home is where the heart is

ᕱ⑅ᕱ mdni

[streetlvght]

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―⋆ ˚ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

ɪɴᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴄᴀʟʟ … ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʀᴀɪɴ 📞 ᴘɪᴄᴋ ᴜᴘ?

― ⋆ ˚ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

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hello? can you hear me? you can? hiiiii.ᐟ

⟢ rain ⟡ 25 ⟡ binnie enthusiast ⟡ 18+ only

⟢ sfw & nsfw writing ⟢ semi ia thanks to exams

⟢ minors or ageless blogs will be blocked.

⟢ spam/main blog: @binniesdimple 𑣲

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⟢ asks: open.ᐟ ⟢ rules & m.list : construction.ᐟ

-ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

⟢ latest work: the warmth of a hearth

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please do not steal, transform, upload or reupload to ai my work in any way. all work belongs to me.

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ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ …

[cbini]

in the end, i hope it’s you and me

pairing: seo changbin x afab!reader

warnings: vampire!changbin, human!reader, angst, blood, implied vomiting (but not in detail), gagging, ems’ typical tender-horny, kissing, neck biting, blood sucking, unprotected sex, cowgirl position, missionary, sub!bin, dom!reader

a/n: saw this tweet about changbin being a terrible vampire and remembered that i already have a thing about that lol. i haven’t written something smallish in a while and i thought that ask would be fun to expand on🧛🩸 i feel like this is a little bit rusty since i haven’t written in a while, so i would really appreciate some feedback!

there is only so much you can do with the bathroom door shut and locked in your face. you stare at it in shock, frozen half in confusion and half in misplaced anger at being shut out without understanding why—the only thing left to do is turn around to head back to the living room to clean up the mess changbin made before it becomes an un-fixable one. 

scarlet stains the carpet where he dropped his blood bag. it was so unlike him, you think. you’re more confused than anything. there’s a hot pink bendy straw sticking through the valve at the top. you pick the bag up by the corner with the tips of two fingers and bring it to the kitchen, setting it in the sink to drain the rest of the way. when you make your way back into the living room, the bathroom door is still shut. you grimace and pick up your phone. 

chan answers on the second ring. 

“hello?”

“hey! how do you get blood out of the carpet?”

“uh?” you can hear his chair creak over the speaker. he’s sitting up probably. “hey! um-? hey, peroxide. peroxide, yeah, um. are you…? you good?” 

“yeah! yeah, you know. your friend made a mess on our rug, it’s fine! okay. okay- peroxide. gotta go, love you, bye.” 

chan is in the middle of immediately returning his own love you, bye when you click the little red button on your phone. you knew chan would know the right answer. chan always knows. he’s no supernatural being, no vampire or faerie or wizard, just a bit of a clean freak. 

you saunter toward the storage closet for peroxide and a sponge. thank god chan was right. you’ll never tell him that though; blood red turns pink before your eyes, and the pink bubbles and fades to white. a quick scrub with the sponge wipes away a corner of the mess entirely. 

your hair is sticking to the back of your neck by the time you’re done scrubbing changbin’s midday snack from the living room floor. you dab at your forehead with your wrist and sigh. poor, forlorn cinderella. he still hasn’t come out of the bathroom yet, and you frown. you walk to the kitchen first, washing your hands with hot water and soaking the sponge as well, making sure to chuck the emptied blood bag in the trash when you’re done. you stop by the storage closet to put the peroxide back on your way to the bathroom. 

“changbin?” you call. he says nothing. he always has something to say, so his silence makes you frown harder. “binnie, can i come in?”

you put your ear to the door then. you can’t hear much, maybe the hiss of running water like the toilet’s been flushed and a quiet sniffle. and not a sneezy kind of sniffle either. 

your spine stiffens. “bin, what is it?” 

the lock clicks then, there’s an uneven shuffle of shocked feet. you take a hurried step back from the door just as changbin opens it wide. his face crumples pitifully when he sees you; his shoulders slump inwards. you gasp at just how miserable he looks. he’s… dead. this you already know, have known. but he looks particularly more miserable than usual. 

changbin’s eyes are watery and red. his nose is pink and nearly raw at the round tip. his tan skin takes on the barest hint of gray on even his best days, but standing before you now, changbin looks tinted green. 

