pairing: boyfriend!changbin x female!reader
genre: nsfw! university au, established relationship, romance, drama, porn with plot/smut
word count: 13k
synopsis: while your boyfriend looks the part of the stereotypical bad boy in every teen romcom—yes, he even got the sleeve tattoo down and goes to bars in the shadiest neighborhoods—he’s actually a science geek who is too whipped for you and refuses to take you anywhere that could put you in danger. done with his babying, you decide to act more recklessly, leaving changbin to clean up your mess which includes astronomical hangovers and severe side effects from a science experiment gone wrong.
part of the forever after series
tags: mdni. medicinal chemistry major!changbin, anthropology major!reader, changbin has a comically low pain tolerance but that doesn't stop him from getting more tats, heavy alcohol consumption, changbin makes recreational drugs in the name of science, cameos of hyunjin, itzy’s chaeryeong and ateez’s wooyoung, jisung being subjected to mandatory community service is the start of a running gag and i will die on this hill
smut tags: dom!changbin (soft/pleasure/hard he can do it all!), aphrodisiacs and unknowingly ingesting them, fingering, pillow and thigh humping, multiple orgasms, protected sex, also unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, begging, praise, corruption kink, blue balling, aftercare
a/n: icb i revived this ancient remnant of a blog to spread the agenda of big buff bad boy binnie aesthetic + 3 smut scenes = ABSOLUTE CINEMA
There’s no other person in sight when you and Changbin step into the tattoo parlor. The place is dimly lit and the walls are decorated with tattered concert posters of bands you only recognize by name, as well as several framed pictures presumably displaying the tattooist’s work. The tattoos vary in all different sizes and colors, but the artist’s personal flair stays consistent throughout; bold strokes and intricate shading are prominent in every design you can think of.
For Changbin, this place is his scene. For you, this place screams shady all over.
It doesn’t help that the parlor is hidden in a small alleyway. As if trying to navigate through a labyrinth, you and Changbin had to take many turns through back streets that looked all the same before arriving at the run-down building. The only closure you have is that the artist is someone Changbin has known for the longest time, and since they were the one who did all of his previous tattoos, you can take your boyfriend’s words for granted.
“Are you alright?” Changbin asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You blink. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“You’re crushing my hand.”
Upon realizing that you are indeed, seemingly about to crush his hand, you instantly loosen your hold but keep your fingers intertwined. In an attempt to ease your nerves, Changbin continues, “We can leave if you want–”
“No!” you cut him off with a raised voice that pierces through the Whitesnake song playing from the speakers in a moderate volume, then add in a softer manner, “This is just new to me. Besides, I asked if I could come along. See it as a new experience for me.” Truth be told, you didn’t ask; you annoyed him until he reluctantly agreed to let you join him to his appointment.
Then again, you weren’t supposed to catch wind of it in the first place. Blame Jisung for being a loudmouth who can’t keep his mouth shut. What goes around comes around, and he sure is repenting by completing his mandatory community service.
Changbin’s about to reply when a sharp voice cuts in. “Yah! Seo Changbin!”
A young woman emerges from the employees only room. Her jet-black hair is tied into a high ponytail, and a lopsided grin is etched on her lips. She’s dressed in black, the sleeveless tee showcasing the abundance of tattoos on her left arm. Long, black branches are inked all over her shoulder and stop midway below her elbow. There are only a few pink petals sparsely decorating the branches, the rest cascading down her arm until the last specs of ink reach her wrist. Besides the delicate petals, other patterns are adorning her skin, strokes much bolder than the tree. You faintly make out the outlines of a billiard table and poker cards, the art style reminiscent of pop art comics. Despite the opposite art styles of the intricate tree and casino concept, the combination looks oddly harmonious.
“I’m older than you.” Changbin scowls, but the playfulness in his eyes still shines through.
“Since when do you care about formalities?” She snorts and they complete a complicated handshake before her gaze flits to you. “You brought company this time? That’s new.” Although there’s no judgment in her tone, you still feel like you’re being interrogated. The woman eyes you curiously, and after a while, she outstretches her hand. “I’m Chaeryeong. Interested in getting inked too?”
You notice her firm grip when you accept the handshake. You’re about to reply when Changbin beats you to it first. “She’s only company,” he says sharply, then detangles your fingers to wrap an arm around your hip, tugging you closer to him. Startled by his actions, you blink at him alertly, but he remains indifferent. Seems like Chaeryeong is also stunned, but then a beat passes, and the corners of her lips tug into a small but knowing smile.
“Glad to know that you listened to my advice and came here with emotional support in tow. You really need it,” she hums before turning to you. “You know, his pain tolerance is nonexistent. I almost fucked up all of his tats because he wouldn’t sit still and went on a crying rampage. For God knows how many hours straight, he was like ‘Wah, Chaeryeong, I’m gonna die!’” Her rendition of Changbin’s tantrum is comically exaggerated, yet it earns her a giggle from you and a punch in the shoulder from Changbin.
“C’mon, let’s get this over with,” he grumbles, ignoring Chaeryeong’s whines that he shouldn’t have hit her dominant arm. (“You do know that I’m going to be drawing on your arm with this hand, no?!”)
Fortunately for him, Chaeryeong doesn’t prolong it further and leads the two of you to a different, more sterile-looking room. As Changbin slips out of his leather jacket and makes himself comfortable on the tattoo chair, Chaeryeong points you to the stool beside him.
“So, Mr. No pain tolerance, how are you feeling?” you tease once Chaeryeong is out of earshot. Changbin’s ears sport red.
“Just so you know, Chaeryeong was blowing things out of proportion,” he insists, “I’m a big boy.”
With the jacket gone, his bare arms are on display and you’d be lying if you said they weren’t a sight to see. Changbin’s gym endeavors have fruited impressive results, and the half sleeve tattoo on his right arm complements the muscle he’s built up. Out of all the intricacies that stop at this elbow, the wolf is by far the most mesmerizing one he wears, with its sharp gaze, ragged fur and bloodshot eyes.
It wasn’t until you moved in together that you found out he had tattoos in the first place. You accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom, jaw slackening at the sight of him shirtless and his right arm on full display. Changbin mirrored your stunned expression, racking his brains for any reason to justify the tattoos, but every word that left him flew past your ears. All you could focus on was the black ink cascading down his upper arm, coming to life with every movement his muscles made.
Hence, the start of your Changbin’s arms hyperfixation.
Chaeryeong returns, this time with vinyl gloves covering her hands. “You better not be screaming like a bitch like last time.” She sends Changbin a pointed look before she takes a seat and begins with the prep work. Changbin instinctively locks his free hand into yours. You look at him bewildered at first, but at closer inspection, you notice how he’s slightly trembling even though all Chaeryeong did so far was apply rubbing alcohol to disinfect his lower arm, then use a disposable razor to shave off any fine hairs. Trying to make him relax, you squeeze his hand in reassurance. Fortunately it works, and he reciprocates the gesture.
“Brace yourself, the next step is where he usually cries,” Chaeryeong says offhandedly once she peels the stencil off. She was nice enough to elaborate on all the crucial steps she was taking before she could use the tattoo gun. Changbin stayed silent throughout the ordeal, gnawing on his bottom lip while she was explaining how the stencil transfer made her job much easier.
“Does it really hurt that much?” you quip.
“Fuck, yes.”
“Depending on your pain tolerance.”
They share an unreadable look for a moment, Chaeryeong being the one to break eye contact first. “Anyway, I need complete silence while I do the linework. And yes, that includes as little squirming as possible, Seo Changbin.”
“Always dropping the honorifics,” Changbin swears under his breath, earning a slight elbow jab from the other. “Ow! Is this how you treat a customer?!”
“This is the preferential treatment only you deserve. Mwah.” Chaeryeong sends him a crooked, half-assed smile. Stamping the conversation as done, she turns around to prepare the tattoo machine.
When Chaeryeong said Changbin had no pain tolerance at all, she wasn’t lying.
You don’t know much about tattoos and your very limited knowledge about the process of getting a tattoo is courtesy of Google. According to the Reddit forums you browsed through in the middle of the night, it should only hurt for the first minute or so before you get used to the sting. It varies from body part to body part, but generally, the forearm shouldn’t hurt so much.
Changbin’s still wheezing in pain ten minutes later.
Luckily he isn’t squirming erratically, but the pained cries that leave him aren’t any more pleasant. He winces as Chaeryeong works silently, lips pressed together in a firm line. Meanwhile, you feel like he’s about to break your bones with the iron grip his hand has engulfed yours in. But you manage to suppress a whimper.
The only reason Chaeryeong keeps up with him is because they’re childhood best friends, and if she could endure his bullshit from twenty years ago, she can endure it now. Besides, she lacklusterly admitted that she likes tattooing buff people. It’s easier to work with, or so she claims.
Most of the work is done once she finishes tracing the outline. By the time she takes a quick break to grab water for all of you, Changbin looks like he’s gone through an out-of-body experience.
“Is it over yet?” he asks dazedly.
“Only shading left.” Changbin groans at Chaeryeong’s reply, squeezing his eyes shut and probably questioning if this was truly worth the pain.
“You’re still alive. Don’t act as if I’m taking you to hell right now.” Chaeryeong rolls her eyes in unbothered annoyance. Changbin doesn’t lash back, only grabs the cup and downs it in one go.
“Heads up, the worst part is over already,” you say softly in an attempt to perform damage control. While your boyfriend doesn’t reply and gives you a weak smile that reaches his eyes, Chaeryeong hums approvingly.
“You’re right. The worst is over. Usually he’s all numb from the outlining, so shading should be a breeze. Also, he’s more bearable and can actually hold a proper conversation now.”
She’s right. Changbin is certainly more receptive to talking and much saner than before. It’s almost as if his lapse never happened. Though occasionally he inhales sharply as Chaeryeong works the ink into his skin.
“How’s uni going?” she asks to distract him further from the pain.
“The usual. Though lately I’m cooped up in the lab for this project and it’s killing me,” Changbin sighs, enjoying the way you run a thumb over his knuckles.
“Oh, really? Tell me more about it.”
“We’re recreating drugs.” Chaeryeong does a double-take. Her eyes meet yours and you know that you’re looking just as mortified. Now, this is the first time you’re hearing that. However, Changbin doesn’t seem to notice the gravity of his words and continues casually, “We’re trying to find a way to make use of the euphoric effects drugs provide but take out the risk of addiction.”
“You’re recreating drugs,” Chaeryeong repeats blankly. She blinks a few times before she resumes her work. “Does that mean you can make ecstasy?”
“Are you hearing yourself?” Changbin scoffs, as if that was a stupid question to begin with. “Of course I can.”
“Sweet. Can you hook me up with it?”
“No.”
“Jeez, I was just joking,” she deadpans but quickly drops the subject. She catches a glimpse of you before speaking again. “How long have you two been dating?”
“Uh.” The question came unexpectedly and you’re not even sure if Chaeryeong is asking you, but given that nobody has interjected yet, you clear your throat. "It’s about to be six months.”
“And we live together,” Changbin adds a tad too proudly for your taste.
Chaeryeong does another double-take. Not only is she at a loss for words, but she’s definitely thinking how sketchy that is, going by her furrowed brows. “You haven’t even been dating for half a year and already live together?” As quickly as the outburst came, it disappeared in a matter of seconds and she continues her work, voice much calmer this time. “Looks like Changbin’s really whipped, then.”
“Yeah, I am.” Your heart skips a beat when you hear the fondness in his voice. But then you see that he’s looking straight at you with the same fondness, a fondness that only someone madly in love could wear on his face, and your heart stops dead in its tracks.
Admittedly, you can understand why a few question marks popped up when people found out you shared an apartment. Only fools would move in together after dating for mere three months. But what can you say? Like every college student who was financially independent from their families, you saved money wherever you could. You were both in need of a roommate, you both trusted each other, and with your biggest fight being a debate about prioritizing the purchase of a rice cooker vs. an air fryer, you didn’t have any worries.
Besides, at least you can now make out without the fear that someone could walk in.
“God, you’re so tacky. You should introduce your girlfriend to the rest of us soon—no, you should’ve introduced her to us much earlier!” Chaeryeong sulks until all of a sudden, she looks up to you with sparkles in her eyes. “Hey, we’re meeting at the Topline next week and you should definitely join us!”
Before you get to ask what on earth the Topline is, Changbin dismisses the prospect sternly. “That’s out of question.”
“Why not? I’m hurt,” Chaeryeong fires back with her eyes glued to his skin, tattoo gun buzzing in her grip.
“And let half of you impose your corruption kink on her? I think the fuck not.”
Corruption kink? Is that really what Changbin thought of you? You may not be the most experienced there is out there (God forbid the first time you gave Changbin a blowjob; it definitely was… your technique had room for improvement. Lots, even. But hey, you improved and that’s all that matters!) but it’s not like you didn’t read the nastiest guilty pleasure fanfics on the internet when you were a teenager.
“Most of us have the decency not to try something with someone taken.” Chaeryeong’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
“There you go. Most of you.”
Upon that comeback, Chaeryeong doesn’t have anything to deflect with. In the end, she settles with “As if you’re not one of them too, monogamist.” Changbin shoots her a warning glare.
The topic dies down soon after and Chaeryeong stops talking at some point, too immersed in completing the tattoo. Changbin reminisces a bit about his joint past with her, back when they were still toddlers and Chaeryeong shit her pants in the backyard, but she soon lashes back with a set of embarrassing endeavors Changbin went through in his teen years. You fight the urge to laugh then and there, and promise Changbin to take his moments of shame to the grave, yet silently thank Chaeryeong for providing these stories.
Hours pass and eventually, Chaeryeong does the finishing touches to the new sleeve extension. Positioned right underneath the head of the wolf, it’s a pine forest that takes up the entire space of his lower arm.
“I don’t expect any other customers today, so take your time,” Chaeryeong says after bandaging him up and leaves the room first to clean her equipment.
Changbin rolls his shoulder back to get rid of the numbness in his right arm before he carefully slips into his jacket. You’re contemplating bringing up the topic of meeting his friends again because that thought hasn’t left your mind and Changbin’s reaction didn’t sit right with you. You’re thinking of dropping it altogether since he must have his reasons and you don’t want to foul his mood, but then—
Oh, fuck it. You don’t have anything to lose.
“So, about the Topline—”
“No.” His answer is firm and before you can counter, he sighs deeply and meets your bummed expression. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet the rest of my friends I grew up with, but it’s better if you don’t.”
Your brows scrunch in irritation. “Why? As long as you’re there it shouldn’t be a problem, no? Unless there’s some dubious backdoor business they’re partaking in?”
“Dubious backdoor business—God, no, it’s nothing like that,” Changbin grabs you by the shoulders and stops in his sentence after a moment of hesitation. “It's just… let’s say there are a lot of physical confrontations at that particular bar.”
“Chaeryeong made it sound like you still frequent that place quite often,” you mumble. You don’t process what you said until seconds later, and when you see the perplexity on Changbin’s features, you realize you stepped on a landmine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that—”
“It’s alright. I get it. Sometimes I ask myself why I still go there too.” He says it like someone who’s accepted the fact that their cigarette addiction is going to last for the rest of their life. “Remember when I told you I used to be a troublemaker who did some questionable things? We didn’t do illegal stuff or anything that’s super messed up, just questionable. I might’ve grown from that phase, but some of them didn’t. You’re better off not knowing some of them, really.” He means the last part, almost as if he wished he never met them himself.
Before the mood can get any more depressing, he leans forward to press a chaste kiss on your lips. “The only person worth meeting is Chaeryeong, to be honest. She’s the one who stuck along since day one.”
“Well, she did tell interesting stories about your past. The cherry pie incident was amusing to hear,” you muse, earning a warning glare from him.
“We don’t talk about the cherry pie incident. You promised you'd take that story to the grave,” he reminds you stoically, but the facade drops in an instant when you peck his lips. Gone is the unreadable expression as you reduce him into a flustered mess.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you swear, giving him a wink before leaving the room.
Chaeryeong looks up from her phone when you finally step foot into the… lobby? Main room? Room filled with band posters and blasting Green Day from the speakers? That room.
