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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 28 days ago

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WHY IS THE COACH SMILING THO?

ೃ⁀➷ TAKE ME DOWN - minors do not interact!!

: ̗̀➛ synopsis: you’ve trained with felix forever. but when the national showcase spot comes down to a match between you two, he refuses to spar. you can’t help but think he’s underestimating you.

pairing: ~11k words, taekwondo au, non-idol!felix x fem!reader, best friends 2 lovers warnings: this fic deals with sensitive topics! fluff, angst, attack scene, violence + physical assault, mentions of blood + injury, profanity, mentions of sexism, first kiss and confession smut warnings: descriptive sex scene, dirty talk, oral (fem! receiving), praise kink, soft dom!felix, inexperienced!reader, corruption kink, unprotected sex, creampie, no minors. pls consume responsibly 💌

you’ve known felix since before he could tie his own belt.

before he even had a belt, actually. back when his dobok was two sizes too big and he tripped over the pant legs during warm-ups. back when he had a baby lisp and freckles.

by the time you’d figured out how to break a board clean down the middle, he still hesitated before every stomp, wincing like the wood might fight back.

when you earned your yellow belts, you both bragged to anyone who would listen—even your moms, even though they were the ones sewing your name tags onto the belts the night before.

when you got your blue belt, he high-fived you so hard your palm stung. he was starting to get faster by then—taller, too. his kicks had rhythm, and his eyes stayed locked on his targets like he actually meant business.

by red belt, you were the unofficial captains of your respective brackets. everyone at the academy knew who you were—the dynamic duo, the two best students who never got to fight each other.

because boys and girls didn’t spar together. at least, not officially.

so instead, you cheered for each other from the sidelines. when he won, he looked for you first. when you won, he was already on his feet, hands cupped around his mouth, screaming your name like it was the final bell at the olympics.

and you love him.

you’re not sure when it happened, only that it did—somewhere between his first growth spurt and the day he started tying his belt without asking for help. somewhere in the million hours you’ve spent beside him, laughing at his jokes, rolling your eyes when he winked at you after a clean landing, pretending your heart wasn’t pounding.

but you’ve never said anything. never dared.

because as close as you are, as easy as it is to be next to him, you don’t know if he’s ever looked at you and seen more than just you. his best friend. the girl that was like family to him.

and that was your normal.

after training hours, the gym was mostly empty, lights buzzing overhead. most students had gone home, lockers clanged shut. the floor was quiet, eerily so. you were toweling off, expecting to head out like always.

felix was beside you, lacing up his shoes. his locks were damp from sweat, sticking to his forehead, and his white t-shirt was clinging to his back where his chest protector had been. he looked just as exhausted as you felt, but in that calm, floaty way he always did after training. meanwhile, your limbs felt like noodles, and your ankle still throbbed from that one unlucky pivot during drills.

“let’s get out of here,” you muttered, slinging your duffel over your shoulder. “my legs are literally going to give out in the middle of the crosswalk.”

felix glanced over with a tired smile. “want me to carry you?”

you rolled your eyes, bumping his arm lightly. “not unless you wanna get kicked in the shin.”

“guess you’ve still got some energy, then.”

you let out a breathy laugh. this was the part of the day you always looked forward to, just you and felix, winding down, teasing each other, walking home under streetlights like nothing outside the dojang existed. you’d already turned halfway toward the doors when you heard it:

“y/n. felix.”

your heads turned at the same time.

your coach stood at the edge of the mat, arms crossed, that sharp look on his face. the kind you and felix both knew too well. he always had it on when something serious was about to drop.

you straightened instinctively. felix rose from the bench, blinking in surprise.

“over here.”

you exchanged a quick look before stepping forward together. your body ached, and your brain was already half in the shower, but something about his tone snapped you back to focus.

felix followed without hesitation, shoes squeaking faintly on the polished floor. he stood just to your right, where he always stood.

the coach began. “the national showcase is restructuring this year. there’s a new format which means one representative per academy. one. that’s it.”

you blinked.

“it’s mixed gender. they’re making it a headline match. top student from each school, regardless of gender.”

you swallowed, hard.

“i’ve narrowed it down to you two,” he continued. “it’s obvious. you’re the strongest candidates.”

you didn’t mean to feel surprised—but you did. you’d always known you were good. competitive. consistent. but felix was… felix. stronger. faster. a cleaner record. everyone said it. you’d said it, even.

your coach glanced at you, his expression suddenly a little sharper, like he could read your thoughts.

“and before you start thinking it should automatically be him,” he added, “don’t.”

you blinked again.

“you’re both black belts,” he said simply. “both leaders in this academy. you’ve trained just as long. and frankly?” his eyes met yours. “it would be damn good for people to see a girl out there. especially at a showcase like this. i’ve seen how the crowd reacts. half of them still think this sport belongs to the boys. i’d like to shut them up.”

a flush crawled up your neck.

you felt your chest lift slightly, adrenaline rushing through your veins again despite the fatigue. but then—

“so i need to see you spar,” he said.

your stomach dropped.

felix’s head turned toward him slowly. “sir…?”

the coach clarified. “doesn’t need to be long. maybe a few rounds. show me who’s sharper right now. whoever proves it gets the spot.”

you nodded, already adjusting your grip on your bag. “yes, sir.”

you were tired, sure—but this was the moment. you weren’t going to say no to this.

coach waved a hand. “get changed.”

you turned, already opening your bag when felix’s voice cut through the air:

“we’ve just had a long day.”

you stopped moving.

coach blinked. “what?”

felix didn’t raise his voice. he never did. but there was slight bite to his words. “we’ve been at it all evening. we’re not going to give our best right now. i think we should wait.”

you straightened slowly, hand frozen at the zipper.

“tomorrow, then?” coach asked, tone neutral but stiff.

there was a pause. too long of one.

felix’s throat worked. “i… don’t think that’s a good idea either.”

silence.

you turned your head toward him like you hadn’t heard him right. “you don’t want to spar for the spot? at all?”

the coach’s expression darkened. “this isn’t optional.”

“i know,” felix said quickly. “i’m not refusing training. i just… i’d rather not do this particular match.”

the coach stepped forward slightly, voice calm but commanding now. “is this personal, lee felix?”

felix bowed his head. “no, sir. it’s not.”

“then what is it?”

he hesitated. “i’m sorry.”

that was it.

no explanation. no excuse. no real answer.

the coach stared him down for a moment, visibly irritated now. “we don’t withhold effort when we’re tired. we don’t back out of challenges we’re prepared for. you know that.”

felix kept his head down. you gave felix a look—sharp. say something, your eyes seemed to ask.

but he didn’t. he stared at the floor like it might open up and swallow him.

coach let out a tight breath through his nose. “lee felix, i’ve never had to ask you twice. you’ve trained through sprains, migraines, stomach bugs—and now you’re telling me you can’t manage five minutes with the student who’s been your equal since day one?”

felix didn’t move.

your coach’s voice cooled. “maybe i should stop wasting time. if she’s ready, and you’re not, then maybe the decision’s already made.”

you straightened, taken aback.

he was serious.

your heart jumped—because the spot was right there, within reach.

but it felt… wrong. like someone handing you a gold medal after you’d tripped halfway through the race.

you took a step forward. “sir, i’d prefer if this was fair,” you said quietly, tightly. “i don’t want the slot just because he won’t step in. i’m willing to do the match right now.”

the coach looked between the two of you. “it’s no good if only one of you is. i’ll find another way to make the call.”

he turned and walked off, footsteps sharp on the mats.

you were left standing beside felix, still gripping your duffel, heart pounding—not from nerves, but from frustration. from how fast he’d shut it down. from the fact that he hadn’t even looked at you.

you turned to him. “what was that?”

he didn’t answer.

“felix.”

still nothing.

so you pushed him.

not hard—but enough to make his shoulder swing back. enough to demand a reaction.

“what the hell is going on with you?” you asked, voice low and furious. “you could’ve at least tried. you didn’t even try.”

his mouth opened, then closed. he looked away. and that’s when the edge of your anger faltered—just a little. because he looked off. not tired. not pissed. just… like something inside him had short-circuited.

“are you sick?” you asked, eyes narrowing. “did you pull something? what’s going on?”

he shook his head slowly. “no.”

“then what is it?” your voice dropped, a thread of confusion laced through your frustration now. “you never talk back to the coach. so why now?”

“i couldn’t make him do something i didn’t want to do,” felix said, voice low but steady.

you blinked, hard. “i thought you’d take it,” you went on, the words coming faster now, all the confusion folding in on itself. “haven’t we always talked about this? since we were kids? that one day we’d face off for real? no bracket rules, no holding back?”

silence.

“and now we get that chance, and suddenly you’re… what, backing out because you don’t feel like it?”

his head finally lifted.

and this time, when he met your gaze, there was something fractured in his eyes. something soft, but aching. something like guilt.

“that’s the problem,” he said.

you blinked. “what?”

he exhaled, like the words were fighting their way out.

“that’s the problem, y/n. i can’t go against you.”

your breath caught.

he didn’t say it like a choice. he said it like a confession. like it physically hurt to even consider it.

you blinked. “what—what do you mean you can’t?”

“i mean i can’t step onto that mat and treat you like—like just another opponent.”

you stared at him, stunned. “so… what, you think i’m too soft? too weak? you think you’ll hurt me?”

he went silent. just stood there, jaw tight, eyes unreadable.

that was louder than any answer he could’ve given you.

you stepped back, chest tightening.

you’d always known people would see you that way. you’d heard it from opponents. from judges. from random boys at tournaments who asked if you needed help tightening your gear.

but you never thought felix would be one of them.

never thought he would look at you and see someone he couldn’t even be bothered to fight.

your mouth was dry. you could feel the heat crawling up your neck, the burn behind your eyes rising faster than you could blink it away.

“i can’t believe you,” you said, quietly at first.

felix’s brows drew together. “y/n—”

“no.” you shook your head, backing up another step.

“i wasn’t trying to make you feel—”

“like what?” you snapped. “ like i’m only strong when i’m not standing across from you?”

he winced.

and for a second, you hated that it still hurt to see that look on his face.

you reached down, fingers trembling slightly as you picked up your duffel, slinging it over your shoulder with more force than necessary.

“well,” you said, voice tight. “i hope you have a great time at the showcase.”

felix blinked, eyes narrowing.

“coach is going to end up picking you anyway. let’s not pretend this is still a decision.” he opened his mouth, but you cut him off before he could say a word. “so thanks for at least giving me a chance,”

you turned on your heel, your shoes squeaking faintly on the mat.

“y/n—” he called, stepping after you. “wait—let me walk you home.”

you froze with your hand on the door. “right. because i can’t even handle the sidewalk alone now, right? because that’d be too dangerous for someone like me?”

“that’s not what i meant,” he said, quickly. “i just—”

“i’m fine, felix,” you bit out. “i’ve always been fine.”

you yanked the door open. it slammed against the wall with a heavy, echoing thud.

and then, without waiting for him to try again—

you walked out.

the door shut behind you with a hollow click.

the night air hit harder than you expected.

cooler than it was earlier. sharper, too.

you tightened your grip on your duffel strap and kept your head down, letting the fluorescent gym lights fade behind you. the quiet was jarring after hours of shouting, movement, sweat hitting the mats. now it was just your footsteps on concrete. just the sound of your breath, still not quite steady.

you walked fast. because you were mad.

mad at felix. mad at yourself. mad at the fact that you’d even thought today could end differently.

your ankle ached with each step, a dull throb from sparring earlier, but you didn’t slow down. you didn’t want to give yourself time to think. not yet.

the sidewalk curved near the intersection—past the convenience store, a shuttered nail salon, and a tiny karaoke bar squished between two office buildings. the place you’d passed a hundred times with felix. usually loud, full of students after school, music bleeding out through the door.

but tonight, it was nearly empty.

just one guy outside, leaning against the side wall with his hoodie pulled up, a cigarette dangling from his fingers.

you wouldn’t have looked twice, except—

he turned slightly when you passed. like he heard your footsteps and recognized them.

and then he said your name.

“y/n?”

you slowed instinctively, brows furrowing as you turned.

he looked familiar. familiar in the way a name itched at the back of your mind.

you squinted in the glow of the pink neon light overhead. “sorry, do i know—”

“minjae,” he said, giving you a small, unreadable smile. “you probably don’t remember me.”

but you did. sort of.

you’d seen him at the academy when you were younger. he was a bit bigger. older. one of those students who always kicked a little too hard. you didn’t know much about him—just that one day, he was gone.

no warning. no goodbye.

and no one talked about it.

you’d asked once, and someone said, “he had issues.” that was it. like the words were enough to shut the whole thing down. now he was standing three feet in front of you, hands in his pockets, watching you with a look that made your spine go stiff.

“didn’t think you’d be walking alone,” he said. “not after hours.”

“i’m not far,” you replied, trying to keep your voice casual. “i live close.”

he nodded like he already knew that.

“i can walk you,” he offered. “if that’s okay.”

you hesitated.

everything in your gut told you to say no. but something about the way he said it—like he expected you to agree, like he was giving you permission to feel safe—froze your voice in your throat.

“…sure,” you said. “if you want.”

you hated the way it sounded when it left your mouth.

he smiled again. the two of you fell into step. the night felt quieter than usual—like the world had ducked out early, leaving you behind.

“so you’re still with the academy?” he asked, his voice easy. too easy.

you nodded. “yeah. still training.”

“and felix?” he asked, his gaze flicking sideways.

you paused for half a breath. “he’s good.”

minjae hummed. “still coach’s favorite?”

you didn’t answer.

“thought so,” he muttered. “guess nothing’s changed.”

you tried to shift the conversation. “what about you? where do you train now?”

he didn’t answer right away.

then: “i don’t.”

you looked at him. “oh?”

“yea, your dojang was the last one i went to. i got kicked out,” he said. like he was proud of it.

your stomach tightened. you slowed slightly, just a step, but he matched your pace without missing a beat.

you forced a laugh. “really?”

“mhm. put some kid in a coma.”

your blood ran cold.

“he didn't tap out,” he said. “at least not fast enough. or maybe i couldn’t stop. it’s kind of a blur.”

you stopped walking.

he didn’t.

he took another slow step toward you, and when he noticed you’d fallen behind, he turned—still smiling.

“you didn’t hear that part, huh?” he said.

your legs felt rooted to the pavement, your breath shallow in your chest.

minjae tilted his head, hands still shoved casually in his hoodie pocket like you were just two old friends on a walk.

“i’ve seen you walk home, you know,” he murmured. “after training. you always think no one’s watching.”

your blood ran cold.

“but you’ve always got felix on your tail,” he added with a crooked grin.

your jaw clenched. “you’ve been watching us?”

he smiled wider. “not always. just… when it felt right.”

your fingers itched to move, to reach for your bag, your phone, something—but your feet still hadn’t moved. you didn’t want to provoke him. didn’t want to show fear. but your heart was thudding against your ribs so hard it felt like it might crack through.

“i mean, i get it,” he continued, ignoring you completely. “obviously, felix has to make sure no one gets too close, right? can’t have anyone messing up his little golden girl. not when he’s the only one who gets to keep you all polished up.” he mimicked the voice mockingly, then took another step toward you.

“i think you should back up,” you said, voice low but steady. at least, you hoped it sounded steady.

he let out a quiet laugh, like your warning actually amused him. then he took another step. and another. and before you could even fully shift your stance, his hand shot out and he slammed you back against the wall. your shoulder cracked hard against the brick, and before you could react, his hand came up, flat against your mouth.

it was fast. brutal.

the street behind you was quiet, the sidewalk barely lit. no one around. the alley between the buildings was narrow—tight enough that it felt like a trap. and he knew it.

panic flared sharp in your chest—but not enough to drown you.

because your body moved on instinct.

you brought your knee up hard, hitting groin, enough to make him grunt and lose balance for a second.

you twisted your wrist, yanking it free just enough to slip your hand up and drive your fist straight into the side of his face—knuckles connecting just beneath his eye.

he stumbled and swore.

you ducked, slipped out of the corner, and dropped your duffel bag in the same motion.

he came at you again.

no control. just pure aggression.

you blocked the first wild punch. dodged the second. landed a kick to his ribs—but he recovered too fast.

he lunged, grabbed the front of your jacket, and shoved you again. your head hit the wall this time,.

“bitch,” he spat, eyes dark, wild. “you think you can fight me? you think that fancy footwork means anything out here?”

you tried to move—tried to dodge—but he was heavier, and faster than you expected in that moment. all that training, all that discipline, and it still didn’t matter when someone was wild enough to throw everything out the window.

his other hand reached up, fumbling along the ledge just above your head.

you didn’t realize what he was grabbing for—until your eyes followed the motion.

there. a broken brick, half-buried in dust, tucked between chipped plaster and rusted railing. left behind from old construction.

his fingers curled around it.

and your blood ran cold.

you thrashed, feet scraping against the wall, heart slamming in your chest—but his arm reared back.

he swung.

and missed your head.

the brick slammed into your shoulder with a sickening sound, and your body jolted with the force of it. pain shot down your arm—sharp, white-hot, paralyzing for a second. you gasped, as you crumpled slightly, the impact stealing your breath.

debris rained down—bits of plaster and grit stinging your face.

“shit,” minjae muttered, stumbling slightly.

you barely had time to blink before his arm went up again.

but he didn’t get the chance.

because something ripped him off you.

he was yanked backward so hard, he stumbled—crashed into the opposite wall. and then fists.

fists everywhere.

not wild like minjae’s. not undisciplined. but brutal.

felix.

minjae tried to stagger upright, off-balance, swaying like alcohol was finally catching up. he barely got his hands up before felix spun—one fluid motion, clean and fast—and landed a roundhouse kick to the side of his face so hard it echoed down the alley.

minjae’s body dropped like dead weight—slammed to the pavement, dazed, bleeding, barely able to move.

but felix didn’t stop.

he grabbed the front of minjae’s hoodie, dragged him halfway up, and punched—a sickening thud of knuckles on bone.

“you’re mental,” felix spat, voice shaking with fury. “you’re absolutely fucking mental—what the hell is wrong with you?”

another hit.

“you psycho piece of shit—”

another.

minjae gasped something. a plea, maybe. slurred and broken. but felix didn’t hear it.

or maybe he did, and he didn’t care.

you pressed yourself against the wall, breath shallow, shoulder throbbing, the cold concrete biting into your back as the shock finally started to settle into your bones.

you’d never seen him like this.

you didn’t know anyone could look like this.

minjae was barely conscious now—his body limp in felix’s grip, blood dripping from his nose, lip split, one eye already swelling shut.

“felix,” you croaked.

he didn’t move.

“felix,” you said again, louder this time—your voice breaking.

still nothing. his jaw was locked, his body coiled, eyes wild and fixed on minjae like he hadn’t quite realized the fight was over.

you pressed your palm against the cold ground, tried to push yourself up, wincing as your shoulder flared with pain.

“lixie,” you shouted, panic rising in your chest now. “stop! you have to stop—he’s done, you’ll get in trouble—”

still no reaction.

so you did the only thing you could think of.

you reached up with your hand and yanked the back of his hood. hard.

felix spun around, eyes wild, breath ragged.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he barked. “you shouldn’t even be—don’t touch me right now,”

his hands twitched at his sides, fists still clenched.

but then—

you felt him shudder.

his eyes darted down, finally seeing you—really seeing you— the dust on your face, the way your arm was wrapped around your shoulder like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

and that’s when minjae started to crawl.

slow.

stumbling. bloody. but not unconscious.

felix moved like he was going to lunge again—but you caught his wrist.

“don’t.” you said softly.

you then looked at minjae dead in the eye—every nerve in your body on fire.

“leave,” you said. “now.”

his jaw clenched like he wanted to say something—wanted to blame, defend, spit—but nothing came out. just a nod. slow. he stumbled to his feet, swayed, and started limping down the alley without a word.

and he didn’t look back.

not once.

as soon as minjae disappeared around the corner, your body finally gave out.

the adrenaline drained like water from a cracked glass—fast, all at once. your knees buckled, and the sharp pulse in your shoulder flared violently.

felix moved faster than gravity.

he caught you before you hit the ground, arms wrapping around you like instinct. one arm cradled your back, the other held your good side carefully—like he was afraid if he touched too hard, you’d shatter.

“i’ve got you. you’re okay,” he murmured, breath still coming fast.

your head dropped to his shoulder, dizzy, lightheaded, but finally still. you could feel his heartbeat through his hoodie—racing, unsteady.

he opened his mouth to speak—

“stop,” you whispered.

his throat bobbed as he swallowed. “y/n—”

“no,” you said, weak but clear. “you’re gonna say ‘i told you so.’ you’re gonna say, ‘i told you not to come out here alone.’”

you felt his jaw shift where your forehead rested against him.

but he didn’t say that.

“i was so scared,” he murmured, voice barely above a breath. “i thought—” he broke off, his breath catching. “when i turned the corner, and i saw him over you—”

you felt his grip tighten, just slightly. not enough to hurt. just enough to make sure you felt it.

“i thought i was too late.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, your cheek brushing his as you moved.

your voice was quieter now. “now you really think i’m weak.”

his eyes snapped to yours—wide, startled, like you’d just said the most backwards thing he’d ever heard.

“no,” he said immediately. “god—no.”

you looked away. “you saw what happened. you saw what i let him—”

“i know you fought,” he said, cutting you off, voice firm now.

he cupped your jaw gently, guiding your gaze back to him.

“i’ve never thought you were weak.”

you blinked, throat burning.

“not once.”

“then why—” you started, voice raw.

but you didn’t get to finish.

because felix leaned in and kissed you.

right there.

on the dirty, cracked pavement of an alley that still smelled like dust and blood and fear.

his lips crashed into yours with something desperate, something breaking—like he’d been holding it back for too long and couldn’t keep it down another second. it wasn’t perfect. it was messy and trembling and full of all the things he couldn’t say.

and for a second, you froze.

caught between pain and shock and the wild, spinning realization that he was kissing you.

then—

then you melted.

your fingers twisted into the front of his hoodie, and you kissed him back with everything you had left. because felix was holding you like you were something fragile and powerful all at once.

and for the first time all night, you didn’t feel broken.

you felt wanted.

felix pulled away first, barely—his forehead still pressed to yours, breath shallow, like he was scared the moment would vanish if he let it go too fast.

your eyes stayed closed for a second longer, lips parted, heartbeat still stuttering in your chest.

then you whispered, “come over.”

he blinked, just enough space between you now to see the confusion flicker in his eyes.

you swallowed. “to my place. so we can get cleaned up.”

he nodded. soft. steady. like there wasn’t anywhere else in the world he’d rather be.

you let out a shaky breath, and slowly, with his help, pushed yourself off the cold pavement.

the walk home was quiet.

your shoulder throbbed with every step, and felix stayed close the whole way, not touching you unless he had to, but always near.

by the time you reached your front door, your hands were shaking too much to get the key in on the first try. felix took it gently from your fingers and opened the door himself.

your family was away—out of town for the weekend—so the house was still, lights dim, the kind of hush that made every sound feel louder. you motioned toward your room and he nodded, heading down the hall while you slipped into the bathroom.

the adrenaline had long since worn off.

you changed into a loose cami top, careful with your movements, but still winced when the fabric brushed your shoulder. then you caught sight of it in the mirror.

a bruise, already darkening, was blooming across your skin—spreading like a storm cloud across your collarbone and creeping toward the edge of your chest. a band aid stuck on where the brick had torn through skin.

then turned off the light and walked back down the hall.

your room was quiet when you stepped in. felix was sitting on the edge of your bed, hoodie discarded, head in his hands. he looked up when he heard you—eyes flicking quickly to your shoulder, then back to your face.

and he looked like he’d just been punched again.

you crossed the room slowly and sat down beside him.

“i cleaned it up a bit,” you said, voice low. “disinfected it, but… i’ll go to a clinic in the morning. just to be safe.”

felix didn’t respond right away.

he was staring down at your hands now—resting in your lap, still faintly trembling. his own were curled together, clenched so tightly his bandaged knuckles had gone pale.

“felix,” you said gently.

still nothing.

so you turned to look at him fully.

his jaw was tight. his throat moved like he was trying to swallow words that wouldn’t go down. and his eyes were glossy, wide, swimming with something awful and barely contained.

you reached out, hand brushing lightly over his clenched fist.

“it’s okay,” you said softly. “it could’ve been much worse.”

his shoulders slumped at your words, like the weight of what didn’t happen was finally crashing down on him. he let out a shaky breath, and your heart ached just watching him unravel—still so tightly wound even in your room, even after everything. you leaned forward and kissed him again.

not desperate like in the alley. not rushed, not trembling.

just warm and reassuring.

his lips met yours like a reflex. his hand lifted slowly to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned into you, like he didn’t know how to stop once he started.

“i’ve wanted you,” he whispered against your lips. “for so long.”

you smiled into the kiss, brushing your nose against his. “me too, felix.”

you kissed him again, a little deeper this time, and he breathed out like he’d been holding it in for years.

“you deserve everything,” he murmured between kisses, his forehead pressed to yours. “every chance, every opportunity. you were always so strong, always learned so quick.”

you stilled.

the words landed quietly in your chest, like a gentle weight settling where doubt used to live.

“you’re not weak.” he added. and then—soft, raw—he said, “i just… i couldn’t go against you because…”

he swallowed, voice barely a breath now.

“if i saw you as an opponent… then maybe i could’ve done it,” he said. “maybe i could’ve stepped on that mat and said yes.”

he looked at you then—really looked. eyes shining with something that had nothing to do with tears now. something heavier. deeper.

“even if i saw you as a friend i could have done it. but i don’t see you that way, y/n.”

your heart beat once—loud.

his voice dropped, low and unguarded. “i see you, and all i can think is how badly i want to kiss you. how badly i want you to want me like that, too.”

his hand found your knee, tentative but deliberate, fingers curling slightly like he wasn’t sure how far you’d let him go.

“i want to kiss you ‘til you forget what it felt like to be scared,” he said. “i want to feel you underneath me, all of you, every part—because i’ve never wanted anyone like this. not once.”

your breath caught.

“i couldn’t do it, not because i think you’re incapable,” felix continued, his voice rough with something barely held back. “but because i love you.”

he didn’t flinch when he said it—didn’t stammer, didn’t hide. just looked at you like he’d already known it for years, and tonight had finally broken the last wall between knowing and saying.

your lips parted, but no sound came out.

so he kept going.

“i think i’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen,” he whispered. “and i just… kept hoping you’d figure it out first. because i didn’t want to lose what we had. i didn’t want to screw it up.”

you blinked hard. once. twice. the tears were already gathering. your throat felt tight.

“i didn’t know,” you said, voice cracking, soft and small and trembling. “i mean—i think i did. i just didn’t want to ruin it either. i didn’t want to be wrong.”

felix exhaled—relieved, pained, everything at once.

“i love you too,” you said, barely above a whisper. “god, i think i always have.”

and then it broke.

you folded into him, and he caught you like gravity, arms wrapping around your waist, your hands finding his shirt, clutching at him like you couldn’t get close enough. you buried your face in his neck and tears spilled.

and he held you.

held you like you were something sacred.

like everything he’d ever wanted had been right in front of him all along.

you pulled back just enough to look at him, your eyes wet, your mouth trembling.

and then you whispered, “you can have me.”

felix didn’t speak. he didn’t need to.

his lips pressed to yours again. his hands cupped your face first—warm, trembling slightly—then slid down, fingers brushing the curve of your neck like he was memorizing the shape of you.

your hands moved too. hesitant at first, but then bolder, threading through his hair. it was still damp in places, soft between your fingers. you tugged lightly, and he let out a breath against your mouth that was half a moan, half a surrender.

his tongue swept into your mouth and you gasped softly against his lips, body tightening instinctively at the heat curling low in your belly. you hadn’t expected it to be like this—every kiss landing like a jolt straight down your spine, your hips shifting without thinking, seeking friction that wasn’t there yet.

and he noticed.

he pulled back a little, breathing hard, lips pink and swollen, eyes searching yours. his gaze dropped—slow, deliberate—and lingered.

he looked at you like he was seeing you for the first time. not the uniform. not the sweat. not the bruises or the pain. just your body—loose cami thin against your chest, nipples stiffening beneath the fabric, your thighs bare where you’d changed into sleep shorts, your skin still marked faintly from the alley and the fight. and somehow, he looked at you like you were untouched. like you were the best thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

your breath caught.

he touched the hem of your top gently, then looked up at you again. “have you ever done this before?”

you opened your mouth to speak—but no words came out at first.

instead, you shook your head once, slow. “not very much.”

you remembered his story. he’d hooked up with someone in his last year in highschool. you didn’t ask for details back then because it hadn’t been your business.

felix’s eyes stayed on yours, never darting away, even as his hand traced the hem of your cami, his fingers brushing just above your navel like he was testing how much of you he could touch without making you flinch.

“i’m gonna take care of you,” he whispered. “don’t worry.”

you nodded, breath shallow, chest rising fast beneath the thin fabric. the heat between your legs had returned tenfold, thick and pulsing, almost unbearable now that his mouth wasn’t on you. your thighs pressed together instinctively, trying to chase that pressure again.

felix noticed. he always noticed.

he leaned down and kissed you once—softly, slowly, a kiss that lingered at the edges of your mouth like he didn’t want to leave any part of you untouched. his tongue slipped past your lips again, coaxing yours out with him, kissing you deeper until you whimpered against him.

his voice was soft, barely audible. “can i take these off?”

he gestured to your shorts.

you nodded, heart pounding.

his hands were steady as he slid them down—past your hips, your thighs—until you lifted one leg, then the other, and they were gone. his eyes flicked up your body again, drinking in every inch. you could feel your pulse in your throat, in your wrists, between your legs—hot and wet now, your core aching with anticipation.

his breath warmed the skin of your inner thigh as he sank down between your legs, his broad palms gliding slowly up the outside of your thighs to your hips, then back down again, deliberate and steady like he was grounding you, like he wanted every nerve in your body humming in anticipation. you were down to just your panties now—thin, soft cotton clinging wet between your legs, the fabric nearly translucent in the low light.

felix settled between your knees, kneeling at the edge of the bed, shoulders tense, jaw tight with restraint. his hands curled around your thighs and gently pushed them wider, the mattress shifting beneath your hips as you let him spread you open. you bit your lip, your heart hammering. his eyes never left your body.

then he leaned in.

at first, it was just his breath against your core—hot and steady, making your thighs tremble. and then his nose nudged gently against the damp spot between your legs, his mouth still just hovering, teasing. he inhaled softly, a sound low in his throat.

“mmm.” his eyes fluttered shut for a second. “you’re soaked,”

his fingers slid up the inside of your thighs again, brushing the elastic edges of your panties, then tracing along the drenched fabric—one stroke, featherlight, straight over your slit. your back arched instinctively, a gasp catching in your throat.

felix looked up at you again, eyes dark—but soft. always soft.

“yes,” you breathed. “please.”

his fingers curled around the sides of your panties and began to pull them down—inch by inch, excruciatingly slow. the wet fabric peeled away from your heat, sticking slightly before slipping down your thighs. you lifted your hips to help him, and he slid them down past your knees, your calves, and finally let them fall to the floor.

and then he just stared.

like he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“fuck,” he whispered, blinking slowly, almost dazed. “look at you…”

you flushed under the weight of his gaze, instinctively starting to move your legs to close—but his hands came up immediately, pressing gently on your thighs to keep them open.

“no. let me see you,” he said, his voice low and thick. “you’re perfect. so fucking perfect.”

his fingers ghosted back up your thighs, then parted you gently, and his breath hitched again.

“you’re dripping,” he said, almost to himself.

and then he leaned in.

he kissed your pussy—soft and slow, lips plush against your folds, his tongue just barely tasting at first. you gasped at the contact, your hips jerking, thighs tensing under his hands—but he moaned softly in response, hands tightening just enough to keep you steady.

“oh my god, felix—”

he didn’t answer. he didn’t need to. his tongue dragged up from your entrance, slow and sure, then circled your clit in gentle, teasing flicks. your back arched hard, and your hand flew down to his hair again, gripping the strands tight. he moaned when you did it—like the taste of you and the feeling of your fingers pulling at his scalp were driving him insane.

felix’s tongue was still moving, slow and insistent, when he suddenly paused—pulling back just enough to lift his face from between your thighs, his mouth slick with your arousal, lips parted, chest rising fast.

“you okay?” he said, voice low and rough, almost hoarse.

the absence of his tongue made your whole body twitch, your hips instinctively lifting like you could pull him back by gravity alone. your fingers stayed tangled in his hair, breath catching as you blinked down at him, cheeks flushed and heart pounding.

“yes,” you whispered. “i’m good—i’m… so good.” your voice wavered slightly, thick with need, but the truth burned behind every word. “i’ve wanted this for so long, felix.”

his eyes lit up—hungry, molten, tender.

“yeah?” he murmured. “been thinking about me down here?”

you whimpered, thighs trying to close from the ache. he grinned.

then he dove back in.

no hesitation this time. he tilted his head, shaking it just slightly side to side as he pushed deeper—his nose pressing tight against your mound, his tongue flat and wide as he licked straight up through your folds, deep and slow and relentless.

“ah, fuck—!” you cried out, hips lifting again.

and then—he pushed his tongue in.

he fucked you with it, wet and slow, making obscene, soaked sounds as your pussy clenched around nothing but his mouth. the tip of his tongue flexed as he pushed in again and again, steady, deliberate, your breath breaking on every push.

“felix—”

he groaned in response, and the sound vibrated through your whole core. his grip on your thighs tightened, holding you wide and open while his face stayed buried in your cunt, his jaw slick, tongue working like he was obsessed with the way you tasted, the way you moved, the way you shook every time he stroked just right.

he pulled out, licking a long, slow path all the way up your slit.

when he reached your clit, he swirled his tongue in soft, perfect circles—each one just slightly firmer, wetter, faster than the last. your fingers yanked his hair hard again, but he only hummed and pressed deeper.

he latched onto your clit again and sucked.

your entire body bowed off the bed with the force of it. his tongue flicked beneath the suction, hot and wet and insistent, your entire world collapsing to the point of contact between his mouth and your pulsing clit.

and he didn’t stop.

he moaned into your pussy, deep and guttural, the sound vibrating through every inch of you as he kept sucking, kept devouring, his tongue flicking in tight, practiced strokes. you could barely breathe, your hips rolling against his mouth, thighs trembling so hard you thought you might snap in half.

then he did it again—shook his head side to side, slow at first, then deeper, rougher, like he was trying to burrow into you, nuzzling against your pussy with pressure. your voice cracked open while your vision blurred.

that knot you knew too well from your own fingers under the covers, from those nights spent grinding into your palm with the lights off and felix’s name buried in your throat—was back. but this time, it wasn’t your imagination. it wasn’t your hand. it was him. his tongue. his mouth. his everything.

and it was so much better.

the feeling was sharp, coiled, rising fast. you gasped, moaned, writhed under him, the sweat slicking your chest, your hands sliding from the sheets back into his hair again, anchoring yourself to him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

“felix—” you panted, voice breaking, hips arching, “i'm gonna— i'm so close—”

so he didn’t speak. he didn’t risk it.

because if he said a word, if he so much as whispered your name, you’d lose it completely. and he wanted to guide you through it. wanted to feel you come undone beneath him.

so he just stayed right there, face buried in your cunt, lips suctioned around your clit with steady, maddening precision, tongue flicking faster now in that exact rhythm that had your whole body twitching. his hands gripped your thighs tight, grounding you, holding you open, thumbs brushing your skin in soft, circling strokes—soothing in contrast to the ferocity of his mouth.

you sobbed—high, strangled.

your fingers clutched his hair like a lifeline, but you didn’t pull. you couldn’t. you were too far gone. your eyes rolled back as your vision blurred and your back arched, heels digging into the mattress, body drawing taut like a bow.

he felt it.

felt you tighten. felt your cunt pulse.

your orgasm ripped through you like fire.

you convulsed under him, crying out loud and broken, your body seizing in wave after wave of climax that felt like it would never end.

he guided you through it and stayed steady. his hands never let go. his tongue never missed a beat. and when your cries turned to gasping whimpers, when the shudders slowed, when your limbs finally collapsed back into the mattress, trembling and spent—

only then did he lift his head.

his lips were swollen, slick with you, chin wet, cheeks flushed. he looked at you like he’d just seen something holy. his eyes met yours.

your chest was still rising in quick, shallow breaths, your whole body humming with the echoes of release. muscles twitching, skin flushed, your legs limp where they’d once locked around his head. you felt wrecked—completely, thoroughly undone.

but when he leaned back in—his tongue sliding gently over your folds again, licking up the mess he’d made—you gasped, hips flinching. it was too much. the heat, the slick softness of his mouth against your overstimulated clit. your fingers twitched on the sheets, not from want but sheer sensitivity. and still, you didn’t tell him to stop. you whimpered instead, high and breathless, body twitching as he licked you clean.

you whimpered again when his tongue passed over your clit—just a brush this time, a flick more tease than touch.

you looked up at him through your lashes when he came back up to your level. he was gorgeous like this—his face flushed, his hair mussed where your hands had tangled in it, his mouth swollen.

“you were so good,” he said softly, almost in awe. “so good for me.”

your cheeks burned at the praise. your body ached. but underneath the exhaustion, something else was burning now.

because you wanted more.

you wanted him.

you bit your lip, your voice barely a whisper. “felix…”

his brow furrowed gently, and he dipped lower, brushing his nose against yours. “yeah?”

you swallowed. your legs shifted beneath him, and the motion dragged your thigh against something hard.

oh.

he was hard—so hard, so ready, the press of him against your hip hot and solid and impossible to ignore.

and you wanted it. desperately.

“i want you,” you breathed.

his eyes darkened instantly. his jaw clenched. “yeah?”

you nodded, slow and steady, heart pounding all over again. “i want you inside of me.”

he exhaled like he’d been holding it in for hours. his hips rocked against you once—barely controlled—and you felt the full length of him, thick and pulsing, pressed against your thigh through his boxers.

