petvlss

[petvlss]

listen to it

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pairing: lee know x fem reader

word count: 5.8K

contains: +18, established relationship, studio sex, semi-public, teasing, lap sitting, grinding, voice kink, clothed touching, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (don't), Lino calls reader kitten, reader drives him insane on purpose and he ruins her right back.

authors note: english is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in advance +++ requests are open! :)

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this ff was requested by @appl3jay

summary: It was supposed to be a normal recording session. Well, not that normal. This time, Lee Know was one of the producers, fully hands-on with his own track, and he had asked you to come for “support.” Except… you should’ve known better. Because he was sitting there, focused, hot as sin, and he knew exactly what it did to you.

!!!! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT !!!

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You had been curled up on the couch for nearly an hour, legs tucked under you, your phone long forgotten in your lap, because how could you look at anything else when he was like this?

Lee Know stood behind the glass, headphones snug over his ears, mouthing lyrics as the track replayed through the monitors. His black t-shirt clung a little to his back, slightly damp from the heat of the room and how long he had been at it. The fabric did nothing to hide how solid he looked, how the muscles in his arms flexed subtly every time he adjusted a knob or motioned something to the sound engineer. His grey sweatpants, loose and casual, unfairly effortless.

You bit the inside of your cheek. This was so not fair.

He knew what he was doing to you. Of course he did. He had invited you today with that same teasing glint in his eye. “I’ll need your support,” he had said this morning, casually sliding a hand over your thigh beneath the breakfast table.

But this wasn’t just any studio session. It wasn’t the usual, where he showed up, laid down his parts, let the boys handle the technical side. No. This one was his.

A track he had worked on from the ground up. He didn’t usually work on his own songs like this. And God, you had seen how excited he was. The way his eyes lit up every time he talked about it over the past few weeks.

Now, you watched the way he tilted his head, brows furrowed in that ridiculously attractive, focused expression he got when he was deep into the music. You couldn’t even pretend to be unaffected. Your fingers curled into the cushion beside you, thighs pressing just slightly together.

Then he glanced up, right at you.

His lips quirked. Just a little. Barely even a smile. But you saw it. That smug, knowing thing he did with his mouth. That look that said “Yeah, I know what you're thinking.” And that alone made your stomach flip.

The track paused. His voice came through the monitor in the room, low and casual. “Baby,” he said, eyes still on you through the glass. “What do you think? Sound good?”

You cleared your throat, trying to sound normal despite the heat in your face. “You sound amazing.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, pulling the headphones off and setting them on the stand. “You sure? I thought maybe you were too busy staring at my shirt.”

Your jaw dropped, scandalized. “Lino—!”

He laughed, opening the door and stepping into the room, closer, close enough for his cologne to wrap around you as he leaned over the back of the couch, lips ghosting against your ear.

“Next part’s the chorus,” he whispered, voice a breath. “Wanna sit on my lap while I record it?”

You blinked up at him, heart racing.

He was grinning now, wicked and soft all at once. “Come on, kitten. I need your support.”

The nickname twisted something low in your stomach. He didn’t say it often. Only when he wanted something, or when he knew exactly what you were thinking and wanted to watch you squirm.

He offered his hand, and you took it, your fingers slipping against his warm palm as he pulled you up from the couch. The way he looked at you, eyes half-lidded, lazy with confidence, made your legs feel unsteady even before you took a single step.

He guided you to the booth, fingers grazing the small of your back, and dropped into the chair in front of the mic. Then, without a word, he patted his thigh.

You glared at him, or tried to, as you climbed onto his lap. One leg slid over his, then the other, settling your weight carefully. He was so solid underneath you. All warm skin and strong thighs and the faintest tremble of breath when your body fully settled into his.

His hands found your waist instantly, fingers splayed, thumbs brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt. You tried not to react. You really tried. But it was impossible not to feel it, every inch of him pressed flush against you. The heat of his chest at your back, the steady thump of his heart, the soft exhale against your neck.

The mic beeped softly as the engineer reconnected. A voice crackled into the booth. “All right, Minho, ready when you are.”

He didn’t respond at first. His lips brushed your ear, voice low and private. “Be good, okay? Sit still and let me work.”

You nodded, your voice gone.

The track kicked in, a soft instrumental build-up that pulsed in time with your heartbeat. Lee Know adjusted slightly beneath you, one hand on the keyboard, the other holding the headphones to his ear. The movement made you suck in a breath. His thigh flexed under yours, shifting just enough to remind you exactly where you were, and how badly you wanted him.

He began to sing.

God.

You could feel the vibrations through his chest against your back, each note humming straight through your spine. He leaned forward to tweak something on the mixing board, and your hips shifted with him, the friction subtle but maddening.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweats, grounding yourself.

He didn’t say anything. You could feel his smirk in the way his hand returned to your waist, fingers pressing just a little firmer. You knew he could feel how tense you were. How breathless.

“Nice, kitten” he murmured between takes, not loud enough for the mic, but plenty loud for you.

You bit your lip, hard.

The next verse started, and he sang softer now, closer to the mic, like a whisper soaked in promise. One of his hands drifted up, fingertips ghosting along your arm, slow and teasing. You were hyperaware of everything, the soft drag of his breath over your neck, the warmth of his touch, the sound of his voice wrapping around lyrics you didn’t even process anymore.

You weren’t sure how much time passed.

But when the track finally ended and the engineer's voice came through again,“Got it. That was perfect”, you nearly jolted in his lap.

Lee Know didn’t move right away. His head dipped forward until his mouth brushed your shoulder.

“You okay, baby?”

You nodded, still dazed. Then he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, amused, and full of pride.

“Guess I should record like this more often, huh?”

You smacked his thigh, cheeks burning. But your body? Your body was already leaning back into him like you needed him to keep you upright. Because you were melting. And he knew.

A second passed, just the quiet hum of equipment, the faint static of the speakers. Then he shifted underneath you, one hand dragging back to the mixer. His other hand never left your thigh, fingers curled possessively around you like he couldn’t stand not having you close.

“I’ve gotta fix the harmonies,” he murmured, thumb brushing absently over your skin. “Last chorus isn’t clean.”

You barely nodded. Your brain wasn’t functioning properly anyway, not with the warmth of his palm against your bare skin, not with how easily his voice slipped into that focused tone that made you ache.

He clicked a few buttons, adjusted the track, then reached up, fingers flicking the mic input.

A soft beep. Muted.

“You're driving me insane,” he said, voice suddenly dropping. It was lower now, rougher. Private. “You know that, right?”

Your pulse skittered. “Me?”

“Yeah.” His hand slid further up, palm warm, fingers pressing into the soft inside of your thigh. “Sitting here, all pretty… acting like you don’t feel what you’re doing to me.”

It was then, exactly then, you noticed it. Hard.

Pressing firm beneath you, hot even through the thin barrier of sweatpants and the fabric of your shorts. Your breath caught in your throat, heat flashing down your spine, settling deep between your legs.

“Oh…” you whispered.

His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “Yeah. Oh.”

For a second, just a second, neither of you moved.

Then you shifted. Slow. Testing. A subtle rock of your hips, like you could pretend it was innocent. But the friction was undeniable, the way your body dragged over him, the way his breath stuttered.

“Baby…” His hands snapped to your hips, holding you down. “Don’t.”

“Why not?” you whispered, turning your face slightly toward him, lips just shy of his. “You muted the mic.”

A pause. A single beat where tension stretched so tight it was suffocating. Then his hands flexed hard on your hips, nails digging in just enough to sting.

Before he could answer, you moved again. This time with purpose. A slow, deliberate grind of your hips against him. You could feel everything, the heat of him, the shape of him, thick and straining against his sweatpants. The way his thighs tensed under yours, the deep inhale he sucked between clenched teeth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, head tipping forward until his forehead pressed to your shoulder. His grip tightened but didn’t stop you, couldn’t.

“You’re the one who brought me here like this,” you whispered, breath shaky. “Looking like that. Singing like that. Acting like you didn’t know exactly what it would do to me.”

His head lifted, just enough for his mouth to ghost along your jaw. His eyes were molten now. “I knew.”

The honesty knocked the air from your lungs. You whimpered, hips rolling again, slower now, dragging out every ounce of friction. His hands trembled where they held you, his breath going ragged against your skin.

“I'm supporting you, baby,” you whispered. “I wanna hear you sing.”

His laugh was broken. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

But his hand was already reaching back toward the controls, unmuting the mic, but only for the track, not for him. His vocals. His harmonies. His perfect, controlled voice layered into the recording while you moved in his lap, driving him absolutely insane.

“Just so you know, the sound engineer isn't here anymore. He had to leave. But behave, baby. Sit still,” he gritted out as the track rolled.

