he wishes he could message you. He wishes he could open your chat and go ‘today sucked, wyd?’ like he used to and see your little message bubble pop up immediately, always ready with some words that somehow always made him feel better, even if it was just the stupidest little joke.

And he wishes that in the mornings, he didn’t hear Jeongin’s laugh echoing through the dorm from Jisung and Hyunjin’s bathroom. He wishes Hyunjin were here and everything was normal. He wishes he could knock on Hyunjin’s door like he always did when he had a hard day. Hyunjin always knew, somehow, only had to take one look at Changbin to know. Because on those days, there was only softness, no edge to his pretend words of resistance when Changbin asked if he could come in. He would let Changbin come into the sanctuary that is Hyunjin’s room, like a parallel world, a calm refuge, always smelling slightly of the dried roses hanging from his bedpost, the paint that’s always drying on some canvas or another.

But he has nothing now. He’s in his room, alone, in the empty dorm, while everyone else goes on with their life. And he keeps wondering if somewhere along the way he went wrong.

He didn’t think he did. His love for you and Hyunjin? There was never a question of it ever stopping. And the existence of two loves, his two loves, because they were always going to be a part of him, stitched into the fabric of his heart by fate itself, meant he could never have either. Because both of you deserved more than that. It’s what he always came back to. That part he was sure of. This was always the way it was meant to play out. Right?

A few days, he has lost count in his desolation, Changbin wakes up from a nap to laughter and chatter in the kitchen. One glance at his phone tells him it’s 8pm. He must’ve slept for an hour and a half somehow, though he doesn’t remember even falling asleep.

Groggily, he peels himself out of bed, throws a look in the mirror and runs a hand through his hair before he makes his way out of his room.

Though what he sees when he rounds the corner to the kitchen, makes him freeze in his tracks.

Everyone’s here. Jeongin, Seungmin and Yongbok are unloading containers and containers of takeaway food from countless white bags, Minho and Jisung are bickering and giggling while setting the table, and Chan is talking to …

You and Hyunjin, next to each other, laughing at something Chan said, fiddling with something in a big plastic container, trying to get it out of a brown paper bag …

When your eyes meet Changbin’s, you freeze. Chan whirls around, and Hyunjin sees him last, his face immediately falling as his eyes race up and down Changbin’s sleep-mussed form with badly contained worry.

“Binnie!” Chan exclaims and everyone else turns around. Changbin wants to disappear.

“Wh-what are you all doing here?” he somehow manages to rasp out, and Chan walks up to him.

“What do you mean? It’s your birthday, Bin, do you think we would let you wallow alone on your birthday?”

Oh.

He didn’t realise … Was it really … Wait, did he forget his own birthday?!

Chan seems to see the turmoil in his eyes, because he throws an arm around Changbin’s shoulder and leads him back down the hallway, back to his room.

“Why don’t you take a quick shower, and we’ll be right here, with food on the table, when you’re done, yeah? When’s the last time you had a proper–”

“Why are they here?”

It breaks out of him, interrupts Chan mid-sentence, but Chan doesn’t let it phase him.

“It’s your birthday, they wanted to celebrate it with you. Plus, they wanted to talk to you …”

Changbin panics, opens his mouth to say something, anything, to tell Chan that he isn’t ready, that he can’t face them, especially not together, but Chan shushes him.

“I think you should hear them out. Promise me you’ll hear them out?”

Changbin stares at Chan. He doesn’t know what they could possibly say that wouldn’t end with Changbin’s heart shattered on the floor of his room all over again, but Chan looks so convinced, so optimistic, so determined, that Changbin nods.

“Okay, now off to the shower with you. I’ll tidy up in here a bit, okay? Change your sheets, let some air in.”

Changbin nods again, lets Chan steer him to his drawers to get him a change of clothes, and then into the bathroom. And when he stumbles out of the steam ten minutes later, Chan is sitting on his clean, freshly made bed, scrolling through his phone.

“There you go, much better!” Chan exclaims with one of his patented smiles, and jumps up. “Now let’s get some food before it gets cold, and they kill us because they have to wait any longer.”

Everyone’s already crowded around the big dinner table, cheers erupting when Changbin and Chan come back. Jeongin mumbles a “finally!” and Changbin has no time to think before he’s steered into one of the empty seats, Seungmin to his left, Chan sitting down to his right.

When he looks up, he meets Jisung’s eyes, who smiles brightly at him, playing with Minho’s hand in his lap.

“Happy birthday, hyung! We missed you in the studio today,” he chirps, easily, dripping with sincerity, and Changbin’s heart convulses almost painfully. He had barely thought of the group these last few days, too focused was he on his broken heart. He feels almost bad.

“None of that,” Minho chides, as if he read Changbin’s mind. Though Changbin assumes it was written all over his face anyway. Clearly, his pokerface is lacking these days. “You needed the rest.”

Jisung next to him nods, and Changbin gives them both what he hopes is a genuine smile. But it’s hard. As Chan loads up his plate, he finally dares to let his eyes stray down the table where you and Hyunjin are, sat next to each other.

To his relief, neither of you are looking at him. You’re talking to Jeongin about something, Hyunjin is busy trying to get a drink from the kitchen island without having to get up, before he gives up and does, grabbing two diet cokes, placing one in front of you automatically. The gesture is so domestic it makes Changbin feel sick with jealousy. He can’t do this. He can’t watch this. What the fuck was he thinking?!

But then Hyunjin’s eyes meet his and Hyunjin smiles. It’s small, sheepish, and impossibly soft, big eyes round, mouthing a quiet “hi” and Changbin’s chest erupts into barbed wire butterflies. He wonders how long it will take for him to get over this. He wonders if he ever will.

“Come on, Bin, eat up,” Chan exclaims, rips Changbin’s attention away from Hyunjin and to his plate, filled to the brim with all his favourite foods and when he looks up, Seungmin is smiling at him.

“Eat, hyung, we had to go to like five different places to get all of this, so you better enjoy it,” he teases, and Changbin huffs out a laugh, but digs in.

And really, he didn’t eat very well the last few days, his appetite having all but disappeared, swallowed up by the heartbreak until there was nothing left. So he lived on leftovers left by the others, off cup ramen and convenience store kimbap. And he didn’t care, but now, with all of this in front of him, he realises he’s starving.

So he eats. Lets himself be dragged into different conversations, lets Jisung whine about how fast his rap is in the song they were recording, listens to him and Seungmin discuss singing techniques, to Chan talk about this new machine his personal trainer made him use the other day.

Every now and again, he steals glances at you and Hyunjin, and he doesn’t know if you’re doing it to be kind to him, but there’s no lovey-dovey-ness between you; no whispering, no touching, no stolen glances. Changbin is grateful, but he’s also confused.

But before long, everyone’s done eating and you and Hyunjin disappear into the kitchen only to reappear side by side, holding a giant cake. Everyone starts singing the most disjointed rendition of happy birthday which should be criminal considered they’re all singers, but Changbin doesn’t care. Tears prick in his eyes before the song is even over.

The cake is pink. Impeccably frosted. And it’s dwaekki-themed. Ears, little pigtail and face and all. On the bottom it says, “Happy birthday, Changbin!” and there are at least 10 candles, burning, flickering precariously with every step you take.

You and Hyunjin carry it in together, smiling at him, placing the cake in front of him on the table just when the song ends and Changbin tries his best not to cry. Before you pull away, he can feel your hand on brush against his neck, rubbing your thumb over his skin, then Hyunjin’s stronger one, squeezing his shoulder. They’re small touches, barely anything, but his whole body erupts into goosebumps.

But he doesn’t have time to dwell. Someone hands him the knife, tells him to blow out the candles and make a wish, and he does, wishes that one day he will be able to have his friends back.

They wanted to talk to you.

Changbin tries not to freak out about the prospect of it, but when everyone’s had cake, when Minho and Jisung and Chan are done tidying up the kitchen, and everyone slowly starts to make to leave except for you and Hyunjin, it all becomes a little too real.

“Bin?”

You say his name so sweetly, so quietly.

He turns and is met with you and Hyunjin, who’s hovering behind you, gnawing at his lips nervously.

“C-can we talk?” you ask.

Changbin doesn’t respond. He has the urge to say yes, because you clearly want to. He can see the worry and the stress in your tired eyes, wants to do anything he can to alleviate it, but … he doesn’t know if he can do this. He feels like he’s made of glass and one wrong move will shatter him all over the floor.

“Please, hyung,” Hyunjin mumbles, opens his mouth like he wants to say something else, but Jisung screeching in the hallway, makes him falter. “Just, please?”

So Changbin nods. He tries to regulate his breathing as everyone files out with little waves and hugs and more “happy birthdays”, and even manages to hold it together when Chan hugs him and mumbles “you can call me if anything happens, okay?”, only when the door falls shut behind them, and he’s left alone with you, he starts panicking.

He turns around and finds you exactly where you were before, aimlessly fiddling with one of the containers of leftovers, Hyunjin leaning against the kitchen island, running his hand through his hair for the nth time, his foot tapping the floor nervously.

Changbin can’t stand it any longer.

“I … I can’t be your friend. I’m sorry. I really tried, but I-I can’t,” he forces out, “or maybe I can, one day, but not right now. It hurts too much. You hurt me a lot. I need time.”

You straighten up, a look on your face like you’ve been slapped.

Hyunjin winces, takes a step towards him.

“Hyung, I’m sorry,” he starts, and Changbin’s brows furrow, but Hyunjin just takes another step towards him, “I know, I fucked up, I shouldn’t have just kissed you.”

Changbin freezes, whips his head over to you, but you don’t seem surprised. Quite the opposite. Hyunjin is right in front of him now, his breath puffing against his face, just like it did a few days ago, right before …

“I shouldn’t have done it,” he says, his determined gaze racing all over Changbin’s face, “and I should’ve explained, but it was all so … I was so confused and so unsure because I couldn’t believe you’d really want me …”

“What?!”

His disbelief is genuine. Hyunjin blushes, and nods.

“Y/Nie kept telling me, but I just couldn’t believe it? I thought you were just teasing me all these years. Ironic, because the one person I wanted, didn’t want me back. Because it was always so obvious to me that you wanted her …”

Changbin’s head spins and for a second, he thinks he might pass out. You seem to be able to sense it. You mumble, Hyunjin’s name, who blinks, then takes a quick step back. Changbin feels like he can breathe again.

“Hey, why don’t we take this to your room, Bin?” you say gently, give Hyunjin a look. Hyunjin nods, steps back another few steps, and lets you take Changbin’s hand and drag him back to his room.

You lead him to his bed, make him sit down, Hyunjin immediately taking the spot next to him, just close enough, so his knee rests against the side of Changbin’s thigh when he crosses his long graceful legs underneath him. There’s more space between them now, which Changbin is grateful for, because even just that touch when it’s just the three of you here in his room, makes him a little dizzy.

You don’t sit down, instead you come to stand in front of him. Changbin blinks up at you. He feels like he’s staring straight at the sun.

“We’re sorry, Binnie,” you announce with a deep sigh, giving Changbin a look that melts his heart, “we’re sorry we didn’t talk to you sooner. Everything was so messy, and it took us ages to figure it out between ourselves and … and we didn’t know how much you were hurting, how much we were hurting you. We’re sorry.”

Hyunjin makes a soft sound of agreement next to him.

“The thing is …” you take a deep breath, ”both Hyune and I … we both went into our date with each other trying to get over you.”

Changbin’s whole world tilts on its axis.

“I kinda … I loved you for so long, and I figured you’d never want me back, I honestly always thought you were in love with Hyunjin, ever since you told me about him, but … I don’t know, it’s been like, what 7 years, and you never made a move and when Hyune and I met, there was so much chemistry and I thought maybe, just maybe, I should try, you know? And I didn’t know if it would last or anything, but I was kinda desperate because I really needed to get over you.”

You flush, fidget awkwardly where you stand.

“But then … I don’t know, I fucked up, I kissed you, and we had sex and afterwards it was so obvious how much you regretted it, and it hurt so fucking bad to see, so when Hyunjin kissed me in the museum and my heart nearly beat out of my chest, I, uh, I was so relieved. Like, maybe there was a chance, maybe I could get over you. But I couldn’t … of course not.”

Hyunjin’s hand splays over Changbin’s thigh, and Changbin shivers.

“And neither could I …” he murmurs, voice thick like honey in Changbin’s ears. “I really tried … and I was so confused that on Y/N and my second date, I just kind of … freaked out. Told her I heard you. Told her that I was sorry but also that I wasn’t, because it … it turned me on so bad.”

He breathes out the last words, and Changbin nearly chokes on his spit.

“But also that I was really jealous and that I was pretty sure I was in love with you but also liked her and … well, long story short, we realised in a, uhh, very explicit way, that we were both in the same boat, but also really liked each other … But it almost felt like … something was missing. You were missing.”

Hyunjin moves a little closer, lets his hand trace over Changbin’s arm, down to his wrist, before linking his hands in his.

“And we wanted to talk to you, but then you were so cold to me when we were filming that last SKZ code episode, and I kinda just … lost my head. I got so scared. And I followed you because I wanted to tell you all of this, but you were so angry, and it was so hot, and you kissed me back so hard it knocked any coherent thought out of me and I messed it all up. Chan told me as much, when he came to the other dorm. Yelled at me so loud in front of the others …”

Hyunjin shivers, and you take the break in his rant to sit down on Changbin’s other side.

“When Hyunjin told Chan we wanted to talk to you, he had this big, long dad talk with us, about our feelings and our intentions,” you mumble, and shiver. “He basically gave us the shovel talk, it was scary.”

Hyunjin giggles quietly.

“But the long and short of it is,” you take a deep breath, but it’s shaky. Hyunjin’s hand leaves Changbin’s only for long enough to reach over his lap and squeeze yours, before returning to lace into Changbin’s again. “We wanted to ask you … if there was any possible way you might have feelings for us. Because we do … have, like, a lot of feelings … for you.”

Changbin’s heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest. He wants to pinch himself, to make sure he isn’t dreaming, but Hyunjin’s warm presence, his thumb rubbing circles into the back of his hand, your leg jumping nervously, it all feels too real to be a dream.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you breathe out with an awkward chuckle, “just … you just need to tell us. We didn’t really think that far because we’re both romantics and also both kinda delusional,” you laugh again, though Changbin can hear the sadness, “That’s something we learned about each other in the last weeks. But we’ll figure something out. If you just love Hyune, it’s okay, I … I’m not mad, I promise. At least I’ll know. I just can’t pine over you any longer.”

Changbin’s head whips up so fast he nearly pulls something.

“Is that what you think?”

You shrug, avoid his eyes.

“It seemed pretty obvious,” you mumble, “with how you talked about him from day one. How much you regretted sleeping with me, how you kissed him back …”

You look so devastated, it makes Changbin’s chest ache.

He shakes his head. He reaches for you, his hand as shaky as the day you kissed him, cupping your face. His whole body is thrumming with something he can’t name.

“I … wow, is this real?!” he huffs out, with a disbelieving laugh, “Angel, I’ve been in love with you for years …”

Hyunjin hums approvingly, and Changbin’s face snaps over. Hyunjin is right there, staring at him with wide eyes.

“You …” Changbin mumbles, and Hyunjin’s eyes suddenly widen, almost in fear, “Do you think I would flirt with you for so many years without meaning any of it?! Are you crazy?”

Hyunjin pouts, and Changbin wants to kiss it off him. The thought that he might have wanted him to all along, makes him feel insane.

“Well, you never shut up about her! It was always ‘Y/N this, Y/N that’ and ‘Ah, no, Changbin isn’t coming home until later, he’s at Y/N’s’. At some point, I figured the two of you were together and just didn’t tell anyone.”

Changbin blushes hard, but before he can overthink it, he decides to be brave. He frees his hand from Hyunjin’s reaches up, and pulls Hyunjin into a kiss. Hyunjin squeals into his lips, before he relaxes, presses himself closer, until half his leg is in Changbin’s lap and his hand is ghosting up his back. And then he pulls back, blinks his eyes open and looks past Changbin, and Changbin turns and meets your eyes. Your pupils are blown, and despite all of his words, there’s something so uncertain in your face.

“Come here,” Changbin whispers, and you do. Effortlessly, easily, shimmy forward until he can wrap his arm around your waist and press his lips to yours, and he wonders once more if he’s dreaming, but when Hyunjin’s lips find his neck, your fingers travel over his legs until they find Hyunjin’s …

When Changbin pulls back, he’s dizzy. Hyunjin is all but folded around him, nuzzling his face into Changbin’s neck, and you’re staring at him so intently and Changbin has a hard time figuring out what’s right and wrong.

Hyunjin shifts and Changbin feels him half hard in his pants, and he panics a little bit.

“C-can we … can we just … can we just hang out tonight? Watch something or cuddle, or I don’t know,” he asks, shakily, squeezes his eyes closed, “this is … this is a lot, I think I need a minute.”

Hyunjin pulls back, soothes his hand over Changbin’s back and you nod.

It’s only when the light is off later, the three of you tangled into each other in Changbin’s double bed, that’s just about big enough to hold you all, with you curled up against his chest and Hyunjin’s body plastered against his back, that Hyunjin dares bring it up again.

“This feels right, doesn’t it?” he whispers into the darkness, and Changbin’s heart skips a beat. You giggle and hum out a sleepy yes against his chest, and Changbin can’t even find the words. It does.

It’s scary, so, so scary and new, but it feels right in a way that only his soul can understand.

And his soul? Well, it seems that overnight, it found its way, back to where it belongs – in the spot right next to his beating, aching heart, beating and, maybe, just maybe, if last night wasn’t a dream, no longer aching for you.

And it wasn’t a dream, Changbin notes, with a relief that makes his toes curl. Because before he even opens his eyes he can feel Hyunjin’s hair tickling his nose, your soft arm thrown over his waist, your feet tangled with his, and the sun shining in through the crack in the curtains, and he feels like he’s finally come home.

You stir against his back, arch into him as you stretch, your fingers absentmindedly slipping under his shirt, brushing against the skin of his lower stomach. You nuzzle back against him, press a soft kiss to his back, and he sighs. Gently, he covers your hand and with his, gives it a squeeze that makes you hum softly.

Hyunjin wakes then, too, huffing out a breath, the little pout on his angelic face pulling into a yawn, before he detaches himself from Changbin’s side enough to roll onto his back. Changbin watches as he stretches his arms above his head, cursing Hyunjin because he clearly knows how good he looks like this, the lean muscles in his biceps bulging, his shirt riding up enough to expose his toned stomach, the little trail of dark hair leading into his pants where …

Jesus christ. Changbin had seen Hyunjin naked before, plenty of times, and distantly, he knew Hyunjin wasn’t exactly on the small side, but right here, right now, morning wood impressively hard in just his thin cotton boxers? His cock is fucking massive. The mere thought of getting his hands on him makes Changbin’s own half-hard cock twitch in interest.

And you seem to have felt it, because you chuckle deviously and the hand that was trailing over his stomach dips lower.

Hyunjin blinks his eyes open at the sound of your giggle, a pretty little smile on his face as he faces Changbin, his eyes falling down to where your fingers are tracing the waistband of Changbin’s briefs and he hums.

“Good morning,” he rasps, scoots closer, lets one of his hands trail up Changbin’s arm, up over his shoulder, until he can trace Changbin’s cheek. He’s gentle with it, his eyes constantly on Changbin, watching every single one of his reactions with a loving diligence. But below his gentleness, simmering somewhere deep in his eyes, is a hunger than Changbin has never seen before. His cock is rock hard now, your teasing fingertips keeping him teetering on the brink of insanity.

“Please tell me you haven’t changed your mind …” Hyunjin breathes out, and Changbin huffs out in disbelief. He shakes his head and that’s all Hyunjin needs before he leans in to kiss him, morning breath and all. But Changbin doesn’t care. He’s in his bed, with the sun on his face, your body pressed against him and Hyunjin kissing him. He has never been better.

Your fingers dip underneath his waistband like a question.

“Is this okay?” you ask, your voice a breathless thing against the nape of his neck.

Changbin nods, whines a yes into Hyunjin’s lips, and then your hand wraps around his cock and he moans. Hyunjin sighs happily, pulls back only enough to murmur a pleased little “so loud” against his lips, before he presses closer and kisses him even harder.

It’s mind-blowing how good your simple touches feel, nothing grand, only your bodies pressed together, your hand sliding up and down his cock, Hyunjin’s tongue licking against his.

When Changbin’s hips stutter, Hyunjin makes a noise into his mouth and pulls back. Changbin nearly comes just from the vision of him, eyes darker than he’s ever seen them, his sinfully plump lips bitten, chest rising and falling harshly. He looks like some kind of greek god of sex, even more so when he looks past him, over his shoulder, and then pushes Changbin until he’s all the way on his back.

When Hyunjin grabs you by the chin and pulls you in for a kiss right in front of Changbin, Changbin thinks he might actually still be dreaming because holy shit. You’re greedy, pull Hyunjin in with a hand in his hair and Hyunjin matches you effortlessly, parts his lips, lets you lick into his mouth before he returns the favour, kisses you so filthily, Changbin’s belly does a swoop and his cock twitches pathetically in your hand, that’s still pumping, albeit erratically, too distracted by Hyunjin’s assault on your mouth.

But before long, Hyunjin pulls back and turns his hungry eyes back on Changbin, keeps him pinned to the mattress with them as he shoves the covers aside and slithers down his body.

“Fuck, Hyune-aahhh.”

Changbin’s words are cut off when Hyunjin nudges his nose and open mouth against his clothed cock with a hum that travels all the way up Changbin’s spine. There’s an embarrassing wet spot where the head of his cock is leaking, and it’s only getting wetter by the minute.

"Let me make it up to you, hyungie," Hyunjin purrs.

“I’m not gonna … fuck me sideways,” he moans out when Hyunjin rips his briefs down and off his legs in one fell swoop.

“Some other time, gladly,” Hyunjin teases, and Changbin would’ve made a pathetic sound in the back of his throat if Hyunjin didn’t choose that exact moment to swallow his cock into his hot mouth.

He hollows his cheeks, hums, does a little flick with his tongue against the underside of Changbin’s cock and makes a whole show of rolling his eyes before he pulls off and grins up at Changbin.

“Your cock is so perfect, hyungie,” he teases, and Changbin tries to hide his burning, probably embarrassingly pink, face with a whine, only to awkwardly bump his nose into the side of your face. You giggle.

“What? Don’t like the dirty talk?” you hum, and Changbin gives you a mock glare, one that is horribly interrupted by his eyes rolling into the back of his head when Hyunjin sinks his cock back into his mouth.

“If I’d known … fuck, Hyunjin,” Changbin moans, his hand reaching down, tangling in Hyunjin’s hair, though feeling the bob of his head only makes him hurtle towards his orgasm faster, “if I’d known you had such a mouth on you …”

Hyunjin pulls off again, his eyes watery from the effort, and lets the head of Changbin’s cock rest against his plump bottom lip and smiles up at him. It’s an image that not even Changbin’s filthiest desires could’ve cooked up.

“Then what? You would’ve let me hit sooner?”

His tongue darts out and digs into Changbin’s slit, and Changbin curses. He’s going to come, and soon.

Your fingertips trail under his shirt, up the side of his chest, until they reach his nipple. Your touch makes electricity prickle through his veins, and then you turn his head towards you and your lips find his and Changbin loses any shred of sanity.

He comes with an arch of his back and a strangled moan that’s muffled by your lips, one hand buried in Hyunjin’s hair, the other holding on to your arm for dear life. Pleasure rushes through him so fast he thinks he might black out, his whole body shivering again and again, toes curling, until he has nothing left to give, and he collapses into the pillows, breathing heavily, one arm slung over his face.

Distantly, he feels Hyunjin pull off his cock, and he tries to slur out an apology, one Hyunjin promptly ignores.

“Did he just …” Hyunjin asks, fondness laced through every word.

“Did you just come from kissing me?” you ask with a giggle, but it’s so gentle, so fond, that the embarrassment burning Changbin’s ears can’t even harshen his post-orgasm glow.

Hyunjin giggles, then there’s shuffling. Hyunjin murmurs a quiet “come here, baby” and your warmth disappears from Changbin’s side with one more kiss to his forehead, and then the bed dips on his other. When Changbin lifts his arm and cracks one of his eyes open, he is greeted with the view of you and Hyunjin kissing again, though this time it’s different. A lot softer, more coordinated.

You’re straddling Hyunjin’s waist, one knee on each side of him, draped over his chest, one hand supporting yourself in the pillows next to Hyunjin’s head, the other cupping Hyunjin’s face like it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever touched. Hyunjin’s hands on the other hand, are all over you – one smoothing under your shirt and over your belly and, if your gasp is anything to judge by, grabbing your tits, the other on the back of your legs, travelling up and under the boxer shorts you borrowed from Changbin. Changbin can’t see, but when you moan and arch into his hand, he assumes Hyunjin started playing with your pussy.

Changbin’s mouth waters just watching, but then you sit back enough to pull your shirt over your head and do the same to Hyunjin and suddenly, Changbin’s mouth is very, very dry. His cock twitches valiantly.

Skin. So much skin. Your plushness against Hyunjin’s lean, wiry muscles, his strong hands digging divots into your skin, one of them wrapped around your breast, playing with your nipples. Hyunjin is still hard, straining against his boxers, and when you grind forward, dragging your core against the base of his cock, Hyunjin moans, low and melodic and needy.

Changbin’s hard again. It must be some sort of record, but how could he not, with the two most perfect people he has ever seen, making out half naked after sucking soul of out him.

When you scramble off the bed to shuck off your (his, Changbin’s brain supplies unhelpfully) boxers and see him watching you, a smile so gorgeous yet so devious it gives him whiplash, pulls at your lips.

Hyunjin scrambles out of his boxers, too, and Changbin can’t help but stare when Hyunjin’s cock springs free and slaps heavily against his abdomen because fuck, that might be the most beautiful dick he’s ever seen in his life, long and straight, beading precum at the tip. And lord knows he has imagined having Hyunjin every which way, but the thought of him putting that inside him makes Changbin a little more than just dizzy.

Changbin gets distracted by Hyunjin reaching out, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and pulling him closer.

“Get over here,” Hyunjin rasps out, his eyes hooded, and Changbin doesn’t have to be told twice.

He leans in, captures Hyunjin’s lips in his, kisses him with everything he has because, oh god, he can just do this now. He can just kiss Hwang Hyunjin whenever he wants. And Hyunjin seems to like it, because he turns into putty underneath his hands, pliable and pretty, chasing Changbin’s touch until Changbin gives in, runs his palms over his stomach, down, wrapping his hand around his beautiful, heavy cock, and stroking him, swallowing his moans, until Changbin feels the bed dip and your leg against his again. Then he trails his hands up again, over his abs, until he can run his fingers over his pecs. When he brushes over his nipple, Hyunjin gasps, throws his head back.

“Binnie,” you murmur softly, and when he looks over, you sink down on Hyunjin’s cock, taking it all the way to the hilt with a choked moan, your fingernails digging into Hyunjin’s thighs and Changbin nearly comes on the spot. Hyunjin moans prettily, one of his hands finding your waist, eyebrows knitting together in an expression of pleasure-pain that is more gorgeous than anything Changbin has ever seen.

But when he looks over at you, you, with your hair wild, your back arched, goosebumps on your glistening skin as you throw your head back, circle your hips in a slow grind – Changbin is at a loss where to look because surely this cannot be real.

Hyunjin makes the decision for him, whines, demands his attention back by sinking his fingers into Changbin’s hair and yanking him down into his lips so hard pain zaps through Changbin’s scalp, only to be replaced by molten arousal when Hyunjin licks into his mouth like a man starved. And his moans only get louder when you start bouncing on him in earnest, getting up on your knees and letting yourself fall down on Hyunjin’s cock until your legs start shaking.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Hyunjin curses out, his hips bucking up to meet yours with every one of your bounces, and you mewl, falling forward and into Hyunjin’s chest weakly.

“C-can’t, legs h-hurt, p-please,” you whimper, voice so brittle and desperate it sends Changbin into a tailspin. He mashes his lips against yours and Hyunjin moans, plants his feet and starts fucking up into you, and the sound you make is outright obscene. Changbin’s patience snaps, and he reaches down, wraps one hand around himself. The relief of his touch makes him almost delirious.

You’re still kissing him, though it’s more teeth and spit than anything, and then you turn your head and Hyunjin catches you, cradles you against him and fucks up into you harder, until Changbin’s headboard is thudding against the wall in an erratic rhythm that Changbin knows all the neighbours can hear.

“C-close,” you mumble and Hyunjin whimpers into your mouth, turns, drags Changbin closer until his mouth is in the mix, too, and it’s filthy and messy and so entirely uncoordinated that it shouldn’t be hot, but, it is, because Changbin is swapping spit with the two loves of his life.

Somehow, he comes first, spills weakly over his fist as another desperate orgasm racks through him, renders him entirely boneless, watching as Hyunjin ruts into you until you come with a choked moan, muttering Hyunjin’s then Changbin’s name, and Hyunjin’s whole body arches when he follows you over the edge, burying himself in you to the hilt with a weak moan.

Then he collapses, and you along with him, cheek squished against his chest, fucked out and gorgeous, before you slowly let yourself slide off his chest, and into the space between them. You mewl weakly when Hyunjin’s cock slides out of you and his cum starts dripping out of you, a sight that makes stars dance in Changbin’s vision and his spent cock throb.

It’s a little gross. Sweat and cum and spit drying on skin, but neither you nor Hyunjin make any effort to move. And neither does Changbin. So the three of you just lie there, basking in the glory of it all, Hyunjin and your hands linked on his chest, Changbin wrapped around your back, drawing shapes onto Hyunjin’s abs.

“Are we … are we dating now?” you ask into the silence, sheepish, and Hyunjin cracks an eye open, before he turns on his side, presses a kiss to your nose that makes Changbin’s heart flutter.

“I’d be honoured to be your boyfriend,” he murmurs, and Changbin can see your smile mirrored in the one that takes over Hyunjin’s as he looks at you.

Then you turn around, enough to be able to stare up at Changbin.

“What about you? Wanna be my boyfriend, Binnie?”

“And mine!” Hyunjin chirps. You giggle.

“And Hyunjin’s?”

Changbin doesn’t even try to play coy. He smiles, big and uninhibited, so wide he knows his dimples are probably showing, but he doesn’t care.

“I’d love to be your boyfriend,” he says. He means it more than he has ever meant anything in his life. His heart threatens to leap out of his chest.

“And mine?” Hyunjin asks, fluttering his lashes at Changbin with a pretty little pout on his lips.

“And yours, silly,” Changbin laughs out and Hyunjin smiles, leans up to kiss Changbin, then you, watches as Changbin kisses you with a smile on his lips, before he settles back down, cuddles back up to you. Changbin yawns.

“We should shower …” he says, half-heartedly, but you huff, pull his arm closer around you.

“Just … a few more minutes,” you mumble, and Changbin can hear the sleep already tugging at your consciousness.

“Yeah, this is nice,” Hyunjin adds, scoots closer until his forehead is resting against yours on the pillow. His eyes are already closed.