“oh, honey,” you coo. you reach for him without a second thought. changbin falls into your arms with a soft noise, pressing his nose to your neck and sniveling wetly. he holds his own weight as best as he can, but you can feel how weak he is in your arms. he shivers—his teeth chatter. 

in the doorway of the bathroom like this, you can’t see his reflection in the mirror before you. just a black shirt shirt, just a pair of black sweatpants. the sink is wet and tinted pink from the blood he likely rinsed from his mouth. 

when changbin reluctantly pulls his face away from your neck, there’s drool seeping down his chin because his fangs have elongated in his mouth. all that does is make his face crumple again, tears continuing to fall harder.  

“i don’t want it!” he cries. your frown deepens, your eyebrows furrow. you know he doesn’t want it. he didn’t choose this life; he’d never choose it for himself. changbin’s face is wet with spit and tears, so you lift your hand to wipe at his chin and your thumb comes away tingling from his numbing venom. “the bl- the bloo-”

he can’t even finish saying it. he slaps a hand over his mouth and steps away from you. 

you throw your hands out like you’re trying not to spook a wild animal, and changbin doubles over above the toilet. changbin was sensitive in life and is just as sensitive in death, if not even more so. despite his broad body, that strapping stature you love so much, even his accidental acquisition of vampirism wasn’t strong enough to erase even the smallest of changbin’s prudish predispositions. it takes several moments for him to collect himself, but thankfully he doesn’t get sick again. 

“is it- is it really that bad?” 

all that does is set him off again. 

“no!” he wails. he dabs at the corners of his dripping eyes. “no, it’s not that bad, i just-! with the stuff from the church, i can taste the ba-huuh-” he gags then, waving his hand in front of his face and coughing wetly. 

“you cannot taste the bag, drama queen,” you argue. there’s a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. 

“i can so! i can so taste the bag, and it tastes sterile!” 

changbin seems to forget how sick he feels as he argues back, so you’ll take that as a win. 

“okay, then don’t drink from the bag. why don’t you try something else, then? a rabbit? deer, maybe? it should taste better if it’s from something like, live, won’t it?” 

changbin blanches for a moment. his eyes widen, he blinks rapidly, and you watch him burst into miserable tears again, but this time because of something you said. he sits down right in the middle of the bathroom floor, and you feel like the worst person in the world. 

his eyes are wide, pupils dark and trembling as they look up at you. tears drip steadily down his face. “i- i can’t do that! i can’t- they’re so… small, and i’m big, and-” 

you drop to your knees and hold his head to your chest. changbin wraps his arms around your shoulders. how awful, how shameful you are. you still feel relieved when he reaches for your touch to calm him even though you were the one who caused him such distress in the first place. 

“i know. i know, baby. i- i know. i don’t know why i said that. i’m so sorry, bin. my sweet boy, my changbin would never hurt a fly, would he?” he shakes his head hard. your heart hurts so bad; it aches in your chest like it’s eating a hole through itself. 

your heart- your beating heart, circulating such decadent blood so tirelessly throughout your body. he must hear it thumping in your chest where he leans against it, knocking into the cage of your ribs. 

your heart beats for changbin, your body a home for him. 

of course your blood would flow for him too. 

you squeeze him closer and press your lips to his curly hair. his stuffy nose whistles as he breathes deep. he’s so weak that he trembles in your embrace, his arms nearly limp where they loop around your body, exhausted from so many things at once. his empty stomach, how much he’s cried. you lift his head up with a gentle touch to the scar on his chin—changbin’s fangs are still popped, your eyes can’t help but catch on the pointed tips of them, and his eyes follow your gaze. 