But he didn’t stop you.

Not when your hips rolled again, slower, deeper. Not when your fingers threaded into the hair at the back of his neck, tugging just enough to make him bite back a moan that vibrated through his chest and into your spine.

His voice spilled into the room, smooth and warm and barely holding together, but anyone listening would never know. Only you could hear the strain. Only you could feel how his body trembled beneath yours, how every perfect note was wrapped around the way you moved against him.

And you swore, absolutely swore, that this was the hottest thing you had ever seen.

The second the track rolled again, Lino's hands clamped down on your hips like he was barely holding you in place. “Behave, kitten.” he warned, again, recording again now.

But how could you behave?

You shifted, subtle, casual, sliding just the tiniest bit forward in his lap. Not enough for him to question it. Not enough to look suspicious. Just enough that your back was still pressed to his chest, but now… now there was space.

Space for your hand.

Slow. Testing. Innocent, at first. Your fingers trailed down, ghosting over the hem of his t-shirt, skating lower, until your palm settled right over the growing bulge straining against his sweats.

Right there.

The heat of him burned through the fabric, heavy, solid, and God, the way he jolted beneath you almost made you gasp. His hips bucked, subtle but sharp, like his whole body wasn’t prepared for it even though he should’ve been.

His breath caught, a sharp inhale punched through gritted teeth. One of his hands flew off your hip, gripping the edge of the desk like he needed something, anything, to hold onto.

But he didn’t stop.

His voice spilled into the room, low, rich, just a little breathier now. That perfect harmony threading over the instrumental, clean and precise in the headphones.

Except you could hear it. The strain. That subtle shake in his inhale between lines. The slight rasp catching on the tail end of each word. And God, the way his breath shuddered the moment you pressed your palm a little harder, a teasing, deliberate pat right against where he was thickest.

Still, he sang.

His hands clutched your hips like a threat. His fingers flexed with every slight movement you made, as if deciding whether to hold you still or push you harder against him.

You dragged your hand again, slow, fingers tracing the outline of him beneath the soft cotton. The way he twitched under your touch made you dizzy. You felt the tremble running through him now, the way his thighs flexed, the shallow, frantic rise and fall of his chest. His jaw clenched so tight you swore it might crack.

And still. He. Didn’t. Miss. A. Note.

“Lino…” Your voice was soft, teasing, wicked.

His breath stuttered. His grip crushed your hips down harder, pulling you tight into the shape of him like he wanted to burn the feeling into his skin.

“Stop,” he hissed, not convincing at all.

You smiled, fingers sliding lower now, curling around him through the fabric. “No." Your fingers stayed right where he was hardest, pressed through the fabric of his sweats, teasing, patting, trailing...

And then, before he could process it, before he could do anything about it, you shifted. Slipped off his lap. His hands flinched off you, startled, unsure, chest rising sharp like he didn’t know whether to pull you back or let you go.

But you didn’t go far. You just… turned.

Faced him. Crawled back into his lap, soft, slow, deliberate. Palms pressed to his chest, weight sinking into his thighs until you were straddling him this time, chest to chest.

And God. The look in his eyes...... It was chaos.

Confusion. Desperation. His eyebrows lifted, jaw ticking, lips parted like he wanted to ask “What the fuck is this?” And still. Still. He didn’t stop you. Didn’t move. Didn’t push you away.

And you?

You smiled. Smiled like you were made to ruin him.

Leaning in slow, eyes locked on his, so close you could feel the ragged stutter of his breath against your lips. You cupped his jaw, thumbs brushing the sharp line of it, fingers sinking into the softness behind his ears.

He was humming a melody, and you kissed him.

Soft. Gentle. Lethal.

A slow press of lips. Sweet, teasing, barely there. Just enough to make him chase it. And God, you could still feel him. Hard. Straining. Burning right between you where your hips ground down into his, every little shift sending shocks of friction through the both of you.

You turned your face toward his jaw, breath warm against his skin, and pressed the lightest kiss there.

Smack.

Tiny. Barely audible, but not quite quiet enough.

It echoed in the mic. Faint. Buried under the layers of Minho’s voice pouring through the track. His harmony floated above the instrumental, breathier now, shakier, but it was there. Solid. Beautiful.

Another. A kiss just under his ear.

Smack.

His breath hitched. You felt it, the shudder that rattled through his ribs, the low, choked sound he barely swallowed down as his fingers dug harder into your hips.

Still, he kept singing.

Your lips ghosted along the column of his throat, then pressed another kiss to the hollow just beneath his jaw.

Smack.

The softest sound. But so loud in the quiet between his lines. Tiny, fleeting, sticky-soft sounds that melted into the edges of his voice.

His next inhale was ragged, almost sharp, but somehow, somehow, he slid into the next note like nothing was happening. Like you weren’t actively undoing him.

Another kiss. Smack. And another, lower, trailing down the side of his neck. Smack. Your lips dragged over his skin between them, warm and teasing, your breath soft but deliberate.

You whispered between kisses. “Sound so good, Lino.”

His entire body jolted under you. His thigh flexed, his hips pressed up just a fraction, a desperate, involuntary twitch that shoved the shape of him harder against your palm.

“Baby…” His voice broke, a real one this time, just a stutter in the middle of a harmony. His teeth sank into his bottom lip so hard it went white, like he was physically holding back every sound threatening to break free.

Still, he kept going. Notes wobbling. Breath thin. But perfect.

Until the kiss you pressed, open-mouthed, wet, right against the side of his neck, teeth barely grazing.

The track faded. His voice rang out one last time, then silence, save for the tiny, sticky-soft kiss you pressed under his jaw like a period at the end of a sentence. Smack.

You could feel the way he was breathing, wrecked. His head tipped back against the chair, eyes squeezed shut, throat moving as he swallowed hard.

“...You’re evil,” he rasped.

But the way his hands trembled where they gripped you? You knew he fucking loved it. You smiled, slow, sweet, wicked. Pressed one more kiss to the corner of his mouth, let your lips linger there just a second too long.

“You’re the one who taught me that.”

And then... Something snapped. You saw it happen. It was in the shift of his eyes, dark to darker. From playful to feral. His pupils blown wide, swallowing the warm brown into nothing but black.

His breath dragged in sharp. Controlled. His jaw ticked, a vein at his temple pulsing.

“...Get off,” he said, quiet. Too quiet.

But his hands didn’t move to help you down. No. They slid lower, rough, fast, palms locking around the underside of your thighs.

“Lee—”

“Get off.” Firmer now. Commanding. His head tilted back, mouth pulling into that grin, the dangerous one, sharp and lazy, all teeth. “Can't believe you're doing this here.”

He shoved the chair back. The wheels screeched against the floor. His hands tightened as he stood, hauling you up with him, legs instinctively wrapping around his hips, hands clutching at his shoulders.

“Lino—!”

But he was already walking across the room. Straight toward the couch pushed against the back wall, half-shadowed by the dim studio lights.

His fingers dug into your thighs harder with every step. “Thought you were all cute doing that, huh?” he muttered, voice low, chest vibrating against yours.

He dropped you. Onto the couch. Hard.

Your back hit the cushions, breath knocked out of you, hands flailing for balance, but you barely had a second before he was on you. Crawling between your legs, hands braced on either side of your hips, caging you in completely.

His mouth was right there, hovering, lips ghosting yours, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath but not touching.

“Go on,” he whispered. Soft. Dangerous. “Say sorry, kitten.”

His eyes burned, wild and sharp, flicking from your mouth to your eyes and back again.

Your throat bobbed. “...No. You're the one that asked me to sit on your lap"

His head tilted. That grin widened, slow and sharp, like a blade being unsheathed. “Wrong answer. I also told you to behave.”

Then his mouth crashed into yours, hard. All teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration. His hands shot to your waist, dragging your hips up against his, grinding down, and God, he was so hard, the thickness of him pressing right between your thighs through both layers of clothes.

“You wanted this, didn’t you?” he muttered against your lips, hands already tugging at your shorts. “All that teasing. Kissing me like that.”

“You brought me here,” you shot back, breathless, nails dragging down his back. “Wearing those fucking sweats like that.”

His laugh was dark, broken and breathless. “Yeah?” His hand shoved between your legs now, cupping you rough through your underwear. "And you thought you could play with me?"

He rolled his hips again, dragging himself right where you were soaked for him, slow, deliberate, grinding until your thighs trembled, your breath coming in shallow, helpless little gasps.

Then his hands tightened. His hips stilled.

“You know what?” Before you could even form a thought, his hands slid under your thighs. In one smooth, brutal motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively folding, thighs squeezing around his chest, your waist perched high on his shoulders.

“Oh my God—” breathless, startled.