The payment goes smoothly. Changbin pulls out several banknotes from his jacket and you gawk at the amount he’s brought. No sane person would carry that amount in cash, but perhaps it’s an unspoken tattoo culture thing. The two banter a bit and Changbin eventually decides to go to the toilet, leaving you with Chaeryeong.
“It was nice meeting you,” she says, the corners of her lips quirking upwards.
“Huh?” You have to stop being so caught off guard by the casual sentences. “I mean, likewise.”
If Chaeryeong finds your initial reactions off-putting, she doesn’t let it show. After a moment of deliberation, she pulls out a small business card and starts scribbling something on the back of it. Once she’s done, she walks around the counter until she’s standing right in front of you. You flinch when she grabs your hand without warning and drops the business card in your palm.
“In case you ever feel like stopping by at the Topline. The directions on the internet are a little confusing.” Chaeryeong sounds like an angel, but the mischievous glint in her eyes tells otherwise. You stare at her wide-eyed, slowly peeking down to give the card a slower inspection. You recognize the main street and surprisingly enough, the bar isn’t too far away from it and not hidden in a maze like the tattoo parlor. “Our little secret, yeah?”
You return the smile. “Our little secret.”
“Quit hogging my girlfriend.”
You quickly hide the card by pulling down your sleeve. Luckily, Changbin doesn’t seem like he heard a word of your conversation. After saying your goodbyes, he additionally flicks Chaeryeong’s forehead because ‘it’s what she gets for dropping honorifics’. Chaeryeong jabs him playfully in the chest as payback.
“You got yourself a good one, Seo Changbin,” she says after engulfing you in a hug. Changbin only rolls his eyes but the slight blush that dusts his ears doesn’t go unnoticed. “Stop by again soon!”
The weeks pass by uneventfully.
Once Changbin’s skin stopped peeling off three weeks in, he almost threw a party for being able to wear his long-sleeved compression shirts again, leaving little to the imagination.
Then again, he resorted to fitted tank tops instead or ditched a shirt completely whenever he was at home, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Your brain ran haywire every time Changbin stretched and reached for something, zeroing in on the ink moving with his muscles. You also found yourself imagining him with tattoos covering his other arm, first wondering which designs would suit him (perhaps a little more color besides red?), but it quickly morphed into a daydream of how delectable his arms would look in sleeveless shirts, both covered in ink. Once that image solidified in the forefront of your mind every time he entered your peripheral vision, along with thoughts so degenerate you didn’t know your mind could conjure, you knew you needed an orgasm for a brain reset.
An alternative would be to ask him to just get a second tattoo sleeve done, or even gift him a surprise appointment because he did tell you in the past that he plans on getting his left arm done eventually, but that reeks a bit too much of self-gratification.
Unfortunately, as a byproduct of being paranoid about infecting the new tattoo, the best Changbin could offer you was a peck on the lips when all you wanted was for him to throw you on the bed. You forced yourself to touch some grass every day to keep your sanity intact and not reach into the depths of your mental spank bank, pull out the vibrator and cum then and there. As much as you were lusting after Changbin, you were not giving him the satisfaction of your sexless-induced meltdown because he wouldn’t pound you into the mattress. You briefly debated whether you should just get yourself off while he wasn’t at home, but you’re a terrible liar and he reads your face like an open book.
Suffice to say, it devastated you that the weeks passed by so uneventfully.
The more rewarding it is once he frees you from his self-imposed sex ban and is sitting on the couch with you grinding on his lap, both of you still fully clothed. His hands latch onto your hips and set a moderate pace as your lips crash onto his. The neediness takes him by surprise, but he’s quick to match the energy and slips his tongue into your mouth, enticing a whine out of you. It’s downright pathetic how fast he’s reduced you into a whimpering mess, begging for more, and you hope he doesn’t realize you’re more sensitive than usual.
“Someone’s impatient,” he pants into your mouth, struggling to hide the smile and the groans forming at the back of his throat. Another uncoordinated lip lock, then he pulls away to bunch your skirt up and grant himself access to your damp underwear. He wastes no time pushing your panties to the side and runs a finger over your slick folds.
“A-aaa-ah, fuck– and who’s to blame for that?” you choke out, digging crescents into his buff upper arms. Changbin isn’t even applying a lot of pressure and you’re already at the brink of seeing stars. You’re too far gone to be surprised, too drunk on his touch to notice the growing bulge under his pants.
“Talking back? That’s new.” Changbin raises a brow at you, followed by an appreciative hum. “I like that.”
With one arm wrapped around your waist for stabilisation, he spreads your folds apart with his other hand to ghost a finger above your clit. You lurch forward at the motion, body trembling from the slightest microactions.
“Changbin, m-more— hnhg,” you plead, aching to thrust your hips into his touch. But he’s holding you steady by the waist, rendering every movement useless.
It hasn’t been that long since you discovered that Changbin loves it when you ask for him more, demand more. Although you are still struggling to get past the indignity of verbalizing anything further specific than ‘more’, he doesn’t mind.
It’s okay, he said. Baby steps, he said.
He doesn’t keep you waiting for so long and as you wish, flicks your clit in a steady rhythm. Smugness settles on his features as he relishes the broken sounds coming out of your mouth. “That’s it. Attagirl.”
The remark is all it takes to send you six feet under. Coincidentally, it hasn’t been that long since you discovered that you love it when he talks you through it. Ever since Changbin clocked that, alongside the way you clench around him every time he praises how good you are to him, how perfectly your tight pussy is taking him to the hilt, he’s been abusing your weakness like a cheat code.
But he isn’t unfair. He’s a giver through and through—a generous one, so.
“Want more, huh? Fuck– I’ll give you more. Everything my baby wants." The words drip from his mouth like honey, a proud smile painted on his lips as you unravel under his touch. The pretty sounds from your lips, the way your fingers grip his arms for dear life, he drinks it all in and it still isn’t enough.
Everything you want is everything you get, so he slips a finger inside of you while his thumb flicks over your clit with more pressure than before. It’s everything you want and yet, it’s too much at once that you’re writhing under his control, incapable of forming any coherent thought.
Meanwhile, Changbin settles on assaulting your neck in kisses and nibbles, adding a second finger while keeping the pace of his hand constant. “Fuck, baby, you’re so, so good to me.”
The arm around your waist has loosened and by the time you realize it, you’re already riding his hand like a maniac. Your moans reverberate across the living room, so loud and unfiltered that an innocent bystander would think you were a freak virgin if the walls weren’t soundproof.
You’re so close to chasing your high, close to tasting it, when all of a sudden the default iPhone ringtone blares from Changbin’s phone. The ear-deafening sound rips you a new one, and Changbin is just as delirious, hand coming to a freeze.
The ringtone stops. A beat passes. And then his phone rings again.
Irritation makes its way onto Changbin’s face, and before he can throw the phone across the room, the ringtone stops again.
“I cannot be bothered with this shit,” he mutters before leaning in for a kiss, ignoring the obnoxious ring to the best of his ability.
The phone rings a third time. This time, the standard ringtone is replaced by a Tiger JK song. Changbin tenses.
“Fuck, supervisor’s calling,” he curses under bated breath and tears away for good this time, “I’m sorry, I really have to take this.”
Before you can complain, he pulls his fingers out of you, lifts you off his lap and gently sets you on the couch. In a matter of seconds, he’s scrambling for his phone on the coffee table and rushes into your bedroom to take the call, leaving you utterly confused with a throbbing core and the fading reality of an orgasm.
You blink.
What the fuck just happened?
You still haven’t recovered when he reappears in the living room, fixing his hard-on in his pants to be less noticeable. A wave of frustration and regret flushes on his face as he slips on his leather jacket.
“You’re leaving me. Just like this? That’s it?” The crack in your voice is all it takes for Changbin’s face to fall. It is cruel after all; weeks of the slightest of touches and the most innocent of kisses, waiting patiently for most of his tattoo to heal—all that for a build-up of a much-needed and very overdue orgasm that vanishes through a single phone call from his supervisor.
“Emergency at the lab.” Words cannot describe how thick his guilty conscience is weighing on him. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“Tonight?”
“I’ll be coming home late.” Upon hearing those words, your expression sours. The justification that follows isn’t any better: “I bailed on my friends too many times and Chaeryeong will have my head if I don’t show up today.”
“At the Topline?” you ask.
Changbin nods. “I’ll be back before you realize it, promise.”
And just like that, he leaves you alone in your apartment.
Now, you know where Changbin’s loyalties lie. Hell, you’re not one to make him decide between you and his friends. He always prioritizes you over everyone else, as proven in the case of Felix and Yeonjun.
However, he’s never left you with figurative blue balls before. And to expect you to suck it up after the past weeks?
The audacity.
Out of courtesy and respecting his wishes, you refrained from contacting Chaeryeong even though the Topline has been gnawing at the back of your head ever since you met her. The business card is still hidden in the pocket of your coat, with her number and directions to the bar.
Changbin played himself out of that courtesy with his stunt.
The text you send to Chaeryeong is a mere one-liner. ‘Hey, it’s me! I heard you’re meeting at the Topline today, would love to join!’. Ten minutes later, your phone rings with her contact lighting up the screen.
“I was wondering if you would ever reach out,” Chaeryeong muses once you pick up. “So, what did he do this time?”
The direct question startles you. How often does Changbin get into trouble for her to break the ice with this?
You don’t bother questioning the rationale and reply, “I want to get back at him.”
“Damn, he must’ve fucked up. Hell has no fury like a woman scorned.” A laugh escapes from the other line. “Alright then. Meet me at the subway station at 9. Come as your best. See you then!”
Come as your best, said Chaeryeong. Who are you to question her?
For someone who is not well-versed in the art of a sultry smokey eye, pride fills your chest when you add the finishing touches to your makeup. It took you approximately an hour to complete this makeup look, and prior to that, a run to the next department store followed by a loss of ten bucks on your bank account for purchasing a drugstore eyeshadow palette that you will solely use for this occasion.
The little black dress clinging to your skin is barely long enough to forego the safety shorts, but it hugs your figure in all the right places. You take a mental note to wear this dress more often, even if it requires you to go out at night more often. Then again, this is the only appropriate going-out dress you have in your wardrobe. Thank God you didn’t throw it away during your last closet cleanout. Otherwise you would’ve been stuck with the choices: 1) flowy skirts and basic tees, 2) gray joggers you’ve owned for five years counting along with the ugly pink furry sweater—it’s so ugly it’s cute—or 3) paying too much money for a cheaply produced polyester dress that you will only wear once.
And because you are only doing this to subject Changbin to a night of pain and suffering and another round of blue balls, you slip on his favorite leather jacket before hurrying to the subway station. Some would call it pettiness; you prefer karmic retribution.
“You aren’t here to play,” Chaeryeong whistles as she eyes you from head to toe, visibly pleased with what she’s seeing. “Tonight will be fun, especially since there will finally be another woman at the table!”
Wasting no time, you head over to the Topline. Reminiscent of Chaeryeong’s tattoo parlor, the moderately packed bar is designed in rocker fashion with dark wooden furniture, band posters and political stickers sticking haphazardly on the wall. It reeks of smoke and musk and if it weren’t for Chaeryeong by your side, you would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb.
As Chaeryeong guides you to the round booth tucked in the far left corner of the room, the guy already sitting there looks up from his phone and spots you immediately. A wolfish grin flashes on his lips as his eyes linger a beat on your jacket, immediately clocking the context.
“I’m Wooyoung,” he grins at you after hugging Chaeryeong. “Binnie’s been hiding your identity for so long. Now I can place a face and a name to the lucky lady.”
The silver ring dangling on his bottom lip glistens in the lighting, and you see the faint outlines of a tattoo peaking out of his high collar. Perhaps Changbin had a point with his reluctance to introduce you to this set of friends. It’s not like he’s keeping you a secret—you crashed plenty of his and Felix’s Genshin sessions, and proofread Yeonjun’s assignments too many times for Changbin’s comfort. But their personalities and first impressions weren't as brash as Wooyoung’s and certainly didn’t make you feel like prey served on a silver platter.
Blame it on the tattoos and lip ring. Although by that logic, Changbin should also count as someone you should be wary of.
“You came in time.” Wooyoung tears you out of your inner monologue. “Jinnie’s ordering the first round for us and– ah, speak of the devil.”
Your jaw nearly drops when your line of sight focuses in on the newcomer, the strands of jet black hair and abundance of jewelry on his neck all too familiar.
“Hyunjin?” you gawk.
Hyunjin mirrors your expression, blindly setting the tray of Baby Guinnesses on the table. “Wait, you’re Changbin’s girlfriend?"
“You two know each other?” Chaeryeong’s eyes flit between the two of you, grabbing one shot glass as she slides into the booth. “Same major or something?”
“We work at the museum together,” you answer.
“Similar majors,” Hyunjin adds, “She does anthropology, I do fine arts.”
“It isn’t similar–”
“It’s similar enough for these dumbasses.”
“What a small world we live in,” Wooyoung interrupts your banter and slips a shot glass into each of your palms. “We can reminisce later. But first, bottoms up!”
To your surprise, you down the shot with ease, the taste of sweet coffee liquor lingering on your tongue. Hyunjin was smart enough to order two glasses for everyone and before you know it, you’re holding the second shot to your lips and finishing it in one go.
From then on, everything’s a blur.
Time passes in the blink of an eye. One moment, Hyunjin is bombarding you with questions on how you met Changbin and how the fuck he never made the connection since he sees you twice a week and has to mute Changbin’s number whenever he overthinks what to cook for you. In the next, an abundance of shot glasses and soju bottles appear on the table out of thin air. At a certain point, Chaeryeong leaves your group and directs her attention to the hot bartender mixing up tequila sunrises, while Wooyoung is trying to convince you in slurred syllables to also get tatted up or at the very least, commit to a lip ring too. This sends Hyunjin into a spiral of complaining in solidarity with Jisung’s absence, and he brings up the conspiracy theory that Jisung unjustifiably ended up doing mandatory community service because the cops mistook him for someone else who also happened to have a lip ring. Place your bets on whose fault it is that Jisung got a lip ring?
Sandwiched between the two as they bicker, you only laugh at the absurdity of it all and reach forward to pour yourself a new soju shot. Wooyoung takes this opportunity for mischief and snatches the bottle away from you, gulping the remaining liquor in as few sips as possible. It takes all clogs in your brain a hot minute to understand what he’s aiming for and a cut later, you’re balancing your half weight on him to steal the bottle back.
“The fuck is going on here?”
Your vision is also too blurry to make out the details of his face, but the familiar voice rings in your ear, causing you to jump off Wooyoung and grin sheepishly.
“The man of the hour is here!” Wooyoung ignores the comment happily and then adds in a sharp tone. “You’re late!”
Changbin’s eyes are set ablaze as he stares you down in silence, processing the entire predicament. You’re too far gone to notice the harshness in his gaze or the way he swallows once he realizes that you’re wearing his jacket, only giggling as an aftereffect of the alcohol flowing through your veins.
Changbin opens his mouth and shuts it quickly, deliberating where he should start. In the end, he settles with, “Some fucking sleazeball—,” if looks could kill, Wooyoung would’ve been dead yesterday, “—ignored the lab calls so I had to step in and take care of it.”
“As you always do! I can always count on you!”
“Fuck off, Wooyoung,” Changbin sighs and then turns to you, “More importantly, what are you doing here?”
“What do you think?” you snicker, more than tipsy.
Changbin narrows his eyes. “How much did you drink?”
“Not a lot.”
“And now the truth,” he deadpans, unimpressed by the exasperated theatrics you give him.
“I wasn’t lying!”
By then, Hyunjin made some space for Changbin to slide next to you. He tilts your chin up, closing the gap between your lips. You’re leaning in closer, giddily awaiting the kiss when he pulls back and mutters, “Yeah, your breath says something else.”
“Seo Changbin, you don’t tell a woman her breath stinks!”
“Shut up Chaeryeong.” Changbin rolls his eyes, earning him a scoff from Chaeryeong, who just returned from the bar with more concoctions she probably sweet-talked the poor bartender for free, with empty promises of a hookup after his shift. Changbin grabs your wrist and tugs you out of the booth with him. “We’re leaving.”
“But you just arrived!” you complain.
“We’re leaving.” The finality in his tone leaves no room for bargaining. He doesn’t even give the rest of his friends an ounce of his attention or the opportunity to say goodbye, even though he swore to go crazy with them tonight.