“you’re so hungry, sweetheart,” you whisper. “i can help. i can help you, changbinnie, won’t you let me?” 

changbin gasps. he startles, makes to move away like you’re the sunlight that could burn him alive, but you hold onto him tightly. you’d do anything in the world to help him, if he’ll only just allow you. 

“i would never,” he hisses. “i would never hurt you. i would rather die. over, and over, and over again.” 

you’ve never seen him more serious, and you’ve been together for years. changbin’s small mouth is set firmly, his brows furrowed. there are still tear tracks drying on his handsome face, but it’s almost like the severity of his words have stopped the tears where they roll. changbin’s eyes are locked on your face, but he reaches forward to cup the nape of your neck. his grip doesn’t waver. 

you reach for him then, rubbing his arms and shoulders and clutching at whatever piece of him you can. “i know that! i know, i’m not asking you to hurt me. but seeing you like this makes me sad. if you don’t like to drink out of the bag, then don’t, if animals are out of the question, then that’s fine too, but you can’t just starve yourself, okay! you- you have to- changbin!” you crawl closer to him then. clutching his shoulders isn’t good enough anymore, you have to feel his face. “will it be better if it’s from me? can it please, please be from me?” 

changbin looks torn, but his pupils are so wide that his irises are almost completely black. 

“you would really do something like this for me?” 

you flash your left hand at him then, wiggling your fourth finger at him, gold band glinting at him under the light. 

“i knew what i signed up for, you know? i could have said no. i didn’t. i don’t want to. i want you changbin, and i want to help make you strong again.” 

“you’ve always made me strong.” 

he says it so earnestly that it nearly closes up your throat. your eyes burn with it, your lashes flutter, and your honest reaction is the first thing that brings a small smile to changbin’s sweet face since you walked into the bathroom. 

“you’re going to make me cry!” you whine.

“you can’t cry! if you cry then i’ll start crying again!” 

your cheeks are hot. you love changbin so much. you want him to stick his fangs into your neck and drink from you until he’s strong again, until he’s vibrant and happy and himself again. “come suck on my neck or whatever.” 

“i- okay.” 

“oh? okay.”

“okay,” changbin laughs. 

you pull him up with your own giddy laugh, but it turns into a yelp when he wobbles in place. he’s still weak, though he won’t be for much longer. you grab a handful of towels before stumbling to the first floor bedroom with him in tow. changbin watches you lay the towels on the bed and raises his brows when you double them. 

“what? just in case,” you clarify. you turn to him then and gesture a finger up and down. “okay, get naked.” 

“wh-! really? i’m at my most vulnerable right now and you want me naked?” 

changbin grabs the hem of his t-shirt anyway and lifts it over his head. he clicks his tongue but still kicks off his pants, dips his thumbs under the elastic band of his boxers and eases them down his toned thighs. he shakily climbs onto the bed and toward the pillows when you gesture to it. 

it’s your turn once he’s done. keen eyes watch you then—his pupils blown and his throat dry. despite your own lack of hunger, your fingers shake when you reach for your shirt, they fumble over the button of your jeans. changbin’s chest heaves; you’re a dead man’s source of oxygen. your panties rest in the dip of your jeans where they’re bunched on the floor, you think you accidentally kick your bra underneath the bed. you’re too busy looking at changbin to be sure though. 

“you’re so beautiful, beautiful,” he breathes. 

you hum. he smiles, reaches out for you. “you trying to get in my pants?” 