And Changbin? Well, what is he going to do. He ignores the stickiness between his legs in favour of the soft body of his love in his arms, and when sleep tugs at his consciousness, beckoned by Hyunjin’s soft snores, he lets it overtake him. They can always shower later. They have all the time in the world now.

A year later, on his birthday, they’re all out together at a Korean BBQ place, one that Jisung and Minho go to so often that they’ve become friends with the owners, and always get a private room in the back where they can truly have privacy.

You and Hyunjin disappear after the meat is all eaten, and then you walk back in, moments later, side by side, holding a giant cake. Everyone sings happy birthday.

The cake has a picture of the three of you on it, because his birthday is now also partly your anniversary. You usually celebrate twice, though. Not like any of you need an excuse to be sappy and romantic on any given day. You may be the sappiest couple, or throuple, Changbin knows. He loves every second of it.

In the picture on the cake, Changbin is standing in between you two, Hyunjin’s arm slung around his shoulders, you folded into his side. You took it at Namsan Tower a couple of months ago, asked a stranger to take it in front of the famous hearts, giggling when you pulled down your masks and the stranger looked confused, like he was trying to figure out where he knew you from. It was a beautiful night. You ate ice cream and stole sticky sweet kisses in alleyways and behind trees and then went home and fucked each other’s brains out until Jisung was pounding on the wall separating his room from Hyunjin’s begging you to stop.

You place the cake down on the table in front of him as the song ends. Someone tells him to blow out the candles and make a wish. He blows them out and wishes this – you, Changbin and Hyunjin – will last forever.

Everyone cheers, you squeal, wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind. Hyunjin sits back down at his place to Changbin’s right and laces his fingers with his. He gives Changbin the biggest, fondest, smile, and leans in until he's cuddled into his side. Changbin’s heart melts.

You pepper sweet little kisses all over his cheek and over his neck.

“Happy birthday, Binnie,” you whisper, happiness evident in your voice. “I love you so much.”

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🌊 ೃ‧₊◜ sea may rise, sky may fall chapter VIII

pairing: lee know x f!reader x han jisung

summary: jisung's intoxicated honesty pays off in that he finally gets what he's been craving so madly. but will it be so easy?

word count: 9.4k

warnings: unprotected sex; consensual sex under the influence; p in v; oral sex (m&f receiving); mxm anal sex; one tiny lil predator/prey moment but it's very hot; another fight bc these pirates thrive off drama

author's note: I'M SORRY FOR LAST WEEK'S CLIFFHANGER BUT THE CHAPTER WOULD'VE GOTTEN TOO LONG OKAY!! to make up for it, this is almost entirely smut lol (see why i couldn't add it?). mwah mwah I love you all who have been reading this and commenting religiously. you mean the world to me!

this series is 🔞, so minors, please DNI

series masterlist // skzms masterlist

< chapter VII - chapter IX (coming: friday, may 3, 3pm CET) >

The breath Minho expels puffs against your neck, makes a shiver run down your spine. Jisung looks like a wet dream, a siren with sweet, kissable lips, soft brown hair, an impossibly tiny waist and soft, strong muscled shoulders.

You want him so bad you ache with it.

“Meet me back at the ship,” Minho growls out, want buried somewhere deep in his voice, and Jisung’s eyes widen, like he didn’t quite believe it would work. But he nods, and then Minho’s warmth leaves your back. You watch him walk out, Jisung’s hand still on your neck. Someone bumps into his back, and it jostles him out of his reverie, seems to remind him where you are. He drops his hand. The loss of both their touch makes you shiver with a desperate kind of loss.

Jisung’s achingly deep, lidded eyes slip down to your lips, and you watch his pink tongue dart out to wet his like it holds salvation.

“Not here,” you whisper. Your voice is high, desperate. You reach a hand out, drag your fingers over the back of his. He shivers. You see your want mirrored in him. He blinks erratically, like he’s coming out of a trance.

“Captain,” he mumbles, his voice thick and low and so, so sexy. You think the title may have never sounded better. Jisung’s eyebrows furrow, he pulls his hand out of your reach. Your heart drops.

“Captain, I kissed him,” he whispers, quietly, sorrowfully. Scared. “Minho. A couple weeks ago. We had a fight and emotions ran high, and I kissed him and I should’ve told you, and I’m so sorry.”

You’re frozen where you are, staring back at him, your face schooled into your usual impassivity, though there’s a dull pain in your chest. You hadn’t expected a confession like this. Not here, not now. Jisung takes your silence for disapproval.

“I’m sorry, captain, I understand if you no longer want this. You can just say the word. You can go back to the ship alone. But I needed you to know before we do this because …” he takes a deep breath, “because I’ve wanted this for too long to let something like this poison it.”

The kraken in your chest rankles, writhes. But it seems undecided, confused. You force yourself to ask the heavy question on the tip of your tongue.

“Do you just want to do this to get to him?”

Jisung actually reels back at that, his eyes wide in shock, body curled in on itself like the question physically hurt. He shakes his head vehemently, reaches a gentle hand closer, until it can wrap around your wrist.

“No! No, God, no, I … I’ve wanted you since I met you,” he mumbles, his eyes trained down, but flicking up, like he wants to look at you, but he doesn’t quite have the courage to. His hand slips from your wrist, down, until he can lace his fingers with yours so gently it takes your breath away. His breath hitches. “That’s the trouble – I can’t stop myself from being so greedy when it comes to you. Can’t stop myself from wanting you. Both of you.”

It’s insane, it’s mad, he’s so beautiful, his touch sets you on fire, it’s terrifying.

Abruptly, you get up and he stares up at you. You smile at him as best as you can, stretching out your hand to him.

“Let’s go then.”

He jumps up, laces his warm fingers with yours, lets you lead him through the tavern, past hazy faces, past two bodies intertwined against the wall leading to the toilets that look suspiciously like Hyunjin and Chan, though you can’t dwell on it now with Jisung between your fingertips.

When you stumble out the front door, the fragrant night air rushes into your lungs. It’s balmy, but the breeze is chilly. It clears your foggy head a little, but does nothing to quell the aching want in your belly.

You turn and meet Jisung’s eyes and something cracks, and before you can take another step to drag Jisung to the ship, he pulls you into the dark, shaded alley right next to the tavern. He’s strong, but his movements are gentle, dark eyes hazy as he pushes you against the wall, his hands skating up to cup your face.

“I can’t wait until we’re on the ship to do this,” he mumbles, hotly, sweetly, and leans in.

He kisses you, and it feels like all the blood in your body is replaced by honey, hot and sticky and sirupy-sweet. His lips are impossibly soft against yours, moving against yours with a barely contained hunger. There’s a tremble in his hand when he drags his thumb over your cheek. He drowns the last dregs of your self-control in his sticky sweetness.

Your lips part and your tongue searches for his, a broken moan shivering out of his throat when they touch, silky and hot, licking against yours like he wants to devour you. He wraps his arms around you, pulls you closer, unashamedly presses you against where he’s hard and straining with desire in his pants, like he wants you to know what you do to him. It makes a shiver of arousal rack through you, and you can no longer resist, allow your hand to slither under his shirt, over the soft, hot skin of his waist. You rake your nails down the soft swell of his abs, and he moans into your tongue. You want to eat up every single sound he makes.

He pulls back when he needs air, his nose still resting against yours, hot breath fanning over your lips.

“I need you,” you whisper and Jisung sighs brokenly, “back to the ship. Now.”

And he complies, grabs your hand, and you run, hand in hand, giggling, through the balmy night, down the dusty streets that are almost empty at this time of night, until your boots slither over the wet wood the quay and you have to slow down. He kisses you again once you’re in the safety of the ship, kisses you, smilingly as he clumsily walks you backwards down the hallway to your quarters.

He’s still kissing you, eagerly licking into your mouth, his fingers digging into the skin of your waist when he pushes open the door. You hear Minho suck in a breath. You turn your head. He’s standing in the middle of the room, the candlelight playing off his sharp cheekbones, painting his dangerous, feline eyes an even darker shade of brown until you think he’s staring into your soul. Jisung is still pressed up against you, presses a wet kiss against your jaw as he watches Minho, too.

His name falls from your lips like a wrecked plea just as Jisung reaches out a hand and there’s no hesitation in the way he takes the few steps it takes for him to get to you. His hands shake when he reaches for you, cradles your face in his trembling hands, fear and tension lingering underneath so much raw, aching desire it makes you dizzy. You breathe out, blink at him, try to tell him wordlessly what you can’t put into words, and he seems to understand. He sighs, lets his forehead fall against yours for just a second before he tips his face forward and kisses you while Jisung watches.

Jisung’s arm around you tightens when Minho shivers out a moan, pries your jaw open with his thumb, slips his tongue into your mouth in the way he knows makes you putty in his hands. When you arch your back into Minho’s touch and brush against Jisung’s hard cock that is still straining against your leg, his breathing goes heavy, his desire like a living thing between you.

Minho’s pupils are blown, when he pulls back, his eyebrows drawn together in a dark determination that you know is him keeping his lust in check, but when he fixes Jisung with these eyes, Jisung gulps.

Minho stares at him, eyes flitting over Jisung’s flushed face, his chest that’s rising and falling sharply, and then, in the blink of an eye, Minho takes a step back, bends down, grabs Jisung’s waist and throws him over his shoulder. Jisung yelps, his hands shooting out, trying to stabilise himself on Minho’s back, and the surprise makes him look so adorable you can’t help but chuckle, letting Minho grab your hand and drag you along into your bedroom. He throws Jisung onto the mattress unceremoniously, Jisung’s body bouncing on the mattress as he struggles to keep up, eyes wide and glued to Minho, who bends down and pulls Jisung’s boots down. The tent in Jisung’s pants is painfully obvious with every shift of his body. Minho looks like he wants to devour him.

Minho gets on the bed, crawls up to Jisung with a predatory look in his eyes and Jisung, half-heartedly, distractedly, scoots back, like he’s trying to escape, but his eyes are glued to Minho, a little moan falling from his lips when Minho wraps his hand around his ankle and drags him back down, pulls him right underneath his body.

“I told you to stop running from me,” Minho growls, and then he swoops down, kisses Jisung so hard the latter’s hips jump off the bed with a debauched moan. Jisung’s hands helplessly hover in the air between them, unsure of where he’s allowed to touch, until Minho grabs one of them and brings it to his waist. Jisung’s fingers dig into the fabric readily, tugging at it desperately as Minho all but devours him.

It sends an odd thrill through you, the image of Jisung underneath Minho. It’s like a maddeningly hot out-of-body experience to see Minho like this, but it’s also impossible to rip your eyes away from Jisung; overwhelmed and turned on and uncertain, pretty and desperate under Minho’s control.

You don’t know if it’s the absinthe, but there’s no shame about it when you crawl onto the bed, get close enough until you can hear the wet slide of their tongues, can see the twitch of Jisung’s fingers, hear Minho suck in a breath when Jisung tugs at his shirt harder. You’re so turned on it’s making you feel dizzy, an aching heat, an embarrassing wetness pooling between your legs. Like you’re bewitched, you lift your hand, trail it up Jisung’s strong arms, over his shoulder, until it’s ghosting over his clothed chest.

Jisung gasps into Minho’s mouth and Minho pulls back, grips his chin between his fingers, fixes him with a look that Jisung is barely able to reciprocate. He’s beautiful when he’s so far gone.

“What do you want, hm?” Minho murmurs, and Jisung keens, his fingers digging into the material of Minho’s shirt and tugging at it.

“Anything,” Jisung mumbles, “everything … you …”

He tries to surge back up to kiss Minho again, but Minho pushes him down, sends you a heated look, before he turns Jisung’s head to you, lets you mould your hand around the sharp line of Jisung’s jaw and drag him into another filthy kiss, one he moans into immediately, his own hand surging up to bury itself into your hair, pulling you closer to lick deeper and deeper. You think you could kiss him like this forever.

His nails rake over your scalp when Minho’s hands slide down his body, under Jisung’s shirt, raking up his abs, find his nipples. He chokes out a moan, spit dribbling from the corner of his mouth, and Minho chuckles darkly, pulls Jisung’s mouth from yours by the back of his hair and pulls his shirt over his head.

And despite how gone Jisung already seems, his eyes find yours immediately, gaze dipping down to your lips before he kisses you again, uses his newfound freedom to turn to you better, hands greedily sliding under your shirt, smoothing over the plush of your waist, kneading and dragging his blunt nails over every inch of skin, until his hand finds your tits, and he squeezes, his mouth opening in tandem, his kiss turning filthier and filthier as he rucks your shirt up. Spit is smeared all over your and his pretty peach lips when he pulls the fabric over your head, leaving you bare for his hands to explore.

When he kisses down your jaw, your eyes fall on Minho, towering over the two of you. His hungry eyes are trained on you, glued to your lips, raking down your naked bodies, following Jisung’s hand as he touches you, his own hand palming himself over his pants before he squeezes himself and instead busies himself with untying Jisung’s pants. He groans when Jisung’s cock springs free and smacks against his abdomen, red and hard and leaking from the tip. You can’t tear your eyes from it. It’s perfect.

“No underwear, filthy boy,” Minho growls lowly, and Jisung chuckles cheekily into the skin of your neck before he lets his head loll against the sheets.

“I like how it fee–“

He cuts himself off with a lewd moan when Minho scrapes his nails up the inside of his thighs and wraps his hand around his cock, pumps him a few times, squeezing another few drops of precum from Jisung’s cock. Your mouth damn near waters.

Minho must notice because before you know it, he has shifted his attention to you, leaning up and over you to press an open-mouthed kiss to your lips before peppering more down the column of your throat. He hums appreciatively, taking his time running his tongue over every inch of your skin until he reaches your breasts, sucking a deep red mark in the valley between them before latching his mouth onto your nipple and sucking so hard your back arches off the bed. Jisung next to you moans softly, one hand loosely wrapped around himself as he watches with hungry eyes.

“Always so fucking perfect,” Minho whispers, his tongue laving over your sensitive bud while his fingers are untying the strings on your pants with care, “so fucking perfect for me.”

He looks up at you through hooded eyes, and something in his eyes makes you ache. Your hand finds his hair, scraping your nails over his sensitive scalp in the way you know drives him mad, and his eyelids flutter beautifully. His eyes dart over to Jisung, and he smirks around you, rucks your pants down enough so he can bury his fingertips in your soaked folds, spreading the wetness around just shy of where you need him the most.

“So perfect for us, hm, Jisung?”

Jisung tightens his fist on his cock with a mewl and nods. He looks at you. A strand of his wavy brown hair is plastered to his forehead. You reach up to brush it away. He follows the action like he’s mesmerised.

“Our captain,” he mumbles, and Minho’s finger finally presses down on your clit, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Jisung watches with rapt attention as you whimper, brows furrowing, eyes struggling to stay open, stay staring into Jisung’s own.

“Fuck,” Jisung whispers, and you smile. Jisung blinks.

“I need to feel you, Jisung, Jisungie,” you mumble, another moan clawing its way out of your throat when Minho rubs you just so, “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

Jisung’s jaw falls open needily, his hand tightening on himself. More precum pearls out of his pretty cock, drips down his shaft.

“Please, let me,” he whimpers, “God, I want it so bad– fuck, my captain … you sound so wet …”

And you do, Minho’s fingers having done a thorough job of spreading your slick all over your folds, but so does Jisung, the wet sound of his hand working over his cock mixing with the way your cunt squelches when Minho slides his fingers into you so lewd it makes your head spin. When Minho leans in and attaches his lips to your clit, you moan out pathetically loudly.

“Is that what you want, Jisung?” Minho mumbles, the vibrations of his lips against your clit making you mewl. “You want to fuck your captain?” You bury your fingers in his hair, tug so hard you know it must hurt. But you also know he loves it. He groans prettily, his breath coming out in short bursts, as he carefully, maddeningly slowly fucks one finger into you, then two, seemingly more to keep busy than to get either of you any closer to anything. It drives you crazy.

Jisung blushes a deep pink, the colour spreading down the sculpted swell of his chest.

“Want you to fuck me, too, Minho,” he mumbles, “couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

Minho chuckles darkly. Jisung bats his eyelashes, twists his hand meanly on his cock and moans.

“You’re so fucking big, want to feel you inside of me so badly,” he slurs.

Minho reaches out, wraps his fingers around Jisung’s wrist and tugs his hand away from his cock, making Jisung mewl out at the loss, pouting at Minho. But the pout melts from his lips, dissolves into a hiccup and a moan, when Minho pulls his mouth away from you, wraps his hand around Jisung’s cock and suckles the head between his lips.

Minho’s hand is still between your legs, his fingers working you open as if his mouth isn’t busy swallowing Jisung down so hard his eyes roll into the back of his head with a choked moan. You watch Minho, watch how his eyes glint with something that can only be described as greed, his eyes on Jisung when he swallows around him, on you when he crooks his fingers, hips barely perceptibly rutting into the bed beneath him. Your breath catches in your throat. He’s getting off on this.

You make up your mind then, giving Minho a smirk as you gently pull his fingers from you. He glares at you and puts up a fight, but he goes pliant under your hands, moans prettily as soon as you get up, kick your pants and shoes off your body and smooth your palms over Minho’s back.

You hum softly, in response, fingers dipping underneath the fabric to trail over the sensitive skin of his back, over to the front, the muscles in his stomach jumping with every shudder of his body. He sinks his head further down, and Jisung chokes out a groan.

“I won’t– I won’t last,” Jisung whines, fingers threading into Minho’s hair in a desperate effort to ground himself. “B-been so long since … hnnng anyone has touched me … like this.”

“How?” you ask breathlessly, gaze glued to his writhing body, his rippling stomach. He chokes out another moan, one that sounds almost like a sob.

“Don’t make me say it …”

He sounds so wrecked, it makes you dizzy with want. Your hungry hands slide down over Minho’s clothed cock where it’s hot and leaking and so fucking tempting. You waste no time, palming him gently, but hard enough that his hips buck into your hand wantonly, like he usually only does when he’s extra needy. You slip past his waistband and take him into your palm. The fact that having both of you underneath him, having Jisung’s cock in his mouth is getting him that riled up, makes you feel insane.

Jisung’s hips jump off the bed, and he hiccups out another moan.

“Fuck, fuck,” he breathes out before the confession tumbles out of his mouth helplessly. “Like you care how I feel, like you want to make me feel good, like you care about me, oh god, Minho, I’m .. I’m gonna … like you l-love me …”

The last words peter out into a desperate sob, and you don’t think he’s even aware he said them when his body locks up and his hips stutter up, and he releases into Minho’s hot, ready mouth. Minho’s cock pulses into your hands, and he fucks into the tight fist you’re offering for him erratically as he swallows Jisung’s orgasm, and then he halts, groans, low and deep in his chest, and cums, spilling ropes of hot and sticky all over your fist and into his pants.

Jisung’s words echo in your head while you stroke Minho through his orgasm, when you pull your hand from him, wipe it on his pants, your guts swirling with warmth and apprehension. It’s not a word you use. It’s not a word you’ve dared to speak since you said, “I love you, too, Dad” for the last time. Never even said it to your mother again. And you know she knew. Until you couldn't anymore. It’s not a word you let yourself use, not even in your head, not even when you think of Minho, though you know, deeply, irrevocably, despite everything, despite how hard you try, that what you feel for him goes so far beyond physical.

And despite everything that happened to him, despite everything the world has done to him, the word had just … tumbled out of Jisung’s mouth.

You wonder what Minho feels – if his own sudden release had something to do with that one little word. You wonder if Minho could ever love you. Or … if he could love Jisung. Find in him something that you couldn’t provide him. The kraken, so blissfully, remarkably quiet so far, stirs uncomfortably in your chest. Your vision is tightening, and you’re wondering how you can somehow escape the oppressing heat of the room when Minho gets up. He turns to you cups your face in his hands, his eyes hazy and soft, a devastatingly handsome smirk on his face, before he rubs his nose against yours and kisses you, softly, sweetly. It’s easy to get lost in, to let yourself get lost in the way his thumbs brush your cheekbones, his tongue maps out every inch of your mouth, the taste of Jisung still on his lips.

Gently, he licks into your mouth, turns you around, guides you onto the bed, parting from you only long enough to pull off his shirt, shove down his soiled pants, and you can barely get a glimpse of his body, his beautiful, strong, familiar body, before he kisses you again, his hands reverently sliding over your skin. And then there’s a second pair of hands joining him, smoothing up your thigh, and a second pair of lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder, and it’s hard to feel anything but warmth and heat and them.

“Let me taste you,” Jisung whispers into your skin, trailing his hot wet lips up your shoulder, up your neck and his breath is searingly hot on the shell of your ear. “You’re one orgasm down, we can’t have that. Let me taste you, please? I want it so bad.”

Minho hums in agreement.

“Let’s see how many times you can make her cum while I open you up.”

Twice, it turns out, is how often Jisung can make you cum with his tongue alone.

He’s a sinful sight, face flushed and messy with your slick, eyes half closed and glazed over as he rubs his tongue all over you with an enthusiasm you have never felt before. He’s messy, lapping up his own spit and your arousal from your pussy with fucked out little hums and moans, fucking his tongue inside of you so deeply, so deftly, you see stars. His technique is not so much technique as a desperation to make you feel good and to feel you everywhere, all at once, in turn, licking inside of you and massaging your clit and nipping at your inner thighs all at the same time, the vibrations of his moans from where Minho is steadily fucking his fingers into his hole driving you closer and closer to the edge.

He moans when you cum and grind against his face, mumbling expletives and fucked out pleas into you, dribbles precum into the sheets when you wrap your legs around his head and he can barely breathe as he steadily works you through your overstimulation and pulls the next one out of you with the help of his fingers buried deep inside you, rubbing the calloused pads of his fingers against your sweet spot. By the time you come down, you’re trembling, can barely think straight with pleasure and have to push him away before he goes for another.

Minho chuckles darkly, smoothes his palms over Jisung’s ass sweetly before giving it a spank. Jisung whimpers, keens into his touch. Minho’s eyes bore into yours.

“Good boy,” he praises Jisung as he stares at you and Jisung preens, smiles dazedly as ruts his ass back into Minho’s soft touches. “Are you ready to get your reward?”

Jisung moans, shakes his head.

“I … I wanna feel you … both,” he whines and Minho blinks twice, before he groans deeply, his hand shooting down to grab his own cock. Jisung, unaware of the effect he has, screws his eyes shut, blushes deeply. “’s so greedy, I know, but I’ve wanted you for so long, I need you both.”

His neediness, his openness, the way he stares at you with a deep blush and such big, needy, eyes when he finally blinks them open – it’s so new to you, so unlike the way you and Minho have been fucking, but it’s not bad. God, it’s not bad. It’s maddeningly, all-consumingly beautiful. Endearing. So hot it makes your stomach turn. Jisung, in all his naked, honeyed beauty, made you feel so warm, so trusted, so … entirely and unequivocally wanted.

You sit up, cup Jisung’s face, tuck a strand of errant hair behind his ear. You watch him blink at you with wide eyes, all innocence, and shock, before you pull him in for a kiss so tender it hurts you. He makes a high sound in the back of his throat, his lips going pliant against yours, letting you take what you need from him, as if you’re not trying to give him everything you could.

You can’t do it for long, the ache of your heart, the threat of the kraken too strong to withstand it when he kisses you back just as tenderly. A helpless little sigh, a press of his nose into your cheek, a soft hand on your thigh, and you pull back, peck his cheek sweetly. Minho is staring at you, his face utterly unreadable. You brush it off, turn around, get on all fours in front of Jisung.

Minho moans lowly, a noise so guttural you know he’s doing his best to try to keep it together, but he’s failing spectacularly.

Jisung scoots closer, breathes out a breathless string of praises as he places his hands on your waist, presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. Minho murmurs something you can barely make out, and then Jisung’s velvety, hard cock brushes against your thigh. Jisung’s arms come to cage you in, warm, soft chest folding over your back, his breath on your neck.

There’s no way for you to know what’s happening behind you, only Jisung’s breath and the small noises he makes to go by, and somehow that makes it all even hotter.

When Jisung tenses against your back, lets his head fall against your spine, all you can do is imagine what he must look like while Minho is sinking himself into him. His cock brushes against your skin again, and you’re dizzy with want.

“God, so fucking tight, Jisung,” Minho mumbles softly, brokenly, so familiarly, and Jisung whimpers. “So fucking good.”

An involuntary, frustrated whine fights its way out of your throat and Minho chuckles, but there’s barely any of his usual cockiness in it. He leans further into you, and it takes you a second to realise it’s his hand that guides Jisung’s cock until his head is pushing against your entrance, head almost breaching you, tantalisingly close to what you really want.

Jisung’s arms are shaking on either side of you, and he’s panting against your neck.

And then Minho slowly pushes all the way into Jisung and pushes him forwards, until Jisung’s cock finally slides into you, sinks into you inch by inch, and the noises it rips out of you and Jisung in tandem are filthy. Minho curses out weakly, digs his fingers into your skin where he’s holding onto you. You can feel his resolve crumbling with every second.

Jisung feels heavenly inside of you, filling you up perfectly, hot and thick to the brim, just a little bit of a stretch. But it’s nothing compared to when Minho starts fucking into him, rutting Jisung’s cock deep into you with every thrust. When Jisung bottoms out entirely, kisses your womb, your arms wobble, and you nearly fold into the sheets, but Jisung’s own shaky arm winds around your waist, holds you up and against him.

“Hm … don’t” he slurs, his breath punched out of him when Minho fucks into him hard, “wann’ feel you.”

So you try to stay upright, for him, but also for the slick, grounding slide of his chest against your back, the sweet noises he pants into your neck. His moans are melodic, divine, every hitch of his breath next to your ear makes you gush around him more.

Minho fucks Jisung harder, makes him mewl, his arm tightens around your waist, his fingers digging into your stomach, and it pulls you up enough for the head of Jisung’s cock to hit your womb over and over and over again, pleasure and pain mingling and shooting through your body until you can feel the tingling all the way in your toes.

Your body is so, so sensitive after your two previous orgasms, and it feels so, so good, and it’s all so much it makes your grip on reality slip, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. You whimper out pathetically when the first tear falls, your cunt clenching around Jisung so hard he bucks into you with a hiccupped moan, cursing and moaning wildly. You hear Minho curse out behind you, and then his hands find your waist, holding you steady, holding you in place, and it only drives Jisung deeper and that’s it.

Your back arches, your head falls backwards onto Jisung’s shoulder, you sob, and you fall over the edge, gushing wetness around Jisung’s cock that’s still steadily being driven so deeply into you, you have trouble breathing. Tears are streaming down your cheeks and Jisung whimpers, moans, kisses your shoulders, does his best to hold on, to hold you, to fuck you through it.

As soon as he feels you go slack, he gently lets down so you can collapse onto the bed, pulls himself from your cunt and lets Minho pull him up against his chest. Jisung wraps his free hand around his own cock, and he only pumps twice before he cums with wail, ropes of his spend shooting over your ass and back, clenching around Minho so hard that he follows only a second later, grinding himself in deep with a string of curses and praises as he unloads into Jisung.

You’re boneless, barely aware of the sounds around you, the sticky mess on your back. Jisung collapses next to you with a huff, his hand reaching for yours as he catches his breath, fingers lacing into yours again, just like they did in the tavern, one of his rings cold against your overheating skin. You shiver. You distantly feel Minho wipe at your back, hear him say your name, before you’re tucked into the sheets, pulled into Jisung’s chest, before Minho’s warm, familiar, naked body slides under the sheets, wraps around your back. You fall asleep as soon as he does, with your face smushed into Jisung’s chest, where he’s already snoring next to you.

When Jisung returns to his and Felix’ cabin in the late afternoon of the following day, he half expects Felix to be there, already waiting to interrogate him on where he was last night, why he left with the captain, what on earth he was thinking – but their cabin is empty.

Everything is as he left it, Felix’s bed neat and pretty, his own unmade, sheets still crumpled how he left them before meeting the captain to go and get the maps decoded, a mere 24 hours earlier. 24 hours and so much has changed that he’s dizzy with it. The decoding of his uncle’s maps, the discovery of his murderous plot, one that would cost many people their life, the whole region its stability, the people any hope of changing governance. Finally, an opportunity for revenge, for the captain, but also for him, and for everyone else.

And then … the night.

He still doesn’t know what gave him the confidence to approach her, to touch her, to touch Minho, to open himself, lay himself bare at their feet, telling them how much he wanted them. He doesn’t know if it was the absinthe, or the way the captain’s hazy eyes were dragging over his face, how Minho kept sneaking him glances, gaze snagging on his body. And he hadn’t expected anything to come of it, if anything, he’d banked on them rejecting him,= and hopefully forgetting it ever happened.

But no, Minho had looked at it him with so much heat in his dark, predatory eyes that he nearly sank to his knees right there. And the captain – God, her fluttering eyelids, soft, hazy gazes, silky skin and plump, sweet lips.

He will never forget the way his heart was beating out of his chest when he kissed her for the first time, world hazy with that green drink and the smell of her, rosemary and seawater and sweet, sweet love. His captain, the strongest person he had ever met, all intelligent eyes and mind-numbingly soft yet filthily demanding lips and sinfully soft body that she used with such confidence, indulged him in with so much trust. And Minho, sex on legs, so scary it made him hard, with his surprisingly soft and caring and talented hands and his beautiful, huge fucking cock that made him cum so hard he saw stars.

Jisung isn’t one to sleep around. He doesn’t need to pretend that this isn’t what it is for him. He likes them; is drawn to them like he hasn’t been drawn to anyone before. And he’s long past wondering how he can feel that kind of attraction to both of them. How could he, when their bodies melted together like they did last night.

Through the porthole, he sees the sun where it’s starting to dip below the horizon, past the islands of the cove of Nassau, and realises that Felix probably needs help with dinner, painfully notices that he would’ve needed help with breakfast and lunch, too. He gets to his feet before he can start worrying about what he knows, makes his way to the kitchen, ambling along the hallways, and he can’t help but realise how good he feels. His body feels limber, warm, well taken care of, well fucked. He can’t tell if he wants to keep the feeling to himself or wants to scream it from the rooftops.

When he woke up that morning, it was to the captains body pressed against his back, her tits rubbing against his back, her hand trailing over his stomach, down past his happy trail until she took his half-hard cock into her hand and starting palming him, before she threw the sheets to the side and crawled between his legs. Minho had scooted over, pulled Jisung into a kiss that was beyond anything his wildest wet dreams could’ve conjured up, nipping at his bottom lip and swallowing his moans when the captain sank him into her hot, wet mouth. He had blown his load in record time, cumming much harder than he thought he would be able to after the night before, but the captain’s nails digging into his thighs, Minho’s fingers meanly twisting his sensitive nipples and the captain’s tongue working some kind of witchcraft on his cock made him fold easily.