But he was already moving. Striding toward the recording booth with purpose, fast, heavy steps that jostled you with every shift of his body. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, holding you so tight it was halfway to bruising, like he was daring you to try and escape.

He shoved the booth door open with his foot.

You barely had time to glance at the chair before he knelt down and sat you on it. No grace, no patience. Just dropped. Hands immediately snapping to your shorts, yanking both them and your panties down in one rough pull that dragged a gasp out of your throat.

“Wha—Lino—what are you—”

You didn’t even get the sentence out.

His hand flew up, palm firm against your lower belly, pinning you to the seat, and his other hand reached for the console. Fingers hovered over the button, eyes locked on yours, sharp, dark, dangerous.

“Quiet, kitten.” His voice was low. Firm. Absolutely not up for debate. “Let’s see if you can behave now.”

You opened your mouth, but he was faster.

“Nah-ah.” His head tilted, lips curling into something wicked. “Quiet. Hm?”

His finger slammed the record button. The light blinked red. Recording.

Your heart stopped.

“Lee—”

But you didn’t finish. Because the second that light turned on, his head dipped between your thighs, and his mouth was on you. No warning. No mercy.

Heat. Wet. Tongue flattening, dragging up the entire length of you, slow and filthy. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucked, hard, before flicking his tongue over it, sharp and precise.

Your whole body jerked. A gasp punched out of you so loud it echoed in the booth.

Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling, gripping. His hands hooked under your thighs, yanking them higher, wider, locking them over his shoulders so you were completely spread for him.

His mouth worked you with long, messy licks. Sharp, focused flicks. His lips sealing around you, sucking with a pressure that sent electricity shooting down your spine.

And it was loud.

Not just the broken sounds slipping out of your throat, but him. The obscene, wet sounds of his tongue moving over you. The soft, rhythmic gasps of his breath between every drag of his mouth. The desperate, needy hum he let out every time you twitched under him.

You squirmed, thighs trembling, hips trying to lift, but his grip on you was unyielding. His fingers dug into your flesh, holding you right where he wanted, grinding his mouth deeper like he’d swallow you whole.

“God, Lino—”

Your voice cracked. Your head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut, hands yanking at his hair as your thighs trembled uncontrollably.

The second he felt you start to fall apart, the second your body tensed like it was already on the edge, he doubled down. Pressed his mouth harder. Flicked faster. Sucked until you sobbed out his name, your voice raw, desperate, trembling.

“Baby—”

His hum vibrated right against your clit, a low, pleased, filthy sound.

And over it all, the little red light blinked. Recording. Capturing everything. Every moan. Every gasp. Every trembling, broken little cry of his name.

Then, suddenly, his mouth was gone.

You gasped, body jolting like something vital had been ripped away. A sharp, wrecked little whine spilled out of you before you could even think to stop it.

But he was already moving.

Lee Know's hands slid off your thighs, trailing slow and heavy as he stood, smooth, controlled, like he hadn’t just had his face buried between your legs seconds ago. His fingers hovered over the console. One sharp click. Recording stopped. The red light faded.

He dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping his lips, jaw clenched, eyes dark, feral, and then looked down at you. That grin was back. Slow. Sharp.

“Guess you didn’t behave after all,” he said, voice low but razor-edged. “See how hard it is not to make a fucking sound?”

Your chest stuttered. Thighs still trembling.

Then... Click.

He tapped the play button. The speakers came alive. First, silence. A low hum of the booth. Your shaky breathing.

Then... him.

The obscene, wet sounds of his mouth on you. His lips, his tongue, everything. Loud. Crystal clear. The sticky, filthy noises of him licking, sucking, swallowing you down like you were the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

Then... you.

Your breath catching. That first sharp gasp. The whimper when his tongue flicked just right. The desperate, broken sob of his name that cracked right down the middle.

It was so loud. So raw. So real.

Your hands flew to your face, burning, shaking, thighs squeezing together like you could somehow undo it.

But it played on.

The sharp little moans. The sticky-slick, rhythmic sounds of him devouring you. The frantic drag of breath as you spiraled, helpless, drowning, undone, right into his mouth.

Then the silence at the end, brutal. Deafening. Just your shattered breathing, shaking through the speakers like an echo of everything he just did to you.

Stop.

The room went quiet. Too quiet.

Your hands trembled against your face, breath ragged, skin burning.

Then you heard it, his low chuckle. Smug. Dark. Completely unrepentant.

“Yeah.” He stepped forward, hands bracing on either side of the chair, caging you in again. His lips brushed your ear. “Now you're all cute.”

His hips pressed forward, and you felt it. Felt how hard he still was, how much this wrecked him just as much as it did you.

You blinked up at him, wrecked, wide-eyed, lips parted, and God, he drank it in like it was his favorite thing. His thumb dragged over your bottom lip, slow, possessive.

“You hear all that?” His head tilted toward the console, the glowing screen still displaying the audio file. “That’s what you sound like.” His smile curled, sharp, lazy, dangerous. “Pretty, isn’t it? You say you like hearing me sing, and I say I like hearing you moan.”

You swallowed, throat dry, hips shifting like you couldn’t help it, like your body needed him, needed more, despite the heat, the shaking, the overwhelming ache between your thighs.

And he felt it. Felt your hips roll, felt the way you pressed up into him without even realizing.

His hands shot to your thighs, gripped, yanked, dragging you to the edge of the chair so fast it knocked the breath right out of your lungs. His body followed, slotting perfectly between your legs, one hand fumbling with the waistband of his sweats, shoving them just low enough to free himself.

And fuck, he was thick. Flushed, leaking, heavy in his hand, already aching, already so worked up it made your head spin.

You barely got a second to look before... “Shh,” he breathed, and lined himself up.

“Lee—”

“Quiet, kitten.” His fingers squeezed your chin. “You didn’t listen earlier. You gonna be good now?”

You tried to answer. Couldn’t. Only managed a tiny nod, breathless, desperate.

“Good.” His lips ghosted yours. “Now that we've started, we go till the end.”

And then he pressed in, slow, but deep. Stretching you open, dragging a gasp straight from your throat. Your nails clawed at his arms, his shoulders, gripping anything, everything, as he filled you until there was nothing left but the feeling of him inside you.

Your head tipped back, mouth open, breath caught somewhere between a sob and a moan, and he caught it. His mouth crashed into yours, swallowing every sound, grinding his hips until he was buried to the hilt.

His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging deep, and then he moved.

Slow at first, dragging almost all the way out just to slam back in, punching broken sounds from your throat every time. The chair creaked beneath you, the booth barely muffling the wet, filthy sounds of skin against skin.

“Listen to it,” he rasped. “Fucking listen to it, kitten. That’s you. That’s what you do to me.”

And he was right. The sound of him filling you, the soft smack of hips meeting skin, the wet slide of him dragging through you, the wrecked gasps and broken little whimpers spilling from both your mouths, it was everywhere. Surrounding you. Swallowing you whole.

Your body jolted, a high, wrecked gasp punching out of you, thighs trembling, walls clenching around him so hard it made his hips stutter.

And then, he lost it. Hips grinding in deep, staying there, pushing so far you swore he was in your chest, spilling inside you, gasping your name. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, breath ragged, hands trembling where they still gripped you.

Silence. Except for the sound of your breathing, tangled, shaky, spent. Then, his voice. Quiet. Rough. Almost sweet.

“...Bet that’s gonna sound real nice on playback.”

—

A few days later, you found him working.

Headphones on, legs spread lazily, black t-shirt tight across his chest, one hand on the mixer, the other drumming against his thigh.

“Come here,” Lee Know said, not even looking, just a lazy flick of his fingers in your direction like he knew you were already walking toward him.

You padded over, heart skipping and leaned against the back of his chair. “What’re you working on?”

His lips curved, subtle. Sharp.

“Just checking something.” His hand tugged yours, pulling you into his lap without warning, like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arm slid around your waist, chin hooking over your shoulder as he clicked a file open on the screen.

The second you saw the screen, your stomach dropped. You knew which one it was., it was obvious: the track was named as "we made this together". And then... he hit play.

It started clean. Professional. His verse, smooth, sharp, perfect. God, his voice sounded so good. Confident. Steady. A little breathier than usual, but only someone who knew him would notice.

And you did. Oh, you did.

That breathy quality. The way his voice faltered, not enough to ruin the line, not even close, but enough for you to feel it right between your thighs. His vocals layered smooth, seductive.

But under it, buried low, barely-there, you could hear it.

You could hear yourself. The tiniest hitch of breath. The softest whisper, “Baby…” - barely above the track, but there. You knew it was there. Your voice, breathy, shaky, wrecked.