“you sure?” he asked, voice husky.

“i’m sure,” you whispered. “i want it. i want you.”

he leaned in and kissed you again—slower this time, more grounded, but still with that same edge of hunger curling just beneath the surface. his lips moved against yours like he already knew what came next. like he was already imagining it.

felix pulled back just slightly, just enough to see you fully, his eyes scanning your face like he was checking every breath, every signal, every heartbeat.

“you can do it.” he murmured,

but then you followed his gaze—down to where his hips hovered just above yours, the hard line of him straining visibly against the fabric of his sweatpants, the tip already darkening the cotton with pre-come.

your mouth parted. and slowly—your hands moved.

he didn't flinch when your fingers found the waistband of his sweats, didn’t stop you when you pushed them down inch by inch, the elastic dragging low over his hips, revealing skin, then more, then—

you swallowed hard.

his cock sprang free the second you tugged his boxers past his thighs. thick. hard. long and flushed and glistening at the tip. he was perfect—desperately hard and twitching in your palm before you’d even touched him properly.

you looked up at him once, silently asking.

he nodded, jaw locked, chest rising.

so you wrapped your hand around him.

he shuddered the moment your fingers closed around his shaft—his whole body jolting like he’d been electrocuted, breath catching sharp in his chest.

then—like he was pulling himself out of a trance—he shifted, reaching one hand blindly toward the floor, fingers groping for the edge of his jacket. he pulled it closer, found something in the zipper pocket—a small foil packet.

you stopped him.

your hand curled around his wrist, gentle.

“it’s okay,” you said softly.

his eyes locked on yours. “y/n—”

“i’m on the pill,” you murmured. “i trust you.”

his lips parted. for a second, he didn’t speak—just stared at you like you’d said something sacred. something that made his whole body go still.

and then he dropped the packet to the floor.

he hovered over you, breath hot and trembling against your lips, one arm braced beside your head while the other reached down, steadying himself. but he paused, just barely, the tip of his cock resting against your soaked entrance, heat pulsing between your bodies like a current too charged to touch.

his eyes locked on yours again—wild, tender, reverent.

“are you sure?” he asked, voice low and hoarse, like asking cost him.

you nodded.

slow. certain.

your hand rose to cup his jaw, thumb brushing his flushed cheekbone. “i’ve never been more sure.”

he inhaled sharply—and let it out in a soft, broken moan. not quiet. not restrained. just raw, honest sound spilling from somewhere deep inside him.

“okay,” he breathed. “okay. then you go for it, baby.”

his head dropped for a second, forehead pressing to yours, his whole body shaking with the force of trying to hold back. you felt him twitch against your entrance, the thick head of his cock nudging just slightly into your folds, dragging through your wetness.

you blinked up at him, dazed. “what?”

he pulled back just slightly, his hand guiding himself again, lining up with your pussy, the swollen head pressing flush against your entrance. and then he looked you dead in the eyes.

“you take me,” he said. “however slow you need. however deep you want. you do it.”

and he meant it. his voice didn’t shake this time. his gaze didn’t falter. he wanted you to be in control. even now—especially now.

so you reached down with one trembling hand and wrapped your fingers around his cock again, guiding him back down between your thighs. you could feel the heat of him, the size of him—heavy and thick and so fucking real.

your breath caught as you positioned him, the head of his cock pressing right against your entrance now.

he moaned again—guttural this time, a sound pulled from deep in his chest.

“god, you feel so warm already—”

you pushed your hips up, slow, and felt him begin to breach you.

just the tip.

the stretch burned.

sharp, but not unbearable. not when he was watching you like that—eyes wide, lips parted, chest heaving like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

you gasped, and he stilled.

“you good?” he whispered.

you nodded—bit your lip, adjusted, let yourself breathe.

then you did it again. this time he met you halfway

pushed up another inch. took more of him.

and he groaned—low and long, head dropping to your shoulder as his arms tensed beside you.

“oh my goodness, y/n—”

you were so wet, so tight, every inch of him dragging against nerves you hadn’t known could feel like this. the pressure was intense, dizzying, your body opening inch by inch to take him in.

and he let you do it.

let you set the pace.

let you guide him in, until you were gasping and whimpering and his cock was buried almost halfway, throbbing and hot, your walls pulsing around him like your body didn’t know how to handle it all.

“you’re doing so good,” he breathed, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your temple. “so fucking good—keep going, baby, if you can.”

you braced your hands against his shoulders, breath shallow, thighs trembling. the last stretch was the hardest—your body pulsing around the thick base of him, nerves lit up everywhere, tight and aching, every part of you drawn taut with the strain of holding him there.

but you wanted this. all of it.

you shifted your hips, exhaling slowly as you pushed upward—one more inch. then another. until he bottomed out.

he was buried to the hilt now, thick and hot and pulsing inside your cunt, your walls stretched around him so tight he could barely breathe. his hands trembled where they gripped your waist, holding himself still—barely—like one more twitch would break the world in half.

“y/n,” he choked out, voice guttural. “you’re so tight, baby, so tight—i can barely—” he bit down on the inside of his cheek, jaw clenched like a vice.

your fingers flexed against his back, and you nodded, panting through the ache, through the pressure. “it’s okay,” you whispered. “you can move. please—move.”

his eyes snapped open. he searched your face, breath still ragged, and nodded slowly.

then he pulled out—just an inch, then another—and pushed back in.

the drag of him inside you, even that small motion, lit your body up from the inside. the friction was perfect. unrelenting. he filled every inch, stretched you to your limit, and your pussy clung to him like your body didn’t want to let go.

felix whispered. “i can slow down.”

he pulled out again, just enough to make you feel empty, then slid back in deeper. you cried out, clinging to him now, hips tilting up to meet him, chasing it.

“faster, you can go faster,” you gasped.

he obeyed.

his pace quickened, still careful but less restrained now—his cock thrusting into you with a slick, wet rhythm, your soaked pussy gripping him like a vice with every motion. the room echoed with the sound of your bodies—flesh on flesh, breathless cries, the obscene, soaking drag of his cock through your tight cunt.

“fuck,” he growled. “this pussy is taking me so good, like it was made for me.”

your head tipped back, a fresh moan spilling from your lips. “it was—”

his hips stuttered.

something flickered across his face then—darker, hungrier.

“you don’t even know what you do to me,” he murmured. “you think i haven’t thought about this? all those nights jerking off with your name in my throat.”

you whimpered.

he leaned over you more fully, chest brushing your breasts, one hand sliding up to cradle your face while he kept thrusting into you—slow now, deeper, grinding into you with each roll of his hips.

“you’re letting me ruin you,” he whispered. “god, you’re so wet for it.”

you moaned—high, trembling, helpless. “i love you—”

his rhythm faltered, but only for a second.

“say it again,” he demanded, voice thick.

“i love you,” you sobbed, clinging to him as your body started to coil again, pressure building low and hot and desperate. “i love you, felix, please don’t stop—”

he didn’t.

he fucked you harder now—not rough—but deep, fast, each thrust grinding right into your tightest spot, your pussy clenching around him like you couldn’t bear to let go. he shifted his angle slightly, driving into you from just a little lower, and your whole body jerked.

your breath tore out of you. "felix—!"

that spot—deeper than before, more blunt and punishing than his tongue had been—lit you up like a nerve struck raw. it wasn’t the soft spread of orgasm he’d coaxed out with his mouth. this was different. sharper. hotter. it burned from the inside out, like he was hammering that sweet bundle of nerves over and over again, your orgasm swelling, uncoiling too fast.

and he saw it.

he felt it.

his hand dropped between you, fingers finding your clit with practiced ease, two slick digits rubbing tight little circles as he thrust deep, dragging your soaked pussy right against his knuckles every time.

“give it to me, y/n,” he growled, voice raw and low in your ear. “come on. i know that look—you’re right there. like when you break that last board—focus. let go. fucking give it to me.”

you couldn’t hold back.

it slammed into you—fast, sharp, blinding—your entire body locking, then releasing, the pleasure exploding out of you with a cry that tore your throat raw.

your orgasm ripped through your pelvis.

a hot gush of slick pulsed out of you, soaking his cock, his fingers, the sheets beneath you. you cried out, shaking violently, back arching off the bed, vision going white as your body convulsed through it.

felix choked on a groan, grinding his hips deep into your trembling pussy as he held you there, watching it happen, feeling you squirt on him.

“fuck, baby—oh my god—”

he didn’t stop moving, didn’t stop working your clit, didn’t stop fucking that spot, chasing every last drop of that orgasm.

your breath was ragged, your voice barely there, but the words came anyway—raw, open, needy.

“come inside me, felix,” you whispered, your nails dragging lightly down his back. “i want to feel it. i want all of you.”

he growled—actually growled—a sound ripped from deep in his chest, something dark and unfiltered and desperate.

“you want my cum, baby?” he panted, hand sliding down to grip your thigh, holding you wide open beneath him. “you want me to ruin you for everyone else?”

“yes,” you gasped. “yes, felix, please—do it, come inside me—”

that broke him.

he fucked into you hard—once, twice, three more brutal strokes—and then froze, every muscle in his body locking as he buried himself to the base.

he groaned loud into your neck and you felt it.

felt the heat flood inside you, pulse after pulse of release spilling into your still-clenching pussy, thick and warm and endless. he rocked through it, hips twitching, groaning your name like a prayer as he filled you completely, your slick and his cum mixing deep inside you, dripping between your thighs.

he stayed like that, chest heaving, cock twitching, holding you close as the last waves of it ran through him—your body wrecked beneath his, soaked and shaking and full.

you lay there, breath shallow and scattered, limbs trembling beneath the weight of everything—his body, his warmth, the aftershocks still flickering deep in your core. you felt him still buried inside you, twitching gently, his length softening but still locked within your body like he couldn’t bear to leave just yet.

you were dazed.

and when you blinked up at him—his hair sweat-damp and wild, his chest rising fast, his eyes fixed on you like you were everything—he smiled, slow and aching.

“my girl,” he whispered, voice rough. he pressed a kiss to your cheek, then your temple. your heart thudded.

and when he leaned back just enough to see your face, brushing a thumb down your jaw, his voice softened to something even more fragile. “i love you.”

the words cracked something wide open in you.

you reached up, threading your fingers into his hair, pulling him back down into a kiss—soft, slow, lips barely moving because you didn’t have the strength to make it anything more. but it said enough.

you pulled back, breath caught, eyes wide and glassy.

“i love you too, felix.” you touched his cheek. “stay over?”

his answer came without hesitation.

he nodded.

then pressed another kiss to your lips—brief, tender—before slowly, carefully pulling out. you winced slightly, and he soothed you immediately, whispering quiet things under his breath.

“sorry, baby, i got you, just relax.”

you felt him drip out of you, thick and warm against your thigh, and you shivered at the sensation, more from how intimate it felt than anything else.

felix padded to your bathroom and when he came back, he was gently kneeling beside the bed and wiping between your legs.

he kissed your knee, then slipped out quietly. you heard the bath running. when he returned, he lifted you gently from the bed, carrying you into the bathroom. later, clean and warm, he curled into bed beside you.

arms around your waist. breath on your neck.

the world faded.

only him. only you.

you were breathing hard—sweat dripping down your temple, your pulse pounding in your ears, muscles burning from effort. the match had dragged longer than expected. every counter was faster, every feint smarter. your opponent wasn’t backing down.

and neither were you.

a front kick met your side—hard but clean. you spun with it, dropping into a low stance to recover, your feet sliding against the mat. a beat passed. then another.

your opponent came at you again. you blocked, pivoted, struck out with a side kick, but he ducked low and swept your leg—not enough to knock you down, just enough to unbalance. you hissed through your teeth and shot forward, aiming a punch straight toward his ribs.

but then—

he shifted left.

and his arm hit your good shoulder.

your breath caught as you staggered back half a step.

and that’s when he moved in.

one clean motion. a grappling combo you’d seen before—but rarely felt like this.

your opponent took you down.

and suddenly, the world tilted. you were flat on your back, shoulders pinned, your breath knocked clean out of your chest.

you stayed still for half a second, blinking up at them, the lights glaring in your peripheral.

then you tapped out. quick, three times.

the pressure eased immediately.

he rolled off with practiced ease and leaned over, hand rubbing your back softly.

“good match,” he murmured.

you pushed up slowly, breath still shallow, shoulder aching just a bit where the blow had landed. but you couldn’t help the half-smile that pulled at your lips.

coach stepped forward from the sideline. “nice takedown, felix.”

you huffed a short laugh. “finally,” you muttered, shooting felix a sideways look.

he grinned sheepishly, cheeks pink. his hair was soaked, plastered to his forehead, and his uniform clung to his back with sweat. but his eyes were sparkling.

coach added, “that’s the only one you’ve taken so far.”

felix scratched the back of his neck. “yeah, well. i’m pacing myself.”

you chuckled and reached out, smacking his arm lightly. “i let you have that one.”

he caught your hand before it dropped, squeezed it once.

then let it go.

the coach stepped forward, arms crossed over his chest, gaze unreadable as it flicked between the two of you.

you both turned toward him, sweat still clinging to your necks, uniforms rumpled and streaked with dust from the mats. you and felix both reached up and took off your helmets.

the coach paused for a beat. then:

“i’ve made my decision.”

your heart jumped into your throat. felix straightened beside you, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

the coach looked at you. “y/n.”

there was a pause.

“sir…?”

coach nodded. “you’ve been consistent. adaptable. fast. you held your ground every time. you’ve proved yourself.”

“i was holding back in the others,” felix said quickly. “can we have one more match?”

the coach didn’t soften. “you gave your best in that last one. and so did she. decision’s final.”

felix didn’t argue. just stood there, chest rising, then falling, as something in him settled.

he turned to you.

you were still staring at him with a worried expression. but he smiled.

small. honest.

“i’m not gonna lie and say i’m not crushed,” he said, laughing under his breath. “because i am.”

your lips curled into a smile.

“but,” he added, eyes locked on yours, “i’m also really fucking proud of you.”

your throat was tight, but the smile pulled at your face anyway—soft, a little shaky. you turned to the coach and bowed.

“thank you, sir. really.”

coach gave a short nod, then glanced down at his clipboard. but not before you caught the faintest curve of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

you turned back to felix and threw your arms around his neck without thinking. his hands came around your waist instantly before he lifted you.

your feet left the mat, your arms tightening in surprise as a small yelp escaped your lips. “felix!”

he laughed, that full-throated, breathless sound you hadn’t heard since you were kids.

as felix set you down, you caught it.

the coach.

still watching.

his eyes flicked from you to felix, then back again.

you furrowed your brows. “what?”

“nothing,” coach said, too quickly, a smile tugging at his lips. “just… you two make a good team.”

your eyes narrowed. “no, what was that look?”

“look?” he repeated, feigning innocence like a man who definitely was not innocent.

you glanced at felix. he was already biting the inside of his cheek, trying not to laugh, failing miserably. his ears were turning pink.

you turned back to the coach. “sir—”

“good work today,” he said, backing off. “see you both tomorrow.”

and he disappeared into his office, closing the door behind him.

you stared after him, then slowly turned to felix.

you groaned into your hands. “god.”

felix laughed, gently peeling your hands away from your face as his eyes flicked past you for half a second. a little group of junior belts was trailing through the far hallway, chattering and bouncing off the walls like they’d just mainlined sugar.

he looked back at you, mischief blooming across his face. his hand still held yours.

and then—without warning—he kissed you.

right there in the middle of the mats, with the scent of floor cleaner and sweat still in the air and your chest protector half-hanging off your side.

your eyes widened.

you made an undignified squeak into his mouth and instantly melted against him.

then you grabbed his hand.

felix barely had time to register it before you were tugging him down the hall, past the main mat, into one of the empty practice rooms. the second the door shut behind you—

click.

he had you against the wall.

your belt hit the floor.

and there was nothing gentle about the way you kissed each other this time.

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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 28 days ago

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Hii!!

Can you maybe make something with arranged husband chan please??🫰

unexpected || bcn

(this is my first time writing an arranged marriage trope i hope you like it! :3)

I had always thought that love would be something I stumbled into—something soft and sudden, not something scheduled over dinner.

We were sitting at the long mahogany table in the dining room, the one my mother only used for special occasions. The chandelier above us flickered with dim light, casting golden glows over the plates of grilled salmon and wild rice. My father was in a particularly good mood, his eyes gleaming like he had a surprise gift to give.

And he did.

“We’ve been thinking,” my mother said suddenly, resting her fork on her plate with careful poise. “About your future.”

I felt a knot twist in my stomach. “My future?”

My father leaned forward, his tone casual but firm. “With Chan.”

I blinked. “What about Chan?”

“You two would be good together,” he said, like he was offering me a business opportunity rather than a life partner. “He’s successful, respectful, and he cares about this family. It would benefit everyone.”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or choke. “You mean… marriage?”

“Arranged, yes,” my mother answered, folding her hands in her lap like it was the most normal thing in the world. “It would stabilize our family name in the industry. You’d never want for anything, sweetheart.”

I could hardly process what they were saying. My heart was pounding.

I knew Chan. Everyone in the industry did. He was a walking billboard for perfection—flawless skin, charming smile, the body of someone sculpted by gods. My father had scouted him years ago in Australia, said he saw potential in the boy with the soft eyes and quiet strength. Chan had moved here alone at eighteen. Since then, he’d become one of the agency’s biggest names. He was polite, humble, and always made a point to greet me when he visited. But marriage?

My head spun.

The next day, Chan came over for dinner. I expected awkwardness—some tension in the air—but he was calm, maybe a little too calm. His eyes met mine only once, and they held something I couldn’t name. I wondered if he was as thrown off as I was, or if he had known all along.

After dinner, we found ourselves alone in the kitchen, pretending to clean up dishes.

“I didn’t know they’d bring it up so soon,” he said softly, glancing at me.

I looked at him. “So you knew?”

He nodded. “Your dad mentioned it a few weeks ago. I thought he was joking.”

“And now?”

Chan leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Now I’m not so sure.”

“Do you want this?” I asked before I could stop myself. My voice came out too honest, too raw.

He hesitated. “I want what’s best for both our families. And I trust your dad. But I’m not going to pretend this isn’t weird for you. Or for me.”

Something about the way he said it—gently, without pressure—made my shoulders drop. For a moment, he didn’t look like a top model or my father’s golden ticket. He just looked like a guy, caught in something bigger than himself, just like me.

In the weeks that followed, we started seeing more of each other. Not because we had to, but because we needed to figure out who we were—together.

Chan took me to a quiet café one morning, far away from the flashing cameras and fake smiles. He told me about his family back home, about how modeling saved him, about the nights he still felt like a scared kid in a foreign country. I told him about how I’d always felt like a shadow of my father’s legacy, a daughter expected to carry weight I never asked for.

And somewhere in between those conversations, the tension faded. We started laughing more. Sitting closer. We weren’t in love, not yet, but something was growing. Something real.

One night, after a long walk through the city, he looked at me as we reached my doorstep.

“I don’t want this to feel forced,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “If we’re going to do this… I want it to be because we chose it.”

I looked up at him, at the boy from Australia who became my father’s biggest star. And in that moment, I realized he wasn’t just an arrangement. He was a chance. A maybe. A slow burn I hadn’t expected.

“I want to choose it too,” I whispered.

And this time, when he leaned in—soft, careful, asking for nothing—I didn’t pull away.

The wedding had been beautiful, in that curated kind of way. Lavish, tasteful, a press-worthy event filled with glittering lights and people who only spoke in compliments. I smiled through every photo, every speech, every soft nudge from my mother telling me to look happier.

But under all of it, Chan and I were still two people who didn’t quite know how to belong to each other.

The first few months were a strange rhythm of politeness and space. We lived in the same house—separate rooms at first, quiet meals together, short conversations about his schedule or my family or what color we should repaint the guest bathroom. He was always kind, always respectful, but it felt like we were dancing around something we weren’t ready to admit.

Sometimes I’d catch him looking at me when he thought I wasn’t paying attention. His gaze always held something soft—like he was trying to figure me out, memorize me even. Other nights, I’d lie awake and wonder what would happen if I slipped into his room, if I told him that even though we were strangers in some ways, I wanted more than silence between us.

One night, it happened.

I had a nightmare—I don’t even remember what it was about. I only remember waking up breathless, the sheets tangled around me, and this heavy sense of loneliness. On instinct, I got up and walked to his room. I knocked gently.

He opened the door wearing a worn white t-shirt and sleep-heavy eyes. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

“I just…” I paused, embarrassed. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Without a word, he stepped aside. I climbed into his bed like it was the most normal thing in the world, like it hadn’t taken me months to gather the courage.

We didn’t speak. He just slid in beside me and turned off the lamp. A few minutes later, I felt his fingers brush mine beneath the covers. I didn’t move away. That night, I slept better than I had in years.

After that, everything started shifting.

We started sharing the same room. The mornings became warmer—Chan would make coffee before his shoots and leave a cup on my nightstand with a sticky note that said something silly like don’t be grumpy today. He’d come home late and knock softly on the door, just to make sure I was still awake. I started watching his runway videos when he wasn’t around. I found myself proud, not because he was mine, but because I was starting to want him to be.

One rainy afternoon, I walked into the studio my dad owned. Chan was doing a shoot for a luxury brand, dressed in all black with that brooding look he wore so well. When our eyes met, he broke character for a split second—his expression softened like he forgot there were cameras on him.

Later, I found him backstage changing. “You looked good out there,” I said, almost shy.

He smiled. “So did you… sitting there with your arms crossed like you owned the place.”

I laughed, and he reached for my hand. “Come here.”

He pulled me gently into his arms, resting his forehead against mine. “It’s funny,” he whispered. “This thing we were forced into… I think I would’ve fallen for you anyway.”

I didn’t say anything at first. I just closed my eyes, let myself feel the truth in his touch. Because I felt it too—whatever we had started out of duty was now rooted in something deeper. Something tender. Something real.

That night, when we got home, he kissed me in the hallway. No cameras, no parents, no perfect lighting. Just us. And it wasn’t electric or cinematic—it was soft. Familiar. Like breathing.

And for the first time since this all began, I realized:

I didn’t just marry Chan.

I chose him.

And somewhere along the way, he chose me too.

It had been three years since our wedding.

Three years since I stood in a designer dress under ivory silk drapes, saying vows I hadn’t fully understood at the time. I’d said them because I had to. Because my parents believed in the business, in family legacy, in survival through strategy. And maybe, back then, I’d believed in none of it.

But now, I believed in us.

Chan and I had built a quiet, beautiful life together—one that belonged to neither my mother’s dreams nor my father’s vision. It was ours, shaped in small, ordinary ways. Mornings started with sleepy kisses and shared coffee. Evenings ended tangled on the couch, half-watching movies while he rested his head on my lap and I ran my fingers through his hair.

We still worked in the world we were raised in—him modeling, me managing part of the agency now—but we’d created distance from the noise. We stopped caring about being seen, and started focusing on being known. Truly known.

I stood on the balcony that evening, watching the city lights blink in and out like stars that had lost their way. The air was warm, humming with summer. Behind me, I heard the sliding glass door open. Familiar footsteps padded toward me, and then arms wrapped around my waist from behind.

“You’re always out here when the sky turns gold,” Chan murmured into my shoulder.

I leaned back against him, smiling. “Because it’s the only time the world feels quiet.”

He kissed the side of my neck, slowly. “You make everything feel quiet.”

We stood like that for a while—no rush, no expectation. Just being. He rested his chin on my shoulder, our fingers intertwined on the railing.

“Do you remember the first night I let you sleep in my bed?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded. “You didn’t say anything. You just let me stay.”

He chuckled softly. “I was scared. I didn’t want to ruin it. I didn’t even know what it was yet.”

“I think I started falling for you that night,” I said quietly. “When you didn’t ask me why.”

Chan turned me gently to face him. His eyes were still the same—warm, steady, full of things he’d never need to say out loud. “You were always it for me, even before I knew what that meant.”

I felt tears sting the corners of my eyes. Not because I was sad—but because life had taken such a strange, twisting path to lead us here. We hadn’t found love. We had grown it—planted in uncertain soil, watered by patience, blooming in quiet, surprising ways.

If someone had told the girl from three years ago that she would be hopelessly in love with the man her parents chose for her, she would’ve laughed. But standing there in his arms, nothing felt more true.

Marriage didn’t save us.

We saved each other—

with time, with tenderness, with choice.

Always choice.

“Let’s stay out here a little longer,” I whispered, burying my face in his chest.

Chan held me closer. “For as long as you want.”

And under the golden sky, wrapped in the arms of a man I once called a stranger, I realized—I had everything I never thought I’d need.

And more.

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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 29 days ago

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For You, Always - Psychiatrist!Reader x Psycho!Han & Psycho!Minho

Genre: Dark Romance, Psychological Thriller, Obsession, Yandere

Warnings: Possessive behavior, delusion, kidnapping, manipulation, obsession, psychological themes. Purely fictional.

Ps: I was actually planning on making this into a few parts but decided to againts it because I'm too lazy. So, I hope you enjoy they story!!!

Your first steps into the facility echoed through sterile white halls. The scent of antiseptic clung to the air, and fluorescent lights flickered slightly above your head. You clutched your clipboard tighter, drawing in a slow breath. You had read their files clinical summaries, red-flagged warnings, and heavily underlined phrases like "DO NOT ATTEMPT TO FORM PERSONAL CONNECTION" and "SEVERE ATTACHMENT HISTORY."

You expected the job to be challenging. But not like this.

"You're the new one?" A voice to your right startled you. A nurse kind, older, smiled with a weary knowing in her eyes. "Good luck with 087 and 103. They always get... interested."

Interested?

You shook off the discomfort, brushing it away like lint off your coat. Your first session of the day was with Patient 103—Han Jisung. You reviewed his history: impulsivity, delusional attachment, and childlike dependency tendencies.

You opened the door to the observation room. And froze.

He was already staring at you.

Not blinking.

His head tilted slightly, lips curled up into a soft, curious smile.

"You're new," he said softly. "I dreamed about you."

Your pen paused.

"Excuse me?"

Han leaned forward, elbows on the table. His eyes were round, shimmering, too gentle to match the file you had just read.

"Last night. A dream," he continued. "You were wearing this exact color. Your eyes looked tired then, too. But you smiled at me."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"That’s... interesting, Jisung. But let’s keep today focused on how you’re feeling."

He smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I’m feeling like I finally met you."

---

Later that afternoon, you were assigned a double session. Patient 087—Lee Minho, would join Han in a monitored group session.

You weren’t told why they were paired. But the moment Minho walked in, calm and poised with his hands in his pockets, you understood. There was something unspoken between them. A connection is not written in your files.

He sat without a word, his gaze raking over you with silent calculation. His voice was low, cold, but smooth.

"You’re the new psychiatrist."

It wasn’t a question.

"Yes," you answered, wary.

He nodded. "Then you’ll be ours soon."

Han giggled beside him. "She already is."

You gripped your clipboard tighter.

This wasn’t interesting.

It was fixation.

And it was just beginning.

---

It started small.

The drawings, at first, were brushed off as harmless expressions. A part of their therapy, you told yourself.

But they were too detailed.

Too personal.

Your face is rendered in graphite. Your lips, your smile, the curve of your neck. Page after page. Taped behind the door of Han’s room. Slipped under your office door late at night. Minho’s sketches, by contrast, were clinical, schematics of your routine, your schedule, and your apartment building.

He had never asked where you lived.

"You take the 7:45 train every day," Minho said casually during one of the quieter sessions. "You stop by the coffee place next to the florist, but you never order the same thing. You smell like caramel most mornings. I like caramel."

You said nothing. But your silence betrayed you.

He smiled.

Han wasn’t quiet either. He began humming your name like it was a song, repeating it under his breath in the halls. He smiled more when you passed. Asked the guards when your next shift was. Once, you found him waiting by the therapy room, unassigned, unaccompanied.

"I missed you," he said simply. "I didn’t like not seeing you yesterday."

"Han, that’s not appropriate. We have rules."

His eyes watered. But his voice? Calm.

"Rules don’t apply to people who love each other."

Your chest tightened.

You brought it up in a staff meeting. Suggested reassignment.

But your supervisor only laughed.

"They’re attached. That’s progress. Just keep distance. Don’t make it personal."

You tried.

But it was too late.

Because they had learned you.

And more dangerously—

They had decided you were theirs.

---

Late one evening, while you packed up your things, the guard at the door leaned in.

"You should be careful," he said quietly. "They talk about you at night. Together. Like they’re planning something."

You swallowed.

"What kind of something?"

"They say they want to 'take you home.'"

Your blood ran cold.

That night, you triple-locked your door.

But from your window, across the street…

Two silhouettes stood side by side, just barely visible beneath the streetlamp.

One waved.

The other just stared.

---

It started with the flickering lights.

You had just returned to your office after an emergency staff meeting. Two patients had gotten into a physical altercation in the east wing. You weren’t assigned to the case, but the chaos had pulled most of the staff’s attention.

The power went out at 8:42 p.m.

At 8:44, the emergency lights kicked in.

And at 8:45, the front doors of the secure ward were found open.

"Who’s missing?" You asked the security team, heart in your throat.

They didn’t answer right away. Then, one of the guards looked at you with wide eyes.

"103 and 087."

Han. Minho.

Gone.

The hospital went into lockdown. Your phone buzzed with alerts. Staff were herded into safe rooms. But your office door wouldn’t close properly.

You backed into the corner, trying to remember the emergency protocol. You reached for your desk drawer, fumbling for your phone.

And then… you smelled something sweet.

A cloth pressed over your face from behind. A hand cradled the back of your head. Another wrapped tightly around your waist.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," Han whispered against your ear. His voice trembled with giddy relief. "I got you. I got you now, baby."

You tried to scream. Tried to thrash. But the chemical soaked cloth was already taking effect.

Your limbs went heavy.

Minho’s voice was the last thing you heard.

"No one’s taking you away from us now."

---

You woke up in a soft light.

Your hands were bound, but not roughly. Silk ties, knotted gently. Your clothes had been changed. Not stripped, not violated, but replaced with something soft and clean.

You were in a room too luxurious for a hospital, too private to be public. There was no window. There is no visible door handle. Just a warm lamp, a neatly made bed, and a tray of untouched food.

"She’s awake," Minho’s voice echoed as the door clicked open.

He stepped in first, dressed simply. Black shirt, soft slacks. Calm. Collected.

Then came Han, practically bouncing in. He carried a bouquet of wildflowers and dropped to his knees at your bedside.

"You’re here," he whispered, teary-eyed. "You’re finally here. We can be together now."

Minho sat on the edge of the bed, brushing your hair from your face.

"You looked tired at the hospital," he said. "Overworked. Unappreciated. But we noticed. We always notice."

"W-why... why did you..."

Han leaned forward, smiling with that twisted sweetness that once seemed harmless.

"Because love isn’t supposed to be from a distance. And they were keeping you from us."

Minho’s hand cradled your cheek.

"This way, you’ll never have to leave. Ever again.

The door closed softly behind them.

And for the first time, you realized the truth:

They didn’t think they’d done anything wrong.

To them, this wasn’t a crime.

It was love.

---

The days blurred together in that windowless room.

Or was it weeks?

You weren’t sure anymore. There were no clocks. No daylight. No contact with the outside world. Only the low hum of lights, the faint scent of flowers Han insisted on replacing daily, and the constant presence of the two men who had taken everything from you, your freedom, your routine, your sense of control.

And yet… not your mind.

Not yet.

---

Minho was precise. He managed your environment with the cold order of a man who believed in his own righteousness. Your meals were always warm, balanced, and perfectly timed. The room stayed spotless. Your clothing was clean, soft, and never provocative. He never violated your physical boundaries. Not directly.

Han, on the other hand, was emotional chaos. He clung to you. Cried when you cried. Kissed your fingertips when you trembled. Brought you stories and songs and drawings that would’ve been sweet if they weren’t the product of delusion.

"You’re safest here," Minho said one evening, kneeling beside your chair with a bowl of fruit. "The world outside never deserved you."

"I want to go back," you whispered. "This isn’t love. It’s a cage."

Han whimpered behind you, burying his face against your spine. "But we’re your home now… please don’t say things that hurt."

You stood shakily. The chair screeched.

"You don’t get to decide that! You kidnapped me! You drugged me—"

Minho stood, too. Calm, towering.

"We saved you. From being surrounded by people who never saw you. They only ever took from you. But us? We give."

Han stepped forward with a blanket in his arms. "You’re just scared. You’ll feel it soon. You’ll feel how good it is to be loved like this."

---

That night, they let you sleep alone.

For the first time.

You curled up beneath the soft sheets and cried silently, clutching the edge of the bed as if it could anchor your sanity. You whispered names, colleagues, family, the name of the guard who had warned you.

But no one came.

Outside the locked door, you heard Minho’s low voice:

"She’s breaking."

Then Han’s soft reply:

"She’ll come back to us. She always does in my dreams."

---

You didn’t sleep that night.

But they did.

They dreamed of a version of you who loved them back.

And tomorrow, they would try again to make that version real.

---

You waited until the lights dimmed for "night." Until Han’s humming faded into silence. Until Minho’s footsteps no longer echoed from the hall beyond the reinforced door.

You had counted every bolt, every wire, every habit. Every pattern.

And tonight, you were going to use it.

The pin hidden inside the hem of your blanket shook in your fingers. It had taken days to work it loose. Weeks to figure out how to use it. Your hands were trembling as you inserted it into the door’s interior lock.

One click. Another.

Freedom was a sound.

The door opened.

You slipped into the hallway, silent, barefoot. You had memorized the turns. The cameras were fake. You had seen the cut wires near the ceiling. They never expected you to try.

You made it past the kitchen, past the sitting room, to the front.

You reached for the final lock on the outer door.

And stopped.

"You're not leaving," Minho said softly behind you.

Your heart stopped. Your breath caught.

He was calm. Deadly calm.

Han stood in the hallway behind him, sleep still clinging to his eyes. His lip trembled.

"You were gonna leave us?" he whispered, voice breaking.

Minho took one step closer. "After everything? After all the love we gave you?"

You lifted the pin like a weapon.

"Don’t come closer. I swear I’ll—"

Minho’s eyes darkened. "You’ll what? Call the police? Report your only protection?"

Han sobbed. Loud, broken. He dropped to his knees, grabbing your wrist, clutching it to his cheek.

"Please don’t hate us," he whispered. "We don’t know how to love you right. But we only love you. You’re all we have."

You stared down at him, this shattered boy. Then, at Minho, who stood like a ghost between devotion and delusion.

"You never gave me a choice," you whispered.

Minho didn’t blink. "Because love isn’t a choice. It’s a need. And we needed you. From the start."

You dropped the pin.

It clattered to the floor.

Han reached up to touch your face, smiling through tears.

Minho stepped forward, wrapping an arm around your shoulders like it was always meant to be there.

"There we go," he whispered. "Ours. Just like always."

And in that moment, whether from fear, from exhaustion, or from something even darker inside, you didn’t resist.

You let them take you back.

Back to your room.

Back to their version of love.

Back to the place where forever had already begun.

For you, always.

Credit banner: @cafekitsune

Taglist: @m-325 @bbokarismeow @maddy24207 @kpop-trash-03 @brbwritingfanfic @staytinyluv

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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 1 month ago

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Guys, I'm sick and twisted. I've been writing 2 stories about obsession, and I don't know if I should have published it or not. The fact that it's the same member but with a different partner. DAMN ME

#what am I doing here #am i dying or what #Why am I obsessed with obsession #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz #skz x reader #skz imagines #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids imagines #skz scenarios

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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 1 month ago

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ALL HAIL FOR THE MAMA BEAR 🐻

We're Here

BangChan x fem! reader. 9th member.

Taglist. Masterlist. Progress Update. MamaBear Collection.

Summary: Sometimes you're the one who needs to be comforted.

You always did everything you could to keep the boys happy. Their happiness was important to you. Whenever one of them was upset or their mood was down, you always did your best to comfort them, to dry their tears, put a smile on their face and make sure they felt safe. You did this both privately and publicly. It just added to your ‘Mama Bear’ persona. Though, could anyone call it a persona when it was just you being you?

But of course, like every other person in this world, you had your bad days too. Days when getting out of bed felt harder than climbing a mountain. When smiling felt so out of reach. You had days when you were surrounded by people but felt lonely the entire time. There were days when you’d just burst into tears. Sometimes you didn’t even know why you were crying; it was happening, and it was needed. There were days when you were dance moves wouldn’t stick, when your verses felt like a jumbled mess, and cooking seemed like an impossibility. There were times when your anger took over everything or when your silence became a worry.

You weighted the world on your shoulders. You were always trying to be better, to do better. To be as close to perfect as you could be. You had a loving boyfriend, and together you looked after seven men who saw you as a friend and a pseudo-mum. So when they saw you break, when they saw you crying and struggling to put the pieces back together, they were there to help you.

—------

Chan knew instantly something was wrong when you walked into the studio. You didn’t greet him with the same smile. Sure, you kissed him and said hi to him, Changbin and Han, but it was off. You called the boys by their names. There were no sweet pet names like ‘sweetheart’ or ‘hun’, or ‘baby’. Binnie and Han took notice of this as well. The three watched you walk into the booth and started preparing your warm-up.

Chan turned to look at Binnie, who was sitting beside him. Together, they both looked at Han, who was sitting on the couch, a puzzled look on his face.

“She looks tired. Really tired.” Binnie spoke to the two males.

Chan nodded in agreement. You both got home late last night. He had been working on some tracks, and you had been cleaning up the choreography. However, what wasn’t usual was him waking up to an empty bed. He found you that morning, having made breakfast, enough to feed an army. Sure, you always woke up to make breakfast for everyone, but not this early. Never this early. You also didn’t tend to bake this early unless it was for a birthday.