But they didn’t seem to mind, the captain sliding up to kiss him with traces of his spend still on her tongue, whispering about how irresistible, how perfect he was, until he was dizzy. And then Minho dragged the captain back into the pillows, kissed her quick and dirty, much to Jisung’s cock’s delight, before he slid into her from behind, his cock tearing the most sinful, sigh from his captain’s lips. Minho fucked her lazily, slowly, indulgently, and Jisung had been unable to look away, his own cock already painfully hard again just from the beauty of them, intertwined, right in front of him. Jisung was helpless, followed blindly when captain breathed out his name like a prayer, dragging him closer. He pressed himself to her front, her soft skin sliding against his with every single one of Minho’s thrusts, and he had indulged, swallowing her moans with his mouth, his hand snaked between them to rub his cock against her clit, fingertips sliding down to rub where Minho was fucking into her until she came, creamy and wet, and all over both of them, so filthy and perfect that it pulled Jisung over the edge again, spilling all over her thighs and Minho’s cock when he pulled out and unloaded all over them.

Minho had gotten up without another word, left Jisung in bed with the captain, who calmly told him he was drawing them a bath when she noticed him fidget. And for an anxious second, Jisung had to fight with the knowledge that this was normal for them, that they did this often, they belonged together and he – was an intruder. He felt their tenderness, and he felt like they were all on the same page, but what if that was not what they thought after all. What if he was a temporary distraction, a one-night fling, something to spice things up, before they dropped him as soon as he left the room. But then the captain pulled him in with those same achingly solid, confident, and beautiful hands and kissed him lazily, willing him out of his head and right into her pliant warmth. And she kept kissing him, protesting so heartbreakingly in the back of her throat when he so much as slightly pulled back, and he could do nothing but succumb, lips trailing over skin, sucking bruises and laving tongues, until his lips were swollen and raw and his heart beating in his throat with the sheer magnitude of what he was feeling.

It was clear that whatever the captain and Minho had, was more than sex, whether they labelled it as such or not. They never said it, of course, but it was clear as day in the way they looked at each other, in the way Minho always checked in with her, in the way she touched him, pulled him close, almost like she needed his contact to survive.

He didn’t fully understand why they hesitated, when their love was so beautifully obvious to everyone around them, but he would give them time. He just hoped they would figure it out before they could shatter his own heart into a million pieces. But somewhere along the lines, Jisung seemed to have lost his own sense of self-preservation because he realised he would let them, just for the chance to have them like this, however long he could.

Jisung sends a tentative wave to some of his crew-mates in the living area as he passes, one they return lazily, passing a bottle of rum back and forth, presumably to nurse their way through the worst of their hangover.

The mess and the kitchen are suspiciously quiet as he makes his way in. Jisung assumed he would find Felix in the middle of prep, maybe peeling potatoes or cutting up some other vegetables, but when he opens the door, he is faced with four of his friends, eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed in front of them.

Felix front and centre, his eyes furrowed into an expression of disapproval, Chan behind him, scowling in disappointment. Hyunjin was to the side, his head in his hands, as he observed Jisung without a smile. Seungmin sits on a stool, his iron glare boring into Jisung’s soul.

“Wha-,” Jisung asks, but his voice gives out. His heart thumps uncomfortably against his ribcage. He clears his throat, tries again.

“What is this?”

Felix’ frown doesn’t budge. It freaks Jisung out more than anything else. It feels wrong.

“This is an intervention,” he states, simply, and Jisung blinks stupidly. “For you. Because you slept with the captain.”

Jisung’s mouth falls open, ungracefully. The words, spoken like that, burn. He wants to correct him, wants to yell at him, tell him that it was so much more, so much more than just “sleeping together” and so much more than what Felix could ever know. But Felix continues before Jisung can even finish the thought.

“And don’t even try to lie about it, I saw you two leave last night.”

The fact that denial didn’t even enter his mind makes anxiety slam into Jisung like a freight train. Chan straightens up behind Felix, shifts his weight, before he finally explodes.

“I talked to you about this just the other day, Jisung. I came to you, in full trust, and I asked you why you kissed him.”

Jisung blanches. They’re all looking at him. He feels their disapproval like a punch in the gut.

“Yes, I told them, but only after you left with her last night. But the point is – I asked you not to pursue Minho, I told you that they have a thing going on, something that goes much deeper than we all probably know. And you said nothing would happen, and now what? You sleep with her?!”

Felix places a calming hand on Chan’s arm and he deflates. The pots are already boiling on the stove, Jisung notes. Seems like they planned this thoroughly. He feels like he might be sick.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” Seungmin pipes up, getting to his feet slowly, calmly. His voice is as steady as ever. “Is this some kind of fucked up game you’re playing? Are you maybe still in your uncle’s pocket after all? Are you trying to take us down by destroying the foundation of our entire crew?”

Jisung makes a strangled sound, somewhere between a cough and an undignified squeal. It’s pathetic, and he hates himself for it so much he wants to throw up.

“Seungmin!” Hyunjin exclaims, and glares at the younger man. Seungmin just shrugs.

“Why beat around the bush?”

Hyunjin shakes his head and gets up, walks over to Jisung. Jisung notices how his eyes drag over his neck, and he suddenly feels very self-conscious, feels the drag of the captain’s lips against his skin still, feels his heartbeat in a bruise Minho sucked right below his jaw.

“Jisung, we don’t think you’re lying to us, okay?” Hyunjin reassures him, and he looks like he could be telling the truth, at least.

“But,” he continues, carefully, eyeing Jisung like he might explode any second. And he might. “you have to understand – we don’t know why else you would be … doing this. Going after the captain’s partner, then the captain herself. And now sleeping with her?! Do you have any idea what will happen when Minho finds out?!”

Hyunjin goes a little pale at the thought. He looks genuinely worried when he whispers the next words. “He’ll kill you.”

The implication, how wrong all of this is, finally pushes Jisung out of his stupor. He opens his mouth, tries to find the words, loses his courage. He wills his heartbeat back into his chest. Fixes his gaze on the floor.

“You … you don’t understand,” he mumbles lamely, and he hears Chan scoff. But Hyunjin steps closer, places a supportive hand on his shoulder.

“Try us. Maybe we can.”

“Hyunjin,” Felix says sharply, “we talked about this.”

But Hyunjin just fixes him with a glare before turning back to Jisung. Jisung feels suffocated under their eyes, the fading bites on his skin, the phantom of the pleasure still in his bones, it’s too much.

“I didn’t sleep with the captain,” he exclaims, and flinches, ”well, I did, but …”

“What the fuck?!” Chan barks, and Jisung flinches. He steels himself, and faces his angry face, all their angry, disbelieving faces. He lifts his hands defensively, hides behind them because he’s … scared, he realises.

“Let me finish. I did sleep with her, but I promise, it won’t be a problem, okay? Because … because,” it’s like the whole room is holding its breath waiting for him to drop the bomb. Then he realises it’s just him, and finally exhales. Shakily.

“… because Minho was there, too.”

Silence. Deafening silence.

Hyunjin takes a surprised step back, ogles him with wide eyes. Chan breathes out a quiet what?!, and even Seungmin looks shocked. “What do you mean Minho was there?” Felix asks, incredulous. Jisung blushes even harder. His face feels like it’s about to go up in flames. His chest like it will cave in. He thinks he might not make it through this conversation.

“Well, he was there. But not just … I mean, he was also … uhh … involved, so to speak …”

Everyone is still staring at him, so he just sighs loudly, throwing his arms up in defeat. Anxiety makes him stupid sometimes.

“We all fucked, okay? I fucked the captain, Minho fucked me, he fucked her, he sucked me off, I ate her out, …”

All four of them yell almost in unison, Chan trying to cover his ears, Seungmin squeezing his eyes shut.

“Well, fuck you! You asked!” he yells indignantly, irritation bubbling in his guts. This was really messing up his post-best-night-of-his-entire-life glow.

“You’re not fucking with us?” Felix asks, and Jisung shakes his head. Out in the living area they hear Minho’s loud voice yell something, and Hyunjin looks at Jisung, then at the door, and before he Jisung can stop him, he darts out. He returns moments later, dragging a confused, slightly irritated Minho behind him. When his eyes fall on Jisung, they do something that Jisung had never seen before. A softening, a glimmer of familiarity. It’s breathtaking. Jisung almost makes the mistake of smiling at him like a lovesick fool. But he catches himself.

“Minho, we need you to be honest with us. What did you do last night?” Felix asks, sombrely, but much softer than he was to Jisung. Jisung bristles, turns to Minho.

“They ambushed me to confront me about last night, and they refuse to believe what you were there,” he explains, and Minho’s face goes from confused, to angry, to stony. Then he slowly turns to Felix, nails him with a glare so utterly dark, Jisung doesn’t know how Felix can stand it. But he does.

“What did I tell you about speculating about the captain and my private life? And what did I say I would do to you if you told other people about your theory?”

If Felix is intimidated, he’s hiding it well. He tosses his head.

“We’ve all long known that something is going on between you and the captain, and your secret is safe with us. Nobody beyond this room knows, and none of them will learn of this conversation. We just want to make sure nobody is fucking with our captain.”

Minho stares at him for a little longer.

“Nobody beyond this room?”

Felix shakes his head.

“Nobody beyond this room knows what we’re talking to Jisung about, and nobody will know.”

Minho nods, freezes for a second, blinks. Then an almost eery, slightly evil smile stretches across his lips. Felix, to Jisung’s satisfaction, finally looks a little bit uncertain.

Minho half turns to Jisung, fixes him with a look that makes a shiver run down Jisung’s spine.

“In that case,” he muses, “Jisungie’s not lying. He was with me and the captain last night.”

Jisungie. Jisung’s heart skips a beat.

And before he knows what’s happening, Minho takes two steps towards him, easily tips his head up with his thumb and kisses Jisung, right there, right in front of them. Jisung’s eyes widen before they slip shut, and he melts into it. Minho licks into his mouth, practised, almost sweetly, and altogether way too filthily for the situation they find themselves in. Jisung knows it’s to punish them. He kisses him back dirtier. Minho smiles against his lips. He’s already aching with need all over again.

But Minho pulls back much too quickly, leaving Jisung dazed and sobering and blushing and entirely unable to meet anyone else’s eyes.

“That clear things up?” Minho asks, looking straight at them, sickeningly sweetly, his hand still cupping Jisung’s face. He doesn’t even wait for their response before he turns on his heels and stomps out of the kitchen. Jisung wishes he could just follow him, but he has to face the music.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin says softly, hesitantly comes closer again. He places his hands on his shoulders, but Jisung’s patience is at its limit. He brushes Hyunjin off, ignores the latter’s pained grimace.

“Why do you always assume I’m lying?” he asks, indignation thick in his voice. The faces looking back at him are surprised, Hyunjin just looks guilty.

“No matter what I do, you always think I’m trying to sell you out. Last time with Minho, now with this. Why are you so dead set on the fact that I’m going to betray you, when I have done nothing to make you think that?! I keep telling you that I’m on your side, I kill my uncle’s men right in front of you, I help the captain and Minho formulate a plan to take him down and then … I come back here and the first thought you have when I just … do what I want to do, is that I’m, somehow, trying to sell you out?! What the fuck?!”

He feels a familiar tightness in his chest and the way Chan avoids his eyes, the way Hyunjin grimaces at him, it only makes him angrier.

“Just say you don’t fucking trust me and be done with it. But that means what I do and who I fuck is none of your goddamn business.” And with those words, he turns around and stomps out of the room. Nobody even calls after him.

He pretends to be asleep later that night, when Felix turns in for the night. He’s later than usual, Jisung can tell from the position of the moon he’s been staring at for the last few hours as he has willed the warmth, the pleasure back into his body, where it had been displaced by cold shame. He hasn’t been very successful. He could’ve gone back to Minho and the captain, but he couldn’t bring himself to. If they rejected him now he might do something stupid. He still might, because the thought of them, together, as they always have been, happy and sweet and without him, as they always fucking have been, sends him spiralling into territory he would rather not go.

But now Felix is here, changing out of his clothes quietly. Jisung knows he’s late because Jisung wasn’t there to help with clean-up. He knows it’s petty, but he thinks it’s only fair.

When Felix has changed out of his clothes, he doesn’t climb up to his cot immediately, like he usually does. He wavers, before he gingerly sits on Jisung’s bed.

Jisung can’t swallow down the scoff he makes. Felix doesn’t take the bait. Jisung wishes he did. Anger would be easier.

“I think it’s because nobody around here has ever been as honest as you,” Felix finally murmurs. He sounds apologetic. He hesitates for a moment, as if to see if Jisung will interrupt him. But Jisung stays stubbornly silent.

“The likes of us usually don’t go around wearing our hearts on our sleeve like you do. Even when we’re on someone’s side, we play our cards close to our chest. Because you never know, you know? It takes a lot for us to trust someone. Because we all got fucked over one too many times by people we thought we could trust”

Jisung stays still, lets Felix’ words wash over him.

“But you …” Felix continues, and lets out a weak little laugh, “you walked in that first day, and you seemed to have already decided that you would trust us. You gave us your story and told us you’d be ready to turn against not just the governor, but your own family and … well, nobody else has ever just been like that. It almost felt … too good to be true.”

Jisung clamps his mouth shut. He doesn’t want to give Felix the satisfaction of arguing with him again. Not after everything else has been used against him.

“But that’s not your fault, is it,” Felix murmurs, and Jisung can’t help it any more. He turns around, sits up, stares at Felix. Puffy eyes and bruised neck and shame and all. Felix looks away, fixes his eyes on the floor. “I think it’s admirable. It’s … it’s why I like you so much. I’m pretty sure it’s why the captain likes you, and Minho, too. Scratch that, it’s why everyone has been so immediately taken with you. You are so easy to love, so easy to trust, we’re just all … hurt and jaded and in pain …”

“So am I, though …” Jisung mumbles and Felix huffs out a small, humourless laugh. He places his warm hand on Jisung’s leg. Jisung hates how much the touch soothes him. Felix gives him a sad little smile.

“Well, then you’re doing a hell of a job loving regardless.”

Jisung doesn’t entirely know what that means, but he doesn’t ask. After a beat of silence, Felix speaks again.

“What I’m trying to say is that we’re sorry, I’m sorry. The thing is, we do trust you, deep down, more than we would anyone else considering how long we’ve known you, and we love that you’re part of the crew because you added so much. Maybe that’s why the idea of you turning on us now is extra painful. It would shatter a lot of our trust, again, and, like I said, we’re already bad at that. Trusting people.”

He squeezes Jisung’s thigh one more time, before he gets up. Jisung misses it. Felix hesitates in front of his bed, fiddles with the hem of his pyjama shirt, avoiding Jisung’s eyes.

“Can I ask, though … If you didn’t sleep with the captain and Minho to break them apart, why did you sleep with them?”

Jisung stares at him, feels his face heat up. His chest aches where his heart is threatening to break.

“Because I wanted to,” he says quietly, eyes falling to the patchwork of his sheet, plucking at a stray piece of string.

“Do you … I mean, is it just fun or … do you like them?” Felix asks, and Jisung huffs out a humourless laugh.

“I really like them. Both of them. Like, way more than I should.”

Felix hums, but Jisung doesn’t dare look up. The silence he’s met with hurts. Feels portentous.

“Be careful, Jisung, with your heart,” Felix finally says. It’s small. Quiet. “When I say we’re bad at trust, I mean we can also be pretty bad at that kind of thing. Love. We don’t usually get to have that any more. We usually think we … don’t deserve it.”

Jisung feels his words like tiny little knives stabbing him in his chest. Outwardly he just nods and Felix looks at him, sighs, and turns to climb up to his cot.

“Okay, enough lecturing. I’m sorry, Jisung, I really am. And I trust you. I’m glad you found us.”

He already has one foot on the ladder when Jisung manages to breathe out his name.

“Felix?”

“Hm?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Felix chuckles, light and airy, and it makes some of the weight from Jisung’s heart dissolve into the night.

“Of course, silly,” he says and lunges onto Jisung’s bed, tackling him to the mattress. Jisung squeals, yells, pretends to shove Felix off, but the warm weight of him, his hair, soft and still smelling like plum pudding, it’s all he needs.

They wrestle and yell until Changbin slams his fist into the wall and yells at them to shut up.

< chapter VII - chapter IX (coming: friday, may 3, 3pm CET) >

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@caitlyn98s @straystays2345 @3rachasninja @maximumkillshot @sungprotector

@stayconnecteed @mellhwang @chlodavids @kookiesbunny @noellllslut

@warren-thedarkangel @kidrauhlschik @anyhow-everything @krishastumblernow @cutiespaghetti

@hobi-szn @usagi---mochi @stolasisyourparent @steadysuitenthusiast @queen-in-the-shadows

@ayoitschannie @starsandrqindrops @redstayrosie @vitrealisbunny @seukijeuxq

@bakedlilgoonie @bookworm731 @jazziwritesthings @katsukis1wife @minhos4thkitty

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@gimmeurtmi @ashareeboobear @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @staysinbloom @f1wh0r3

@mnwrld @linocz @linosssss

This chapter was so good 🥹 I can’t wait for next week!!

All Bark and No Bite- 16

Masterlist /Series masterlist

Chan x reader (y/n) x ot8

ABO!Nonidol!SKZ Alternate Universe

Previous - Next

Chapter warnings: Fem/Afab reader, kinda smut, kissing, bathing together, cursing, crying, pet names, fluff. Really not much for this chapter but lemme know if i missed anything important.

WC: 6.2k

Not gonna lie, this is kind of a filler chapter. But I hope yall enjoy nonetheless :)

The rumbling that escaped out of Jeongins chest as he pumped you full would have been off putting to anyone around. They would have found the emittance to be dangerous- vicious almost- and possessive, with how deep and gravely the growl was as he bit into the tender flesh of your shoulder for the second time today. Having spent nearly three days with the young Alpha you knew well enough by now that he was nearing control over himself once again as he finished inside of you, the growl more of a warning he had cum. 

He let your used and bruised body slump into the sheet below you, your arms acting as a pillow under your head. Jeongin draped himself over you, pressing you further into the bed. His knot was still locked tightly inside of you and with each movement from him it rubbed against the sore walls of your core. 

The alpha laid wet kisses along your spine after he licked away the blood from his final claim on you. In total over his rut he had bitten into you eight times, in varying places all over your body. You could imagine you looked like you were mauled by a wild animal, though that wouldn’t be far from the reality. 

“I think it’s finally over, baby.” Jeongin breathed into your ear from above. He had a lightness in his voice you hadn’t heard since before his rut started. “I feel the effects lifting from me as if I can breathe again.”

“M’ so glad, Innie.” You murmured, the pure exhaustion you felt was coming through you clearly. “Now you can be comfortable again.” 

He cooed at you, “Oh omega, you sweet baby. I’m more happy for you. You have been so so good to me the last few days, taking everything I gave you with no complaints, letting me take whatever I needed from your precious body.”  He nuzzled into your neck and hair as he felt his knot begin to deflate. You both grunted as he slowly pulled out of you. His copious amount of cum was seeping out of you and onto the already soiled bed. With how much cum, blood, and sweat was covering it Jeongin knew it would be better to just toss it out at this point. “I can’t express how much it means to me- how much you mean to me. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and to our family.” 

You knew it was his post nut clarity that was making him sappy, but you couldn’t stop the sniffles that left you. “Innie… I feel the same way about you and everyone in this pack. You’re my family now and I love you guys.” You strained your neck over to kiss him and he returned the gesture. 

“Even Minho?” He teased, giggling when you rolled your eyes. 

“Hmpf.” You felt your cheeks heat, “Yes, even Minho” You threw a finger at his face menacingly “But don’t you dare say anything!” 

He laughed harder and pulled you closer, kissing your nose. “My lips are sealed. Buuuut, I’m not so sure about the gremlin who's listening outside the door as we speak.” He raised his voice slightly for the last part of his sentence . “You’re not slick, you Pabo! I could smell you from down the hall!”

Your mouth was agape when you heard a shriek- that sounded suspiciously like Jisung- coming from the other side of the door and then the scuff of scurrying feet. “I didn’t even know he was there!” 

Jeongin hauled himself off the bed with a hearty laugh, “He’s been doing that since day one. He comes around periodically, most likely to check on you to make sure I hadn’t eaten you alive. The whole pack does it. You seriously couldn’t tell?” 

You shook your head as you slowly arose from your laid position, wincing when you felt the throb between your legs. “Uh uh, I didn’t notice at all.” 

“I guess I did have you a little… preoccupied.” He had a smirk on his face as if he was proud of himself. “My senses were in overdrive so it made it easier to smell and hear them. My alpha instincts were on a constant high alert.” 

You nodded, “That makes sense. I felt similarly when I was in heat.” You could still feel the pooling liquid seeping out of you, the now coolness of it was making you grimace. “Since your rut is ending, do you think we could please go take a bath? The last few rounds have left me kinda.. Sticky.” 

“Oh yeah!” He slipped off the bed and found a pair of shorts somewhere amongst the wreckage of his room. He put them on and returned back to your side. “Come on, baby. Lemme carry you.” You lifted your weak arms up to him as he bent to scoop you into his hold and you wrapped them around his neck. 

He walked out of his room freely for the first time in a few days. All the other times you had to make sure the coast was clear and that no other pack members were on the same floor. Innies possessiveness and alpha aggression when he was in a rut was on another level so the young alpha generally tried to avoid leaving the room during that time anyways. Thankfully it was not the same for you. During his moments of rest and clarity you had been able to exit the room for bathroom breaks and food. The pack members always greeted you with gentle kisses as they assessed you and you had to assure them you were ok. Innie was particularly rough in his fucking of you after you came back, though; the scent of the other boys on your skin driving him crazy. 

“Wait! Should I put something on? I’m still naked..” You trailed off, biting your lip. 

Jeongin chuckled, “It’s nothing most of them haven’t seen before at this point, baby. Plus we’ll get you some clean pjs after you're all cleaned up.” 

Jeongin carried you into the bathroom and set you on the counter while he went to start heating the water and filling the tub. You watched as he found a few different bottles of bubble bath, and giggled quietly when he opened each one and smelled it before he decided on one he deemed acceptable.

While the tub filled you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t seen your reflection since this morning so you were anticipating seeing the new marks that had been left. You gasped lightly when your eyes found all the dark marks and bites left on your body. Innie really did a number on you, he was unable to control many of his urges when it came to claiming your body. You poked and prodded at a particularly deep bite wound on the side of your left breast. 

‘That's gonna be sore for weeks.’ You thought as you poked. 

“I think that one is my favorite.” Jeongins voice startled you as he rested his head on your shoulder, looking into your eyes through the glass. He had a cheekiness in his tone. “Was my favorite place to bite you. So soft and tender.” He sighed wistfully, as if remembering the moment. 

“Yeah, tender enough that it’s going to take forever to heal.” You huffed, narrowing your eyes at him. 

He snorted, pulling back. “You’re one to talk. Look at this monster you gave me!” He tilted his head to show you his neck that he had asked you to bite into the previous day. His skin was marred and dark red, showing just how deep your teeth had buried into his flesh. “Stings like a bitch now. But it’s ok, I kinda like it.” He grinned and gave you a clumsy wink.  

You laughed and shoved him playfully, “Ok mister masochist, help me into the tub please.” He obliged your request and hauled you into his arms once more before he lowered you into the heated water. Your head fell back with a deep sigh as you relaxed into the tub. He has chosen a lavender scented soap that was divine. Innie stepped in and settled himself directly behind you. He then leaned your back against his chest, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “Mm this is nice.” 

He hummed in return, leaning over to grab a washcloth. He dipped the cloth into the water then pulled it up, giving it a squeeze to release the water inside. The alpha lovingly ran the cloth over your neck and shoulders, wiping away the remaining blood and saliva. Then once your top half was wiped clean he brought the cloth back down into the heated water, then gently to your core. Your breath hitched when he made contact with your folds. “Shhh baby, I know it hurts. Lemme clean you up, ok?” He whispered reassuringly in your ear. 

You let go of the breath you didn’t know you were holding, trying not to close your legs to keep him from touching you where you were most sensitive right now. He continued his slow and delicate ministrations while peppering kisses on your cheeks every time you let out a pained whimper. Eventually he finished his task, throwing the cloth onto the edge of the tub. Then he just let you rest in the still hot water.  

Sitting there in the tub was peaceful. Neither of you were talking anymore given how the fatigue was catching up to you both. It was nearing nightfall already, you could tell it was late evening by the setting sun casting in the small window. The lavender fragrance of the bath soap combined with the heat of the water was easing the tension in both of you. 

“Ya know, I haven’t had a bath in years.” Innie's voice startled you lightly, just as your eyes were about to droop. He laughed quietly when you jumped. “Sorry, baby. Just reminiscing, don't mind me.”

“Why haven’t you had a bath in so long? Do you not like them?” You asked, keeping yourself awake now. 

“I’ve never been a huge fan of sitting in hot water. Maybe my blood just runs hot. I also think it’s kinda boring. Just doing nothing in a tub. But right now I can honestly say I’m loving being here with you. I’m feeling very relaxed, and happy that I get to be with you.” He had a blush on his cheeks. 

“Aww Innie. You really are such a sweet boy.” Your heart swelled and you beamed at him. “ We can take baths together anytime you want.” You leaned up to kiss his jaw. 

“I’ll be taking you up on that offer, don’t you worry.” He kissed you back. 

“Can I cash in that offer too, baby?” 

You both looked up at the door being cracked open just slightly and a pouty face appearing, looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

“Hyunjin, what the fuck are you doing in here? Get out!” Jeongin groaned, annoyed now by the new presence. 

“No! It’s not fair! You’ve hogged her for days! I missed my baby!” The beta whined, his pout growing even bigger. “Plus you left the door unlocked so really this is your fault.” 

Jeongin scoffed, “You still got to see her everyday, your stink was all over her every time she came back to my room. And what about me?! Didn’t you miss me?!” He pulled you closer to his body, making the water slosh off the side of the tub.

“Of course I missed you, Innie. We all did.” Hyunjin replied with an eye roll. “But I’m not mated with you now am I? No, I’m claimed by my baby and now it’s my turn with her.” He skulked closer into the bathroom and grabbed the towel that was left on the counter. “So give her here.” He looked at the alpha expectantly as he held out his arms for you. 

Jeongin grumbled a whine, “Hyunnng you’re being so mean to me.” Still, he scooted you forward slightly so Hyunjin could grab you. Jeongin gave you a final kiss, “ I love you, I’ll see you in a while, baby.” He whispered to you before he handed you over to the beta. 

“Love you Innie.” You replied then let Hyunjin pull you from the tub and into his arms, where he promptly wrapped you in the big fluffy towel and whisked you out of the bathroom. 

Once you were out of the bathroom Hyunjin nuzzled into you with a purr as he carried you to your room. “Mm I missed you so much baby.” 

You giggled, his hair tickling your neck. “Missed you too Jinnie.” 

He set you gently on your bed as he ran the towel over your form, being mindful of the fresh bites and bruises. He bristled when you winced, “Sorry, love. Innie sure did a number on you, huh?” 

You gave a weak chuckle, “Yeah, he got a little rowdy. He always apologized afterwards so I don’t mind.” 

Hyunjin went into your wardrobe after he wiped you down and pulled out some pjs for you. He helped you dress even when you insisted on being able to do it yourself. “I wanna take care of you, baby. Let me help you.” You couldn’t deny him when he pouted like that, batting his eyelashes at you. 

He had put you in a tank top and panties, then he turned away to get you out some pj pants. That small distraction was all that was needed for the peeping tom at the door to spring in. Hyunjin screamed in surprise as Jisung swung the door open with a lightning quickness and launched for where you were seated on your bed. You yelped a laugh when he scooped you into his embrace. “Ahh Jisung! What are you doing?!” 

“Hi baby.” He grinned as he stood up now with you in his arms. He smooched you on the lips.He gave Hyunjin a glance “Sorry, gotta blast!” Then he sprinted out of the room, holding you.

“No! Jisung you asshole, I was having my time with her!” Hyunjin screeched as he chased the younger beta. Jisung was running down the hall towards the stairs cackling loudly. You were holding on for dear life, a nervous grin on your face. “Stop! I’m serious! It’s not fair!” 

“It’s my turn now! You had yours, I missed her too!” 

“I had a whole 6 minutes with her!” 

“Sucks to suck!”  Jisung had gotten down the stairs and had barely made it around the corner when he ran into another figure. Jisung nearly fell backwards at the impact. He ended up backing up into Hyunjin who had been right on his tail. 

Amidst the whole debacle, it was Changbin who grabbed you from Jisungs falling form. Jisung had run into him when he was coming to see what the commotion was. “What a pleasant surprise.” The alpha grinned. “Nice to see you, baby.” 

You giggled, letting him take you. “Hi Binnie.” You wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Changbin! Give her back, it's my turn.” Jisung whined like a child when he was able to set himself upright again. 

Hyunjin pushed him with a scoff, folding his arms. “You stole her from me, asshat. It’s my turn.” 

“Sucks to suck, right guys?” Changbin snickered, then turned and walked down the hall. 

“Boys I’m not a toy! There are no turns.” You protested from your place in Chanbins arms. Your pout was light; you couldn’t be mad at any of them for this game of toss around. You had missed them all so much, even though you saw them all briefly during the last few days. 

“Of course you're not a toy, baby. These young boys need to learn some manners when it comes to a beautiful woman.” Changbin threw a playfully dirty look behind him at the betas who trailed behind. 

“Are you gonna be the one to teach them, Binnie?” You teased, nuzzling into him. 

He flexed with you still in his hold, boasting of his strength. “Who better than a strong alpha like myself?” You laughed into his neck. “Take notes, boys.” 

Changbin carried you all the way through the house and out the back door onto the back patio. The outside string lights were on, illuminating the patio as the sun continued to fall further from view and the night settled in.  The grill was on and there were various plates of vegetables scattered around the table next to it. The air was hot and mildly humid. Summer was definitely here now.

 Leaning on the banister next to the grill was Chan and Minho. Chan's face lit up at the sight of you coming out the door. Minho couldn’t hide the twitch of his lips when he saw you, his delight peaking through. 

“There's my love. Was wondering when you would come down and join us.” Chan approached you and Changbin as the latter plopped down on the outdoor sofa with you in his lap. Chan cupped your cheek and leaned in close to you, rubbing noses with you. He gave you a gentle kiss with a smile. Changbin huffed in mild jealousy, pulling you even closer. “Oh come on Bin, our girl deserves all the love we can give. Why be stingy, hm?” Chan hummed with a laugh as he pulled back.

“Exactly!” Jisung came crashing down onto the furniture beside you on the right, grabbing onto your arm attempting to pull you away. “You read my mind, oh wonderful leader.” 

Hyunjin was the next to speak up. “ You literally stole her from me! If anyone is stingy it’s you Ji!” He stomped his foot petulantly before coming over and sitting on the left side and grabbing one of your legs.

All this tugging was starting to make your wounds hurt, so you tentatively and quietly tried to interject, “Umm guys, can you please be easy on m-”  

“Jinnie, you went and took her right from Jeongin! Don’t act all high and mighty, I see through that shit!” Jisung cut you off, seemingly unable to hear your timid voice. He pulled on your arm a little harder. 