And then, God, the faintest, wet little smack. The sound of your lips on his jaw. His neck. Over and over. Subtle. Like a ghost haunting the track.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, stomach tightening, heat crawling up your spine like fire. Your face burned.

“Lino—” breathless, barely a whisper.

But he just smiled against your shoulder, lazy, smug, dangerous.

“Shh,” he hummed. “Listen to it.”

The next line came in, smooth but shaky. And fuck, you knew why. You could hear it in the way his voice trembled just a little on the vowel, breath catching perfectly like it was part of the rhythm, but it wasn’t. It was because of you. Because you were pressed right against him. Because your hands had been on him. Because your mouth was leaving kisses down his neck while he sang like nothing was happening. Like he wasn’t hard the entire time.

And then, right at the end... So quiet. So subtle. But crystal clear to you.

“God—baby—” Your voice again. Ragged. Gasped. Cut right through the track like it didn’t care about professionalism or production or anything else.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, wide-eyed, mortified.

His grin spread wider, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, utterly, devastatingly smug.

“Thought you’d like it,” he murmured, mouth brushing your ear. “Didn’t realize how pretty you sound on a track.”

You squirmed, thighs squeezing, nails digging into his arm.

“You’re insane,” you gasped, but it came out weak, breathless.

His hand slid lower, fingertips pressing between your thighs, right over your jeans.

“Yeah,” he rasped, lips dragging along your neck. “And whose fault is that?”

The song played on, his voice rich, perfect, and underneath it, the ghosts of what the microphone had 'accidentally' captured.

Little gasps. Kisses. Whispers. Your body. Him.

And no one would ever know.

Except you. And him.

taglist @velvetmoonlght @anjian03 @nightmarenyxx @nebugalaxy @annyeongffs @hanjisunnnng <3 (comment or dm me to be added)

+++ authors note: let's have more lee know fics y'all. please. I'M BEGGING.

[petvlss]

some photos because i literally am like sobbing. (not blaming the boys AT ALL not their fault. it was so much fun.)

[petvlss]

we did have so much fun for a lot of the songs. genuinely a great expirence (other than the heat)

rant under the cut bc i just got back from my 800 DOLLAR CONCERT and to say im pissed is an understatement

okay first off i should say NONE OF THIS IS SKZ FAULT!!! like truly bangchan was amazing he kept checking up on stays and was so fun and made sure we all felt good so please im not saying this is skz fault at all!

now that we have developed a safe space i’m like so annoyed right now like im laying in my hotel wanting to cry

so for starters it was like 90 - 100 degrees THE ENTIRE DAY and so the stadium was so fucking hot. skz were so clearly getting hot and tired and it made me really annoyed that they kept putting them in these like jackets as if people in crop tops weren’t DYING. (mad because they looked so tired i wish the stylists didn’t do that to them)

multiple people kept passing out to the point where they first, stopped the show, and second, CANCELED EARLY. i was so fucking excited for encore because it was my ONLY CHANCE to get an interaction and actually see them because my (800 dollar fucking tickets) were completely and totally blocked by both net, lights , AND cameras so i got to see pretty much nothing. and please don’t tell me to be grateful or something because truly not only did i spend 6 months working doubles just to save up enough for the ticket BUT i’ve been so excited about this since November and poof it’s gone

i’m not even really that upset about them stopping the concert early bc skz looked really tired and people kept getting sick so i 100% understand that but it doesn’t make it suck ANY LESS.

ngl the biggest thing i’m upset about it our seats like i tried to get an upgrade and everything bc we literally couldn’t see anything at all like it was really bad and they denied us both times. and the thing is i wouldn’t even be that upset but they never warned us on ticketmaster and how fucking expensive the tickets actually were.

like 800 DOLLARS?? FOR A SEAT I COULDNT EVEN FUCKING SEE IN.

imma be so fr right now i’m so done and i wish i could go to different stops, but i can’t because i barely had enough money to go to this one. like im just so disappointed right now and i wanna cry really bad.

i love skz so much and they truly did save my life. i’m just really upset right now i hope you guys understand

best of luck my loves. <33

[petvlss]

GIGGLES

Only you

Stray Kids Lee Know x reader

Summary: Lee Know dislikes everyone—except you—and his quiet actions prove it.

Word count: 599

Everyone at the company knew Lee Know didn’t like people.

He wasn’t rude—at least not intentionally—but he didn’t do small talk, didn’t smile just to be polite, and didn’t bother pretending to like someone if he didn’t.

So when you joined the choreography team and he started offering you water after practices, everyone noticed.

And when he waited for you to finish packing up before leaving—even if it meant sitting in the corner with his hood up, pretending not to watch you—your coworkers whispered.

You tried not to read into it too much. Minho was blunt, sure, but he wasn’t cold. Maybe he was just being… decent.

But then one afternoon, as you sat in the practice room tying your shoe, a loud trainee burst in, obnoxiously chewing gum and joking way too loud for a Monday. You winced as his voice echoed through the studio.

Minho’s jaw ticked.

“You don’t need to be in here,” he told the guy flatly.

The trainee blinked. “Huh?”

Minho stood up, arms crossed. “We’re using the room. Come back later.”

“It’s just five minutes—”

“Out,” Minho said, voice sharp. His eyes flicked to you, and something unreadable passed over his face.

The trainee left without another word.

You blinked up at him, startled. “You didn’t have to do that…”

He shrugged, avoiding your eyes. “He was annoying.”

“You literally train with him.”

“Doesn’t mean I like him.”

You laughed softly. “Do you like anyone?”

He hesitated for half a second. “Just one person.”

That made your heart skip. But you played dumb, tugging the laces of your shoe a little tighter. “Yeah? Who’s the unlucky one?”

Minho didn’t answer right away. Instead, he walked over and crouched in front of you, fingers gently pushing yours away as he redid your messy knot with expert precision.

“You always rush this,” he murmured. “No wonder you trip.”

Your breath caught.

He tied the last loop and looked up, gaze steady, serious.

“I don’t like people,” he said again. “But you’re not people.”

You swallowed. “What does that make me, then?”

His lip twitched in the faintest smile. “Something else.”

A beat of silence passed. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears.

“Minho—”

He stood up quickly, brushing invisible dust from his sweats. “Let’s go get food before practice starts again. My treat.”

“…You hate eating with people.”

“I said you’re not people.”

You smiled. “Okay.”

He didn’t take your hand or hold the door open or say anything particularly sweet. But he walked beside you, shoulders nearly brushing, and made sure you didn’t trip over the studio threshold.

That was Lee Know’s love language.

And it was loud enough for you to hear.

[petvlss]

QUIT WHY AM I SOBBING

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

genre: fluff

wc: ~ 700

pairing: fiance!seungmin x f!reader

cw: established relationship, soft drama, comfort, pure love for seungmin

not proofread

꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷꒦﹋ٜ۪ꥇ໋۬ ꒷

You were in the kitchen, humming quietly as you stirred the pot. The smell of the sauce filled the room, and the soft background playlist made the whole place feel warm and safe. It was a peaceful sunday, the kind of day you used to dream of sharing with seungmin

with your hands sticky from the seasoning, you walked to the sink to wash up. and that’s when it happened.

a little slip.

a cold sensation on your ring finger.

and then — clink.

the sound of the ring falling and vanishing down the drain was sharp, brutal.

you froze.

“what…” you whispered, staring at the sink in horror. your engagement ring. the one seungmin had proposed with just under two months ago. the one he designed himself, down to the lilac gemstone in the center — “because it reminds me of your eyes in the sunlight.”

your heart started racing.

“no… no, no, no, no”

you leaned over the sink, trying to see if the ring had gotten caught, but it was gone.

swallowed by the drain.

panic set in.

you grabbed a flashlight, tried to unscrew the pipe underneath, poked around with a coat hanger, a wooden spoon, anything. you even found a piece of wire in the storage closet. nothing worked.

and the clock kept ticking.

seungmin would be home from the studio in less than an hour.

you ended up sitting on the floor, back against the cabinet, hands covered in grime, eyes glassy with tears.

“he’s going to be so mad at me…” you said, your tears already falling in your cheeks

you could still hear his voice from that night, trembling as he slid the ring onto your finger, whispering, “will you be mine forever?” and now… now you’d lost it. because of some stupid careless moment.

that’s when you heard keys unlocking the door and the twist of the doorknob

when seungmin walked through the front door, it only took him three seconds to notice something was wrong.

“babe?” he called out, setting his keys down. “you okay?”

you didn’t even look up, afraid to face him, you were still on the floor, hands shaking in your lap, barely breathing through the sobs.

seungmin rushed over immediately, crouching in front of you.

“hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong? what happened? are you hurt?”

you shook your head, voice barely a whisper: “the ring… seungmin, it fell in the sink. it went down the drain. I tried to get it back, I swear I did, I tried everything. I’m so sorry, please don’t be mad at me…”

your tears were falling freely now, and you couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. but he pulled you into his arms without hesitation, holding you tight like he was shielding you from the world.

“hey,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. “look at me.”

you took a shaky breath and met his gaze.

“it’s just a ring, baby.”

“but it was our ring…” you sniffled, guilt pouring out of every word. “the one you designed. I was so careless.”

seungmin gently wiped the tears from your cheeks.

“you didn’t lose anything, okay? that ring was just a symbol of what I feel for you. and that? that’s still right here,” he said, placing your hand over his heart. “and here,” he added, tapping your chest with his fingertip.

your lips trembled as you tried to hold back another wave of emotion.

“but…”

“shhh,” he hushed, kissing your forehead softly. “if it matters to you, I’ll get another one. even prettier. more expensive, whatever you want. but don’t cry over this, okay? don’t be sad about something material. you’re worth more than any ring.”

you cried again, but this time, for the right reasons.

he hugged you even tighter, whispering: “promise me something? dont ever think I’d be upset over something like this. I love you. that’s what matters.”

the next day, he showed up with a little blue box.

“you didn’t have to—” you began, but he smiled.

“open it.”

you did. inside was a new ring — still with a lilac center stone, but now with two tiny diamonds on either side. on the inside of the band, there was a small engraving:

“even if we lose the ring, we’ll never lose us.”

you cried again. seungmin smiled and kissed you.

and that night, he did the dishes.

[petvlss]

AHHHAJHWHWJS ENWIEN

(translation: i love this so much as a plus sized girl please never pull a hyunjin and go bald.)

Case 143! //h.h.j\\

HyunjinxPlusSized!Reader, kinda slow burn? Friends to loversssss, she fell first he fell HARDER, flufffff

Warnings: a bit of like self-image stuff but not too much. Not edited as well as it could be. Tooth rotting fluff tbh. Hyunjin is a simp but ofc he is.

“Why do I keep getting attracted?? I cannot explain this reaction.”

Hyunjin thought he would never see you romantically, that is until he realizes too late that he’s fallen head over heels for you.

The day you met Hwang Hyunjin was chaotic from the very start. You had managed to sleep through all three of your alarms, barely made it in time for work, and thought your bad luck was over when you arrived at the coffee shop. However, as you quickly turned from the counter after grabbing your large iced macchiato, you ran directly into Hyunjin, who had been waiting his turn.

“Oh my god! I’m so so sorry!” You apologize profusely, looking for the nearest napkin dispenser. He was still in shock, looking down at his now stained sweater. “Um, I can buy you a new one?” You suggest, trying your best to clean up your mess without being weird and gropey.

“This sweater was a custom limited edition Prada.” He muttered, looking sadly down at himself. You felt your heart drop into your ass at the realization that this sweater was probably worth more than your entire existence.

“Oh, uh, well…” you trail off, still dabbing napkins against his sweater as your face flushes bright red.

“Don’t worry about it.” He gently rests his hands on yours and pushes them towards you. “I have a really good dry cleaner.” He gives a small smile and turns to leave.

“Let me at least buy you a coffee?” You grab his arm, stopping him before he could leave. “I need a replacement anyway.” You shrug sheepishly. He gives you a once over, trying to decide if you should be trusted before shrugging and agreeing.

“I’ll take an iced americano.” He replies softly before taking a seat in the corner.

Thus began your wonderful friendship. Hyunjin made it clear pretty early on that you weren’t his type, talking to you about the girls he liked or hooked up with. Almost in too much detail at times. He didn’t see you romantically, just as someone to hang out with. Someone who listened to him and liked to sit in silence with him while he painted.

At first, of course, you thought he was cute. You have eyes. But realizing he wasn’t interested in anything like that with you was enough to push you past those feelings quickly. Now, well over two years later, you two have settled into a comfortable platonic relationship.

“What do you need, Jinnie?” You answered the random FaceTime from your best friend, applying makeup to your face.

“Huh? What are you getting all dolled up for?” He asked, clearly forgetting whatever reason he had called you for before.

“I have a date tonight. One of my coworkers set me up with a friend of hers.” You responded simply, dabbing on some lipstick and not even looking at your phone.

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, watching you with furrowed brows. What was this feeling stirring in his stomach? Surely it wasn’t what he thought it was.

“Have you met this guy before?” He finally asked, clearing his throat.

“Uh, no. But I trust my friend. She wouldn’t set me up with anyone weird.” You shrug, now glancing over to see his concerned look. “Hyunjin, you go out with girls all the time. Don’t tell me you’re suddenly being protective.” You tease, laughing and shaking your head.

“No, it’s not anything like that. I’m just concerned… as your best friend…I want you to be safe.” He tried to argue, but the feeling in his gut kept growing and latching onto every fiber of his being.

How dare someone else get to see her beautiful smile. See how pretty she is with all of her makeup done- Oh my god, what? Get a hold of yourself, Hwang Hyunjin.

Hyunjin shook his head and dismissed the weird thoughts.

“Why did you call, Jinnie?” You asked, eyes narrowing on him in concern.

“Oh, I was just wanting to hang out while I paint. But you have plans, so no worries. Guess it’s just me and Spotify tonight.” He gives you a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes and waves before signing off.

A few weeks later, the two of you met up for a late night movie night. You wore what you normally would, a t-shirt and baggy pajama shorts, since you had no one to impress. When Hyunjin gave you a questioning brow, you teased him by saying,

“Changbin isn’t here, so there’s no point in dressing up.” Which earned you his signature side eye and made you laugh. You found your spot on the couch, scrolling through your phone while Hyunjin grabbed the snacks from the kitchen.

“They didn’t have the chips you like, so I-“ He stops short when he glances up at you sitting on the couch. His eyes locked onto your bare legs, which he had seen a million times at this point, and felt his heart lurch. You looked up at him in confusion, your brow slightly furrowing.

“Which ones did you get?” You reached out for him to hand you the chips, but he was frozen. You stand up and gently pull the bag from his hands, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re being weird.” You mutter before turning and taking your seat on the couch.

“I’ll be right back.” He quickly leaves the room, heading straight for the bathroom. Once inside, he splashes his face with cold water, patting his cheeks frantically. He then looks himself squarely in the eye through the mirror. “Get a grip, Hwang. This doesn’t even make sense. You just haven’t been with someone in a while. Yeah, just touch starved. That’s it.”He whispered to himself, taking deep breaths to steady his heart. After he finally calmed himself enough, he reemerged into the living room with a small smile on his face.

“You okay, bestie?” You looked up at him in concern. “I’m sorry if I took it too far with the Changbin thing. I was just joking.” You had clearly spent the last ten minutes wondering what could have upset him.

“No, it’s not that! It’s nothing, actually. I just had a weird stomach cramp.” He smiled assuringly and took his seat beside you. However, he almost immediately realized that he had sat too close and your arms were pressed up against one another.

“Feeling a bit clingy, are we?” You teased while leaning into him and he could feel the red slap its way onto his cheeks and quickly spread down his neck and up to the tips of his ears.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize-“ He moved to scoot away, but you grabbed his arm and stopped him.

“Oh, c’mon. It’s not like this is the first time we’ve sat this close.” You rolled your eyes and turned your attention to the movie. He, however, couldn’t look away from your side profile. The curve of your nose, your lips that pouted without even trying.

The second you left his apartment that night, he basically ran to his studio and began sketching you from his memory. Putting love and care into every single curve and freckle. It was frantic- his heart racing the entire time, his fingers trembling. As he sat back from his drawing, gasping for air, it finally dawned on him.

“Oh my god, I’m in love with her.” He muttered, all of the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. He was wracking his brain trying to understand when this happened, how this had happened. He swore he hadn’t been interested in you, that you were far from his type. He immediately stood up and began pacing his studio, muttering to himself and trying to figure out how this could have occurred.

Before he knew it, morning had come and he hadn’t gotten a minute of sleep. He entered dance practice that day looking like a zombie, especially with the dark bags under his eyes. The guys kept asking him what was on his mind, but he waved them off and gave excuses. He had barely grasped what this was, he wasn’t going to have them teasing him on top of it.

To make matters even worse, they had a comeback right at that time and so he wasn’t able to see you even if he had wanted to. Time seemed to drag on but he soon realized that it had been a month since he had last seen you. Since he realized his feelings. He found himself missing you, scrolling through his camera roll and looking at the photos he had of you. Textbook definition of lovesick (even though he hadn’t confessed his feelings yet). Being ever the observant one, Seungmin caught on rather quickly. He also had happened to glance over Hyunjin’s shoulder and see him sketching your smiling face on his iPad.