“She is. I’m starting to think she didn’t sleep last night. She said she did, but I don’t know. She made enough breakfast to feed us all for the rest of the day. Plus, she baked. She doesn’t bake that late or early unless it’s for something important or she’s stressed. She was surrounded by cupcakes and cookies, and brownies this morning. She never makes brownies without Felix.” Chan turned to look at the window to the booth. All nine of you had come to work that day, each with a bento box filled with leftovers from breakfast.

You blinked and let out a small sigh. The palms of your hands came to run your eyes. You slept last night. Just not for long. You got an hour, maybe two in. You had gotten up to use the bathroom. But you just couldn’t fall asleep after that. So you spent the night cooking and baking for your boys. Sure, maybe you had gone overboard. But your boys had been well fed. Plus, Felix and Han had fun giving out the sweet treats to the staff members. Of course, each of the boys and you had your own supply of sweet treats, so they wanted to give out the extras.

“Chan. Are you ready to start?” You asked curiously as you looked at him, Binnie and Ji through the window. You waved at them, trying to put a peppy smile on your face. It didn’t work.

Chan pressed the red button. “We’re ready, baby. Are you sure you want to do this today?” He asked, giving you the option to back out.

You nodded your head. “Yeah.”

Chan licked his bottom lip but agreed. He knew he couldn’t force you to stop. He needed to wait for you to be ready to finally let go of all the control.

“What do you want to start with?” He asked you curiously, wanting to do this at your pace and with your input.

“Chorus, please.” You rubbed your eyes as you tried to focus on the words in front of you.

Chan nodded and played the music. You sang. But you messed up on the first go. You've got some words jumbled. It was okay, mistakes happen.

However, you were starting to get upset with yourself once you had been in the booth for half an hour. Your voice had cracked, you jumbled your words up, and you had missed a cue. You just weren’t feeling it, and you couldn’t focus.

You tipped your head back and closed your eyes as you tried to wrench the tears away. But as your body shook, it gave it away that you had started crying. Chan stood up and walked into the booth. He took the headphones off your head and wrapped you up in his arms.

Your head was cradled to his chest, hands clutching onto his shirt that was becoming wet with your tears. His right hand gently stroked your hair. His left hand came to rub your back in soft circles. He looked up for a moment and blinked back his own tears. Seeing you like this always made him feel like his heart had been ripped right out of his chest.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Let it out.” And you did. You sobbed as you held onto him.

After a few minutes, you slowly pulled away and looked up at him. “I’m sorry.” Your voice broke as you spoke.

Chan shook his head. “Don’t apologise. All I ask is for you to take a nap, okay? We can do your part tomorrow.” His hands cupped your cheeks. His thumbs wiped your tears away. He then lifted you bridal style into his arms. You clung onto him.

Chan walked to the door, ready to open it, only to see Changbin opening it for him. He nodded at him in thanks. He walked over to the couch. Han patted his lap as he looked at Chan. Chan then lay you down, resting your head in Han’s lap. The younger male immediately began stroking your hair. Just like you always do for him when he falls asleep on you. “Get some sleep, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you.” You mumbled out before falling asleep.

The rest of the day, the boys took it in turns to be a pillow for you. But none woke you up. You were finally asleep, and they couldn’t be more grateful.

—------

Minho noticed you were having a bad day during dance practice. You were struggling to keep up with the dance. However, he chose not to draw attention to this. Instead, he had the group practice one more time before deciding to call for a break. Of course, the rest of the members had noticed too. But no one had said anything after the fourth time.

Everyone quickly got their water bottles and sat down. Some of the couches, some of the floor. You let out a small huff of air as you turned to grab your water bottle. As you opened it, Minho came up to you with his phone in his hand.

He turned the phone to face you, showing you an adorable picture of Soonie, Doongie and Dori. All three were cuddled up together, sleeping.

“Aw, they are so cute.” You were always excited to look at pictures of Minho’s three gorgeous cats. You also enjoyed seeing pictures of Chan, Hyunjin and Han’s dogs. They always seemed to make you smile.

“I knew you’d appreciate their cuteness.” Minho nodded in appreciation and satisfaction.

“I always do.” You had a smile on your face. Minho saw that as a win. He knew how to make you smile, even if it was just for a moment.

“Yah!” Changbin’s voice came, drawing your attention to the male. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“We’re ordering lunch. What do you want?” Changbin passed you Chan’s phone. “Dad’s paying, so go nuts.”

“Why does it always go nuts when I’m paying, but you always say ‘thank you, Mama. You didn’t have to.’ when she’s paying?” Chan asked, throwing his hands up.

“Because we love our mother,” Hyunjin said, pulling a face like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He walked over and wrapped his arms around you. His chin was on your shoulder as he looked at the phone in your hands. “Oh, you should get that. It looks yummy.”

Minho looked at the phone and grinned. “And it’s expensive.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to spend too much of Chris’ money.”

“Sweetheart, you can get yourself whatever you want. Food, drinks, and desserts. Whatever your pretty heart desires.” Chan told you with a warm smile as he looked at you from his spot on the couch.

Hyunjin looked between the two of you for a moment. He then turned to look at Minho. “Our mother has a sugar Daddy.”

Minho sucked in a breath. “We can use this to our advantage. All she has to do is bat her eyelashes or call him Chris or Chan in that sweet voice, and he’ll give her everything she wants. Which means, we can have whatever we want.” He clapped his hands together once.

He could see that you had long forgotten about the dance practice. So he continued to play into all this. He and Hyunjin stood in front of you, quickly joined by Seungmin and I.N. The four are happily trying to figure out everything they wanted and the best way to get you to convince Chan that you wanted all this stuff.

Chan let out a groan from his spot on the coach as he watched the four plotting menaces. “Stop trying to use my wife for your schemes!”

“She was our mother first.” Minho challenged.

“She really wasn’t. I met her first.” Chan told him, a proud smile on his face.

“Please, she prefers her children over you.” Hyunjin let out a scoff and waved his hand in dismissal at Chan.

“We don’t need to use her for anything. All we need is for Felix and I.N. to say please to her, and she’ll melt. She can’t say no to her babies.” Minho added as he placed a hand on I.N.’s shoulder.

You looked back and forth between them all and let out a laugh. At that Moment, Minho knew his job was done. But that didn’t stop him from continuing to play the role of the overprotective son who wanted to give his mother the world.

—------

Changbin had led you out of a room after you had shouted at some staff members. It seemed like the whole day you had been snappy and angry. So, he reacted and got you out of a situation that was causing even more stress.

Binnie helped you outside. The air outside felt nice. Changbin sat down on a bench and looked at you, waiting for you to figure out your next move.

“I lost it.” You said as you paced in front of him.

Binnie nodded his head. “Yeah. You did.” He said.

“I should’t have. It was rude.” You added.

“It was, but you have had everyone pulling at you all day. The stylist made I.N. uncomfortable. There was an issue with Han’s shoe. Scheduling had been pushed back more times than I can count. Hyunjin tripped over a roge wire. Seungmin forgot the dance. You had to do the same take for thirty minutes. Everything that could have gone wrong has gone wrong.” Changbin explained to you. Showing he understood why you had lost your cool.

The whole day had gone wrong. You had woken up later than usual. You and Chan had accidentally left your coffee at home. When you had all ordered lunch, some of the food was misplaced. Felix had gotten a migraine during filming. Minho had tripped and bruised his knee. Changbin had an issue when his makeup was being done. The Music Video you were all shooting was draining. Today had gone wrong for everyone.

You let out a huff of air and crossed your arms over your chest. “Today had been utter shit.”

Changbin nodded in agreement and patted the spot beside in. You looked at the male for a moment before sitting next to him.

“How about this? This weekend, we all have time off. So, how about I take you to a rage room? Or we can all go. Either way, you can let all of that pent-up rage and anger out in a safe way. Plus, this way, you won’t have any lingering feelings of guilt.” It was a good idea. A really good idea.

You looked at Changbin and smiled lightly at him. “I’d love that. Thank you, Binnie.”

The male opened his arms, ready for a hug. And you did. You hugged him tightly as he hugged you back, matching your tightness.

—------

Hyunjin spotted you on the couch in your dorm. It was that time of the month, and all day you had been in pain. Hyunjin has become your official period partner. It wasn’t that the others didn’t want to; Felix often joined, as did Chan. But Hyunjin always seemed to make it all seem easier in a way. Whilst Felix smothered you in cuddles, massages and brownies. Chan would worry over you for the first day before relaxing; he always had a bath ready or had the painkillers you wanted.

Hyunjin was always ready with a hot water bottle or a heating pad for you. Sometimes both, so you could have one on your stomach and one on your back. He was always there to distract you with dramatic stories or gossip he had heard. Or the two of you would snuggle up and watch whatever piqued your interest.

Hyunjin poked your shoulder. “I got the snacks. Felix will be here soon with that blanket you love so much. I told him to borrow a different one next time.” He said as he rounded the couch and sat down beside you. He placed the bag of your favourite snacks, foods and drinks down.

“Thank you, Jinnie. I really appreciate all of this.” You smiled thankfully at him.

The male shrugged. “What kind of son would I be if I didn’t help you? Now I’ll go make the ramen and your hot water bottle…oh, and maybe hot chocolate?” He let out a small squeal, getting suddenly excited at the idea. “We have whipped cream and marshmallows. Oh, and I’ll get some ice cream. Put something good on.”

You let out a laugh as Hyunjin practically bounced to the kitchen. You turned on the TV and went on YouTube. You immediately looked through some of Nigel Baker’s videos before you decided which one you wanted to watch. You enjoyed this guy. He was hilarious, and he always had nice things to say about your boys.

Hyunjin came back a while later, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. Every step was slow. He didn’t want to risk dropping anything. He let out a sigh of relief as he set everything down on the table.

He sat down beside you and gave you your hot chocolate. He turned to look at the TV. “Ah, yes! Binge-watching Nigel. Let's see how many of his videos we can get through. Good call, my muse.”

You let out a giggle at the nickname as you set the hot chocolate down on the table to your side before grabbing the hot water bottle. You placed it on your stomach.

“I thought we could start with him watching ‘Giant’. It's a good one. Plus I love that song.”

Hyunjin nodded in approval and pressed play. You both settled in, eating your ramen.

Felix walked through the door with your blanket and a box full of brownies.

“Oh my god, the visuals of this man. Shit needs to be studied in a lab.”

You let out a cackle. “He loves you, Jinnie.”

Hyunjin puffed out his chest. “Obviously. Everyone loves me.”

Felix looked between the two of you. “I bought brownies for you. I know you always want extra when you're on.” He put the blanket on your lap before setting the box of brownies on the table.

“Thank you, baby.” You smiled up at him. “Would you like to join us?” You asked him.

Felix nodded and sat on your other side of you, so you were between the two boys.

You cuddled into Hyunjin's side as Felix cuddled into you.

You continued to watch Nigel's videos. You all had a good laugh at the SKZ code stuff and the compilations. You all enjoyed watching him lose his mind over the music videos.

You were currently watching him react to the music videos for your song ‘Mama Bear’. It was a song that 3Racha wrote for you as a birthday present. You, Felix, Seungmin and I.N. sang the song. Leeknow and Hyunjin helped with the choreography. It was a song you were very happy and proud of. The guys had all been in the video, of course. The whole vibe of the video was just showcasing the group as one big happy family.

“Honestly, look at this beautiful woman. She's holding her own. Her vocals are shining, and look at her moves. This whole MV is her. She has eight men worshipping her. You can see how much they love her. Mother of seven, taking care of her children in her own MV. Look at them all. They look like an actual, real family. It's crazy but so wholesome, man. Chan, if you're watching this- you're not. But if you are. You need to wife Mama Bear up.” You watched Nigel pick up his water and drink some of it. “Mama Bear, if you’re watching. Stay, love you, and obviously so do your boys. You work so hard. Thank you.” You were tearing up a little. You were here for the jokes, but now here you were, feeling so incredibly appreciated as you were snuggled between two of your favourite people. “Aphrodite, who?”

—------

One minute you were walking, and the next you were on the floor. It hurt a lot, your ankle. You supposed maybe you had stepped wrong and ended up rolling your ankle. You and Han had just gotten home after doing a big shop together. Han was by your side in an instant.

“What happened? Are you okay? How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked you hurriedly as he held up three fingers.

You looked at the male. “I’m fine, just hurt my ankle.”

Han nodded. “Alright, umm umm.. Let me think.” He tapped his forehead for a second before he picked you up.

You let out a small yelp of surprise as you held onto the male. Han walked to your dorm and kicked the door.

The door opened, and I.N. stood there with a confused face. “What are you doing?”

Han walked inside and set you down on he couch. “She broke her ankle.”

You groaned. “It’s not broken, Ji.”

Han shrugged as Chan came out of your room. He raised an eyebrow. “Do I want to ask?” He asked curiously.

“I fell. I’m okay, but my ankle hurts. We haven’t brought in the shopping yet.” Chan nodded at your words and gave you a soft kiss.

“Han, grab an ice pack from the freezer. I.N., come with me and we’ll sort out the shopping.” The boys quickly went off to do their tasks. I.N. put on his shoes whilst Han went to the kitchen. Chris smiled at you and shook his head.

“At least we know where I.N. and Hyunjin get their clumsiness from.” He chuckled.

You smiled at his words and shook your head. “Be quick. There is ice cream in those bags, and I don’t want it to melt.” You and Chan shared another kiss before I.N.’s voice came from the door, telling Chan to hurry up.

Han walked into the room as Chan left. He put the ice pack, which was wrapped up, on your ankle carefully. He then took off your shoes and shook his head.

“Are you okay?” He asked you, his voice quiet.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you for helping me.” You said as you squeezed his hand.

“You’re welcome, and I’ll keep helping you. Whatever you want, I’m at your beck and call. Want some tea? I’ll make it. Want me to get you food? I’ll do it. Want me to boss any of the guys around? I’ll do it. Please ask me to boss them around.”

That made you laugh.

—------

Felix found you in the kitchen. It was a family dinner night. Chan and Minho were both at the store to pick up some things. So you were cooking dinner on your own. Which is something you have done many times before. However, it seemed you couldn't get anything right. Nothing was going your way.

As Felix stepped into the kitchen, he saw you hunched over the kitchen table, sobbing. He immediately walked over to you and hugged your back. Your body shook as you cried, but feeling Felix’s arms around you helped to ground you.

You let out a small gasp of breath. Felix loosened his grip a little as he felt you moving to stand properly.

“What happened?” He asked you, his voice soft.

“Nothing is going right. It’s like every cooking-related bone in my body decided to leave. Everything is either burnt or not even close to being cooked. I just…I messed it all up.” You told him, the tears freely running down your face.

Felix’s heart broke. He quickly grabbed a tissue and wiped your tears away. “It’s okay. These things happen.” He told you as he gently stroked his thumb over your wrist.

“I just wanted everything to be perfect. We’ve all been working so hard. You guys deserve a good meal.” You told him as you looked down in defeat.

Felix shook his head. “You always give us amazing meals. Let’s order something this once. We can cuddle and forget about everything for a while.” He pulled you out of the kitchen and to the couch. He tapped Changbin on the shoulder. “We’re gonna order food instead.”

Changbin raised an eyebrow but nodded nonetheless. Felix sat down on the couch and pulled you so you were between his legs, your head on his stomach. He immediately began playing with your hair.

Changbin got his phone out and picked what he wanted before passing the phone around the room. He ended up going to the kitchen. He quickly cleaned up.

Meanwhile, I.N. texted Chan and Minho to let them know that plans had changed. You stayed on the couch, slowly relaxing as Felix made sure you were okay. Han came to sit with you both, his hands gently rubbing your back.

—------

Seungmin noticed you were shutting down during an interview. He was sitting on your left, Chan on your right. You hadn’t been yourself all day. You were fidgeting in your seat. Your fingers came up to play with your locket more times than not. Playing with your locket often helped to ground and calm you. However, Seungmin noticed it wasn’t exactly working as well as usual.

So he gently placed a hand on your thigh and rubbed his thumb in circles. The touch helped you to come back to reality. You looked at Seungmin and smiled gratefully at him. A second hand came to rest on your opposite knee. Chan had noticed what Seungmin was doing and wanted to help as well. However, he decided to let Seungmin handle this; he would be ready to step in if he needed to.

Seungmin smiled at you. He continued to stroke your thigh as the interview continued on. He watched as you slowly let go of your locket after a while. You moved your hand to rest next to Seungmin’s. The male linked your thumbs together.

As the interview continued, you felt a lot calmer. All because Seungmin was keeping you grounded. He didn’t make a big deal about it. He didn’t draw attention to it. He just comforted you in the best way that he could in that moment.

Chan looked over at Seungmin, giving him a thankful nod and a proud smile.

—------

You didn’t want to move. You should have been up an hour ago. But you were still in bed, curled up on the bed. You were trying to will yourself into moving, but it was like your body didn’t want it. Like it just couldn’t. So you just lie there. Chan was already at the studio, having left early for a meeting.

However, the rest of the boys were still home. Jeongin had noticed you hadn’t come out of your room yet. Breakfast wasn’t made, and coffee wasn’t made. You weren’t humming in the kitchen or packing everything you needed for the day. The Maknae stood in the middle of the living room in confusion. Had you left with Chan this morning? No. He knew you hadn’t because you always left him two bento boxes and a travel cup of coffee when you left early with Chan. And there was no note saying so on the whiteboard that was on the fridge.

I.N. turned to look at your and Chan’s room. He walked over to the door and knocked on it before opening the door. He poked his head in and spotted you under your duvet. I.N. stepped into the room.

“Are you okay, Noona?” He asked, worry and curiosity filling him. He walked over to the bed and sat down on Chan’s side.

You shook your head. Tears are already filling your eyes.

“Did something happen?” He questioned.

“No, baby. I just..I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You felt tired. You felt like moving was your biggest enemy right now. But you had to move. You knew you had to. The boys needed you. You all had dance practice today.

I.N. shook his head. “Don’t be sorry. You’re allowed an off day. We can just stay in bed today.” He said as he lay down next to you. He took out his phone and texted the group chat. He let them know what was happening.

Baby Fox 🦊: Mama Bear isn’t feeling well. 😭 Fairy Prince 🌻: Is she okay? Can we help? 🩵 Personal Trainer 🐰: Does she need anything? 🫶 The Alpha 🐺: Let her stay home today. I’ll handle things on this end. Baby Fox 🦊: Can I stay with her? I don’t want to leave her alone. She’s really down. She looks like she’s going to cry. CatDaddy 😻: Yeah. Keep us updated. Tell her we can do the choreo tomorrow. Artsy Prince 💐: Tell her we love her.💕 You'd better pamper her. Puppy 📷: Make her tea. Squibble 🐿: We’ll bring home food.

I.N. put his phone to the side and looked at you. “We’ll have a self-care day. The guys have everything covered. Minho-hyung is going to go over the dance with us tomorrow. Nothing to worry about.” He told you.

You slowly nodded. You felt guilty. The boys were still working, you were keeping I.N. from cleaning up the dance with the others.

“Whatever you’re thinking, stop it. You’re allowed to have a day off. The others won’t be mad. They love you too much to ever be mad at you.” He told you as he sat up. “I’ll make us both a drink, and I’ll get the ice cream.” He leaned down and kissed your temple before leaving the room. He went to his room and changed into his pyjamas. I.N. then went to the kitchen. He made your favourite drink as well as his own. He then grabbed your favourite ice cream from the freezer as well as his own. He put everything on a tray and went back to your room. He set everything on Chan’s bedside table. He sat on the bed and looked around for a moment.

He had always liked your room. It was welcoming and filled with memories. On three of the walls were the paintings that Hyunjin had done for you. Above your desk was the painting of the boys all holding something that was presented to you. Above the bed was what Hyunjin named the ‘Family portrait. Beach edition.’ It was your favourite by far. On the wall to the right was a wall filled with not just paintings but pictures. Pictures of you and your family, Chan and his family. There were pictures of each of the guys, their pets. Pictures from the Kingdom and important milestones for the group. It was a real family wall. One that you took pride in. Your bed was incredibly comfortable. You seemed to have the best blankets. The fluffiest ones, too.

I.N. got comfortable before handing you your drink. He watched you slowly sit up. “How about we watch something?” He grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. He quickly found your comfort movie. ‘Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island’, He then opened an arm to you.

You took the opportunity to snuggle into I.N.’s side. His arm wrapped around your shoulder. He wasn’t big on touch, but he knew you needed it right now.

“Thank you, Innie.” You spoke quietly, but still loud enough for him to hear.

I.N. nodded his head with a smile. “Of course, anything for you. You’d do the same for me if the roles were reversed.” You had. He knew he could count on you. So he wanted to let you know that you could count on him as well.

Later that night, you were feeling a bit better. You had napped. You had watched so many movies and cackled at YouTube videos with I.N. You had done face masks, and I.N. had painted your nails. Innie felt proud of himself when you perked up a little as time went on. You’d had a nice bath whilst I.N. made lunch. The day had been perfect.

So when the boys all piled into the dorm once they had been dorm for the day, they all relaxed seeing you snuggled up with I.N. You head rested on his chest as he pointed at the screen. You were watching Ben Kim. A YouTuber.

“I.N fit now, though. I.N.’s super fit now.” Ben said on the screen as he leaned close to the camera.

“See, he gets me.” Innie connected as he picked up a spoonful of ice cream and shoved it into your mouth.

You let out a laugh and shook your head.

“Can you try not to choke her.” Seungmin spoke as he walked over to the couch and sat on your other side.

“Welcome home.” You said to the seven males.

Chan walked over and kissed your forehead. “We brought food. How are you feeling, my love?” He asked you as his hand stroked your hair.

“I feel better. Innie really helped.” You said honestly.

Chan nodded his head. “Good. Now, how about you go to the table? Minho and Binnie are setting the table as we speak.”

You nodded your head and let Seungmin drag you off the bed and to the dining room table.

Chan placed a hand on I.N.’s shoulder. “Thank you for looking after her today.”

Innie nodded his head. “Of course, I just wanted to see her smile again.”

Chan’s eyes softened as he smiled. “I’m proud of you.”

Those four words were the cherry on top of a pretty awesome day for Jeongin.

-----------

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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 1 month ago

Text

I didn't know there's gonna be part 3, BUT THIS IS SOOOO GOOD 🔥 🔥🔥🔥

That Your Man? - pt III

pairing: Lee Minho x fem!reader rating: mature, dark themes, smut summary: mugger!Minho is your boyfriend now. A client at the cat boarding facility becomes a problem. This one is just for fun. On a slower posting schedule than Chan’s Crack!Horror.

warnings: Mature. MDNI. First smut.

Word Count: ~4k

series info PART 2 INFO

< last part

“I swear, some of these people.” San drops his head into his hands, groaning at the computer screen. “This woman has emailed and called once a day for a week and a half asking if she can drop off her cat earlier than her reservation.”

You lean over his shoulder to peer at the email he’s pulling his hair out over. “Kiri’s owner? Yeah she yelled at me on the phone yesterday and then hung up on me.” You snort and put a fresh coffee down at San’s elbow. “Just copy and paste yesterday’s response to her. That’s what I do.”

He does as you suggest, already nodding. “I’ve been doing that. But still it’s this ‘hasn’t anyone cancelled yet? We have to be out of town by Friday’. Like, lady, this is what happens when you book your boarding after you make travel plans. That’s not my fault.”

“She yelled at you?” Minho appears around the corner, bearing his usual Wednesday box of donuts. “Mrs. Kim?”

You lean back in your chair, rolling her eyes. “She threw a fit at me about not taking care of loyal customers and not understanding the value of good money and her obvious emergency for needing this change to her reservation, and then when I did the whole ‘I’m sorry, but we’re booked solid’ routine, she fucking growled at me and hung up.”

Minho’s calm eyes slide to San. “Has she done that to you?”

He nods with a grumble. “Two days ago. Literally screamed into the phone. I think she threw something. Lady’s off her meds.”

Minho puts the box down. “Scoot.”

San scrambles obediently out of the chair, leaning over the back of yours to watch as Minho slips into his spot at the computer and opens a responding email.

He types rapidly without even blinking.

‘Mrs. Kim. Due to unfortunate circumstances surrounding the handling of Kiri’s upcoming stay at Wayward Street, we are unable to honor your reservation. I have cancelled your booking and attached an invoice for the return of your deposit. If you have any questions, please view our policy (attached) or contact me directly. We will also be unable to meet your boarding needs in the future. Kiri is a delightful guest and we will be sorry to see her go.

Thank you for understanding,

Lee Minho

Owner.’

“Damn.” San whistles lowly, watching Minho send the email with all necessary attachments and place a big red flag on Mrs. Kim’s client profile. “Cold as ice, boss.”

Minho pushes back from the computer and gets up. “When she calls—and she will—kindly give her my phone number and hang up. Also give her my phone number in her next email. There are other, commercial, boarding facilities who can deal with the headache of disrespectful clients.”

San retakes his place in the chair, shooting you an impressed grin. “Thank God. That poor sweet cat was on so many meds—it takes a whole thirty extra minutes just to administer her Sub-Q.”

Minho snags a donut from the box and pats your head fondly as he disappears around the corner to peek in on each of his kitty guests.

San’s stare turns shocked. “Did he just…”

You smirk. “Jealous? Gimme a donut.”

He passes you the whole box, mouth still open dumbly. “Are you two…”

“What?” You blink innocently.

It’s only been two weeks that you’ve officially been dating Minho, and to this point you have avoided any public announcements or affections in order to experience your budding relationship without interference.

San shakes his head, like he’s convinced he imagined it. “Nothing.” He turns back to the computer. “Now that that human migraine is gone, I can book my perfect precious baby Bobae for next week—” he navigates to the next email in the inbox. “My pretty wittle itty bitty Bo—nope, here’s Mrs Kim again. Goddammit.”

You’re cackling as the offending email appears on the screen with a ding!

It’s riddled with obscenities in all caps, only spurring on your laughter as San groans at the borderline death threats from the unhinged former client.

“Attach our policy page again and give her my number.” Minho calls from somewhere at the front of the building. “Mark her as spam.”

Your laughter pauses. “Oh, should we do that? What if she sues? Don’t we want to keep records?”

San shakes his head dismissively. “We don’t delete the spam folder. It’s backed up to our server. We’ll have anything she continues to send if we need it.” He fires off a curt response with all the necessary information and sends her firmly to spam. “Now back to Bobae.”

You leave him to deal with admin, collecting your coffee and joining Minho at the front. “Morning,” you greet warmly, peering into a room where he’s scratching a little tabby behind the ears.

Your boyfriend glances up at you with a smile that is nothing short of fond, standing to join you in the hallway.

A warm, lingering kiss presses to your lips, his fingers curling around your hips. “Good morning.” A breath against your face.

“Sleep well?” You press another soft kiss to his lips, a smile putting an ache in your cheeks when he squeezes you tightly.

“Oh my god.”

You startle away from Minho, glancing over your shoulder to see San’s head poking around the corner, gaping at you.

Minho rolls his eyes and sighs. “So much for blissful secrecy.” He runs a hand up your waist and steps away from you to grab a broom. “Stop leering, Choi San.”

“Are you guys dating?” San hoots, wheeling the chair into the hallway so he can face you head on. “Oh my god, finally! I knew it. You guys are so—”

“You’re about to be sent home.” Minho grumbles emptily, slipping back into the tabby’s room to clean.

San presses his lips together but his face turns red with barely restrained delight.

He’s practically vibrating.

“Would you chill?” You laugh at him, kicking his chair out of your way so you can start on the rooms at the back. “You look ridiculous.”

He jumps up to follow you, hulking frame bumping into the shelf that holds all of the kitty carriers. “When did it happen? Who asked who out? Oh my god, I knew you guys were into each other. He’s been so much smilier since you started working here, I just knew—”

“Choi San!” Minho snaps, but there’s only embarrassment in his tone.

San’s voice lowers to a thrilled whisper. “How long have you been dating?”

You’re still snickering, shoving him out of your way and barely gaining any ground against the sheer bulk of him looming behind you. “Dude, move. You’re gonna get us both fired.”

“Oh no.” San chuckles, leaning against the wall to give you space to work. “He won’t fire you. Not now that you’re in love. He may fire me—oh shit, he may fire me. I’m going back to the computer.”

The rest of the shift flies by quickly, punctuated by San’s bobbing eyebrows every time you happen to meet Minho’s eyes and the recurrence of your boyfriend smacking him upside the head whenever he pauses his work to gaze at the two of you like he’s watching a beloved child grow up and get married.

When he finally gets ushered out of the building at end of shift, departing with a playful wink at the two of you, Minho turns to you with a flat expression. “He’s exhausting.”

“He’s cute.” You return easily.

Minho’s eyebrows lift in disbelief. “He’s cute?” He steps closer, crowding into your space with a dangerous smirk. “He’s cute?”

Your feet stumble back, but he just follows. “Like a puppy. Or a kitten.” Your heart is exploding in your chest.

Minho crowds you against the wall but doesn’t move to touch you. “He’s insufferable.”

“It’s cute though.”

His arms cage you on either side. “Say that again.” Low, playful, warning. Eyes glinting with dangerous fire.

“Sannie’s just—”

You don’t get to finish. His fingers tangle in the edges of your shirt, jerking you to his chest, lips crashing against yours with vindictive heat.

“Sannie?” He mumbles against your mouth.

“He’s just excited—”

Minho nips at your lower lip, fingernails biting into your back. Your hands fly to his chest, a sharp gasp at his feverish touch.

“My girlfriend,” a bite to your lip. “Is not seriously,” a nudge that pushes your head back. “Talking about my employee,” a hot kiss to your throat. “Being fucking cute.”

“Sannie is cute.” You pant, fingers tangling in his hair.

Thank God the facility is closed and the door locked.

“He can’t help it, it’s just who he is.”

Your persistent comments do not go unpunished. Minho backs you firmly against the wall, one hand lifting to thread through your hair and grip tightly, angling your head further back. He’s everywhere, trailing wet kisses and nips down your throat, over your collarbones, pressing in so close you feel every bit of him against you.

“Keep talking about him.” He breathes, sucking harshly at a spot on your shoulder that your shirt covers when he lets go. “See what happens.”

You want nothing more than to see what happens.

“He’s happy for us. It’s adorable.”

He’s gone.

Cold air from the overhead fan seeps into your skin where he was, and you’re reeling from the loss of contact.

Still panting, eyes wide and blinking, you find your boyfriend across the room, pushing his arms into his jacket and snatching your purse off the hook. “Minho, what—”

He takes your hand with a softness that contradicts the hard set of his jaw, the fierce determination in his eyes. Minho presses one more searing kiss to your lips, and then locks his gaze with yours. “You asked for this.” He reminds you with a rasp.

And then he’s tugging you out the door.

You don’t even get a chance to take in his apartment before he’s tossing your purse to the table and yanking the zipper of your jacket down. “Tell me to stop.” He mumbles against your lips. “We’ll go to lunch.” His hands push the jacket off your shoulders, down your arms. “Perfectly respectable. Anywhere you wanna go.”

You can’t even think about lunch.

Your fingers are clenched in his shirt, beckoning him closer, thighs pressing close together as he holds you against him. “Fuck lunch.”

It’s all he needs.

Your shirt is gone, on the floor at your feet, his hands coasting up the bare skin of your back. He kisses you, firm and slow as his fingers hook under the band of your bra. “I want to see you,” he whispers, and then he’s moving backwards, pulling you with him. “Will you let me see you?”

Your hands push at his chest and he lets you go abruptly, heaving with ragged breaths. His eyes are hungry, following your movements as you work your clasp, and then the garment slides off your arms.

Top half bare, exposed, you stand before him, cheeks hot, waiting.

Minho stares at you. From the fluttering of your lashes, to the glistening of your lips, to your bare chest, to the softness of your stomach. He’s memorizing, writing you into his brain, hands trembling as he reaches for you.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, catching your lips in another kiss. Soft, loving, tasting. Hot hands trace up your sides, thumbs brushing the swell of your breasts, palms dragging across your back. “Beautiful.”

You melt into his touch, skin tingling under his hands, heart racing. “Minho.” You grip his shirt again. “Minho, please.”

He pushes you down to the couch, crowding down over you, the heat of his body blazing against your naked chest. His tongue traces your bottom lip and you let him in, thighs clenching as he groans into your mouth.

You’re working the buttons of his shirt blindly. His hips push against you and you feel him, hard through his jeans. His fingers tighten around your waist at your moan, and he leans back with a start, yanking his shirt off over his head.

Minho’s hands land on your hips and drag down your thighs over your jeans, panting as he stares down at you with that heavy gaze.

You’re tracing the lines of his chest, fingertips pressing into the contours of his stomach, watching his eyelids flutter at your touch. It’s not the first time things between you have gotten heated, but to this point it’s been limited to a hot and heavy kiss, palms pressing over your clothes, a trail of bruises down the exposed parts of your clothed chest—nothing like this.

Nothing so vulnerable.

Nothing so raw.

You’ve never seen him like this, panting over you, staring down at you like he’s seconds away from consuming you where you lay.

Your fingertips brush over the button of his jeans, and he flinches. “Jagi,” He groans, bending low over you and pulling your mouth to his again. “You drive me crazy.”

He’s moving before you can answer, mouth hot over your chest, tongue tracing over the ridges of your collarbones, and you feel the button of your own jeans come undone under his hands. The denim loosens around your hips, scraping your skin as he pushes down, never once lifting his mouth from your chest.

“Big bad robber,” You tease with a gasp, feeling his teeth nip at the top of your breast in punishment, hands wrenching the jeans past your thighs with a final tug. “You’re not so scary.”

Minho’s eyes lift from your body, meeting yours with a treacherous smirk. His hands are tracing the undersides of your thighs, pressing into the soft flesh, a moan sinking into the curve of your breast. “Scary isn’t exactly what I’m going for, jagiya.” His fingers curl around the bend of your knees, yanking you flush against him, only your underwear and his jeans between you.

His sinful gaze lights up at the flushed hue of your cheeks, your hands flying to his shoulders as wetness pools between your thighs.

“Minho, stop teasing me.” You’re reaching for him, but he doesn’t let you grasp the waistband of his own pants, instead interlocking your fingers and pressing your hands into the couch at your ears.

“You want to be teased.” He tugs your earlobe between his teeth. “You’re begging for it. Aren’t you?”

A shiver rushes over you. You try to catch his lips, but he pulls back. A frustrated groan scrapes up your throat. “Minho.”

He laughs softly, tongue darting out to lick a hot stripe right between your breasts. “I finally have you in my hands, Jagi.” He whispers against your skin. “I’m going to enjoy it.”

You’re trapped beneath his hands, his hips wedged firmly between your thighs, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Not that you want to. He rolls his hips against you again, and a rush of sensation explodes behind your eyes.

When you let out a cry, frustration and arousal mixing in a ragged breath, he releases your hands and taps a wet kiss against your lips. “You sound so pretty like this.” His nose bumps against yours. “I could listen to you all day, Jagiya.” A kiss to your chin, then to your throat. “My jagiya.” A squeeze of your breasts, soft and careful. “My jagi.” A gentle bite to the center of your stomach. “Mine.”

“Minho.” You beg. Your head is full of him, the thrill of his touch clouding your senses, your hips lifting to beg for friction. You’re rewarded by his hands at your waist, tightening around your sides, a firm kiss to your pelvic bone over your panties.

“We can go to lunch, jagi.” He whispers. “Tell me you don’t want me. Tell me you want to wait.”

“No.” You bite out through clenched teeth. “Please, Minho, I want you.” You want this. You need this. He’s torturing you, and based on the sly curve of his lips, he’s enjoying it.

He unfastens his pants, shifts his weight to shuck them off, and then it’s just you and him. Boxers, panties, hot skin, heaving lungs. Your eyes flick down, escaping the sudden longing in his gaze that makes you feel so much more naked than you already are, feeling the callouses of his palms holding the meat of your thighs on either side of his hips.

Your fingers curl around the elastic of his boxers, glancing to him once more for final decision, and at the openness of his expression you push down until he’s bare, pressing against your clothed core.

He groans, falling down against you, and braces himself on his arms. “My girl.” He whispers. “My beautiful girl. Let me have you?”

Your fingers cup his jaw, tilting his head up to meet your eyes. He’s an enigma of alternating put-on arrogance and desperation, staring at you with a devotion that shakes you. He would tease you until you fell apart, but he won’t take a thing you don’t give him. You kiss him. Gently. Softly. “Please, baby. Please.”

His eyes flash, dangerous light sending a thrill straight to your core.

“I want to taste you,” Minho whispers, hands tightening around your hips. “I want to watch you come apart. I want to take my time with you.” His breath cascades over your face, hips rolling over yours, the heat of his bare length pressing against your panties. “But this time,” His face falls to your throat, leaning there like he can’t even hold himself up anymore. “I want to feel you around me first.”

You don’t care. You don’t need any more foreplay. Not this time. Not when he’s been lighting you on fire since the moment he pulled you into his apartment. You just want him, and you want him now. “Please fuck me, Minho. Please, baby.”

He groans, hips thrusting against you again. “You sound so pretty, jagi. Begging for me already.” His teeth close around your shoulder, hands tugging your panties down.

Minho guides himself to your core, pushing in with a hiss between his teeth.

Stars explode behind your eyes, thick, hot pressure throbbing against him, a whimper falling off your lips. “Minho—go slow—please, Minho—”

“I got you, jagi.” His brow rests on your temple, littering gentle kisses over your cheek. “I’ve got you, breathe for me.”

You clutch at him, sucking in a bracing breath at the combating pain and pleasure that sends tremors through your body. It’s not your first time, not remotely, but it’s a slow stretch all the same that leaves you gasping.

He pushes in carefully, fighting your tight resistance, giving you time to adjust. Your back arches at the feeling of suddenly being full, of feeling him everywhere. His arms band around your waist, settling himself flush against you with a soft groan. “I’ve got you, jagi.”

It’s so much.

It’s so much all at once, to be surrounded by him like this. You’re gasping against him as he kisses you, catching your cries with tender caresses of his lips. “My jagi,” Minho moans into your mouth, waiting, still.

When your hips roll against him, searching for more, he grips you tight.