Changbin squeezed you to keep you in his hold, making you wince. “ You guys are children.” He rolled his eyes. 

Hyunjin scoffed, his grip accidentally digging into one of your darker bruises. “ You’re one to talk, you ripped her right from Ji.” 

“I saved her from you idiots!” 

You felt your eyes start to water from the pain and from being ignored. You felt too timid to interrupt them again so you just took it. Though, you didn’t have too for long. 

A deep growl halted all the boys in their actions. All of you swiveled your eyes to Chan who still stood a few feet away, now with a menacing look on his face. His eyes were narrowed at the three boys who held you captive. “That is enough from you three. Can’t you see your fucking hurting her?” He stalked closer and reached down for you. 

Immediately they all let go of you. Changbin spoke up, “ I’m so sorry baby, we should have been gentler on you.” 

“Especially since you just got done with Innie. I forgot about your wounds baby I’m sorry. Hyunjin apologized sheepishly. 

Jisungs lip wobbled as tears welled up in his own eyes. “M sorry, please don’t hate me.” 

“It’s ok, I’m not mad. And I could never hate you, Ji.” You wiped your tears once Chan had you secured in his arms. He still had a pissed off crease to his brows. You brought your thumb up to smooth over his brows, smiling when he kissed your palm. He carried you to the picnic table they had set up, placing you down on the bench. He straddled the bench and had you lean against him. 

“Mm much better, huh omega?” He hummed, kissing your head and holding you close. 

“Yes alpha.” You relaxed against him. You could hear his heartbeat from where you rested. It was calming. “ I’m gettin tired, Channie.” 

He chuckled, “I would be surprised if you weren’t tired, my love. You have been kept very busy lately. You gotta stay up for a while though, dinner is almost ready. The pack has been excited to share a meal together as a whole again.” You nodded, trying to keep yourself awake. 

Looking around you noticed how much food had already been laid out. There was a pile of kabobs, fresh veggies and a plate with some chicken. You looked up as Minho brought another plate full of done food and set it on the table in front of you. 

He gave you a teasing smile, “Hi baby. Welcome back.” 

You couldn’t hide your grin, reaching a cautious hand out to him, unsure if he would grab it. “Hi Min. Glad to be back.” Thankfully, he did. He held on to your hand for a second, running his thumb along the skin of your knuckles. Then he brought those same knuckles up to his lips, placing a kiss there. It was so soft you almost didn’t feel it. It only lasted a moment though, before he let you go and returned back to the grill.  

You let your hand drop with a sigh. Sometimes you wondered where you stood with Minho. One moment it seemed like he hated you, the next it was like he cared for you. Almost as if you were lovers. The back and forth from him was giving you whiplash to say the least. Chan was behind you, running his lithe fingers along your exposed thighs. “Hey now, no more thinking for tonight. Just relax, omega. I got you, Alphas got you.” 

You nodded and were going to reply when you were distracted by the sliding door flinging open. Felix stepped out holding a plate, Seungmin was right behind him also holding a big plate. “Ok this is the last of it!” Felixs eyes found yours quickly and he shoved the plate he held at Minho, who cursed him out for almost dropping it. He scurried over to you quickly, kneeling down to be beside you. “Y/n, baby. Are you ok?” He looked deep into your eyes, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Mhmm, I’m fine Felix. Just really sleepy.” You shrugged sleepily, giving him a kiss. 

Seungmin sat down in front of you with a snicker. “Oh I bet you're really exhausted after what Innie did to you, huh baby? If the sounds that came outta his room was any indication.” He deepened the pitch of his tone, “ ‘Oh omega I’m gonna ruin you, I’m gonna breed you and make you mine.’” He imitated the youngest pack member, adding in fake growls. 

“Seungmin!” You pushed him away as he laughed, “Don’t be vulgar.” 

He leaned in real close with a smirk, “I thought you liked it when I talked dirty to you, puppy.” 

You stuttered, turning your face away from all the boys. “Well… I- um..” You felt your face heat up as you tried to come up with a witty response but fell on none. “ Well you're a jerk so, blah.” 

You felt Chan laugh from behind you, clearly he was amused at your turmoil. “You’re so cute, omega. So feisty.” 

“Don’t you start making fun of me too!” You craned your neck back to see him biting his lip to hold back his chuckles. “You’re supposed to be on my side!” 

He held one hand up in defense, “ I am on your side, baby. But I also know he’s telling the truth, so why fight it.” 

You huffed, crossing your arms but wincing when you accidentally brushed against the deep bite on your breast. Felix was the one to notice your discomfort. “What’s wrong? Are you hurting?” 

You rubbed the spot that was sore, “It’s nothing, just a leftover battle wound from helping Innie.” 

Seungmin was still sat in front of you and he had zero hesitation before he reached for the bottom of your shirt and yanked it up to expose your chest to him. 

You gasped, trying to pull it back down, “Minnie! What the fuck?!” 

He smacked your hand away as he tried to locate the area that was bothering you. “Oh stop, we’ve seen you naked before there's no sense in being shy. Let me see what’s bothering you.” 

Chan soothed you by pumping out calming pheromones and rubbing your back. He wanted to see the damage himself anyways. 

You slowly felt yourself calm down, giving in to the boys around you and dropping your arms. “Thata girl.” Your alpha praised you with a kiss on the back of your head. You had calmed down so much in fact that you hadn’t even noticed your outburst has caused every member present to stare at the scene unfolding, each of them eyeing your now exposed breasts. Chan continued to pour praises and sweet words into your ears as the beta in front of you got to work inspecting.

Seungmin held your shirt up with one hand, while the other was prodding around at your fresh bites and marks. His gaze was searing into you in a scrutinizing way, as if he was meticulously counting each and every tooth mark and finger print that lingered on your body. He clicked his tongue when he saw just how deep some of these bites went, “Jesus, pup. You got fucked up didn’t you? Poor thing.” He had a sympathetic tone to his voice.

When his nails accidentally dug into the wound on your breast you winced and squirmed. Felix - who was still beside you- ran his hands comfortingly along your exposed thighs. “You’re ok, lovely.” He reassured you the best he could, but if he was being honest with himself; seeing you sitting here almost naked, just in your frilly pink panties, was making him drool. He risked a glance over at the other boys and could see the same thing for them. 

Jisung and Changbin both had their hands in their lap, as if trying to conceal their erections. Hyunjin had a proud smirk on his face (he had picked her panties out, afterall) as he bit his lip. The only one not ogling the omega was Minho, who had his back turned to the scene but Felix could see the tight grip the elder beta kept on the spatula. 

Chan and Seungmin had total concentration on your body, both looking you over for the particularly painful ones. Everyone was so invested in you that no one heard the door slide open again until the youngest alphas' voice startled them. 

“What the fuck are you guys doing?” Jeongin had stepped out to join the pack, his hair was still wet from the bath and he was barefoot. “Is this some kind of weird orgy?” 

Seungmin let your shirt fall back onto your torso with a scoff, “You wish, you sick pervert. We were examining all the marks you left on her.” 

Jeongin rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Ha uhh yeah, I got a little carried away.” He came to your side, pushing Felix out of the way. The beta responded with a quick ‘Watch it, asshole!’ before he moved out of the way and went to sit at the table. Jeongin crouched down beside you and took your hand, “How are you feeling, baby? Still feelin sore?” 

You nodded, “Uh huh. ’m also really worn out. I need a nap.” 

Chan cooed at you from behind you, “My poor girl, you have to eat a full meal first. We gotta get you to heal up.” 

“Good thing it’s all ready now then.” Minho brought the last big platter of grilled meats and veggies to the table. He set a plate down in front of you and began to serve you your food first. He gave you a little of everything. “Here you go, be careful it's hot.” 

“Thank you Min.” You grinned appreciatively. He nodded in return, setting a lemonade down in front of you as well. 

“Come and get your food, ya filthy animals.” Minho called to the other pack mates who weren’t yet around the table. For that comment he received a few middle fingers (that he just laughed off evilly). 

After everyone was sat and served, it really dawned on you how much you enjoyed this life. The teasing and comradery was something that was still taking you some time to get used to, but it felt more like home each and everyday. While you ate Chan kept one arm around your back, keeping you close to him while he ate with the other hand. Seungmin was to your left, keeping his hand on your thigh under the table. Changbin was seated across from you playing footsie with you under the table. 

It seemed they all had their own ways of wanting to be close to you. The realization made a wide grin appear on your face. 

“What's got you so happy over there, sweet girl?” Felix brought you down out of your own little world. 

“Nothing,” You replied, crinkling your eyes at him. “Just thinking about how happy I am here with you all and how much I love you. ” 

The silence after your statement was deafening. There was a beat where no one said anything, and for a split second you felt your heart drop into your stomach. A creeping feeling of doubt began to wash over you, but it was quickly erased by the  loud chorus of “AWWWWW”s that flooded out of each boy. Suddenly you were swarmed by the pack, ending up in the middle of a huge pile of man. The sudden overwhelm of all their scents was beginning to make you dizzy. 

“You’re so cute, omega.” Chan had a cheekiness to his tone as he giggled in your ear from behind. 

You felt a wetness falling onto your chest, the drops seeping in through the shirt you wore. And then you heard the sniffles. “Ji… Please don’t cry. You’re gonna make me start crying.” You could already sense the tears welling up on your lash line, threatening to fall at any moment. 

“I can’t help it.” He wailed, burying himself into your shirt even further. “You make me- us- so happy, baby. Plus it’s not just me crying! Look at Lix and Hyun, they're crying too!” 

Now that he mentioned it you could faintly hear the little hiccups and sniffs from beside you. 

“Don't bring us up when you know we’re emotional, you dick head!” Hyunjin shrieked, pulling Jisung away so he could now hold you closer. 

“Alright guys, let’s get off of our baby. She’s still sore, ya know.” Chan was casual with his demand, being the first to pull back from you. 

“Yeah thanks to Jeongin.” Seungmin snickered and eyed the youngest Alpha. 

Jeongin cast his gaze down quickly, riddled with sudden nerves, then looked back at you with an apologetic crinkle of his eyes. “Sorry again, omega.” 

You reached your hand out to him to take, “Innie you don’t need to apologize to me anymore, or at all. I took care of you like a good omega does for her alpha. Plus, I had a lot of fun with you. You made me feel… really good.  ” You beamed at him to show you meant every word. 

He grabbed your hand, ignoring the hollering that erupted from the rest of the teasing pack. He sent you a wink before he leaned in to give you a peck on the lips. 

“Our little boy is a man now!” Changbin laughed loudly as he gave Innie a hard pat on the back. 

“Hyung, I’ve always been a man. At least more of a man than you.” Jeongin dodged the smack that was sent his way from Changbin, cackling with amusement at the elder alpha’s displeased huff. 

“You wish you were half as man as I am!” Changbin tried to puff out his chest to give a more dominant display, but all it did was make everyone laugh louder. 

“And you wish you were half the man that Channie Hyung is.” Felix added to the banter, looking to get a rise out of Bin. 

Changbins chest deflated as he pondered the statement. Then he shrugged in agreement, “Yeah pretty much.” 

“Ok ok, If we’re done eating we should clean this up. All this food left out will attract bugs.” Chan stood from his place, grabbing both his and your plates in his hands. He smooched your cheek as he stood, “sit tight love.” 

“I want to help!” You protested, eager to help the pack with even the simplest tasks. 

“You are helping. You’re sitting there looking pretty for us.” Minho patted your head as he passed you, carrying a large platter back into the house. 

You felt your cheeks heat up, turning away from him so he didn’t see the pleased look on your face. 

It was a few minutes later that the whole table was cleared and cleaned up. Chan came back for you and held out his arms for you. You lifted yours so he could grab you into his hold. “Let’s get you to bed, omega. I know how tired you must be especially now that you’d have a full meal.” 

Now that he mentions it you were starting to feel that fatigue from earlier. You covered your yawn with your hand, then nodded in agreement. “Yeah I think I’m ready for bed, Alpha.” 

He passed by the kitchen so you could say your good nights to the other boys. “Goodnight guys. I’ll see you in the morning.” You offered them a lazy smile. 

“Damn, is it that time already? I feel like I haven’t gotten to see you at all.” Jisung pouted, coming in to kiss you. 

“I know I’m sorry, ‘m just really tired.” You were starting to feel guilty about needing to sleep. ‘He’s right, they have barely seen me. Maybe I should just stay up for a while.’ 

There was a sudden twinge of sourness that was leaving your body, your contrition coming through clearly for all to smell.  

Jisung was speedy to backpedal his words, “No, it’s totally ok! You should definitely get your rest!” His boba eyes were wide and his hands were raised in a defensive way. “In fact,” He deepened his voice to act intimidating, “It is my command that you get some good rest, asap.” 

Chan snorted a laugh and there were a few scoffs and chuckles from the other boys. You had hid your smile behind your hand, you couldn’t help but feel amused at his phony display of dominance. “As you command, master.” 

Jisung visibly gulped at the name, but his reaction was nothing compared to the reaction Minho was having, the beta practically choking on his spit. He attempted to cover it up by pretending he accidentally ran into the counter when he received a side eye from Hyunjin. Minho's mind went racing at your comment, liking the way the title sounded on your lips. 

“Say goodnight to Baby, I’m taking her to bed now.” Chan brought you to each of them so they could all give you small kisses and wish you goodnight. Then he swiftly carried you up the stairs and to his bed. You will never get over how strong he is, carrying you like you weigh no more than a teddy bear.  

He set you down and covered you in the blankets. He then climbed in next to you and cradled you in his arms. You purred affectionately as you nuzzled into him. You felt instantly soothed at being back in his embrace, in the bed you share together. The alpha felt the exact same way. He was more than thrilled to have you back with him. One day he could handle, but the three days were borderline torturous. 

“Channie..” You whispered, your voice quiet as it cut through the silence within the darkness. 

“Mhm” He answered, his own eyes beginning to droop. He hadn’t slept much the last few nights, too anxious to get any real rest. 

“I love you.” 

“Mm, I love you more.” 

The both of you were out like a light.

Minho's mind has been stewing for a few days. Ever since he met Changbins new friend, Wooyoung, something hadn’t felt right. It felt like he was missing something. 

He remembers the encounter very clearly. The beta man had been friendly, almost too friendly. And very personable. He had answered each of Minhos questions, none of which seemed to raise any alarms. 

‘Where are you from?’ ‘Goyang, it’s a city up north.’ 

‘What brings you to town?’ ‘Here to help out my uncle.’ 

‘Whos your uncle?’ ‘Park Jin-young.’ 

‘Are you mated to an alpha?’ ‘Yes, his name is San. We've been mated for a few years.’ 

‘Where is he at?’ ‘He’s back at home, taking care of the cats.’

All of his answers seemed to check out. Though to Minho, the answers did seem a little too clean. There was just something that was off. Something he couldn’t quite place a finger on. He knew he would have to be diligent going forward. He didn’t want to say anything to anyone about it yet, in fear of being completely wrong. But he would hold this thought close to his chest. 

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated!

Also if any one wants to chat about the story or share predictions please send me an ask!!

Beta read by my loves @ayejaii and @jehhskz <3

©doitforbangchan

Taglist- Closed

@chxnb97 / @butterflydemons / @zaggprincess2 / @stellasays45 / @uhhheather / @walnutspie /  @a-mistake-tbh / @meowmeeps / @realrintaro / @ihrtlix / @raehawthorne / @juskz / @freckleboilix / @marvelsmarauder / @0325tiny / @iyeeeverydee / @stars-garden / @boi-bi-ahaha / @gini143 / @queenmea604 /  @palindrome969 / @f9clementine / @theysaidhush / @kpophosblog / @usercaiskz / @honeym0chi / @nobody3210 / @changbinswife10789  @5starluvr / @neyangi / @jiminssluttyminx / @ayejaii / @iknowleeknow/ @jeonginnieswifey / @catlove83 / @upsidedownchaire / @emmxxsworld / @manuosorioh / @igetcarriedawaywithyou / @blondechannie / @woozixo / @ilovejeongin007/ @yaorzu-blog / @theydy-madamonsieur / @jehhskz / @feybin / @rylea08 / @sebastianswhore13 / @kihyuns-military-wife / /@lilyuwon @xx3rachaslutxx / @hahhahahjakakla / @skzstaykatsy / @zerefdragn33l / @yuhhhhh-slay / @im-sinking-in-mud / @n0y4 / @writhingwrecked / @silentreadersthings / @softkisshyunjin

the bolded names couldn’t be found for some reason 🥲🥲 sorry y’all

𓏵ྀིྀ◞⠀ WHAT TURNS STRAY KIDS ON?

STRAY KIDS AND THEIR BIGGEST TURN ONS. . . ⠀⠀⠀⠀꒰⠀⠀ ࣪⠀ ۪ㅤ⠀ warnings! suggestive and smutty, breeding & creampies, spit and marking, slight choking, hair pulling, hand kink, slight dacryphilia.

ᐢ ̥. CHAN ᐢ

EYE CONTACT really gets him worked up. Even better if you have big, beautiful eyes that stare into his like a deers would. Wide eyed and glossy, there’s a twinge of innocence to them that he likes. It’s like you’re so fragile he would never do anything to break you— but, he could if he wanted to. He particularly loves when you get a bout of confidence and keep your eyes on his for longer than usual. He likes to see how long that’ll last (usually not long at all after he’s deep inside you), and then he likes to watch the way they dampen with tears the longer he fucks you. He’ll specifically grip your face to keep your eyes on his. Chan knows it makes you nervous which is why he likes to take full advantage of that. And when he’s done with you he’ll let your face go and to finish the night off, he makes sure to kiss the corners of your eyes, getting the salty flavor of teardrops on his tongue.

ᐢ ̥. MINHO ᐢ

WHEN YOU WORK FOR HIS ATTENTION he really gets turned on. He could be sitting at his desk, working on whatever it is he needed done for work and the second you bend down beside him, wiggling your hips and batting your eyes at the man he’s already thinking of all the ways he could take you right now. It’s honestly a little difficult for him, especially after arguments when you take advantage of this fact. When you lick your lips and place your hand on his heart, trying not so subtly to seduce him. Minho has willpower and isn’t so easily (at least outwardly) fooled by you, though. Which is why you have to work for it. You have to practically beg for it; that’s what he wants from you anyway. Minho will wait until you’re on the verge of tears on your knees for him before he actually acts on any of his impulsive desires.

ᐢ ̥. CHANGBIN ᐢ

YOUR THIGHS get Changbin a little (a lot) distracted. Nothing could get him out the zone of working, of producing, or working out or doing anything in general except for your pretty, soft thighs. When you wear skirts or shorts he loses all sense of control and just has to have you right then and there. He likes the way they feel in his hands especially. He’ll take great pleasure in watching the way they spread when you sit down or how they jiggle as you walk. If you’re sitting beside him in shorts or a skirt expect them to be on the floor in minutes because this man cannot for the life of him control himself. His lips will be on your skin, sucking hickeys along your inner thighs or his nails will be pushing into your skin as harshly as possible. He likes when he can see the indents of his crescent shaped fingernails. His main goal in all of this is to mark up your thighs, make it impossible for you to wear short bottoms because you have to hide all the love bites and scratches that he gave you the day before.

ᐢ ̥. HYUNJIN ᐢ

PLAYING WITH HIS HAIR is his biggest weakness and will get him hard almost instantaneously. The second your nails make contact with his hair or his scalp he’s groaning, maybe even nuzzling into your palm more because he seriously has zero self control with this. He’ll try his best to remain straight faced but once you begin detangling his long locks he just simply can’t. He’ll let one moan slip then another and soon he’s whimpering. And this happens without fail every single time. Usually, these sessions end with his dick hard and you mocking him in a pitiful, sassy tone.

ᐢ ̥. JISUNG ᐢ

YOUR HAIR is a dangerous thing for him simply because he gets hard just seeing you tie it back. When it first happened even Jisung was surprised by his bodies reaction to a simple thing like that. For some reason, the way it flows in a ponytail or in a bun or in whatever hairstyle you put yourself in has Jisung in a trance. There’s this weird focus in your eyes whenever you do it, the rubber band between your lips as you carefully keep every strand in your hold. Or when you use claw clips instead; twisting and pulling the strands neatly into the style. Or when it’s just a quick snap of your wrist and clip up into a messy, manageable hairstyle. Really it makes him want to tug on it, to pull it all to the side and kiss along your neck and jaw and ear. Jisung feels like when you do your hair he has to sit and watch, the urge consumes him, and when you’re done he might just have to wrap it in his hand and tug on it while he fills your pussy just right— it seems like a no brainer to him.

ᐢ ̥. FELIX ᐢ

NECK KISSES AND YOUR COLLARBONE have Felix in a tight grasp. Not just the ones you give him but the ones he gives you always have him a little too breathless. Felix finds your neckline and collarbones the most attractive part of you. He likes the random display of beauty marks that decorate your skin there. He likes to watch as your breath gets labored the more he touches you or kisses you. Felix will press open mouth kisses to your neck until it’s glistening with his spit. He will drag his tongue over your skin again and again, simply savoring the flavor. And the smell— don’t get him started. He loves that your perfume is the strongest along your collarbone and neck. It invades his senses and almost like a drug he’s dizzy from it. Whenever you wear open collared shirts or a tank top expect him to be all over you, whispering breathlessly against your skin. Maybe wrapping his hand around the base of your neck just simply to hold.

ᐢ ̥. SEUNGMIN ᐢ

WATCHING YOU DO HOUSEHOLD THINGS makes him wayyyy too hard. It’s such a random, almost perverted thing to find sexy about you. But seeing how you walk around the house with a laundry basket on your hip and hair tied in a loose bun, maybe even wearing his shirt makes him wanna bend you over the nearest surface. He can’t decide whether it’s the domesticity of it or the fact that you genuinely look so sexy like this but either way, it turns him on. Watching you clean up after dinner, doing dishes, folding laundry, even making the bed. These things have some weird magical effect on his brain that tells him to absolutely ravish you. Any chance he sees you like this expect to be thrown on the bed or couch or tabletop getting eaten out or fucked into oblivion. Seungmin also likes to leave you with his hot, white load deep in your pussy— that really seals the deal for him. Then he’ll continue on like nothing happened.

ᐢ ̥. JEONGIN ᐢ

YOUR HANDS turn Jeongin on unbelievably so. It’s kind of the same as how you view his hands (which you love, by the way) except he likes how much smaller they are compared to his. How they wrap around his fingers when they interlock and how they feel against his skin. He likes that your nails are always manicured and nice, long even. He likes when you choose the red or pink nail polish because they shine a tiny bit differently than your other nail polish’s. Jeongin finds it hot when your nails dig into his flesh so hard from the way he touches and fucks you. His favorite thing is when you innocently trace shapes into his back or arm on the couch, minding your own business watching TV or on your phone. It’s such an innocent, random thing but it gets him absolutely wrecked. Jeongin is so insanely and deeply down bad for you, honestly, anything you do gets him hot and bothered. But it’s this particular thing that genuinely gets him hardest.

TF Big Bang posting, putting that upstart miner through the wringer, part two!

I was also partnered with the extremely talented @altraviolet who wrote a banger of a fic with some VERY fun framing. You can check it out below!

every rupphire kiss in order ♥

You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.

Making myself sad thinking about touch starved Steve hugging himself while he sleeps. He curls up in a little ball and holds himself as tight as he can because it's the only way he can fall asleep. It comforts him and soothes that part of him that craves to be held, craves the warmth of another person and the weight of their arms around him.

the sun goes down

but it will rise again tomorrow

yunho x fem!reader

summary: things with yunho started as a means of comfort, you were in love with someone else after all. but why was it feeling like more than that?

tags: fwb to lovers, hurt/comfort, smut, unrequited love, sorta rich kid!au, also college, also beach, yunho has a tragic back story™, alternating povs (mostly yours); warnings: alcohol consumption, family issues, blood/injuries

wc: 6.2k

listen to: walk off the earth - summer vibe

a/n: writing an atz fic was definitely not on my bingo sheet but here i am and why is it 6k : D it's kind of a mess but it'd be a waste not to post it when it's already written. it's my first ateez fic so pls be gentle with me 👉🏻👈🏻 also i did hongjoong kinda dirty in this, i humbly apologize 🙇🏻‍♀️

It was too warm, your skin sticky with sweat, and Yunho wrapping his arm around you from behind didn't make it any better.

“It’s too hot to cuddle,” you complained, shaking your shoulders to get him to back off, but Yunho didn’t seem bothered. 

“Then let’s not cuddle,” he mumbled into your neck and you could practically feel his grin against your skin. His lips left a trail of kisses on your spine, slowly moving from your nape to your exposed back. 

"Again?,” you sighed, but you’d already closed your eyes, letting him continue his soft ministrations. It felt good, despite the heat in his attic bedroom. “I really shouldn’t let you call me up in summer."

"It was already summer when we started this arrangement, though."

"Maybe we shouldn’t have."

"Don't say that,” he nibbled on your skin, “What would I do without you?”

“You could look for someone else. And I could lay in my bed, in my room that actually has an AC.” Why he didn’t have one was beyond you, especially since you remembered his parents being well off. Then again, this tiny apartment above the surf school didn’t really reek of money either.

“Well,” Yunho shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind doing it at your place.”

“But I would mind.”

“I know,” he hummed, his arm on your waist making you turn around to him, “so you come here instead, and complain the whole time.” He pecked your lips, “But you just can’t stay away.”

“It’s convenient,” you argued with a little frown that got lost in another kiss.

“No, no, you just can’t get enough of me.”

“If that makes you feel better,” you replied, pushing him onto his back and letting him pull you along to sit on top of him.

“What really makes me feel better,” he said with a grin, his hands finding your hips to make you grind into him, “is this.”

"Perv," you chuckled, leaning down to kiss his lips as you felt him getting hard under you again. He honestly had more stamina than was good for him, or you.

"As if you're one to talk, I can literally feel how wet you are. I know you're excited too," he let his hand wander a bit from your hips, his thumb ghosting over your clit and making you shudder, "It's a good thing we didn't get dressed yet."

"If you know then stop teasing."

"No way," he grinned, his thumb flicking over your still sensitive spot again, "that's the best part."

You let out a needy whine, impatient for more. You rolled your hips in an attempt to get some friction and it drew a soft groan out of him too, but then his hands tightened around your hips, making you still.

"Come on," you complained, remembering the way he'd edged you relentlessly just half an hour ago and not too fond of the idea of being kept waiting like that again, "haven't you been mean enough to me already?"

"Aww," Yunho cooed with his stupidly pretty doe eyes looking at you, "you poor thing. All needy and impatient, hm?" He rolled you both over so he was towering above you, caging you in. "But you're just so cute like that," he continued, kissing your pout right off your lips.

“You didn’t come home last night, did you?” Hongjoong asked at the breakfast table, watching as you emptied the last swig of coffee from the can into your cup. 

“Uh, no.” You didn’t dare to look at your roommate as you added milk, “Got kinda late so I just stayed over.” You weren’t a good liar so you thought it was best to keep it vague. Hongjoong wasn’t usually that interested in your friends anyway. Except, right now his eyes were boring into the back of your head.

“Where?”

Your grip around the handle of your cup briefly tightened. “My friend’s place? I met with the girls yesterday, remember?” It still wasn’t a lie, you argued with yourself. You did meet them yesterday, it just so happened that you went to another friend’s place after. 

“Right,” Hongjoong nodded slowly. “Was it good?”

“Yeah, sure, it was …good.”

Before he could say anything else, Yeosang shuffled into the kitchen, messy bed hair falling into his face. A sense of relief washed over you, hoping for the topic to finally be dropped now that your other roommate was there. But Yeosang was all too keen on disappointing you. “Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at you when he spotted you, “When did you come back? You didn’t sleep here did you?”

You wanted to kill him.

“No,” Hongjoong replied in your stead as he got up from the kitchen table and left the room, “She stayed at her friend’s.”

“What’s up with him?” Yeosang asked, his eyes following Hongjoong for another moment. Then he briefly lifted the coffee can, just to find it empty.

“Don’t ask me.”

“Hm,”  he casually stole the cup from your hands. “So you’ve been at your friend’s, huh?”

“I’m with my friends all the time,” you replied a bit too harshly, snatching back your coffee, “What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Ugh, forget about it,” you grumbled, taking another sip of your coffee, before you surrendered your cup to Yeosang and retreated to your room. You didn’t have the energy to deal with their suspicions anymore. Not, when they were very right to be suspicious.

Looking at the situation from the outside, this secretiveness might seem uncalled for. It wasn’t any of their business who you slept with anyway, and both you and Yunho were single. So, you sleeping with him shouldn’t be a big deal. But it was, because you've had a crush on Hongjoong since you’d moved in with him and Yeosang at the beginning of last semester, and there were times when you thought he felt the same, except he actually had a girlfriend. And Yunho just so happened to be his friend that he'd known since middle school and one of the last people you should be sleeping with if you wanted to hang onto that dream of Hongjoong and you. There was no way you could let either of your roommates (or any of their other friends) find out about your arrangement with Yunho. In an ideal universe, you would've never slept with him in the first place, but that ship had long sailed.

You hadn’t planned on accompanying them to the beach. You felt awkward around Hongjoong since the little interrogation and you felt even more awkward about the thought of meeting Yunho with him around. You hadn’t seen both of them at the same time since that one night at the beach a few weeks ago, when the whole thing between you and Yunho had started. Just like today, Yeosang had convinced you to tag along, saying he needed someone sane with him to survive the night. You’d ended up agreeing, especially when Hongjoong said he’d take you down to the beach in his car. But then, of course, his girlfriend had called him over and he’d left, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be your ride back. Everyone else, including Yeosang, had come by bicycle, so you were stuck. Except, Yunho had a pretty sturdy bike rack and a home that wasn’t too far from the beach. So, a few hours later, you’d found yourself on the back of his bicycle, intoxicated and depressed and clinging to the shirt of a guy you’d barely ever talked to before.

“We’re there,” Yunho said when he stopped in the tiny driveway that surely wouldn’t fit a car, waiting for you to get down first before he did the same.

“Thanks,” you mumbled as you hopped off, one of your hands still holding onto his shirt. He glanced down at it but when you showed no intention of letting go, he just let it be. You trailed behind when he leaned the bike against the house wall, and then still when he unlocked the door and led you up the narrow stairs. Your thoughts were barely there at all, even when he sat you down at a small table and finally pried your hand off his shirt to get you a glass of water. All you could think of was Hongjoong and his girlfriend and the way he’d completely forgotten all about you the second she'd called. You knew you wouldn’t have considered it a big deal if it had been anyone else, happy for them that they got to see their significant other. But it was Hongjoong. Your Hongjoong. Though, truthfully, he was actually hers.

You felt tears pricking at your eyes, the alcohol making you wear your heart on your sleeve. Yunho must have noticed your watery eyes, even in the half-light of the apartment, because he left the water on the table before kneeling down in front of you. “You okay?”

You shrugged. “It’s just—it really hurts to be left behind.”

A small, bitter smile played on his lips. “Yeah, it does.”