“yeah.” changbin nods. his grin is so sweet, and his hand is the perfect mix between soft and rough when you finally reach it. “i think i did a pretty good job considering you’re already naked~” 

you climb into his lap. the kiss he gives you tastes like minty toothpaste and a hint of iron, but most of all it tastes like changbin. like sunlight. he’s beautiful and pliant underneath you, greedy to touch you and be touched. his body is cold, but his skin warms the longer you linger in place. 

pressed to his strong chest like this, your nipples pebble at the chill of his skin. changbin purrs against your lips and nips gently at your bottom one, lapping softly with his slick tongue. your own catches the pointed tip of a readied fang; it tingles, a viscous pearl of numbing venom drips onto your curious tongue and causes you to whimper lightly.

you pull away from his addicting little lips with a wet smack and a huff, guiding his face to your warm neck. changbin stiffens, his hands tighten on your waist. 

“don’t you want it?” you slur. a kiss to his plump cheek, his hairline. “you can, baby. love you, i love you.” 

you hold the back of his head and card your fingers through his curly hair. changbin pushes and pulls against it, his head lolling like he can barely keep it up. he’s dazed at the proximity to your neck alone, twin fangs protruding from his mouth. drool leaks from the corners of his lips again, and this time, different from when the two of you were in the bathroom, the small rings of his irises are a deep, blood red. 

he’s still fighting it though. that hasn’t changed. 

changbin’s pupils are wide, and his eyes water once more when he looks up at you. 

“i’m so scared,” he whimpers. “what if- what if i can’t hold back? what if i can’t stop, and i lose control, and i-”

you cover his mouth with your hand to stop him. changbin knocks his forehead against yours and breathes shakily. you kiss the hand covering his mouth, and then kiss his mouth when you finally pull your hand away. 

“changbin.” firm, but kind. that’s what he needs. you grab his cheeks and squeeze them, making sure that he’s looking you in the eyes when you speak again. “changbin. changbinnie, you will not hurt me, do you hear me? i know that. i am not afraid of you. honey, the fact that you’re so worried about this in the first place tells me that you’re so much more in control than you think you are, okay? you love me too much to hurt me. i know that.” 

“i love you sho mush,” he warbles, muffled and slurred because you’ve still got his cheeks and your firm grip. 

you let him go and tilt your head then, baring your neck to him. changbin lurches forward—you can feel him trembling, his stomach shaking and his hands clenching wherever they can reach. instead of a bite like you’re expecting though, you feel lips at your pulse point, your jaw, your shoulder, and arm, and breast. his lips are soft and wet, pillowy as they always are; there’s never a moment where you don’t love changbin’s lips on your skin, but they aren’t what you were anticipating. the wet suction to your neck makes you groan regardless; your hips begin to undulate in his lap without a second thought, your fingers curling over his shoulders. 

“are you just going to kiss it?” you breathe. 

changbin hums, barely pausing his kisses to give you an answer. “i’d rather. you always like it when i do that, don’t you?” 

“you’re gonna make me horny! just- just get on with it, will you? you’re- stop! you’re still hungry!” 

“oh no, it would be so terrible if i made you horny…” changbin drags his lips across your jaw and over to your ear. he eases the lobe into his mouth and sucks, and you arch your back. it presses your breasts into his chest again like this, digs your bare cunt into his soft cock. it makes you whine. under any other circumstance he’d already be hard and ready to slip inside where he belongs. but he’s hungry, he’s weak. changbin doesn’t have enough in him for that right now. 

you grind against him anyway and he grunts. he wants it too. 

“i want this in me,” you huff. “bite me!” 

changbin’s throat makes a funny noise. he laps at your pulse point, kisses it with sloppy lips and palms at your ass.

“it’ll hurt!” he whines and pulls away to look at you. he shakes his head. he doesn’t want to hurt you. changbin doesn’t ever want to hurt you. 

“my tongue is still numb from kissing you earlier, you know. your venom will help, right? you won’t hurt me, changbinnie. i trust you. i trust you, baby, trust me too, okay?” 

changbin nods shakily. he nods again and lets you guide him back toward your neck. it’s already tingling with numbness from his spit. his arms wrap loosely around your back, and he kisses your pulse point one more time before his lips drop open. his eyes water again. 

“are you sure?” changbin begs. 

he can hear the fond smile in your voice when you confirm. 