He moves with you, thrusting in with a slow pull that drags another whimper out of you.

“You’re mine,” He rasps against your throat, teeth scraping the dip of your clavicle. “Mine.” A thrust that rocks your entire body. “My beautiful girl.”

Your nails bite into his arms braced around your head, soft pants whispering against his hair. “Yours,” your eyes close, his hips grinding heavily against yours. “All yours, Minho.”

When you’re spent, floating blissfully in the calm after the storm, lying pressed together on the couch, tangled like you’ll never come apart, his phone rings. He finds his phone in the couch cushions where it fell out of his jeans pocket at some point, turning the screen to find the automated caller ID read “Kim Sooyoung.”

He drops it on the floor with an irritated huff. “Goddammit.”

You snicker against his chest, tracing your fingers up his ribs with playful lightness. “So, about lunch.”

to be continued

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#skz #stray kids #crack horror #that your man?#lee minho #lee know #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader

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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 1 month ago

Text

I think Im in too deep for Minsung guys

Anger Management

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

Pairing: Lee Minho/Lee Know x Han Jisung/Han x Fem Reader

Themes: Smut, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: ~19.5k | AO3

Warnings: Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Cussing, Oral Sex, Hand Jobs, Vaginal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Alternate Universe, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Vaginal Sex, Protected/Unprotected Sex, One mention of previous sexual assault

Summary: When reader is given a court order to attend anger management classes, the last thing she expects is to become even more angry than before. It’s all thanks to a certain Lee Minho. Jisung intervenes in… interesting ways…

Author's Note: I want to start of first by apologizing to you guys for the delayed content. Some shit has slowed down my writing lately so hopefully it will pick up again soon. Next, this is for my lovely baby @lyramundana and her long awaited request. I hope you like it honey!

__________________________________________

He thought you were actually really fucking talented. Like outrageously so.

Like, yeah you were only a solo act and just an amateur opening for them, but Jisung couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Every stroke over your guitar strings emanated such emotion that Jisung couldn’t help but feel like he was deeply connected with you and your song.

An acoustic opening act was a bit odd for his rap group 3RACHA, but he had no complaints. Besides, this was just a small dive bar that usually only hosted other musicians, ones of all genres. After he, Chan, and Changbin finished their act, Jisung’s eyes involuntarily swept the establishment in hopes to find you and express how much he enjoyed your act.

Luckily enough, he and his two bandmates saddled up with a large group that was talking up some nonsensical chatter that you happened to be a part of. The three of them were pretty well known at this establishment, so introductions were passed around and he found your shy smile to be absolutely beautiful.

The more you talked, the more you reminded him of his boyfriend, Minho.

Jisung’s mind was always on Minho 24/7. It was a problem really, but everywhere he looked he would always think ‘I should show Minho this’ or ‘I wonder if Minho would like that’. It was pretty freaking adorable to everyone else, but Chan and Changbin teased him relentlessly for it.

It was one such involuntary thought that popped into his mind now. I bet Minho would like this girl.

Jisung didn’t necessarily get the chance to talk to you one on one, but he couldn’t help but notice that your gaze often met his own and you would blush furiously and look away rapidly with a cute shy smile.

Unfortunately, you had to leave sooner than Jisung had expected, but he offered a quick compliment about your performance before you stepped away from the group with a grateful wave and retreated toward the exit.

Jisung smiled to himself as you walked away and thought to himself. Maybe I can bring hyung here next time and see if she comes. I think he would be more successful in gaining the courage to talk to her alone.

Now, with his soulmate on his mind, he couldn’t wait to get home to his gorgeous boyfriend and tell him all about the night.

__________________________________________

“It’s very nice to meet you, young lady. Since you are new to the group, please give us a brief description of why it is that you have come here today.” You huffed at the class instructor’s response to your introduction, your mood already being foul for having to wake up so early on a Saturday.

You wouldn’t say you were necessarily an angry person, just somewhat… high-strung. That is why it pissed you the fuck off that you were given a court order to attend anger management classes twice a week for a month.

You rolled your eyes as you stood next to your chair in a group full of strangers that had their own problems to deal with and didn’t have any business in having you air out your dirty laundry in front of them. “Is that really necessary?” You said with clenched teeth to the instructor.

“Recognition is the first step to identifying where your stressors lay.” Fucking smartass response.

You huffed once more before crossing your arms and standing straight to contain yourself. “My stressors are blatantly clear. Because apparently, according to public law enforcement, it is considered mutinous to bash your ex’s face in with a guitar. Even if the bastard was fucking some chick in your own goddamned bed and all he got away with was a tiny fractured nose and some blue balls.”

Your eyes were clenched shut from the fury in your statement, but they snapped open real quick when you heard a sudden chuckling from the other side of the circle. The man had warm brown hair and wore a black button-up with the sleeves rolled up. It was hard not to notice his powerful-looking thighs through his black ripped jeans, but you reestablished eye contact. Even that proved to be difficult due to the fact that his face looked like it belonged to a carefully crafted marble sculpture by a legendary artist.

“Something funny?” You couldn’t hide the venom in your tone as you forced yourself to glare at the man who was so rudely laughing at your predicament.

Instead of getting defensive of your attack, he just offered you a petty smirk. Albeit beautiful, it was still petty. “Nothing at all, please, do continue. I feel like we were just getting to the good part.” He said with an amused smile.

You felt steam rise in your ears and you narrowed your eyes at him. “What? Is your life so shitty that you must find entertainment in other's problems?” He lifted an amused eyebrow, the rest of the class dead silent as you two stared each other down. “Well, unlike you, I came here because I defended myself. When I’m sure you came because you were the abuser!” You blurted in your fit of rage and defense.

He shot out of his chair in a flash, any sign of amusement gone as you both glared into each other’s eyes with fury. “What the fuck did you just sa–?”

“Minho-ssi, please sit down immediately! Ma’am, you are finished as well. We are here to face our own problems, not stir up more.” After some grumbling and a few choice words said under your breath, both of you quietly sat down, but the glaring contest failed to waver the entire time.

Your first class was filled with feelings and trauma and pain and by the end of it, you were basically bolting out the door to wait for your ride.

You leaned up against the exterior of the building and fished a cigarette out of your purse. You knew it was a nasty habit, really disgusting actually, but after quitting for so long and having all this shit happen to you, you needed some type of stress relief.

You wrapped your lips around it and cupped your hand around the flame to avoid the breeze from the autumn air extinguishing it before you could actually light up the cancer stick. You took a huge drag from it and watched as the smoke twisted and twirled its way through the wind.

Why did you have to be here? It was his fault you were forced to come. That bastard got to fuck some random bitch and you got sentenced with a court order? How fucked up is that…

What really hurts is that you trusted him… you had been with him for a whole year, one of the longest relationships you had been in up to that point. That was an entire year of your life that you could never get back. How was he so willing to throw it all away for some quick fuck? You felt the water rise in your eyes and chalked it up to being from the cold breeze.

You sucked in a long puff again and saw ‘Minho’, or whatever in hell the instructor called him, walk past you with a taunting smirk directed at you. Without stopping or slowing down, he directed a short, “Smoking kills,” thrown in your direction.

“Tell it to someone who cares, asshole.” You spat at him as you flipped him off for good measure. He just continued to walk and you heard a light chuckle come from his plump lips.

On the bright side, he took you out of your spiraling thoughts by pissing you off again. You glared daggers at him as you watched him walk over to his ride and give a long peck on the lips to who you assumed to be his driver just standing outside waiting for him.

However, instead of hopping in the car and leaving, you saw Minho eye you and smirk as he said something to his partner. When the other man turned around to look at you, most likely because Minho was talking shit, you froze and the cigarette fell from your fingers to the ground like an ashy flurry in the wind.

Han Jisung.

That’s what he said his name was, right? Surely it was because you remembered not being able to take your eyes off of him the entire night before your violent breakup. He was so gorgeous and adorable that you could have talked to him all night and wouldn’t have been able to get over his beauty. Sure you were emotional and available that night, but he made no move to personally talk to you.

And now you knew why.

You tried to push aside the fact that he probably didn’t remember who you were and realized it kind of pissed you off that the couple looked so drop-dead gorgeous together. You composed yourself when you realized you were shamelessly checking out Minho’s boyfriend and you knew he noticed because you noted the cocky-ass smile that was painted on Minho’s features as he looked back at you and wrapped his arm around Jisung’s waist and planted a kiss on his cheek just to rub it in.

The boiling rage in you subsided when you heard your ride yell out his car window to get a move on. You escaped the stares from the men and stamped out your cigarette with the toe of your shoe before booking it to hop in the car.

“Ew, please don’t tell me you’re smoking again…” Your best friend and roommate Seungmin said as he wrinkled his nose from the smell of you.

“Can-it, Seung. I’m not in the mood today.” You huffed as you buckled your seatbelt.

He clicked his tongue and faced you before starting up the car. “Bitch, you’re never in the mood. Don’t tell me whether or not to be concerned for my friend.” You showed him an exasperated eye roll and he continued. “Don’t give me that shit. I know you’ve been going through it, but really. It’s not a desirable trait, babe.” And with that, he set off to take you home.

“And who said I want to be desirable? At this point, I’ll end my youth by giving up on all dating whatsoever. Especially if the super hot ones are secretly douchebags.” Your mind took you to Minho and how smitten he looked with Jisung. “Like, shit. It’s like I can’t escape any of the asshats in the world. Even in this stupid fucking class!”

Seungmin looked at you sympathetically and patted your knee. “Don’t worry about them, yeobo. They are just pieces of shit because they’ve got their own stuff going on. Don’t take it too personally.”

You sighed and leaned your head up against the window. “Easier said than done, Seung.”

__________________________________________

The following Wednesday morning was your next session and you sat as far away as humanly possible from Minho. However, it kind of backfired when you realized that it put you on the direct opposite end of the circle from the little shit, making it impossible to ignore him while he was directly in your line of vision.

“Okaaay, good morning everyone! It looks like everyone’s here, let’s begin! How has everyone been since our last session?” She had a bright smile on her face and was way too peppy for eight o’clock in the morning. You, on the other hand, were warming your hands with the necessary cup of coffee you needed to get through the class.

After what felt like an eternity of listening to the other patron’s rambling, you were surprised to see the usually non participating Minho raise his hand. The instructor seemed shocked as well. “Oh! Minho-ssi! Please, go ahead!” Again, way too cheerful.

“My apologies, teach. But aren’t food and drinks prohibited in this class?” He didn’t break eye contact with you throughout the entire, headass sentence that spewed from his lips.

You cowered in your seat when the whole class turned to look directly at you. “Ah, yes. Ehm… I’m sorry sweetie, but you’ll have to throw that away…” You looked absolutely baffled.

“Seriously? It’s just one fucking cup of coffee!” The rising anger seeped through your words. That motherfucker…

The instructor looked to you imploringly. “I know, I know. But take a deep breath. It IS just ONE cup of coffee. Nothing to get worked up over, yeah? How about we all take a fifteen break and you can finish it outside, okay?”

Instead of responding, you stood up out of your chair and marched to the front door.

Coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other, you nestled yourself even further into your coat, attempting to retain any heat that was being siphoned away from you in the late fall weather. You closed your eyes after taking a large gulp and a long drag, trying to control your breathing so you wouldn’t march in there and pummel that asshole into the ground.

“Still smoking, huh?” You squeaked and jumped at the voice that was suddenly right next to you, causing you to drop your cigarette. Fucking again??

You held your hand over your heart and muttered ‘motherfucker’ under your breath as you collected yourself. The man of the hour just stood there with a smirk on his face.

“Aw, what is it, princess? Not happy to see me?” He said patronizingly with a head tilt that you refused to acknowledge as cute. You glowered at the man and aggressively stamped out your cigarette with your boot and, without a word, you looked him dead in the eye as you made a show to throw away your coffee. With an amused smile on his lips, you brushed past him to go back inside, aggressively shoving his shoulder in the process.

The class was agonizingly slow as you tried your hardest to not give in to Minho’s silent taunts the whole time. When you were, once again, waiting for your ride out front, you stiffened as you felt a presence saddle up to stand next to you. “Minho, I’ve had enough of your shit to last a lifetime. You can kindly fuck right off.” You muttered as you refused to look at him.

“Aw, but where’s the fun in that?” When you refused to respond to him, he deliberately stepped in your line of vision and you could feel your blood boil once again. “I’m surprised to see your cigaretteless hands. They’re quite pretty that way.” He smirked.

“Well, you’re pretty fucking annoying! My bad habits are none of your concern!” In the back of your mind, you recognized you were raising your voice, but you were too caught up in the moment to even give a damn.

“So you admit it’s a bad habit?” He raised a brow at you and you huffed a sarcastic laugh.

“I have no problem admitting that. I even quit for a while, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Why’d you start again?”

You looked at him incredulously. “I said it’s none of your goddamned business! Why the fuck are you even talking to me?!” Your arms made a grand gesture to drive the point across.

“I think it’s entertaining as hell to piss you off.” There was no hesitation in his statement as he looked down at you with pure amusement in his eyes.

“You–!” You heard a throat clear from beside you and you jolted a tiny bit. Now that you had your angry tunnel vision cleared, you noticed a couple of things. First, Jisung was the one that had silently approached. And second, you found that, in your fit of rage, you and Minho had gravitated dangerously close.

You basically jumped back and cleared your own throat to compose yourself as you resumed your previous post. “Hi!” You looked at Jisung with wide eyes as he greeted you. “I see you’ve met my temperamental boyfriend.” He chuckled as he looked at said man with adoration in his eyes and, for some reason, it made you feel… lonely.

“Oh, um, yeah...” Oh yeah, reeeal intelligent response. You thought as you internally rolled your eyes at yourself.

He chuckled and you thought his smile warmed the entire ten-yard radius around you. “You don’t remember me, do you?” He said a bit bashfully as he looked down with a small smile.

Your eyes popped open even wider and you waved your hands in front of yourself in denial. “N-no! Of course, I remember you! Jisung, right? From 3RACHA?”

He instantly lit up again and Minho shifted uncomfortably. “The one and only! I was afraid I didn’t leave a good enough impression for you to remember.” Again, Jisung said with a shy smile.

“Far from it! It’s hard to forget such talent. Really!” Jisung lit up even more at your words.

“Okay, what the fuck is happening? How do you two know each other?” Minho said, interjecting rather rudely if you do say so yourself. Your mood instantly soured again.

“Shush, jagi. Don’t be so rude. I met her at our usual bar where me and the guys perform. She opened for us a couple of weeks ago. You should hear her sing, she’s phenomenal! Plus, she plays the guitar like an angel.”

You blushed and looked down, failing to hide a smile from your lips. “Oh, I wouldn’t say it like that…” You humbly offered.

“Is this the famous guitar you bashed your boyfriend’s face in with?” Minho asked while failing to repress his laugh.

“You what?!” Han said as he looked at you with shocked eyes.

You glowered at Minho and huffed. “I think you mean EX boyfriend. And, not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I broke his nose along with my favorite guitar. Now I regret not using something else to swing at that fucker.” You crossed your arms and cast your gaze away from the two, feeling the regret return all over again from hurting your precious instrument.

“Ahhh, so that’s why I haven’t seen you around there lately. What a shame. That guitar was a real beauty.” You just sighed and nodded your head in defeat as you returned your attention to Jisung. “Well, in the meantime, if you want to borrow my guitar I’d happily lend it to you.”

His smile was genuine and your eyes widened. “What?! N-no, I could never! I mean, that’s very kind of you, but there’s no way I’d be able to be comfortable with someone else's guitar…” You were exasperated but mumbled a few last words. “I guess it would feel a bit too… intimate?” You had your eyes glued to the ground but you spared a look up at him.

He bit his lip with a smile and Minho’s face also housed an expression that made you feel suddenly hot with embarrassment. Jisung took a step closer to you and put a hand on your shoulder. “Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.” He said with a crooked smile, making you a bit faint for a moment before you composed yourself and looked back at his eyes and offered a small smile and a nod.

“Okay, well as much as I would love to stand here and watch you eye fuck each other, we’ve got places to be. C’mon Hannie baby.” Minho made a move to grab Jisung’s hand and you watched them interlace fingers as Jisung showed Minho a teasing smile and pressed his side into him.

“Oh? Would you rather have her eye fuck you?” Minho’s eyes went wide and he instinctually glanced at you before returning them to his boyfriend. “I mean, look at her, hyung…” Jisung directed him and his boyfriends attention toward you again and you were sure you were as red as a tomato as he talked. “Isn’t she gorgeous?” Jisung’s taunting eyes moved over you and slowly turned more serious. “Talented too.”

Before you even knew how to react, Jisung wrapped one of his arms around his boyfriend and then the other around you, making you freeze in shock at his boldness. He huddled the three of you close, as if he were about to tell a secret.

“Should I tell her what you told me about her yesterday? About how all she needs is to be tamed by filling her mouth with a huge, pulsating co–”

Jisung was cut off when Minho slapped a hand over his mouth and fixed him with a deadly glare. However, when he was released, Jisung broke out in contagious giggles that transferred over to your own mouth. Jisung released both of you as he held his stomach in a fit of laughter.

You peeked at Minho with a hand over your mouth, partially from laughter and partially to hide the pure astonishment from his alleged comment. When he met eyes with you, he scowled and addressed Jisung without backing down on his intense glare. “Are you fucking happy now? C’mon, Sung, we’re going.” Without waiting for an answer, Minho then proceeded to drag his giddy boyfriend to the parking lot as Jisung winked goodbye at you.

Little did you know, Seungmin had seen the whole thing. You sighed and groaned internally. Well, this is going to be interesting…

Once you had prepared yourself for the onslaught of questioning, you hopped in the car as the man drove you home and did, indeed, grill you for details.

__________________________________________

What the fuck was his problem? Minho had been staring daggers into you the entire first half of class and you couldn’t fathom why. He was always the one pissing you off. That fucker had no right to be pissed! (Even if he looked extremely sexy over there, slumped in his chair with his full focus on you. Lips parted and brows furrowed.)

Under different circumstances, you’d be on your knees in a heartbeat if someone looked at you like that.

During break, you went outside and habitually lit a cigarette. You needed some distraction from the fiery ball of rage that was Lee Minho.

Right as you took your first drag, a hand swooped out and grabbed it from you. You watched in outrage as Minho threw the barely-used cancer stick on the ground and stomped it out. Your revolted expression whipped to face him and burned into his eyes. Before you could breathe a word, he bracketed you up against the wall, effectively stealing the air from your lungs and stunning you to silence.

“I bet you thought that was pretty fucking funny yesterday, huh?” He growled from just inches away from your face.

You huffed a scoff that didn’t show on your frozen face. “What? Watching your face turn an adorable shade of pink? Yeah, I thought it was pretty fucking funny.” You refused to back down. “In fact, I sympathize with what you said yesterday. I, too, find it amusing as hell to piss you off.”

Even though he already had you pressed up against the wall, he inched his beautiful face even closer to you. Definitely not thinking about how cute the freckle on his nose is or plump his lips are or how you could feel his breath on your lips or how his eyes held galaxies in them as he stared into your soul… Yeah, DEFINITELY none of that was on your mind…

“Well congratulations, you succeeded.” His brows furrowed more and you smirked.

“What? It’s not my fault you were having naughty thoughts about me.” Your eyes involuntarily flitted down to his lips and you watched in stunned silence as his eyes did the same.

You both realized how close you had gotten, almost pressed against each other, before he quickly stepped back and cleared his throat. “I… I didn’t… You just… Ugh!” He stumbled over his words for a response and just ended up storming away and back into the building.

From glaring at you the entire first half, he now wouldn’t dare look you in the eye. He almost looked like he was pouting and you couldn’t help but find it a little cute…

For some reason, on your way out after class, you saw the instructor call for Minho to stay behind. You didn’t find it necessary to snoop, so you went on your merry way, only to run face-first into Jisung as soon as you got outside.

“Woah! Hey there, gorgeous!” He said with a bright smile as he held you by the arms to stabilize you from your crash into him. You looked down and blushed with a smile, a bit intimidated by having his full attention. You felt a bit more at ease once he released you.

“H-Hi Jisung. I think Minho’s talking to the instructor.” You explained, thinking he was wondering where his boyfriend was.

“Oh, okay! Well, how’ve you been since I saw you last week? I know you’ve been on Min’s mind an awful lot.” He said casually with a chuckle.

What? No way.

“Are we talking about the same Minho? The one who almost throttled me for laughing at him last week?” You huffed a half-chuckle in disbelief and raised a brow.

“He almost did what now?” He sounded shocked but intrigued all the same.

“Yeah! He pushed me up against the wall during break time and grilled me!”

Jisung’s face grew a wry smile and he stepped an inch closer. “Oh he did, did he? Very interesting…” You were a bit apprehensive considering his tone. His eyes darted over your shoulder briefly before looking back at you and digging in his pocket. You were a bit dumbfounded when he held his phone out to you.

“Well, while he’s standing in the doorway watching us…” He said, trying to suppress his smile. You had to force yourself to not look behind you. “Give me your number and I promise we can rile him up a bit more, yeah?”

A smile slowly bloomed on your face and you tentatively took the phone from him. “I like the way you think, my friend.” You tapped away your contact on his phone and saved your name as ‘Angry Bitch’ with a smug smile.

He guffawed as he read it and briefly sent you a text to share his number as well, naming himself in-text ‘Sexy Quokka’. You shared a small giggle yourself and were startled when you felt gentle fingers brush across your cheek. “You have such a pretty smile…” He said with a soft grin that made your ears instantly turn red.

You were knocked from your reverie when you felt a not-so-gentle hand grab your shoulder and quickly spin you around. “Are you just trying to get on my bad side?” You crossed your arms and raised a brow at him in defiance.

“Does that mean you actually have a good side? I’m shocked!” You exclaimed in mock surprise.

The side of his lip curled up in an outrageous sneer. Again, he came within an inch of your face. “What the fuck is your deal?! First, you rat me out to the teacher and said I was being violent during break–” What?? “And now you decide to start whoring around my boyfriend?!”

Ouch.

Whore. That word cut you deep. Some people found it hot during sex, others just think it’s another word. For you, it was what your ex would constantly berate you as. Any time you came home late from work? Whore. If you told him you wanted to actually orgasm during sex? Whore. If you even glanced at another man. Whore. Whore. Whore.

It felt like a punch to the gut to hear those words from Minho’s mouth and he seemed to notice as he backed off and furrowed his brows. You felt the stupid, angry tears well up in your eyes. Angry from his words and angry with how Minho and Jisung were looking at you now. Surprise. Regret. Concern.

“H-Hey… I didn’t mea–” You refused to let Minho finish the sentence as you turned around and started walking.

“Wait! Please don’t go!” You heard Jisung say right before you shut the door to Seungmin’s car.

“Everything alri–”

“Just go. Please.” You said calmly to avoid Seungmin’s questioning and, thankfully, he got the hint as the two of you drove home in silence.

__________________________________________

You didn’t feel like going to your next class, too afraid to encounter Minho. But the instructor wasn’t having it. After you missed class, you got a call from her reminding you that this was a court order and you were required to complete the entire course.

So, with that in mind, you sluggishly dragged yourself out of bed the following class, not giving two shits that you were arriving late, and slumped down in the only chair available.

Right. Next. To. Minho.

You refused to look at him. Refused to acknowledge his existence, even, as the lesson went on. When your break started, you bolted to the bathroom to hide before he could get a single word out. Not for a lack of trying…

You could feel his eyes burn into you the entirety of the second half of class, too. Just when you were about to bolt again when class was dismissed, you felt a gentle hand grab your wrist. “Please. Just… just hear me out…” You refused to look at him, but you made no move to leave. You heard him sigh as he released your hand. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s fine.” And that was all you felt the need to say before you turned and left before he could stop you again.

You felt a cold breeze flit past you when you stepped out of the building and you took a deep breath of fresh air, only to run straight into someone when you rounded the corner.

Of. Fucking. Course.

Just like last time, Jisung’s hands grabbed you to stabilize you, but this time he didn’t release you. “Do you make a habit of running into people?” He mused as he flashed a guarded smile at you.

You brushed off his hands and stepped back. “It’s not like I try to. Sorry…” You refused to look him in the eye and you began to walk off, but you were halted by another presence stepping in your path.

And there the couple stood, side by side, fully focused on you as you looked up at them like a kicked puppy. You heard Jisung sigh heavily before you looked at him again.

“Look, please just hear us out. If you still don’t forgive us, I give you permission to slap us silly, okay?” They both looked at you with the most adorable pouty eyes and you crossed your arms.

“Just get on with it…”

Minho let out a large sigh and bit his lip before speaking. “I talked to the teacher and she told me that another classmate saw us outside last week and they were the ones who told her. I…” Your eyes were fixed on his frustrated features as he paused. “I’m sorry I blamed you… And I’m sorry for what I said… I know you’re not a whore, I was just pissed off…”

You winced at the word again and he definitely noticed.

Jisung decided to speak up. “And it’s my fault for riling him up anyway. I’m just sorry I got you stuck in the middle of it…” Jisung looked genuinely apologetic and you slightly slumped in defeat.

However, you tensed up again when you were basically electrocuted by the sensation of Minho resting his hand on your shoulder and looking at you with furrowed brows.

“Look, I just… you make me… I can’t… ugh…” His hand flew to his hair in frustration and your mind betrayed you for wanting to run your hands through those silky chocolate locks yourself. “Look, I don’t know what I’m trying to say… I just–”

“It’s fine.” You said as you calmly cut him off. “It’s nothing, just forget about it.” Your face held no emotion and his brows turned inward.

“I can’t just forget about it… I hurt you…”

You scoffed. “Since when did you care about that? Like I said, just forget it, I definitely know that I want to.” You took note of the frustration and sorrow that was painted across his face and you had to stop yourself from grabbing his hand when he finally released your shoulder.

You froze in place when he, instead, stepped up closer to you and looked down into your eyes. “I do care…” You were speechless. Why in the world would he care about you? You were no one to them.

Jisung stepped closer as well and you felt extremely small under their intimidating towering. “How about we take you out to dinner tonight? As a peace offering?” You narrowed your eyes tentatively and Jisung quickly spoke again. “Y-you can even order the most expensive food and drinks! Completely on us! And we can go wherever you like!”

You giggled at his rambling and you were sure you saw both of them slump in relief as the unwelcome tension that blanketed the area finally lifted. You looked down at your feet (partially to avoid their intense eye contact) and you deliberated.

You barely know these men. It wouldn’t be the brightest idea to go out with complete strangers anyway, let alone one with anger issues! You don’t know what caused it, it could be anything! But… for some reason, they seem trustworthy… Even after what happened last week, Jisung didn’t harass you with constant texts and he respected your distance. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t been out in a while and it would be nice to have a free meal and some drinks…

You let out a big sigh and looked back up at them. Fine, what the hell. “What time?” You had to bite back your endeared smile when you witnessed their faces light up in delight. Even if Minho quickly corrected himself and forced himself to look unaffected.

“A-any time you like!” Jisung babbled. “If you want, just text me the time and place and we’ll be there!”

You both looked at Minho after he briefly cleared his throat. “Or… um… we could pick you up at yours? So you don’t have to find a ride… and you’re safe getting home and stuff.” He didn’t look at you as he talked and he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Well this is a new look for him…

Jisung smiled endearingly at him and rubbed his back before looking back at you. “Does that sound alright to you?”

You considered, thinking it would be nice to not have to resort to Seungmin’s help for yet another reason and also while avoiding public transport. You smirked at Minho who had returned his eyes to you. “Okay, but on one condition.” They both looked like they were readying themselves for the worst-case scenario and you giggled. “Minho has to tell me what he did to get into this class.”

Jisung widened his eyes and looked at his boyfriend who seemed as cool as a cucumber. “Deal.” He said confidently and a smile instantly spread across your face. “But only after we get to the restaurant.”

You nodded your head once and stuck out your hand. “Deal.” He looked at your hand tentatively and slowly raised his hand to give you a light shake. His skin felt like a million degrees and you felt a shiver itching to course through your bones, but you remained vigilant in hiding just how much that small touch affected you.

When Minho dropped your hand, Jisung reached out and squeezed your shoulder. “See you later, then, gorgeous.” He quickly shot you a wink and then the pair walked back to their car, hand-in-hand.

“Seungmin, whatever you’re going to say, I would highly advise against it.” You grumbled as you got in the car to be faced with his shit-eating grin.

You narrowed your eyes into slits at his smug smile as he started the car. “Whatever do you mean? I surely wasn’t going to say anything about your intense closeness to those two attractive men and how much you were blushing like a lovesick teenager. I would never!” His voice rang sarcastically.

You felt your blush deepen, but rather than retorting back, you settled for punching his arm and pouting as he laughed at you the entire way back home.

__________________________________________

You anxiously looked at yourself in the mirror and felt stupid. You shouldn’t really care what they thought… They were gay! And taken! And it shouldn’t even matter what you wore! But…

You assessed your wardrobe and couldn’t help but think of what these two extremely attractive men would find most appealing. You decided to wear a short blood-red, tight-fit dress with a low cut that made your boobs look amazing if you do say so yourself. You wore thigh-high black steletto boots and topped it off with a cozy-looking black sweater/cardigan that hung down past the length of your dress so you could appear somewhat modest.

“Well someone’s looking quite spicy tonight. Where are you headed?” Seungmin said with amusement buzzing in his lungs from the door frame to your room.

You just smiled smugly at him. “Your mom’s house, apparently she’s into women now.” You winked at him and you saw him roll his eyes exaggeratingly before turning back to the mirror.

“Well, I’m gonna spend the night at Jeongin’s place tonight so you can have the place to yourself and… whatever poor soul you’re going to be tormenting tonight.” You quickly turned and threw one of your makeup brushes at him before he scampered out of the room with a cute giggle.

You were just putting on the final touches of your makeup when you heard the doorbell ring. You whipped your head around and saw Seungmin in the hallway giving you that same Cheshire smile before he walked off to answer the door.

Shit.

You grabbed your purse and chased after him to stop the impending disaster, but it was too late… “Oh shit! I’m sorry, I must have the wrong apartment!” Jisung said as he leaned back to look at the door number while Minho stared speculatively at Seungmin.

“No no no! You have the right one! Coming!” Your mouth poured out before you brushed past Seungmin and out the door to join the two men with flabbergasted faces who were shamelessly checking you out. Odd… “Later Seung!” You shot behind you to your roommate before dragging Minho and Jisung outside by their arms.

“Woah woah woah! Slow it down, why don’t you?” Minho said, pulling his hand out of your grasp once you were out of the building. You stopped and turned around to look at him challengingly, but your mindset screeched to a halt when you looked at the pair standing side by side.

They were drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, they had god-like beauty on an average day but now? Now they had outdone themselves.

Jisung had on a neat, white button-up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows to show off his toned forearms. His baggy jeans were of a designer brand and his hair was styled off his face to show ce his impeccable skin in full force.

Minho, on the other hand, was wearing a black, knit sweater with a deep V cut that was outlined with gaps in the knitting that showed off his impeccable pecs. His black pants were super tight fit and your eyes widened when you saw the size of his muscular thighs. His hair was slightly wavy and disheveled which gave him an even sexier demeanor.

Both of them had a dusting of makeup and you couldn’t help but blatantly run your eyes over the entirety of them. Thankfully, neither of them noticed because they were also wearing similar expressions as their gaze roved over your body.

You swallowed thickly and decided to break the silence. “You… You guys clean up nice…” You cursed yourself for sounding so breathless.

Jisung blinked rapidly as if he was dropped back into reality and he cleared his throat. “Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself?! You’re absolutely gorgeous! Minnie, look at her!” He said as he swatted his boyfriend’s arm.

“Oh trust me, I’m looking…” Minho said so low you almost missed it. Watching him look at you with fire in his eyes made your insides turn. When he seemed to shake himself out of his stupor, he also cleared his throat and looked away. Bright red quickly coated his face and neck. “I-I mean, yeah. You look… different…” He rubbed his neck and side-eyed you. Before you could react, he spoke up once more. “That guy looks like the guy who picks you up from class. And his nose didn’t look broken... You get a new boyfriend?”

They both looked apprehensive and it took you a moment to realize who he was referring to. “What? Seungmin? No no no no!” You gave a nervous chuckle and averted your eyes from their piercing gaze. “No… ahem– No, Seungmin’s just a friend who let me live with him after my breakup. I’m–” You cut yourself off, not knowing if it was pertinent information to share, but their waiting faces led you to continue. “I’m still single…” You murmured with an awkward chuckle, cheeks most likely a tad bit rosy.

Jisung’s bright smile eased the tension in the air. “Very interesting…” He lilted with a half-smirk that looked unbelievingly sexy. What the hell was that supposed to mean?! He puffed out a big sigh and looped his arm around Minho’s bicep, to which the elder responded by placing his free hand on the one the younger had wrapped around his arm. “So, beautiful, where are we taking you tonight? Club? Five-star restaurant? The moon?”

You giggled and rolled your eyes and you saw the corners of Minho’s lips slightly lift up. “Get in and I’ll give you directions.” You said, strutting past them and waiting patiently by the car as they curiously followed you.

__________________________________________

“Really? Out of all the places you could have chosen, you take us to the bar Hannie performs at?” Minho asked with a raised brow as the three of you sat side-by-side at the bar. For some reason, instead of sitting together, they sat on either side of you. Maybe it was in case you tried to bail… You chuckled as you thought to yourself.

“Well, yeah. It’s cheap, the drinks are good, the vibe is chill, and the food doesn’t taste half bad.” You shrugged your shoulders as the bartender walked up and took your orders, not even batting an eye that you were going to be eating at the bar seating as opposed to the booths. “Plus, I have good memories here…” You smiled to yourself, remembering the time you were scared shitless when you performed publicly for the first time.

“Why’s that, sweetheart? Because this is where you first met me?” Jisung said with a wry smile and sultry voice that made you melt. He leaned in close to tease you and you were dizzy just from the smell of him.

You swatted his arm and laughed. “No! This is where I first performed live! I was a complete trainwreck and I’m pretty sure my guitar was out of tune, but it was the best day of my life.” You said wistfully with a sigh as you turned around in your seat to look at the musicians casually performing on the little stage in the corner of the room.

“I feel left out! I haven’t seen you play!” Minho whined while nudging your arm, the other two men turning around on the bar stools to watch your fellow bar patrons as well.

Jisung leaned forward to smirk at his boyfriend. “Awww is Minnie jealous?” He cooed while wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You stiffened and all of your senses honed in on the direct contact between you two.

Minho huffed. “As if.” He looked smug as he crossed his arms and looked straight again to declare confidently. “I hang out with her way more often than you do, jagi.”

“I would hardly count us bickering all morning twice a week as ‘hanging out’, Minho.” You challenged with a raised brow.

“Yeah, but it’s so much fun. It’s my favorite part of the week!” He said with an evil sneer as he leaned close to you.

You tried to not show how much his proximity was affecting you, but it was extremely difficult. “Oh joy. I feel so very honored. You just thrive on watching me squirm, don’t you?” You scoffed as you turned to look at him haughtily.

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it, princess…” He murmured in a sultry tone that made your eyes widen and your ears turn bright red. You felt the arm around your shoulder tighten as you watched Minho bite his lip and lean even closer with an evil grin.

You didn’t know why, but the air was thick with tension and you were almost hyperventilating with the closeness of the boys around you.

“Here you guys go! Let me know when you’re ready for more drinks!” You completely jumped out of your skin when the bartender spoke up behind you, causing the boys to laugh as they turned back around to eat.

These boys are not good for my heart…

__________________________________________

Once the three of you finished your food, you ended up staying for hours just talking about shit-all and you found yourself loosening up more and more. Which you were sure the drinks contributed to.

You were all laughing and playfully bickering as the three of you walked to the car. However, all of a sudden, one particular thought was automatically snapped into place in your brain and you screeched to a halt in your tracks. “Oh my gosh! I totally forgot!” The boys turned to look at you with confusion etched into their features as you all stood by the car.

You suddenly marched up to Minho and, in your slightly inebriated mindset, you thought it would be a good idea to move your face a mere few inches away from his own unsuspecting one.

“You, mister, have to tell me why you’re in anger management with me!” You huffed as you placed your index finger smack-dab in the middle of his chest to drive the point home.

You felt his warm breath blow across your lips as he exhaled a shaky sigh. “I… I…” His eyes were rapidly blinking and he seemed to be at a loss for words as he struggled to form any sort of sound from his open mouth.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of hands grasp your shoulders and a hot breeze tickled your ear. “How about…” You felt Jisung pull you a bit closer and his lips were dangerously close to your neck. “...we discuss it when we get back to your place, yeah?”

You let out your own shaky breath and you held back your trembling when you saw pure, carnal desire painted across Minho’s face. Jisung’s surely going to be destroyed tonight when they get home…

The thought actually did make you shiver this time and you felt the arms around you squeeze your shoulders slightly. “Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” Jisung whispered in your ear and you could only bring yourself to dumbly nod in compliance just to be led to the car by the hand.

The drive was very tense for some reason and you didn’t know why these men were affecting you so much! They’re gay. They are boyfriends. Don’t have these useless thoughts about them… You told yourself as you subconsciously squeezed your thighs together.

“Um…” You muttered as you stood outside your apartment door, both of the boys looking at you as if they were waiting for something. You picked your gaze up from the ground to look at them and you saw Minho looking straight past you and into the open door of your apartment.

You were about to do a very stupid thing.

“S-Seungmin’s not home… in case you were wondering…” You watched Minho look back at you with a raised brow before he turned his eyes to look into your apartment again, Jisung watching him with crossed arms and an amused smirk. “Um…” You sputtered again. “Would you guys like to come in?”

Jisung shot you a dashing smile and you had to bite back your smile. “I thought you’d never ask!”

After more alcoholic beverages were served (because you definitely needed it to get through the night) and you were all settled on the couch, the two men sat on either side of you again. Were these motherfuckers trying to kill you?!