“Does y/n know you like her?” Seungmin asked quietly one morning over breakfast. Hyunjin choked on his soup, looking up at his member with wide eyes.

“What are you talking about?” He tried to ask cooly, but the terrified look in his eyes was dead giveaway that Seungmin was right.

“Hyung, it’s written all over your face. I’m guessing you haven’t confessed then.” The younger one nodded to himself and took a bite of his rice.

“I… I don’t know if I should. We have a good thing going right now. I think I’m just being greedy.” Hyunjin shook his head and sighed.

“You’ll never know how she feels until you tell her, Hyung.” Seungmin warned as he stood from the table and took his dishes over to the sink.

It had been at least a week since you had spoken with Hyunjin. While you missed him a lot, you also wanted to check in on him. He had been distant lately. So, you grabbed your phone and sent him a message.

He quickly stood up and quietly went to his room, shutting the door behind him. Just like magic, your face popped up on his screen. He opened the FaceTime call and smiled softly.

“Hey bestie! Haven’t heard from you in a while, so I just wanted to make sure you still liked me.” You teased, laughing. His eyes widened, afraid you had found out his secret. “Not like that, dummy! I already know that one.” You were sure his reaction was because he was shocked you made that assumption.

“R-right. Yeah, you’re still my bestie.” He smiled, his heart rate slowing. He felt like he was going to melt into the floor at the sight of your relieved smile. Had you always been this pretty? It seemed amplified now that he was pining for you. “Uh, have things been good for you?” He tried to seem normal as to not key you in to the fact that he was definitely memorizing the way your hair fell into your face right now so he could draw it later.

“It’s been good! I miss you, though. My work friends are okay, but who am I supposed to watch dramas with when you’re gone?” You laughed at yourself and felt a little sheepish at your admission. “Can we do a self-care drama night when you get back? I just got some nice face masks.”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” He smiled dreamily as he thought about it. He definitely wouldn’t feel nervous the entire time, no way. He’s the rizz-master.

His hands trembled so badly when he tapped on your door that he nearly dropped the drinks he was holding in his other hand. Why was he so nervous? He had done this a hundred times by now, if not more. His mind went completely blank when you opened the door in your baggy t-shirt and sweats.

“Bestie!” You pull him inside and wrap your arms around him in a tight hug. The sudden skinship had his heart pounding even harder than it was before. You pull away from the hug and smile up at him. “I’ve got everything ready! I’ll stick these in the fridge.” You take the drinks from his hand and disappear into your apartment.

Hyunjin wandered over to sit on the couch, wiping his now clammy hands on his sweats hoping you won’t notice. You sit beside him and excitedly begin pulling stuff out for your self-care night.

“Your headband, sir.” You hand him the llama one you had picked out for him a while ago, then you grab your frog one and you both push your hair back from your faces. “You’ve been traveling a lot, so I picked this one out for you.” You explain as you open a face pack and lean over to put it on his face. Normally, he leans in and closes his eyes, “sitting pretty” as you mentally called it. However, this time he moved out of the way with wide eyes.

“I-uh- I can do it!” He reaches for the mask, but you pull back frowning.

“We’ve always put them on for eachother… why are you being weird?… Do you have a new girlfriend?” You searched his face for answers, only to see his eyes somehow go even wider as his head shakes quickly.

“No! Definitely not!” He makes an “x” with his hands and aggressively shakes his head. “I just- whatever. Just put it on.” He leans in, his eyes closed and waits for you to gently put the mask on. Every touch feels like shocks of electricity, so much so that he finds himself holding back shivers.

“There we go.” You say slightly and sit back, admiring his handsome face before he opens his eyes and looks back at you. He quietly grabs your face mask and opens it, hesitantly reaching forward to put it on. Your eyes are closed, complete trust in him as you lean forward slightly.

“How did that double date go?” Hyunjin asked later as you two were letting your masks set and watching a drama.

“That was like forever ago, Hyune.” You tease, rolling your eyes. “I mean, it was fine. But he just wasn’t really into me. I could tell he didn’t expect me to look like this,” she gestures to herself as a whole, “when he agreed to the date. I guess I’m a bit of a catfish.” She giggled, shaking her head. His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked you over.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, so I don’t get what his problem was. And you look nice in all of your pictures, yeah, but you look just as lovely in person. He must be an idiot.” He grumbled, focusing on the tv.

“Jinnie! People are allowed to have a type. You have one and I’ve never said a word about it.” you tried to reason, looking at him in shock.

“Your type doesn’t determine whose name your heart chooses to call.” He says seriously, looking into your eyes. You feel the mood shift, see the intensity of his gaze. “I… I have been… realizing some things lately. About myself. And uh… about you.” His hands are trembling in his lap, but he knew he had to get this out now. “Y/n, you’ve been by my side for so long now. Through a lot of things. And I’m sorry it took me this long to see you. Truly see you.”

“Hyunjin, what’s happening right now?” Was all you could muster, eyes wide as you watched him carefully. “If this is a joke, it’s not funny.” You warned, frowning.

“It’s not a joke, y/n. I… I love you. I have for so long that when I finally realized it, it hit me like a ton of bricks. My heart calls your name. I find myself doodling sketches of you without even realizing. I-” He pauses, realizing his rambling and looks down. You sit there in stunned silence, your brows furrowed and eyes set directly on him. “Please say something. Anything. I-I know this is sudden, but I can’t help-“ before he can finish, you cross the space between the two of you and gently place a kiss on his lips. He lets out a squeak of surprise but melts into you immediately after, his hands holding your face tenderly.

When you finally pull away, you can almost see the hearts swirling in his eyes. There’s no need for words as the two of you smile at one another, gazes full of love.

“Thanks for finally seeing me, Hyunjin.”

(I got the Inspo for this from a “would skz date a plus sized person” tiktok and now we are here. Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed! Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗)

[petvlss]

After the End

🗝️— After months apart, an unexpected reunion at a glittering event stirs up buried emotions between you and Bangchan. Tension lingers, words are exchanged, and the past threatens to resurface. But sometimes, even broken rules leave room for one small exception.

pairing: bangchan x reader

genre: second chance romance, angst

warnings: some use of language, reader pushes bangcan a lil, could be seen as toxic???

word count: 1.0k

a/n: hiiiii i love this story a lot actually ! nothing much to say!! STRAY KIDS CONCERT TOMORROW AGHH (TYSM FOR 70 FOLLOWERS MWAH MWAH MWAHHHH)

Bang Chan remembers the day he broke up with you vividly.

To you, it was just a normal morning. You both woke up, exchanged sleepy goodbyes, and he left for work. You could tell something was off. He seemed distant, trapped in his own head, but you chalked it up to stress. Busy schedule, long hours, idol life. Nothing new.

Oh, how wrong you were.

When he came home that night, he lit the match. Quietly. Coldly. He simply told you he’d fallen out of love. And then, like it meant nothing, he told you that you had a week to move out.

You packed. You cried. You moved in with your best friend and sulked for weeks, hollowed out by a grief you didn’t see coming. You never thought Chris—your Chris—would do that to you.

But what you didn’t know was that he wasn’t doing any better.

You haunted that apartment. Your mug still sat in the cabinet. Your hair tie was still looped around the bathroom faucet. Your scent still clung to the pillows he couldn’t bring himself to throw out.

It’s been over three months now.

And tonight, being the face of Stray Kids, he was invited to another high-profile event. He got dressed up, fixed his tie, and headed to the venue.

The room was stunning. Gold decor, fairy lights strung across the ceiling, glasses clinking over soft music. He floated from conversation to conversation with a glass of champagne in hand, pretending to enjoy himself.

Until the air shifted.

He felt it before he saw you.

Then he turned, and there you were. The culprit behind every sleepless night, every aching lyric, every “what if.”

Taehyun from TXT had brought you as his plus-one. That made sense. He was your best friend, too. But all Chris could do was stare.

His eyes latched onto you like a magnet to steel. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t look away. He’d fucked up—he knew that. And he also knew how you felt about second chances.

You didn’t believe in them.

You and Taehyun made your rounds, smiling, waving, draining your social battery. Eventually, he drifted into another conversation, and you were left standing alone in a corner, clutching your glass.

Chris couldn’t stop watching you. The way your eyes scanned the room. The way you twirled your glass. He remembered how those same eyes used to light up just for him. How your laugh would echo in his ears hours after it left your lips. How your touch felt like home.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was standing in front of you.

He licked his lips nervously, smoothed the front of his shirt, and spoke, his voice nearly lost beneath the music.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes met his. Your breath caught.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Christopher.”

The edge in your voice made him flinch. You never called him that—not even during arguments.

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” he said, eyes scanning you. You looked beautiful.

“Ditto,” you replied coolly, your tone clipped, your expression unreadable.