All sequences happen in rapid succession, from leaving the stuffy bar to the cold wind on the streets, from All Time Low blasting in your ears to the faint sounds of traffic on the main road. Changbin maintains a fast tempo, his grip a vice on your wrist. Coordination was never a skill of yours even while sober; therefore, it comes to the point where he’s dragging your drunken figure through the alleyways as if you were a ragdoll. Everything happens so fast that your legs struggle to keep up with his footsteps and your head is moments away from spinning with vertigo.
“Changbin, too fast,” you pant, not able to tell whether he caught your plea or not. Alcohol has never been your strong suit, and the consequences of not figuring out your limit when you were still in high school bite back in this moment. Something is bubbling up in the back of your throat, constricting your ability to speak. You try another attempt at catching Changbin’s attention with a measly pat on his arm, and when that doesn’t work, you force the words past your lips. “I think I need to–”
Before you can register anything else, you’re hurling over a trash can and your legs give up.
The next time you’re conscious, it’s in the safe haven of your bed, accompanied by a raging hangover.
“Easy there.” Changbin is sitting on a chair next to you, eyes lifted from his phone.
“My head hurts,” you groan as you push yourself up on your forearms, annoyed by the sunlight glaring into your face. All you remember is the absurd amount of liquor you basically inhaled in a span of a few hours. Perhaps also bantering with Chaeryeong, Hyunjin and Wooyoung. Maybe even how you left the Topline with Changbin and maybe, just maybe, how he was holding your hair up as you were puking your guts out into a public trash can.
Oh, how becoming one with the bed would make last night’s events disappear in an instant.
“I’d be surprised if your head didn’t hurt after you blacked out.” Changbin grabs the cup of water by the nightstand and holds it up to your lips. “Drink.”
His lips are pressed into a fine line as you obey him diligently, only pushing away his arm once the cup is empty. Silence envelopes the room as he keeps a close eye on you adjusting to the daylight. Once he deems you conscious enough, he picks up the plate of scrambled eggs, sausages and toast and places it on your lap.
“Now eat.”
Glad that he’s not spoon-feeding your breakfast to you, you ask groggily. “What time is it?”
“Midday.”
Lunch it is, then.
It’s a rare occasion that Changbin only watches you without any comment. Usually he’s one to spill everything going on in his mind, be it about the research project that he only begrudgingly agreed to for the prospect of skipping mandatory exams, or date ideas, because unlike public perception, he is the resident romantic between the two of you. Which is why his silence concerns you even more, because the only times Changbin is very careful about choosing the right words is when it’s very serious.
“About last night.” You shut your eyes in defeat once those words leave his mouth, knowing what’s coming next. “I’m not even going to question how everyone there already knew that you were coming along. I told you not to go there. What were you thinking?”
“Does it matter?”
He sends you a look of disbelief, as if you were dropped multiple times as a baby. “Yes, it does! It’s your safety we’re talking about!”
This is ridiculous. You literally just woke up, trying to pull through the aftermath of the drinking fest and Changbin thinks this is the best time to reprimand you for your lapse of judgment?
The toast in your mouth begins to taste vile. “Are you saying I cannot take care of myself?”
The bitter undertone in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Changbin runs a hand through his messy hair. Realizing that the conversation is slowly turning south and so not what he was hoping to achieve, he tries a different angle along with a softer voice. “My friends are a lot—”
“Chaeryeong is nice.”
“She’s the exception. Hyunjin for example—”
“He’s my colleague. We work together. Which, by the way, you probably knew of yet you didn’t bother telling us.” You arch a brow.
Changbin’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Okay, it’s just Wooyoung. He’s the textbook definition of trouble.”
“I thought that was Jisung?”
“The point is,” he stresses and takes a deep breath before resuming with, “You got blackout drunk. God knows what would’ve happened if I weren’t there.”
“But you were there.”
The rational part of you knows better than to egg him on. This is already a sensitive issue for him, this overprotective side of him—or so he likes to call it. In your eyes, it is something more akin to guilt or obsession or a culmination of both. But neither has there been the right timing to bridge that conversation, nor is it in your best interest to start the war now.
The damage has already been done though, judging by the way Changbin clenches his jaw.
“I think I should go to the lab now.” He presses a chaste kiss on your forehead that comes off more as a gesture of obligation before standing up from your side. “Get enough rest. If you need more meds, I put them on the kitchen counter.”
Before you can regret your attitude, he is already out the door.
Contrary to popular belief, Changbin’s love languages are acts of service and gift giving. You know better than what most people would assume. Therefore, it doesn’t surprise you when he arrives home at dinner time with a takeaway bag from your favorite restaurant in his hand.
That being said, Changbin also has his way with words. There’s a reason why he first considered a music career before settling for the more realistic prospects of a STEM degree. (Technically speaking, he applied for the forensics program, just so that he could blow up cars in the lab and call it his job, but wasn’t accepted. Medicinal chemistry followed as a backup plan after an eye-opening conversation with one of his seniors who raved about the pay of big pharma.)
You cut to the chase as he puts the paper bag on the kitchen counter. “Sorry about last night. In retrospect, that was really stupid of me to do so.”
“Sorry about this morning,” Changbin responds, a soft smile etched on his lips. “I didn’t mean to lecture you like that.”
He’s halfway through unpacking the contents of his takeaway order when you engulf him in a hug, face buried in the crook of his neck. Almost instinctively, he wraps his strong arms around your waist and the two of you linger in silence, the soft, brimming sound of the fridge filling the void.
“Already forgiven But…” you trail off, choosing your next words carefully, “did something happen that made you so… overprotective?”
The question startles him. He blinks and for a brief pause, you second-guess whether now is a good time to bring up the question burning in the back of your skull. Perhaps it’s a little too early to stir up that hornet’s nest.
“I guess,” Changbin starts and you release the tension in your shoulders that you’ve unconsciously built up, “since we sometimes have vastly different circles, I didn’t want to scare you off. I know you sometimes find my preferences quite intimidating.”
You squint. “You think you scare me off? Even though I was the one who suggested moving in together?”
At the mention of that, Changbin chortles. “You have a point. I know it’s stupid, I’m probably projecting— hmpf—”
Sometimes, for his own good, he talks too much. Cut off by your kiss, it takes him a second before he reciprocates earnestly. Changbin’s kisses are slow and controlled, filled with love that takes up all the space in your lungs. All insecurities and previous arguments are long forgotten as you try to coax more out of him.
As they say, forgive, never forget. And while Changbin makes you relent in many things, not even his lips can make you forget how he left you drowning in frustration.
The kisses grow in intensity, deeper and more forceful. You lightly tug on his bottom lip, drawing a breathy moan out of him. Anything for him to finally get it. Addicted to the constrained sounds he is making, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug on the tufts of hair at his nape. The unexpected force takes him by surprise and you can only imagine his dick twitching in anticipation.
Changbin recognizes your ulterior motives too late. He groans into your mouth once you force a thigh between his legs, pressing hard on his bulge. Though it cost him his entire willpower—you know, because he is a weak man when it comes to you—he breaks off the kiss and places his forehead on yours, breath shaky and hands trembling.
“Food’s getting cold,” he says weakly. It’s a final warning; if you don’t take the bait, he’s going to devour you.
“Food can wait. You still owe me from blue balling me yesterday.”
Changbin doesn’t need to be told twice.
His hands are cupping your face and his lips never detach from yours as he blindly guides you to your bedroom. He doesn’t let go of you until the back of your knees hit the bedframe, then wastes no time stripping you out of your clothes. You’re about to complain why he’s taking his sweet time, but then he pushes you on the bed and hovers above you.
“Yesterday really did a number on you,” he says, discarding his own clothes with a subtle smirk on his face, and your eyes can’t help but center on his tattoo-covered right arm and the flex of his bicep. It costs you everything not to tackle his arm and leave marks on it.
“A-ah– all your fault—” is all you can manage as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone and lets his hands freely roam your body. Not a single crevice of your body stays unexplored. His breath lies heavy on your skin, unrelenting as he sucks on your most sensitive spots. All you can do is lie there and take it, hands gripping the sheets as marks you all over. You shiver when the pads of his fingers graze over your nipples, and arch your back with a contained moan when he flicks both of them.
“It’s all my fault you’re like this. I’m sorry.” Even though his ministrations tell a different story, he really means it, given the tone in his voice. “I’ll take care of you.”
True to his word, he knows how to take care of you.
“Shame on me for not giving my pretty girl what she deserves,” he sighs and you jolt when he snakes a hand down to your bare cunt. “Look how wet you already are, and all I did was kiss you.”
Changbin has his way with words, and your reactions to them don’t escape his attention. Deep down, you’re certain he has a mean streak and finds pleasure in the way you writhe underneath when he showers you in care, taking the heavy work off you. Even if he’s looking at you with stars in his eyes, there’s an underlying edge to his gaze that you haven’t quite grasped yet.
He wastes no time slipping two fingers into you, slowly pumping them in and out. Your stomach swoops, bucking your hips to chase the feeling. A cry leaves you when his thumb simultaneously flicks your clit, and you actually feel like crying when he doesn’t pick up the pace. It’s so slow, too slow, and you start to believe that this is an even worse treatment than being denied your orgasm when you’re seconds close to reaching it.
“Changbin, I’m going crazy if you don’t– hhh–” the desperation is dripping from your voice, and yet, he stares down at you in awe, “—if you don’t put it in right now—”
“Patience, baby,” Changbin mutters, though he doesn’t make any attempt to change his actions, “I promise it’s worth the wait. I’ll treat you good.”
He speeds up a little and that’s all it takes to have you gripping his shoulders for dear life. His fingers hit all the right spots that send you into overload and have your toes curling, but it’s the last curl in the right angle that has you sobbing uncontrollably. It’s a dream come true, how Changbin gives you everything and more, but before you can reach the height of your climax, he pulls his fingers out.
You’re about to whine in retaliation, because this is far from good treatment, until he brings his fingers up to his lips and brazenly sucks your slick off his digits, eyes never leaving yours.
“Tastes sweet,” he grins.
Hell, this man is out to ruin you.
You don’t have a comeback prepared for this. Too dazed to do anything except tremble beneath him, your mind is still short-circuiting from everything, but Changbin’s hard cock lies flush against your thigh, grounding you back to reality. Precum is oozing out of his tip and you’re about to reach down to give him any semblance of pleasure, but he’s quick to pin your wrist to the side.
“Let me take care of everything,” he mumbles as his left arm reaches for the nightstand to fish out a condom from the drawer. You shiver at the warmth in his voice; he really is hellbent on making it up to you.
Changbin works in quick movements, ripping the condom packet open with his teeth and sliding it onto his leaking cock in one swift movement. Your heart is hammering against your ribcage when he lowers himself on you, and a mewl escapes you when he teases your folds with the tip, drags it up to your clit and then down to your entrance, smearing your precum around.
Luckily for you, Changbin doesn’t linger and slowly pushes into you. Every time he puts it in, he makes sure to be careful. It’s the same story every time, because you always have to get used to the stretch of his girth. Inch by inch, he draws out every thrust with a stifled groan, because you’re always so tight every time, and he keeps checking your face for any sign of discomfort.
“Tell me when to go on,” he grits once he’s halfway in, but you can tell it’s costing him a lot to stay level-headed. It’s hard to keep any sense of reason with the way your pussy holds him in a vice grip. You can share the sentiment with the way his cock is stretching you out in a way your hands can’t even begin to fathom.
He fills you up so well that you’re rendered speechless, so you resort to prodding his lower back with your heel, stirring him into motion. The thrusts start out gentle, but they soon gain in intensity and you drown in the pleasure and I got you’s he’s whispering in staggered breaths.
Soon enough, he’s diving into you with such strength that it has you seeing white. An arrangement of uncontrollable whines and heavy grunts fills your ears, and you feel your stomach coiling. The final nail in the coffin is when you meet his gaze, fully blown with adoration.
When you fall apart underneath him, it’s with your head on could nine, a stream of love confessions, and your hands intertwined with his.
The hallway that leads to the lab Changbin works at is as sterile-looking as the dentist’s.
You decided to pick up Changbin after another long day for him at the lab, because the past few days he always came home looking like the devil incarnate — most likely his supervisor — sucked the life energy out of him in the form of countless self-experiments because they are short on time and it is just not possible finding enough people for the needed sample size.
It’s probably against every safety procedure and general lab etiquette that the break room, where all students enjoy their cheap coffee amidst the tedious chaos in academia, is just a door away from the lab. Practical for all parties involved? Definitely. Legal? Debatable.
You’re about to knock when the door of the break room swings open, revealing a familiar face.
“Wooyoung?”
“Hey!” He beams back. “Surprised to see me?”
Surprised is an understatement. Having only seen him in all black and an abundance of piercings dangling from his ears, the current version of Wooyoung in a lab coat, glasses, and a missing lip ring makes him a completely different person.
You nod. “I didn’t know you also studied medicinal chemistry.”
“Almost. My major is in biochemistry.” Wooyoung flashes you a cheeky grin. “Binnie and I are working on the same research project.”
“The one where you’re recreating drugs?”
“Ah, that’s the one!”
“How’s that going?”
“Eh,” Wooyoung shrugs, “Not bad but not good either. Anyways, what brings you here?”
“I was looking for Changbin,” you reply.
“Oh, he was just out for an errand. He should be back in 10.” He gestures for you to step inside. “Coffee?”
Naturally, you take him up on the offer. While he boots up the coffee machine, you sit in one of the white IKEA plastic chairs. Wooyoung occupies the chair in front of you and sets two paper cups on the table, sliding the left one in your direction. The coffee tastes as good as you expected from cheap coffee in a break room that doesn’t even provide ergonomic chairs. You would ask for some sugar if it weren’t for the fact that Wooyoung already added two packs and a boatload of creamer into your cup.
“You know, it doesn’t surprise me that Binnie fell in love with you,” he begins mindlessly in between sips, “You’re totally his type.”
If this is how he normally starts his smalltalk, you wonder how many people grew repulsive of him the moment he opened his mouth. That doesn’t stop you from playing along though.
“And that entails?”
“Your personality. You need a backbone to tolerate Binnie’s antics,” he remarks. That’s the most generic response one could even think of. “Also, your sense of fashion. That’s the biggest giveaway. Binnie’s really into the cute aesthetic and skirts and shit.”
You give him a look. “Aha.”
He has to be trolling. Yet upon further pondering, you begrudgingly admit that he may have a point. In hindsight, Changbin did stare a beat too long whenever you wore your flowy skirts in combination with one of his hoodies.
You miss the way Wooyoung observes you closely as all gears in your head are churning overtime, trying to find as many instances as possible that corroborate his statement.
“By the way,” He grabs your attention once more as he fidgets in the pockets of his lab coat. “My roommate’s birthday is coming up soon and he’s the biggest sweet tooth there is, so I decided to make him some self-made candy. I need opinions.”
The Gudetama tin in his hand stares back at you. The last thing you expected Wooyoung to carry was a tin of an egg yolk with a face. If people thought Changbin was a walking contradiction, they clearly haven’t met Wooyoung yet. Oblivious to your puzzled expression, he adds proudly, “Cherry flavor, and I promise this shit will rock your world.”
“Don’t mind if I take one,” you mutter and pop one in your mouth. In your opinion, it’s not the best there is, but it isn’t inedible either. But with the way Wooyoung is waiting expectantly with large puppy eyes, you don’t have the heart to talk about its mediocrity and say, “They’re really good.”
Wooyoung leans back in his seat with a satisfied nod. The two of you fall into casual conversation—a mild debate about almond vs. soy milk—until Changbin announces himself loudly as he enters the break room.
“And this is my cue to leave. See you around,” Wooyoung winks at you and delivers a hard slap on Changbin’s shoulder as he brushes past him. In response, Changbin trips him, causing the other to stumble and throw a string of profanities at him.
Once Wooyoung disappears from your eyesight, Changbin embraces you in a bone-crushing hug and kisses the top of your head. “Have you been waiting long?”
“No. Besides, Wooyoung kept me company.” Your voice comes out muffled as your face is squished into his chest.