“But I get it though. She’s so pretty,” your lower lip wobbled as you spoke, “do you think things would be different if I was as pretty as her?”

He tilted his head to make you meet his gaze. “You are, though. You are so pretty.”

For a few seconds you just looked at him. He had big brown eyes that you’d never really noticed before, but now you thought they were kind and beautiful. His lips were beautiful too.

“Prove it then,” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks.

There was a brief moment of hesitation, as if he was trying to figure out if he really got it right. But then he leaned up, brushing his lips against yours. The kiss tasted a bit like alcohol and a bit like tears, but somehow it was still so sweet.

“What are you thinking about?” Yeosang nudged you in the side, making you snap out of your little trance.

“Nothing much,” you replied, lowering your hand that you hadn’t even noticed wandering to your lips.

“Nothing much, hm?” He raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask further and instead offered you his beer. You took a swig, gazing into the flames of the bonfire. The smoke burned in your eyes a bit but you couldn’t really be bothered. Just like that night, Hongjoong had left early, but contrary to that night, Yunho wasn’t there. Mingi said he’d come a little later, but you weren’t sure if he really would. At least you had your own bike with you this time, so it didn’t really matter. (But why did you feel so disappointed?)

Just when you were considering telling Yeosang that you’d go home first, you spotted Yunho coming down to the beach. For a brief moment his gaze landed on you, but then Mingi patted the space next to him in the sand and he sat down with a smile. Your eyes stayed on him for another moment, watching as they talked. His cheek looked red you thought, bruised, but maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. But then you noticed that his right hand was bruised too, the skin around his knuckles scraped and red. You knew what caused injuries like that, you weren’t stupid. But what you didn’t know was why Yunho would punch anyone.

“Some guys have been picking fights with him,” Yeosang mumbled, “They’re kinda holding a grudge against his dad.”

“Oh,” you let out, and you barely managed to stop yourself from asking further questions. You weren’t supposed to have anything to do with Yunho, so it’d be best not to be too nosy. “And why would you tell me that?”

Yeosang shrugged with a knowing grin. “Just had a feeling that you wanted to know.”

“Not really.”

“If you say so.” With that he got up to get himself a new drink, leaving you momentarily alone to dwell in your thoughts.

The night lightly floated along, filled with soft laughter and the smell of smoke and the ocean, but your gaze kept snapping back to Yunho and the blood on his knuckles. It didn’t fit into the picture of him that you’d painted in your head, though to be fair you’d mostly painted it in his bed, so how much did you really know? 

“I think, I’m going to leave,” Yeosang eventually told you, “are you coming too?”

Your eyes were still on Yunho and just when you wanted to tear them away, he looked over too, meeting your gaze. There was something inquiring about his expression, as if he knew exactly what you were talking about; as if he wanted you to stay.

“No,” you eventually mumbled, turning your head to Yeosang but your eyes needed a second longer to follow, “I think I’ll stay a little longer.”

Your roommate huffed a laugh, “Alright, guess you’ll be back in the morning?”

“No, I—yeah, I guess.”

“You stayed for me,” Yunho said with a smile as you dragged your bicycles along the promenade back to his place. There was no reason not to ride other than the night being warm and beautiful and the fact that it was nice to walk together.

“Not for you,” you corrected, “for me.”

“Same thing.”

It was quiet for a moment except for the sound of the waves. His right hand held onto the handlebar of his bike, his bruises in plain sight.

“What happened?” You asked and it made his gaze self-consciously flicker to his hand as well.

“It’s fine, just got held up a little.”

“By whom?”

“Just—just some guys.” Yunho seemed to be looking anywhere but you.

“Because of your dad?”

When his head snapped around to you he looked surprised, “You know about that?”

“No,” you assured, “I don’t know, not really. But you can tell me if you want.” or not, you wanted to add when it stayed silent, but then Yunho spoke up after all.

“It was a pretty big deal, to be honest. Well, at least in certain circles it was. Everyone was talking about it last year. The thought that you don't know is kinda refreshing, to be honest.”

"You don't have to tell me."

"No, it's okay."

“Do the guys know?” You asked even though you were convinced at least Yeosang and Mingi did.

“They do. I’ve known them for so long now, some of them since middle school, so of course they know. It was public knowledge anyway.” He huffed a bitter laugh.

“So, what happened?”

He shrugged. “Miscalculations, I guess. Bad deals. Loans falling through. That kinda thing.”

“Is that really bad enough to pick a fight?”

“Honestly?” he looked at you with his dark brown eyes, “Yeah. It is. When my dad’s business crashed, it took others with him. If your family goes bankrupt because of someone else’s mistake, that’s a pretty good reason to pick a fight over, isn’t it?”

“But it wasn’t your fault.”

“No, but I’m the only one who’s here.”

“Where’s your dad?”

“Abroad. My mom too. It was pretty hard to stay, you know?”

“Why didn’t you go with them?”

He shrugged. “What was I gonna do abroad? My friends are here and college is here too. And I don’t like running away anyway.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “you’re pretty cool.”

That actually made him laugh, and you liked the way it lit up his face, “Thanks, I guess.”

“Yunho?”

“Mhm?”

“Thank you for telling me.”

Yunho liked to be a little mean, teasing you relentlessly with a sweet smile on his face. But tonight was soft and gentle, just like that first time. He pulled you into his lap and cradled you in his arms as if you were something precious, and you did the same for him, kissing his bruises with gentle lips in hopes it could heal them.

“You really are so pretty,” Yunho mumbled into the skin over your collar bones, and his low voice left goose bumps in its wake. His hands on your hips pulled you close, having you grind into him in slow motions. There was no teasing nor was there any of that impatient heat you usually felt. Instead, it was just warm and intimate, and it felt more like love than it should have. After all, this was just an arrangement of comfort and convenience, it wasn’t supposed to feel this close.

“I need to go,” you whispered, prying Yunho’s arm off your waist.

“Why? Just stay, it’s late.”

“No, I can’t.” you slipped out of the blankets, searching for your clothes that were scattered on the floor. 

“Why?”

You couldn’t find your panties, so you slipped into your shorts just like that. It’d make do for the way home. “Hongjoong’s been kinda suspicious about—I don’t even know, he’s just suspicious of something.” You thought you saw Yunho flinch from your peripheral vision at the mention of his friend’s name, but you couldn’t be too sure. He didn’t say anything else and just watched as you put your shirt back on.

“Text me when you get home,” he eventually mumbled when you were about to leave the room, “So I know you’re safe.”

For a second there you felt your heart skip, but then you shook it off. Convenience, you reminded yourself, comfort and convenience.

“Sure.”

Once you were gone, Yunho dropped back into his pillows, rubbing his face in frustration. He should have known better than to think you’d fallen in love with him. Of course Hongjoong was your priority, always. He knew that so well, he’d known it from the moment he’d first kissed you. But there was just something about the way he felt when you were together, that made him want to forget. At first it’d been nothing but a little crush, but the more time he’d spent with you, the more he was convinced he was actually in love with you. You made him feel like home in ways no one else did. 

“When were you back?” Hongjoong asked while he took out a bowl for some cereal. One bowl, you noted, which meant that his girlfriend hadn’t stayed over, even though they’d met up so late. It made you curious, but you didn’t know how to ask about it. You never knew how to ask about anything that had to do with her, too worried he could sense your feelings if you did.

“Around 3? Maybe?”

He nodded slowly. “That’s late.”

“Yeah.”

“San said he and Wooyoung were the last ones to leave. At 2.”

You felt caught and nervous, but at the same time you didn’t get why he was questioning you like this. It almost felt like a parent trying to uncover their teenager’s lies. “I was with a friend after.”

“You’re out late a lot these days.”

You frowned at him, but then your attention got momentarily taken by your phone screen lighting up with a message. When you unlocked it, you found a message from Yunho.

you forgot something ;)

And then there was a picture. Of your panties.

You immediately locked the phone again and laid it onto the table. With the screen down, just to be safe.

“Yeah,” you finally replied, hoping the heat in your cheeks didn’t show, “I guess I am.” And then in an attempt to lighten the mood you added with a light chuckle, “Are you my dad now? Or just jealous?”

To your surprise the question got him spluttering. “What are you saying? I have a girlfriend.”

“I know.”

“Did Yunho get you home safely?” Mingi asked, casually putting his arm around your shoulder. You startled, having been so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed him approaching you. Your mind had been full with trying to figure out if your next class was canceled, since the room was locked and no one was waiting outside either (and maybe there were also other things occupying your brain, like a guy with sweet brown eyes—).

“Yeah, sure, he did,” you replied as you shook off Mingi's arm and turned around to him. The words were already out when you spotted Hongjoong standing behind him and looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Yunho? Didn’t you say you were with a friend?”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. “Well, he is a friend, right?”

“Yeah,” Hongjoong replied with a little frown, “mine.”

You forced out a little laugh, your eyes briefly darting over to Mingi who watched the situation in helpless confusion. “Are you suddenly gatekeeping your friends now?” 

“No, but—why didn’t you tell me you were with him?”

“I don’t know,” you didn’t meet his gaze, “maybe I knew you were going to be weird about it.”

“Isn’t it weirder that you were keeping it a secret? Are you dating him or something?”

“No!” you replied, maybe a little bit too quickly.

“We just walked a bit,” Yunho interrupted, seemingly having overhead you. His voice was calm and he acted as if he just casually joined the conversation, but you noticed the subtle tension in his jaw. “The weather was nice and we got lost in conversation, so it just took us a little longer to get home. There’s nothing more to it.”

You knew he was saying this for you, and you knew you had just claimed the exact same thing, but somehow it still hurt. Maybe you didn’t want there to be nothing. 

“So, anyway,” Mingi broke the tension, “who’s joining for lunch?”

You thought you should probably end the arrangement with Yunho. The constant lying made you feel anxious and it put a strain on your friendship with Hongjoong. It was never supposed to become such a big thing anyway. But when Yunho sent you a text, asking if you were coming to his place after class, you found yourself inclined to say yes. Maybe he’d been right, maybe you really couldn’t get enough of him.

So, you went to meet him at the gate after classes, lost in daydreams as you waited.

“Y/n,” Hongjoong’s voice suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, “are you done for today too? I can give you a ride.” He nodded over to his car waiting in the parking lot. 

“Uh, I—,” you started, trying to come up with a plausible excuse.

“She actually has business with me,” Yunho interrupted, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders from behind.

“Business?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, “What kinda business could you have?”

Yunho smiled sweetly. “She forgot something the other day. Right?”

You felt your cheeks flush with heat, reminded of the picture of your underwear that he’d sent you. “R-right.”

“So, let’s go?” Yunho asked, already walking on ahead to where he’d parked his bike. You stood there for a moment longer, your eyes flickering between him and Hongjoong.

“I’ll see you at home?” you finally pressed out, making it sound more like a question, before you jogged over to catch up with Yunho.

“Yeah, sure.” 

As soon as you reached him, you boxed him in the shoulder. “What the fuck are you doing?!” you hissed. 

“Making him jealous?”

“Are you sure it’s not you who’s jealous? He has a girlfriend.”

“And yet he’s still looking this way,” Yunho said with a shrug, so convinced to be right that he didn’t even bother turning around to check. You did, though, and sure enough Hongjoong was still standing right there, following you with his eyes. When you met his gaze, he lifted his hand in an awkward wave and then turned to leave. You thought you should be happy, but somehow, you weren’t.

Are you sure it’s not you who’s jealous? Yunho almost wanted to laugh. If only you knew how right you were about that. It was pathetic, really, acting all possessive under the guise that he was helping you out, when really he just wanted you to himself. There’d been something like worry washing over him when he’d seen you speaking with Hongjoong. Of course you were right, he had a girlfriend, but Yunho saw the way Hongjoong was looking at you and he wasn’t oblivious to the way he’d been looking at him either ever since you’d started spending time with him. It seemed like a matter of time until Hongjoong would do something about it, about you, and Yunho didn’t think he’d stand a chance if it came down to it. No matter how much time you spent in his bed, having your body wasn’t the same as having your heart. He wished he could have both.

Yunho kissed you the second you were back in his apartment, big hands pulling your hips flush against his while his lips devoured yours. 

“Not even offering a drink beforehand, huh?” You said with a chuckle when you briefly separated.

He raised an eyebrow, returning your grin. “Did you want anything? Coffee? Water? Tea?”

“No, no, don’t mind me,” you mumbled, already reattaching your lips to him, “this is fine actually.”

You felt him smile into the kiss and then his hands wandered further down, just below your butt, and then he was suddenly picking you up, your legs almost automatically wrapping around his torso.

“What are you doing?” you giggled, not actually trying to get down.

“Delivery,” he replied with a shrug and carried you to his bedroom where he let you flop onto the mattress like a potato sack and then followed behind, hovering over you. In an instant you were back to kissing, while your impatient hands tugged on your clothes, discarding them somewhere just to get them out of the way. He kissed down your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth.

“No, don’t,” you breathed, your voice not very convincing with how airy it was, “the guys will see.”

“Mhm,” he hummed into your skin. “That’s true.” He moved down until he was positioned between your legs, hiking one of it over his shoulder before he lightly nibbled on the skin of your inner thigh. “But here is fine, right? If it’s here no one will see. No one but me.”

He bit down a little harder, making you whine in response. “Yeah, there's fine,” you gasped out, quickly losing your composure when he brought up one of his hands to your most sensitive parts while his lips kept sucking kisses into your skin. “There’s good.”

Yunho’s thumb found your clit, rubbing it in slow circles that drove you insane, not enough friction to make you come but too much to leave you indifferent. “Please,” you mumbled under your breath, not even sure what exactly you were asking for.

“Please?” Yunho repeated, momentarily halting his movements, "Please stop?" You immediately let out a whine, making him chuckle.

“No, no, please,” you shook your head, “more.”

“More, hm?” There was a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Like this?” Without further warning he attached his lips to your core, licking and sucking on your sensitive folds while his thumb picked up the pace on your clit. All you could do was buck your hips and cling to the bed sheets as he devoured you, that familiar knot building up in your guts all too quickly. He let you have it, your high washing over you like a wave as he kept eating you out, only stopping when your hands started to physically push him away, unable to take the overstimulation.

“Didn’t you say you wanted more?” He asked when he finally let up, “I’m just trying to grant your wishes.” He kept eye contact as he poked out his tongue, slowly drawing closer to your core again. It almost had the energy of a cat pushing a vase off the table, his movement so, so slow while his innocent gaze was fixed on you.

“No, no,” you whimpered, hands still buried in his hair, “I can’t. Too much.”

“No?” Yunho repeated and it almost looked like he was pouting. He stilled though, not drawing any closer until you gave the go. His face was still close enough to your core for his breath to send shivers through your body, and you involuntarily bucked your hips in search of friction.

“Heh,” he grinned mischievously, “I thought it’s too much?”

“No, I don’t know,” you bucked your hips again, unable to choose between feeling too sensitive and wanting more.

“You don’t know? But I can’t decide for you.” There were those doe eyes again and it was so clearly what he wanted you to say and he thought you would say, but he still needed the words to be put out there.

“Okay,” you pressed out.

“Okay?”

Your face was burning hot with embarrassment. “More.”

You thought you should probably take a shower, your skin once again sweaty as you laid in Yunho’s bed a little later, but you couldn’t be bothered to move. You felt exhausted and tired and it was comfortable to lay next to him, your head resting on his outstretched arm, despite the heat. Yunho’s hand lazily plaid with your hair, his eyes fixed to the ceiling. You watched his profile, his full lashes and warm eyes and soft lips. Eventually he turned his head, slowly, to look at you. 

“You’re staring,” he whispered.

“Sorry.”

“No. I don’t mind.”

You hummed, neither of you looking away.  

“Are you going to leave?” He asked after a while. It was night already and you knew it was high time to go home. But if you were being honest you didn’t want to. It felt too embarrassing to put it out there, though. “Should I?” you mumbled instead.

He smiled. “If you’re asking me if you can stay, you can.”

You averted your gaze. “I’ll stay then.”

Yunho pulled you a little closer, pressing a brief kiss to the crown of your head. “Okay.”

“You wanted to talk?” Yunho asked, as he plopped down in the sand next to Hongjoong.

“Yeah,” he nodded, staring out at the water instead of meeting Yunho’s gaze. “I’ve broken up with my girlfriend.”

“Oh, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. It was high time. We both weren’t happy. And there’s also—” he didn’t finish his sentence, but Yunho knew what he was going to say without putting it out there. You.

“So why are you telling me?”

“I know there’s something going on between the two of you. I’m not going to ask for details and I doubt you would tell me anyway. But just answer me this: Are you dating y/n?”

Yes, he wanted to say. Yes, because it would stop Hongjoong from making a move. Yes, because he wanted it to be true. But it wasn’t.

“No.”

“Have you seen my phone?” You asked a few days later, scurrying through the flat, confused about where you’d left it and in a hurry to get to morning classes. 

“No,” Hongjoong shook his head, watching from the kitchen door frame as you patted down the pockets of your jackets hanging on the coat hooks in the hallway.

“Weird,” you mumbled, “I thought I still had it when I—right, breakfast,” you pushed past him into the kitchen. Your phone laid in plain sight on the table. You turned to him with a raised eyebrow. “You haven’t seen it, huh?”

“Sorry, I guess I didn’t pay attention.” He bites his lower lip, but you barely paid attention, distracted by the missed call from Yeosang, just a few minutes ago. He didn’t usually call you, after all you were living together, what reason was there to call? Maybe he forgot something at home that he needed for classes?

“Actually—Can we talk?” Hongjoong asked. It sounded reluctant, and maybe if you’d looked up from your phone you would have seen the way chewed on his lower lip, the way it seemed to cost him courage to speak up. You didn’t look up though, your eyes still fixed on your phone screen when you said “Sure.”

There was a small pause, before he continued, “We broke up.”

You clicked on your phone’s call history. There was Yeosang, of course, but then there was another one, right below, an hour ago: a declined call from Yunho. A weird feeling settled in your guts, because Yunho too never called, especially not that early in the morning. And because you knew you didn’t decline that call yourself.

“Are you listening?” Hongjoong asked and you finally looked up at him then. He looked different, unfamiliar.

Your phone vibrated with a text from Yeosang.

yunho got beaten up

i thought you should know

You felt panic rise in your guts until it was crushing your rib cage and clogging up your throat. “I need to leave,” you pressed out, rushing to leave but Hongjoong held onto your wrist.

“It’s Yunho isn’t it?” 

“Yes.”

“I knew it,” he let out a bitter huff, “There’s something between you, isn’t there? Are you in love with him?”

You didn’t bother arguing; there was no time for that and maybe you didn’t think he was wrong. With your free hand you grabbed his, pulling it away from your wrist. “I have to go. Now.” He didn’t try to hold on, nor did he say anything else when you slipped in your shoes and rushed out of the flat.

You called Yeosang on your way down the stairs, not bothering with greetings when he picked up.

“Where is he? Is he okay?”

“He’s home,” Yeosang replied and the calmness of his voice made you feel a little more at ease. “He’s mostly okay. I left the backdoor open.”

“What about the guys who did it?”

“Don’t worry. It’s being settled for good.”

You didn’t know exactly what it meant, but you decided that was something to think about later. For now all that mattered was that Yunho was safe.

Yeosang had left a while ago after helping him tend to his bruises, even though Yunho had assured him he was fine by himself. Yunho knew he’d also called up Mingi to settle things once and for all. He’d never wanted the guys to be involved, convinced he could somehow solve this by himself and feeling too guilty about making this their problem too. But he also knew it was time to admit that it was pure luck that he hadn’t been hurt any worse until now. Last night too it could have ended really badly, but then there’d been police sirens in the distance and they’d rushed off. Yunho had dragged himself home as best as he could in the early morning hours, collapsing on his doorstep with his head feeling fuzzy and every joint in his body hurting. With shaky hands he pulled out his phone, barely able to recognize the names on screen through his blurry vision, but he still managed to find your contact. The call didn’t go through. Of course not, Yunho thought to himself. Because it was early in the morning and because surely Hongjoong had already confessed to you and you had better things to do now than to deal with your fuck buddy and his problems. It was silly of him to call you in the first place. You weren’t dating. But he felt lonely and in pain and all he could think was that he wanted to see you and hear you say that things were going to be okay. But you weren’t going to come, so he called Yeosang instead.

You didn’t bother trying to ring the doorbell and instead rushed straight to the back door. You found him sitting on the bathroom floor, battered and bleeding and yet still better off than you’d feared. He visibly flinched when you pushed the door open, but then he saw it was you and the tension in his shoulders dropped.

“Y/n,” his voice sounded hoarse.

You knelt down in front of him, carefully cupping his jaw. His cheekbone was bruised badly and his lower lip was bleeding, but he was looking at you with his brown doe eyes and you knew he was okay. He lifted his bandaged hands to wrap them around yours, and you noticed that they were shaking.

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick up,” you whispered. “But I’m here now. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why did you?”

You frowned, “Because you’re hurt.”

“But you—you don’t have to do this out of pity.”

“It’s not pity, silly.” You leaned your forehead against his and closed your eyes. “Don’t you know that?”

“No,” he whispered, “I don’t know. So tell me.”

“I love you. I’m in love with you.” You brushed your lips against his, causing him to wince in pain, but when you pulled away he chased your lips, pulling you into a kiss. It tasted a bit like iron, but it also tasted like summer and comfort and love.

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stay with me - swiss ghoul x reader

Author’s note: Hey ghesties I was in the mood to write some heart-wrenching angst because I love it sm, also this is my first ghost fic I’ve ever written so yeah hope you like it and requests are always open :) also any ghouls I write for are to be read as the characters, not the people behind the masks. Enjoy!! 

Other things to note: reader’s gender is not mentioned, reader and swiss are in an established relationship, reader’s mental health is not the greatest, reader has a black cat named Jiji, reader is in the 3rd year of college.

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST, slightly suggestive towards the end, hurt/comfort, no pronouns used for reader (swiss calls reader 'baby')

Word count: 1569 words

You had secluded yourself in your room, fuming. You and Swiss had just had a massive argument, the whole time you just felt arguing with him was pointless; but he wouldn’t give up. This time he had really hurt you, saying that if you weren’t going to support him, maybe you two should break up. Jiji, your teeny ball of adorable darkness, trotted over to you and rubbed its head on your leg. You sighed and picked him up, holding him close to your chest. You gave him a few kisses and he mewed as you sat down on your bed. 

“..Jiji.. what am I gonna do.. he won’t listen to me..” You whispered softly as you pet him. He mewed again in response, softly purring on your arms. You chuckled lightly, then felt a few tears welling in your eyes. 

“This whole thing just feels like…” you trailed off, mostly talking to yourself. You sniffed as tears started to fall. “..Maybe he’s right.. y’know?.. Maybe I am destined to be alone forever…” You held Jiji a bit tighter, trying not to cry.

Suddenly, as if he had a sixth sense, Swiss barged into your room. “Baby.. baby, I’m so sorry.. please don’t cry.. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it..” He said quickly, rushing over to hug you. Jiji leapt from your arms and laid on the bed, right on your pillow. 

You stood up as he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you tightly. You sobbed into his chest, your hands holding onto his shirt tightly. 

“Shh.. I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry.. I didn’t mean to say what I said, I’m so sorry..” Swiss whispered, rubbing your back soothingly as you continued to cry. After a few minutes of crying, you had calmed down a bit and started to speak. “..S-Swiss, I-“ 

He cut you off by placing a soft kiss to your lips. You stood in shock for a few seconds, another tear falling down your cheek. You kissed him back gently. “Shh.. ‘m so sorry, baby.. I never meant to make you feel alone..” He apologized over and over as he pulled away briefly to look into your eyes. 

“…if I’m being honest.. maybe you’re right..” You started, looking down. “..you know I don’t have enough money to follow you everywhere for your tours.. and then there’s my schooling..” Your voice catches in your throat as it hurt to say those words aloud. 

“…Wait.. What? What- what are you saying, love?” Swiss stared at you in shock and confusion. He had never thought that you would’ve actually thought of ending your relationship with him. 

“…y’know.. maybe we should take a break.. you’re always gone and.. and I need someone to be here for me, physically, for when I need hugs.. you know what I mean..?” You whispered, still looking down. It broke your heart to say those words, but maybe it really was for the best. 

He froze, his heart shattering inside his chest. His eyes got wide as he just looked at you.

“A.. A break…?” He stuttered, as if not believing what you said. “What do you mean? You want to... You want to... Be... Be away from me.. When I’m here..?” He asked, his voice sounding scared and he felt his eyes welling up. 

It broke your heart to see how badly your words had hurt him. 

“Take a break…” he repeated to himself, as if the words had just registered into his brain.

“But that means... That means... No more... No more... Kisses? No more... hugs... No more... Cuddling...? No more Jiji..?” His voice cracks towards the end of the sentence, now starting to cry. “Why…?” He asked, trying to stop you.

“Please... Please don’t do this..“He looked at you as if he was begging and his eyes were filled with desperate tears... He didn't want to do this, he didn't want to let you go. 

You looked back up at him as you heard him start to cry. 

“..I- I’m sorry, Swiss… b-but if you think that might be best-“

“No! No, I don’t think that’s the best!” Swiss exclaimed immediately. “Look, I- I let my temper get to the best of me, okay? I’m sorry I said that.. I didn’t mean it. Please, baby, don’t go.. I need you..“  He pleaded desperately, now starting to sob as well. 

You just stared at him longingly, feeling very guilty as you watched him cry. You started to cry as well, bringing a hand to your moth to try and stifle your sobs. “Please... I'm sorry... I'll do... I'll do anything... Please…” He begged again, holding you tighter. You sniffed. “..’m sorry, Swiss.. I’m so sorry..” You pulled away, wiping your tears. He stared at you in shock, deeply hurt. “..W-What do you mean..? You’re not… you’re not breaking up with me.. are you..?” He whispered. 

“I…” You were at a loss for words. You couldn’t bring yourself to actually break up with him. He was too perfect. You felt so terrible for doing this. “..Please.. don’t look at me like that..” You silently begged. He smiled sadly, caressing your cheeks with both his hands. He looked at you for a moment, then he leaned closer and he started kissing you tenderly, his lips meeting yours passionately and softly. He wasn't trying to be too quick, he just wanted to feel your body against him. He wanted to feel safe and loved by you again. 

You let out a soft whimper as you felt him kiss you. You stepped back a bit, but kissed him back softly. You pulled away briefly. “…Swiss.. I…” 

He stayed quiet for a few moments, but he kept kissing you. He was slowly picking up the pace, feeling you against him as his lips went down to your neck. “You're so beautiful... I missed your skin... I missed everything about you…” He whispered. He put his arm around your waist and he smiled, his eyes closed. For a few moments he felt safe and he felt free, he felt like nothing bad could happen now that he was with you again.

“Mm… S-Swiss.. please..” You put your hand on top of one of his to pull his arm off your waist, but instead it lingers. He looked at you, not believing you were still trying to end it. He was hurt so much that he didn't know how to answer you for a moment, he stayed silent. He started to open his mouth to say something, but then he closed it. He couldn't say anything... He felt like his words were trapped inside his throat. 

“Why…?” He asked softly. “Why do you want to... Break... U-us…?” He paused and his voice started to break now. He was about to cry again.

“Please, baby... Please... I love... I love you, I…”

He choked on his words and he covered his face to muffle his cry. “I can't... I can't do this... I can’t… I need you, baby..”

In that moment you regretted everything. You hated hurting him, and it just broke your heart to pieces to see him like this. 

“I’m so sorry, Swiss.. I’m so sorry.. I didn’t mean to hurt you..” You said in a quiet voice, hugging him tightly as you sobbed. He was held you as tight as he could without hurting you, his voice sounding broken and almost whispering.

“I love you…”

He kept looking at your face as he kissed you and he tried to make you happy, to make you stay.

“I.. I need you... Please, don't... Don't leave me...

He was caressed your face, and he kissed you again, a little more passionately than before.

“Please... Please... Baby…” He mumbled between kisses, and you felt his tears fall as well as yours. He was desperate and he didn't want you to go. 

You kissed him back with the same passion, feeling terrible. Your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, pulling him in closer as you two continued to kiss each other, both still crying. “I love you.. I’m so sorry, Swiss.. I’m so sorry..” You repeated every time in between kisses. 

“I love you... I love you…” He repeated his words, his voice breaking again as he continued to kiss you.

Eventually he backed you up to the bed and you both sat down, still giving each other short but passionate kisses. You pulled away, sobbing. “..I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to hurt you… I feel terrible..” Your voice cracks, and he wipes your tears, disregarding his own. He smiled sadly. 

“..No, no… Don’t be sorry.. I’m the one that should be sorry.. I made you feel like I didn’t want you anymore.. I should’ve controlled my temper.. I’m so sorry.. Will you ever forgive me..?” He pulled you into his arms again, having you sit on his lap. You buried your face into his neck, holding onto his shirt tightly, letting a few last quiet sobs out. He rubbed your back soothingly, not caring that you got his shirt wet. “Shh… it’ll be okay..” He whispered. “..Will you ever forgive me…?” 

You nodded. “Yes.. yes, of course.. of course I forgive you. I love you.” You whispered with a smile. 

He smiled contently, resting his head on yours gently. “Thank you…” he whispered, continuing to rub your back and humming softly soon after, lulling you to sleep. 

꒰ fly little bird ; akaashi keiji ꒱

꠴ pairing. akaashi keiji x figure skater!reader.

꠴ synopsis. as competitions are approaching, you’re trying to perfect a certain move. all the while, your friend is trying to find just the way to confess his feelings for you.

꠴ word count. 9.1k words.

꠴ fic contents. friends to lovers!au, ice skating!au, fluff, mutual pining, insecure reader that constantly beats herself up, bird references bro, reader’s personality: figure skating, reader may be referred to as ‘birdie’ or ‘little bird.’

꠴ a word from the author. this fic for the babes, @cafemiya, and this is my final repost of my old fics. im sorry yall :((

In school they teach about basic life cycles, typically starting out with a butterfly. It’s supposed to teach children the process of life and how it works, explaining the maturity in animals rather than humans because that’s a discussion to talk about when they’re more mature and older. Whatever way you take it, it all boils down to how life goes in a circle. Where life is given, death is soon to follow.

You’ve always been compared to a little bird. You can’t quite understand why, but the nickname ‘Birdie’ tends to follow you wherever you go.

The life cycle of a bird is simple. Doesn’t matter what type because it all starts with an egg being laid by the mother and then being nurtured in healthy conditions in order to hatch. And when those little birds do hatch, they’re taken care of and being nursed before they can face the sky. Despite the wings they’ve been blessed with at birth, they’re taught to fly through reinforcement driven by the mother. 

Watching the chicks closely, the ugly animals are nudged from their spots of safety to their imposing fall. The mother bird forces their children to take this risk and have them make the decision to either fall and let gravity take over or learn how to spread and flap their wings. 

At first, you thought this was a cruel way to teach these poor animals. However, how else would they learn? The same way a baby learns, they must tumble and learn from their mistakes as they keep pushing themselves. That’s the only way to keep going.