Minho cleared his throat before he broached the impending topic. “Sooo… about class…” You whipped your head to look at his sheepish expression and fully faced him in eagerness to hear him out. “I might have possibly hospitalized one of Jisung’s exes…”

“WHAT?!” You exclaimed with eyes as wide as saucers. “What the fuck do you mean you hospitalized him?!” You were sure the apparent shock was written all over your features and you felt a gentle hand plant itself on your knee from the other side of you.

“No no no, it’s nothing that serious.” Han peered around you to scowl at his boyfriend. “You see hyung? This is why people are scared of you!” He did have a point, Minho was terribly frightening when he wanted to be… Jisung looked back at you and rubbed his thumb over the bare skin of your leg. “The bastard was stalking me and, when I got off work one day, he cornered me and tried to…” Jisung closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself. “He tried to… force himself on me…”

You hadn’t even realized you had put a hand over your mouth in bewilderment until Minho quickly placed his hand over the one Jisung had on your leg and you don’t think you had ever seen Minho look so… soft. “It’s okay, jagi… you don’t have to talk about it…” Jisung offered him a sad smile and solemnly nodded. Without a word, you froze when Minho retreated his hand from Jisung’s and, instead, placed it on your other knee. All of your senses and nerves were focused on their touch and you felt like you couldn’t see or hear anything else around you.

WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK ARE THESE FUCKING HUNK GODS FUCKING DOING TO YOU WITH THEIR WARM HANDS AND BEAUTIFUL FACES AND SEXY-ASS BODIES THAT MADE YOU WANT TO JUMP ON THEM AND DEVOUR THEM WHOLE?! You were surely going to die that night.

You hoped and prayed that they didn’t notice your furious blushing. “Anyway, luckily, I found him before anything happened, and I…” Minho glanced at you tentatively. “I may have broken his leg…” Your eyes widened. “And, uh, his arm too?” He bit his lip before continuing. “And I maybe also cracked one or two of his ribs…” You leaned back toward Jisung and they both squeezed each of your knees simultaneously.

“Wh-what?!” He offered a somewhat complacent smile and Jisung spoke up.

“You were incredibly lucky he didn’t press charges…” He muttered.

“Yeah well, considering the fact I would have sold him out as a rapist, I’d say he got off pretty easy…” Minho said, directing an annoyed huff off to the side.

“So he’s still out there?!” Minho scowled at your outburst and, instead of pulling away, he firmly squeezed your knee.

“What? Would you prefer I have a felony on my record?” He spat.

“Minnie–”

“No–!” Minho cut Jisung’s unspoken words short and glared at you once more. “News flash princess, he would have been released to the public either way!” He argued with a raised voice.

You scowled and spat right back at him. “Well, he should have had some sort of legal reprimanding!”

His grip on your knee was almost painfully tight and you ignored the stirring in your core that it caused. He leaned toward you with a lethally calm voice. “You little–”

“Oh my GOD! Just kiss already!” Jisung yelled from your other side and restlessly slid his hand just marginally higher up on your leg.

His outburst brought you crashing back down to earth with incredible velocity and you quickly realized the position you were in. Minho, who wore the same furious expression as you, had slid his hand up as well, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. You and him had also been bringing your faces closer and closer in your fit of rage and he was only a mere few inches from your face.

Before your scowl could morph into a stupid state of astonishment, you instantly felt Minho’s hand grab the base of your neck. You found yourself being roughly turned away from him and immediately pushed towards his boyfriend. He then proceeded to smash your faces together and, as if Jisung was already anticipating it, he instantly cupped your face and slammed his lips against yours. All the while, their other hands never left your legs.

Once your lips touched down on his pouty lips, your body wasn’t your own anymore. You gasped into his mouth and then felt some sort of beast come alive in you, one that was solely fueled by your still-burning rage.

You let loose. Your arms looped around his neck and, when you felt his tongue peek out to tangle with yours, you arched your back from where you were pinned to the couch by their strong hands. A deep moan vibrated in your vocal cords when you felt Jisung’s hand slowly gravitate up your thigh.

That was when you were redirected once more.

Jisung’s other hand was strong but gentle as he switched from cupping your cheek to grabbing your jaw and quickly turning your head to push you towards Minho once more. You gasped again as you got a brief glimpse of Minho’s (sexy as fuck) furiously ravenous face before you were now connected to his lips.

Your hands automatically flew to his hair and you took your anger out on his beautiful brown locks. The tugging and abuse of the hair between your fingers earned a delicious growl from in between his lips and you took advantage of that to lick into his mouth. When you felt his bruising grip drift to the inside of your thigh, you took it upon yourself to clumsily rid your body of the quickly overwhelming heat of your sweater.

When you felt Jisung’s hand rub up and down your inner thigh, you pulled Minho away by his hair and turned back to Jisung. He was more than happy to lock lips with you, but it seemed like Minho wasn’t done with you as you felt him bite down hard on the base of your neck. You threw your head back against the couch as you cried out.

“You’re a fucking brat, aren’t you?” Minho hissed as he attached his lips to your neck and began biting and sucking every inch he could get his mouth on.

“A goddamned delicious brat…” Jisung added huskily as his tongue traced its way across your clavicle. You were in heaven and hell at the same time and you felt like, if you weren’t fucked right this instant, you would surely die.

One particularly hard bite from Minho had your hips bucking into the air and their hands were eager to make the journey underneath your dress. Your drenched panties were quickly rendered useless as the men desperately tore them off of you. On one side, Minho ran his finger through your dripping folds to begin furiously playing with your clit. On the other hand, Jisung made the plunge and sunk a finger inside you, making you cry out once more.

You were thrashing in their grip, Jisung with his unoccupied arm around your waist, and Minho with his firm grip on your hair.

You were so close to your peak that you could almost cry from the amount of pleasure. However, when Minho and Jisung looked at each other with that same intense passion, desperately connecting lips and tongues while continuing to pleasure you, that sealed the deal. You came so hard that you were almost dizzy from it and the men separated to revel in the sight of your orgasm. “That’s it, shake for us, baby,” Jisung murmured as he kissed the swell of your breast that peeked out of your dress.

“How pathetic. Couldn’t even hold out to cum on our cocks.” Minho challenged and you stared daggers at him.

Without further notice, you tore yourself from them and straddled Minho, pinning his arms to the couch and directing your seething face at him. “Oh, you have no idea how many times I can cum, princess. But it all depends if your useless cocks are able to get the job done.” He gave you a bone-chilling sneer in response to your challenge, but before he could respond, you grabbed Jisung by his shirt collar and yanked him over to join you where you straddled his boyfriend.

You made a show of licking up the column of his neck as he groaned and then you moved to whisper against his lips. “Want to show him how it’s done, Ji?” He smiled against your lips and murmured.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” He grabbed your hand and Minho watched in amazement as you hastily dragged his boyfriend to your bedroom.

You then proceeded to lift Jisung and throw him on the bed, quickly straddling him as the pair stared at you in amazement of your strength. “Hot damn, girl! You’re strong as hell!” Minho said with astonishment in his voice.

“Shit, that’s hot as fuck…” Jisung mumbled before he grabbed your neck and pulled you down to crush your lips against his. You couldn’t control the whimper that escaped your lips when he rolled his clothed erection against your glistening cunt.

You whined against his lips and spoke between rushed kisses. “Sungie… need you…” Your declaration snapped Minho into action and he rushed to your side.

“Condoms?” He said, sounding slightly breathless as he palmed himself.

“Drawer.” You signaled with your head towards your nightstand and he quickly returned with the two rubbers. You were eternally grateful to yourself for keeping them ‘just in case’ anything were to happen after your breakup.

They took a moment to ogle you when you stripped yourself of your dress and displayed the lean muscles that were usually hidden behind your clothes.

“Fuck…” They both breathed in tandem and you internally patted yourself on the back for staying fit and muscular. Especially if you earned those kinds of reactions.

Your impatience showed as you tore off your bra, the last article of clothing on you due to your panties already being in tatters somewhere on the living room carpet. You had barely even discarded the item before two sets of lips were on each nipple. You, once again, threw your head back and ground down against the man below you.

He released your nipple with a deep groan and you used the opportunity to claw at his shirt to rid him of it. You gave up once he took over and, instead, focused your efforts on freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. You shimmied off of him so he could quickly yank off his jeans and boxers and your eyes went as wide as saucers.

Shit, this boy is PACKING.

He used your ogling to his advantage and he pushed you on your back, hovering over you with a smirk as he lazily stroked his cock. “Just sit back and enjoy, sweetheart. We’ve got all night…”

THANK GOD.

He slid on the rubber and was about to start fingering you before you halted his movements. “Please, Jisung. I need you now!”

He looked at you apprehensively, fingers lazily circling your inner thigh. “Baby, I don’t want to hurt you…”

You roughly pulled him down so he was a hair’s breadth away from your mouth. “Angel, I love the stretch. Do your worst.” You saw a darkness in his eyes that you had yet to see and he leaned back to position himself as he looked down at where you two connected.

He looked back up at you with his gaze ablaze and he watched your face as he slammed his cock inside you with a force that took you by surprise.

You almost choked on the gasp you produced and your vision was blinded with a white light for a moment. You saw the muscles in his strong chest and abdomen contract and relax in between kisses as he started to plow into you with labored breaths.

“Fuck, yes! Show him, Ji…” You crooned and Jisung gave you a wicked smile before he processed your words. However, he instantly cowered when Minho stood on your bed to loom over the younger boy, clothes completely discarded.

“Hyung…” Jisung groaned as his thrusts continued at a steady pace.

Minho only responded with hooded lids and a domineering expression as he held his (otherworldly beautiful) cock up to Jisung’s spit-slick lips. “Go ahead, Hannie baby. Show me how it’s done.” His voice was deadly calm and there was a hidden threat underlying his words that made Jisung instantly respond.

You had to give it to him, you were impressed.

Jisung’s hips never faltered or slowed down as he gulped down his boyfriend’s (also unreasonably large) cock. Minho hissed between his teeth at the much-needed stimulation and he turned his head to you with a cocky grin.

Still looking at you, he began petting Jisung’s disheveled hair. “That’s a good boy…” He said glancing lovingly down at his lover before looking back at you. “See? Even while making you squirm, my baby boy knows who properly wrecks him.” He bit his lip and continued to revel in the enigma that was Han Jisung and his multitasking expertise.

When you heard a faint gag come from the younger’s mouth, you saw Minho lose his composure for a split second before grabbing the boy’s hair and freeing himself from the wet heat that surrounded him. Jisung whined, but only grasped your hips harder, shoving himself deeper and bringing you closer and closer.

“You’re too good at that baby…” Minho spoke in a sultry tone as he finally knelt down on the mattress as well. He kept his hand rooted in the younger's hair as he brought two of his fingers to Jisung’s mouth. “Get them nice and wet for me, love?” Jisung nodded eagerly and quickly slathered the digits with his saliva, sucking, licking, and slobbering on them until they were dripping. Once Minho deemed the job properly done, he pulled back his hand and gave his boyfriend a light peck before whispering against his lips. “Now ruin that cunt of hers so I can properly fuck the bitchiness out of her. Yeah?”

Jisung exhaled a slight chuckle before turning back to you with a smirk. “Oh you’re in for it now, honey…” When Minho finally released him, the beautiful, round-faced sweetheart turned into an insatiable demon. You braced yourself when his beautiful hands grabbed your ankles and stretched them all the way up over your head, properly folding you in half.

You had no clue how he managed to do it, but every single thrust after that nailed you right in the center of your g-spot and you threw your head back with a loud cry.

You soon found out what Minho planned to do with those soaked fingers of his when he moved to crouch at your side on the mattress. He smirked evilly as he held those same fingers up to your mouth. “Your turn, princess. Soak me.”

You were desperate to hold back your moans as you willed yourself to glare up at him. However, it sounded more like a whine when you spoke. “Make me…”

You could say you were a bit regretful of those words when his face morphed into a searing scowl. Without saying a word, he calmly brought his fingers to your face and turned to Jisung. “You know what to do, Hannie…”

The amused smile that bloomed on Jisung’s face quickly morphed into a sadistic one as he looked back at you. All simultaneously, Minho plunged his face in your cunt and quickly started making out with your clit at the same time Jisung decided to angle deeper and intentionally crushed your cervix. The resulting scream that emanated from you allowed Minho to plunge his awaiting fingers in your mouth and you began eagerly slobbering all over them, tasting Jisung’s remaining saliva in the process.

Eventually, you could no longer tend to his fingers as an earth shattering orgasm washed over you, causing you to scream and soak both Jisung and Minho in tandem.

You had just come down from your high when you felt Jisung halt all movement inside you. When the haze cleared from your eyes and you lifted your head to assess the situation, your jaw dropped.

Minho was positioned behind Jisung with one hand around his neck and the other was pumping his spit-slick fingers in his ass. Jisung looked as if he was in so much pleasure that all other functions of his body were rendered useless. “Such a good boy, letting her cum on your cock like that. So fucking sexy…” Minho murmured in his lover’s ear as you watched the hand around his neck alternate between loosening and contracting.

Jisung whimpered and you scowled at the man behind him who shot you a triumphant smirk over Jisung’s strong shoulder.

You huffed and slunk out from underneath Jisung who’s limbs had gone slack in pleasure. You proceeded to lunge at Minho and pin him down against your destroyed sheets. You felt a hint of pride when you were able to overpower him and keep him in place.

“You think you’re pretty slick, huh? Taking Ji away from me like that?” You seethed just inches from his stupidly beautiful smug face.

“Oh, I don’t think I am, princess. I know I am.” He mused.

You huffed and spoke over your shoulder to the dazed man behind you. “Jisung, baby, would you please wrap up this man’s worthless dick so I can make him fall apart under me, please?” You fluttered your eyelashes at the younger man and he eagerly complied, kissing your neck as he, too, straddled Minho to roll the condom on him.

With you hovering over Minho’s cock, Jisung facing you from where he straddled his boyfriend’s torso, and Minho with his hands fondling Jisung’s ass, the three of you acted simultaneously.

You slowly sank down on the hot, twitching appendage and Minho groaned, roughly sinking his fingers into the flesh of Jisung’s ass cheeks and spreading them apart. The latter breathed in a surprised gasp and you watched in awe as Minho wrapped his arms around the younger’s thighs to sit him back on top of the man’s face.

Jisung cried out as you heard the sloppy noises of Minho going to town on his eager hole. All the while, you were still adjusting to Minho’s size. They were pretty similar in size, but it was still a lot to handle and you were more than a little breathless when you started bouncing on his cock, your hands roaming over his toned abdomen in the process.

Your eyes, when the overwhelming fog of lust cleared, locked onto the other man that was riding the man beneath the two of you. Jisung had a blazing fire in his eyes that bore into your soul and you didn’t even think twice before pulling him in for a searing kiss.

With your lips attached, you both continued to grind on the man below you while Minho alternated his groping between Jisung’s plump ass cheeks and your own. Minho was growling and moaning against his hole as he bucked up into you and you whimpered when Jisung brought his hands up to play with your waiting breasts.

However, Jisung seemed to have the air knocked out of him when you slipped off his now-pointless condom and started expertly pumping his cock with your eager hand. “O-oh fuck…” He muttered against your lips and you smiled up at him.

“Will you cum on my face, Jisungie? Please?” You heard both of them loudly moan at that and you leaned down to get as close to his dick that you were able to and began using all of your focus to properly jack this beautiful man off.

You knew he was close when his legs started shaking underneath him and you heard a cry fall from his lips when you managed to get close enough to give a small kitten-lick to his tip. Cum instantly sputtered all over your face and lips and you lapped up everything that your tongue could catch.

Both you and Minho laid the completely spent boy down next to you on the bed before Minho grabbed you behind the neck and growled against your lips. “We. Aren’t. Done. Yet.” You gasped when he licked up a long string of cum off your face and smirked at your slackened jaw. “Fuck!” He yelled as he grasped your hips and thrusted up into you as he slammed you down on his cock. “You look so goddamned sexy with Hannie’s load all over your face…”

He pulled you down to, once again, clean up your face with his tongue and then furiously kissed you as he fucked up into your abused hole. You couldn’t have cared less that that same tongue was up Jisung’s asshole just moments before, not with the way he was making you feel. You whimpered into his mouth with every thrust and it wasn’t until you screamed their names as you came that he emptied himself into the condom as well.

He rode you through your orgasms before you rolled over and collapsed next to Jisung who seemed to be lost in a daze as he watched you two finish.

Heavy breathing was the only thing that was heard and three palpitating chests were the only things that moved as you came back to reality and realized what the fuck just happened.

Holy christ on a cracker…

Your breathing began morphing into breathless laughter which then turned into full on cackling as you felt two sets of eyes fixed on you. Once your giggles died down and you wiped the resulting tears from your eyes, you threw your head back with an amused lilt to your voice. “What the hell just happened?”

You heard chuckling from both sides of you in response and they both sat up to look down at you. “Are you doing okay there, beautiful?” Jisung laughed with a smile on his face as he wiped what was presumably jizz out of your hair. You nodded with an equally bright face up at him and you looked over to see that Minho was tonguing his cheek with an amused grin.

You narrowed your eyes at him, preparing yourself for whatever snark was about to fall from his lips, but his face slowly softened. “So, uh, does this mean you forgive me for what I said?”

You tried desperately to suck in your smile, but you were pretty sure you failed miserably. You had completely forgotten that’s what tonight was supposed to be all about and you could almost laugh at yourself with how quickly you let your guard down around them. You liked them. And not just for their dicks or god tier good looks, but you found that, in only a short amount of time, these were pretty cool guys.

Maybe that’s why you were feeling the way you felt…

You made a show of appearing as if you were deliberating your response, but you knew you had already forgiven him as soon as you saw him that morning. But he didn’t need to know that…

“Hmmm… I suppose I can look past your assholery if you two clean up this mess you’ve created.” You smirked at them and they immediately got to work.

The night ended with both of them slowly cleaning you up with wet towels, only briefly interrupted by their wandering hands and kisses, before they quickly changed your sheets. You climbed into bed naked and they just stood at the end of your bed looking a bit sheepish.

You rolled your eyes at them, finding it amusing that, out of everything that had happened that night, this was the part they were awkward about.

“Well?” You said with a raised brow. “We don’t have all night for you two to just stand there! Get in!” You said lifting the covers. “Unless you prefer traveling all the way home at this time of night?”

They looked at each other and Jisung looked back at you with a gleeful smile before hopping straight in, immediately cuddling up to your side and nuzzling his face in your neck. Minho, on the other hand, crossed his arms and raised a brow. “What are the chances I get my face smashed in with a guitar?”

Again, you bit back your amused smile and pondered. “Hmmm slim to none.” You declared with a nod.

“Oh just get in here, Minnie! It’s the least you could do for causing all of this!” Jisung said with a cute, child-like whine.

Minho’s face surrendered an endearing smile at his boyfriend and offered a sarcastic eye-roll before trudging over to the bed. He hesitated for a moment, but ultimately decided to take the spot on the other side of you, causing you to be squished by the men.

You melted when they both wrapped their arms around you and it wasn’t long before you were out like a light.

__________________________________________

You had only begun realizing how brazen you were being when you caught Seungmin glancing at you for the fourth time while he was driving you to class. Jisung had given Minho your phone number and Minho immediately created a group chat. However, you instantly regretted it once they began teasing you NON-STOP throughout the week.

Between Jisung’s innuendos and Minho’s provocative threats, you couldn’t get a moment’s peace from your blushing face and moist undergarments. That being said, you considered it a bit of payback to dress the way you had for the following class you had with the infuriating man.

Seungmin probably thought you hadn’t noticed his ogling, but he was honestly shit at being subtle. It was in the middle of autumn, but you disregarded this as you chose your outfit that morning.

You had worn some black thigh-high stockings with cute boots, but you were freezing in the rest of your outfit. Honestly it wasn’t TOO provocative, but it was also unlike your usual attire… Just like your last outfit when you were with them…

Your burnt-orange colored skirt came up to your waist so your black crop top only showed a sliver of your midriff. Plus, you had a cozy green sweater to keep you warm so… you looked normal right? Most girls wear barely anything and don’t bat an eyelash about it either.

But, it’s true that you usually wore a t-shirt and jeans sooo…

You were kind of nervous when Seungmin pulled up to the building and gave you a knowing smirk. “Have fun.” He lilted with an amused tone. You just narrowed your eyes at him in response and wordlessly stepped out of the car.

You didn’t know whether you wanted Minho to get there before or after you, but fate had apparently decided to fuck with you that day because, as you were walking to the front door, you witnessed Jisung kissing his boyfriend goodbye. You froze when you saw them, but their eyes immediately snapped to you when they separated.

You had to will yourself to move forward, but they made it difficult when their eyes widened and then simultaneously turned predatory once you began nearing them.

“It seems fate has a sense of humor, I never get here at the same time as you.” You mused as you stopped in front of them.

Jisung remained staring at you like you were his next meal, but Minho took a step closer to you and gave you a crooked smile. “Yeah, funny. You usually get here way later. Tell me, did something make you a bit eager to get here today? Hm?” His voice was a teasing melody as he cocked his head to the side with an evil smile.

Before you could even answer, Jisung also stepped closer and looked down at you menacingly. “I can’t imagine it would have been a quick process to look the way you do today. Did you have plans later on?” He mimicked Minho’s smile and you forced yourself to look blasé.

You scoffed and held your chin high. “Does it matter? Maybe I just wanted to put in an extra bit of effort today… there doesn’t have to be any particular reason…”

“I think there is, sweet thing…” Jisung’s eyes trailed down where he caressed your arm and you shivered from the touch.

You narrowed your eyes at Minho as he clicked his tongue. “Psh, sweet? The only sweet thing about her is…” He gave you a once over and tongued the corner of his mouth with a sly grin. “…the way she tastes…” You blushed furiously and quickly checked your surroundings to make sure there weren’t any prying ears.

You shoved his arm as the pair cackled and then wrapped your arms around yourself in your intense bashfulness.

Jisung immediately grabbed your hands to unravel you. “Oh don’t be shy darling. Besides, Minho has been non-stop talking to me about your tight, pretty little cu—“

“OKAY WELL SEE YOU LATER JISUNG!” You shouted as you quickly ran inside, their cackling fading behind you.

The first half of class was torture. You and Minho had gotten used to sitting across from each other in the circle and it remained that way. First, it was because you despised each other, now, it was so he could maintain eye contact with you to drive you crazy.

He was making threatening sex eyes at you the entire time as he kept ogling your body as if you were a whole goddamn snack. He was manspread the entire time, of course, and you weren’t able to force your way out of this one, your eyes were glued to him.

You lost track of time of how many times you licked your lips at the memory of last week and you smashed your legs together from the aching between your thighs. When it was break time, you bolted to get outside as soon as possible. Not to smoke this time, but to have some privacy.

Just as you expected, Minho was not far behind you as he strutted up to your normal spot on the side of the building. “Not smoking this time?”

You shook your head as you faced him. “Nah, I decided to quit again. Apparently they’re bad for you.” You said nonchalantly as you shrugged.

“You don’t say?” He mused sarcastically. “Well that’s a relief, you look so much better without that stick in your mouth.” You sputtered a laugh as you felt that had a double meaning. He caught on quickly and he flashed a grin. “However, as for other kinds of sticks…”

He left his sentence hanging as he stepped closer to you, causing your heart to beat out of your chest. His eyes didn’t leave yours as he brushed your hair off the side of your neck. He DID, however, look away when he leaned in and whispered with his lips grazing your ear.

“Jisungie thought it would be a good idea to remind you of our time together last week.” You sucked in a breath when his hand wrapped around you underneath your sweater and snuck up the back of your crop top to splay his hand over the bare skin there. He placed a gentle kiss on your jaw and breathed into your ear again. “But I’m sure you’ve had it on your mind as much as we have.”

You shivered when you felt his other hand slide down your thigh to play with the hem of your skirt. You turned your head to speak a hair's breadth away from his lips. “I have no clue what you’re talking about. All I know is that some jackass has been eye-fucking me all morning.”

You gasped when he abruptly pressed you against the wall with his body, his eyes burning holes through you with the fury in his gaze. You felt his hand sneak up underneath your skirt and played with the edge of your panties, drawing out an embarrassing whine from you. “Would you rather have another form of fucking?”

You took a small glance at your surroundings to make sure the coast was clear and snaked your hand between your bodies and cupped his groin, earning a stifled groan through his bitten lip. “I know what you would rather have…” He pursed his lips in frustration and your body acted before your brain did.

You abruptly dragged the man around the corner out of sight of potential onlookers and smashed your lips against his, proceeding to press against his growing bulge, feeling his surprised gasp against your face. You whimpered when his hand plunged underneath your panties and delicately ran his fingers through your sopping folds. Your leg automatically wrapped around him to bring him closer and he didn’t beat around the bush. He SHOVED two fingers inside you and began to furiously finger-fuck you as your hands fumbled with the button on his jeans.

“Fuck, you’d be ruined if I had a condom on me right now…” He growled against your lips before moving to devour your neck.

You finally managed to wiggle your hand in his pants to get ahold of his cock to begin stroking it. “Shit who said we needed a condom? I’m clean and have a birth control implant. Unless you and Ji have any problems…”

His entire body froze against you and he retrieved his head from the crook of your neck to look at you with black, dilated eyes. He took a moment before he completely released you and completely freed his cock from his jeans, positioning himself in front of you to lift you up and wrap your legs around his waist.

You let out a surprised moan when he, without any further notice, moved your panties to the side and started viciously fucking you. “Fuck! Why’d you have to say that?”

Your arms frantically wrapped around his neck to claw at his back as you buried your face in his neck. “Shit…” You breathed. “F-fuck, we’re g-going to be l-late for class!” You were already nearing your peak from his ministrations with his fingers earlier, but the way he filled you up so deliciously had you shaking and whimpering for release.

“Fuck baby, I don’t need long… Just imagine I was fucking you into Hannie rather than this stupid wall…” As he said this, his thrusts sped up and his power increased tenfold. Just the thought of Jisung going at it from behind sent you over the edge and you shook thoroughly as you tried to keep your resulting cry of pleasure to the minimum as to not alert the surrounding area.

Your flooding of his rock hard dick made him violently twitch and soon you felt immense heat filling you to the brim. His feral grunt was almost sexy enough to make you cum again, but he quickly pulled out and moved your panties over to contain most of his seed.

Without further ado, he grabbed your hand and dragged you back to class while you used your other hand to fix yourself up to hopefully not look like you just got dicked down.

__________________________________________

Next week was Minho’s final day in class and they wanted to throw a party at their place which you, of course, readily accepted. In the meantime, those men tortured you. You didn’t have the time to see them, but they made sure to keep you interested. Their texts, calls, and video calls always had you blushing (even though you would never admit it) and halfway through the week, they decided to “surprise” you.

You were just going to bed after a long day of work and you had just finished showering before climbing into bed. You had a habit of going to sleep naked due to the fact you hated your skin feeling restricted as you slept.

However, when you saw you were receiving a video call from the infamous men, you panicked. You turned on your bedside lamp and shoved yourself deep under the covers, but you answered with the camera facing the ceiling anyway.

“How am I not surprised you guys would call right as I climbed in bed?” You spoke into your phone over the speaker, camera still showing nothing but your ceiling fan.

The men were smiling when you answered, but when they saw your end of the screen, they frowned in confusion. “Why can’t we see your face?” Minho said with an aggressive complaint.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his raised voice, so you did what you always did to Minho, argued back at him. “Why do you need to see my face? It’s not like I’m the one who decided to video call!” You noticed that they were laying in bed and neither of them had a shirt on. Your mouth watered at the sight of them. Man, I’m a desperate bitch…

Minho was about to fight back, but Jisung cut in. “We video called because we wanted to see our favorite girl! We miss you, gorgeous!” Your heart warmed and you held back the giddiness that flowed through your veins.

“Well I’m not so sure about the gorgeous part. There’s a reason I’m not showing my face.” They both looked perplexed and you sighed. “I just showered and I don’t have any makeup on and I look like a wet rat with my hair still damp.”

Both of them went silent and you saw their faces simultaneously turn feral. Minho suddenly brought the phone closer. “Show your goddamn face right the fuck now.”

You shivered at his tone and you peeked at his face once again to witness the predatory expression taking over his beautiful face. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes to compose yourself and then stared at the phone. “Why should I?” You said in a defiant tone.

Jisung laughed incredulously and looked at his boyfriend. “You weren’t kidding, she is a stubborn one.”

Minho smirked and licked his lips. “Because if you don’t, we are coming over ourselves and I will pound on the door loud enough to wake any and every neighbor on your entire block.” He grumbled in a low, threatening tone.

“Trust me, baby. He will absolutely do it.” Jisung said as he held the camera in its original position.

You cringed at the thought and you, indeed expected he would follow up on that threat.

You sighed and tentatively grabbed your phone and scooted a bit under the covers in hopes they couldn’t see much but, unfortunately, you had to use a hand to hold your phone up, showing your bare shoulder and collarbone. Once you tried to fix your hair (unsuccessfully), you brought your camera into focus on your face, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

You didn’t necessarily have self-confidence issues, you just felt exposed and foreign in this state when people see you like this.

You braced yourself for their reactions, but you couldn’t prepare enough to see them sit up in excitement. Jisung spoke first. “My god, you’re so gorgeous…”

“Why the fuck would you hide this?”

“Why do you even wear makeup?”

“Fuck, I want us to wreck you so bad right now…”

“Wanna make you squirm underneath us, baby”

Your eyes widened at their onslaught of comments and you hoped they didn’t notice your blush. “I… um… I don’t really know what to say…” You shifted the arm holding your phone a bit and Jisungs eyes went wide.

“Baby girl… What are you hiding under all those covers?” His voice was sly and his smirk, amused.

Minho leaned in closer to get a better look. “Fuck, show us the rest…” He breathed.

“For me babydoll?” Jisung pouted, but somehow it was sexy as fuck and you didn’t have it in you to refuse.

You bit your lip and held the phone a bit further out, pulling down the covers and revealing your top half. “All. Of. It.” Minho emphasized with a deep growl. You just didn’t give two fucks anymore, seeing as you were already turned on and heated. So, without further ado, you just threw the entirety of your covers off of you and rubbed your horny thighs together as you showed them yourself in your most vulnerable state.

“Fuck…” They both said in tandem and you licked your lips.

When you angled the phone back up to your face, you now allowed your breasts to be within view. “Well? It’s nothing you guys haven’t seen before…” You bit your lip. These guys really did have such a strong affect on you.

“Well, yeah. But knowing we are all bare in our beds gives us… thoughts…” Jisung hinted and you felt an odd sensation run through you with this knowledge. You shifted your thighs again.

“...Thoughts?” You inquired (even though you definitely already knew what they were thinking).

“Yeah… I might be thinking about a certain canoodling during class you two had last week… and how hyung gave me EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL.” You blushed at the thought. And Jisung definitely noticed. “Did you cum to the thought of me too, baby? Wish I was there helping hyung?”

You bit your lip and nodded, the ache in between your legs becoming more and more apparent.

“I didn’t just tell him, little girl. I showed him. I fucked him right up against the wall just like I did with you…” You closed your eyes at Minho’s words and a hint of a whimper sneaked out through your vocal cords. “Would you like to see that? Want to watch me ruin Hannie the way I did to you?”

Your eyes flew open and you frantically nodded your head, too lost in the moment to realize how vulnerable you were being.

“Well… what will you do to convince us, beautiful? Can you touch yourself for us baby? Let us watch you pleasure yourself to the thought of us?” Jisung’s words were like butter and you felt your body melt into submission.

You didn’t say anything, but you let your actions speak for you. You kept the camera on your face, but you slid your unoccupied hand down between your legs and closed your eyes with an appreciative sigh once you finally got the much needed stimulation to your aching clit.

“Don’t be selfish, girl. Set down your phone so we can see all of you.” Minho’s domineering tone had you boiling in defiance.

“Maybe I would be inclined to if I saw some action on your end too!” You whined, failing to sound as stern as you intended to.

Luckily, Jisung was more receptive to your demands as he chuckled and slowly lowered their covers. Both men sported fully erect cocks and Minho had already been stroking his. You sucked in a breath and bit your lip. “So? Will you show us now, baby?” Jisung muttered in a sultry tone that had you scrambling to set up your phone.

It was kind of difficult to angle it accurately on your bunched up duvet, but you eventually got it stable enough to lay back again. The phone was propped up at the foot of the bed between your legs that way they could see both your face and your hungry cunt.

“Oh fuck…” Minho mumbled as he switched from stroking his own dick to begin stimulating Jisung’s. You watched as Jisung tensed up with hooded eyes and scrambled to take Minho in his hand, pumping him in time with Minho’s slow strokes.

You whined and you moved your fingers to spread open your pussy lips, exposing your leaking entrance. “Fuck, such a good girl…” Jisung breathed. With your hole still on display, you took another finger and started teasing the center of it, threatening yourself with the thought of finally relieving your needy pussy.

“Minho… C-can I watch you prep Hannie? I-if that’s okay with you, Ji…?”

Minho sported an evil grin and Jisung raised a brow. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you baby? You want to watch hyung get me off while I watch you, yeah?” You nodded frantically as you went back and forth from playing with your clit to teasing your entrance. “Of course you can watch, baby…” Jisung sweetly replied and shifted to sit between Minho’s legs before setting the phone down in a similar position to your own, that way you could see his tight hole on display as Minho’s arms instinctively wrapped around his boyfriend.

Minho squeezed Jisung tight and placed a wet kiss on his jaw before leaning over and rummaging their drawer for some lube. Jisung seemed a bit tentative, but he eventually leaned back against his lover and spread his legs for the camera.

You couldn’t hold back your stifled moan when you saw Minho’s slick fingers coat Jisung’s rim with the warmed substance.

They both locked their eyes onto the screen when they heard you and they both had very different reactions. Minho looked like a cocky motherfucker and he grinned with a heavy-jawed smirk as he tongued the corner of his lip. All the while, he brought his other slick hand around the younger and started stroking the man’s leaking cock. Jisung, on the other hand, had his brows turned in while he fluttered his lashes and bit his lip, eyes turning a bit hazy from the amount of stimulation he was receiving.

As soon as you saw the tip of Minho’s finger slip in, you quickly plunged your finger into your own drooling entrance. You witnessed Jisung’s white knuckles as they gripped onto Minho’s sturdy thighs and Jisung groaned when his hole had finally swallowed the full finger and, in turn, caused you to repeat the action on your end.

“Fuck you’re so pretty, Ji…” You sighed wistfully and Jisung smirked at you lazily.

“I could say the same about you, gorgeous…” He huffed before Minho’s, now moving, finger pulled a moan out of him.

“And what about me?” Minho hissed as he continued to pump out noises from the younger.

You let out a breathless scoff. “You boost your own ego enough. You don’t need my help, Min.”

You suddenly heard a whine come from Jisung’s mouth and you realized Minho retreated both of his hands from Jisung’s body. “That’s too bad, it seems you don’t need me then, huh?”

His smirk was all-knowing. He already knew you wanted both of them in this whole fucked up situation and he was all too willing to play dirty. Jisung looked back at you with pleading eyes and you didn’t have the heart to rob him of this.

“Fine.” You started. And he propped his chin up on Jisung’s shoulder with a smug smile. You took a breath and looked down. “Minho…” You looked back up at the camera with hooded lids and became dead serious. “You are so beautiful I want to punch your face in…” He sat up again with an unamused demeanor. “But!” He narrowed his eyes at you. “You sometimes have a certain expression when you look at Jisung… or maybe even me… and I instantly want to drop to my knees for you.”

Jisung bit back his smile and then craned his neck back to look at his hyung’s reaction. The elder tried not to react, but you could tell his pupils were more dilated and his cheeks and ears were a bright red.

You really enjoyed that look on him.

And what else could you do other than milk it? “Minho…” You whined with intense breathless words as you slightly arched your back. “Please touch Jisungie for me? I want to see your cock fill him up. So. Badly.” You almost sounded too overboard on the needy side, but you drove the point home when you inserted two fingers in yourself and threw your head back with a loud moan (that Seungmin most likely heard).

You then heard a cry from Jisung and you whipped your head up to see that Minho had also inserted two of his fingers into Jisung’s hole and began scissoring him open. You replicated the action on yourself and whimpered. Jisung was breathing heavily and his brows were still turned inwards, but he stared at you with such passion that you could almost feel the heat radiating off of him in waves all the way across the other end of the call.

“Fuck, just like that beautiful, do to yourself what hyung does to me… feel what I feel baby girl.” Jisung groaned and he tilted his head with a euphoric expression when Minho started kissing and biting his way up Jisung’s neck.

Just the pure eroticism of everything you saw on that screen was bringing you way more pleasure than if you were just watching regular porn.

“Shit, Sungie… I wish I was there to suck you off at the same time…” Your comment made the two men groan and Jisung sucked in a breath when Minho began to wiggle a third finger in.

“M-me too, baby…” He managed to squeak out in response.

You steadily became needy enough to need more. They both watched you with confusion written across their faces as you shimmied over to the side of your bed to reach your nightstand. When you came back into frame with a little pink dildo, they both cursed.

“M-Minnie I’m ready…” Jisung blurted in a flurry and began sitting up, suddenly emptying himself of the elder’s fingers.

“You sure, jagi?” Minho asked tentatively as he held onto the boy’s hips. Han just nodded his head with a whine and lifted himself up with Minho’s assistance to hover over his cock. “Do it with me, baby girl. Fuck yourself with us.” Minho replied huskily to you and your small whimpers of impatience.

You sat in full view of the sinful sight of Jisung slowly sinking down on Minho’s leaking and over-eager erection as you, too, began penetrating yourself.

Minho hissed at the feeling of finally being stimulated and he dropped his head down on Han’s shoulder. Jisung, however, went slack-jawed and his chest began palpitating from his heavy breathing. And you? You saw this as you penetrated yourself and breathed out a hundred expletives as you failed to match their speed and immediately shoved the toy all the way up in you.