He holds you close for a moment longer, allowing you to wallow in his scent. The mixture of disinfectant, musk and cedar wood makes you light-headed—strangely intoxicated, even. You’re usually not sensitive to scents, but the smell creeps into all of your senses, materializing in a foggy vision and clammy skin. It’s so overwhelming that you struggle to breathe, and before you know it, all strength leaves your body and you slouch on Changbin. The motion catches him off guard, forcing him to steady himself with a palm on the table.
Something isn’t right. Luckily, Changbin catches it too.
“You don’t look well.”
“I don’t feel well either,” you croak.
“Shit. Let me clock out, then we’ll head straight home.”
It’s a chain reaction. All alarms go off in Changbin’s head as he guides you to the chair, then strips off his lab coat and frantically shoves all of his notes into his bag, as if it were a race against time before you burst.
Perhaps it is one. It sure feels like one.
It definitely is one.
The drive home usually takes 20 minutes tops. This time, it feels like 20 years.
Everything is a blur and a mix of colors by the time Changbin carries you up the stairs to your apartment. It’s sort of a déjà vu, with the way your legs turned into soggy noodles and you regressed to dead weight as he hauls you onto the bed. To ease the flush on your face and beads of sweat forming on your hairline, he makes a beeline for the kitchen and returns a moment later with a damp cloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
Everything is a blur and mix of colors, yet you see Changbin as clear as day.
While concern is bleeding into his expression, you couldn’t care less. Instead, you focus on the way he bites on his bottom lip, his jaw clenches, and how you’d do anything to run your fingers through his soft hair. Screw that leather jacket he’s wearing, concealing his beefy arms and tats—at this point, you’d prefer his compression shirts that are a pain to get off.
Then there’s his damn scent. It grows more tantalizing, consumes you the more seconds pass. Everything reeks of Changbin Changbin Changbin and all you can think about is how you crave his strong hands on your thighs and spreading them wide apart, his tongue lapping up all your juices like a predator toying with his prey, his kind yet firm gaze forcing you to grip the headboard and astral projecting you three dimensions over.
Unaware of the hunger building in your eyes, Changbin gently wipes the sweat away with the washcloth. “You’re burning up.”
So it comes off as a surprise when your hand latches onto his and you tug him onto you, causing his upper body to crash into you.
“What are you doing?” Changbin hisses, searching your eyes for answers. Before he gets to push himself up, you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in the crook of his neck.
“Need you, now.” It’s not a request, and he knows it.
Nonetheless, he tears away from you, shooting you an incredulous look. You try to reel him back, but he manages to get away from the bed and takes two steps back. He’s trying to figure out the logic in your behavior; you see the cogs working overtime in his brain, but he falls flat.
“Seriously. Did you eat something bad?”
“Just had coffee in the office with Wooyoung and some of the cherry candy—”
“Cherry?” And just like that, he pieces the puzzle together. The next thing you know, Changbin is pacing around the room with clenched fists, spitting out every curse under the sun.
When he turns back to your clueless face, he sighs. Whether it’s in anger or in defeat, you can’t tell. “Those were aphrodisiacs. Wooyoung made them a while back but he fucked up the formula and I thought we threw them all away, because our supervisor would have our heads if we accidentally gave them to our test people—and you had—fuck, I’m so going to fucking kill him.”
He proceeds to walk back and forth, grumbling and blaming himself for letting it happen, but he’s so far up his head that he ignores the elephant in the room. He doesn’t look when you clear your throat, doesn’t register that you sit up. You can only take so much of the blatant disrespect that when you raise your voice, it’s fueled by anger.
“Before you get to fucking kill him, get to fucking me first.”
The brashness in your tone gives him whiplash and causes him to stop dead in his tracks. Finally, he looks at you. He sees the slight tremor in your hands, your half-lidded eyes, and your chest heaving. Gone is the concern and anger, now replaced with confliction.
Changbin has standards, morals, but his resolve is growing weaker by the second when he sees you panting with want. The sight of you has his blood rushing south straight to his dick. He’s never witnessed you this agitated, this needy before. But even if it breaks him, he will not cross that line. “No. Absolutely not. You’re not in your right mind—”
“And I don’t care!” You yell. The damage has been done already, so what is he hesitating for? Neither is Changbin stupid enough to start a full-blown lecture on not taking things from strangers (even if the stranger is Wooyoung), nor does he have to do some soul searching to find the cure to your current predicament. “I’m horny, I’m burning up and you’re the only one who can help me. You’re the only one who can help me but you don’t want to help me because of your strange self-imposed righteousness to not act on your corruption kink!”
If he was still fighting his inner demons of taking you then and there, you took him out of it. In place, shock has settled on his features. “What?! That’s not what’s happening.” Changbin says, but it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself.
“Stop lying to me! Chaeryeong alluded to it during your tattoo appointment, something about how half of your friend group is into that. Wooyoung said something about your fascination with my skirts?! If that isn’t enough proof, I can also ask Hyunjin about it. I bet 20 bucks that he will say something along those lines—”
“Okay, sure, say I admit to that. That also proves that you want me to be that way!” He visibly cringes at the weak rebuttal. It isn’t even a rebuttal at all.
“I don’t want you to hold back,” you cry, scrambling for any words that might trigger a switch in him. “I want it rough, I want it mean, I want whatever it is that you want to do to me.”
Changbin’s demeanor changes. As if the winds have changed, his expression turns cold, and all of a sudden, he’s the calmest he’s been in this whole ordeal. You can’t tell if you’ve pushed it too far, or if this is another one of his meditation exercises, albeit unconventional in a situation like this. It doesn’t stop you from growing wet with excitement though.
“You want it rough?” His voice is low as he lets his jacket drop to the floor with a thud, revealing the plain black tank top that brings the best out of his arms.
You nod shakily. All at once, you realize that you may have triggered more than you bargained for.
“You want it mean? Fine, I’ll give you mean.”
Expecting a hand bunching up your hair or rough hands roaming your body, you brace yourself for what is to come. However, nothing happens.
Instead, Changbin drags the desk chair to the foot of the bed at a painstakingly slow rate, then makes himself comfortable. With his arms draped behind the back of the chair and legs spread out, showcasing the prominent bulge straining against his jeans, he’s watching your every move like a hawk.
“You say only I can help you? Show me how much you need me.”
Your mouth runs dry. Where should you even begin? Changbin doesn’t give you the luxury of any pointers; simply waits for your next moves. Despite the simple pretense, it’s a lot he’s requiring from you. He’s usually the one to initiate, to talk you through it. This is the moment where your inexperience shines through.
Once the silence gets too loud, you look at him with helpless eyes. “How do I do that?”
Changbin raises a brow. After a moment of deliberation, he says, “Strip. Use your creativity. You can start with that.” You gawk when he points at the pillow next to you. “You want to try out new things? Now’s the chance to do all that.”
Is he really implying what you think he is? Your face burns even more with the way he speaks so nonchalantly, as if he does this every other Thursday. At least he’s given you directions, you figure, so you ignore the humiliation running in your veins straight to your core, and slip off the clothes until you’re left in nothing but your underwear.
“Take off everything.”
It takes you a bit of hesitation to slip out the remaining pieces of clothes. Even though it isn’t the first time he’s seen you naked, you’ve never seen him outright eye-fuck you like this. Changbin merely cocks his head to the side, giving an appreciative hum as his eyes rake down your figure and burn every last detail into his memory. “C’mon baby, give me a show.”
You shakily reach for the object in question and place it between your shaky legs and you instantly hate. The silk is soft and it doesn’t put up any sort of resistance, deflating in an instant. But the petname makes you want more, makes you want to be good for him like you always have, so you suck it up and bunch it up as tightly as you can before you rub yourself against it. Despite the pressure being nonexistent, the contact of it on your clit has you jolting forward. It’s then and there when you realize how much the aphrodisiacs are heightening your senses.
You try to rock back, but the pillow falls flat. What you’re displaying doesn’t even deserve to be called a show, just a haphazard attempt to experience any semblance of friction against your folds; a clumsy sequence of you adjusting the pillow and gliding once, then rinse and repeat. Frustration and tears bubble up as any variation you make to fold it doesn’t hold. This is a new level of degradation Changbin is subjecting you to and all he does is sit and stare in silence, relishing your state.
Sooner than later, your thighs are on the brink of giving up and you cannot be bothered anymore; not with the lazy smirk on Changbin’s face, not with the entire assignment. You throw the pillow to the side and look at him in frustration. All you get in response is an expectant look.
He wants a show? Fine, a show he’ll get.
Changbin looks unimpressed when you clumsily move towards him and slide a leg between his to sit on one of his thighs, though the raging hard-on he’s sporting begs to differ. He opens his mouth, about to breathe out a remark but jerks when you claw your nails into his shoulders and start rutting his thigh like a cat in heat.
“The pillow was n-not enough, hngh—” you gasp as you use his thigh to get off. The fabric of his jeans is rough against your cunt, and you’re pretty sure he can throw this pair away with the amount of your slick you’re spreading on it, but you’re too busy chasing your high to care.
And because he wants a show and you want to be good, you throw your head back, allowing the unfiltered moans to leave your throat. The effect is immediate; Changbin sucks in a sharp breath of air and flexes his thigh, giving you more room to work with.
“Fucking hell,” he grits as his hands latch onto your hips and dictate a rough pace while you’re riding his thigh, “you’ll be the death of me.”
The grunts don’t stop and it all becomes such a blur that you are soon reaching sensory overload, stars covering your vision when Changbin plants his lips on your collarbone and nips on the skin.
“Let me see how much you need me,” he coos, followed by a string of words of encouragement.
The sensations rush to your head and you can’t tell left from right apart, the heat of it all coiling in your stomach. At a certain point, you no longer comprehend what he’s saying, just that he’s saying something. Your hips stutter relentlessly, crashing against the pattern that Changbin is giving. It’s reaching flow state in its most degenerate form, and you’re not really aware of it when you cum on him with a cry. His hands are brutal as he encourages you to ride out your high, drenching his jeans to the point past saving.
It’s still not enough.
Luckily, Changbin thinks the same and carries you back to the bed, letting your back fall against the mattress. He wastes no time stripping his own clothes and before you know it, his mouth is on yours.
“You’re doing so good. So good for me,” he groans in between kisses, his length lying heavy on your abdomen. The praises don’t stop coming in, even when he props himself on his forearm to reach for the drawer of the nightstand, but you stop him at the wrist.
“No condom.”
Changbin’s eyes widen and the corners of his mouth twitch. “You sure—”
“I swear to God, if you don’t put it in me right now, then I—” you choke, body spasming when Changbin bottoms out in one fluid motion without warning. The immediate stretch has you moaning in pain, and before you get to adjust to his sheer size, he starts moving with slow, controlled, deep thrusts.
“Changbin— f-fuck—” you weakly hit his shoulders in a lazy attempt to get him to back off, “I can’t—”
“Wrong, you can do it,” Changbin says it with such conviction that you believe him. He shudders, overstimulated by feeling you bare for the first time and almost topples over from the sheer force you’re sucking his cock in. “My baby’s so good for me, taking it all.”
You roll your eyes back, reveling in the compliments he showers you with in between grunts. Soon enough, the stings turn into pleasure and once Changbin senses that your hips are bucking up for more, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder and deepens the angle. The intensity of it all has you babbling nonsense and clutching the bedsheets.
“I’m close,” you sob, sensing your demise climbing up to you at record speed.
“Cum for me,” Changbin orders in between groans, then adds, “Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”
Your orgasm crashes onto you like a tidal wave. Changbin’s name leaves your mouth like a broken record and you’re pretty sure you’re drooling from how good he’s fucking you through your orgasm still, but you cannot be bothered to care. He’s close moments later and just when he’s about to pull out, you wrap your legs around him, locking him into place.
Panic flashes in his eyes, because he’s running out of time and cannot hold it in anymore but you beat him to it. “Want you to cum inside of me,” you beg deliriously, “If you’re going to ruin me, do it— h-haah— do it properly.”
The last comment makes him capitulate. Shivers ripple down his spine as he spurts white inside of you with a deep groan. His broad frame is trembling as your pussy milks him dry, cum hot and sticky as your fluids mix with a loud squelch. He’s still heaving when he pulls out of you and stares at the aftermath in awe; you spent under him, cum pooling out of you. If only he were well-versed in photography, because it’s the prettiest you have ever looked and it’d be a shame to keep this image only in his memory.
You wonder how Changbin still has the energy to get up when you’re as spent as a ragdoll. The fog in your vision gradually clears as you stare up at the ceiling, unable to do anything else.
“How are you feeling?” Changbin grabs the washcloth from before and begins to clean you up to the best of his abilities, keeping his touch light and gentle. It’s not enough to entirely clean the mess between your legs, but it should suffice for now, until he has regained the energy to carry you to the bathroom and wash you off properly.
“That was incredible,” you breathe, still basking in the afterglow.
Changbin drops the cloth aside to grab the glass of water and let you take small sips out of it. He finishes whatever is left before he joins you in bed, wrapping an arm around your frame and pulling you close.
“This will not be the last time, right?” you ask.
Changbin smiles and plays with a few strands of your hair.
“I’ll ruin you as much as you want.”
Wooyoung is grinning like a Cheshire cat, oblivious to the impending storm when Changbin enters the office.
“Binnie! How are you—”
“Jung Wooyoung, I’m going to kill you.”
The next thing Wooyoung knows, he’s in a headlock at the mercy of the other. This is one of the moments where Wooyoung wishes he never quit taekwondo. It is also one of the moments where Wooyoung finds it unfair that Changbin still knows the moves by muscle memory despite having quit martial arts in middle school. Damn that black belt.
“Before I die, pray tell, did I do any good to the cause?” Wooyoung wheezes, tapping incessantly at Changbin’s bicep to ask for air. It is all in vain though, as Changbin purposefully squeezes tighter. Where the fuck is their supervisor when Wooyoung needs her the most?!
“Give me some from your aphrodisiacs stash and you might live another day.”
UM HELLOOOOOOOO-!!!!?!!?!!!! i cant even express how much i enjoyed this and how perfectly it was written, tatted bin w his iconic, corrupt, delinquent friends just CHEFS KISS, i absolutely ADORED the dynamic between the pairing nd it was just everything i could ever ask for everyone say thank you lulu you magical wizard 🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️🙇♀️🙇♀️🙇♀️🙇♀️❤️❤️✨✨✨👼🏼👼🏼❤️🔥⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️
BABES YOU ARE INSANE the way i wheezed when i read your comment AND YOUR TAGS WDYMMM SMUT ROYALTY KLSDJLK 🫧 magical wizard lulu 🫧 (me) says thank you for the kind words GET THIS SMOOCH MWAHH <333
OMG HOLD ON LULU YOU'RE BACK ????? it's been like over half a decade that's so wild 😭 idk if you remember me but it's dia (my old urls were nakamotozone and something else idk it's been a hot minute lmao also i go by the alias sage now) !! it's kinda crazy how we're both making our returns to tumblr after so long 😭😭😭 glad to see you've been doing okay and i hope we can start talking again too bc it's been forever 🥹🖤✨
HOW COULD I EVER FORGET YOU BB YOU WERE ONE OF THE PPL I TALKED TO THE MOST OMGG 😭😭 i always got giddy whenever i saw nakamotozone pop up in my notifs BUT EITHER WAY THIS HAS TO BE FATE or further proof of my hypothesis that fandom content creators resurfacing is a recession indicator
the landscape on this hellsite has changed a lot so i probably won't be as active as i was back then but yes pls i'd love to reconnect AHHH SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED <33
pairing: boyfriend!changbin x female!reader
genre: nsfw! university au, established relationship, romance, drama, porn with plot/smut
word count: 13k
synopsis: while your boyfriend looks the part of the stereotypical bad boy in every teen romcom—yes, he even got the sleeve tattoo down and goes to bars in the shadiest neighborhoods—he’s actually a science geek who is too whipped for you and refuses to take you anywhere that could put you in danger. done with his babying, you decide to act more recklessly, leaving changbin to clean up your mess which includes astronomical hangovers and severe side effects from a science experiment gone wrong.
part of the forever after series
tags: mdni. medicinal chemistry major!changbin, anthropology major!reader, changbin has a comically low pain tolerance but that doesn't stop him from getting more tats, heavy alcohol consumption, changbin makes recreational drugs in the name of science, cameos of hyunjin, itzy’s chaeryeong and ateez’s wooyoung, jisung being subjected to mandatory community service is the start of a running gag and i will die on this hill
smut tags: dom!changbin (soft/pleasure/hard he can do it all!), aphrodisiacs and unknowingly ingesting them, fingering, pillow and thigh humping, multiple orgasms, protected sex, also unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, begging, praise, corruption kink, blue balling, aftercare
a/n: icb i revived this ancient remnant of a blog to spread the agenda of big buff bad boy binnie aesthetic + 3 smut scenes = ABSOLUTE CINEMA
There’s no other person in sight when you and Changbin step into the tattoo parlor. The place is dimly lit and the walls are decorated with tattered concert posters of bands you only recognize by name, as well as several framed pictures presumably displaying the tattooist’s work. The tattoos vary in all different sizes and colors, but the artist’s personal flair stays consistent throughout; bold strokes and intricate shading are prominent in every design you can think of.