“i am. are you?”

“n-not really.” 

but he does trust you, so his fangs pierce the tender skin of your neck anyway. 

there’s no blood-curdling scream. you don’t writhe in his lap in agonizing pain, you don’t push him away or hit him, but you do lace your fingers through his hair and hold him close. 

changbin knows heaven isn’t real because he’s dead and still walking the earth, so this must be the closest he’ll come to it. this is the closest thing he’ll ever come to ecstasy in its truest form, to a piece of heaven. this surely must be what contentment is, what bliss and solace and nirvana are all rolled into one, to drink from his love’s body in this way. 

changbin’s eyes squeeze shut and he shivers when he gulps down his first meager mouthful of warm blood. 

it’s different from the blood bags he gets from the church, because it doesn’t taste sterile and plasticky. it’s different from the one time he couldn’t hold back his bloodlust and let himself feed from a squirrel on the edge of his property, different because it’s not making his skin crawl or itch and he’s not wanting to stand under the moonlight and wait until dusk turns to dawn so the sun can set his skin ablaze in penance, because no matter how small, that life wasn’t his to take. 

it’s different because it’s you. because you love him and you want him to drink from you. because for some reason, you still love him even though he is undoubtedly a monster, even though the making wasn’t of his own will. 

your blood is rich and warm; changbin swallows it down with a strangled moan, but it catches oddly in his throat and he can’t hold down a gag. 

you huff. “you did not just gag, seo changbin.” though your sudden prissiness is quickly thwarted by an overbearing amount of insecurity. you frown. “is it- is it bad?” 

changbin pulls off like he’s been burned. his eyes are wide and wild. his irises are blood red, and there are squiggly purple veins sprouting from underneath his eyes as well. his lips are dripping red with your blood and he runs his tongue along the seam of them. he’s beautiful; he’s blushing pink along the apples of his cheeks. 

he leans back into your neck again, latching himself to the skin. it’s almost like he’s drunk on it, all messy lips and tongue before he ever puts his fangs back on you. his mouth is so wet; your skin is soaked. you can’t tell if it’s wet because of his venomous spit or your blood or if it’s a mix of both. changbin’s fangs latch back into the pinprick holes in your neck and his words are slurred and muffled around them, but he tries to reassure you sweetly anyway. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry i like it.” 

you coo then. you understand now, of course you understand what he means. you don’t taste bad at all. he doesn’t want to like it, but he does. your sweetheart just can’t help it. 

“you don’t have to apologize for liking me, silly.” 

changbin whimpers. your index finger twirls through the curls at the nape of his neck, and changbin opens his mouth wider to suck deeper. you moan at that—it feels good, almost like a hickey but just a bit deeper, more concentrated. your head is swimming and the tips of your fingers are tingling. your fucking clit is throbbing so hard it feels like a second heartbeat. 

“i like you so much,” changbin rushes, chomped into the dewy skin of your tender neck. “ i love you. i love everything about you.” 

you feel it then. the moment you feel something prod your sensitive clit, you grind down onto it like it’s second nature. 

“fu-uck!” your head lolls. you grin. “mm, fuck. is that your wooden stake or are you just happy to see me?” 

“steak?!” blood bubbles from changbin’s mouth with a gurgle as he pulls away from your neck. “i want a steak!” 

he whines loudly and clutches your hips roughly, using his grip to grind you down on his now beautifully hard cock. 

“fuck me really well and i’ll make you a rare one.” you nod, and changbin nods too. you press your weight onto one knee and lift onto the ball of one foot, reaching down to take hold of his dick and guide it to your clenching hole. “fuuuuck, you were so hungry. did any even go to your belly? huh? or did all of it go to this pretty cock, baby? it’s so hard.” 

you at least think a little bit of your blood went to his belly. his cheeks too. he’s blushing such a pretty pink, and his skin is warm to the touch. but god, his cock is so hard and purpling up at the tip. it seems he’s gained some of his strength back too. he’s shaking for a different reason now. he’s more worked up than anything, thighs trembling underneath the weight of yours because he wants to fuck you, not because he can’t hold the two of you up.  