You heard a deep chuckle come from Han’s mouth and you looked at him like you wanted to eat him. “Eager, baby? Imagine how much better you would feel if that was my dick inside you instead…” Jisung’s voice was breathless as he spewed his delicious lewdness and you could only respond with a needy whine.

After a few experimental pumps, just to make sure Han was comfortable, Minho wrapped his arms around the other man and started fucking up into him. Jisung bounced to meet his thrusts and the entire time you were fucking yourself, you spewed out filth and rushed whimpers of their names, the men on the other end growling yours in return.

It didn’t take long for you to reach your peak and you came with a loud cry. “FuckfuckfuckMinhoJisungfuuuck!!!” You emptied your lungs completely and felt lightheaded when you came back down.

Luckily, when you regained focus, Minho’s face was scrunched and violent as he slammed Jisung down on his cock. Jisung looked completely fucked out as his head was lolled to the side and his knuckles were white on his knees as he spread his legs.

Minho pumped into Han a few more times before you saw a strand of white shoot in the air and land on Jisung’s chest. His cry of pleasure was very much like your own when he climaxed. However, Minho growled like a feral tiger as his hips stuttered and he finally came deep inside the younger, teeth finding their mark on Han’s shoulder to stifle his moans (that were still very much audible).

For a moment, all that was heard was heavy breathing. You closed your eyes momentarily to collect yourself. Yeeeah you were definitely going to need another shower. When you opened your eyes again, your heart swelled.

The two men were gazing into each other’s eyes with loving smiles on their faces, giggling and kissing periodically. It was such a heartwarming thing sight that you felt a smile cross your features. Until it dropped.

What the fuck were you doing?

These men were each other’s whole lives. They were so obviously madly in love that anyone within a twenty meter radius could sense it. Seeing them together felt right. Seeing them together screamed “SOULMATES”.

Who were you?

You had no place here. You were just someone they met that would be willing enough to spice up their love life. A pawn.

A pawn.

Made to be used and discarded. Always second best or worse. To them. To your ex. To… anyone.

The heartwarming feeling you had turned sour and you suddenly felt like you were going to be sick. Now, feeling like a whore and plaything, you felt extremely vulnerable.

You scrambled to cover yourself and they whipped their heads to the screen, smiles turning into perplexed frowns. “You alright, pet?” Minho inquired.

You felt your eyes water and you cursed yourself for being so weak. You ‘accidentally’ knocked over your phone so they saw nothing but black when you hollered over to the speaker. “Y-yeah! I, uh. I gotta go! See you guys next week!”

“Wai—“

“Are yo—“

They both said simultaneously right as you ended the call.

You were ashamed to say that you cried on the shower floor that night.

__________________________________________

The texting the week after that was minimal. You used working as an excuse to avoid talking too much and you told them the other night’s abrupt departure was because Seungmin came to tease you about the noise.

That was… partially true… but he held off on doing that until the following morning.

You reassured their concerns about your attendance to the party for the next class just to get them off your back. After all, you still did consider them as… friends? Yeah, sure, friends. So you didn’t mind celebrating Minho’s last day, especially with other people around to mingle with to… distract yourself with…

You arrived to class last-minute in hopes of avoiding chatting with the pair. However, as luck would have it, when Seungmin drove up to drop you off, they appeared to be waiting for you.

You internally groaned and gave Seungmin the stink-eye when he waggled his eyebrows at you suggestively.

As you stepped out of the car, you gave the two (stupidly gorgeous) men a meek smile. They stepped towards you eagerly and Jisung smiled with worried eyes as Minho looked down at you cautiously.

“Hey, guys. We’re gonna be late for class! Let’s go, Min!” You felt broken seeing them again and spoke as if you were being suffocated and, as you passed them, you felt a hand grasp your wrist and spin you around.

“Look here, you little shit. You’ve been acting weird all fucking week. I’m not buying your bullshit act, so you need to tell us what the fuck is wrong with you.” Minho spat at you, inches from your face. Fuck he’s so hot. You wanted those lips so bad…

Wait. No! Stop stupid horny brain!

You yanked your wrist free from his grip and took a step back, fury blooming on your face. “Me? What the fuck is wrong with you? I said I was fine! You’re the one making a big deal out of it!” You adjusted your coat, feeling a bit more comfortable in the cool air after getting so heated. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a class that I am now LATE for!”

And with that, you spun around and marched inside, leaving a pissed off Minho and a distressed Jisung behind.

Other than hiding in the bathroom during the class break, Minho glared at you the entire time as you pretended not to notice.

__________________________________________

After fleeing at the end of class in almost a humorous fashion to avoid talking to them, you jumped into Seungmin’s car and demanded him to get a fucking move on.

Later that evening, you decided to forgo the dressing up for just simply wearing what you did that morning, jeans and a baggy graphic t-shirt with a cute image of Tanjiro and Nezuko on the front.

That’s not necessarily seductive… right?

You decided it would be rude to show up to the party (Yes you were going! You promised!) without contributing anything, so you had Seungmin stop on the way there to buy a bottle of Jim Beam and a two liter bottle of coke to take with you.

As Seungmin stopped in front of the (pretty fancy) apartment building, you checked the address on your phone again. “Yep, I guess this is the one…” You sighed, grabbing your bag of drinks and stepping out of the car.

However, before you could walk away, Seungmin rolled down the window and hollered at you. “Hey! If you need me, for anything, let me know and I’ll be here in a flash. Okay?”

You rolled your eyes and waved your hand nonchalantly. “Yeah yeah, okay mom. I’ll call if I need to, just don’t stay up on my account.” You chuckled.

He smirked as he shifted the car into drive. “Have fun with your boooyfrieeeends~” He lilted before he drove off.

You huffed and muttered to yourself in frustration. “They’re not my boyfriends…” You grumbled as you marched to the intercom. You took a breath before you buzzed the right apartment number and, oddly enough, you were immediately let in.

You found yourself subconsciously running your hands through your hair and straightening your clothes when you knocked on their front door, quickly catching the action and kicking yourself for it.

Do NOT be flirtatious. Do NOT be alluring. Do NOT be sugges–

You froze when the door opened to a breathtaking display of the two men. They looked absolutely… natural? Comfortable and casual in their normal clothes they also wore this morning. I mean, I GUESS not everyone dresses up for parties. But… where is everyone?

As you ogled their, still very gorgeous, appearances, Minho spoke up in a stern voice. “What are you doing here?” You slightly deflated and looked at the ground. Wow, was Minho really that petty to not want you there anymore?

You scoffed with a bitter smile. “Well I’m sorry I didn’t know I was uninvited!” You held out the bag of drinks and shoved it into Minho’s hands. “I got this for you for your last day. Bye.” You spat with venom in your tone. Right as you turned and felt the angry waterworks prickling at your eyes, you felt a pair of arms spin you around and wrap you up into their owner’s embrace.

“Of course you’re still invited, silly. We just thought you weren’t going to want to come…” Jisung said from where his face was smooshed into your neck from the hug.

You squeezed him back. “Of course I wanted to come! I promised!”

“Then what the fuck was that shit this morning?!” Minho barked at you from the door.

You glared at him when Jisung released you. “That was me not wanting some asshole to grill me on useless nonsense!”

“That’s bullish—“

“Oh will you two stop it! She’s here now so let's just get the hell on with it!” Jisung interjected while brushing past Minho and dragging you in along behind him.

Their place was nice, like, really nice. Like, shit, what do these men do?! You knew 3RACHA was successful, but damn…

You also noticed the very obvious emptiness of it. “Where is everyone? I’m I early or something?”

“What do you mean?” Jisung hollered from the kitchen as he snatched the drinks away from his boyfriend to start preparing some glasses for the three of you.

“The party? Minho’s graduation from psycho class? Ring a bell?” You raised a brow, still avoiding eye contact with the grumpy elder that stood off to the side with his arms crossed.

Jisung looked confused momentarily before he showed a moment of realization and started cackling. “Oh sweetie! When we said party, we meant only the three of us!” He giggled wildly as he continued making the drinks and you glimpsed at Minho smiling adoringly at his giggling lover. You felt that odd shift in your gut again as you witnessed it. “By the way, babe.” Jisung added. “Thanks for bringing drinks, you’re the best!”

When Jisung handed you your drink, you hummed in response and quickly turned from the kitchen to hide your worried brows and wandered around the wide expanse of their home. “You guys must have thought my place was a hovel compared to this! Look how high the ceilings are!” You exclaimed as you periodically guzzled down huge gulps of your drink.

“You want a tour, baby?” Jisung said with a sultry tone, suddenly right behind you, leaning close to your ear. The feeling gave you shivers and you quickly took a step or two away to fight off the feeling that the sinful voice brought to you.

“Uh-uhh not right now! Um how about we get on to the festivities! What did you guys have planned for tonight?”

Minho raised a brow from where he was cautiously following and leaned up against the wall. “What exactly were you wanting to do?”

You bit your lip and felt the need to escape the intimidating glare. You quickly walked back into the living room and turned back to them. “Movie? Movies are always good!” You made yourself at home as you plopped down on their couch and reached for the TV remote.

Before you grabbed it, a hand grabbed you. “We have a TV in our bedroom. With surround sound too. The bed is nice and comfortable in there.” Minho looked like he was testing you as he narrowed his eyes and grabbed your wrist a bit tighter, face inching closer all the while.

You subtly tried to pull away. “I-It’s fine! I like it in here! It’s very spacious!” You grabbed his hand to remove it, but, even with the all the strength you harbored, his arms and hands were banded with thick muscles that were unrelenting. “Minho! What the fuck? Let go of me!”

“Minnie? What’s going on?” Jisung said in a soothing voice as he sat his drink down on the coffee table.

“That’s what I’d like to fucking know. What, exactly, is wrong? You’ve been barely speaking to us, desperately avoiding looking at us, and yet you still came here tonight! Are you just here to string us along?!”

You felt your blood boil and you stood up in a flare and the fury of your muscles finally ripped free of his grasp. “AND WHAT ABOUT ME, HUH?!” You shouted back at him, venom dripping from every syllable and making Jisung jolt in surprise. “Who the fuck is stringing who along here?! Because the way I see it, I’m just here as a fuck buddy to spice up your relationship!”

Minho was the one to look befuddled this time and neither one of them breathed a word.

You continued. “You heard my fucking pitiful story in class and decided it would be fun to coerce me into letting you and your boyfriend use me while I was still ‘weak and vulnerable’ and would be malleable enough to be convinced to fuck you both!” You scoffed a sarcastic laugh. “So why the fuck am I here? It’s obvious to anyone that you two are madly in love! While I’ve become a goddamn sex doll that’s to be used and discarded when you’re done with me! I am here because I AM weak!”

You felt fresh tears roll down your face and the men looked gobsmacked.

“I’m a fucking weak-ass whore that didn’t want to say goodbye!...” You sobbed at the painful word.

It was silent for a long while before Minho steeled his face and took a step towards you. “Min, wait…” Jisung said while putting his hand on the elder’s arm to stop him.

However, Minho easily stepped out of his grasp and came toe-to-toe with you. He looked down at your pitiful, damp, and flushed pout with a stone-cold expression. “Have you been fucking any men other than us?” You shook your head no, but maintained eye contact. “And have we ever said that this was just a fling?” You could only look down this time, but it was quickly turned up again by a gentle finger under your chin. “Then why in the fresh hell do you think you’re a whore?”

Your face turned doe-eyed and he released you so Jisung could also come and reassure you as well. “We never thought for a single second about leaving you. Why would you even think such a thing?” He looked at you sullenly.

Minho caught your attention again when he wiped your tears with his thumb. “This is exclusive, baby. We want you equally as much.” Your eyebrows raised and he smirked. “Even with all your pissed off brattiness.”

Jisung stepped forward and wiped the tears from the other cheek. “It might not exactly be… conventional, but would you be willing to give us a chance to date you? Please?” Lord, how could a man be so incredibly sexy and yet so adorable at the same time?

You offered a small smile to the men and gave a small nod, Han abruptly picking you up and swinging you around. When he sat you back down on your feet, your attention jerked to Minho when he roughly grabbed you by the waist. And growled against your lips. “And if you ever–”

“Oh shut the fuck up for once!” You halted him with irritation and smashed your lips against his to shut him up.

Once you knew he would drop it, (indicated by how he hungrily grabbed at you) you reached out a hand to grab the younger and transferred your lips to Han’s. He immediately responded and Minho moved around to circle you from the back while Jisung moved to face you, lips still attached along the way. You breathed a contented sigh when Jisung’s tongue met your own just as Minho began kissing his way down your neck.

It was when you felt both of them beginning to sport a semi that pressed into the front and back of you that you broke the kiss. “I think I want to see the bedroom now…” You hinted breathlessly as Jisung smiled against your lips and Minho mimicked the movement on the skin of your shoulder.

Without another word, Jisung picked you up to wrap your arms and legs around his body, and quickly led you further into their home.

__________________________________________

“Fuck! Yes! Oh GOD yes!!! Don’t stop Ji, please!” The men had you spread eagle on their bed and had been trading you back and forth for what felt like hours. The stamina these men had was outrageous to you and they had you shaking profusely after all of the orgasms they gave you.

Jisung currently had his face in your cunt, sipping and licking out both his and Minho’s combined cum from deep inside you. Minho, on the other hand, was straddled across your abdomen facing you, furiously fucking your titties like they made up his own personal fleshlight. “That’s it baby, hold them nice and tight for me–ngh…” Minho grunted as he sped up. You used your hands to push your breasts even tighter around him and he groaned.

You broke out in a sob when Jisung brought you, yet again, to another orgasm that night. Your voice was hoarse from both the cries of pleasure and the way they had fucked your throat earlier, but you were too blissed out to care.

With Minho being all you could see (and, fuck, what a sight it was…), you weren’t expecting it when you felt Jisung slowly slip his dick in you once again. How did these men manage to keep getting hard after coming so many times?

Indeed, there was cum absolutely everywhere. Your bodies, the bed, pillows and your hair had at least one or all three of your guy’s sexual fluids on them. You didn’t even care at this point.

At the end of the night, after they cleaned you and your swollen pussy in a warm bath and then laid you in a freshly-made bed, all you could think about was how grateful you were to get that stupid court order.

__________________________________________

If you’ve made it this far thank you for reading! I know Minho isn’t a bad person, it’s just reeeally hot when he gets mad. 😈 Please let me know what you think in the comments!

Please like, follow, and share! Thanks baby stays! 😘

And of course my squad:

@lyramundana

@channieandhisgoonsquad

@sweetracha

2chopsticks2eyes - Masterlist

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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 1 month ago

Text

THANK GOD FOR THE ENDING. I THOUGHT IM GONNA CRY 😭😭😭😭

if I call your name, will you answer?

Pairing: ot8!stray kids x fem!reader (poly)

Warnings: pain, cramps, medicine/painkillers and a mention of taking more than the label on the bottle says, doctors, anxiety, health anxiety, hurt/comfort, angst, medical discussion, nausea, mentions of vomit, very severe period symptoms (seriously if you relate to this pls see a doctor if you can! This much pain is not normal!!), friends to lovers (not explicitly discussed tbh but they all love each other already), reader is older than Jeongin but age is not otherwise mentioned, polyamory (mxm and fxm), mentions of burning oneself, cursing, implied!vampire/hybrid!skz (it’s barely touched on honestly, but maybe one day I’ll build on it xD), soulmate!skz (I’m incapable of writing non soulmate stories ig), (this is more of a ramble than a coherent piece of literature, so be warned)

Word count: 9.9k

Summary: plagued by terrible, ER-trip-worthy period symptoms, you schedule a nerve-wracking doctor’s appointment that takes months to arrive, and Chan, your best friend of many years, promises to take you because he knows you’re feeling anxious about it all. Morning of said appointment, however, he bails, leaving you wrecked with pain and nausea, and anxious beyond belief. Who will you call to help you now?

a/n: hello! welcome to raspberry leaves pt. 2! Long time no see I guess? Sorry for disappearing, life got a little crazy :O I’ll update you all soon on me and LTM book progress I promise! I just had this sitting in my drafts for a year or two and finally decided to post it even though it’s had no edits for a while xD sorry if it’s incoherent lol it's mostly just a very long ramble :DD

“Hey, baby, I’m really sorry but I’m not going to be able to make it to your appointment today,” Chan starts the voicemail with a somber voice. “Something came up this morning and I have to take care of it before the kids get back.” The kids, as in, the other boys. “I know you were worried about it, so I’m really sorry I won’t be there for you, angel. I hope everything goes well and you get some answers, okay? Call me when you get back home. I love you, bye.”

The dial sound that cuts off his voicemail makes your stomach sick. Fuck. Chan was right, you have been very anxious about the doctor’s appointment today. It’s probably the seventh time you’ve been into the office in the past two months, yet you still have no answers to your long list of problems. Chan knows this. You told him so. But you’re not so certain he knows to what degree this problem has been making you worry.

The week of your period was always a struggle. When you were young, it was just the cramps. You could handle cramps, especially with the convenience of painkillers, a hot water bottle, and the lovely invention of raspberry leaf tea. But then it started to get worse. And worse. And now you dread the three-week long endeavor entirely. With the symptoms you get before your cycle to the week after? It was hell. Hours upon hours of cramps that throb so deeply that no painkiller could save you, nausea that sends you weeping into the toilet seat, hot sweats, chills, mood swings, bloating… You truly could not win, could you?

And no doctor was yet to give you any answers.

At first, you were furious. You went in and out of the office, calling specialists and waiting weeks for appointments. Indignation burned beneath your skin and frustration swelled in your stomach. Why was no one willing to help you? It was always ‘call us back if it gets worse,’ or ‘have you tried ibuprofen?’ As if you didn’t spend twenty minutes telling them that ‘yes, it has gotten worse, that’s why I’m here,’ and ‘yes, I take too much and it worries me.’

But now? Now, you were just tired.

Tired and in so much pain, you can do nothing but lay there on the tile bathroom floor, clutch the rim of the porcelain toilet seat, and hope you don’t vomit last night’s dinner. At least, by any standards, you’re grateful the cramps haven’t started yet. There’s just the pressure in your pelvis, the bloating, the headache, the fatigue, and the rest of it.

At least you could still make your appointment. Hopefully.

But now Chan isn’t going to be with you.

To pile on top of your uncertain ability to drive in this state, you’re more anxious than you have been in days. The notion of Chan being there with you was a balm on your nerves, and you could at least soothe the ache in your stomach with the thought of him being there with you. His presence was one of the very few who could sate your endless anxiety with a comforting squeeze and a few murmured words to rock you to sleep. He’s your best friend. Well, technically, you have eight best friends, but something about Bang Chan has always been a blanket to your endlessly cold thoughts. Something about him made your heartbeat slow and your stomach settle and your chest stop aching and—

And he’s not going to be there this time.

It makes another wave of bile swell in your tummy. You hate being nauseous. It spikes your anxiety like no other. A bead of sweat drips down your forehead from the flash of heat striking through your chest, and you finally choke on a silent sob as the weight of it all crashes over you. You feel weak and pathetic and tired and you’re tired of being tired and—

You cut that thought off. Complaining is doing you no good.

Wiping your tears and the disgusting drip of snot from your nose, you fumble for your phone in your pocket. You don’t want to be alone. Not for this. Thumbing the screen, you open the keypad and dial the first number you can think of.

It barely has the chance to ring before he picks up.

“Bunny? What’s up? I thought you had a doctor’s appointment soon?”

Changbin: the only man who could ever get away with calling you ‘bunny.’

You sniffle weakly at the sound of his voice and sigh. “Binnie.”

Somehow, whether it’s the sound of your snuffle or the tremble of your voice, he knows something is wrong.

“Baby? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

His voice drops to that low murmur he only does when he’s serious, and you hear the dull sound of something being dropped to the floor as keys jingle in the background. A voice calls out, and guilt rolls through you. Another heavy sigh trembles through your chest as you try to hold back tears.

“‘M okay, Binnie—” An obvious lie. “I just—Are you busy right now?”

The keys jingle again. “Never too busy for you.”

You almost smile.

“Can you drive me to my appointment?” The words come out choked and breathy like they cannot resist being said. Yes, Chan may be a balm on your nerves, but Changbin is the wind beneath your wings—the current keeping you afloat. “Please. I was going to take myself, but I’m just so nauseous and sick and I’m worried about driving like this and I won’t be able to get another appointment for months if I cancel—”

“Woah, slow down, bunny, it’s alright.” You exhale through another wave of sickness. “I thought Chan was going to take you?”

You hum a vague sound of disagreement. “Busy. He left me a voicemail.”

Someone curses in the background, but you can’t tell who it is.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I’ve gotta drop Lino off at the house and I’ll be right there, okay? Take a deep breath, baby. It’s gonna be alright.”

You shake your head before realizing you have to open your mouth if you want Changbin to understand you. “I’m sorry I interrupted you, Binnie. Are you and Minho at the gym?”

“Hey, don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Minho’s there. His soft voice makes the ache in your chest dampen. Pressing your sweaty forehead into your hands, you sigh and groan through another wave of sickness and pant weakly. Minho murmurs something you can’t hear—perhaps meant only for Changbin—then his dulcet voice meets your ears again. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re going to find the strength to get into the bath—not the shower. Please don’t try that without one of us around. If you fall we won’t be there to help.”

“Min—”

“Sweetheart.” He matches your tone firmly. “Please, the warm water will help, I promise. By the time you’re done, Bin and I will be there and we’ll take you to your appointment, okay? Eleven o’clock, right? We’ll get it all sorted out for you.”

He sounds so sure of himself that you almost feel better. Maybe you needed that—someone to take the reins for a minute. You’re so stubborn, you know? Always taking care of others but never stopping to let yourself be taken care of.

With a gentle sigh and a nod of determination, you exhale a confirmation, “Okay, Min. Thank you.��

“Always. We’ll be there in twenty, okay? Don’t worry.”

Minho jumps out of the car before Changbin even has a chance to put it in park.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs as he takes long strides to meet you at the door. The tote bag slung over your shoulder with all your necessities is taken from you before you can open your mouth. Wrapping a casual arm around your waist, he drops a tender peck to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

“Yeah. The bath helped a little. I’m not so nauseous now,” you hum quietly, thoroughly exhausted, and nod your head. It’s not unusual for them to be so casually intimate with you; you’ve been friends for years, and lord knows they don’t spare physical affection amongst each other. The kissing, on the other hand, is a little new for Minho.

“Hmm, I’m glad. You smell good too. You use that vanilla cinnamon lotion Lixie bought you?”

A vague, tired nod is all Minho gets in answer, but it makes him smile. Rubbing your hip gently with a firm palm, he hums and pecks your forehead again.

“Alright, c’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get going, we’ve got a bit of a drive, right?”

You bite your lip to stop the flush from taking over your face. Minho opens the passenger side door for you just as you reach for the backseat. Shaking his head while you protest, he ushers you into what was once his seat, and then he slides into the back.

“Hey, bunny,” Changbin greets as you drop into the seat. He’s already reaching over you for your seatbelt, clicking it into place as you open your mouth to respond.

“You don’t have to do that, Bin.”

Dark, messy curls fall into Changbin’s eyes when he shakes his head and smiles. You love his natural, curly hair. “Of course I do. We love you, you know?”

You ignore the tumble in your stomach in favor of squeezing his arm. He offers you another sweet, dimpled smile, before he turns back to the road, ready to drive. You try not to stare when his bicep flexes as he tosses it behind your head to reverse out of your driveway.

“Meds are in the bag by your feet if you haven’t taken them yet. There’s some of those ginger crackers in there too if you’re able to eat anything. Put the heat pack on your stomach, drink some water, and relax, okay? We’ll take care of everything else.”

Low and behold, in the bag at the foot of the passenger seat, there’s a pill case with each of the emergency medicines you use, a set of heat packs, one of Binnie’s hoodies, and a bottle of your favorite electrolytes. When you dig around in the bag, you even find the weighted chick plush Felix bought you last year. They keep it at their dorms, and you often find yourself using it when you spend the night at their place for dinner or movies. You brush your fingertips over it with a soft, heart-squeezing sigh.

“Changbin—”

Without looking at you, Changbin drops his right hand into your lap and squeezes your thigh. You stare at his fingers as they grip the meat of your inner thigh, trying desperately not to let the heat beneath your skin show on your face. Now, that is a tumble in your stomach you cannot ignore.

“You don’t have to say anything, bun. Just rest. Try not to think about your appointment in the meantime, alright? Your kindle is somewhere in that bag too if you need a distraction. You left it at our place last week.”

“I think Jinnie stole it,” Minho confides from the backseat. “I caught him reading it this morning.”

You make a disgruntled sound in the back of your throat and smile. “Really? I’ve been looking for this all week. That bastard.”

A chuckle from the backseat makes the buzzing beneath your skin finally settle. Despite all their rambunctiousness and their chaos, Minho and Changbin are arguably two of the most dependable members of your friend group. You’re more than grateful they’re with you now. If Chan couldn’t be with you…

You push that thought away. It doesn’t matter what Chan would have done. He’s not there.

You can’t stop picking at your cuticles. It’s a nasty habit that Seungmin has been trying to make you break for years. On your left hand, your thumb is already sore and the other nails have not been spared. When you pull into the lot of your doctor’s office, there are no empty spots open out front. Changbin comes to a stop by the entrance and glances into the backseat, making silent eye contact with Minho. They exchange looks quickly, then Minho is unclicking his seatbelt to get out.

“Oh, Minho, you don’t have to—”

“C’mon, sweetheart, let’s get you checked in.” Opening the door for you, he holds out his hand and offers you a gentle smile. You gnaw on your bottom lip to stop the grin from spreading across your face.

“Okay.”

Minho leads you into the office, your bag on his shoulder, and his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand. You speak to the man at the front desk and find a seat in the waiting room in the meantime. In the sterile, wallpapered office, the anxiety returns tenfold, and Minho is quick to set his opposite hand on your bouncing knee.

“Hey,” he whispers, leaning close and rubbing another circle over your leg. “Don’t pick. Here.”

He offers his palm, face up, and allows you to twist the rings on his fingers back and forth in place of your nervous scratching. In the quiet of the waiting room, he murmurs quiet conversation to you, not expecting you to answer. He’s so patient, you have half a mind to thank him just for sitting with you.

Then a nurse opens the door, calling your full name.

You perk up, hand unconsciously seizing around Minho’s as you stand. “That’s me.”

“We’re all ready for you to head on back! Oh, I see you came with someone today. Would you like your boyfriend to sit in with you?”

The fire beneath your skin ignites, and you bashfully begin to correct the nurse when Minho coughs. Turning back to him with nervous eyes, you watch the corner of his mouth quirk up gently into a soft smile. He meets your gaze with his sweet, dark eyes that shine too much like boba pearls. Your heart stutters.

“Do you want me there with you, sweetheart?”

He doesn't correct the nurse. Maybe that’s just because they probably wouldn’t allow him in the room if he wasn’t your partner, but a tiny part of you hopes it’s for another reason. Maybe that’s selfish considering the feelings you harbor for his friends. But that’s a problem for another time.

“Are you comfortable with that?” you find the courage to tease. “There’s going to be a lot of talk about periods and cramps and—”

“My masculinity isn’t going to take a hit if I hear you talk a little bit about blood, love.” The corners of his mouth stretch into a smirk as he rests one hand onto your hip. “I’ll be damned if my best friend can’t talk about her debilitating medical symptoms in front of me without me whining like a teenage boy hearing the word cu—”

“Okay!” you cut him off. “I’m gonna stop you right there. You definitely learned that one from Felix.”

Minho chuckles in that low, smooth voice that makes your pulse sigh his name. Squeezing your hand sweetly, he looks up at you like a curious kitten. “It’s up to you, bub. Do you want me there?”

The mood dampens with the weight of your nerves returning tenfold with the prospect of being in that sterile, white-walled room alone. You glance once at the nurse who gives you an encouraging smile, then you lick your lips, squeeze his hand tightly, and nod. “Yes please. If you’re comfortable with that, I’d really like it if you were there with me.”

Minho smiles. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Dysmenorrhea. Hormone imbalances. Endometriosis. Pelvic Inflammatory Disease. Fibroids. Birth control. Ovarian cysts. Pelvic floor therapy. Ultrasounds. Surgery.

Your head is spinning.

There’s so much information but still no answers.

You’re overwhelmed and anxious and disappointed and frankly, just so damn tired. You are walking out of that doctor’s office with the same amount of answers as when you walked in.

Minho says nothing to Changbin when he holds the door open for you as you leave. They both exchange a look as Minho escorts you back to the car, and Changbin is too emotionally intelligent to bother you when you don’t want to talk. Instead of stepping into the passenger seat, Minho opens the door to the backseat and helps you settle in. Then he steps around the car to slide into the other side, buckling himself in beside you and leaving the passenger seat empty. Changbin says nothing. He just passes your bag to Minho and starts the car after offering a gentle rub of your leg and a comforting smile.

The cramps start on the ride home.

You can feel the twinge in your lower belly, beginning to radiate down your legs. Before you can dig around in your bag, Minho is uncapping the bottle of your painkillers and fishing out three. Without looking up, he deposits them in your hand, uncaps your water bottle, and drops a packet of ginger cookies in your lap.

“Eat,” he murmurs beneath his breath sternly, and you know he means business. Lee Minho does not play when it comes to your health. “You can’t take these without food.”

You nod, saying nothing, and begin to idly chew on the cookies while Minho messes around in your bag. As he gets things organized, you finish your food and take a full swig of water as you swallow the painkillers. How he knew you needed three rather than the usual two is beyond you, but you’re not going to ask. Putting a name to that intrinsic feeling between the nine of you will never be able to encompass all that is your bond to each other. Minho watches you with an arched brow, making sure you drink more than just a sip of your water.

He takes too good care of you; it’s almost annoying.

“Min—”

“You don’t have to say anything, sweetheart.”

“I know.” You drop your head, staring at the chipped paint on your nails and exhaling deeply. Fidgeting your thumbs, you finally look back up at him and swallow. “Thank you, though. For coming in with me. And picking me up. And everything else. You too, Binnie.”

Changbin casts a glance in the rearview mirror, offering a gentle smile before he turns back to the road.

“Of course, baby. You don’t have to thank us.”

You shake your head, frowning as another cramp takes hold, and lean into Minho’s side to quell your heartache. “I do. You’re too kind to me. Both of you.”

The expression on Minho’s face falters. For a second, he looks pained, then he reaches for you and tucks you into his side. The seat belt digs into your side but he slides it out of the way so you can comfortably fit beside him. Your heartbeat kicks up a notch as he brushes his hand over your waist, but you can’t find the energy to be flustered. You’re just too tired. Eyes beginning to sag, you lay your head onto his shoulder and allow him to tuck your blanket around you.

“No, sweetheart.” Minho shakes his head. His voice drops, as if he doesn't intend for you to hear the next part. “It’s not that. You just deserve so much more than you’re given.”

You fall asleep with Changbin and Minho quietly watching over you, as they always will.

You wake with thankfully duller cramps. The roar of the car engine still hums in your ears, so you assume you’re still a ways from home. Beneath your cheek, Minho smells of bergamot and cedar. Too tired to pry open your fatigued eyelids, you sag further into Minho’s side and continue to fitfully fall back asleep. If it’s any comfort for the pain, you’d prefer to rest. You feel Minho’s arm tighten around you, as though trying to gently coax you back to sleep as you fidget. You almost succumb to the gentle rubbing of his thumb on your hip.

Then the quiet voices bring you back to the waking world.

“Did they say anything? Did she get any answers?”

A sigh of frustration echoes from beside you. “No. They gave her a long list of things it could be and a referral for an ultrasound, but didn’t give her anything to help today.”

Hyunjin makes a muffled sound into the receiver. “You sound pissed, hyung.”

“I am. They were so dismissive of her concerns, even when I was sitting right there to back her up. I mean, she called us in tears this morning, Hyunjin. Tears. She could barely find the strength to get into the bath and they just brushed her off like it was any other day.”

You remember that. It was obvious that Minho had grown increasingly frustrated through your appointment. At one point, his jaw clenched so tightly, you worried he would crack teeth. You appreciated having him there though. Truly. He advocated for you even when he didn’t have to.

“Seriously? The doctor did that?” That’s Felix. You would know the lull of his deep voice anywhere.

“I mean, I think the exact words she used were ‘It could be any number of things, but we’ll need more time to diagnose those than we have today. Take some ibuprofen, use a hot compress, and call us back to schedule another appointment.’ I could have strangled her, Felix. You should have seen our girl’s face.”

Our girl. Their girl.

“What do you mean?”

Minho makes another sound, something that sounds dejected and mournful. “I mean, the way she looked. She was just… She was so tired and it looked like she was trying so hard not to cry.”

It’s quiet for a long time, as if neither Felix nor Hyunjin know what to say. Then it’s Jisung, quiet and solemn, who whispers, “Is she okay? Right now, I mean?”

Minho exhales and you hear rustling and feel the blanket being tugged higher up your lap. Unbeknownst to you, Changbin glances in the rearview mirror, watching as Minho’s eyes soften sweetly as he retucks the blanket around you and brushes a strand of hair from your face. A barely-there smile tugs at his lips.

“I don’t think so, Ji.” There’s a resounding echo of silence. “She was really overwhelmed when we got in the car, and then her cramps started a few minutes later. I tried to get her to sleep a little, but I don’t know if it’s helping.”

Changbin tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re bringing her back to the dorms.”

“Are you sure? She doesn’t usually like company on the first few days of her period,” Hyunjin murmurs into the phone. His voice comes out a little different through the device, but it’s undeniably Hyunjin.

“I know.” Minho swallows and glances back down at you, but you cannot see him. “Maybe I’m being too selfish, but I can’t bear knowing that she’s in this much pain alone.”

Your heart swells.

Inhaling another fragrant wave of Minho’s cologne, you bury your nose in his shirt and find the courage to cling to him. Your efforts are reciprocated quickly, as Minho shifts in his seat to allow you the space to nearly crawl halfway into his lap. You wonder if he knows you’re awake now. Perhaps he does, because his hand drops lower to rub sweet circles across your abdomen, right where the worst of the throbbing is.

“Is Chan back?”

The younger members hesitate. A crackle is heard over the phone. Jisung’s voice drops. “No. He left really early this morning. We haven’t seen him since.”

You don’t see the way Minho’s jaw grinds.

“Can someone please call and try to get him home?”

“What? Why?”

Minho’s hand rubs another soft circle across your stomach. He blinks down at you, curled up too small in his lap. On any other occasion, this would be cute; you look awfully cat-like sprawled across him like this. But the way your features are curled up in pain and the way you squirm as another wave of cramps rolls all the way down your thighs… He just wants you better. And only Chan knows how to do that.

“She needs him. Tell him it’s an emergency or something. Tell him you set the dorms on fire, for all I care. Just get him home.”

Hyunjin scoffs, as if personally insulted. Maybe he is. He’s always been acutely attuned to you. When you’re mad, he’s mad. When you’re happy, he’s happy. And right now, he must feel every bit of indignation you have for the eldest. “Really? He ditched her this morning, Minho. Do you really think she wants to see him right now?”

Minho is quiet when he answers, “He’s the best at comforting her the way she needs.”

“We can—”

“Hyunjin, please. It’s going to get worse and you know she’s going to want him.”

He falters.

“For her, Jinnie.”

You think you might hear his heart crack.

“Yeah, okay,” Hyunjin relents. “I’ll call him. For her.”

You didn’t realize they cared about you this much. You didn’t know they knew all these things about you.

You love them so much.

Changbin must have carried you in from the car because you wake up in one of the beds in their dorms. You can tell it’s Seungmin’s from the rich scent of his sheets. You bury your nose into his pillowcase and sink into the familiarity of him. He must have let you sleep here knowing no one would bother you in his room. A dull wave of agony squeezes the bottom of your stomach tight. You exhale sharply and roll over to face the fading sunlight coming in from the half-closed curtains.

“Hey, sweet girl,” comes the soft mumble from the doorway. “Feeling any better?”

“Hi, Minnie.”

You don’t look up at him when you say it. Buried in his dark blue sheets and voice muffled into the pillowcase, you grumble without turning to him. He lets out a soft chuckle and covers his mouth with his palm. “You still sound sleepy, pretty baby. How are your cramps?”

Finally pulling your face from the bed, you turn over your shoulder to look at Seungmin with hot cheeks. He calls you that a lot: pretty baby. It never fails to make your stomach flip, even with the full, agonizing cramping sensation. The tall boy is leaning against the doorframe, a plate in his hands and a steaming mug in the other. When he steps into the room, he sets the mug down onto a coaster on his bedside table and lifts one leg to sit on his bed. The plate sits in his lap as Seungmin reaches forward to brush a messy strand of hair behind your ear. You look a little ruffled, having just woken up, but Seungmin thinks it’s cute. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, a pout on your lips… What he would give to kiss that look off your face.

“‘S okay,” you grumble tiredly. “Six out of ten right now, I think.”

He tries not to wince. How a six out of ten on the pain scale is okay, will never make sense to him. Someone—perferably a medical professional—truly needs to start taking your pain seriously. Seungmin hums, still focused on the sleepy look on your face. With a sweet smile, he licks his lips and glances down at the food in his lap. “I brought you some snacks before dinner. Tea is on the table and you can take some more meds now too. They’re in the bedside drawer. Can I refill your hot water bottle for you?”

You take a glance at your stomach, noting your favorite hot pad resting over your belly. Oh, you hadn’t noticed that. It’s probably Felix’s doing. He keeps it in his room for you.

“Yes please.”

“Okay, baby.” He leans down, rubbing a sweet hand over your cheek before dropping a tender kiss to your brow. “Eat something, please? Just enough to take your painkillers. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He takes the hot water bottle, fixes you with a knowing look, and disappears back down the hallway. In the time it takes for you to finally lift the toast to your mouth, Jeongin and Hyunjin are in the doorway. You don’t get the chance to say anything before Hyunjin is crawling into the bed beside you, wiggling beneath the sheets and laying his head in your lap. He’s careful not to rest too much of his weight there, but he does rub his fingers soothingly across the faint burn marks of your abdomen where the hot pad was just resting.