For Changbin, this place is his scene. For you, this place screams shady all over.
It doesn’t help that the parlor is hidden in a small alleyway. As if trying to navigate through a labyrinth, you and Changbin had to take many turns through back streets that looked all the same before arriving at the run-down building. The only closure you have is that the artist is someone Changbin has known for the longest time, and since they were the one who did all of his previous tattoos, you can take your boyfriend’s words for granted.
“Are you alright?” Changbin asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.
You blink. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“You’re crushing my hand.”
Upon realizing that you are indeed, seemingly about to crush his hand, you instantly loosen your hold but keep your fingers intertwined. In an attempt to ease your nerves, Changbin continues, “We can leave if you want–”
“No!” you cut him off with a raised voice that pierces through the Whitesnake song playing from the speakers in a moderate volume, then add in a softer manner, “This is just new to me. Besides, I asked if I could come along. See it as a new experience for me.” Truth be told, you didn’t ask; you annoyed him until he reluctantly agreed to let you join him to his appointment.
Then again, you weren’t supposed to catch wind of it in the first place. Blame Jisung for being a loudmouth who can’t keep his mouth shut. What goes around comes around, and he sure is repenting by completing his mandatory community service.
Changbin’s about to reply when a sharp voice cuts in. “Yah! Seo Changbin!”
A young woman emerges from the employees only room. Her jet-black hair is tied into a high ponytail, and a lopsided grin is etched on her lips. She’s dressed in black, the sleeveless tee showcasing the abundance of tattoos on her left arm. Long, black branches are inked all over her shoulder and stop midway below her elbow. There are only a few pink petals sparsely decorating the branches, the rest cascading down her arm until the last specs of ink reach her wrist. Besides the delicate petals, other patterns are adorning her skin, strokes much bolder than the tree. You faintly make out the outlines of a billiard table and poker cards, the art style reminiscent of pop art comics. Despite the opposite art styles of the intricate tree and casino concept, the combination looks oddly harmonious.
“I’m older than you.” Changbin scowls, but the playfulness in his eyes still shines through.
“Since when do you care about formalities?” She snorts and they complete a complicated handshake before her gaze flits to you. “You brought company this time? That’s new.” Although there’s no judgment in her tone, you still feel like you’re being interrogated. The woman eyes you curiously, and after a while, she outstretches her hand. “I’m Chaeryeong. Interested in getting inked too?”
You notice her firm grip when you accept the handshake. You’re about to reply when Changbin beats you to it first. “She’s only company,” he says sharply, then detangles your fingers to wrap an arm around your hip, tugging you closer to him. Startled by his actions, you blink at him alertly, but he remains indifferent. Seems like Chaeryeong is also stunned, but then a beat passes, and the corners of her lips tug into a small but knowing smile.
“Glad to know that you listened to my advice and came here with emotional support in tow. You really need it,” she hums before turning to you. “You know, his pain tolerance is nonexistent. I almost fucked up all of his tats because he wouldn’t sit still and went on a crying rampage. For God knows how many hours straight, he was like ‘Wah, Chaeryeong, I’m gonna die!’” Her rendition of Changbin’s tantrum is comically exaggerated, yet it earns her a giggle from you and a punch in the shoulder from Changbin.
“C’mon, let’s get this over with,” he grumbles, ignoring Chaeryeong’s whines that he shouldn’t have hit her dominant arm. (“You do know that I’m going to be drawing on your arm with this hand, no?!”)
Fortunately for him, Chaeryeong doesn’t prolong it further and leads the two of you to a different, more sterile-looking room. As Changbin slips out of his leather jacket and makes himself comfortable on the tattoo chair, Chaeryeong points you to the stool beside him.
“So, Mr. No pain tolerance, how are you feeling?” you tease once Chaeryeong is out of earshot. Changbin’s ears sport red.
“Just so you know, Chaeryeong was blowing things out of proportion,” he insists, “I’m a big boy.”
With the jacket gone, his bare arms are on display and you’d be lying if you said they weren’t a sight to see. Changbin’s gym endeavors have fruited impressive results, and the half sleeve tattoo on his right arm complements the muscle he’s built up. Out of all the intricacies that stop at this elbow, the wolf is by far the most mesmerizing one he wears, with its sharp gaze, ragged fur and bloodshot eyes.
It wasn’t until you moved in together that you found out he had tattoos in the first place. You accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom, jaw slackening at the sight of him shirtless and his right arm on full display. Changbin mirrored your stunned expression, racking his brains for any reason to justify the tattoos, but every word that left him flew past your ears. All you could focus on was the black ink cascading down his upper arm, coming to life with every movement his muscles made.
Hence, the start of your Changbin’s arms hyperfixation.
Chaeryeong returns, this time with vinyl gloves covering her hands. “You better not be screaming like a bitch like last time.” She sends Changbin a pointed look before she takes a seat and begins with the prep work. Changbin instinctively locks his free hand into yours. You look at him bewildered at first, but at closer inspection, you notice how he’s slightly trembling even though all Chaeryeong did so far was apply rubbing alcohol to disinfect his lower arm, then use a disposable razor to shave off any fine hairs. Trying to make him relax, you squeeze his hand in reassurance. Fortunately it works, and he reciprocates the gesture.
“Brace yourself, the next step is where he usually cries,” Chaeryeong says offhandedly once she peels the stencil off. She was nice enough to elaborate on all the crucial steps she was taking before she could use the tattoo gun. Changbin stayed silent throughout the ordeal, gnawing on his bottom lip while she was explaining how the stencil transfer made her job much easier.
“Does it really hurt that much?” you quip.
“Fuck, yes.”
“Depending on your pain tolerance.”
They share an unreadable look for a moment, Chaeryeong being the one to break eye contact first. “Anyway, I need complete silence while I do the linework. And yes, that includes as little squirming as possible, Seo Changbin.”
“Always dropping the honorifics,” Changbin swears under his breath, earning a slight elbow jab from the other. “Ow! Is this how you treat a customer?!”
“This is the preferential treatment only you deserve. Mwah.” Chaeryeong sends him a crooked, half-assed smile. Stamping the conversation as done, she turns around to prepare the tattoo machine.
When Chaeryeong said Changbin had no pain tolerance at all, she wasn’t lying.
You don’t know much about tattoos and your very limited knowledge about the process of getting a tattoo is courtesy of Google. According to the Reddit forums you browsed through in the middle of the night, it should only hurt for the first minute or so before you get used to the sting. It varies from body part to body part, but generally, the forearm shouldn’t hurt so much.
Changbin’s still wheezing in pain ten minutes later.
Luckily he isn’t squirming erratically, but the pained cries that leave him aren’t any more pleasant. He winces as Chaeryeong works silently, lips pressed together in a firm line. Meanwhile, you feel like he’s about to break your bones with the iron grip his hand has engulfed yours in. But you manage to suppress a whimper.
The only reason Chaeryeong keeps up with him is because they’re childhood best friends, and if she could endure his bullshit from twenty years ago, she can endure it now. Besides, she lacklusterly admitted that she likes tattooing buff people. It’s easier to work with, or so she claims.
Most of the work is done once she finishes tracing the outline. By the time she takes a quick break to grab water for all of you, Changbin looks like he’s gone through an out-of-body experience.
“Is it over yet?” he asks dazedly.
“Only shading left.” Changbin groans at Chaeryeong’s reply, squeezing his eyes shut and probably questioning if this was truly worth the pain.
“You’re still alive. Don’t act as if I’m taking you to hell right now.” Chaeryeong rolls her eyes in unbothered annoyance. Changbin doesn’t lash back, only grabs the cup and downs it in one go.
“Heads up, the worst part is over already,” you say softly in an attempt to perform damage control. While your boyfriend doesn’t reply and gives you a weak smile that reaches his eyes, Chaeryeong hums approvingly.
“You’re right. The worst is over. Usually he’s all numb from the outlining, so shading should be a breeze. Also, he’s more bearable and can actually hold a proper conversation now.”
She’s right. Changbin is certainly more receptive to talking and much saner than before. It’s almost as if his lapse never happened. Though occasionally he inhales sharply as Chaeryeong works the ink into his skin.
“How’s uni going?” she asks to distract him further from the pain.
“The usual. Though lately I’m cooped up in the lab for this project and it’s killing me,” Changbin sighs, enjoying the way you run a thumb over his knuckles.
“Oh, really? Tell me more about it.”
“We’re recreating drugs.” Chaeryeong does a double-take. Her eyes meet yours and you know that you’re looking just as mortified. Now, this is the first time you’re hearing that. However, Changbin doesn’t seem to notice the gravity of his words and continues casually, “We’re trying to find a way to make use of the euphoric effects drugs provide but take out the risk of addiction.”
“You’re recreating drugs,” Chaeryeong repeats blankly. She blinks a few times before she resumes her work. “Does that mean you can make ecstasy?”
“Are you hearing yourself?” Changbin scoffs, as if that was a stupid question to begin with. “Of course I can.”
“Sweet. Can you hook me up with it?”
“No.”
“Jeez, I was just joking,” she deadpans but quickly drops the subject. She catches a glimpse of you before speaking again. “How long have you two been dating?”
“Uh.” The question came unexpectedly and you’re not even sure if Chaeryeong is asking you, but given that nobody has interjected yet, you clear your throat. "It’s about to be six months.”
“And we live together,” Changbin adds a tad too proudly for your taste.
Chaeryeong does another double-take. Not only is she at a loss for words, but she’s definitely thinking how sketchy that is, going by her furrowed brows. “You haven’t even been dating for half a year and already live together?” As quickly as the outburst came, it disappeared in a matter of seconds and she continues her work, voice much calmer this time. “Looks like Changbin’s really whipped, then.”
“Yeah, I am.” Your heart skips a beat when you hear the fondness in his voice. But then you see that he’s looking straight at you with the same fondness, a fondness that only someone madly in love could wear on his face, and your heart stops dead in its tracks.
Admittedly, you can understand why a few question marks popped up when people found out you shared an apartment. Only fools would move in together after dating for mere three months. But what can you say? Like every college student who was financially independent from their families, you saved money wherever you could. You were both in need of a roommate, you both trusted each other, and with your biggest fight being a debate about prioritizing the purchase of a rice cooker vs. an air fryer, you didn’t have any worries.
Besides, at least you can now make out without the fear that someone could walk in.
“God, you’re so tacky. You should introduce your girlfriend to the rest of us soon—no, you should’ve introduced her to us much earlier!” Chaeryeong sulks until all of a sudden, she looks up to you with sparkles in her eyes. “Hey, we’re meeting at the Topline next week and you should definitely join us!”
Before you get to ask what on earth the Topline is, Changbin dismisses the prospect sternly. “That’s out of question.”
“Why not? I’m hurt,” Chaeryeong fires back with her eyes glued to his skin, tattoo gun buzzing in her grip.
“And let half of you impose your corruption kink on her? I think the fuck not.”
Corruption kink? Is that really what Changbin thought of you? You may not be the most experienced there is out there (God forbid the first time you gave Changbin a blowjob; it definitely was… your technique had room for improvement. Lots, even. But hey, you improved and that’s all that matters!) but it’s not like you didn’t read the nastiest guilty pleasure fanfics on the internet when you were a teenager.
“Most of us have the decency not to try something with someone taken.” Chaeryeong’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts.
“There you go. Most of you.”
Upon that comeback, Chaeryeong doesn’t have anything to deflect with. In the end, she settles with “As if you’re not one of them too, monogamist.” Changbin shoots her a warning glare.
The topic dies down soon after and Chaeryeong stops talking at some point, too immersed in completing the tattoo. Changbin reminisces a bit about his joint past with her, back when they were still toddlers and Chaeryeong shit her pants in the backyard, but she soon lashes back with a set of embarrassing endeavors Changbin went through in his teen years. You fight the urge to laugh then and there, and promise Changbin to take his moments of shame to the grave, yet silently thank Chaeryeong for providing these stories.
Hours pass and eventually, Chaeryeong does the finishing touches to the new sleeve extension. Positioned right underneath the head of the wolf, it’s a pine forest that takes up the entire space of his lower arm.
“I don’t expect any other customers today, so take your time,” Chaeryeong says after bandaging him up and leaves the room first to clean her equipment.
Changbin rolls his shoulder back to get rid of the numbness in his right arm before he carefully slips into his jacket. You’re contemplating bringing up the topic of meeting his friends again because that thought hasn’t left your mind and Changbin’s reaction didn’t sit right with you. You’re thinking of dropping it altogether since he must have his reasons and you don’t want to foul his mood, but then—
Oh, fuck it. You don’t have anything to lose.
“So, about the Topline—”
“No.” His answer is firm and before you can counter, he sighs deeply and meets your bummed expression. “It’s not that I don’t want you to meet the rest of my friends I grew up with, but it’s better if you don’t.”
Your brows scrunch in irritation. “Why? As long as you’re there it shouldn’t be a problem, no? Unless there’s some dubious backdoor business they’re partaking in?”
“Dubious backdoor business—God, no, it’s nothing like that,” Changbin grabs you by the shoulders and stops in his sentence after a moment of hesitation. “It's just… let’s say there are a lot of physical confrontations at that particular bar.”
“Chaeryeong made it sound like you still frequent that place quite often,” you mumble. You don’t process what you said until seconds later, and when you see the perplexity on Changbin’s features, you realize you stepped on a landmine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that—”
“It’s alright. I get it. Sometimes I ask myself why I still go there too.” He says it like someone who’s accepted the fact that their cigarette addiction is going to last for the rest of their life. “Remember when I told you I used to be a troublemaker who did some questionable things? We didn’t do illegal stuff or anything that’s super messed up, just questionable. I might’ve grown from that phase, but some of them didn’t. You’re better off not knowing some of them, really.” He means the last part, almost as if he wished he never met them himself.
Before the mood can get any more depressing, he leans forward to press a chaste kiss on your lips. “The only person worth meeting is Chaeryeong, to be honest. She’s the one who stuck along since day one.”
“Well, she did tell interesting stories about your past. The cherry pie incident was amusing to hear,” you muse, earning a warning glare from him.
“We don’t talk about the cherry pie incident. You promised you'd take that story to the grave,” he reminds you stoically, but the facade drops in an instant when you peck his lips. Gone is the unreadable expression as you reduce him into a flustered mess.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” you swear, giving him a wink before leaving the room.
Chaeryeong looks up from her phone when you finally step foot into the… lobby? Main room? Room filled with band posters and blasting Green Day from the speakers? That room.
The payment goes smoothly. Changbin pulls out several banknotes from his jacket and you gawk at the amount he’s brought. No sane person would carry that amount in cash, but perhaps it’s an unspoken tattoo culture thing. The two banter a bit and Changbin eventually decides to go to the toilet, leaving you with Chaeryeong.
“It was nice meeting you,” she says, the corners of her lips quirking upwards.
“Huh?” You have to stop being so caught off guard by the casual sentences. “I mean, likewise.”
If Chaeryeong finds your initial reactions off-putting, she doesn’t let it show. After a moment of deliberation, she pulls out a small business card and starts scribbling something on the back of it. Once she’s done, she walks around the counter until she’s standing right in front of you. You flinch when she grabs your hand without warning and drops the business card in your palm.