Keep reading

successful||roger taylor x reader

Warning(s): none

Word count: 4,278

A/N: This is a request from @deacyloverogerinalove! I really enjoyed writing this even though it took me a little while. I’m really grateful for all the love that my first fic got and there will definitely be more parts. Also, if you have any requests, feel free to dm me any time! Ok, enjoy!

Summary/request:  Reader and Roger were best friends as children, so close, they were born in the same day in the same hospital on the same ward and their mothers soon became friends as did they. But when it hit high school and Reader left to pursue acting, they had a huge argument and hated each other. An amazing friendship turned into pure hatred for one another. Her reason for leaving was that everyone in their home town was unsuccessful, a nobody. But when she returns years later, she’s just that. A nobody and with Roger being a world famous drummer. She tries to reconnect with him after changing her name and she’s basically gold digging.

“It’s ridiculous!”

You had been fighting with your best friend for the past hour. You didn’t know how or when the conversation had escalated, but now you were both yelling venomous words at one another that could never be taken back.

“Ridiculous? Roger, it’s my dream! This is what I want more than anything and you’re saying that it’s ridiculous?” you paused. “Or is it because you think it’s ridiculous for me?

Roger looked down, guilt evident in his sad expression. The truth was that he didn’t want you to leave. But he couldn’t tell you that. It’d make him seem weak. Pathetic. Selfish. You had been there for him all his life from the moment you were both born at the same hospital in the rooms just across from each other. You had spent every birthday together and ate lunch with one another at school when there was no one else. You had comforted and encouraged him when he cried the first day of kindergarten (although he would never admit that he did). You were there for him when his first girlfriend had broken up with him and when he wasn’t happy with the music he was writing. You were always supportive.

It wasn’t one sided either. He was your shoulder to cry on when Tommy pushed you on the playground or when Katelyn called you names during math class. He had always stood up for you and he was there when you felt like the whole world was against you. He always believed in you and pushed you to be your best. But it was different now. You weren’t those two little kids skipping their way to the local grocery store a block away every day for popsicles. You had hopes and dreams and plans for the future.

Roger had been your rock. Your anchor. Your constant. And you had hoped that he would be your future too which is why it pained you so much to hear that he didn’t believe in you. Maybe you really weren’t cut out for acting. Roger had always had your best interests in mind after all. 

“Look, I’m not saying that you can’t do it but…Y/N it’s just so unrealistic. Look at where we live! Not a single person here has amounted to anything more than an extra in some stupid sitcom.” he argued.

“Whatever. I can’t let you get in my head because I honestly think I can do this,” your voice wavered trying to hold back tears. “You know, I always thought that out of everyone you’d believe in me but I guess not. I guess I really am alone.”

You left without another word, slamming the door behind you as you ran down two blocks to your house.

—–

It had been five years since you’d moved to New York to go to a prestigious school for theatre and the performing arts. You changed your name (not officially or legally though), bought new clothes, cut your hair and even dyed it in a desperate attempt to leave your little town and boring past behind. You had been having fun learning the ins and outs of film. In truth, you were still trying to get ahold of your life outside of the town you had grown up in. After all, it was a huge change going from a relatively unknown place to the Big Apple.

At first, you thought about that little town often. Every day in fact. You called your mother once a week to check up on things back at home. You considered asking her about Roger but always shied away from the topic. Knowing that you two had left off on a bad note, your mother never brought him up either. You hadn’t spoke to him since that argument on your last day in town in his backyard.

Thoughts of Roger and what he could be up to filled your mind every time you came back to your cramped dorm room after hours of lecturing on the History of Cinema and Using the Right Lens to Capture the Best Atmosphere and Tone. You loved film with all your heart but it became tiring. 

Perhaps you had the talent and passion, but you certainly didn’t have the energy or determination. You had been in a few indie films, but after all this time you still hadn’t gotten your “big break”.

You were going to school and working two different part-time jobs to support yourself. You were stretching yourself thin and it would only be so long until you’d snap. Every rejection you got put a hole in your self-esteem and you began to wonder if this was really for you. Of course, acting was your passion but you would be lying if you said that the idea of just giving up and going back home to rest didn’t give you relief.

“Ten more auditions.” you promised yourself. If none of those go right, you’ll just go back home and figure it out from there. You were done with this life. It was tiring and only made you feel insecure about yourself. No amount of love or passion could persuade you to pursue this. 

Then again, Roger could have. He would have told you that you couldn’t give up and that it shouldn’t even be an option. But Roger wasn’t in your corner anymore. Roger was off doing god knows what. You were alone.

—–

Two years later, you were packing your things for a flight back home. Back to that small town where everyone was no one. The ten auditions you had promised yourself turned into 30. You got a few callbacks, minor roles for filmmakers that were trying to make it just like you were. But all of those big roles that you had wanted so badly were always “the wrong fit” or it was always a “we decided to go in a different direction” call.

That was exactly what you had decided to do. Go in a different direction. Backwards.

—–

Walking around the streets where you had grown up was an emotional rollercoaster. At each and every turn there was something that triggered a memory inside of you. Most of those memories were made with Roger, you realized. You couldn’t help but wonder where he was and what he was doing these days. It had been almost seven years since you had spoken to him and as you looked at the grocery store that had become your hangout spot as children, you felt a little hole in your heart. You really missed him.

Walking into the store for your signature orange creamsicle (just for old time’s sake), you felt nostalgic as you imagined the seven year old version of yourself and Roger racing each other to the store as the poor owner yelled at you for the millionth time to stop running around and causing a mess.

“Hey Dan, how’s it been?” you chuckled, taking small steps towards the store owner, leaning against the counter.

“Y/N?” he asked excitedly as you nodded. “Wow, almost didn’t recognize you! Man, I swear you were just a little kid when you left!” “Well actually I go by Y/F/N now. Guess I just wanted to leave this place behind but, well… now I’m back. Maybe for good. I don’t know, still figuring it out.” you thought out loud.

He started talking again but you weren’t paying attention. Your eyes focused onto the small television screen in the corner of the room just behind the counter. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

“Is that fucking Roger??” you asked, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“Yeah, he’s been with this band called Queen or something for a while now. You didn’t know? What happened I thought you were best friends?”

“Yeah well things didn’t work out. Sorry Dan but I gotta go.” you said already sprinting out the front door.

—–

“Queen???” you shouted out to your mother after practically slamming the door open. “He’s with Queen now?? Why the hell did no one bother to tell me??”

“Baby, you did ask us not to talk about him…” your mother replied calmly, hoping to tone down your anger and shock.

“I know, I know,” you sighed rubbing your forehead. “It’s just… I didn’t think that THAT’S what he’d be doing.” You had listened to Queen many times before but you hadn’t been catching up about them in the news. Their music was all you knew about them.

“Look baby, they’re having a little show in town in two weeks. I know that you and Rog didn’t leave off in the best place but… don’t you think that it’s time to at least talk to him?”

“I’ll think about it.” you said as calmly as you could. 

The truth was that you were most definitely going to that show. Your years at acting school hadn’t been kind on your wallet and being a world famous drummer must come with its perks. What could you lose from a little reconnection with Roger?

—–

You had spent two weeks catching up with old friends around town and before you knew it, Queen was in town.

After years away in New York, you had stopped caring about Roger and thought about him less and less. However, something about being in this town made you miss him and the adventures you had together. You had to admit that you were a little nervous to see him again.

Looking into the mirror, you looked totally different from the girl who left town seven years ago. You almost couldn’t see how that girl and the girl looking back at you now were the same person. 

But that was what you wanted. If you were going to use Roger for his money, you didn’t want to do it as the girl he knew all those years ago. It would break your own heart for him to realize what kind of person you had become.

Five minutes. Oh my god five minutes?? You had to get going otherwise you’d miss the first few songs.

—– 

The venue was small and crowded. You recognized some people from around town but from the amount of people there were, it seemed that some had traveled quite the distance to see Queen.

The lights went dark as the crowd’s cheers grew. The spotlight shone across the empty stage as the band’s guitarist and bassist stepped out. The crowd grew so loud that it was almost deafening. Then, there he was.

Roger Taylor.

Your Roger Taylor. Roger Taylor who cried on the first day of kindergarten (though he would never admit that). Roger Taylor who was too afraid to play on the swings until you convinced him that it would feel like flying. Roger Taylor who came to you for help on his english homework every day because he had fallen asleep in class again.

But was he still that same Roger Taylor? You knew that fame changed people and knowing Roger, he could definitely have grown an ego bigger than the one he already had.

Your mind was swimming with thoughts and memories of your past and you couldn’t help but stare at him. You couldn’t take your eyes off of Roger even as Queen’s front-man stepped out in the most eye-catching costume.

“Hey, we all want a piece of him. You’ll have to get in line.” the girl next to you nudged you after catching you staring at Roger.

—–

The show went well and their music was amazing. There wasn’t a single stiff body within the crowd.

Now you were backstage with a bunch of other girls. You were shocked as to how many young women there were wearing the most revealing clothing that they had in their closets. Of course you knew that he would have groupies but you didn’t know to what extent. 

It was weird to think about. All these girls chasing after Roger when you had always known him as that loser that had fallen off of the slide in the 11th grade (parents around the playground would ask you “aren’t you a little old to be playing on the playground?” but you didn’t care. You were just having fun with your best friend). 

But isn’t that what you were doing? Trying to get close with this rockstar just so that you could maybe afford a place to live?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the screams of the young girls around you as Roger stepped out of his dressing room. Standing off to the side a little, Roger could see you clearly despite the large number of women crowding around his door.

“Y/N?” he asked himself in disbelief. “Hey, can we get that girl through here?” he turned to his bodyguard pointing towards you. Much to the dismay of the girls backstage, you were brought to the front of the crowd and into the drummer’s dressing room.

As the door shut behind you, your heart sped up. What were you thinking? He’d recognize who you were, wouldn’t he? He would definitely catch you in this lie oh my god you need to get out of h-

“Y/N? Hello?” his voice snapped you back to reality. What were you going to do?

“No actually, I’m Y/F/N. Sorry if you were expecting someone else.” you answered hesitantly. He had definitely caught you. There was no way that you were getting away with this.

“Oh sorry… you just… looked like someone I used to know” he said with disappointment clearly in his voice. He looked down with the saddest expression you had ever seen and you almost considered telling the truth. But you couldn’t because well… money.

There were a few moments of silence before you finally spoke. “Well…what now?

“Well honestly,” he sighed. “I’m not really up for sex right now. Wow, don’t think I’ve ever said that…”

“What? Not pretty enough?” you joked.

“No no it’s not that at all it’s just that…I was really hoping to see that girl today.” he spoke sadly.

The room went silent again. You were sure that you would have been caught by now and honestly, you didn’t really have a plan.

“Tell me about her.” you finally spoke.

“God she was…perfect. My very best friend since we were born.” he spoke fondly. “She was so kind and she was always there for me until she left. And then I was alone.”

You felt like you were being invasive because it was you that he was speaking of and he didn’t even know it. Somewhere in the back of your mind though, you were comforted by the fact that he felt exactly the same way as you did being apart from each other. Alone. Lost. Incomplete.

—–

You had been talking to Roger for hours about anything and everything all while holding up this fake persona.

“Oh my god it’s 4am,” you suddenly realized, looking at the clock above roger’s mirror. “I have to get going. Got a busy day tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Roger said holding onto your arm. “Okay this is really rare for me to do and I can’t believe I’m even asking this right now but… can I see you again?”

“Sure,” you spoke as you tried to hold back a smile. “Seven o’clock at the Angel Bar next week. Don’t be late.”

“What? No number?” he asked as you slid out the door.

“No number.” you smiled and made your way back home.

—–

Soon enough, it was next week. You sat on a bar stool as you watched Roger walk through the door.  Usually he was confident, but if you weren’t mistaken, you could see that he was a little nervous.

“So you finally decided to make it huh?” you laughed.

“Hey! I’m only… ten minutes late!” he smiled looking down at his watch.

—–

It had been several hours and several rounds of drinks later until the topic of money came up. Honestly, you were enjoying the time to catch up with your friend even if he didn’t know that it was you. You were starting to regret this entire scheme and considered just telling him the truth. But you couldn’t do that. You were too far in and you REALLY needed that money. The little place that you had been living in expected rent soon and your pockets were completely empty.

“Yeah, money’s been a little tight lately,” you looked down feeling guilty because you shouldn’t be doing this. Sure you left off on a bad note but he was still your friend.

“How short are you?” he asked right away.

“What?” you asked confused as to why he was so eager to know.

“How much money do you need?” he asked again.

“No you can’t do that.” you had to at least ACT like you weren’t just using him for his money. If you went straight to telling him how much you wanted, he would be suspicious.

“Y/F/N, it’s fine. Just tell me how much you owe and I won’t judge you.” he asked again.

“$400…” you sighed.

“Darling that’s nothing, I’ll cover it.” he answered quickly.

“Really? That’s too much for me to ask of you.” you lied.

“How about this?” he bargained. “I’ll pay your rent if you go on another date with me.” 

“Deal.” you smiled.

—–

With the money problem being out of the way, you had actually been able to enjoy your dates with Roger.

You had gone on two more dates after the one at the bar and now, you were on your fourth. You had avoided anything physical. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t help but fall in love. You loved him.

You were in love with Roger Taylor.

You walked through the park, holding Roger’s hand as you realized this. But you couldn’t say anything. You were Y/F/N not Y/N. You weren’t the girl he knew growing up who would clean up his scraped knee and read to him on the tire swing in your backyard because you had learned how to read far before he did. Now you were the girl that he had met backstage in a crowd of tens of other girls and the girl that was using him for his wealth.

You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed that you and Roger had stopped walking and were now standing at the edge of the lake. You felt his eyes on you as you stared out into the shallow lake.

Was that what you were being? Shallow? No, you didn’t love Roger for his money, you loved him for him. Right?

You turned and looked into his blue eyes and he looked back. Were they always that blue? Your mind filled with panic when you realized that you had been standing closer to him than you thought. The tension was palpable as your foreheads rested against each other.

“Y/F/N,” Roger whispered so quietly that you could barely hear it. “I love you.”

Your heart started to pound in your ears. Did he really just say that? THE Roger Taylor said that? You were overwhelmed with happiness until you realized.

He said Y/F/N, I love you. Not Y/N, I love you. 

You couldn’t keep this up anymore. You couldn’t keep lying to him and let him keep falling in love when this wasn’t really you.

“Roger, wait.” you stopped him just as your lips were about to meet. “I’m not-”

“I know.” he interrupted. “I meant what I said, Y/N. I love you no matter what name you have or what colour your hair is. I love you.

Then it finally happened. Your lips met in a passionate and long awaited kiss. You feared that it would be awkward but it just felt right. It was as if your lips and mouths were made to fit with each other perfectly. The world around you seemed to dull out and the lake went quiet. In this moment, it was just you and Roger. Your best friend since birth. Through childhood. Perhaps the love of your life.

“I love you, Roger.” you said, only breaking apart for some air.

“I’m sorry for how we left things off.” he sighed, your noses still touching and your foreheads pressed together. “I love you and I should never have doubted you.”

“I’m sorry for how I started this.” you laughed. “I shouldn’t have tried using you for your money.”

You both laughed and it felt like when you were children. You two had always had a bad habit of downplaying situations that were quite serious.

“Why did you do that anyways?” he questioned innocently.

“Acting didn’t go so well and now…I’m completely broke,” you admitted. “Why didn’t you tell me that you knew it was me?”

“Dunno actually…guess I just trusted that you knew what you were doing.” he chuckled.

“Well, you were wrong. I had no idea what I was doing.” you laughed.

Soon the two of you burst out into a fit of laughter until your stomachs hurt. Collapsing on the grass together as you caught your breath, you looked into Roger’s eyes again. They reminded you of your childhood and your past but also of your present and where you were right now in this exact moment.

“Roger…you were right. About acting. It was really just a ridiculous dream and I have no idea what I’m gonna do now.” you said feeling comfortable with Roger again. Like you could talk about anything and he would be there. Just like how it was as kids.

“No, you can’t say that,” he answered suddenly sitting up. “Y/N, I always believed in you I just didn’t want you to leave me. You can’t give up Y/N.”

“Rog, I already tried for seven years. I just don’t think I’m cut out for it.” you said casually.

“No Y/N it’s your dream. C’mon, money isn’t an issue anymore. You have to keep trying.”

Deep down in your heart, you knew that he was right. You didn’t have a single clue as to what you would do if acting didn’t work out for you. It truly was your passion and you loved it with all your soul. But then you thought back to all those rejections. All the times when your agent had called you saying that it didn’t work out. It had broken your spirit and made you doubt yourself.

“Roger I can’t! I already tried for seven years and-” you argued before Roger cut you off.

“And you’ll try for seven more years if that’s what it’ll take.” he looked into your eyes with hope. Those blue eyes, full of hope. “Let’s go to LA.”

“What?” you said breaking out of your trance. There was no way that he just said that.

“Yeah, pack tonight and we’ll leave for LA tomorrow. I want you to get started as soon as possible because I know that you can do this.” he smiled.

You were in shock but still found yourself nodding before you even knew what was going on.

The next day, you were on a flight to LA with Roger.

—–

Three Years Later…

You made it. Driving back home from your agent’s office, you were beaming. This would be your third big Hollywood role. You were making quite the name for yourself.

After flying to LA, you had started going out for auditions straight away. You constantly got rejected just like you had before. The difference this time was that Roger was here with you. Despite all the times you had gotten turned down, Roger was in your corner. He had encouraged you every day to keep going and told you that you “had the talent” so often that you knew he was going to say it before he even opened his mouth.

You were proud of yourself. You hadn’t gotten here because of Roger’s fame or money. No one knew of your connection until last year when the two of you had announced that you were together. All of your roles were earned by your own talent and determination (with words of encouragement from Roger of course).

Money wasn’t a problem anymore. You didn’t need to rely on Roger after those first two big roles had brought in enough money to support the both of you for ages. 

You were forever grateful that Roger had convinced you to pursue your passions and believe in yourself.

Walking into the small and modest flat that you and Roger had bought together, you smiled upon seeing him struggling to make dinner.

“This is ridiculous!” he cried out in frustration. “Why would you add that much water?”

“Baby just follow the recipe,” you laughed. “You really can’t do a whole lot wrong with pasta.”

“Look who’s talking!” he replied. “Wasn’t it you that nearly burned down my house in the fifth grade trying to make soup?”

“That was totally you!” you retorted as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Well then, I think that maybe you should help me before I burn this pasta.” he said leaning in for a kiss.

“I didn’t ask for you to cook Rog,” you chuckled. “But I’ll help you because clearly, you need it.”

Turning to tend to the fire that was much too large for just some pasta, you smiled. You were happy and so was Roger. You were finally successful and you were loved and in love.

This was exactly where you wanted to be. It was where you were meant to be.

——————————————————————————————

A/N: Just like before, any constructive criticism or notes are appreciated! I don’t have a permanent taglist yet but I’m working on it! Thank u guys so much for reading! <3

𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 | toji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Your ex-husband bringing the kids over for trick-or-treating is one thing; him wanting to spend the night at your place is another. But it's just for the night. There's no way one night can rekindle some old feelings...right?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: ex-husband! Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - the reader is around their mid-30s - Tsumiki (age 11) and Megumi (age 10) - mutual pining - kissing/makeout sessions - unprotected sex - Daddy kink - breast sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - spooning + mating press - cervix fucking - breeding kink - praise - clitoral play (pressing and grinding) - pet names (baby, good girl, mama, princess, sweetie, sweet thing) - you and Toji have been divorced for five years - cameos: Gojo, Utahime and Mei Mei - mention of drool/spit and tears - humor bc I'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k (....dawg.)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: happy Halloween, everyone!! so, randomly missed writing ex-husband! toji bc it's lowkey my favorite, soooo yeah, this is what we're doing to celebrate the end of the month! anywho, happy October, beautiful ppl, and tysm for reading my works!! Alsooo, ty for 2.8k!!!

“Trick-or-treat!!”

“Gasp—Oh my goodness!” 

“We came to celebrate Halloween! Also, Megumi forgot his toothbrush here again.”

Opening your door to children at the sunset of Halloween day isn’t out of the ordinary or anything special. However, it’s always a pleasant surprise when it’s two kids you hold dear to your heart. You greet them with a hug, two siblings you know too well to say you’re acquainted with. If anything, you’re practically family. 

The raven-haired brother, referred to as Megumi, speaks up. “It’s not my fault! Dad was rushing me last time.”

“Because you had to bring your stuffed animals last time, holding us back for your baseball practice.” Tsumiki, the older sister, snapped back. The two argue amongst themselves in front of you as you try to mediate. It’s no avail until another voice comes to the fray.

“All right, chill out, you two.” The voice belonged to the person approaching the porch stairs, your eyesight capturing the familiar figure walking up with two duffle bags. The one standing tall before you was the father of the children, Toji Fushiguro. Who’s also known as your one and only former husband. “Get inside and finish y’r homework, or else we’re goin’ back home.” 

The siblings stop bickering and head inside, taking off their shoes at the foyer and walking upstairs. Now that they’re gone, you turn to the man with the jet-black hair, his viridian orbs focused on you. The weather was chilly, so the man wore his usual dark denim jacket over his plain black sweatshirt, matching his jeans. “You look good, big guy. What’s in the bags?”

He greets you with a curled lip, and the scar on the side of his lip lifts. “Picked them up from their after-school sports, so it’s their sports gear and costumes for tonight. Mind helpin’ me here?” 

“Hmmm,” you merge your facial expressions to that of faux pondering, turning your back to Toji. “Nah, can’t. Got dinner to finish making.”

“Hmph, should’ve known.” He makes his way through between you and the front door. “Wouldn’t wanna break your pretty nails carrying heavy shit, huh, princess?” 

You glare at him using the nickname, hating his patronizing gaze. “From what I remembered, you would never let me carry the heavy stuff because you thought I was too fragile and easy to break. So how about that, Mr. Knight in Shining Armor?”

“Really? I don’t remember sayin’ all that before. You must’ve put me in a spell.” 

“Probably, I’ve been told I’m quite cute~.”

“Mmm, nah, more like an old hag of a witch.” Toji barks a laugh at your offended reaction, and he immediately ducks and heads for the stairs when you throw a sandal at him.

“At the very least, say I’m a cute witch, fucker.” You say the final word under your breath, grabbing the sandal you threw and heading back to the kitchen.

To say you and Toji were acquainted with one another would be the biggest understatement of the century. The two of you met a decade ago, fell madly in love, and married within a year of the relationship. When you tied the knot, Tsumiki had to have been two years old, and Megumi just turned one year old. You two had been together for four years after that, and you could confidently say those were one of [if not THE] best years of your life. You often second-guessed yourself being in a relationship with someone who had children, fearing that they wouldn’t like you or ignore you.

However, those worries were blown right away as the days went by. Every time you spent time with the children brought you three closer than ever; it was to the point that they saw you as their mother. How sweet! And there’s no denying that Toji loved you. The man would break someone’s nose for you  — yes, it happened before, and it wasn’t pretty — for you were his sweet little thing that kept him going.  

Well, if it was so great, why the divorce? Let’s just say you weren’t Toji’s first love. That title would have to be awarded to the Megumi’s mother. Even in her unfortunate passing, you can tell that Toji loved that woman like no other. It didn’t make you jealous or anything, seeing the man you love still mourn for a dead woman. Hell, you’d probably do the same if you were him. But, you can’t lie; it felt like you were cast over a “shadow” when it came to her influence. It was damn near suffocating to bear, especially in those four years of marriage. So, for your sake and his aching heart, you pulled him aside and suggested a divorce. And Toji didn’t fight you on the proposition, signing the papers and setting you free from the thick air.

Although things ended between you two, that didn’t mean things stopped being what they were. If anything, it was as if nothing happened at all. Even if you still don’t live under the same roof, you still make time to hang with the Fushiguros, whether invited to some occasion or exchange phone calls or texts to check up on them. Even now, five years after your separation, it warms your heart knowing that you get to interact with the people you care about. 

There are moments you find yourself missing living under the same roof with all three of them and living alone can be pretty lonely. But all in all, as long as they’re comfortable and trust you enough to be around, there’s no need to change things up again. Like right now — the four of you sit at the dinner table eating before the kids go off trick-or-treating.

“Are you going to trick-or-treat with us, Y/n?” The brown-haired child sitting next to you asks while finishing up her dinner. 

“Sorry, not this time, gotta be at a Zoom meeting for my job in a few minutes. But I do have someone else to take my place. Gojo will be here at around—Why are you two making that face?” You stop mid-sentence to notice Megumi and Toji at the other side of the table, displaying disgusted facial expressions at the mention of the white-haired other’s name.

“Why him?” They said in unison.

“Why not??” You question their irritation.

“He’s so annoying…” Again, in unison. Proof enough that they’re father and son.

You sigh as you get up to take your plate to the sink. “Oh, come on, you two, it’s not like he’ll be with you guys the entire night. He has a party at a friend’s he’s going to later.” 

“Isn’t he too old to trick-or-treat?” Tsumiki questions, noting that Gojo is way past his undergraduate years. 

“He is, but whatever gets that prick any free sweets,” Toji answers his daughter before getting up to put his dish in the sink. 

You exit the kitchen, head into the living room, and sit on the couch. The laptop you had placed there was ready to open and unlock, and you clicked on applications and windows to look through before your meeting started in the next three to two minutes. He should be here about—

DING-DONG!!

Now.

Right on cue, you motion for Toji to grab the front door, and he follows your command. “Kids, Gojo’s here!” You shout out to the two kids who still sit at the table. “When you’re done eating, you can go upstairs and put your costumes on. But whoever finishes last has to do the dishes.” You can hear commotion from the table as the brunette rushes to put her dish in the sink and dash for the stairs. Megumi groans to himself; you giggle when you hear him mutter an “Aww man…”

You pull out your headphones to connect to your laptop, put them in their respective ears, and prepare yourself for the meeting. Ignoring the faint passive-aggressive tones of your ex-husband when greeting Gojo at the door…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Your eyes flutter open, noticing the lighting change around the living room. The orange sunlight no longer decorated the space, substituted with the gradual darkness that overtakes you. The only source of light you can figure out is the flashing from the television screen.

Aside from the TV, there are no other signs of life. There aren’t any signs of Tsumiki or Megumi around playing or causing a raucous. It could only mean the two are still trick-or-treating with Gojo. 

One blink, two blinks. I must’ve fallen asleep after the meeting… You hum while sinking to the couch, burying your face into the pillow. 

But…since when did your pillow act like it was breathing with a heartbeat? And…I smelt that cologne before…How?

“Ya awake now?”

You raise your head, realizing you are not lying on your couch. Technically, you were; however, you were lying on something else on the furniture with you – more like someone. 

It’s then you realize that you were lying on Toji during your entire slumber, him leaning on the end of the couch, one leg spread to make room for you to sleep on him while you sit on the other. And you can guess that you had your head on his chest, snuggling up to his warm figure. He looks at you with his green eyes now darkened by the room, yet you can see their glow from the television light. And that small smile he gives you, the scar on the right side of his lip lifted upward. The familiar butterflies in your stomach flutter like before. Like old times sake…That must be embarrassing, huh?

You frantically try to get off of him, “Sorry about that, I thought—“

“No, no,” Toji places a stern hand on your back, keeping you from moving further. “You were comfortable.” 

You stare at him for a few seconds until your face contours to a look, and a smile starts to creep up while you situate yourself back to your original position, pressing your face back on his chest to listen to the beats of his heart again. “I recall having this couch all to myself not too long ago, so where’d you come from?”

“Well, I wanted to watch some sports highlights, but I figured you’d kick my ass if I pulled you off and had you sleep on the floor instead.” With the click of your tongue, he chortles. You bet your ass I would. “So, I decided to have ya sleep on me while I watch TV.”

“What’s wrong with the other side of the couch? It’s quite vacant and enough for a big guy like you.” 

“True,” his hand rubs circles on your back, an old habit he did when he used to have you like this. “But then I’d be lonely.” 

You titter. “That’s big for someone who said he thrives on being alone.”

“I thrive being alone when I’m working.” You’re glad he can’t see your eyes roll; he’d probably grab you by the cheeks like a child. “Besides, why would I wanna be alone when I have you for myself.”

And there it is, your cheeks begin to warm up. Or was it because you’re so close to him that his heat is transferring to you? That’s probably it, yeah. Let’s change the subject…”How long was I out for? I remember the kids left around 7:30-ish.”

“Mmm, it’s going to eleven right now.”

Three and a half hours? Damn. “It’s past their bedtime.”

Toji scoffs. The abrupt motion of his chest rising is satisfying in a way that makes you even more comfortable. “You still think they’re gonna sleep with all that sweet shit they got?” He snickers some more as you shake your head.

“They know better. When you guys get home, be sure to put their candy bags on the top shelf of the closet for the morning.” 

“Still traumatized from that one time?” 

“Uhhh, yes??” The memory flashes to you for a quick moment, but the dread from before still haunts you. Megumi was six years old and Tsumiki seven, returning home from trick-or-treating and immediately tasting their labor from that night. However, what you didn’t expect was for them both to eat almost half their bags. Let’s just say, thanks to their sugar rushes, they didn’t drop dead until the hour hand touched two of the morning. “Unless it’s the weekend, never again.”

The way the older man chuckles is so therapeutic — it nearly makes you want to fall asleep again. “You weren’t the one chasin' Megumi all over the place tryin' to get him to sleep. Little squirt gets his speed from me.”

“Awww, poor you~” You can sense the glare as you respond in a condescending, sing-song tune. “You and him are always butting heads. Like father, like son.”

“Tch, hate that sayin’ so fuckin’ much.”

“Why? ‘Because it’s true?”

“Shut up.” The hand he used to rest his head comes down to pinch your nose. You wriggle out of his hold with giggles, but he happily keeps you grounded to him with his stronghold and a leg wrapped around to prevent yours from moving. “He only listens to you. Such a sweet lil’ baby to you, huh? Puttin’ my own son against me.”

More giggles prompt out of tiny guilt, and you bring up a hand to rub on his chest. “He’s such a bright boy now. Growing up so big and fast.”

“Miki, too. That girl is way too smart fr' me to catch up. And she’s becoming so kind and strong, crazy to think she made me play teacups when she could barely go down the stairs by herself.” Toji hums, the vibrations felt on the pads of your fingers. “Think she gets that from you.” 

You shook your head. “They’re your babies. They do amazing things because they have a big guy like you to catch them if they ever fall.”

“Hmm, fair…But let’s not pretend I’m the best dad in the world. Fuck, never in my life did I think I’d be a dad, especially with two kids. I didn’t know shit back then — still! I still don’t know shit.” You don’t say anything, just listening to him voice his thoughts to you. Because he knows you’d listen – you always do. “If you weren’t there for them, I don’t think they’d be shining like this. Y’re definitely the thing that brought us up together. They look up to you so much. Ya did so well with them.”

Nodding aimlessly, his black sweatshirt grazing on your cheek. “Thank you. Same to you. Didn’t do so bad yourself, big guy.”