“These are getting worse, baby love.” Hyunjin can tell. His forefinger hooks in the bottom of your shirt, lifting just enough so he can see your belly button. You ignore the flutter of your heart with a sigh. This kind of casual intimacy is normal for Hyunjin. The pad of his finger brushes over a particularly angry one, flushed with the heat that once rested against it. He’d known you before you had those scars, and he’s tracked their growth—worried that doctors weren’t taking you seriously when you went in with literal burn scars on your stomach from how boiling your hot water bottle was. You always said it felt better than the cramps themselves, but the notion that you preferred burning yourself against the sensation of your cramps was not lost on him. “Can I massage you a little? Or are you sensitive today?”

Chewing slowly, you hum and nod. Swallowing the bite of your toast, you whisper, “Just a little. Everything is swollen and achy today.”

“I’m sorry, lovely.” Hyunjin drops his chin to kiss beneath your belly button and rubs his thumb over the puffy, bloated bump of your stomach. If it were anyone else, perhaps you would have been insecure about that. Truly, in the past, it was an insecurity of yours—the pudge of your stomach. But you’ve known the eight of them so long that you’ve fallen in love with those parts of yourself—the ones you thought you hated. They made you love those pieces of yourself. Because you weren’t a thing to be loved in fragments. You’re a blessing to be worshipped and adored as a whole or not at all.

“I’ll be careful,” Hyunjin murmurs as he kisses your belly once more. Then his palm is resting against your hip and his other hand is gently swirling careful circles across your abdomen, feeling the swollen pieces inside of you as they cry for relief. When his thumb skates along the bottom of your belly, he makes a sad sound, almost like your pain is his own. “Oh, baby love, this feels so swollen. I’m so sorry, honey. Is there anything we can do?”

You sigh through your nose as your eyes flutter shut, trying to savor the softness of his hands and the pads of his long fingers. The hormones rushing through you in waves force a wave of salt to swell behind your eyes, forming tears quicker than you can blink.

“No.”

It comes quiet and broken, the confession. There’s nothing they can do.

And though they already knew the answer, it still sends a blow to the heart.

Jeongin drops onto the bed at your other side, silent but watching over you like he doesn’t know what to do. And he probably doesn’t. The others have taken care of everything already, so there isn’t much for Jeongin to do in terms of finding ways to take care of you.

But that somehow makes him feel worse.

Because that means there’s nothing for him to do but sit there and watch you suffer.

“Noona.” His voice cracks, and Jeongin winces. He tries to say something else but nothing comes out, and when you blink your eyes open tiredly, the look on his face is heart-wrenching.

“Innie…”

Jeongin’s mouth is curled into a frown that wrinkles his pretty features and his eyes are swimming with tears. The dark, near-black color of his irises swell with the weight of his empathy, and you swear you can feel his aching heart within your own chest.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else we can do?”

Long fingers pull worriedly at the blanket tucked beneath your hips, and you blink sleepily as Jeongin rocks closer to you. He’s not as physically affectionate as the others, but during a select few moments, you can catch him craving touch just like any of the boys. Like right now, when he’s practically pawing at your side for a sliver of your attention.

With a tiny smile, you open one arm out to the side and beckon him into your opposite side. “You can stay. That will help more than anything, Innie.”

“Okay,” he sighs swiftly, “I can do that. We can stay.”

“Thank you.”

Jeongin tucks in your soft blankets around you and dismisses your outstretched arm in favor of curling onto his side so he can pull you against him. Hyunjin makes himself comfortable in the space between your open legs, still peppering kisses and smooth, tender rubs across your abdomen like he can massage the ache away. Between them your heart swells like a balloon, and you swear any more affection from them will make it pop.

“Always, baby. We’ll be here as long as you need.”

And that’s just the thing, isn’t it? Because you’ll always need them.

But that’s okay.

Because they’ll always need you too.

“Any chance you didn’t heat that up as much as she likes?”

“No shot,” comes Seungmin’s muffled answer. “You know she likes it like this, and I’m not going to take away her only comfort right now.”

A heavy sigh.

“I know.” Someone brushes their hand along the curve of your jaw and you sigh as you lean into it exhaustedly. “It’s just… it’s burning her, you know?”

“I know, Lixie.”

Another weight sigh and a tired hum.

“I wish there was something else I could do. I hate that this is the only thing that helps.”

“Yeah, baby, me too.” A quiet smack sounds, and you can only assume that Seungmin has kissed Felix on the head. “Keep your hand there in between her and the hot pad while she’s sleeping if you want. Or the blanket if it gets too warm for you. She hopefully shouldn’t need it as much when she’s asleep.”

“Hmm.”

A weight is dropped onto your lower belly, pleasantly warm and steady. Just after, a hand is cupping the bottom of your stomach between you and the hot water bottle, and despite the pain and swelling riddling you, the warmth of Felix’s hand is somehow even better than any heating pad.

“Any word on Chan?”

“On his way back.” Seungmin grunts the words beneath his breath like they’ve personally offended him.

“Don’t give him too much shit, Minnie. He wanted to be here, you know that.”

A scoff.

“But he wasn’t.”

Felix exhales through his nose and funnels his attention into steadily rubbing the skin of your stomach to soothe you when you stir.

“Yeah. He wasn’t. But you and I both know he couldn’t get out of that. The council needed him.”

A gruff growl builds in Seungmin’s throat��a sound you’ve never heard him make. “Yeah, well, so did she.”

Yeah. You did.

The next time you wake, you’re alone in Seungmin’s bed—a strange occurrence, if you’re entirely honest. You’re not often left entirely on your own when you’re over at their dorms, especially when you’re in pain.

And, fuck, are you in pain.

The cramps have returned. Tenfold. The ache has transformed into a striking, burning, and sizzling sensation that tightens like a knot in your lower abdomen. It’s like the cord is being tugged at both ends, cinching the knot ever tighter and tighter until it feels like something within you is going to pop from all the pressure. The sheer agony spreads from your belly to your thighs and into the small of your back, and tears immediately spring to your eyes without another second to think. Your legs clench tight like springs ready to snap, and you keen off the bed as another wave of crippling agony sends you off the bed and stumbling into the bathroom like a mad woman. Muscles weak and head woozy, you nearly crumple twice on your mission to the toilet, and by the time you drop beside the toilet, still clutching your hot pad like a lifeline, you’ve already dissolved into sobs.

You don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve had any pain killers, but if you’re entirely honest, you know they won’t help. These kinds of cramps—these sharp, crippling ones that rank a nine out of ten on your pain skill (maybe even a ten if you weren’t so stubborn to admit it)—cannot be soothed by any amount of medicine. You’ve tried that. You’ve tried everything. You’ve done everything the doctors suggested. You’ve done everything the internet suggested. You tried the vitamins and the supplements and exercise and managing stress and all the other bullshit pain mitigation strategies the people on the internet tell you.

But there is no comfort to you right now, sitting on the bathroom floor, weeping, and clutching your hot water bottle to the agony in your belly like it will save you.

It won’t.

You know it won’t.

But there’s nothing else to do.

Nothing to do but weep.

So you do.

You don’t know how long you sit there.

You didn’t bring your phone, and there’s no telling any kind of semblance of time when you’re this delirious. You’ve dry heaved into the toilet thrice now, and the pain has only escalated—a feat you didn’t think possible. You’ve gone from weeping to muffling the spine-trembling sobs into your palm in an effort not to wake the boys. You don’t want comfort right now. Wait no—maybe that’s a lie. Maybe you do.

You don’t know. It’s so hard to think right now.

The pain is making you woozy.

Choking on a wave of nausea and another crippling bolt of agony in the deepest pit of your abdomen, you cough on a violent sob and sag against the wall of the bathroom. The pain is getting worse. How could it possibly get any worse? It was already a nine out of ten. How was there any room left on the scale to climb?

Then, just at the pinnacle of the worst of it, you hear him.

“Baby?”

The door to Seungmin’s room cracks open. A shuffle of feet sounds, but you’re barely listening.

“Babygirl, are you in here?”

Chan.

Chan is home.

He calls your name with that voice you love so much—the steady timber that ripples with the weight of his adoration. You love his voice. You love his laugh. Fuck, you wish the sound of his laugh could soothe your agony right now. But you can’t answer him. Maybe you don’t want to. Maybe you’re still mad at him for this morning. Or maybe you just can’t. The pain is just too much. The words won’t build on your tongue. They’re right there, waiting in the back of your throat, but there is no strength left in your body to push them forward.

So you do nothing.

You sit there, weeping through another wave of agony and praying to anyone that will listen, that the pain will stop soon. Stop, you beg silently. Stop, just please stop. I’ll do anything.

“Baby?”

Chan’s voice changes. The lull of his almost guilt-ridden tone warps to something quieter. Something worried. The thumping of feet enter the carpeted bedroom, and the door swings open against the wall softly.

“Baby?”

He almost exclaims it, despite his voice not raising above a frantic whisper. Chan never shouts. Not at you. Not at his members. He doesn’t need to raise his voice to get his point across. A silent, frantic realization must reach Chan then, because there’s muffled footsteps headed for the bathroom door, and you have the semblance to thank yourself for remembering to lock it. A dull knock sounds in the ensuite bathroom, but you don’t answer. You just sit back against the wall, sweat building at your brow and staining the fabric of your shirt. Trembling sickly, you clench your fists and try with all your might to loosen the muscles you’ve locked lest you pass out. You feel disgusting. And pathetic. Fuck, you wish you would stop crying. Snot is dripping from your nose from the weight of your sobs and your hair is mussed in ten different directions from running your fingers through it and seizing the strands in your fists. You must look like a mess.

“Love, if you’re in there, please answer me.”

Nothing.

“Please, baby, I’m worried about you. The boys told me what happened and I need to know you’re okay.”

You exhale through your nose and try to unlock the permanent wince that has screwed your face into an expression of agony. You want to answer him. Truly you do. There’s nothing you want more. You don’t care about him missing your appointment anymore. Well, maybe you do. Fuck, you can’t think right now.

You just want him.

But you can’t reach up to unlock the door. That would mean having to move, and it hurts so badly you think your jaw might crack from how tightly you’ve locked it.

A muffled thump on the other side of the wooden door sounds and feet shuffle. Chan is resting his head against it. A heavy sigh follows.

“My love,” he sighs softly, ignoring the rolling in his stomach. “Can you at least let me know you’re in there?”

Chan rocks on his feet again, trying to abate the anxiety eating at the pit of his gut. He swallows once in an attempt to quell the lump in his throat, but it does nothing. He just got home a few minutes ago: ten to midnight. Yeah, he knows it’s late. He knows he should have been home sooner. Especially when you needed him. But what could he do? When the council calls, he’s expected to answer. The lives of his clan are at stake. So Bang Chan, leader of his abnormal coven, left you alone that morning. Like an absolute asshole. And now he’s come home to an empty room and a pit of worry in his stomach so deep he thinks it’s making a home in his gut.

And he can smell your pain.

It’s coming in waves. Seungmin told him they left you to rest after they managed to feed you most of your dinner, give you a few more painkillers, and tucked you in his fresh sheets with Felix clinging to your side. Said abnormal vampire left the bed an hour ago when the smell of your agony finally overwhelmed his empathic powers. The innate sense of your pain made him hurt so terribly he had to leave.

Now Chan is here: in an empty room, hovering outside the bathroom door, and praying to whatever god cursed him with immortality to unlock the knob.

“Baby, please. You can be mad at me if you want. You can yell at me and scold me and shout, but I need to know you’re alright. Please tell me you’re alright.”

You wouldn’t do that. Sure, you can hold a grudge, but you try your best to communicate your issues before it comes to shouting. You’re a work in progress, but isn’t everyone?

As another wave of pain sears through you like a strike of lightning, and you choke on a loud sob. It escapes you this time in the form of a pained moan—not the right answer.

“Fuck, angel? Baby, is that you?”

“Chr—” Your voice cracks, fading to nothing.

A thump against the door, frantic now.

“Honey?”

You sag against the wall, feeling both cold and all too hot at once.

“Answer me, honey, please. I won’t come in unless you let me, but I’m getting really concerned here, baby.”

“Chris…”

And that’s when Chan knows everything is all wrong. You never call him Chris. Not unless something’s wrong.

“Babygirl? Sweetheart? Are you okay?”

“No,” you weep, sobbing into your clenched fist. “Hurts so bad, Chris.”

“Oh, my girl, I’m so sorry, honey. I’m sorry it hurts,” Chan’s forehead thumps against the door again, and he clenches his fist around the door knob, wondering what you would do if he used a tiny semblance of his supernatural strength to break it open. It’s an invasion of your privacy, he knows, but fuck, he needs to see you. He needs to know you’re going to be okay. “Can you open the door f’me, baby? I can’t help you from here.”

“Can’t help anyway,” comes your sighed admission.

“I can try.”

You sigh and feel your eyelids flutter shut against your will. Head sagging back against the wall, you try to unlock your clenched legs, but it’s no use. Muttering echoes beyond the bathroom door, but you can’t make it out. Thumping your head back, the room spins in and out of focus and your heart pulses an angry rhythm in your eardrums. You taste spit building on your tongue and your breath comes quicker.

“Please let me try…”

Smacking your dry lips together, you ignore the taste of bile on your tongue and shake your head tiredly. You don’t want him to see you. Not like this. Not gross and sweaty and weeping and pathetic.

You don’t want him to pity you.

The room spins. You don’t realize how long it’s been since you answered Chan.

“Baby, baby!”

You barely hear him. Everything is kind of muted now. It’s hard to tell if Chan is outside the door or if he’s three rooms over.

“Minho! Min, get in here! Now!”

Heavy footsteps thump throughout the house. A door hits the wall of the hallway and then another slams open.

“Baby, do not pass out.”

The order is redundant. You already know. You’ve been trying not to for hours now.

“Minho!”

The shouting comes again, frantic and bellowing. It echoes through the house like a crack of thunder. Chan is panicking.

And you take it back. Maybe Chan can shout. All it takes is the right circumstances.

“Do not pass out, baby.”

You try not to. You try so hard not to. You just want the agony to end. You want it to stop so you can sleep. You just want to sleep.

“Baby, what can I do?”

You shake your head, willing the tears dripping down your cheeks to stop. You hate this. You despise it. You want it to stop. The cramps, the hot-flashes, the sweat, the tears, the nausea—all of it. You just want it to stop.

Chan strokes his hand across the frame of the door, feeling his heart clench horribly beneath his ribs. It’s crying—his heart is. It’s weeping for you, desperately wishing it could do something to stop this pain. In the next second, the door to Seungmin’s bedroom slams against the wall, no concern for the drywall behind it, then Minho is standing there with Changbin at his back and Hyunjin to his side. They stand in the doorway, dark eyes almost glowing and hands splintering the wood from how tight he’s clutching it. He doesn’t know what to do. His un-beating heart is cracking within its bony cage, yet Minho can do nothing.

“Sweetheart?”

That’s Minho’s voice. Minho, the steady ground beneath your feet. Minho, the gravity binding you to the earth.

“Min?”

You don’t know why you say it. You know it’s him.

“Yeah, ‘S me, pretty girl. Binnie’s here too. And Hyunjin.”

“Hmm.”

Minho exchanges a look with Chan, and a knowing bolt of worry strikes through their chests.

“Why did you lock the door, baby love?”

Hyunjin this time. No one else calls you that.

You shudder through a terrible cramp, but you think they’re coming slower now. They don’t paralyze you like the ones before. Exhaling through your nose and trying to relax, you hum, “‘M gross, Jinnie. Don’t want you to see me.”

“Now that’s just bullshit.”

“Bin—!”

“You’ve never been gross in all the years we’ve known you, bun,” Changbin continues, ignoring the interruption. “We’ve seen you sweaty and crying and when you had food poisoning last year and couldn’t leave the bathroom floor for more then ten minutes. And you’ve never been gross. You’ve always just been you.”

Another wave of tears swells behind your eyes with a steady pressure. You’re forced to cover your mouth to muffle the sound of your sobs. Heart aching in tandem with your abdomen, you shiver and crawl closer to the doorway to stare weakly up at the handle like it’s personally offended you.

“What can we do, my heart?” Hyunjin begs. “Please don’t suffer alone in there. We want to help, even if it’s just to hold your hand while you cry.”

Please don’t make us listen to you cry, he doesn’t finish. The sound of your muffled sobs is killing him. His enhanced hearing can’t tune them out. He hears every single one, no matter how desperately you try to cover them with your palms. Please don’t make us listen to you suffer.

What can they do?

How can they fix this?

“I was so scared, Channie.” The words come out muffled into your fist as they begin spilling off your tongue like water burst from a dam. “I needed you there with me. But I think I was too selfish. I shouldn’t expect you to drop everything f’me, ‘m sorry.”

If his heart hurt before, Chan cannot describe the crack that just cleaved through it.

“No, baby, no.” His voice comes out quick and desperate and raw with the weight of his own tears. “You can—you can depend on me, okay? I don’t care if I have to drop everything important to be there for you, I want to always be there.”

“Chan—”

But he’s rambling now, and he cannot be stopped.

“I want to take you to your doctor’s appointments and scold them for not taking your concerns seriously. I want to remind you to take your meds on time, and I want to watch you fall asleep in my car on the way home while the boys whisper in the backseat. I want to be there for you when you’re crying and in pain because it hurts—it physically hurts to hear you like this, babygirl.”

You let out a weak sound that makes Chan sick.

“I want to hold your hand when you’re scared, and I want you to squeeze it as tight as you can when your cramps are too much. I want to wipe away your tears and let you stain my shirt when you cry. I want to clean the sweat from your brow even when you try to stop me because you think it’s gross. I want those things. I want to take care of you. I want you.”

“Then why weren’t you there?”

It comes out muffled and quiet, as if you didn’t mean to say it at all.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Chan swallows back the lump in his throat. He tries to say something, but all that comes out is a mournful sound.

“I know, I’m sorry, baby girl. I’m so sorry. I should have been there. I should have been.”

Another sob rolls through you, heavy and gut-wrenching. Chan feels another crack of his heart splinter, and suddenly he cannot take it anymore.

“Please open the door, my girl. Please.” His forehead thumps against the wood again like it will connect him to you. He feels someone lay a warm palm across his spine—probably Changbin—he’s always there when Chan needs him. “Please let me help, baby. Let me see you.”

You swallow back a swell of nausea and cling to the toilet seat, terrified that the second you move, you’ll vomit. Thighs throbbing with the tremendous wave of agony in your belly, you let out a choked sound. You just want it to stop: the cramps, the nausea, the hot flashes, the agony—you want everything to stop. Why won’t it just stop?

He knocks his head against the door again and tightens his grip on the doorknob.

“Baby…”

“Channie…”

“Open the door, my love. Shout at me, scold me, hate me, just let me in.” He swallows, trying to soothe the clenching of his heart. “I’ll explain everything, just let me be there for you now.”

You exhale, blinking away the salt in your eyes and clutching the hot pad to your stomach. Another cramp takes you hostage, seizing in your gut and radiating down your legs and into your back. Clenching your eyes shut, you muffle the weak sound that almost leaves you. It’s all too much. You’re in so much pain and you’re so tired and you can’t even be mad at Chan anymore.

You just want him to hug you and tell you everything’s going to be alright. Even if it isn’t.

You just need him.

The lock clicks.

“So you’re a vampire?”

A muffled snort echoes above your head.

“Not quite.”

Burying your head deeper into Chan’s chest, you palm the thick muscle above his heart and feel it beat under your hand. Still flesh and bone and all Chan. He smells just like he always has—like expensive cologne and something you can never quite replicate. And he feels like he always has too. Blood still pumps beneath his skin and his cheeks still flush when he’s shy. That couldn’t be a vampiric quality, could it?

“Then what are you?” you breathe into his collarbone, smiling when he shivers. The cramps have slowed to a quiet null thanks to the pain killers from Jinnie and the tea from Felix. Seungmin reheated your bottle and placed it on your belly, but made you promise to let him sit there and make sure it isn’t too warm against your skin. You don’t care; you’re just happy he wants to cuddle.

“A hybrid, actually.”

“Half vampire, half…?”

“Werewolf.”

You grin and Chan feels it against the skin of his throat.

“Don’t say it.”

You giggle quietly, feeling loopy from the lack of sleep now that the pain has tempered. “I wasn’t going to.”

Chan pinches your hip. “You were thinking about it.”

“Oh, so you can read my mind now? Is that one of your freaky supernatural powers too?”

“No, that’s mine,” comes Seungmin’s rebuttal, murmured into the space above your hip. You drop your hand into his dark hair and begin idly scratching at his scalp, listening to him purr. The sound vibrates into your lungs and you can feel it soothing the ache from within. You wonder if you’re just imagining that.

“Okay, so reading minds is a thing. That’s cool,” you feign, terribly nonchalant about the whole thing. “And the purring?”

“Anyone part vamp can do that.”

You knock your head back to blink up at Jisung, who deposits another fresh cup of raspberry leaf tea on the coaster on the side table. Before he leaves, he rubs his forefingers across your jaw and pulls your cheek towards him so he can kiss your temple.

“Thanks, Sungie.”

“Of course, baby.”

“So you were smelling that I was in pain this whole time?” You whisper tiredly. “That’s how you always know what I need?”

Minho snorts as he shakes his head. “No, sweetheart, we just know you that well.”

“But yes,” Hyunjin interrupts, “we can sense that you’re in pain. But it’s not always a ‘smell’ thing. It’s just…”

“A you thing.”

You tilt your head back up to look at Chan. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just a you thing,” he reiterates. “We know what you’re feeling and what you need because we innately react to you. There’s an intrinsic connection binding us together.”

“Oh. That’s cool.”

Someone snorts.

Minho rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face is undeniable. “You are something else, sweetheart.”

“You know you’re awfully nonchalant about this…” Felix raises one eyebrow across the room as he snuggles Jeongin on the couch. “Should we be concerned, or…?”

Shaking your head and burying your nose into Chan’s collarbone, you sigh with a smile. “No, I think I’m a little loopy, honestly. We might have to have this conversation again in the morning.”

Chan chuckles, and you feel it reverberate through his chest where it’s pressed against yours. He drags his palm over your hip, petting softly as he kisses your brow again. He’s been doing that since he managed to get you into his arms. They all have, really. The kisses have been shared quick and easily between the nine of you without any ceremonious discussion. It all sort of just… happened. Minho kisses Jisung on the corner of his mouth and no one says a word. Felix drops a peck to Jeongin’s temple and Hyunjin kisses Changbin directly on the mouth, but it’s not strange. It feels like it was always meant to be this way. Maybe it always was and you just hadn’t noticed.

“Okay, baby,” Chan chuckles, stroking a hand down your spine. “We can talk about this again in the morning.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce, already halfway into dreamland. “Love you, Channie.”

“I love you too, baby.” He kisses your nose and the bow of your mouth with a tenderness you cannot fathom deserving. “Let’s talk in the morning.”

“Mhm.”

You fumble for Seungmin’s wrist with your eyes closed and tug his hand into your heart so you can keep him there. He puffs a breath of air through his nose silently and strokes his hand over your breastbone. Kissing the nape of your neck quickly, he murmurs his goodnight and listens to your thoughts as they trail into comfortable silence.

“What a soulmate we ended up with, hm?”

Felix grins as your serenity casts a divine warmth into the marrow of his bones. “You can say that twice.”

“I’m just glad it’s her.”

“Me too, Chan,” Minho whispers. “Me too.”

bonus:

the council: make a choice, bang chan. us or the read—

chan: reader.

the council: ...

the council: sorry, we didn't finish. us or the re—

chan: reader.

a/n: hi! I'm alive!! I hope you guys enjoyed this ramble that isn't really my usual coherent fic, but it's kind of just a rant at this point about my own experience with periods and the health care industry :") it might be a little too much for some ppl or weird, but it was honestly kind of just a comfort thing for me so I wrote it anyway :D

also! had quite a few ppl calling the reader in raspberry leaves "dramatic" and saying I was making a "big deal" out of periods cause they aren't that bad, and I wanted to clarify that 1. not all cycles are the same! It's great that your symptoms don't bother you much! that's how it's supposed to be! but unfortunately, not all women's (to uterus having persons') bodies are the same, and to some of our great misfortunes, some of us have symptoms on our periods that are debilitating (like cannot move from the bed debilitating). this is not normal, and if you are experiencing this (or even just experiencing a life where you have to plan your time around your cycle bc of extreme symptoms), you should try to see a doctor. and take it from me, it will probably be super frustrating to get answers or even be heard out by some doctors, but it is not normal to be in this much pain, and you should speak to someone about it. Do not let people downplay your pain. also 2. this is fan fiction and I like to be dramatic, so sue me xD

anyway sorry for the rant. I hope you enjoyed! I'll be answering my messages soon so thank you guys for all the love <33

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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 1 month ago

Text

I just love minsung man 🤤😫

“maybe we need to warm you up from the inside…?”

minsung x f!reader word count: 2.7k genre: smut, one-shot, bit of crack, friends to... idk summary: han and lee know 'warm you up' by a hotel rooftop pool when you can't find your towel. an: they all kinda switch dynamics half way through soooo get ready for sub!han again i guess (yes at this point it's a must) warnings: unprotected sex ⋆ dry humping ⋆ threesome ⋆ kissing ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ (self) edging ⋆ oral (m) ⋆ degradation ⋆ dom/sub dynamics ⋆ switch!reader, switch!lee know, switch!han ⋆ anal sex ⋆

~ ~ ~

“it’s getting late, han… maybe after lee know comes back we should leave too?” the rooftop hotel pool you’re in was busy just moments ago and now it’s empty, apart from you and han.

he wraps his arms around your waist like he’s worried you’ll rush off any second now.

“what? why? we literally have the whole pool to ourselves now that everyone’s left!” he sounds like an excited kid when the teacher leaves the classroom– but his enthusiasm is enough to convince you.

“fine, we’ll stay a little longer since you want to so much.” you agree, leaning against his chest in the water.

there’s soft classical music playing from somewhere and the mood feels almost romantic now with just the two of you in the pool lit up by the moonlight. you know you’re probably just imagining it but you smile at the thought anyway.

you wade to the edge of the pool, dragging han with you, as you see minho coming back.

“hmm? where’d everyone go? the pool doesn’t close for another hour…” lee know sounds surprised as he hands you and han your drinks.

“yeah, it’s weird isn’t it?” you sigh, leaning back onto the side of the pool and adjusting your bikini strap.

the silence stretches out a little too long as the two of them watch you fiddling with the strap, their gazes lingering on the way your breasts unintentionally bounce slightly.

“mhm… how about we sit up there and drink?” lee know suggests, pointing to the deck chairs.

you’re wearing a white, two piece swimsuit with a short flowy skirt attached to the lower part. you know you look good like this, and you know because of how han’s been eyeing you since a while ago. and with the moonlight hitting your skin and highlighting your features, it’s hard for him to look away, despite the two of you being good friends– nothing more.

you catch han’s gaze as you step out of the pool, and he avoids eye contact immediately, like he’s been caught doing something bad.

the two of them choose to sit on either side of you so you make yourself comfortable on the wooden deck chair between.

“it’s gotten cooler…” you say quietly- to no one in particular. they both hum in agreement and you reach for your towel. only, your towel, that you’re sure you left sitting right here, has disappeared.

“my towel! ugh, the staff must have taken it.” you huff, entirely unaware of what had really happened.

“oh no– and you said you were cold, right?” han takes your hand in his and starts rubbing it in an attempt to warm you up.

“but you know what the best way to warm up in an emergency is?” lee kow quizzes, turning to face you.

you shiver and roll your eyes. “like running or something?”

“skin to skin contact! come on, that was so obvious.” jisung corrects.

“what, so you’re saying you’ll hug me just to avoid getting up to ask for a towel? wow, what a gentleman, sungie.”

“sounds good to me”, he says and your eyes widen as he easily lifts you up by the waist and onto his lap.

“really?” you scoff before giving in and making yourself comfortable on him. lee know lets out a chuckle watching both of you as he sips his drink.

“jealous, hyung?”

lee know looks back at you before letting out an amused hum.

your chin’s resting on han’s shoulder; his arms wrap around your waist and you shiver as he runs his fingers along your back, almost teasingly. and then you feel the pressure around your chest suddenly release. your bikini– you realize he’s undone the clasp.

“han, what the fuck–!”

“i heard that wearing wet clothing cools you down too~”

lee know doesn’t say anything and just watches calmly from the other side. it's as if he knew this was going to happen.

you hurry to re-do the clasp, reaching behind your back. but as your arms lift up, the strap slides down, accidentally exposing more of your chest– right in front of han’s face. “-shit”, you mutter, struggling to cover yourself.

han doesn’t even try to look away or play it off– having been the culprit for this situation. instead, he holds your arms in place, stopping you from moving. you whip your head up to look at him, before hissing, “what are you even doing, han??”

you glare at him for a moment, then you properly take in your situation; you’re sat on your friend’s lap, almost topless, arms pinned behind your back and sitting by a hotel swimming pool where anyone could come in and see you. you feel your face heat up as han meets your (angry) gaze.

“fuck– let go, han- or i’ll actually kill you”

he’s holding your wrists together firmly with one hand as you use all the strength you have to remove them from his grip. you're about to threaten him again but then he reaches up to cup your cheek– the last thing you expect him to do.

“you look so perfect like this”, he says it like a fact and smirks before adding, “sitting all pretty on me”.

your stomach flips– this isn’t the usual easy-going, sweet han you know.

“don’t say it like that…” you say into his shoulder– an attempt to hide your face as you feel it betray you and blush.

“like what?” he says, running his fingers over your collarbone. you shiver and he definitely notices.

“like you’re… thinking about something else”, you let out under your breath.

then warm hands slide over your bare shoulders from behind. “oh? so what about me, sweetheart? were you both just going to do this whole thing without me?” lee know pouts in fake offence.

“what– no, i mean– there’s nothing”, you stutter, turning redder, “this is nothing.”

“well, if this is nothing, then… this”, he tugs your bikini down a little more, “-could come off and it wouldn’t mean a thing, would it?”

and before you can reply, your bikini is entirely pulled off; the wet material sliding off your skin easily. you gasp and your body jerks when you tug against the hold on your wrists- trying to cover yourself. and han’s eyes only widen as your breasts bounce just inches away from touching his chest.

“gosh, baby, you’re unreal–”, han lets out, staring up at you, “can i… touch you? to- to keep you warm, obviously.”

for a brief moment you almost let him– the words barely held back as you remind yourself you have the self control to not give in just yet.

“lee know, han– did you plan this?”, you pause in disbelief, “did you really plan for us to be here alone just to… have me like this?”

“does it really matter?” lee know says from behind, “you want this too, right?” he slides his hands lower, pausing a moment before tracing lightly over your breasts.

“i mean…” you hesitate, unsure, before glancing down at han, “i have… thought about this sort of thing before i guess– a few times.”

“and what exactly did you think about?” he starts massaging around your nipples as han lets his hand stroke over your thigh.

you try not to be distracted before answering“i um, just had a few thoughts.”

han pouts. “come on, tell us. we’ll make it come true.”

“well, one time… i imagined, um… lee know under me– and you were… making out with him.” you look down, your face burning– regretting everything you just confessed.

“awh, so it was hyung in you, not me?” han teases as he slides a hand between your legs. “am i not good enough? did you not like the look of it that time in the shower?”

“shower? did you both fuck already?” lee know asks– a hint of disappointment in his tone.

“what, no!” you say, glaring at han. “it was an accident– i saw him because he didn't lock the door”, you clarify and lee know visibly relaxes before he pushes you down onto han.

“lee know! you could be a bit more… gentle…” you try to complain but the words die in your mouth when you feel his tongue on the back of your neck, followed by open-mouthed kisses trailing down your spine.

“fuck-”, you gasp as he sucks into the skin.

your breathing’s gotten heavy and the wetness in between your thighs only gets worse when you feel han’s bulge pressing against you. It’s like your brain’s stopped functioning– you don’t even feel like yourself anymore.

little sparks of pleasure shoot through your head as han grinds into you from below. his face scrunches a little when you twitch involuntarily on him.

all of a sudden, fingers grip the hair at the base of your scalp and pull your head back roughly; your eyes glassing over a little as your head is pulled down to face the blurry night sky. but that view doesn’t last long when lee know’s face hovers over yours. you try to reach up to him, forgetting that your hands are being held behind you. all you can do is watch him stare down at your pathetic, helpless state as he cups your jaw and presses a finger to your lips.

“open up”

you do as you’re told and take his finger in your mouth, gasping around it every so often when han grinds against your clit harder.

“such a slut aren’t you? pretending you’re so innocent all this time when really you get like this before you've even taken a cock.” lee know breathes into your ear as he pinches your tongue, pulling it out slightly.

“all this because you said you were cold”, he pulls you into him more, “so spoiled with both of us helping you warm up~”

“is it working?” he asks, not expecting an answer but you nod anyway, “but your cheeks are still so red!” he teases, “maybe we need to warm you up from the inside…?”

you try to say something but with lee know’s fingers stopping you, all that comes out is an unintelligible sound; making him smirk before letting go of your tongue– only to replace it with his lips; exploring the inside of your mouth like he’s trying to memorize every part of it. he sucks softly on your tongue, letting your saliva drip down onto han’s shirt. han– who’s been grinding into you and, you haven’t noticed but, he’s been deliberately edging himself; like he’s trying to draw out the pleasure.

“fuck– nngh ‘m gonna cum” he whines dragging his hips against you weakly a few more times.

“hannie’s gonna cum in his pants?” lee know hums, teasing and briefly pulling away from your lips, “cum then, show me how good she feels, baby”

you feel his cock twitch underneath and watch his whole body tremble– it’s mesmerizing. and as much as you’d like to sit and admire his fucked out state you can’t ignore the pulsing heat between your legs and the tense anticipation of your body from how close you were. you’ve been on edge this whole time as well and seeing han come so hard is sending you too.

his body falls limp, muscles relaxing. but you’re not finished with him– not yet. there’s no way you can leave him alone when he’s in this flushed, post-orgasm state– so pretty, you could milk him dry… so that’s exactly what you decide to do.

you sit back, leaning into lee know as you look up at him sweetly, eyes wide and hopeful. “i’m getting tired lee know… but i want hannie’s cock in me~” han’s mouth falls open hearing you.

“i don’t think he’s recovered yet, darling” lee know frowns, trying to figure out what you’re implying “you know you can have my cock, right?” he says, placing your hand over his bulge.

you stroke him a few times before saying, “mhm, but i want han’s cock”, you glance at han’s panicked face, “he just looks so perfect like this– i wanna cum all over him… you’d help get him ready for me, wouldn’t you? and i’ll let you fuck me as much as you want after as a reward~”

“ah, so you just want to watch me get him off, hmm?” he asks and you nod a little shyly before settling down on the chair opposite.

“any requests?” he asks, in between kisses to han’s neck as he cages him in with his arms to the deckchair.

“i want to see you suck him off”, you reply, almost immediately. lee know doesn’t say anything as he starts palming han’s half-hard cock through his pants making him let out a loud groan that turns into a whimper at the end. lee know takes off han’s boxers before leaning down to lightly kiss along his cock.

“-ah, mmh ‘s too much…!”

lee know’s being so gentle but you can tell the sensitivity’s getting to han.

lee know hums in sympathy but still takes him deeper in his mouth; his pretty lips stretching around him in a way you just can’t make yourself look away.

han trembles and whines fall from his lips. “hyung- ah- your mouth’s so hot– ‘s too good. feels so good…!”

his abs visibly tighten and he reaches down to tug at lee know’s hair. “can i have a kiss? …please? wan’ kiss you–”

lee know ignores han like he didn’t even hear his begging. but seeing how red his ears are makes it clear he’s not unaffected. “i think he’s close now… but you don’t want him to cum yet, right?” he checks, looking up at you, a string of saliva on his lip still connected to han’s cock.

“mhm~ and you did such a good job getting him ready for me ♡” you say, rolling onto your stomach.

“sungie, i'm getting cold again~ won’t you come fill me up?” you ask sweetly, reaching behind to spread your ass for him to see how much you’re dripping.

he doesn’t even hesitate before gripping your hips, slamming deep into your cunt all at once; you swear you see stars for a second.

“fuck- thank you, thank you– needed this so– so bad” he ruts into you desperately, like you’ll stop him any moment now.

you let out a moan you can’t hold back; breathless as han pounds into you from behind but then– he stops with a gasp, putting more of his weight on you.

“han, what’s wrong?”

that’s when you notice lee know standing above han, and– judging by the twitches of han’s cock– you realize another part of him must be getting attention too.

“sorry baby, this hole just looked so empty~” you hear lee know say to han.

"-and this way we'll all be warm~"

and before you know it, lee know’s fucking into han– the force of each thrust pushing han’s cock deeper into you.

~ ~ ~

you don’t know how long you spent fucking together but after all of it, the three of you are now relaxing in your hotel room’s private spa bath.

“i think han won’t be walking for a while now” you giggle when you trail your fingers up his thigh in the water and the muscle twitches.

“ah! stop it already! and don’t say it like this isn’t your fault”

“mm but is it really?” you tease, “no one told you to edge yourself.”

he opens his mouth to fight back but instead jumps toward you in shock. you look over accusingly at lee know when you see through the water his fingers move away from han’s ass.

“what? the cum was leaking out–” lee know says like it’s the most normal thing in the world when he sees your expression.

“ahh just leave me alone~” han wails as he escapes to your side.

lee know moves up beside him again. “you weren't saying that half an hour ago~”

han whines as he's reminded of his sore cock, “i swear i was possessed then!”

you snort, “we all were.”

“then i hope we get possessed again soon”, lee know says, pulling han into him when he tries to escape.