“In case you ever feel like stopping by at the Topline. The directions on the internet are a little confusing.” Chaeryeong sounds like an angel, but the mischievous glint in her eyes tells otherwise. You stare at her wide-eyed, slowly peeking down to give the card a slower inspection. You recognize the main street and surprisingly enough, the bar isn’t too far away from it and not hidden in a maze like the tattoo parlor. “Our little secret, yeah?”
You return the smile. “Our little secret.”
“Quit hogging my girlfriend.”
You quickly hide the card by pulling down your sleeve. Luckily, Changbin doesn’t seem like he heard a word of your conversation. After saying your goodbyes, he additionally flicks Chaeryeong’s forehead because ‘it’s what she gets for dropping honorifics’. Chaeryeong jabs him playfully in the chest as payback.
“You got yourself a good one, Seo Changbin,” she says after engulfing you in a hug. Changbin only rolls his eyes but the slight blush that dusts his ears doesn’t go unnoticed. “Stop by again soon!”
The weeks pass by uneventfully.
Once Changbin’s skin stopped peeling off three weeks in, he almost threw a party for being able to wear his long-sleeved compression shirts again, leaving little to the imagination.
Then again, he resorted to fitted tank tops instead or ditched a shirt completely whenever he was at home, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Your brain ran haywire every time Changbin stretched and reached for something, zeroing in on the ink moving with his muscles. You also found yourself imagining him with tattoos covering his other arm, first wondering which designs would suit him (perhaps a little more color besides red?), but it quickly morphed into a daydream of how delectable his arms would look in sleeveless shirts, both covered in ink. Once that image solidified in the forefront of your mind every time he entered your peripheral vision, along with thoughts so degenerate you didn’t know your mind could conjure, you knew you needed an orgasm for a brain reset.
An alternative would be to ask him to just get a second tattoo sleeve done, or even gift him a surprise appointment because he did tell you in the past that he plans on getting his left arm done eventually, but that reeks a bit too much of self-gratification.
Unfortunately, as a byproduct of being paranoid about infecting the new tattoo, the best Changbin could offer you was a peck on the lips when all you wanted was for him to throw you on the bed. You forced yourself to touch some grass every day to keep your sanity intact and not reach into the depths of your mental spank bank, pull out the vibrator and cum then and there. As much as you were lusting after Changbin, you were not giving him the satisfaction of your sexless-induced meltdown because he wouldn’t pound you into the mattress. You briefly debated whether you should just get yourself off while he wasn’t at home, but you’re a terrible liar and he reads your face like an open book.
Suffice to say, it devastated you that the weeks passed by so uneventfully.
The more rewarding it is once he frees you from his self-imposed sex ban and is sitting on the couch with you grinding on his lap, both of you still fully clothed. His hands latch onto your hips and set a moderate pace as your lips crash onto his. The neediness takes him by surprise, but he’s quick to match the energy and slips his tongue into your mouth, enticing a whine out of you. It’s downright pathetic how fast he’s reduced you into a whimpering mess, begging for more, and you hope he doesn’t realize you’re more sensitive than usual.
“Someone’s impatient,” he pants into your mouth, struggling to hide the smile and the groans forming at the back of his throat. Another uncoordinated lip lock, then he pulls away to bunch your skirt up and grant himself access to your damp underwear. He wastes no time pushing your panties to the side and runs a finger over your slick folds.
“A-aaa-ah, fuck– and who’s to blame for that?” you choke out, digging crescents into his buff upper arms. Changbin isn’t even applying a lot of pressure and you’re already at the brink of seeing stars. You’re too far gone to be surprised, too drunk on his touch to notice the growing bulge under his pants.
“Talking back? That’s new.” Changbin raises a brow at you, followed by an appreciative hum. “I like that.”
With one arm wrapped around your waist for stabilisation, he spreads your folds apart with his other hand to ghost a finger above your clit. You lurch forward at the motion, body trembling from the slightest microactions.
“Changbin, m-more— hnhg,” you plead, aching to thrust your hips into his touch. But he’s holding you steady by the waist, rendering every movement useless.
It hasn’t been that long since you discovered that Changbin loves it when you ask for him more, demand more. Although you are still struggling to get past the indignity of verbalizing anything further specific than ‘more’, he doesn’t mind.
It’s okay, he said. Baby steps, he said.
He doesn’t keep you waiting for so long and as you wish, flicks your clit in a steady rhythm. Smugness settles on his features as he relishes the broken sounds coming out of your mouth. “That’s it. Attagirl.”
The remark is all it takes to send you six feet under. Coincidentally, it hasn’t been that long since you discovered that you love it when he talks you through it. Ever since Changbin clocked that, alongside the way you clench around him every time he praises how good you are to him, how perfectly your tight pussy is taking him to the hilt, he’s been abusing your weakness like a cheat code.
But he isn’t unfair. He’s a giver through and through—a generous one, so.
“Want more, huh? Fuck– I’ll give you more. Everything my baby wants." The words drip from his mouth like honey, a proud smile painted on his lips as you unravel under his touch. The pretty sounds from your lips, the way your fingers grip his arms for dear life, he drinks it all in and it still isn’t enough.
Everything you want is everything you get, so he slips a finger inside of you while his thumb flicks over your clit with more pressure than before. It’s everything you want and yet, it’s too much at once that you’re writhing under his control, incapable of forming any coherent thought.
Meanwhile, Changbin settles on assaulting your neck in kisses and nibbles, adding a second finger while keeping the pace of his hand constant. “Fuck, baby, you’re so, so good to me.”
The arm around your waist has loosened and by the time you realize it, you’re already riding his hand like a maniac. Your moans reverberate across the living room, so loud and unfiltered that an innocent bystander would think you were a freak virgin if the walls weren’t soundproof.
You’re so close to chasing your high, close to tasting it, when all of a sudden the default iPhone ringtone blares from Changbin’s phone. The ear-deafening sound rips you a new one, and Changbin is just as delirious, hand coming to a freeze.
The ringtone stops. A beat passes. And then his phone rings again.
Irritation makes its way onto Changbin’s face, and before he can throw the phone across the room, the ringtone stops again.
“I cannot be bothered with this shit,” he mutters before leaning in for a kiss, ignoring the obnoxious ring to the best of his ability.
The phone rings a third time. This time, the standard ringtone is replaced by a Tiger JK song. Changbin tenses.
“Fuck, supervisor’s calling,” he curses under bated breath and tears away for good this time, “I’m sorry, I really have to take this.”
Before you can complain, he pulls his fingers out of you, lifts you off his lap and gently sets you on the couch. In a matter of seconds, he’s scrambling for his phone on the coffee table and rushes into your bedroom to take the call, leaving you utterly confused with a throbbing core and the fading reality of an orgasm.
You blink.
What the fuck just happened?
You still haven’t recovered when he reappears in the living room, fixing his hard-on in his pants to be less noticeable. A wave of frustration and regret flushes on his face as he slips on his leather jacket.
“You’re leaving me. Just like this? That’s it?” The crack in your voice is all it takes for Changbin’s face to fall. It is cruel after all; weeks of the slightest of touches and the most innocent of kisses, waiting patiently for most of his tattoo to heal—all that for a build-up of a much-needed and very overdue orgasm that vanishes through a single phone call from his supervisor.
“Emergency at the lab.” Words cannot describe how thick his guilty conscience is weighing on him. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”
“Tonight?”
“I’ll be coming home late.” Upon hearing those words, your expression sours. The justification that follows isn’t any better: “I bailed on my friends too many times and Chaeryeong will have my head if I don’t show up today.”
“At the Topline?” you ask.
Changbin nods. “I’ll be back before you realize it, promise.”
And just like that, he leaves you alone in your apartment.
Now, you know where Changbin’s loyalties lie. Hell, you’re not one to make him decide between you and his friends. He always prioritizes you over everyone else, as proven in the case of Felix and Yeonjun.
However, he’s never left you with figurative blue balls before. And to expect you to suck it up after the past weeks?
The audacity.
Out of courtesy and respecting his wishes, you refrained from contacting Chaeryeong even though the Topline has been gnawing at the back of your head ever since you met her. The business card is still hidden in the pocket of your coat, with her number and directions to the bar.
Changbin played himself out of that courtesy with his stunt.
The text you send to Chaeryeong is a mere one-liner. ‘Hey, it’s me! I heard you’re meeting at the Topline today, would love to join!’. Ten minutes later, your phone rings with her contact lighting up the screen.
“I was wondering if you would ever reach out,” Chaeryeong muses once you pick up. “So, what did he do this time?”
The direct question startles you. How often does Changbin get into trouble for her to break the ice with this?
You don’t bother questioning the rationale and reply, “I want to get back at him.”
“Damn, he must’ve fucked up. Hell has no fury like a woman scorned.” A laugh escapes from the other line. “Alright then. Meet me at the subway station at 9. Come as your best. See you then!”
Come as your best, said Chaeryeong. Who are you to question her?
For someone who is not well-versed in the art of a sultry smokey eye, pride fills your chest when you add the finishing touches to your makeup. It took you approximately an hour to complete this makeup look, and prior to that, a run to the next department store followed by a loss of ten bucks on your bank account for purchasing a drugstore eyeshadow palette that you will solely use for this occasion.
The little black dress clinging to your skin is barely long enough to forego the safety shorts, but it hugs your figure in all the right places. You take a mental note to wear this dress more often, even if it requires you to go out at night more often. Then again, this is the only appropriate going-out dress you have in your wardrobe. Thank God you didn’t throw it away during your last closet cleanout. Otherwise you would’ve been stuck with the choices: 1) flowy skirts and basic tees, 2) gray joggers you’ve owned for five years counting along with the ugly pink furry sweater—it’s so ugly it’s cute—or 3) paying too much money for a cheaply produced polyester dress that you will only wear once.
And because you are only doing this to subject Changbin to a night of pain and suffering and another round of blue balls, you slip on his favorite leather jacket before hurrying to the subway station. Some would call it pettiness; you prefer karmic retribution.
“You aren’t here to play,” Chaeryeong whistles as she eyes you from head to toe, visibly pleased with what she’s seeing. “Tonight will be fun, especially since there will finally be another woman at the table!”
Wasting no time, you head over to the Topline. Reminiscent of Chaeryeong’s tattoo parlor, the moderately packed bar is designed in rocker fashion with dark wooden furniture, band posters and political stickers sticking haphazardly on the wall. It reeks of smoke and musk and if it weren’t for Chaeryeong by your side, you would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb.
As Chaeryeong guides you to the round booth tucked in the far left corner of the room, the guy already sitting there looks up from his phone and spots you immediately. A wolfish grin flashes on his lips as his eyes linger a beat on your jacket, immediately clocking the context.
“I’m Wooyoung,” he grins at you after hugging Chaeryeong. “Binnie’s been hiding your identity for so long. Now I can place a face and a name to the lucky lady.”
The silver ring dangling on his bottom lip glistens in the lighting, and you see the faint outlines of a tattoo peaking out of his high collar. Perhaps Changbin had a point with his reluctance to introduce you to this set of friends. It’s not like he’s keeping you a secret—you crashed plenty of his and Felix’s Genshin sessions, and proofread Yeonjun’s assignments too many times for Changbin’s comfort. But their personalities and first impressions weren't as brash as Wooyoung’s and certainly didn’t make you feel like prey served on a silver platter.
Blame it on the tattoos and lip ring. Although by that logic, Changbin should also count as someone you should be wary of.
“You came in time.” Wooyoung tears you out of your inner monologue. “Jinnie’s ordering the first round for us and– ah, speak of the devil.”
Your jaw nearly drops when your line of sight focuses in on the newcomer, the strands of jet black hair and abundance of jewelry on his neck all too familiar.
“Hyunjin?” you gawk.
Hyunjin mirrors your expression, blindly setting the tray of Baby Guinnesses on the table. “Wait, you’re Changbin’s girlfriend?"
“You two know each other?” Chaeryeong’s eyes flit between the two of you, grabbing one shot glass as she slides into the booth. “Same major or something?”
“We work at the museum together,” you answer.
“Similar majors,” Hyunjin adds, “She does anthropology, I do fine arts.”
“It isn’t similar–”
“It’s similar enough for these dumbasses.”
“What a small world we live in,” Wooyoung interrupts your banter and slips a shot glass into each of your palms. “We can reminisce later. But first, bottoms up!”
To your surprise, you down the shot with ease, the taste of sweet coffee liquor lingering on your tongue. Hyunjin was smart enough to order two glasses for everyone and before you know it, you’re holding the second shot to your lips and finishing it in one go.
From then on, everything’s a blur.
Time passes in the blink of an eye. One moment, Hyunjin is bombarding you with questions on how you met Changbin and how the fuck he never made the connection since he sees you twice a week and has to mute Changbin’s number whenever he overthinks what to cook for you. In the next, an abundance of shot glasses and soju bottles appear on the table out of thin air. At a certain point, Chaeryeong leaves your group and directs her attention to the hot bartender mixing up tequila sunrises, while Wooyoung is trying to convince you in slurred syllables to also get tatted up or at the very least, commit to a lip ring too. This sends Hyunjin into a spiral of complaining in solidarity with Jisung’s absence, and he brings up the conspiracy theory that Jisung unjustifiably ended up doing mandatory community service because the cops mistook him for someone else who also happened to have a lip ring. Place your bets on whose fault it is that Jisung got a lip ring?
Sandwiched between the two as they bicker, you only laugh at the absurdity of it all and reach forward to pour yourself a new soju shot. Wooyoung takes this opportunity for mischief and snatches the bottle away from you, gulping the remaining liquor in as few sips as possible. It takes all clogs in your brain a hot minute to understand what he’s aiming for and a cut later, you’re balancing your half weight on him to steal the bottle back.
“The fuck is going on here?”
Your vision is also too blurry to make out the details of his face, but the familiar voice rings in your ear, causing you to jump off Wooyoung and grin sheepishly.
“The man of the hour is here!” Wooyoung ignores the comment happily and then adds in a sharp tone. “You’re late!”
Changbin’s eyes are set ablaze as he stares you down in silence, processing the entire predicament. You’re too far gone to notice the harshness in his gaze or the way he swallows once he realizes that you’re wearing his jacket, only giggling as an aftereffect of the alcohol flowing through your veins.
Changbin opens his mouth and shuts it quickly, deliberating where he should start. In the end, he settles with, “Some fucking sleazeball—,” if looks could kill, Wooyoung would’ve been dead yesterday, “—ignored the lab calls so I had to step in and take care of it.”
“As you always do! I can always count on you!”
“Fuck off, Wooyoung,” Changbin sighs and then turns to you, “More importantly, what are you doing here?”
“What do you think?” you snicker, more than tipsy.
Changbin narrows his eyes. “How much did you drink?”
“Not a lot.”
“And now the truth,” he deadpans, unimpressed by the exasperated theatrics you give him.
“I wasn’t lying!”
By then, Hyunjin made some space for Changbin to slide next to you. He tilts your chin up, closing the gap between your lips. You’re leaning in closer, giddily awaiting the kiss when he pulls back and mutters, “Yeah, your breath says something else.”
“Seo Changbin, you don’t tell a woman her breath stinks!”
“Shut up Chaeryeong.” Changbin rolls his eyes, earning him a scoff from Chaeryeong, who just returned from the bar with more concoctions she probably sweet-talked the poor bartender for free, with empty promises of a hookup after his shift. Changbin grabs your wrist and tugs you out of the booth with him. “We’re leaving.”
“But you just arrived!” you complain.
“We’re leaving.” The finality in his tone leaves no room for bargaining. He doesn’t even give the rest of his friends an ounce of his attention or the opportunity to say goodbye, even though he swore to go crazy with them tonight.
All sequences happen in rapid succession, from leaving the stuffy bar to the cold wind on the streets, from All Time Low blasting in your ears to the faint sounds of traffic on the main road. Changbin maintains a fast tempo, his grip a vice on your wrist. Coordination was never a skill of yours even while sober; therefore, it comes to the point where he’s dragging your drunken figure through the alleyways as if you were a ragdoll. Everything happens so fast that your legs struggle to keep up with his footsteps and your head is moments away from spinning with vertigo.