“please,” he begs. changbin’s eyelids are drooping, but they’re locked on your blood smeared neck. 

“please what, baby?” you tilt your head to show your neck off even more. a tease, a promise. 

“sit on it. please, please sit on my cock, gorgeous, please.” 

he asks so sweetly, so of course you sink down on him then, basking in the stretch of his thickness and the heady buzz of blood loss, what it feels to feed your lover in such an intimate and new way. 

changbin cries something pitiful into the air just as you claw at his chest. blood raises to the skin where your nails raked their brands down his pecs. his hips twitch. 

your head is still swimming. it lolls on your neck, back and forth almost like a pendulum. the loss of blood from your neck allows you to be filled up in this new way, a wonderful way, stuffed full in your cunt and held tightly to a warm, strong body. the first real roll of your hips brings a cry to your lips, and changbin echoes it with his own. your rocking immediately turns sloppy and slow, holding metaphorical shaky hands with changbin’s weakness from earlier so that he can be strong instead. 

“you feel s’good,” you slur, and changbin throws his head back as pleasure overtakes him entirely. your blood is drying on his chin, a streak of wet spit shining through it from the corner of his mouth. 

“‘m gonna cum so quick, i- fuck.” 

you’re flipped over on the mattress before you realize it at all, cushioned on the pillow and dizzy after being spun around so quickly. the warm towels fold awkwardly underneath your back, but you hardly even notice when changbin thrusts into you so wildly, so desperately in his need to give and seek pleasure. he rocks the bed with his movement, shunts your body with him too, and you hold onto him with pliant limbs as he uses your body to feed himself with you in this way too. 

“you g’nna use me to cum?” you smile. your tits are bouncing on your chest, nearly bouncing to your chin. 

changbin sits up on his haunches then, braces on his palms to see your blissed out face and watch the way your body moves as he fucks it. your neck is smeared with your own blood and pricked with two small holes. he hates it. he loves it—he hates that he loves it. his cock strokes somewhere special inside and your eyes roll. changbin groans then, bites his bottom lip and pierces it accidentally with a fang. you lean up on your elbows and stick your tongue out to lap up that scarlet little pearl, a tease even when you’re shaking apart and trembling. 

his cheeks puff. his eyes squeeze shut as your lips tint red with his blood that you gifted him, and changbin whimpers something sweet.

“i know that face, baby,” you whine breathlessly. “i know those noises. cum for me. cum, changbinnie. won’t you do it for me?” 

he’s helpless to it. changbin nods into your chest, dropping from his braced palms to his elbows and rutting into you hard. he fucks into you so deeply that you can’t help but cum with him, your throbbing clit just as eager to be touched and rubbed that his pubic mound does the trick before your own fingers can. 

changbin is a welcome weight atop of your chest, warm and bright and comforting. your fingers card through his hair. his cheeks are still pink. his thumb traces the shape of a heart onto the skin of your arm. 

“you’re so warm,” you whisper, and changbin smiles. 

“you made me that way.” 

[snug-gyu]

Soft MinBin hours (98/?)

DO IT Jacket Making Film

[cbini]

changbin saying “enjoy me take me” in the new code❗️like WHATTT

🏷️: light d/s dynamics, playful needy bf changbinnie, sub!bin, dom!afab!reader, unprotected sex, lowkey breast worship but just lowkey, also lowkey hinted free use

a/n: you read my fucking mind im so serious….. i’ve been thinking abt this alllll day HDJDJD i also feel like i haven’t written bin as this submissive in a minute even though that’s my brand, so here i am making up for lost time.