653 notes · View notes

whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 1 month ago

Text

OHOHO BURN BUT SO GOOD RAGHHH

Off Limits - Seo Changbin

summary: he confesses his feelings to you but you hesitate given your age difference— and after weeks of hidden feelings and secret pining you start secretly dating, sharing soft, private moments away from the spotlight

pairing: seo changbin x noona!reader

genre: angst, comfort, fluff, forbidden romance trope

word count: 5287 words

a/n: this is based on this request, the reader is almost a decade older than him, this one's for the noonas <3

Masterlist

*images are taken from pinterest*

~°~

The job came with a thick NDA, multiple rounds of interviews, and a rule so ironclad it was printed at the top of every email:

Interactions with artists must remain strictly professional — no exceptions.

It was rule number one to stay professional. Always.

“No texting, no hanging out after hours, no dating — especially that last one,” your supervisor had said during your final onboarding session.

Your age, your experience, your grounded maturity were what made you a perfect candidate. You were supposed to be the steady one. The invisible support staff who got things done and kept boundaries.

So when you signed the contract, you didn’t even flinch. Because really, what was there to worry about?

They were idols — loud, talented, charming and young. Nearly a decade younger than you in some cases. You thought this would be easy. You’d seen enough of the industry to be unaffected. You were mature and too smart to even consider crossing a line. That’s what they liked about you. That’s why they hired you.

So you smiled and promised, “Of course. I’m here to work.”

And for a while, that was true. You became a ghost in the background like a quiet machine that made things run smoothly. Flights, rehearsals, call sheets, wardrobe runs — you were everywhere and nowhere.

The boys were all kind and respectful, just as polished offstage as they were onstage. Every interaction was warm but brief consisting of a polite bow, a quick thank you, a shared laugh during group meals before everyone snapped back into work mode.

You liked that. The routine. The mutual respect. No one crossed lines. You were part of every successful show, every last-minute disaster averted. You saw it all.

And unbeknownst to you, Changbin saw you.

He noticed how you always had everything ready before anyone asked. How you moved like clockwork, fixing problems before they became problems. How you never looked at him the way fans or even staff sometimes did — never starstruck, never flustered. Just… calm. Distant. Professional.

Maybe it was the distance that pulled him in.

He started slowly. Nothing obvious. Just enough to inch his way into your radar.

Lingering a little longer after rehearsals. Offering you his coffee instead of the manager. Throwing jokes your way when you passed by, pretending it wasn’t for your laugh. At first, you thought he was just friendly — he was like that with everyone.

He was always respectful, polite. Always smiling. He offered to carry heavy bags when he didn’t need to.

But then he started saying things like, “You didn’t eat again, did you?” or “Don’t overwork yourself, noona. I can tell when you’re pushing too hard.”

And that’s when you started noticing him.

The way his voice dropped when he spoke directly to you. The way his smile softened when you were nearby. The way your heart started skipping the tiniest beat whenever he looked your way.

You told yourself it was nothing. It was just a silly little crush. A fleeting moment of warmth in an otherwise exhausting job. He was just… sweet, observant and thoughtful.

And way too young.

So you buried it under professionalism. For weeks, months — you reminded yourself of the rules every day.

You kept your distance. Avoided lingering in his space. Laughed a little less. Held your clipboard a little tighter. Pretended it didn’t sting when he looked disappointed.

But Changbin wasn’t playing games. And he didn’t back down.

It was your name he said first when he walked into a room. Your opinion he asked when choosing outfits. Your face he sought out in the crowd after each show, eyes scanning until he found your small nod of approval.

You weren’t supposed to matter like that.

You tried to logic your way out of it.

It’s just admiration. You’re older. He wouldn’t fall for you. Don’t be that staff member. Don’t ruin this.

But the feelings crept in anyway. And the more you pushed them down, the more impossible they became to ignore.

*****************

On the other hand, Changbin was suffering.

Every word you said, every laugh that passed your lips, made him spiral just a little more. He’d liked you since the first time you scolded him gently for not sleeping enough—voice stern, but hands fussing over him like he mattered. Like someone had to care.

He was used to being looked up to — respected, admired, even babied by fans and teammates. But around you? He forgot how to talk. Forgot how to be. He turned into a blushing, nervous, walking contradiction. All muscle and swagger in front of cameras, but a blushing, breathless boy when you glanced his way.

He forgot how to be cool. Forgot how to form full sentences. Once, he dropped his protein bar because your hand brushed his wrist while passing him a note.

So when you’d started avoiding him like the plague — subtly at first — like skipping out of rooms a few seconds earlier. Passing off tasks involving him to someone else. Rewriting schedules just to make sure your paths didn’t cross too much.

He noticed

He wasn’t stupid, he noticed the way your laughter stopped when he entered the room. The way your tone shifted from warm to clipped. The way you never quite met his eyes anymore, as if you were afraid of what they might give away — or what they might see reflected in his.

And it hurt.

He didn’t know what he’d done wrong, only that every inch you put between the two of you felt like a punishment he hadn’t earned. He’d stay up wondering if he imagined it all, the tension, the glances, the comfort he felt around you.

It was like every time he thought he was getting closer, you slipped further out of reach.

But no. That couldn’t be right.

He felt it. It was real. It had to be. And if he didn’t say something soon, he was afraid his heart wouldn’t survive the back and forth.

He was done waiting. Done wondering.

Because you made him feel things he never expected to feel — not in a world built on cameras and contracts. And no rule in the world could change that.

*****************

The next day, the studio was buzzing with post-recording chaos. You were crouched in a corner of the studio, scribbling notes and finalizing the van routes for tomorrow’s shoot. The room was loud with movement — the members packing up, cords being wrapped, conversations overlapping.

You felt him before you saw him. That weight in the air. The way your body tensed out of instinct.

“Hey,” Changbin said, stepping close, voice low and hesitant. “How are you?”

You glanced up briefly. “Fine.”

He blinked. “Just fine?”

You nodded, eyes dropping back to your clipboard. “Tired. Hectic day.”

There was a pause. Not a heavy one, just long enough to notice.

“…Are you avoiding me?”

Your fingers froze over the page.

You forced a scoff. “What? No.”

But you didn’t look at him.

He took a small step closer. “You haven’t talked to me all week unless you had to.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“You always made time—before.”

You looked up then, a little sharper than you meant to. “Changbin, don’t make this a thing.”

“It is a thing,” he said quietly, hurt threaded through his voice. “You won’t even meet my eyes anymore. I don’t know how to get through to you anymore.”

Your throat tightened. “I’m just trying to keep things professional.”

“You didn’t seem to mind when we were laughing backstage last month. When you brought me snacks because you knew I skipped dinner. When you stayed behind during soundcheck just to fix my in-ear volume—”

“That was work,” you cut in.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “No, it wasn’t. Not all of it.”

Before you could answer — before you could run — a voice called across the room.

“Binnie!”

Chan called him, he was holding up a clipboard. “Let’s go over this one last time.”

Changbin looked torn, still staring at you. His jaw clenched. His shoulders set.

But after a beat, he stepped back. “I’ll find you later.”

And then he walked away. You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, gathered your stuff and left the room.

*****************

Later that night, the building was nearly empty. Your desk was dimly lit by the last tired glow of your monitor, the silence broken only by the hum of the vending machine down the hall and the scratch of your pen checking off final tasks.

You shut your laptop and slipped into your coat, bag already slung over your shoulder, ready to go home. Your mind was still replaying the conversation from earlier today, you let out a sigh. You were glad this day was over.

But when you opened your office door, you nearly collided with him.

Leaning against the wall outside your office, hoodie pulled up, hands in his pockets — like he’d been waiting.

You stopped. “Changbin…”

“I said I’d find you.”

His expression wasn’t playful or bold. It was tired. Like he’d been carrying something too heavy for too long.

You stepped out, pulling your coat tighter, already too tired for this.

“If this is about earlier—”

“It is,” he said firmly. “It’s about everything. You avoiding me. The way you shut me out. The way you keep pretending we’re nothing. That this is nothing. You think I haven’t noticed?”

You exhaled harshly. “Changbin, stop.”

“No. I’m done stopping.” His voice cracked slightly, but his stare didn’t waver. “I’m done pretending.”

You froze. “Changbin…”

“I like you. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t.”

You closed your eyes. “You’re not supposed to say that—”

“No. Just listen.”

He stepped forward, close enough for you to hear the catch in his breath.

“I’ve liked you for months. Every time you laugh, every time you scold me for skipping meals, every stupid thing I do just to get a smile out of you… it’s real for me.”

You shook your head, voice shaking. “Are you out of your mind?! You’re— you’re almost a decade younger than me.”

“So what?” he shot back, eyes flashing. “It’s not like we met when I was eighteen! I’m twenty-five, for god’s sake. Do you think I don’t know what I want?”

You gaped at him, stunned by the intensity in his voice.

“I know who I am. I know how I feel. And I know that every time you walk into a room and pretend we’re nothing, it fucking hurts.”

You shook your head and tried to walk past. “This isn’t the time.”

He moved to block you — not aggressively, just enough to make you look at him.

You clenched your jaw. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” he demanded.

“Because this is real life, Changbin,” you snapped, louder than you meant to. “This isn’t a K-drama. There are rules. Boundaries. Consequences.”

He looked at you, eyes storm-dark. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do!” you fired back. “I’m staff. You’re the artist. There’s a rule printed at the top of every goddamn company email — no dating the artists. It’s not just a suggestion, it’s my job on the line!”

The hallway rang with your voice, thick with frustration and guilt and the aching truth you’d been trying to suffocate for weeks.

He exhaled, stepping just a bit closer. His voice softened. “Look, I’m not asking you to throw your life away. I’m not asking you to risk your job or break every rule for me. I know how it works here. I read the rules. Every time I think about texting you, I remember the contract. But then I see you the next day and I wish I’d sent it anyway.”

“Do you know how fast they’d fire me if anyone found out I even thought about you like that?” you snapped. “They wouldn’t see you as the one who started it. They’d say I manipulated you. That I used my position to flirt with someone ten years younger than me? That I’m—”

“Stop,” he said. “You’re not some scandal waiting to happen. You’re the only person who treats me like I’m just me. Who sees past the stage lights and the cameras.”

Your chest ached.

He stepped forward, gaze steady. “If it ever came out—if the company found out—I wouldn’t let them touch you. I’d take the blame. I’d tell them it was me. Because it is, you’ve never once crossed the line. I was the one who fell for you. I was the one who waited—who hoped you'd notice.”

You blinked, stunned.

“I’d fight for you,” he said simply. “If it came down to it… I’d talk to them. I’d tell the truth. That you were the one who tried to do the right thing and I was the one who couldn’t stay away.”

He hesitated, then added softer, “But I’d be careful. We would. I’d never let it get that far. And I’d never let anyone hurt you—not the company, not the fans, not anyone.”

You closed your eyes.

“Just three dates.” Changbin pleaded.

Your eyes snapped open and you looked at him.

“Three quiet, secret dates,” he said. “If after that you still think this is a mistake, I’ll walk away. I’ll act like it never happened. But if there’s even a part of you that feels what I feel… please, noona.”

Your breath hitched at the sound of it, the way he said noona, not playful, not flirty, but tender. Honest.

You wanted to say no. You should say no.

But instead, your voice betrayed you.

“…Three?”

He nodded. “Three.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, voice trembling.

He reached out then, slowly, like he was afraid you'd pull away. But you didn’t.

“I am too,” he said. “But maybe...we can be scared together?”

And when you gave the faintest nod, barely more than a breath, he smiled. Not triumphant but relieved.

“I’ll make them count.”

Then, like a gentleman who knew not to press, he turned and walked away, letting you breathe.

You leaned against the wall, pulse hammering in your ears.

Three dates. That’s all.

And yet it already felt like the start of something you’d never be able to undo.

*****************

The next day during the shoot, the atmosphere was buzzing with controlled chaos. Cameras rolled, lights blazed, and you were coordinating everything behind the scenes, clipboard in hand and eyes sharp.

Changbin was nearby, casually leaning against the equipment cart, watching you with a quiet intensity.

You barely noticed at first.

But then, as you passed him the schedule for the next segment, his fingers brushed lightly against yours — just a second longer than necessary. You felt your cheeks heat up instantly.

He gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile — the kind that said, I’m here. I see you.

Later, when you paused to sip your water, he appeared beside you, nodding at the bottle.

“Don’t forget to hydrate, boss,” he said softly, eyes twinkling.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I—Thanks.”

He gave a slight wink, then stepped back, disappearing into the crew like nothing had happened.

Throughout the day, you caught these little moments — a whispered comment just loud enough for you, a glance that lingered too long, a touch that was barely there.

And every time, you found yourself blushing, smiling when no one was looking.

You admired how careful he was — how he flirted like a secret code only you could decipher.

It made your heart race, and your mind spiral.

How did he get so good at this without anyone noticing?

The day after the shoot, the boys were officially off schedule for a week. A rare golden pocket of free time, and the dorm had erupted into lazy chaos — gaming, loud music, snacks on every surface, and Seungmin walking around with a face mask like he was in his own world.

Changbin should’ve felt relaxed.

He didn’t.

His mind was spinning through three separate date plans, backup options in case you bailed, and whether or not his hallway confession had been too much.

He was in the kitchen, pouring himself some water, when Hyunjin leaned over the counter with a smug little smile.

“So…” Hyunjin started, dragging out the vowel, “Noona, huh?”

Changbin froze.

“What about Y/N?” he asked, too fast. Too defensive.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t say which noona. You just told on yourself.”

Felix suddenly burst out laughing from across the room. “OH MY GOD you confessed?!”

“You sure?” Minho teased, biting into his apple with a smirk, “’Cause why are you so pink?

“I’m just… naturally this color.” Changbin muttered quickly.

Chan popped his head in, grinning wide. “Dwaekki alert! Look at you, blushing like a dweakki!”

“Shut up!” Changbin yelped, running from the room, hands over his face like it might hide the glow.

“You’re not slick, hyung. I see how you look at her like a love sick puppy.” Seungmin chimed in as he passed by.

“It’s not like that.”

Jisung popped his head out from the blanket pile on the couch. “So when are you asking her out?”

“I’m not—”

“Not what? Dating her? Yet?” Jeongin grinned. “You know we’ve been taking bets, right?”

Changbin groaned and shoved his face into his hands.

He wanted to tell them so badly. That you said yes. That he got three whole dates. That he was already planning the third one like a man about to propose.

But he also knew — if it didn’t work out, if the risk was too much for you to keep taking — he couldn’t stomach the thought of them looking at you differently.

So he just muttered, “It’s not what you think,” and grabbed a protein bar like it might protect him from further interrogation.

Chan’s grin widened. “Are you keeping something from us?”

“No!” Changbin defended quickly.

The others burst into laughter.

“You’re so busted!” Jeongin chuckled..

Felix chuckled, “Bro, you can’t hide it. Your face says it all.”

Changbin wanted the floor to swallow him up, the teasing didn’t stop.

“Oh my god, he’s BLUSHING,” Chan laughed. “Binnie, you okay? You need us to buy flowers or plan the proposal?”

“Do not involve yourselves,” Changbin grumbled.

“Too late,” Minho smirked. “We’re emotionally invested now. If you mess it up, we get joint custody of her.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Changbin shot back, surprisingly serious.

They all paused. And just like that, every single one of them knew. He wasn’t just crushing.

He meant it.

And while they still spent the rest of the night teasing him mercilessly, no one crossed the line. Not once.

Because behind all the jokes, they respected you. And they knew Changbin — when he loved, it was for real.

*****************

It was officially time for your first date, you were a nervous wreck. You planned to meet outside a nondescript café at a weird hour on a Tuesday — no other staff in sight, no fans, no eyes. He told you to wear something comfortable and warm. And while it sounded simple enough, somehow it had turned into a full-blown crisis in your apartment.

Your bed was a battlefield of sweaters, jeans, jackets, and outfits you hadn’t even remembered owning until today. You’d tried on six different combinations. Then went back to the first. Then tried again with a different scarf.

You weren’t dressing for a red carpet. You weren’t even dressing for work.

But something about this date made your stomach do flips.

You stared at yourself in the mirror.

Comfy and warm.

Okay. Simple sweater. Long coat. Jeans. Boots. Casual. Cute. Chill. Nothing that screamed “I spent forty-five minutes spiraling in front of a mirror and had an internal breakdown over knitwear.”

You grabbed your bag, took one last deep breath, and whispered to your reflection, “It’s just three dates. Be cool.”

Your heart whispered back yet again: But what if it’s more?

You ignored it and headed out the door to meet the man who made you want to risk all your carefully drawn lines.

When you arrived at the meeting spot — a quiet, tucked-away café on a side street near the Han River — Changbin was already there, hood pulled low, scarf around his face, and holding two takeout cups.

The minute he spotted you, he straightened.

And beamed.

“Hi,” he said, voice soft and low.

You smiled shyly. “Hi.”

He handed you a cup. “Green tea. I wasn’t sure if you already had caffeine today.”

The fact that he remembered your sensitivity to coffee after 4 p.m.? Noted.

“Thanks,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

He nodded toward the street. “Come on. I want to show you something.”

You walked side by side for a while, shoulders brushing occasionally, silence soft and easy between you. He led you through a small park, then down a narrow path that opened up to a quiet stretch of the river — far from the couples and cyclists, hidden from the usual crowds.

A small blanket was already spread out on the grass.

“Wait—did you come here before to set this up?” you asked, blinking at the small pile of homemade sandwiches, some of your favourite snacks and hand warmers.

He looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I, uh... maybe.”

You laughed. “That’s... really sweet.”

“I wanted it to feel normal,” he said, glancing at you. “Like something we could just do. Without the noise.”

You sat down beside him, and for a while, you both just watched the river. Quiet. Present. The sky was turning cotton-candy pink, and the city lights were slowly blinking awake.

He passed you a sandwich. “I made it myself.”

You took a bite, then blinked.

It was unevenly cut, slightly messy, and had... a very generous amount of black pepper.

You coughed lightly and looked at him, amused. “Did you season this with, like... your whole heart and half the pepper grinder?”

Changbin winced. “Too much?”

You nodded slowly, chewing. “A little but it's okay.”

He looked horrified. “I swear it didn’t taste like that when I tested it—wait, does that mean you like it enough to keep eating it?”

You raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop chewing.

He grinned, victorious.

Then he took a bite of his own sandwich and immediately froze.

His eyes went wide. He blinked. Once. Twice.

And then he exploded.

“NOONA—DON’T EAT THAT!” he gasped, as he fumbled for your sandwich like it was a bomb about to go off. “I SWEAR I DIDN’T MEAN TO MURDER YOU WITH PEPPER.”

You just blinked at him mid-chew, caught between laughing and choking. “It’s not that—”

“It’s a disaster!” he cried, waving his arms like a food safety officer. “I was measuring with my heart. My heart, noona. That was a mistake.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore laughter burst out of you so hard you nearly dropped the sandwich.

“Oh my god, sit down, drama queen,” you wheezed. “It’s edible.”

“Barely,” he pouted, dramatically collapsing onto the blanket beside you. “I wanted to impress you, not ruin your taste buds.”

You took another bite, calmly. “Honestly, ten out of ten for effort. Negative two for spice control.”

He groaned. “I’m never cooking again.”

You both looked at each other and started laughing, and that laughter dissolved the last bits of awkwardness that had been clinging to your nerves all day.

Still, despite the extra pepper, it was perfect not because it was flawless, but because he’d made it himself. And you noticed he’d remembered all your favorite snacks too. The granola bar you always nibbled between call times. The exact brand of spicy chips you hoarded in the back of the van. Even your weird obsession with almond biscuits.

He didn’t just remember. He noticed. And your heart did somersaults.

You talked for hours. About everything except work. Childhood stories. Favorite scents. Regrets you never said out loud before. The whole time, he didn’t touch you. Didn’t rush, he just listened like no one ever had. Like every word was something he wanted to carry home and keep.

When he dropped you off at your apartment building, he didn’t even lean in. Just gave you the softest look and whispered, “Sleep well, noona.”

And even as he walked away…you couldn’t stop smiling.

*****************

He booked a private room at a planetarium for your second date.

You’d barely finished processing the word when he texted you the location. A literal planetarium.

He said it was “research for a concept video,” and you rolled your eyes, but didn’t question it.

Because the minute you stepped inside the dim, dome-shaped room — all the chaos and rules and pretending melted away.

It was quiet. Soft galaxies shimmered across the ceiling, light dancing in slow spirals above your heads. The air was cool, still, and scented faintly with the citrusy cologne he always wore — the one you noticed but never mentioned.

Just the two of you. No titles. No cameras. No reminders that this wasn’t allowed.

He brought a small bag, and from it, he pulled out a tiny Bluetooth speaker.

“Trust me,” he said, already smirking at your raised eyebrow.

Then he hit play, it was one of his unreleased demos. A soft, emotional verse you’d never heard, it was a confession in lyrics.

You didn’t ask who it was about. He didn’t say. You didn’t need to.

You sat side by side in the dark, arms brushing, knees bumping. And when the artificial stars tilted above you, your head fell naturally onto his shoulder.

He didn’t move.

Just let out the softest breath like he’d been waiting for that moment longer than he’d ever admit.

Your heart was racing so loud you were convinced he could hear it over his own vocals.

When the song ended, neither of you spoke. You sat in the gentle dark, breathing the same quiet air, your pulse drumming against borrowed gravity.

Later, on the walk out to your separate cars, the night air felt colder than usual. Changbin walked slowly, like dragging his feet might delay the inevitable end.

Then he said in a low voice, “I wish I could take you on dates like this in the daylight.”

You stopped walking.

Your chest ached, because God, you wished that too. You wanted sunlight and loud laughter and crowded cafés. You wanted his hand in yours where people could see.

But you turned toward him, eyes gentle, voice soft.

“But I liked it,” you said. “Just us.”

He looked at you and something flickered in his eyes. Wonder. Relief. Maybe even love.

And he whispered, “Me too.”

*****************

It was raining softly the night of your third date.

The kind of drizzle that misted your coat and made the city glow golden. The air smelled like wet pavement and steamed dumplings from street vendors, and everything felt a little softer. A little quieter.

Perfect for staying in.

Changbin had offered his place — “We can watch something dumb and comfy. No pressure. Just pajamas, movies and snacks.”

And after everything, after the stars and the quiet laughter and the way his voice cracked just a little when he said goodbye last time...you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

Luckily for you both, Hyunjin was out of town visiting his parents that weekend. Meaning there will be no awkward interruptions, no sudden bangs on the door, and no suspicious smirking from the world’s most dramatic roommate.

Just you and Changbin.

The apartment was cozy and clean in the way only someone who anxiously vacuumed before you arrived could manage.

You kicked your shoes off and padded in with fuzzy socks, arms full of snacks you insisted on bringing.

Changbin took one look at the grocery bag and teased, “You’re trying to bribe me with bbq chips, aren’t you?”

You grinned. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

He was wearing a hoodie so soft-looking it should’ve been illegal. His hair was slightly tousled like he hadn’t finished drying it. And when he took your coat, his fingers brushed yours and stayed a moment longer than they needed to.

You settled into the couch together with a mountain of pillows, blankets, and a massive bowl of popcorn you both agreed was too salty but too late to fix.

The movie — some old cheesy rom-com from the early 2000s — was barely playing before you felt his arm stretch across the back of the couch.

You glanced sideways.

He wasn’t looking at you, not directly. But the corner of his mouth twitched, like he was trying to look chill.

You smirked and leaned your head back against his arm.

He shifted slightly closer and you took the chance to rest your head against his chest, your legs curled under you, and one of his hands gently brushing your arm in slow, absentminded motions.

It was quiet. Not the kind of silence that needed to be filled. The kind that felt like a heartbeat.

Halfway through the movie, he murmured, “You comfy enough?”

You nodded, nose slightly buried in his hoodie. “Mhm.”

His voice dropped a little. “Me too.”

As the credits rolled and the room dipped into low lamp light and leftover snack crumbs, he nudged you slightly, voice soft near your ear.

“So…” he said. “What’s the verdict?”

You blinked up at him, heart stuttering.

He smiled, nervous. “The three dates. Was it enough to convince you?”

You stretched slightly, still half-curled in his arms.Then, very casually, you said, “Hm. I think we should keep doing it.”

He stared at you for a few seconds.

Then he exploded.

“YAH—” he shouted, practically shaking you. “NOONA DON’T DO THAT TO ME, I ALMOST DIED—”

You shrieked, laughing, swatting his chest. “What?!”

“I thought you were gonna say no!” he groaned, flopping back dramatically against the cushions.

“You’re so dramatic,” you teased, burying your face into his hoodie.

He hugged you tighter. “You like that about me.”

You tilted your face upward slightly, just enough to meet his eyes. He was already looking at you. And everything that had been playful and teasing just a moment ago just stilled.

His smile softened, lips parting just barely as if to say something, but he hesitated.

You could feel the shift in the air. The way his thumb started brushing lightly against your arm. The way his breath slowed. The way your heart sped up.

“Can I…” his voice dropped, almost unsure.

Then steadier, with quiet conviction, he asked, “Can I please kiss you?”

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t expected the question to feel so heavy, so intimate.

You didn’t answer right away.

You just looked at him — the warmth in his eyes, the nervous hope swimming beneath the surface, the way he held you like you were something fragile and precious.

So instead of words, you leaned in.

He met you halfway.

And when his lips touched yours, it wasn’t fireworks. It wasn’t overwhelming or rushed. It was gentle and soft, like everything finally made sense.

The kiss melted into the quiet warmth between you, his hand cupping your cheek, your fingers curling into the hem of his hoodie.

When you pulled back, the world stayed still.

You looked at him, breath caught, cheeks warm, and whispered, “That was dangerous.”

Changbin pressed his forehead to yours, smiling, voice low and steady now. “But so worth the risk.”

You sighed, smiling. Maybe it wouldn’t always be easy. But if you were careful and you had him by your side.

Then it was worth it. All of it.

----------------

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@lov3rachan @pixie-felix @ellemir2404 @willowhanji @skzimagines @wavetohannie @jamroses @vietjeb @kayleefriedchicken @kokinu09 @nightmarenyxx @my-neurodivergent-world @shuuporanglinos @silly250 @notmedina127 @thecutiepieme @stay-tiny-things @inlovewithstraykids @skz-ot8-stay @emilyywhyy @havenwithleeknow @hungryhobbit815 @seungminnieinthebuilding @beabidoobee @geni-627 @ye0lkkot @yaorzu-blog @butterflybananabread @nightshadeblooming @rockstarkkami @finannn @poody1608 @scarlet789 @mbioooo0000 @icannotbelieveit @casperlynn23 @rtyuy1346 @maddy24207 @ari-hwanggg @jisuperboard @nougatjade @skzlover24

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whatdoyouwanttocallmefor · 1 month ago

Text

THIS SO GOOD WTF

Master List

Summary: Jackson Wang invites you to duet on his solo track, and the chemistry between you two explodes on stage at Waterbomb, sparking viral rumors. The duet with Jackson may be steamy but it’s clear—you belong to the wolves.

Warnings: big cups of angst and possessive alphas 😉

No Rules Tonight

You’re the 9th member of Stray Kids and the oldest member. But they still treat you like a Makanae just because you’re the only omega in the pack. Some days it bothers you to no end.

You’d just stepped out of the cafeteria at JYP, surrounded as usual—Minho beside you, Felix and Seungmin a half-step behind, and Jisung already arguing with Hyunjin about who got to carry the water bottle bag.

Chan’s phone buzzed. He glanced down and frowned. “Huh.”

“What?” you asked, shifting your tray a little.

He tucked the phone back into his pocket. “Someone’s here to see you.”

That stopped everyone. Jeongin squinted. “Like… a fan?”

“No,” Chan said slowly, starting down the hallway toward the elevators. “Like Jackson Wang.”

Your heart stuttered.

Jackson Wang. The multitalented, solo-powerhouse, GOT7 icon. He wasn’t just a legend—he was one of the few alphas in the industry who always treated omegas with genuine respect. And he was here. For you?

The Stray Kids pack went still like they were frozen mid-scent.

“Wha—why?!” Jisung blurted.

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes, already sniffing the air like Jackson’s scent would come barreling down the hallway in a tidal wave.

And then it did. Before you could overthink it, the elevator doors pinged and opened—And there he was.

Jackson Wang, in black jeans, a cream silk shirt, and sunglasses pushed up into his undercut. His scent—amber musk and crisp cedar—fanned into the hallway with the kind of natural alpha confidence that would’ve felt cocky from anyone else. But with Jackson? It was earned.

He smiled when he saw you, relaxed but direct. “There you are. I was starting to think you were hiding.”

Your pack practically formed a wall. Chan stepped slightly in front of you, voice polite but flat. “What do you need with Y/n?”

Jackson’s smile widened just a little. Not smug. Not arrogant. Challenging. “Not here to steal her,” he said calmly. “I’m here to ask her for a duet.”

Eight stunned alphas.

You? You blinked. “…a duet?”

Jackson nodded, stepping forward but stopping a respectful distance away. “I’m producing a new solo track for my next album. Bilingual. Something smoky and intense. I’ve been following your vocals for months. I think you’d bring something incredible to the bridge.”

The hallway went silent. You felt the air tighten behind you—Chan’s hand barely brushing your back, a grounding point. Minho’s vanilla-and-tobacco scent sharpened slightly. Felix leaned in unconsciously, his linen scent layering around your shoulder.

Jealousy. Instinct. Protection. But also respect. They didn’t speak over you. They waited.

You swallowed, heart thudding. “You want me to sing with you?”

Jackson nodded again. “If you’re interested. I’ll send the demo. You can record in-house or at my studio—whatever makes you comfortable.”

He met your eyes directly. Not pushy. Not demanding. Just real. “This isn’t a gimmick. You’ve got something I want in the track. And I think your fans—and mine—deserve to hear it.”

You stared for a second longer, then smiled. “I’d love to hear the demo.”

“Perfect,” he said, offering his hand. “I’ll message you tonight.”

You took it—brief, firm shake—and your pack remained stone still as he gave a respectful nod to Chan, then the rest, and headed for the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed behind him— Chaos.

“Did that just happen?!” Jisung gasped.

“He wants her vocals—her voice,” Seungmin clarified with squinted eyes, clearly still working through the jealousy.

“He smelled really good,” Jeongin muttered.

Chan turned toward you slowly, like he was trying to stay calm but his alpha was on full alert. “You want to do it?”

You hesitated. Then nodded. “Yes. I think I do.”

The tension broke—some groaning, some sighing, but no one protested. Instead, Felix was the first to throw an arm around your shoulders, warm and easy. “Then we’ll help you practice. Pack rule, yeah?”

“Obviously,” Minho said dryly, already pulling up his schedule. “No way we’re letting you go in unprepared.”

“You’ll kill it,” Chan said finally, voice softening. “But we’ll be there. Just in case.”

Jackson’s Studio – A Different Kind of Territory

You stood in front of the glass doors of Team Wang’s private recording studio. Modern. Sleek. Different. The blacked-out windows reflected your face—calm on the surface, but your heart was hammering. Not because of nerves. You weren’t scared of singing. You were scared of what this meant.

It wasn’t just a song. It was you stepping outside your usual pack space.

Your phone buzzed.

🐣Felix: You good, baby? 🐺Chan: We’re all at the dorm if you need us. One call. 🌹Hyunjin (five missed messages): DON’T LET HIM TOUCH YOU. SERIOUSLY. HIS STUDIO SMELLS LIKE TROUBLE. TEXT ME WHEN U LEAVE.(pls eat.)

You smiled despite yourself. Then, one last inhale of strength—and you opened the door.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Inside, the air hit differently. Cedar and musk. Bold, refined, but not overwhelming. The space was dim-lit, ambient, and smelled faintly of sage and wood polish. It wasn’t threatening. But it wasn’t your pack. Jackson was already at the mixing console, headphones around his neck, sipping coffee like this wasn’t a monumental moment for your career. He looked up as you entered and smiled.

“Right on time,” he said, standing and offering you a seat. “You want tea? Coffee?”

You shook your head politely. “I’m good.”

“Cool.” He slid over and tapped his screen. “Track’s loaded. I added a few harmony options to test range, but we’ll try it clean first.”

Once set up in the booth, you heard the first chords. Slow, sensual, a blend of traditional strings and modern bass. Jackson’s voice came in first—low, husky, murmured like velvet across a bruise. Then your cue lit up. You stepped into the mic zone, lips parting as the instrumental swelled—And you sang.

The lyrics slipped from your tongue like silk. Confident. Controlled. You didn’t hold back—not your tone, not your presence. You layered emotion, tension, intimacy into every line.

By the third take, Jackson sat up straight, brow raised. “Damn,” he said under his breath. “That’s even better than I imagined.”

You removed your headphones slowly, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. “That good, huh?”

He turned, eyes locking with yours—not with dominance, but respect. “That good.”

Jackson didn’t leer. Didn’t flirt. He observed you. Not as an omega. Not as competition. As an artist. An equal.

“We’ll debut this in a couple weeks at Waterbomb. We’ll get choreo going keeping it simple, cool?” He asked as he mixed the last couple chords.

“Sure, just let me know when to warn my alphas.” You share a laugh with him both knowing your pack is going to lose their minds.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

You arrived back at the dorm just before dusk. The moment you stepped inside, eight alpha scents crashed over you like a tidal wave.

They didn’t say anything at first. They didn’t have to. Felix was the first to reach you, arms circling your waist gently. His scent was clean but layered—like he’d been pacing. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, forehead bumping his. “It went great.”

Hyunjin sniffed you dramatically. “Ugh. You smell like pine and ambition now.”

“Shut up,” Seungmin muttered, already pulling your jacket off. “Let her sit.”

Minho passed by, fingers ghosting over your wrist. “You held your own?”

You nodded. “Didn’t need to. Jackson was respectful.”

Chan finally looked up from the kitchen, where he’d been slicing apples. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he said softly.

And when you sat down between them all—curled into a blanket, their scents slowly reclaiming your skin like a ritual—you knew the song would be a hit. But this? This was your home.

Waterbomb Festival – Seoul

The bass thumped like it was synced with your heartbeat. Thousands of fans screamed beyond the misty fog of the stage. The humidity clung to your skin, but adrenaline made it irrelevant. Fireworks had just gone off. EDM rolled under your feet.

And Jackson turned toward you with a smirk that screamed Ready?

You were already walking up the center ramp, water slicking across your exposed shoulders. The black one-piece hugged your figure perfectly, tucked under faded jean shorts that clung to your hips. Your space buns were already damp from the festival sprayers. Glitter shimmered on your collarbones.

Jackson? Completely shirtless. Tattooed. Wet. Alpha energy on full blast.

The crowd lost their minds the moment you stepped into view beside him. And you knew—this moment was yours. The track kicked in with a slow, sinuous beat—traps and strings, tension and tease.

Jackson sang first, walking toward you with a loose swagger, voice soaked in heat.

“I see the danger in your smile / but baby, I walk the wire for miles…”

Your cue hit like thunder. You leaned into your mic, water dripping down your arms, and let your voice wrap around his.

“Call my name like it’s a dare / we’re burning through this summer air…”

The crowd screamed.

You spun slowly, the water cannons firing in waves behind you, soaking your thighs and sending droplets flying off your space buns. You locked eyes with Jackson—confident, unbothered, magnetic. The two of you moved like opposites drawn together. Never touching. Never too close. But so in sync it felt intimate. Explosive. The tension was built into every beat.

When you hit the bridge—a vocal high note blended with his lower harmony—the stage shook. Fireworks went off behind you.

Meanwhile your pack, Chan watched from the side of the stage, jaw clenched. His in-ear monitor buzzed, but all he could hear was your voice.

Minho stood with his arms crossed, chewing his cheek so hard it might bruise. “He touched her waist.”

“He didn’t touch her,” Seungmin hissed, gripping a towel like it personally offended him. “It was choreo. Chill.”

“Why is he so close?” Hyunjin muttered, eyes narrow. “He’s not even in a shirt. He’s a hazard.”

“She’s glowing,” Jisung breathed, proud but vaguely panicked. “That’s our omega. Why is she glowing?!”

Jeongin had taken three pictures of the monitor and then immediately deleted them because he couldn’t decide how he felt.

Felix didn’t say a word. He just stared. One hand tugged his hood up. The other gripped the back of Chan’s shirt like if he didn’t anchor himself, he’d storm the stage.

“She looks perfect,” Felix finally whispered.

“She is perfect,” Chan replied, voice hoarse.

Back on stage, the last chorus hit like lightning—your voices overlapping, the chemistry unreal.

You stepped toward the end of the ramp, soaked to the bone, water dripping down your legs. The crowd chanted your name. The lights flashed behind you.

You smiled. Not at Jackson. Not at the fans.But directly toward the side of the stage, where eight territorial, half-feral alphas were watching your every move.

You winked and every single one of them lost it.

Backstage was a blur of staff, lights, damp towels, and laughter. Jackson tossed you a water bottle and high-fived you. “You murdered that bridge. I swear.”

You grinned, breathing hard, adrenaline still crackling. “You weren’t too bad yourself, Wang.”

He laughed, backing up as his team called him. “Next track—maybe a little less sexual tension?”

You threw a towel at him. “We’ll see.”

And then—They arrived. Eight Stray Kids.

Still wet from water cannons, faces unreadable, scents rolling off them like a wall of unfiltered alpha instinct.

“Hi,” you said carefully, slowly walking over.

Chan didn’t say anything at first. He just pulled you into him, arms around your waist, scenting you so deeply it felt like a signature on your soul.

Minho pressed his nose to your hair. “You’re lucky we let you live after that.”

Jisung muttered something about cardiac arrests.

Felix looked like he might cry from pride or possessiveness—or both.

And Hyunjin? Hyunjin was still glaring toward the exit Jackson took. “I will challenge him in a duel.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned into the embrace, letting their scent drown the lingering cedar and musk still clinging to your skin.

“You guys okay?” you teased, heart thudding with pack warmth.

Chan pulled back just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple. “You killed it,” he whispered.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

You didn’t even get to stretch before your phone lit up over and over. 147 unread messages.