“Changbin, too fast,” you pant, not able to tell whether he caught your plea or not. Alcohol has never been your strong suit, and the consequences of not figuring out your limit when you were still in high school bite back in this moment. Something is bubbling up in the back of your throat, constricting your ability to speak. You try another attempt at catching Changbin’s attention with a measly pat on his arm, and when that doesn’t work, you force the words past your lips. “I think I need to–”
Before you can register anything else, you’re hurling over a trash can and your legs give up.
The next time you’re conscious, it’s in the safe haven of your bed, accompanied by a raging hangover.
“Easy there.” Changbin is sitting on a chair next to you, eyes lifted from his phone.
“My head hurts,” you groan as you push yourself up on your forearms, annoyed by the sunlight glaring into your face. All you remember is the absurd amount of liquor you basically inhaled in a span of a few hours. Perhaps also bantering with Chaeryeong, Hyunjin and Wooyoung. Maybe even how you left the Topline with Changbin and maybe, just maybe, how he was holding your hair up as you were puking your guts out into a public trash can.
Oh, how becoming one with the bed would make last night’s events disappear in an instant.
“I’d be surprised if your head didn’t hurt after you blacked out.” Changbin grabs the cup of water by the nightstand and holds it up to your lips. “Drink.”
His lips are pressed into a fine line as you obey him diligently, only pushing away his arm once the cup is empty. Silence envelopes the room as he keeps a close eye on you adjusting to the daylight. Once he deems you conscious enough, he picks up the plate of scrambled eggs, sausages and toast and places it on your lap.
“Now eat.”
Glad that he’s not spoon-feeding your breakfast to you, you ask groggily. “What time is it?”
“Midday.”
Lunch it is, then.
It’s a rare occasion that Changbin only watches you without any comment. Usually he’s one to spill everything going on in his mind, be it about the research project that he only begrudgingly agreed to for the prospect of skipping mandatory exams, or date ideas, because unlike public perception, he is the resident romantic between the two of you. Which is why his silence concerns you even more, because the only times Changbin is very careful about choosing the right words is when it’s very serious.
“About last night.” You shut your eyes in defeat once those words leave his mouth, knowing what’s coming next. “I’m not even going to question how everyone there already knew that you were coming along. I told you not to go there. What were you thinking?”
“Does it matter?”
He sends you a look of disbelief, as if you were dropped multiple times as a baby. “Yes, it does! It’s your safety we’re talking about!”
This is ridiculous. You literally just woke up, trying to pull through the aftermath of the drinking fest and Changbin thinks this is the best time to reprimand you for your lapse of judgment?
The toast in your mouth begins to taste vile. “Are you saying I cannot take care of myself?”
The bitter undertone in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed. Changbin runs a hand through his messy hair. Realizing that the conversation is slowly turning south and so not what he was hoping to achieve, he tries a different angle along with a softer voice. “My friends are a lot—”
“Chaeryeong is nice.”
“She’s the exception. Hyunjin for example—”
“He’s my colleague. We work together. Which, by the way, you probably knew of yet you didn’t bother telling us.” You arch a brow.
Changbin’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Okay, it’s just Wooyoung. He’s the textbook definition of trouble.”
“I thought that was Jisung?”
“The point is,” he stresses and takes a deep breath before resuming with, “You got blackout drunk. God knows what would’ve happened if I weren’t there.”
“But you were there.”
The rational part of you knows better than to egg him on. This is already a sensitive issue for him, this overprotective side of him—or so he likes to call it. In your eyes, it is something more akin to guilt or obsession or a culmination of both. But neither has there been the right timing to bridge that conversation, nor is it in your best interest to start the war now.
The damage has already been done though, judging by the way Changbin clenches his jaw.
“I think I should go to the lab now.” He presses a chaste kiss on your forehead that comes off more as a gesture of obligation before standing up from your side. “Get enough rest. If you need more meds, I put them on the kitchen counter.”
Before you can regret your attitude, he is already out the door.
Contrary to popular belief, Changbin’s love languages are acts of service and gift giving. You know better than what most people would assume. Therefore, it doesn’t surprise you when he arrives home at dinner time with a takeaway bag from your favorite restaurant in his hand.
That being said, Changbin also has his way with words. There’s a reason why he first considered a music career before settling for the more realistic prospects of a STEM degree. (Technically speaking, he applied for the forensics program, just so that he could blow up cars in the lab and call it his job, but wasn’t accepted. Medicinal chemistry followed as a backup plan after an eye-opening conversation with one of his seniors who raved about the pay of big pharma.)
You cut to the chase as he puts the paper bag on the kitchen counter. “Sorry about last night. In retrospect, that was really stupid of me to do so.”
“Sorry about this morning,” Changbin responds, a soft smile etched on his lips. “I didn’t mean to lecture you like that.”
He’s halfway through unpacking the contents of his takeaway order when you engulf him in a hug, face buried in the crook of his neck. Almost instinctively, he wraps his strong arms around your waist and the two of you linger in silence, the soft, brimming sound of the fridge filling the void.
“Already forgiven But…” you trail off, choosing your next words carefully, “did something happen that made you so… overprotective?”
The question startles him. He blinks and for a brief pause, you second-guess whether now is a good time to bring up the question burning in the back of your skull. Perhaps it’s a little too early to stir up that hornet’s nest.
“I guess,” Changbin starts and you release the tension in your shoulders that you’ve unconsciously built up, “since we sometimes have vastly different circles, I didn’t want to scare you off. I know you sometimes find my preferences quite intimidating.”
You squint. “You think you scare me off? Even though I was the one who suggested moving in together?”
At the mention of that, Changbin chortles. “You have a point. I know it’s stupid, I’m probably projecting— hmpf—”
Sometimes, for his own good, he talks too much. Cut off by your kiss, it takes him a second before he reciprocates earnestly. Changbin’s kisses are slow and controlled, filled with love that takes up all the space in your lungs. All insecurities and previous arguments are long forgotten as you try to coax more out of him.
As they say, forgive, never forget. And while Changbin makes you relent in many things, not even his lips can make you forget how he left you drowning in frustration.
The kisses grow in intensity, deeper and more forceful. You lightly tug on his bottom lip, drawing a breathy moan out of him. Anything for him to finally get it. Addicted to the constrained sounds he is making, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug on the tufts of hair at his nape. The unexpected force takes him by surprise and you can only imagine his dick twitching in anticipation.
Changbin recognizes your ulterior motives too late. He groans into your mouth once you force a thigh between his legs, pressing hard on his bulge. Though it cost him his entire willpower—you know, because he is a weak man when it comes to you—he breaks off the kiss and places his forehead on yours, breath shaky and hands trembling.
“Food’s getting cold,” he says weakly. It’s a final warning; if you don’t take the bait, he’s going to devour you.
“Food can wait. You still owe me from blue balling me yesterday.”
Changbin doesn’t need to be told twice.
His hands are cupping your face and his lips never detach from yours as he blindly guides you to your bedroom. He doesn’t let go of you until the back of your knees hit the bedframe, then wastes no time stripping you out of your clothes. You’re about to complain why he’s taking his sweet time, but then he pushes you on the bed and hovers above you.
“Yesterday really did a number on you,” he says, discarding his own clothes with a subtle smirk on his face, and your eyes can’t help but center on his tattoo-covered right arm and the flex of his bicep. It costs you everything not to tackle his arm and leave marks on it.
“A-ah– all your fault—” is all you can manage as he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your collarbone and lets his hands freely roam your body. Not a single crevice of your body stays unexplored. His breath lies heavy on your skin, unrelenting as he sucks on your most sensitive spots. All you can do is lie there and take it, hands gripping the sheets as marks you all over. You shiver when the pads of his fingers graze over your nipples, and arch your back with a contained moan when he flicks both of them.
“It’s all my fault you’re like this. I’m sorry.” Even though his ministrations tell a different story, he really means it, given the tone in his voice. “I’ll take care of you.”
True to his word, he knows how to take care of you.
“Shame on me for not giving my pretty girl what she deserves,” he sighs and you jolt when he snakes a hand down to your bare cunt. “Look how wet you already are, and all I did was kiss you.”
Changbin has his way with words, and your reactions to them don’t escape his attention. Deep down, you’re certain he has a mean streak and finds pleasure in the way you writhe underneath when he showers you in care, taking the heavy work off you. Even if he’s looking at you with stars in his eyes, there’s an underlying edge to his gaze that you haven’t quite grasped yet.
He wastes no time slipping two fingers into you, slowly pumping them in and out. Your stomach swoops, bucking your hips to chase the feeling. A cry leaves you when his thumb simultaneously flicks your clit, and you actually feel like crying when he doesn’t pick up the pace. It’s so slow, too slow, and you start to believe that this is an even worse treatment than being denied your orgasm when you’re seconds close to reaching it.
“Changbin, I’m going crazy if you don’t– hhh–” the desperation is dripping from your voice, and yet, he stares down at you in awe, “—if you don’t put it in right now—”
“Patience, baby,” Changbin mutters, though he doesn’t make any attempt to change his actions, “I promise it’s worth the wait. I’ll treat you good.”
He speeds up a little and that’s all it takes to have you gripping his shoulders for dear life. His fingers hit all the right spots that send you into overload and have your toes curling, but it’s the last curl in the right angle that has you sobbing uncontrollably. It’s a dream come true, how Changbin gives you everything and more, but before you can reach the height of your climax, he pulls his fingers out.
You’re about to whine in retaliation, because this is far from good treatment, until he brings his fingers up to his lips and brazenly sucks your slick off his digits, eyes never leaving yours.
“Tastes sweet,” he grins.
Hell, this man is out to ruin you.
You don’t have a comeback prepared for this. Too dazed to do anything except tremble beneath him, your mind is still short-circuiting from everything, but Changbin’s hard cock lies flush against your thigh, grounding you back to reality. Precum is oozing out of his tip and you’re about to reach down to give him any semblance of pleasure, but he’s quick to pin your wrist to the side.
“Let me take care of everything,” he mumbles as his left arm reaches for the nightstand to fish out a condom from the drawer. You shiver at the warmth in his voice; he really is hellbent on making it up to you.
Changbin works in quick movements, ripping the condom packet open with his teeth and sliding it onto his leaking cock in one swift movement. Your heart is hammering against your ribcage when he lowers himself on you, and a mewl escapes you when he teases your folds with the tip, drags it up to your clit and then down to your entrance, smearing your precum around.
Luckily for you, Changbin doesn’t linger and slowly pushes into you. Every time he puts it in, he makes sure to be careful. It’s the same story every time, because you always have to get used to the stretch of his girth. Inch by inch, he draws out every thrust with a stifled groan, because you’re always so tight every time, and he keeps checking your face for any sign of discomfort.
“Tell me when to go on,” he grits once he’s halfway in, but you can tell it’s costing him a lot to stay level-headed. It’s hard to keep any sense of reason with the way your pussy holds him in a vice grip. You can share the sentiment with the way his cock is stretching you out in a way your hands can’t even begin to fathom.
He fills you up so well that you’re rendered speechless, so you resort to prodding his lower back with your heel, stirring him into motion. The thrusts start out gentle, but they soon gain in intensity and you drown in the pleasure and I got you’s he’s whispering in staggered breaths.
Soon enough, he’s diving into you with such strength that it has you seeing white. An arrangement of uncontrollable whines and heavy grunts fills your ears, and you feel your stomach coiling. The final nail in the coffin is when you meet his gaze, fully blown with adoration.
When you fall apart underneath him, it’s with your head on could nine, a stream of love confessions, and your hands intertwined with his.
The hallway that leads to the lab Changbin works at is as sterile-looking as the dentist’s.
You decided to pick up Changbin after another long day for him at the lab, because the past few days he always came home looking like the devil incarnate — most likely his supervisor — sucked the life energy out of him in the form of countless self-experiments because they are short on time and it is just not possible finding enough people for the needed sample size.
It’s probably against every safety procedure and general lab etiquette that the break room, where all students enjoy their cheap coffee amidst the tedious chaos in academia, is just a door away from the lab. Practical for all parties involved? Definitely. Legal? Debatable.
You’re about to knock when the door of the break room swings open, revealing a familiar face.
“Wooyoung?”
“Hey!” He beams back. “Surprised to see me?”
Surprised is an understatement. Having only seen him in all black and an abundance of piercings dangling from his ears, the current version of Wooyoung in a lab coat, glasses, and a missing lip ring makes him a completely different person.
You nod. “I didn’t know you also studied medicinal chemistry.”
“Almost. My major is in biochemistry.” Wooyoung flashes you a cheeky grin. “Binnie and I are working on the same research project.”
“The one where you’re recreating drugs?”
“Ah, that’s the one!”
“How’s that going?”
“Eh,” Wooyoung shrugs, “Not bad but not good either. Anyways, what brings you here?”
“I was looking for Changbin,” you reply.
“Oh, he was just out for an errand. He should be back in 10.” He gestures for you to step inside. “Coffee?”
Naturally, you take him up on the offer. While he boots up the coffee machine, you sit in one of the white IKEA plastic chairs. Wooyoung occupies the chair in front of you and sets two paper cups on the table, sliding the left one in your direction. The coffee tastes as good as you expected from cheap coffee in a break room that doesn’t even provide ergonomic chairs. You would ask for some sugar if it weren’t for the fact that Wooyoung already added two packs and a boatload of creamer into your cup.
“You know, it doesn’t surprise me that Binnie fell in love with you,” he begins mindlessly in between sips, “You’re totally his type.”
If this is how he normally starts his smalltalk, you wonder how many people grew repulsive of him the moment he opened his mouth. That doesn’t stop you from playing along though.
“And that entails?”
“Your personality. You need a backbone to tolerate Binnie’s antics,” he remarks. That’s the most generic response one could even think of. “Also, your sense of fashion. That’s the biggest giveaway. Binnie’s really into the cute aesthetic and skirts and shit.”
You give him a look. “Aha.”
He has to be trolling. Yet upon further pondering, you begrudgingly admit that he may have a point. In hindsight, Changbin did stare a beat too long whenever you wore your flowy skirts in combination with one of his hoodies.
You miss the way Wooyoung observes you closely as all gears in your head are churning overtime, trying to find as many instances as possible that corroborate his statement.
“By the way,” He grabs your attention once more as he fidgets in the pockets of his lab coat. “My roommate’s birthday is coming up soon and he’s the biggest sweet tooth there is, so I decided to make him some self-made candy. I need opinions.”
The Gudetama tin in his hand stares back at you. The last thing you expected Wooyoung to carry was a tin of an egg yolk with a face. If people thought Changbin was a walking contradiction, they clearly haven’t met Wooyoung yet. Oblivious to your puzzled expression, he adds proudly, “Cherry flavor, and I promise this shit will rock your world.”
“Don’t mind if I take one,” you mutter and pop one in your mouth. In your opinion, it’s not the best there is, but it isn’t inedible either. But with the way Wooyoung is waiting expectantly with large puppy eyes, you don’t have the heart to talk about its mediocrity and say, “They’re really good.”
Wooyoung leans back in his seat with a satisfied nod. The two of you fall into casual conversation—a mild debate about almond vs. soy milk—until Changbin announces himself loudly as he enters the break room.
“And this is my cue to leave. See you around,” Wooyoung winks at you and delivers a hard slap on Changbin’s shoulder as he brushes past him. In response, Changbin trips him, causing the other to stumble and throw a string of profanities at him.
Once Wooyoung disappears from your eyesight, Changbin embraces you in a bone-crushing hug and kisses the top of your head. “Have you been waiting long?”
“No. Besides, Wooyoung kept me company.” Your voice comes out muffled as your face is squished into his chest.
He holds you close for a moment longer, allowing you to wallow in his scent. The mixture of disinfectant, musk and cedar wood makes you light-headed—strangely intoxicated, even. You’re usually not sensitive to scents, but the smell creeps into all of your senses, materializing in a foggy vision and clammy skin. It’s so overwhelming that you struggle to breathe, and before you know it, all strength leaves your body and you slouch on Changbin. The motion catches him off guard, forcing him to steady himself with a palm on the table.
Something isn’t right. Luckily, Changbin catches it too.
“You don’t look well.”
“I don’t feel well either,” you croak.
“Shit. Let me clock out, then we’ll head straight home.”