you’ve only held out this long because changbin likes when you do. he wants to sulk and whine; he wants to fuss and complain, such pitiful appeals only lightened by the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips and the mirth twinkling in his eyes when you finally give in. the computer screen you’re trying to focus on might as well be turned off with how little of your attention it keeps. it hardly holds a candle to the sight behind you, what you really ache to see, but you’re practicing patience for your sake and his.

changbin is the picture of pure comfort where he lounges against the pillows of your bed, his arms spread wide and relaxed beside his head, one toned leg bent at the knee. he’s beautifully bare and beautifully spread, a decadent feast you’re not allowed to indulge in quite yet. his muscles lax and body pliant. you hear his feet swish against the rumpled sheets and a hum from so deep in his chest that he sounds like a purring cat.

a whine then. more rustling of the sheets.

“yeobo.” if you look at him, it’s over. of course it would be. you can’t resist his sweet eyes or the even sweeter curves of his small mouth in general, but especially not when he calls for you like that. “mmm~ pay attention to me.”

you haven’t gotten the chance to answer before he’s barreling on, his voice pitching as he complains from the bed.

“changbinnie is laying on such a nice, warm bed. wahhh… it’s really a shame there’s no one around to share it with...” you hear his head lift up from the pillow like he’s waiting for your reaction, his gaze pointed at the back of your computer chair. he sighs then, something put-upon and dramatic, and you hide your grin in the palm of your hand. “changbinnie is loooonely.”

“changbinnie is loud,” you say, and you’re met with a squawk. “i’m trying to pay attention to this.”

“if you paid attention to your best changbin you wouldn’t even have to try.”

you roll your eyes fondly and lean back in your chair. it squeaks with the added weight, and changbin makes some giddy sort of noise like he’s proud to finally get his way. but you haven’t turned around yet. no matter how much you crave the sight of him, no matter how much you want to see the pleased smile he’ll give you or the rounded apples of his cheeks.

“give me a little bit and i’m all yours. let me concentrate on this, hm?”

changbin clicks his tongue, huffy. “you’re already mine right now!” the sheets rustle again, and there’s movement out of the corner of your eye. you bite the tip of your nail like that will give you any more resilience, eyes nearly crossing in your failing attempts to stay focused on the screen in front of you. what website are you even on? what day of the week is it?

“concentrate on me.” the bed creaks. changbin braces himself at the edge, kneeling on the mattress and waiting so sweetly for your attention. you don’t have to see him to know his hands are placed primly on his thighs, his eyes wide and moony in wait. “if you do, i’ll be really good.”

another fond roll of your eyes. with raised eyebrows and your head leaned back against your chair, you finally roll your head to the side to look at him in mock sternness. “oh, so you’ll be bad if i don’t?”

changbin’s never bad. he’s a good boy to his core, working himself into a sweat to make you proud and bring you pleasure in any way that he can, his own endlessly heightened by yours. he whines and fusses to play coy with you but turns as sweet as spun sugar when you direct your gaze toward him, as pliant as a rag doll at a single touch. he’s your teddy bear, as gentle as a kiss, those toned muscles only put to use when you want them to be. changbin couldn’t be bad if he tried, and you know that he won’t try.

he shakes his head firmly, that smile you love so much curling the corners of his pink lips. his bottom lip hides his bottom row of teeth from view. it’s a smug little thing, spoiled, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. it falls into something softer when he speaks, his voice earnest and eyes the same.

“no,” changbin assures. his fingers twitch where they rest on his thighs. his cock follows their lead, half hard against the crook of his thigh and growing the longer you keep your eyes on him. “no, i’ll just be extra good. i’ll be extra good and make yeobo feel nice. hm? won’t you like that?”

you turn your chair and cross your legs. changbin follows the movement with wide eyes but slips them back up to your face when you still. he licks his lips, drags his teeth against his top one, and it comes away pinker than it was.

“you want to make me feel nice?” changbin nods. his breathing picks up, his chest heaves. his nipples are dusky and hard — if you sucked one into your mouth he’d whimper and writhe.