The tension between you was suffocating. Thick and sharp, like glass suspended in the air.

“You look… good,” he offered with a weak smile.

“Thanks,” you said, forcing indifference.

Silence fell. Long. Uncomfortable.

“How are you?” he asked.

You saw his fingers twitch, like he wanted to reach for you.

“Living,” you answered with a sigh.

He nodded slowly. “That’s… good.”

Another pause.

“You’re here with Taehyun, right?” he asked, a hint of jealousy seeping through.

You hummed in confirmation, sipping your champagne.

“Are you two… together?” he added.

You snorted. “Goodness, no. I love him, but only as a friend. I could never date him.”

Chris exhaled. Relieved. And somehow, that made him feel worse.

More silence.

Then the question burst out of you before you could stop it: “Is there a reason?”

His eyes lifted to yours. Brows furrowed.

“I never got one,” you whispered, voice cracking. “Why’d you leave?”

He froze.

“I…” He struggled. “Is now really the right time, Y/N?”

“Dammit, Bahng! I deserve a reason!”

You raised your voice. Pain fueling every word.

His breath caught. His eyes darted around, checking if anyone heard.

“You want the truth?” he whispered.

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He exhaled shakily. Rubbed the back of his neck.

“Because I’m a spineless coward.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I’m stupid. I let my insecurities and fears take over. And instead of talking to you, I ran. I left. I hurt you because I didn’t know how to handle myself.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “So because you couldn’t get your shit together… I had to suffer?”

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “Sounds about right.”

You shoved him. Not hard, but enough to make him stumble.

“I loved you, you asshole!” Your voice broke. “I loved you!”

He reached for your elbow, the touch familiar and foreign all at once.

“And for some reason…” you whispered, “I still do.”

His eyes widened. “You do?”

You nodded. “Too much.”

He stepped closer. You stepped back.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

Hope shimmered in his eyes.

“I can’t do this,” you said, pulling away, turning toward the exit.

“Dammit,” he muttered, finishing his champagne in one gulp before following you.

He found you outside, sitting on a bench, staring at your phone.

For a long moment, he just stood there, watching. Then he walked over and sat beside you. He didn’t speak. Neither did you.

Silence stretched out between you again. But this time, it didn’t hurt.

Then, without a word, you leaned your head against his. His scent filled your senses, painfully familiar.

His breath hitched.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

“Christopher,” you whispered back—this time, without venom.

“Darling.”

You cut him off.

“You’re an asshole. A stupid, handsome asshole.”

He huffed a soft laugh. “I know. And I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him, voice barely audible. “But oh, how I love you.”

He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You could feel his breath on your skin.

“I’ve missed you,” he said.

You leaned into his hand—for just a second—before pulling back.

“I don’t do second chances.”

He nodded, slowly withdrawing his hand to rest on his thigh.

But he couldn’t let go.

“Please.”

One word. A thousand feelings.

You hesitated. Breath short.

This was your rule. No second chances. And yet—

After what felt like forever, you exhaled.

“One date.”

His head snapped up. “Really?”

You smiled. Softly. Sadly. “Really.”

His eyes lit up—brown and bright and familiar.

“You won’t regret it,” he promised.

“Let’s hope not.”

Taglist: @lixies-favorite-cookie @velvetmoonlght @felixsonlyrealwife

[petvlss]

would a guy rlly like me? ive never been told that someone likes me. 😐 maybe i really am unlovable to a certain extent. good job andrew. you were right.

[petvlss]

AGGHHH

I'd fall to pieces on the floor, if you weren't around

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Changbin X gn reader

Summary: You struggle with weight gain after taking a new medication.

Genre: Comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.2K

Eating disorder resources

Trigger warning: Weight gain, self-image issues, and brief mention of skipping meals.

A/N: I'm glad I could finally push this request out. Requestee, I hope this helps. Changbin would not want anyone to skip their meals or think they're ugly. Our bodies are so important and do everything they can to keep us alive. That is so special and this fic really highlights that. Please take care of yourselves <3

_ _ _

It turns out there is a hell on earth. It’s the bright fluorescent lights of the dressing room. A long rectangular mirror that leaves no flaw untouched. You tried to avoid meeting your own gaze. Once again, you reached down and attempted to button the waist of your pants, but to no avail. 

You gritted your teeth, sucked in your stomach, and pulled at the waistband once more. Why weren’t more jeans fitted with elastic waists? Why did the sizing always feel wrong? Most importantly, this was your size, so why wasn’t it fitting? 

You weren’t overly enthused about going clothes shopping, but when it came to jeans, you knew you had to bite the bullet. You risked a lot buying them online, so you decided to check out the nearest department store. You made sure they had the brand you liked before you came and now you were here. 

Just outside the dressing room, Changbin leaned against a white wall. He didn’t know how long you planned on taking. In the meantime, he texted Han about a new movie he thought he’d be interested in seeing. Unaware of your distress, he texted as if nothing was wrong. 

“Stupid fucking jeans,” you mumbled to yourself. You grabbed the sides, jerking them back down your body. You squirmed, nearly tripped, but then they were off. 

You folded them, just like how they were folded when you picked them up, tossed them on the nearby bench, and stared at the other pairs you grabbed. You grabbed three different shades of colors. A light-wash, regular denim blue jeans, and a pair in black. If you couldn’t wear the size you grabbed, those wouldn’t fit, either. 

You stared at the unworn pile, trying to swallow the forming lump in your throat. If you couldn’t wear the brand of jeans you always wore, it only meant one thing; you gained weight. 

You feared it, you always had, but there was no more denying it. When your jeans didn’t fit properly back home, you blamed it on the dryer. You assume you must have pressed the wrong setting, causing the denim to shrink somehow. You should have known, but you wanted to deny it. 

Bodies are everything in this day and age. From the way you look, to the facial features you don’t get to pick, they make, or break you. You thought you were doing okay. When the doctor prescribed a new medication and weight gain was a side effect, you shrugged it off, assuming it wouldn’t happen to you.  

The four square walls felt a little tighter. Anxiety brewed in your gut and you blinked rapidly. A wave of warmth overcame you, but you ignored it. You grabbed your sweatpants and quickly slipped back into them. Wiping at your eyes, you sucked in a deep breath. 

A shirt still awaited you. You grabbed it because you liked the way it looked. Determined not to look at your reflection, you jerked your shirt over your head, and wiggled into the new one. Something was off instantly. It didn’t cover your stomach fully. You sucked in your stomach, but even then, it didn’t fit. 

Your teeth clamped into your bottom lip. Your eyes squeezed shut and you sucked in a deep breath. Part of your brain tried to say it was okay, but the other part screamed at you. You were pathetic. Ugly. Gross. 

Fat. 

You ripped the shirt off, as if it was on fire. It hit the side of the wall and slumped down inside out on the jeans you folded. Your arms crossed over your body and your head ducked down. Nobody could see you, your boyfriend waited for you outside, but you felt so alone. 

Insecurity always hung around and today it clamped onto your heart. Your worth shattered on the ceramic floor. The burn of hot tears came so fast, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you reached up and pressed your fingers against your eyes, trying to stop them. 

“Stop it,” you weakly whispered. “You’re fine. Just be normal. It’s not a big deal.” You pulled your hands away and fanned your face. Rapid blinks helped the forming tears dissolve. 

It took you a few moments to collect yourself. You jerked back to the mirror to check your eyes and that’s when you caught the stretch of your skin. Bright marks pulled your attention to them. You knew you were gaining stretch marks, but you had no idea it was this bad. You were hideous and you hated who you turned into.

You briefly made eye contact with yourself, enough to make sure your tears were gone, and then you steered yourself back to the bench. In your shirt, you felt so much more comfortable. You refolded the shirt, grabbed the jeans, and headed outside. 

At the sound of an opening door, Changbin pushed off the wall and grinned. “You’re back!” 

You nodded and forced yourself to smile. “Yeah, I’m back. I’m sorry I took so long.” 

“No worries, I’m texting Han. Did it go alright? Did they fit?” 

It was a harmless question, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell the truth. You nodded and reached out for his hand. “Yeah, let’s check out and head home.” 

“Already?” 

“Yeah, shopping makes me feel really tired. The lights are so bright and there’s so many people. I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to be. I mean, unless you have somewhere you want to go?” 

“Nah, I don’t think so.” His fingers curled around yours and he led you towards the cash registers. “Let’s head back home and find something to do there. I feel like a home day might be good for us. We’ve both been so busy lately.” 

He looked at you like you made the stars, but you didn’t notice. Too stuck in your head, you didn’t realize just how much he loved you. You walked to the counter and paid for the clothes, pretending that they really did fit. They would fit and you’d make them. 