It’s a chain reaction. All alarms go off in Changbin’s head as he guides you to the chair, then strips off his lab coat and frantically shoves all of his notes into his bag, as if it were a race against time before you burst.
Perhaps it is one. It sure feels like one.
It definitely is one.
The drive home usually takes 20 minutes tops. This time, it feels like 20 years.
Everything is a blur and a mix of colors by the time Changbin carries you up the stairs to your apartment. It’s sort of a déjà vu, with the way your legs turned into soggy noodles and you regressed to dead weight as he hauls you onto the bed. To ease the flush on your face and beads of sweat forming on your hairline, he makes a beeline for the kitchen and returns a moment later with a damp cloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
Everything is a blur and mix of colors, yet you see Changbin as clear as day.
While concern is bleeding into his expression, you couldn’t care less. Instead, you focus on the way he bites on his bottom lip, his jaw clenches, and how you’d do anything to run your fingers through his soft hair. Screw that leather jacket he’s wearing, concealing his beefy arms and tats—at this point, you’d prefer his compression shirts that are a pain to get off.
Then there’s his damn scent. It grows more tantalizing, consumes you the more seconds pass. Everything reeks of Changbin Changbin Changbin and all you can think about is how you crave his strong hands on your thighs and spreading them wide apart, his tongue lapping up all your juices like a predator toying with his prey, his kind yet firm gaze forcing you to grip the headboard and astral projecting you three dimensions over.
Unaware of the hunger building in your eyes, Changbin gently wipes the sweat away with the washcloth. “You’re burning up.”
So it comes off as a surprise when your hand latches onto his and you tug him onto you, causing his upper body to crash into you.
“What are you doing?” Changbin hisses, searching your eyes for answers. Before he gets to push himself up, you wrap your arms around him and bury your face in the crook of his neck.
“Need you, now.” It’s not a request, and he knows it.
Nonetheless, he tears away from you, shooting you an incredulous look. You try to reel him back, but he manages to get away from the bed and takes two steps back. He’s trying to figure out the logic in your behavior; you see the cogs working overtime in his brain, but he falls flat.
“Seriously. Did you eat something bad?”
“Just had coffee in the office with Wooyoung and some of the cherry candy—”
“Cherry?” And just like that, he pieces the puzzle together. The next thing you know, Changbin is pacing around the room with clenched fists, spitting out every curse under the sun.
When he turns back to your clueless face, he sighs. Whether it’s in anger or in defeat, you can’t tell. “Those were aphrodisiacs. Wooyoung made them a while back but he fucked up the formula and I thought we threw them all away, because our supervisor would have our heads if we accidentally gave them to our test people—and you had—fuck, I’m so going to fucking kill him.”
He proceeds to walk back and forth, grumbling and blaming himself for letting it happen, but he’s so far up his head that he ignores the elephant in the room. He doesn’t look when you clear your throat, doesn’t register that you sit up. You can only take so much of the blatant disrespect that when you raise your voice, it’s fueled by anger.
“Before you get to fucking kill him, get to fucking me first.”
The brashness in your tone gives him whiplash and causes him to stop dead in his tracks. Finally, he looks at you. He sees the slight tremor in your hands, your half-lidded eyes, and your chest heaving. Gone is the concern and anger, now replaced with confliction.
Changbin has standards, morals, but his resolve is growing weaker by the second when he sees you panting with want. The sight of you has his blood rushing south straight to his dick. He’s never witnessed you this agitated, this needy before. But even if it breaks him, he will not cross that line. “No. Absolutely not. You’re not in your right mind—”
“And I don’t care!” You yell. The damage has been done already, so what is he hesitating for? Neither is Changbin stupid enough to start a full-blown lecture on not taking things from strangers (even if the stranger is Wooyoung), nor does he have to do some soul searching to find the cure to your current predicament. “I’m horny, I’m burning up and you’re the only one who can help me. You’re the only one who can help me but you don’t want to help me because of your strange self-imposed righteousness to not act on your corruption kink!”
If he was still fighting his inner demons of taking you then and there, you took him out of it. In place, shock has settled on his features. “What?! That’s not what’s happening.” Changbin says, but it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself.
“Stop lying to me! Chaeryeong alluded to it during your tattoo appointment, something about how half of your friend group is into that. Wooyoung said something about your fascination with my skirts?! If that isn’t enough proof, I can also ask Hyunjin about it. I bet 20 bucks that he will say something along those lines—”
“Okay, sure, say I admit to that. That also proves that you want me to be that way!” He visibly cringes at the weak rebuttal. It isn’t even a rebuttal at all.
“I don’t want you to hold back,” you cry, scrambling for any words that might trigger a switch in him. “I want it rough, I want it mean, I want whatever it is that you want to do to me.”
Changbin’s demeanor changes. As if the winds have changed, his expression turns cold, and all of a sudden, he’s the calmest he’s been in this whole ordeal. You can’t tell if you’ve pushed it too far, or if this is another one of his meditation exercises, albeit unconventional in a situation like this. It doesn’t stop you from growing wet with excitement though.
“You want it rough?” His voice is low as he lets his jacket drop to the floor with a thud, revealing the plain black tank top that brings the best out of his arms.
You nod shakily. All at once, you realize that you may have triggered more than you bargained for.
“You want it mean? Fine, I’ll give you mean.”
Expecting a hand bunching up your hair or rough hands roaming your body, you brace yourself for what is to come. However, nothing happens.
Instead, Changbin drags the desk chair to the foot of the bed at a painstakingly slow rate, then makes himself comfortable. With his arms draped behind the back of the chair and legs spread out, showcasing the prominent bulge straining against his jeans, he’s watching your every move like a hawk.
“You say only I can help you? Show me how much you need me.”
Your mouth runs dry. Where should you even begin? Changbin doesn’t give you the luxury of any pointers; simply waits for your next moves. Despite the simple pretense, it’s a lot he’s requiring from you. He’s usually the one to initiate, to talk you through it. This is the moment where your inexperience shines through.
Once the silence gets too loud, you look at him with helpless eyes. “How do I do that?”
Changbin raises a brow. After a moment of deliberation, he says, “Strip. Use your creativity. You can start with that.” You gawk when he points at the pillow next to you. “You want to try out new things? Now’s the chance to do all that.”
Is he really implying what you think he is? Your face burns even more with the way he speaks so nonchalantly, as if he does this every other Thursday. At least he’s given you directions, you figure, so you ignore the humiliation running in your veins straight to your core, and slip off the clothes until you’re left in nothing but your underwear.
“Take off everything.”
It takes you a bit of hesitation to slip out the remaining pieces of clothes. Even though it isn’t the first time he’s seen you naked, you’ve never seen him outright eye-fuck you like this. Changbin merely cocks his head to the side, giving an appreciative hum as his eyes rake down your figure and burn every last detail into his memory. “C’mon baby, give me a show.”
You shakily reach for the object in question and place it between your shaky legs and you instantly hate. The silk is soft and it doesn’t put up any sort of resistance, deflating in an instant. But the petname makes you want more, makes you want to be good for him like you always have, so you suck it up and bunch it up as tightly as you can before you rub yourself against it. Despite the pressure being nonexistent, the contact of it on your clit has you jolting forward. It’s then and there when you realize how much the aphrodisiacs are heightening your senses.
You try to rock back, but the pillow falls flat. What you’re displaying doesn’t even deserve to be called a show, just a haphazard attempt to experience any semblance of friction against your folds; a clumsy sequence of you adjusting the pillow and gliding once, then rinse and repeat. Frustration and tears bubble up as any variation you make to fold it doesn’t hold. This is a new level of degradation Changbin is subjecting you to and all he does is sit and stare in silence, relishing your state.
Sooner than later, your thighs are on the brink of giving up and you cannot be bothered anymore; not with the lazy smirk on Changbin’s face, not with the entire assignment. You throw the pillow to the side and look at him in frustration. All you get in response is an expectant look.
He wants a show? Fine, a show he’ll get.
Changbin looks unimpressed when you clumsily move towards him and slide a leg between his to sit on one of his thighs, though the raging hard-on he’s sporting begs to differ. He opens his mouth, about to breathe out a remark but jerks when you claw your nails into his shoulders and start rutting his thigh like a cat in heat.
“The pillow was n-not enough, hngh—” you gasp as you use his thigh to get off. The fabric of his jeans is rough against your cunt, and you’re pretty sure he can throw this pair away with the amount of your slick you’re spreading on it, but you’re too busy chasing your high to care.
And because he wants a show and you want to be good, you throw your head back, allowing the unfiltered moans to leave your throat. The effect is immediate; Changbin sucks in a sharp breath of air and flexes his thigh, giving you more room to work with.
“Fucking hell,” he grits as his hands latch onto your hips and dictate a rough pace while you’re riding his thigh, “you’ll be the death of me.”
The grunts don’t stop and it all becomes such a blur that you are soon reaching sensory overload, stars covering your vision when Changbin plants his lips on your collarbone and nips on the skin.
“Let me see how much you need me,” he coos, followed by a string of words of encouragement.
The sensations rush to your head and you can’t tell left from right apart, the heat of it all coiling in your stomach. At a certain point, you no longer comprehend what he’s saying, just that he’s saying something. Your hips stutter relentlessly, crashing against the pattern that Changbin is giving. It’s reaching flow state in its most degenerate form, and you’re not really aware of it when you cum on him with a cry. His hands are brutal as he encourages you to ride out your high, drenching his jeans to the point past saving.
It’s still not enough.
Luckily, Changbin thinks the same and carries you back to the bed, letting your back fall against the mattress. He wastes no time stripping his own clothes and before you know it, his mouth is on yours.
“You’re doing so good. So good for me,” he groans in between kisses, his length lying heavy on your abdomen. The praises don’t stop coming in, even when he props himself on his forearm to reach for the drawer of the nightstand, but you stop him at the wrist.
“No condom.”
Changbin’s eyes widen and the corners of his mouth twitch. “You sure—”
“I swear to God, if you don’t put it in me right now, then I—” you choke, body spasming when Changbin bottoms out in one fluid motion without warning. The immediate stretch has you moaning in pain, and before you get to adjust to his sheer size, he starts moving with slow, controlled, deep thrusts.
“Changbin— f-fuck—” you weakly hit his shoulders in a lazy attempt to get him to back off, “I can’t—”
“Wrong, you can do it,” Changbin says it with such conviction that you believe him. He shudders, overstimulated by feeling you bare for the first time and almost topples over from the sheer force you’re sucking his cock in. “My baby’s so good for me, taking it all.”
You roll your eyes back, reveling in the compliments he showers you with in between grunts. Soon enough, the stings turn into pleasure and once Changbin senses that your hips are bucking up for more, he throws one of your legs over his shoulder and deepens the angle. The intensity of it all has you babbling nonsense and clutching the bedsheets.
“I’m close,” you sob, sensing your demise climbing up to you at record speed.
“Cum for me,” Changbin orders in between groans, then adds, “Be a good girl and cum on my cock.”
Your orgasm crashes onto you like a tidal wave. Changbin’s name leaves your mouth like a broken record and you’re pretty sure you’re drooling from how good he’s fucking you through your orgasm still, but you cannot be bothered to care. He’s close moments later and just when he’s about to pull out, you wrap your legs around him, locking him into place.
Panic flashes in his eyes, because he’s running out of time and cannot hold it in anymore but you beat him to it. “Want you to cum inside of me,” you beg deliriously, “If you’re going to ruin me, do it— h-haah— do it properly.”
The last comment makes him capitulate. Shivers ripple down his spine as he spurts white inside of you with a deep groan. His broad frame is trembling as your pussy milks him dry, cum hot and sticky as your fluids mix with a loud squelch. He’s still heaving when he pulls out of you and stares at the aftermath in awe; you spent under him, cum pooling out of you. If only he were well-versed in photography, because it’s the prettiest you have ever looked and it’d be a shame to keep this image only in his memory.
You wonder how Changbin still has the energy to get up when you’re as spent as a ragdoll. The fog in your vision gradually clears as you stare up at the ceiling, unable to do anything else.
“How are you feeling?” Changbin grabs the washcloth from before and begins to clean you up to the best of his abilities, keeping his touch light and gentle. It’s not enough to entirely clean the mess between your legs, but it should suffice for now, until he has regained the energy to carry you to the bathroom and wash you off properly.
“That was incredible,” you breathe, still basking in the afterglow.
Changbin drops the cloth aside to grab the glass of water and let you take small sips out of it. He finishes whatever is left before he joins you in bed, wrapping an arm around your frame and pulling you close.
“This will not be the last time, right?” you ask.
Changbin smiles and plays with a few strands of your hair.
“I’ll ruin you as much as you want.”
Wooyoung is grinning like a Cheshire cat, oblivious to the impending storm when Changbin enters the office.
“Binnie! How are you—”
“Jung Wooyoung, I’m going to kill you.”
The next thing Wooyoung knows, he’s in a headlock at the mercy of the other. This is one of the moments where Wooyoung wishes he never quit taekwondo. It is also one of the moments where Wooyoung finds it unfair that Changbin still knows the moves by muscle memory despite having quit martial arts in middle school. Damn that black belt.
“Before I die, pray tell, did I do any good to the cause?” Wooyoung wheezes, tapping incessantly at Changbin’s bicep to ask for air. It is all in vain though, as Changbin purposefully squeezes tighter. Where the fuck is their supervisor when Wooyoung needs her the most?!
“Give me some from your aphrodisiacs stash and you might live another day.”
ofc we remember!!! me personally i had started stanning skz not long ago! you and sunny were my favorite!!!
ah yes, the degree crisis. itll pass certainly! as long as you know what you want and put your mind onto it youll be fine 🫶🏻
kpop truly do be there for us during our darkest times uh? skz comeback went off, blonde chan is back, stayville is healing heh
I said it in a comment but the surge in (kpop) fandom content should be a recession indicator 😭
OMG YOU RMB SUNNY???? That’s elite ball knowledge right there omg
Admittedly I’m not as invested in the promotional activities besides their music as before but chan with short blond hair? the lunar year special where he was clinging on to minho? Someone give the stylist a promotion, stayville truly is healing
no way i just got a hardskz notif after 6 years ???? hello!!! sad to hear life has gotten bad again, i hope nothing too serious is going down? hope you're taking good care. youve been missed!
it's been over half a decade omg </3 truly i pulled an ao3 cursed arc this time around but hello hi!!!! thanks for the message!!! luckily i've been through my worst slumps over the years and i swear this time it's mainly the shared generational crisis called "will i get a job with a master's degree????" causing me distress.
also, i rediscovered kpop and that's courtesy of spotify obnoxiously recommending me the do it ep as well as exo cb bc i am always sat for exo. but either way, i've missed the community and hope you've been doing good too!
omg hi, you're back. I legit don't even remember my anon tag, was it 🤙?
if u are the one who was a silent reader for a year and then decided to slide into my dms and used that anon tag bc u clown the aussies a lot and have a soft spot for jisung, then yes that's you 👉🏻👈🏻
ive been good!!! slowly coping with university but now ive reverted to bad school habits like ✨ procrastination ✨ in the form of harvest moon but oh well nO CAN DO- anyways wbuuuu
Could I maybe be ☀️ anon then? 👉🏻👈🏻💗 also dw dw I adore plot-heavy stories (and therefore pwp too) and when I first read the descriptions of your planned series I literally squealed 😂
not @ me hoping that nsfw stayblr has now progressed onto loving porn with plot but that's exactly what im hoping bc the last time i checked we were still in the loop of just smut hhhh
lulu!! i got a notif saying you were back!! welcome back i hope everything's okay with u <3
aaaaaaaa hi sugarplum!! everything's alright so far i just finally got my priorities straight and know how i wanna run things in general :') i hope you're doing fine too and stay healthy mwahh
did you just say bf??? as in boyfriend??? omg i'm so happy for you what the heck 🥺🥺🥺 also in other romance and dating news, i have a girlfriend now! we've been dating for two months as of two days ago!!!! (she's one of my longtime mutuals and i confessed to her. didn't think it was gonna work but now we're happily in love!) and i'm glad you're doing okay and i'm so happy to see you back on my dash! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺
yes bf as in boyfriend 🥺🥺 also oMG DIA CONGRATS I HOPE YOU TWO WILL BE BAPPY FOR A LONG TIME 🥺🥺🥺
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