“Mmm.”

Nothing is said between you two after that. The only thing that makes noise is the voices coming from the television. The volume lowered, an initiative you could guess from Toji wanting you to get some rest. The silence was too awkward that it might torture some, but it was fine where it was. There was no need to change it, especially when you were comfortable in each other’s embrace.

That is, until Toji asks, “Do you miss it?” The rubs on your back go slower, his fingertips drawing a ticklish sensation.

“Of course I do. All the time.” You answer honestly, turning your head to rest your chin on him. Your eyes glimpse directly at his, giving him a tiny grin. “Why ask? I know the kids miss me being around; what about you? Miss me nagging and putting you to work all the time?”

He sneers at your comment. “Every day.”

It was such a simple answer, yet it had the power to wipe that smirk right off your face. Your eyes locked in his sight, and your heart tuning to an irregular rhythm. Oh, come on, Y/n, get a grip! “Ahem—Toji, I hope you know that I never stopped missing everything we had — I never will. Those years that we shared were probably the best I’ve had. We had happy moments, others sad, of course. But, God, do I miss it all. I miss it so much. I miss having you guys here. Miki and Gumi and—“

“Me?” Good Lord, if this man doesn’t stop looking at you with those goddamn eyes of his, such captivating orbs that say more than he lets on. Your breath hitches, and so does the hand on your back. “Hmm? Ya miss me, baby?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why’d you have to call me that? And it gets worse when he places his free hand on your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin while the forefinger teases the lobe and tragus of your ear. Goddammnit…

“...Yes,” your voice was down a whisper, which could easily be mistaken with the television. But you know Toji heard you, loud and clear. “Especially you, Toji.” You said it. The words that he wanted to hear from you. They felt so forbidden to say, yet it was the truth. You avert your gaze away from him. But you knew that wouldn’t work, not right now. Toji taps your cheek with his thumb, and your eyes sheepishly return to his.

He doesn’t say anything, and that makes your heart beat at an unbearable rate. It’s all you can hear when you stare into his deep emerald eyes, the sound of it ringing your eardrums as if you could puke. Your throat running dry, so you gulp to ease the uncomfortable bob. If something could just happen to end this anxious torture, that would be great. 

And then your prayers get answered: something does happen. Toji slowly brings his face closer to yours — your body goes rigid, and you instantly face away before the inevitable happens. No, I didn’t mean that!

“Aht aht, don’t do that, baby.” His hand slithers from your cheek to your chin, forcing you to face straight at him. “Lemme see you.”

“Toji, wait,” your voice travels out in a shaky breath. “We shouldn’t be doing this. We can’t cross this line anymore.”

He listens to your pleas, but his body does otherwise. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead while the hand on your back snakes downward. “Why not?” His gruff voice dialed down to a whisper.

“Because—Mmmm…” Toji interrupts you by licking the helix of your ear. Oh, you slick bastard. “We’re supposed to be done…” 

“That’s not stoppin’ me from takin’ care of my sweet thing.” Jesus Christ, you almost melted from the way he whispered that to your ear. He’s pulling out all the same old tricks, and it gets more hellish by the second as you try not to give in. “So, y're gonna let me take care of you like I always do, right, mama?”

Both his hands now rest on your ass, groping it while your hips sway as if they have a mind of their own. The leg between yours comes up slightly, making you ride on it. The heat on your cheeks has already blossomed to your ears, making it hard to think straight. Gripping his sweatshirt, your hips ride his thigh to ease the throbbing sensation that grows with every motion. Good God, you shouldn’t be doing this. You know you shouldn’t be doing this. However, it’s been so long that you felt wanted like this — wanted by him. It’s all the same – his voice, his hands, his words, his body, and the names he calls – yet here you are turning into putty. 

“Haaahh, Mmmfff…Toji, please,” Toji withdraws his face from your shoulder, leaving him to examine your expression. You must look so dumb right now, with your hooded eyes and shivering lips. But, at this point, do you even care? “Please…Treat me right.”

One moment, you see his gaze narrow with a devious glint. Next, you’re taken aback when Toji slams his lips on yours, kissing and sucking your bottom lip until you give him access. With a moan, you open your mouth for him and sink deeper into the kiss. Your hands come around his neck, keeping him focused on you and you alone. Not that he would have it any other way.

His strong hands continue to knead your asscheeks while you hump and grind on his thigh. Nibbling on your lip, you whimper helplessly for him. It strokes his ego, knowing he’s making you like this, the fucking bastard. He takes in your tiny cries happily, shoving his tongue to play with yours. You give in to him, almost losing your balance riding his thigh, yet Toji’s lips never leave yours.

You break the kiss to get an imperative breath, panting loudly and sweetly for him as Toji kisses and licks your ear. The sounds make your lower region twitch. “Hnnmm, fuck…That’s my girl. So fuckin’ good fr’ me always, Y/n…” You can feel him slide a hand up to the hem of your leggings, forcing it inside for his thick fingers to brush up on the bare flesh of your butt. You gasp sharply. Him squeezing your butt has you biting down on his sweatshirt. “—Hahhh, Oh God, Toji,” With every squeeze, he inches closer to your panty-covered chasm, where you know he’d find a damp spot. Please touch me. Please, please, plea—

CLACK-CLINK!!

The two of you are frozen stiff when you hear the sound of the door opening and closing, the foyer lights turned on. “Alright~, we got you guys home. See ya later!” That was Gojo’s voice, indicating everyone was finally back from trick-or-treating. This means that Tsumiki and Megumi are about to see you on top of their father, his hand in your leggings and smacking lips with yours. Your eyes shoot wide with horror — immediately remove yourself from Toji and stand up from the couch to pull your bottoms up. You barely had the chance to peek at Toji because the kids already run to the living room to find you two.

“Y/n, Y/n, look!” The brunette was the first to greet you with her adorable pink Barbie cowgirl costume. She and her brother, dressed as Sasuke Uchiha, cheerfully showcased their pillowcases full of candy. “Look at all this candy we got!”

“Wooow, you guys really went on a haul,” you can only hope they can’t see you sweating bullets through your fake reaction. “Wh–Where’s Gojo?” 

“He dropped us off here a few seconds ago and left for the party,” The raven-haired boy answered while scanning his pillowcase.

You only nod along until you frantically wipe your mouth, realizing the tiny trail of spit from the corner of your mouth. “Umm—Ahem, well then, I’m glad you two got all that candy. Now, let’s hurry up and get you guys home so you can get ready for school tomorrow!” 

But the children didn’t move an inch. Actually, they looked like they were going to tell you something. You lift a brow. Oh no, they’re going to look at each other. They looked at each other and then glanced back at you. Oh, God, no. “Uhhh, Y/n, we were thinking.” Big sister Tsumiki is always the one who asks the following question. “Can we stay over?”

You inhale a massive breath, yet you do your best not to exhale a heavy sigh. “Kids, you promised to keep the overnight stays to three at max per month. This will be the fifth!” 

“Yeah, but it’s dark out. Plus, it’s way past our bedtime.” The younger chimes in with a tiny pout. “We’ll be asleep by the time Dad gets us home.”

And here comes Tsumiki with the tag-team response to add on. “And that means he’ll have to make continuous trips back and forth from the car. Picking me and Megumi up, getting our bookbags, the bags full of candy, the whole thing! We already packed up our PJs just in case.” 

You stood there staring at the two in astonishment. There’s no way they thoroughly planned this out. There’s just no way… And to make it worse, they were making valid arguments. You open your mouth to say something, but the two give the best puppy eyes they can. The wave of guilt hits like a train, internally cringing. You turn to Toji, who still sits on the couch, and the motherfucker only gives you a shrug. Wow, what a helpful father he is.

You groan into your hands, shaking your head while looking at the kids who wait for your verdict. “…Alright, you can stay as long as you PROMISE to put those candy bags in my bedroom closet. Deal?” The happy smiles and aggressive head shakes should answer your question. “Good, now go ahead and take your showers before you head for bed.” They rushed to the stairs by the time you finished that sentence, so enthusiastic about staying the night at your house, and you can’t help but smile hearing their footsteps run up the stairs. 

With that being said, you turn to the older man again. Your brows are trenched down, but your smile is still present. “So, you legit just sat there and let those two tag-team me like that? In my own house?”

Another shrug with a dumb smirk on his handsome face. “Told you: too smart fr’ me to catch up.” You shake your head before exiting to get the kids and guest rooms ready, leaving him with the television. 

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The midnight hour has finally danced its way into the darkness of the night. Halloween is finally over, and the month of October is no more. The pitter-patter sound of the rain cleanses the neighborhood of its merits and festivities that partook hours ago, ready for a new phase of the year to take over.

After having the guest room ready with sheets and sleepwear for Toji and kissing the kids goodnight, you rinse your stress off with a nice shower and put on your pajamas to get ready for bed. After you turn the lights off, you drape the comforter over your figure as your body sinks with the cozy sheets and pillowcase. Your eyes close while focusing on the curtains of your window, the only light piercing inside being the lampposts by the street. 

…Well, at least that’s what’s supposed to happen. But that’s not the case because you’re not the only one lying comfortably on your mattress. Instead, Toji is here with you, in your room, on your bed, his chest to your back, and his hand roaming inside your oversized shirt. Your lips are now connected with his, sharing your erotic moans with his enticing groans, and you get a little louder as his fingers cup and play with your breast.

“Mmphh…Ahhhh, I thought I told you you’re sleeping in the guest room—Nmmff!” He tweezes your nipple with his forefinger and thumb roughly.  

“And I thought you’d be smart enough to know that wasn’t gonna happen.” Toji kisses the crook of your neck, drawing near your ear for him to whisper. “Besides, look at you. Still sleepin’ with no underwear on?”

“Hmph, only when I have a man around the house.” That answer got you another rough tweak on your nip and a purposeful gnaw to your ear. You knew he’d react like that, never liking the mention of another man leaving your mouth – especially during an intimate time like this.

“That so? What man you know that can handle all this?” Toji then moves from his side to be between your legs, pulling up your shirt to fully expose your chest. And your breathe hitches while his free hand travels down your abdomen to your 

“Ahhhh, no one. Just you...” You look at him with half-lidded eyes, taking in his reaction to what you said. The salacious grin on his face becoming broader should entail that he greatly loved that retort.

He brings his face to your other unattended nipple, “Good answer, princess.” The nub of your breast enters his mouth, and the wet warmth of his tongue greets it with lapped motions and grazes from his teeth. Despite that, it doesn’t distract you from the fact your bottoms are pulled down with ease and are thrown to the bedroom floor, leaving your cunt out for him, your erotic fluids seeping and glistening from the outside lights. 

Toji plays with your folds until he can stuff his pointer finger into your chasm, the insertion resulting in your body’s jolt. It’s been a long while since you had his thick digit inside you, playing and scraping the inner walls to evoke whimpers. God, it felt so good, this satisfying feeling returning to awaken your body to his touch. He interacts with your body as if he’s the only person who knows how to get you going – and it’s the truth. No one can put you in a blissful haze quicker than this man. And you’d prefer to keep it that way. 

The addition of his middle finger into your leaky entrance startles you, the thick digit making its way in with such vigor that he uses both fingers to scrape the velvety texture of your walls. Your eyes are now screwed shut at the growing commotion between your thighs, and the heat within your body flourishing all around gets to your head. “—Khmm, Oh fuuck, Toji. Please, don’t stop.” 

With a soft ‘pop’ noise from his lips, Toji replies to your demands. “I’m sorry, what’s my name again?” You giggle with trenched brows. Of course, how could I forget?

“Nmmph, D-Daddy, pleaseee, I’m so clo—Ahhhann!!” He puts his thumb to your clit, grinding down on it unexpectedly. “I wanna cum, pleaseee…”

“Hmmm, good girl,” he teased, laying down kisses, nibbling on the skin of your stomach and inner thighs until he arrives at your leaking slit. Your body jerks up from the bed when you feel the cold, wet muscle slowly lick on your clitoris before ravaging your folds. The sounds of his mouth on your cunt are so lewd to the ear, slurping noises from his lips with the lapping motions of his tongue claiming your come are too much for you. And when he uses his hand to swipe and pinch your clit? Oh, it’s a wrap. Your release comes out without control, biting down on your bottom lip to make sure your cries don’t leave this space for the kids to hear. Their room is on the other side down the hall; tonight isn’t the night for too many risks.

When your trembling body calms down and subsides, Toji withdraws his face from between your thighs. Your essence paints his mouth, and he wipes his chin clean while licking the remnants that coat his scarred lips. “Hmph, missed tastin’ you like that.” You open your eyes when your high finally evades you, watching your ex-husband pull down his sweats. His erection springs out and hits his stomach, your mind going rampant with thoughts as you ogle at his freed limb. Shit, it’s been so long. Will that shit even fit me again?

“Don’t think it’ll fit, baby?” Damn him, he loves teasing you. Toji then discards his black wife-beater, at long last revealing his well-built, brawny physique that has you drooling for him. He uses his hands to maneuver your legs—your knees pushed to your chest as your legs propped up on his shoulders. A position you’re all too familiar with. Your eyes don’t leave Toji’s cock as he aligns his cock to your slick-coated folds. “Take some breaths fr’ me, sweetie. Can’t take care of you when you’re all tense.”

You take up on his advice and begin taking deep breaths, reminding yourself to maintain the steady pattern as he pushes the tip of his dick between the lips of your cunt. Every inhale is where he nudges into the hole of your inner cavern, and every exhale gives you time to breathe out the pain that comes in for a split second. This carries on until the cockhead wedges itself perfectly into your vagina, along with the inches of his girth that stretches until the base kisses your lips, the tip of him kissing your cervix. Tears swell up in your eyes, taking more deep breaths to prepare yourself for what’s about to come. 

“Oooh fuuuck…Heh, yeah, that’s my baby right there. Fittin’ so perfect fr’ me, mama…” He puts his weight on you, keeping your figure unmoving under his bow. 

“Nmmmf, Daddyyy,” you’re forced to take in all of him, and drool trails down your lips with no hope of taking care of it. “…I’m so full, you’re too much…”

“I know, sweetie, I know.” He wipes your spit after kissing your forehead. How gentle compared to what you’re about to go through. “Gonna move now.” His thrusts start slow for the two of you to adjust to each other; the feeling of his length’s veins coming in and out of your chasm is so euphoric, and the kisses to your cervix want your body to writhe and squirm. But you’re bent into this position for a reason: forced to submit to him no matter what. So you do just that.

Yet your horny haze gets more potent once he picks up the pace, rutting into you with increased speed. Your slit, still sensitive from earlier, gets overstimulated with the constant grazes on your gummy walls and jabs to your tender cervix. It takes everything in your power not to come so early.

“—Hahhhh, Nmmph. Oh, shit, shit, shit…” Toji groans above you, the thrusts of his pelvis increase to an irregular rhythm, grinding deep into your cunt to the point of uncontrollable babbles escaping your lips. His bullying on your insides results in you gripping his length hard, causing the older man to hiss and moan at your contractions. “—Ohhhfuuuckk!! Jesus Christ, baby. Y’re gonna make me go crazy.” 

As if that wasn’t already happening now that he pistons his cock into your wetness, your brain turning into mush from the onslaught of ruts to your puffy wet chasm. Tears stream down your face, and more drool follows down with more precise hits to your delicate canal. The pounding in your head makes it hard to think of anything else, the squelching noises and paps of Toji’s balls hitting your cunt making it worse. 

“D-Daddyyy, I’m—Ohoooo!! Oh, Jesus, ohhhshit!” You can’t formulate a proper sentence, too engulfed with the electrifying sensations coursing through your body. 

“Damn, you feel too fucking good—Hnngh!!” Toji places his forehead on yours, resting his entire weight on you while his hips have a mind of their own. “‘Bout to make me knock you up…”

Oh, good Lord. The mere thought of having a child is the last thing that should be on your mind. But in a time like this, who in their right mind would be thinking straight? “Nnnfff! Oh God, pleaseee, fill me up, Daddyy!” Green eyes narrow with trenched brows. “—Pleasepleasepleaseee!! I want you to fill me up so bad, I want it, I want—Hyaaaaa!!” 

How can he deny your desperate, teary pleas when you’re urging him on like this? “Heh, you’re so fuckin’ sexy, mama.” Toji captures your lips with his, your mewls taken by him as you sink further into your pleasurable thrill.

Sporadic thrusts of his pelvis produce more raunchy noises in the joining of your sexes, his heavy balls smacking on your cunt as he drives the base of his cock straight into you. Your slit is now a puffy mess, come and slick form a soapy mess that Toji now harbors a milky ring around his girth. A few rushed, sloppy thrusts heighten your high once more, and then Toji presses his pelvis down to the hilt on one final, harsh thrust, unloading his seed into your aching folds. And your climax follows in a few seconds, the walls of your cunt fluttering on his pulsating dick as your essence soaks him. Your muffled shrieks are received by him, quivering under him until the aftershocks wash through your body. 

Once you two breathe at a steady tempo and the nerves of your sweaty bodies fall still, the kiss is broken with heavy pants and a string of spit that links you two together. Toji buries his face between your neck and shoulder, licking and kissing your skin as you’re allowed time to experience your clarity.

“Hmmm…You know I’m done yet, princess.” Toji mumbles to your ear before stationing your legs off his shoulders for them to rest.

“Yeah, I know, big guy.” You tease him with a breathless laugh, kissing him on the temple. “Always wanting more…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“…So, you’re telling me you had your ex-husband spend the night? Not just the kids?”

“Yup, that’s what happened.” 

This morning was different from your usual routine – well, you can’t say it’s different if you have done it before, huh? After five years of divorce, you thought you’d be so used to waking up and getting ready for work without worrying about others. However, this morning proves otherwise.

It felt natural walking into the kids’ room and lightly shaking them awake, telling them to get ready while you whip up something quick for them to eat as Toji showers (using your bathroom, by the way). Watching the kids run down the stairs and eat breakfast puts a smile on your face, reminiscing about the good old days when they were younger and teenier. It sometimes feels surreal doing the same thing for them now that they’re getting older and taller. But seeing them bicker and interact with each other in your presence never fails to warm your heart.

When Toji’s finished freshening up and loading his kids’ stuff in his truck, it’s time to bid them farewell for their departure for school. You give them final touch-ups on their hair and outfits, reminding them to be safe and not get into trouble (especially Megumi, now that the boy’s been getting into fights). And before they rush to the car, you hug them and give each a kiss on the cheek. Here is where the warm feeling inside your heart begins to deteriorate, not wanting to let them go. Yet, for their sake – and education – you release them and hope for the best.

The last to leave was Toji, who came from the kitchen to the front door with a paper plate wrapped in foil in one hand. His name is written boldly by a black Sharpie. “This fr' me?” 

“No, it’s for Shiu Kong, for dealing with you all the time.” You stick your tongue out at Toji as he glares at you, not even moving out of the way while he exits through the door. “You better eat that when you get to work, you have a terrible habit of skipping lunch.” 

“Whatever ya say, mom.” He pesters you with the title, knowing you’re technically not a mother anymore. Yet it only makes you smile knowing he notices your maternal side. 

“Don’t forget to text me when Tsumiki’s soccer game is next week.” You watch him go down the porch stairs. 

“Will do.”He whistles. 

“And Toji?”

The man stops walking to turn to you, his forest green eyes fixed on you so quickly that you almost forget what you want to say. Or what you wanted to do. You place your fingers on your lips and blow a kiss with an outward gesture. It was an old habit you did whenever he left, something you can’t seem to get out of practice with. It’s embroidered in your mind at this point. 

And when he catches the kiss with his free hand and places it on his chest, it makes your heart skip a beat. Toji grins, “I’ll be damned if that was fr' Shiu, too.”

You snicker with a shaken head. “Drive safe, Toji.” Closing the front door, you stand there for a while. Your smile doesn’t falter; it gets bigger as you replay the moment instead. Thinking about him, hearing him, seeing him, it all drives you crazy. And that’s a good thing…right?

“I don’t know, sounds like you still kinda care about the guy.” 

“Of course I do,” So here you are, sitting in your living room enjoying the rays of the sunset decorating the space, in a video call with your best friends, Utahime and Mei Mei. You reply to the former’s comment. “Just because I don’t have the ring on my finger doesn’t mean I shouldn’t care about him. I mean, he’s the father of two lovely children.”

“Shoot, you’re better than me, then.” The dark-haired woman admits. “But you’re kinda proving my point, Y/n. Even when you don’t have the ring on, you two act like the same old couple, and it’s definitely not just for the kids’ sake. Let’s be real here.” 

You try to interject, but the pale-blue-haired other, Mei Mei, intervenes, “I agree. It’s one thing if you let the children stay over, but he also wanted to spend the night. Sure, he could’ve been tired from driving all day and such. However, if you’re still seeing a man for the last five years – while legally unbound – and he says he wants to spend the night under your roof, which is rare, that should ring some bells at least.”

“I know, it did…” you nod along with what your friend is saying, throwing your head back with a heavy sigh. “But it’s not like he’s never spent the night here before, nor is he banished from stepping inside.” 

“Oh? Then why is this time different from the others?”

Utahime jumps in after Mei Mei’s chirp. “Yeah, you’re telling us about all these nostalgic lovey-dovey feelings as if you’re falling in love with him all over again. What, did you two have sex or something?” 

An open mouth, yet no words come out, leaving you in a predicament. You could’ve just lied or swerved the subject to something else. But you didn’t. And the two women on the screen lift their brows with hooded eyes, a look meaning a thousand words. You couldn’t even explain yourself either because a sudden knock on your door captured the attention of all three of you. 

You stand up and walk towards the door, your friends still on call on the phone at hand. Opening the door, you’re almost stunned to see in front of you. Tsumiki and Megumi with nervous smiles, and their father at the car collecting the same duffles bags from last night. You’re kidding.

“Hey, kids.” The two of them gulped from not calling them by their names. You bring up the phone to face the screen to them. “Say hello to Auntie Mei Mei and Utahime.” The women on the line smile and wave at the children, who sheepishly wave back.

“Hi, aunties.” Megumi greets them, and then his eyes drift back to you. “So, Y/n—“

“What did you forget this time?” Straight to the point, no room for excuses.

“It was Miki this time! She forgot her soccer cleats.” The older sibling gawks at her younger brother for calling her out.

“Tsumiki, I know you have cleats at home.”

“I do, but these are special! You bought them for my birthday, and I’ve been wearing them to every game ever since! So, I was scared when I couldn’t find them at home.” The brunette was quick to defend her stand. “Also, Dad doesn’t feel like driving up here and then back. So…can we…”

You close your eyes and bring the phone to your face to shield your vexation. Twice in a row, the sixth time this month. You can hear the giggles of your friends from the other side of the phone, adding more fuel to the fire. You don’t look up until you hear heavy footsteps on the porch, seeing Toji holding both duffle bags with a hand and shoulder. He stares at you as you stare at him, a silent conversation on how to handle this situation. And when he shrugs with lifted brows, you realize it’s no use and release the long-awaited sigh.

“….If I see one more thing being left behind here, you guys can’t come back till December, understand?” It wasn’t anything serious, but enough for the kids to know you weren’t joking. They nod their heads in unison while you roll your eyes. “Okay, get in here.” They rushed inside with gleeful laughs, the shuffling of their backpacks following along with them. Your eyes then drift to Toji as he walks up to you. “Did you forget something here, too?”

“Yeah,” you lift a brow when he drops Megumi’s bag to the floor. Before you can register his hand on your chin, you squeak when he brings his lips to yours. It lasted for seconds, but the kiss was sweet and tender, sucking on your lip before letting go with a playful bite. “Meant to give you that when you woke up. Thanks for the food, mama.” 

Toji picks the bag up and walks inside your home to put the bags in the rooms, leaving you standing on the porch with an astounded expression. You couldn’t appropriately calibrate your thoughts until you heard faint laughs from the phone. Then, you realize your best friends witnessed the entire scene that transpired. 

Utahime, with the slyest leer, was the first to say something. “Oh yeah, he laid that pipe on you good, without a doubt.”

“Mhmm,” Mei Mei agrees with a chuckle. “And I'm guessing he’s gonna do it again tonight. Isn’t that right, Y/n?”

You end the video call with a heated face. “Sh-Shut your damn mouths!!” Again, you groan into your hands before returning inside. Thank God I still have those birth control pills...

♱ 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi mogera + dividers by the amazing @/cafekitsune!!

Call me, baby

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre - Smut, slow(ish) and then boom porn - Strangers to lovers (non-idol)

♡ Word Count: 7.6k

♡ Summary: Welcome to Rockstar tattoo and piercing, where giving a beautiful stranger and eyebrow piercing can lead to the best fuck of your life.

♡ A/N: I started this as soon as photo's of Hyunjin with that damned eyebrow piercing came out. I am EXHAUSTED the horny took over, I'm ruined and now maybe you are too. 😭 I wanted to have this be a bit of a slow burn type of thing just so there could be some build up and longing ya know? I don't usually draw things out this long but I wanted to give it a shot. 💕Please enjoy it, I worked hard and I'd love to hear feedback. I also only lightly edited it for right now, I'll look over it again later! Gosh I'm exhausted. + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

♡ Warnings: Pain slut Hyunjin, Descriptive piercing process, Biting, Hair pulling, Appearances by Lee Know, unprotected sex (safe sex is good. be safe ya'll) Oral (f&m receiving), nipple play (kinda? & not for too long + reader has nipple piercings)

✧ Masterlist ✧

“Hey, man. Welcome to Rockstar tattoo and piercing whatcha lookin for tonight?” Minho, your ex and fellow co-owner of the shop asks as that familiar jingle rings through the empty shop. You’re too busy cleaning up your space to listen in on what the new customer wants. You’re sure that it’s something simple since it’s close to midnight and all that gets done this late are simple piercings and tattoos that people will regret in the morning.   

“Baby, you got a customer up front.” Minho calls as he makes his way over to his station. The name prompts a fake gag and an award winning eye roll as you move across your station

“Do not call me that, ew.” The echo of Minho’s chuckle makes him sound closer than he is as he rounds the corner of the wall dividing your spaces. You’re a two person crew so you get to spend every second that you’re in this shop with your ex which wouldn’t be so bad if he and his new girlfriend weren’t all over each other every chance that they got. You love the girl and they’re a much better match than the two of you ever were but it’s been so long since you’ve been with someone that you feel like they’re just teasing you at this point.

“You used to love that.” With folded arms he leans against your side of the wall and you turn to him with a hand on your hip while the other one is full of supplies.

“And I used to love you.” He hisses, holding a hand over his heart with faux pain in his eyes. 

“Ouch.” You throw an empty ink cap at him and you both laugh. “Well since you don’t love me I’ll be right back.” He walks over to the front desk, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and heading out to the front of the shop.

“Where the hell are you going?” You whine, running up behind him. He turns to face you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. Does he really need to go get his dick wet right now? 

“Seriously, Min!” He laughs at your incredulous scoff as he throws on his jacket. “If I’m not back in an hour, close up for me, yeah?” With a quick wink and a smirk he rushes out of the door before you even have a chance to protest. You know that he’ll be back, he always comes back but you still want to give him a piece of your mind. You flip him off as you watch him pass the large front window and he kisses back at you. You love that you two had a clean break but god does he get on your nerves. 

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath as you look down at the form on the counter. “Hyunjin?” 

You hear shuffling in the very far corner of the waiting area as you flip through his paperwork. 

“That’s me.” You smile down at the clipboard once you hear his voice, at least he’s not some rude wasted guy. “You can come with me.” 

When you look up your jaw nearly hits the counter, is beautiful even the right word to describe this man? You don’t usually have a type but if you had to pick one it would be the man standing right in front of you. “ Uh, hey my name’s Y/n, I’ll be piercing you tonight and it uh-”

Gosh, his eye contact is intense, how does he do that? “It says here that you wanna get a horizontal eyebrow piercing?”

“Right.” He shakes his head as he rocks back and forth on his heels and you nod. 

“Awesome, it should be pretty quick, let’s do this.” You unlock the swing door and allow him back into your station. You decide to close the privacy curtain that separates your space from the rest of the shop since the chances of anyone else coming in is close to zero, you’re not as accessible as the shops close to town so this is the quiet hour for you.

Hyunjin watches as you start collecting the supplies that you’ll need. You move carefully, making sure that everything is just how you like it. “Have you been doing this for a long time?” You hadn’t even noticed the way that he seems to be nearly looking over your shoulder this entire time.

“Long enough.” He smiles at your shy laugh as you pick a marker from your cup. “We’ve owned this place for about three years.” 

“You and your boyfriend?” You scowl at his words, pulling a chuckle from his chest. “I guess he’s not your boyfriend.”

“He’s my ex, we already bought this place when we broke up so I couldn’t escape him.” A dramatic sigh follows your statement as you motion for him to sit down on the chair in front of you. “We're friends now, best friends, but I am a single girl.”

Hyunjin cocks his brow, causing you to accidently draw a line across his eyelid. “Sorry about that.” He chuckles and you smile at the soft sound. 

“It’s alright.” You clean him up and the feeling of his gaze burning into you makes you smirk. You’re more than used to clients staring at you, there are some that will try to make an ungraceful pass at you while they’re at it but for some reason having Hyunjin stare at you so intensely is welcomed? Maybe because he’s cute. That definitely helps. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You mark him perfectly this time and point him towards the mirror to check if he likes the placement. “Perfect.”

“Awesome let’s stick ya then.” You motion him towards your reclined chair and he gracefully fills the spot with his tall frame. “You’re not scared of needles are you?”

“Not at all.” The smirk on his face as he stares up at the ceiling catches you off guard. You’ve never seen anyone smile at the thought of getting stabbed before. You wipe your hands and snap on your gloves before moving in front of your rolling tray where all of your supplies are set up. “Did it hurt when you got yours?”

“Nope, but that’s probably because I did it myself.” You grab your scissor clamp and move next to Hyunjin. “Okay, so, the steps are to clamp the site, pierce it, feed the jewelry through and then you’re out of here.”

“Sounds easy enough, go ahead.” You nod leaning over him gently. This is the first time in all of your years as a piercing artist that you’ve felt self conscious about the deep V cut of your shirt. You usually couldn’t care less but right now you’re almost hyper aware of the way that you’re presenting yourself to the man in front of you. You’re also hyper aware of the way that he’s staring right at the lacey red of your bra that’s peeking out, or is it the studs of your nipple piercing pressing against your tight cotton shirt that’s caught his attention? Either way, the way that he’s staring is causing something that you haven’t felt in awhile to stir deep in your stomach.

“Gonna clamp you now, it shouldn’t hurt but just take a deep breath anyway.” You whisper as you turn his head a bit to get a better look at the piercing site. Now he’s really got a good view. He’s perfectly still as you clamp him and you praise him for every little thing that he does right, he seems to take a liking to that since every time something sweet comes out of your mouth he hums with contentment. 

“Ready for the stick?”

“Go ahead.” He licks his lips while his gaze is still trained on your chest and you can’t help but to push your thighs together. He seemed to have noticed since a ghost of a smile adorned his lips right after. 

