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skzstarl0ver · 3 days ago

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𝙂𝙮𝙢 𝘽𝙧𝙤

Changbin x reader / friends to lovers / jealous! Changbin/ smut and kinda fluff

**involves!!** public sex, teasing, praise kink, sexual touch, dirty talk, 'you are mine' vibe

enjoy xx (open for request)

★.•☆•.★★.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★ skzstarl0ver ★⡀.•☆•.★⡀.•☆•.★¸.•☆•.¸★

You weren’t sure how exactly you ended up here—doing Romanian deadlifts at 9AM, sleep in your eyes and thighs already trembling—but it definitely had something to do with the loud, sweaty, infuriatingly attractive man currently shouting encouragement from behind you.

“That’s it, keep your back straight. Yeah, just like that,” Changbin said, voice annoyingly smug. “You're doing so good, bro.”

You glared at him through the mirror.

“Stop calling me ‘bro’ when you’re basically breathing down my neck.”

He grinned, not the least bit sorry. “I’m your gym bro. That’s literally in the contract.”

You huffed, lowering the weights carefully. “I don’t remember signing a contract.”

Changbin shrugged, handing you your water bottle like the menace he was. “Verbal agreement. You said—and I quote—‘fine, if you stop whining, I’ll go to the gym with you.’ That holds up in court.”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to think about how his hand brushed yours for half a second. Or how good he looked in that black tank, arms practically audible with how jacked they were. This was fine. You were fine.

Just friends.

You’d been telling yourself that for months—ever since you moved into the same building and he offered to show you the gym “because it’s less creepy if we go together.” What started as two friends trying to not embarrass themselves doing squats turned into protein shake mornings, late-night core challenges, and Changbin texting you every time you missed a workout like some kind of jacked golden retriever with abandonment issues.

But somewhere between shared sweat towels and spotting each other mid-bench press, you started noticing things.

Like the way his eyes always found you in the mirror.

Or how he always picked the machines closest to you.

Or how he never looked at anyone else the way he looked at you when you hit a PR.

And maybe you were imagining it, but lately… things felt different. He stood a little closer. Let his fingers linger on your lower back when correcting your form. Gave you this look when you stretched after workouts—like he was trying really hard not to say something.

You weren’t imagining that. Not today.

Because today, someone else was looking at you.

Changbin noticed him first. Some guy from the other side of the gym, shirtless under an open hoodie (the audacity), clearly checking you out mid-set. You hadn’t noticed—you were too busy wiping sweat off your face—but Changbin? He was laser-focused.

He didn’t say anything, but the shift was instant. His jaw tightened. His form correcting got a little more hands-on. His “good job”s came with firm pats to your hip or shoulder. And when you tried to laugh it off, he didn’t.

It all came to a head in the locker room.

You were sipping your shake, scrolling on your phone, still riding the high of the workout when the door opened and slammed shut behind you.

You turned around, startled, only to be pinned gently but firmly against the lockers by a very serious, very flushed, very not smiling Changbin.

“Bin—what the hell?”

His hands were on either side of your head, eyes locked on yours, chest heaving slightly—not from exertion, but something heavier. Hotter.

“You didn’t see him,” he said, low and sharp. “The way he was looking at you.”

You blinked. “Who—?”

“The guy by the bench rack. He was practically eye-fucking you right in front of me.”

You froze, your stomach flipping. “Okay… and?”

“And I didn’t like it,” he growled.

He moved closer, just enough that you could feel the heat of his skin, the sharp scent of citrus and sweat and something distinctly him. His voice dropped to a near whisper.

“I’ve been trying so hard to be chill. To be your gym bro. Your friend.” He laughed, almost bitter. “But then someone else looks at you, and suddenly I’m one second away from throwing hands just because they don’t get to touch you.”

You stared at him, breath caught somewhere in your throat. “...Who does?”

He swallowed, gaze flicking from your lips to your eyes.

“I do,” he said simply. “Or I want to. If you let me.”

It was too much. Too sudden. Too perfect.

So you did the only thing that made sense—you pulled him in by the collar of his tank top and kissed him like he was oxygen after a drowning.

He kissed you back like he’d been waiting all damn year.

When you finally broke apart, gasping, foreheads pressed together, he chuckled—soft and breathless.

“Guess I’m not just your gym bro anymore, huh?”

You smiled, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Guess not.”

He leaned in again, this time slower, more sure of himself.

And as his lips met yours, you thought—maybe working out wasn’t so bad after all.

You hadn’t even fully caught your breath when Changbin pulled away from the kiss, his gaze dark and unreadable, lips swollen from you.

He didn't say anything. Just looked at you for a long, heated second—then bent slightly, strong arms sliding under your thighs before you could so much as squeak.

“Binnie—what are you doing?!”

“Carrying what’s mine,” he muttered, voice low and wrecked, like the words cost him control. “You said yes. No way I’m letting you out of my sight now.”

You looped your arms around his neck instinctively, barely able to process the ease with which he lifted you like you weighed nothing. His biceps flexed under your hands, skin hot and slick, and you swore your brain just short-circuited from how much man he was.

The locker room door clicked shut behind you. But he didn’t stop. You didn’t even ask where he was going. You already knew.

The sauna.

That quiet little room tucked away at the back of the gym, warm even when empty, usually ignored at this hour.

Perfect.

The second the door closed behind you both, he let you down—slow, careful, like he was scared you’d vanish if he moved too fast. The heat wrapped around you instantly, thick and humid and heady. But it had nothing on the way Changbin looked at you now.

Not teasing. Not playful.

Devoted.

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” he said softly, tracing your jaw with the back of his fingers. “Do you know how hard it was? Watching you stretch in those damn leggings, laughing at my protein shakes, calling me ‘bro’ when all I wanted to do was pin you down and prove I’m not just your friend?”

Your breath hitched. “Why didn’t you?”

He smiled, slow and hungry. “Because you deserved better than a heat-of-the-moment hookup in a locker room.”

You swallowed. “And now?”

He leaned in, lips brushing yours. “Now you know how I feel. Now it’s your choice.”

The air crackled between you. Your fingers curled in the hem of his shirt. “I want you, Bin. I want this. I want you.”

The second the words were out, he kissed you again—but this time it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate.

It was intentional.

He tasted like salted skin and mango pre-workout. His mouth moved over yours with a gentle hunger, hands cupping your jaw like you were breakable and holy all at once.

And when he laid you down on the wooden bench, one hand under your neck, the other sliding along your waist—he made sure you felt everything.

The slow drag of his body against yours. The soft, reverent kisses down your collarbone. The way he murmured your name like a prayer against your skin. He touched you like he knew every inch already, like he’d spent months memorizing how you moved, how you sighed, how you fell apart.

And the whole time, he kept whispering:

“Tell me if it’s too much.”

“You’re doing so good.”

“I’ve got you. I always got you.”

And it was slow—so achingly slow—but somehow even more intense than anything fast and frantic could’ve been.

Because he wasn’t just claiming you.

He was cherishing you.

When you finally came undone under his touch, trembling and gasping, he held you through it, forehead pressed to yours, breathing just as ragged.

Afterward, as you lay curled against his chest, sauna heat mixing with the afterglow, he ran his fingers lazily down your spine and whispered, “Guess this makes me your post-workout recovery, huh?”

You snorted against his shoulder. “You’re so annoying.”

But you didn’t stop smiling.

Not even when he kissed the top of your head and whispered, “And you’re mine now. Finally.”

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