Even if you had to skip a few meals, you’d get back to your size no matter what. 

~ ~ ~ 

Back at home, you took your bag of new clothes through the house and into your shared bedroom. Changbin giddily followed you, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. As you pulled open the bag to put them in the dresser, he snuck into the room and shut the door. You glanced over your shoulder when the door clicked. 

“Okay, I’m ready!” He jumped forward, springing onto the bed on his stomach. 

“For what?” 

“Your fashion show! Duh! What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t hype you up?” 

You froze and your face fell. You quickly jerked your head back to the dresser, but it was too late. He already saw the panic in your eyes. He pushed himself up, worried that something was wrong. “Hey, are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I-I just-” Your brain went into overdrive. “I’m just not feeling very fashionable today. I just tried them on back at the store and I don’t think I’m feeling jeans much anymore. I had the epiphany while I was trying them on.” 

He groaned and jerked himself onto his back. “But I was looking forward to the fashion show! I waited all that time and held up the dressing room wall for you.” 

“You know what I look like in jeans.” 

“But these are new jeans!” 

“I’m getting a headache.” 

He huffed and grumbled to himself. Like a toddler, he kicked his feet. “I can’t believe that-” 

A wave of anger swept through you. Usually, his antics didn’t bother you, but you were already so upset about the way your body looked. Disgusted and humiliated. Your words tumbled out so fast and you couldn’t stop them.

“I can’t try on the jeans for you because they don’t fit, Changbin! There! That’s why! Are you happy now? I don’t want to show you because they don’t button. I’ve gained weight, I’m fat, and ugly, and gross.” 

His head snapped over to you and his face fell. “They don’t fit?” 

You kept your back to him. You weakly shook your head and shut your eyes. “No.” 

“Baby, you didn’t have to buy them if they didn’t fit. We could have sized up and it wouldn’t have been a problem.” 

“Did you not hear the part where I said I’m fat and ugly?” You weakly laughed, trying not to cry, but your laugh cut out. A bottom lip trembled and you wiped at your eyes. 

Changbin quietly got up and snuck behind you. Strong warm arms wrapped around your waist. “You’re not fat and ugly.”

“I gained weight from my medicine.” 

“That’s okay.” 

“No, it’s n-not. What if you realize I’m ugly now? What if I try the next size and they don’t fit either?” 

His arms gently squeezed around your torso. “Take a deep breath, you’re spiraling.” 

“I have new stretch marks a-and I-” Your eyes squeezed shut, but it wasn’t enough to stop the salty tears from poking through. “I feel so ugly.” 

“I know you might feel ugly, but you’re not ugly. It’s okay to gain weight and it’s okay to lose weight.” His head gently fell against your shoulder. “What’s not okay is to call the love of my life ugly. You’re not ugly now and nothing will ever make you ugly in my eyes.” 

“But the stretch marks…” 

“What about them?” 

“They’re gross.” 

“Why? What makes them gross? Because the way I see them, your skin is stretching to protect you. It’s keeping you safe. You think I don’t have stretch marks?” 

“Huh?” 

He pulled away from you, reached up, and tugged the sleeve of his t-shirt all the way up. It took a few moments, but he finally found what he was looking for. “This right here,” he pointed to a faint mark. “This is one of my stretch marks. They formed after I started to gain muscle.” 

“But you're not fat,” you whispered. You spun around, so you could see. 

“You don’t have to be fat to have stretch marks. They form when you grow and you might think they’re ugly, but I don’t. My skin is stretching to accommodate me. That’s not ugly, there’s beauty in that.” 

Your eyes lingered on it and you sniffled again. He continued speaking. “There is nothing disgusting and evil about stretch marks. So many people have them. You shouldn’t hate yourself just because you have them.” 

“I don’t know how not to.” 

“You hate your body right now because people have told you that you should. I’m here to tell you that you should listen to me because I love you.” He let go of his sleeve and it fell. 

His hands reached up and gently cupped your cheeks. “The human body is amazing and wants to keep your organs safe. The skin is stretching to keep you safe. No matter how bright they might be right now, they’ll fade.”

“If you’re worried about gaining weight, you’ve kinda lucked out.” A soft smile quipped up on half his face. “You’ve got me and I’ll help you with it, if that’s what you wish.” 

“Are you going to make me drink your chicken breast protein shakes?” 

He laughed and shook his head. Black hair bobbed and your distress started to melt. “No. I won’t make you drink them, but if you ever want to try one, I-” 

“No thank you.” 

“That’s okay. You don’t have to do whatever you don’t want to do.” 

You nodded and your eyes met his. “Thank you for making me feel better.” 

“It’s an honor, a privilege, and always a delight. Do you know what you do to my heart? Ugh, I love you! You’re worried about being fat? Watch this!” 

“What are you– hey!” You shrieked as he dipped down and jerked you over his shoulder. You dangled with your hands towards the ground. “Where are we going?” 

“Out to have lunch because you’re not skipping your meals and I can hear your stomach growling. Hang on tight, spider-monkey.” 

“Did you just quote Edward Cullen?” 

He laughed, causing your body to vibrate. You rolled your eyes and dangled with defeat. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” 

“Let’s see if I glitter in the sunlight. If I’m a vampire, I’m turning you. I’m not being an immortal without you. Wait!” He paused and he raised an eyebrow. “If I was a vampire, does that mean Chan would be my enemy since he-” 

“Don’t start with the Chan is a wolf conspiracy.” 

“But he picked his pack and everything!” 

“No.” 

“It’s canon!” 

“Changbin!” 

“I need to call Han and get his opinion.” 

There was absolutely nothing you could do as you hung over his shoulder, besides sigh and hope he put you down sooner, much rather than later.

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike @bokkiesluv @phinnyphinnegan

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[petvlss]

i thrive when making art. (it makes me feel good.)

[petvlss]

the worlds gonna know my name !!

[petvlss]

One Big Squeeze

🫐— When the weight of the news becomes too much, you break. You spiral into a panic attack fueled by the weight of the world. Good thing Han was there and he knew exactly what to do.

Pairings: anxious!reader, comforting!han, bf!han

word count: 382

a/n; I wrote this at @lixies-favorite-cookie's place and so its not the best. Just a wee drabble i thought of after having a panic attack.

“Babe, please take a breath,” your boyfriend, Han, whispered, gently guiding you to sit on your shared bed.

You were having a panic attack. Over what, you may ask? The world possibly ending.

You knew it was a bad idea, reading the news constantly, but you were hooked.

“He said—but what if—” a small whine escaped your lips.

All your thoughts strung together in a perfect storm of anxiety. You couldn’t even form a full sentence.

“No more ‘buts’ or ‘what ifs,’ okay?” Han said firmly, yet gently. “Now, air in your lungs. Please, baby.”

You nodded, trying your best to steady your breathing. Just like he taught you: Smell the flowers, blow out the candles.

But it was easier said than done.

Your breathing stayed shallow, uneven, panicked.

Han watched you for a moment, then stepped in again. “Five things you see, babe.”

Your eyes darted around the room. “Um—the wall, the pictures, uh—the lights, you, the TV?”

“Good. Four things you can feel.” He rubbed your arms slowly, grounding you with every pass.

“The sheets… my shirt… the mattress… and your hands.”

His lips curved into a small smile. “Good, baby. That’s really good. Now, three things you can hear?”

You nodded. “The TV… my heartbeat… your voice.”

“Perfect. Now—two things you’re feeling inside, right now?”

You hesitated. “Uh… jittery. And… not human.”

He nodded like he understood, even though his face betrayed the ache in his chest. Then he opened his arms wide.

“Last one. One big squeeze?”

You practically leapt into his arms.

“It’s gonna be okay, baby,” he whispered, voice low and steady. “All is okay.”

He repeated it over and over like a quiet prayer just for you.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours—his arms around you, his voice a soft hum in your ear. And you just breathed. Slowly. Finally.

When you eventually pulled away, the room felt calmer. Lighter.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “For everything.”

Han shook his head, brushing a hand through your hair. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Your lips lifted into a soft smile. “No, you. No one else can pull me back from a panic attack in minutes.”

“I just gave you the tools,” he said gently. “You helped yourself.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

Taglist; @lixies-favorite-cookie @velvetmoonlght @felixsonlyrealwife

[petvlss]

Hiii! Can I be tagged in boy next door please? :)

yes ml! i will tag you in the next part!

[petvlss]

Would I really be missed?

[petvlss]

i feel sick. but i dont have a fever. maybe the sickness is your voice ringing in my head.

[petvlss]

haiii pls add me to your permanent skz taglist!! I'm so excited for boy next door to finish so i can binge it all!!

ofc ml! you seem so cool and im so glad that its bingable! :)

[petvlss]

im gonna publish this book. i am.