“Breath in.” He follows your instruction and you position the needle right at the mark only pushing a bit to prepare him. “And out.” He was an easy stick, it went in perfectly. It was smooth and quick and he definitely hissed a moan when you did it. You stay in place, leaning over him with the plastic needle still in. 

“Everything good?” The sound of his moan rang through your ears as you avoided eye contact with him. He hums a confirmation, his eyes are shut now and his bottom lip is between his teeth. Good god. Did he not notice or does he just not care? Does he have a thing for pain? “I’m going to uh- feed the jewelry through.” 

You move his head a bit, trying to find the best position for the light to hit him. Why is the lighting so shitty all of the sudden? “Everything alright?” There’s a slight chuckle in his voice and you sigh.

“Yeah I just can’t get a good light right now. It’s like my damn shadow moved in the way.” You move a bit back and forth but nothing is comfortable enough. “Can I like… could you just move your hip over a bit?” He does as you ask immediately and you swiftly prop your knee up on the chair. 

“Thanks, that's so much better.” You grab the jewelry, and wedge it into the plastic needle for the feed through. “You’ll feel a bit of pressure, it might sting okay?”

“Mmhmm.” Just as you’re about to move the needle you feel the soft brush of his fingers on your inner thigh. That had to be an accident right? Do you want it to be an accident? Not really.

“One, two, go.” You slowly feed the jewelry through and this time a soft grunt leaves his lips but that’s not all. You freeze when you feel it, glancing down at Hyunjin while his eyes are still closed and his fingers grip the flesh of your inner thigh. “Good?”

“Great.” It’s a miracle that you didn’t moan at the feeling of him grabbing you but you decide to thank whatever higher power saved you instead of thinking about what if’s. One thing’s clear though; he definitely has a thing for pain.

“Let me just -” You reach over to your rolling tray and his grip on your thigh loosens but he doesn’t let go. “- Just gotta put the ball on the end.” You secure his jewelry, screwing on the end and wiping it down with bactine. 

“Done.” He sighs but he doesn’t move. You look down at him, expecting him to say something, but he stays silent. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the electricity that having his hand inches away from your heat is causing. “Wanna look at it?”

He nods, finally moving his hand, now maybe you can breathe normally. You both move at the same time but he sits up much slower than expected. “Feeling good?” Hyunjin hums as he adjusts his pants and makes his way over to the mirror, leaning in to get a good look at the new accessory. 

“So good.” Yup, he has a pain kink. It’s confirmed.

Once you’ve cleaned up all the immediate things and rid yourself of your gloves you move over towards him slowly. Usually you’d make small talk but you don’t feel too capable of doing that with the way that your core is pulsing with need at the moment. 

You watch as he studies the piercing. You should be looking at it too but you can’t focus on anything but the sharp beauty of his features and the way that his wine red hair falls against his temples and compliments the blush running up his neck. As much as you try to stop yourself you can’t help but indulge in taking him in further. You can’t help but to let your gaze run down the length of his strong arm and admire the way that his black sweats are hanging from his hips. Your eyes linger on the hem of his pants for a second too long and that’s when you notice it. Right below the perfect bow of his drawstrings is a delicious bulge that you desperately want to show attention to. Your tongue darts out, licking at the corner of your mouth a bit as you eye him. Snap out of it, come on.

“Think I should get a tattoo there?” Your eyes snap to his reflection but he’s already looking at you. Fuck, did he catch you staring? Of course he did, it was so obvious. “I’ve been thinking about it.” 

His smile makes you feel like you could explode at any second but you decide to try a bit harder to contain yourself. “I think that could be hot.” Fuck, no no no, why did you say that.

“Hot? You think so?” He cocks his eyebrow just like he did earlier but this time the gold stud adorning his thick brow makes a shiver run up your spine and sends a spark to your clit. He was already hot without the piercing but now it’s just unfair.

“Uh yeah, I do.” Before you can try to turn around and make your escape from further embarrassing yourself he turns to you. 

“Would you do it?” His eyes are focused on yours and for some reason you can’t find it in you to look away. 

“Do…your hip tattoo?” He nods and you shift your weight as you imagine the process. Could you even stand to be that close to his dick? You’re standing in front of him right now and you feel like you could combust from the eye contact. Surely you’ll melt if you end up having to stare at his hard dick for hours while he gets off on the pain of your needle for a second time. 

“I would.” Your answer leaves your lips in a half whisper before you can even think about it but the smile that pulls at his lips makes you forget your prior argument. “Just let me know when.”

“Do you have a card?” 

“Up front, I’ll give it to you with your care instructions.” You find yourself glancing down one more time before attempting to blink away all of your horny thoughts. As much as you want to fall to your knees and relieve him of his pain induced hard on you have to keep it professional, even if you were just caught staring at his dick print. “You paid when you came in, right?”

Quickly, you make your way around him to open your curtain and lead him to the counter. “Yeah I did.” You can feel him close behind you as you unlock the swing door to let him out.

“But you did such a great job.” The slam of the small door behind him makes you jump a bit but his following question is what really did it. “Do you take tips? Or could I give you more than that?”

You choke a bit on your inhale but at the same time there couldn’t possibly be a hint of oxygen left in your body with the way that he’s looking at you with his arms crossed and leaning on the counter. Your brain isn’t working anymore, it’s completely smooth as you stare back at Hyunjin’s cool smile. Hell, if he’s offering you’re going to take it.

Just as you’re about to calculate your own suggestive reply that familiar jingle echoes off the walls and your gaze lands on none-other than your godforsaken ex. He eyes you as you stand behind the counter with red cheeks and your palms spread and pressing into the desk. 

“All good?” He looks between you and Hyunjin with raised brows. You force a smile as you frantically scan the desk for the care instruction packet. 

“Yup, all good.” The sigh that follows your sentence is less than convincing but Minho lets it slide in the name of trusting you. You turn your attention back to Hyunjin who’s eyes were already on you. “So here are the care instructions. Don’t change it for about two months and uh, just make sure to keep it clean and um yeah everything that you need to know is in here.”

He takes the packet, brushing his fingers against yours in the process. Hopefully the way that you shivered wasn’t too obvious. Are you really that down bad? Usually you’re witty and flirty, you tend to have a pretty smart mouth with customers but as soon as you saw Hyunjin all of that went right out the window. 

“Your card.” He nods towards the display on the desk and you quickly grab one for him.

“It has the shop number and my instagram on there. If you want to contact me directly, Instagram is the best way to do it but I’m here almost everyday. If I’m not coming in, I'll post it on my story.” He flips the card between his fingers allowing you to get a good look at what you wish were still grabbing at the tender flesh of your thighs. Your focus breaks when he rubs the card between his fingers and a second one falls to the counter. “Oh, must’ve given you two by accident.”

“So I’ll message you.” Standing straight he slips the card into his pocket. “If I have any questions.” He takes a step back, taking you in one more time. 

“Yeah, I’ll answer as fast as I can.” 

“Baby, did you use the last of the caps?” Minho calls from the storage room and the scoff that follows makes Hyunjin laugh. 

“Stop calling me that for goodness sake.” With the flash of a quick smile and mumbled goodnight you leave Hyunjin at the front and head over to your annoying cock blocking ex. Once you get to him you see him leaning against the storage room door with his eyes on his phone screen. “I thought you were looking for caps.”

“Nah, figured that you needed me to save you. That guy should’ve been gone already.” Did he seriously just ruin any chance that you had at getting laid tonight? And by a man as hot as Hyunjin at that. 

“We were talking.”

“You don’t do small talk.” Minho’s pinched brows earns him an eye roll as you head over to your station. “So he wasn’t bothering you?”

“Far from it.” The way that you’re aggressively cleaning your tray gives Minho all the hints he needs but it would be out of character for him to just drop the topic.  

"Then what was he doing?" Minho asks in his teasing tone that you’ve grown to be more than familiar with. You pause and sigh as your mind lingers on the feel of Hyunjin’s fingers gripping you and the sounds he made with each hint of pain. 

"He was trying to make me interested." 

“Was it working?” The silence that followed his question spoke louder than any words could. “His number is on the form ya know.”

“Just lock up, Minho. I’m not breaking any privacy laws just so I can get fucked.” He throws his hands up in surrender, backing away and heading to the front. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to try and contain the many emotions running through you. You should’ve been on your game tonight but Hyunjin just threw you off. You haven’t been that attracted to anyone in so long that all of your skills went right out the window as soon as he looked at you. Maybe he’ll message you? Ask you a question or two and then ask you out. What if he doesn’t? What if Minho scared him off and you never hear from him again?

“Baby.” 

“Lee Minho, stop calling me -” You pause when you turn to him, looking down at the card he’s offering you between his fingers. “What?” He extends his arm to you further, earning his third eye roll of the day as you snatch the cardstock away from him.

“It’s my card.” You shrug at him.

“Turn it over.” Your pulse picks up a bit once you notice the red ink on the back of the card. Hyunjin’s name and number is written in pretty symbols right across the middle with a small note. ‘Call me, baby.’

“I’ll stop calling you that now.” 

Sleep didn't come easy last night but you sure did at the thought of Hyunjin. It doesn't help that you texted him immediately and he didn't waste a second before replying to you. Your night was spent getting to know him a bit as your mind danced on the idea of him fucking you into your mattress. The amount of time that you pretended that your fingers were his slender ones while you answered one of his questions is actually award winning. The taping of your cum covered fingers against your screen went on until you tired yourself out and fell asleep while waiting for his next text. 

“Going out.” Minho looked up from the sketch book in front of him just in time to watch as you grabbed your jacket from the chair next to his. 

“Did ‘baby’ call?” For the first time in a while you find yourself smiling and unbothered by his teasing. “She's smiling, did you finally catch a dick.”

“I'll let you know in a couple of hours.” The look on Minho’s face isn't one that you see often but it's your absolute favorite. “I'll be back, baby.”

You barely got to knock twice before the door to Hyunjin’s apartment swung open. He looks just as good if not better than he did last night and the fact that you’ve gotten to know him a bit better over text for the past couple of hours makes you feel like a college student sneaking into someone's dorm after curfew. It’s safe to say that you have a big fat crush now.

“Hey, nice piercing.” He pulls you into a quick hug before ushering you further into his place. Your eyes wander across his walls, taking in every detail. He really is the artsy type. 

“Thanks, some girl did it for me last night.” He watches you take in his space with hungry eyes, no matter how much he tells himself that he just met you and that he wants to take it slow he can’t seem to pace himself. The amount of times that he came into his fist last night just thinking of how pretty your nipple piercings must be and how your thighs would wrap perfectly around him is insane. Unfortunately, the orgasms didn’t put out the fire that burned for you deep in his stomach, it only made the flame bigger.

“Oh yeah?” You face him as you peel your jacket off slowly, letting it slide off of your shoulders and down your arms so gracefully that he couldn’t possibly ignore it. “Was she hot?”

His eyes fix on the fabric stretching tight against your chest, how dare you call that a shirt. It’s keeping little to nothing to the imagination but he can’t say that he’s mad at it. “So fucking hot, I couldn’t stop staring at her.”

Your jacket finds a home on the arm of his couch while you check out the paintings on his living room wall. The stretched canvas and sheets of beautifully stained paper are littered all over the ivory wall, serving as the only real means of decoration in this area of the room. “Do you think that she noticed?”

The energy around you turns electric as he steps up behind you, just close enough not to touch you. “I hope that she did.” 

“Why?” Your breathing is slow and shallow as your eyes run across the colors of the paintings on the wall. You’re not really taking in the beauty of the art anymore, you’re more concerned with the masterpiece standing behind you and what he’ll say next.

“So that she doesn’t feel surprised when I say -” He leans into you, fiddling with one of the paintings and pressing himself lightly into your back. A blistering heat washes over you at the feel of him against you. It’s so much more than you imagined it to be. “- That I think that she’s beautiful.”

He reaches for another painting, stepping forward just a bit to be closer to you. “And that as much as I want to take it slow and get to know her -” He slowly retracts his hand, stepping back and breaking all contact. You sigh, swallowing hard as you hang on each of his words. “I just can’t go another second without knowing what she feels like.”

You turn your head to the side, catching a glimpse of his burning gaze as he stares down at you. His dark eyes are undressing you before he even gets the chance to touch you. Something like you did to him yesterday. “I think that she’d feel the same way.” It’s a bit of a challenge but you manage to hold eye contact with him as you turn your body to face him.

“You think she’d let me touch her?” Eyes, lips, chest and repeat. That’s the pattern that his gaze follows while he waits for your answer. 

“I think she wants you to, so so badly.” His eyes meet yours and his hands are on you in an instant, grabbing at the plush of your waist and pushing you against the wall of art work behind you. 

“Thank god.” He whispers against your lips before attaching them in desperate hunger. The sound of paper and canvas falling to the floor is merely background noise in the heat of the moment.

He’s soft and sweet like honey, his touch is like satin against your skin and your head is fuzzy. Holy fuck. He swallows the moan that escapes you as you welcome his tongue into your mouth, offering his own sinful sounds as a counter. His hands are grabbing at the exposed skin of your stomach while he pushes your shirt up to expose more of you. Your hands fist the fabric of his shirt, you want him closer. You need him closer. He pulls away abruptly, staring down at you panting and flushed. He takes a step back and you take a step forward. 

“Think she’ll let me fuck her?” He continues to step back from you and you match each move that he makes. Your hands find the bottom hem of your shirt and you pull the fabric over your head, revealing your flimsy lace bra to him. A hiss falls from his lips as he falls back into his couch. Sitting with his legs spread and ready for you, the perfect seat. 

“You better fuck her.” Once you climb onto his lap his lips are back on yours in an instant. The kiss is hungry, desirous, passionate. It’s everything that you knew it would be and more. His palms rest on your breasts, kneading the flesh and flicking at the heart studs of your nipple piercings. A shiver runs over you at the feeling and Hyunjin smiles against you at the reaction.

“Sensitive?” He mumbles, following with a kiss and you nod with a deep moan. “Fuck.” He pushes your breast together, jiggling them in his palms while he watches with his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“I wanted to see these so badly last night.” You knew he was staring. “Wanted to run my tongue over these pretty little studs.” 

“What’s stopping you now?” You grind your hips into him, milking a choked moan from his throat. He’s so hard underneath you, his sweat pants are doing little to restrain his pulsing cock from pressing into your needy core but even that bit of pressure is not enough to satiate your hunger. His fingers peel down the lace of your bra and you watch as his tongue dips out of his mouth and swirls the silver jewelry. “Hyunjin.” 

He hums, content with the way that his name sounds falling from your pretty lips, it’s then that you remember last night. Praise and pain, those are his things right? Let’s test it out.

The feeling of his tongue laving over your sensitive peak breaks you out of your thoughts and fogs your mind all over again. He shows both of your breasts equal attention, wetting your nipples with long drags of his tongue followed by a skillful swirl of the muscle around your shiny silver bars. “ So good, oh my god.” He hums, sucking a bit harder at the sound of your sweet words. 

Your fingers lace through the wine red strands of his hair, scratching and rubbing at his scalp for a bit until he grazes his teeth over the sensitive peak of your nipple. You’re pulling at his roots before you can even process it but the pornographic moan that escapes him as he falls into your touch makes you happy that you did it.

“A pain slut?” Matching smirks paint your faces but his is quickly swept away when you bring your other hand up through his roots and pull again. “I knew it.” You grind into him, the moans escaping him are making you hungry for friction all over again. 

His hands grasp your hips, gripping you so tightly that you’re sure there will be beautiful bruises there in the morning. “What gave me away?” His eyes stay on yours as you hold his head back by his hair. Yesterday his gaze was blinding but tonight you find it easier to handle the heat that it causes to rise on the surface of your skin. You’re okay with going blind if he’s the last thing that you see. 

“Hm.” His eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your lips ghosting over his pulse “Maybe it was the way you moaned when I stuck you.” Sloppy kisses and small nibbles of his milky flesh draws a moan similar to the one that’s been playing in your head all night to leave his blushed lips.

“Or the way that you grabbed my thigh.” Your teeth sink into the flesh of his neck and the sound that he makes in response is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. “Or how hard you were when I was finished.”

“Do that again.” So biting is his favorite, huh? 

“Say please.” 

“Please, do that again. Bite me, harder. Please let me feel that again.” He’s begging? You’ve never been with a man who was willing to do that. A mumbled praise makes his cock twitch against you as one of his hands slips down to your ass, gripping the cheek firmly but not squeezing. Your teeth sink into his neck again, a deep guttural groan escapes him while his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass through your jeans. “Oh, baby.”

You pull away at the feeling of a warm spot beneath you. When you look down at your clothed cores the sticky wet spot presents itself to you. He came just from you biting him and he's still hard. No fucking way.

“You made a mess.” A familiar darkness falls upon his gaze and now it's your turn to moan from the grip he has on your hair. “Clean it up for me, angel.”

You crawl backwards off of his lap, lowering down onto your knees as his grip in your hair ensures that your eyes stay on his. He shimmies his pants down with his free hand, your eye contact falters for just a second so that you can steal a glance at his cock. He’s bigger than you thought he’d be, long and curved ever so slightly. The angry red tip is glistening with cum in the low light, you run your tongue along your lips at the thought of sucking him clean. 

“One day you’ll give me a pretty tattoo right here, won’t you?” He pulls your hair towards him, controlling your head so that you lean into his hip. You plant a sloppy kiss against his skin, nipping and licking like a desperate puppy. His cock twitches at the feel of your lips on the newly discovered patch of skin. “I’ll be hard as a rock with your pretty face so close to my cock.” He moves your head over just enough for you to lick up some of the cum from his flawless thigh. 

“You think you could do it? Think you could be that close to my cock and not put me in your mouth?” Little does he know that you’ve already thought about it and the answer is no. Hell no, absolutely not. “Maybe it would be me who loses control.”

He yanks back on your hair, lifting your head back up to meet his gaze. He brings his bent pointer finger to your chin and runs his thumb down your swollen lips. “I have a feeling that I’ll be addicted to this mouth.” His eyebrow piercing catches the light as he stares down at you and you can’t help but to feel turned on by the fact that you did that to him. You’re responsible for that pretty stud on this pretty man. 

“Let’s see if I’m right.” You open your mouth eagerly once he sits back and guides you over to his waiting cock. A hiss escapes him once you take him to the hilt, swallowing around him with watery eyes. He marvels at the way your pretty lips stretch around him, taking every single inch of him until his tip makes your throat bulge and your mouth water. You bob your head, licking and sucking him clean. The taste of his cum is so sweet, so perfect, maybe you’re just insanely horny or maybe he’s your new favorite candy. The only thing you’ll have a craving for from this point on. 

“That throat is taking me so well.” The vibration of your hum makes Hyunjin bite his lip as he watches you. You bring your hands up to his naked thighs and claw your nails lightly down the exposed skin. His cock twitches in your mouth and your pussy throbs at the feeling of it. You’re a big fan of foreplay, it’s super important and fun and everything but you would do anything to skip all of this and simply feel Hyunjin’s cock sink into your dripping pussy. “This is what you wanted yesterday isn’t it? This is what you wanted when you were staring at my dick?”

The deep rasp of his voice as he asks such filthy questions makes you press your thighs together, Hyunjin moves his foot in between your knees. Kicking your legs apart and taking away the relief you were chasing.

“Need me now?” Your desperate gaze up at him is all the answer that he needs. He lets go of your hair and you slowly come up off of his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip a bit and releasing him with a string of spit still connecting you. He offers you his hand to help you up off of your knees before dropping to his own right in front of you. 

With a burning gaze on your naked stomach he unbuttons your jeans and slowly drags them over the curve of your hips. His eyes scan every inch of newly exposed skin, leaving sweet soft kisses against the silky skin of your thighs. He takes a deep breath before pulling your panties down, his hands lingering against your bare skin as he admires your body. He leans in and places a soft kiss against your exposed center once you step out of your panties. What was supposed to be a simple kiss turned into a few kitten licks against your clit which then quickly evolved into long drags of his tongue through your folds while he palms your ass. 

“Hyun- Hyunjin holy fuck.” Your fingers thread into his dark strands again, lightly pulling at his roots and milking moans from him. “Please fuck me. Please just fuck me I want to feel you.”

“Gotta get you ready.” He spits onto your clit, watching it drip down your lips a bit before catching with his tongue and spreading it over your folds. “I need my girl dripping around my cock.”

His lips wrap around your clit and you throw your head back in a silent scream before looking down at him. His eyes are closed as he laps at your pussy, sucking and licking like his life depends on it. You admire the shimmer of his fresh piercing as you watch him, pathetic whimpers falling from you as he dangles your orgasm in front of your face. You’ve been thinking about him for hours and now you’ve finally got him. You get to cum on his tongue and watch him slurp up every drip of your essence.

“I’m gonna cum, oh my god.” Your grip on his hair tightens and he hisses against you. He swirls his skilled tongue around your swollen clit a couple of times and you can feel the blistering heat setting all over your body. You’re so close, it’s so good and then he pulls away.

“Hyun-” Your whine is cut off by the soft yet aggressive feeling of his lips on yours.

“I want you to cum on my cock.” The taste of your pussy on his tongue distracts you from the feeling of him guiding you to the couch. He pushes you down, watching you with a smirk as he pushes his damp hair out of his face. You watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, balling it up and using it to dap at the sweat on his forehead before throwing it to the side with the rest of your clothes. “Do me a favor.”

His fingers dig into your plush waist as he positions you. He props his knee on the soft cushion,  lining himself up with your entrance and teasing your sopping folds with his leaky tip. “Anything.” You fist the pillow right above you, placing it under your head to get a bit more comfortable. 

“Call me baby.” He slips into you before you can even reply to him, stretching you out so deliciously and filling up your gushing pussy until his tip kisses your cervix. The moan that echoes through his apartment is high pitched and airy, your lungs burn from the electricity charged air as you cry out for him, gripping at the couch cushions as you try to ground yourself.

“Baby.” The first time that his hips snap into you his jaw clenches and his eyes roll to the back of his head. His imagination barely did you justice last night, his fist is nothing compared to the way that your pussy is clenching around him. The ungodly squelches of his cock plunging into you sends shivers down his spine. 

“Fuck, you’re heaven.” He coos, the rasp in his voice makes your pussy clench around him as he presses your thighs back towards your chest. Hyunjin picks up the pace, snapping into you with unholy force. 

It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything but your own fingers and it’s been even longer since you’ve been fucked this good. Not even Minho can top this and he was the best fuck you ever had. The mascara stained tears running down your cheeks translates all of that to Hyunjin without you having to say a word, it’s not like you could say anything but his name even if you wanted to. Your orgasm creeps up on you again, dangling in front of you like bait for a fish.

“Hyun - Hyunjin please don’t stop. Gonna cum gonna -” You cry out as he slams into you, filling you to the hilt and staying as still as possible. “Please please, ‘s so close please.”

“Not yet, baby.” he beckons you with two fingers, motioning for you to sit up. He helps you up, shifting your position so that you’re on top of him. You clench around him at the movement and he hisses at the tight feel of you. He’s close too but he wants you to fall apart on top of him. He wants to see you fall apart up close so that he can fuck his fist to the memory of it for days after.

 “Ride me, come on.” A firm slap to your ass makes your hips buck into him as you start to move along his length. 

You’re fucked out, chasing your pleasure desperately on top of a pretty man with a pretty cock. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you against his chest when he suddenly starts fucking up into you. He’s impossibly deep and you find yourself gasping for air against his shoulder. Moans and grunts fill the hot air as you fuck each other. For each thrust into you, you grind down on his cock, keeping him deliciously deep in your cunt. Your teeth mindlessly graze over the slope of his shoulder before you bite down into him. Bite, lick, suck. That’s the pattern you follow, over and over again. Making him sing for you as his fingers caress your spine. 

“Come on, you can do it harder than that.” He gasps when you accept his challenge, biting into him with a bruising force. His thrusts become more erratic as he nears his climax but he’s determined to let you soak his cock before he pulls out. “Look at me, baby.”

He leans back into the sofa and his hand moves between your bodies once your eyes meet his. His middle and pointer finger rubs circles into your clit while he ruts up into you “Yes yes, yes ‘s so good.” 

“You like my cock, pretty girl?” The fog in your brain is so thick that you can’t help but to babble as your orgasm climbs up your spine for the third time tonight.

“Love it. Love cock, you -you’re cock. Hyunjin, ‘m gonna cum o-on your cock.” He thought that you were breathtaking before but watching you cock drunk and fucked out while you’re bouncing on his dick might be his favorite way to see you. 

“Go ahead, cum on my cock.” With a few more sloppy thrusts your body trembles against him as you come undone on top of him. He fucks you through it, keeping his fingers pressed against your clit as you squirm on top of him. Your vision goes white and there’s a ringing in your ears that blocks out every word of praise that falls from Hyunjin’s lips. The only thing that you can register is the pressure of his cock as he simultaneously abuses your cervix and clit. 

“Hyun- fuck fuckfuck. So much. Too much.” Once you find the strength to open your eyes you're met with Hyunjin smiling up at you with pinched brows. “You can take it.”

“Pull my hair, baby.” Your trembling hands find their way along the familiar path of his scalp seconds after his request. Pulling at his roots with a delicious force that makes Hyunjin’s eyes roll back as he licks his lips.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Moans and whines fall from you nonstop as he fucks into your swollen and sensitive cunt, the wet sound of your arosual where Hyunjin’s cock disappears into you echoes off the walls until he stops, breath hitching in his throat. “Come here.”

His hand is in your hair before you can protest, lifting you off of him and onto your knees. Your cunt feels so empty without him inside of you. “Gonna let me cum on those pretty tits?”

“Yeah, yeah please. Wan' your cum, baby.” He throws his head back, pumping his slick cock in front of your face while you mindlessly slur praises for him. “You’re so fucking pretty, please let me have it. Please, I wan' Jinnie’s cum.” 

“Baby, baby, cumming. I’m fucking cumming.” You both watch as thick ropes of his cum paints your breasts. Dripping over your nipples and the shiny studs just how Hyunjin pictured it last night. “Shit.” 

Your panting fills the room as you both take a second to come down from your high. Hyunjin offers you his hand, helping you up from your knees and catching you when you stumble a bit with a chuckle. “Let me clean you up so you can lie down.” He sits you on the couch, grabbing his sweats and pulling them on before making his way to the bathroom for a wet cloth. 

You blink a couple of times, trying your best to adjust to the light around you. It’s dim but everything seemed darker in your fucked out haze. You settle against the armrest of the sofa, smiling like an idiot while the pulsing of your clit reminds you of everything that just happened. Who would’ve thought that an eyebrow piercing could lead you to having the best fuck of your life. Just as you allow your eyes to flutter shut you feel a heavy vibration under you. With a groan you lift yourself up and search for the source. It’s your jacket, it must be your phone. Oh my gosh, Minho! You sit up with all the strength that you can muster, unlocking your phone and checking your messages. 

“Everything alright?” Hyunjin questions as he kneels in front of you with a warm cloth in hand.

“Yup, just fine.” You grin down at your screen before pushing your phone to the side and allowing Hyunjin to wipe you clean.

From Minho: Knew you weren’t coming back.  

the method || h.js

pairing: actor!joshua x actress!reader

summary: taking method acting to the next level

a/n: this was originally posted on my tom holland blog ( @wazzupmrstark )

warnings: swearing, smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut

word count: 4k

masterlist + ko-fi

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read it NEOWWWWW.

gold rush | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader

>>genre: pwp, smut, college au (kinda), established relationship

>>word count: 5k+

>>warnings: oral (m/f), fingering (f), phone sex, normal sex, explicit sex, slapping tits, slapping, crying, degrading, dirty talk, all the sex stuff, jks a lil mean and condescending but it’s very cool and sexy

>>notes: hello! this is my first post on here :) it’s part of a longer scenario i’m just seeing how it’s received before posting the full length version~~

>>summary: jk comes back from a weekend away and he wants to show you just how much he missed you. 

pt. 1 | pt. 2

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WAIT CAUSE THIS WAS REAL GOOD LIKE LITERALLY😩

𝜗𝜚 porn link!

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆

sweetheart!reader & rafe’s first night back together

the sounds of your sticky and suctioning pussy swallowing rafe’s flushed cock, coupled with yours and his needy and throaty moans echoed through his bedroom of grandeur. his sweat-glazed back laid flat against the headboard, rafe’s head throw back with parted pink lips, his hands laid firmly around your hips as your feverishly bounced up and down on his unforgiving length, “fuuuck, keep fuckin’ me jus’ like that, mama,” rafe groans, thin strings of the both of yours’ cum that connected the tops of his thighs to the undercurve of your soft ass, keeping you connected.

with your acrylic nails digging into the side of rafe’s neck, you flipped your sweat-out hair over your shoulder, licking over your swollen lips with a whine, “s-so good, papi — dame mas duro … please,” you gasped, doe eyes blown from overstimulation as rafe’s thick mushroom tip hit that deep sticky patch that sent you right over the edge.

complying to your request, rafe swings an arm around the small of your dewy back, leaning his forehead against your chest with breathy grunts, his warm tongue lazily lapping at your hardened nipples as he pulls you forward, his toned hips fucking just right up into you sopping wet pussy, “shit — missed fuckin’ this pussy,” rafe moans, softly biting down onto your nipple.

with a small hand cradling the back of rafe’s buzzed head, your back remains arched, your lips parted as the slaps of his hips slamming into your ass left you all cock-drunk and dumbfounded, a pleasurable cry escaping your hoarse throat, “please keep fucking me, just like that — please, papi, please,” you beg, craning your neck down to get a better look at rafe who is staring up at you, his own lips parted as he reached a hand up to mush your forehead against his.

keeping a hand on either side of your face, rafe sends harsh thrusts up into you, the two of you refusing to break eye contact as your pussy squelches with each deep thrust, “jesus, baby — gonna cum so fuckin’ deep in you — y’can take it, yeah?” rafe coos, nodding his own head against yours as you nod wordlessly, swallowing thickly.

“i can take it, i can take it,” you whine, your plump tits bouncing as rafe continues to fuck himself deeper into you.

“ah, fuck! c’mere, mama,” rafe huffs, pulling you down by the back of your matted head as he sends a few quick and hard thrusts into you. you were so fucked out, you didn’t even have it in you to cry, garbled moans and broken whimpers were all you had left.

grabbing ahold of the plush fat of your ass, rafe grinds your hips deep against his a few times, before fucking his hips up into you with on deep thrust of finality. scratching your sharp nails into the smooth skin of his chest, you whine as rafe’s warm cum fills you up just right — you felt so full, you were right at home. allowing your cute lashes to flutter together, you let out a pathetic and choppy hum of satisfaction as rafe presses a kiss to your temple.

“holy shit, y’took that so well, princess,” rafe praises, a spent chuckle leaving his lips as you weakly nod against his shoulder, “stay just like that, m’kay? need y’to have my kid,” he smiles, rubbing a soothing palm to the sticky skin of your asscheek.

and like the cum-drunk sweetheart you were, you simply smiled, pressing a light kiss to rafe’s jaw.