“please,” he begs. and isn’t that what you were waiting for all along? that sweet sounding word, desperate and wrecked as it tumbles from his lips. “i do, please let me. i’ll- sweetheart, you know changbinnie will do anything. you know i will, right?”

you coo, something condescending that makes his chin quiver and his cock jump. that’s when you stand on your feet, toes pushing into the carpet as you step toward him. your panties drop, your shirt lands on the arm of the chair. changbin follows you with eager eyes, his chin ducking like he wants to bow his head to you but can’t bring his gaze away from your face. you lift your hand to cup his cheek and he leans into it without hesitation, his skin warm and balmy under your tender touch. you’re just barely taller than him like this, and he looks up at you like you hung the stars in his sky.

“you’ll do anything?”

changbin nods slowly, still nuzzling into your hand. his eyes begin to droop, his lashes flutter.

his brows furrow when you slip your hand from his cheek. it doesn’t go far, trailing down the warm skin of his neck and stopping at his chest. changbin catches on quickly even when his headspace is settling in — a soft press to his sternum rocks him slightly on his heels, and changbin takes that as his cue to back himself toward the pillows. he slips from his knees and pushes himself back slowly on his palms, easing himself backwards to the head of the bed. it gives you enough room to climb onto the bed yourself, crawling on your knees and pushing yourself between his. changbin bites his bottom lip. his ears are pink, his chest is flushing just the same.

when he reaches the pillows, changbin leans back against them and arches his back. he lifts his hips to show himself off, his heavy cock standing proud and leaking at the tip from anticipation alone, and then he reaches for you when you come close enough, calloused palms sliding up your hips and squeezing the plush skin there.

you lick the tips of your fingers and bring them to his cock. a moan catches in changbin’s throat, his own fingers tightening their grip on you. he dazedly helps you settle into his lap, the backs of your thighs thrown over the tops of his, slick cunt kissing the crown of his cock as you raise onto your knees in preparation to take him. thick pressure at the warm give of your hole, twitching fingers and bated breath.

“enjoy me,” changbin pleads. his hips shift, and when you finally sink down on the short length of his cock, his thighs tremble underneath yours. “take me.”

changbin’s head is thrown back. you lean down to kiss the moan as it travels up his throat, trail your tongue to the hinge of his jaw to taste him there too, salty and sweet. he’s stretching you to your fullest, but it’s almost as if he’s the one who needs a moment to adjust to the silk between your thighs. his legs writhe, his chest jerks. a slow circle of your hips makes him keen. changbin holds you close to him in an absentminded display of strength he isn’t aware of showing — an arm around your waist, a hand on the nape of your neck. chest to chest like this, you wonder if he can feel the beat of your heart.

your nose bumps his earring. changbin squirms underneath you as your tongue laps at his lobe, a sultry whisper in his ear. “i always enjoy you.”

“yes,” changbin begs again. he squirms, his fingers curl shakily into your hair at the nape of your neck. “please.”

“yeah? you like it so much. you like being enjoyed, but i think you like being taken even more.”

he babbles then, a breathless stutter. both options too good to be true. you can hardly move with his hold on you, but your hips kick toward him softly, a grin settling on your face and tucked into his neck at the cracked mewl he gifts you with. you fuck him like that until your lower back strains; you kiss his cheek, his forehead.

“let me up, bunny.”

changbin whines. he shakes his head, sparkling eyes wide and yearning as he looks up at you.

“just a little bit, just a bit. i promise i won’t go far.” you kiss his round nose to placate him some more, but a kiss to his lips is what does it. changbin goes lax at the first press of your lips and the greedy slide of your tongue. he can’t stop touching you even now — his hands move with your body, sliding down to the dip of your back when you lift up on your knees and curling limply underneath your arm when you rest an elbow on the pillow underneath his head.

your breasts brush against his chin like this. if he leans up and you lean down, he’d have a face full of you. changbin’s throat clicks. his breath leaves him in a rush, and he promptly buries his face into your chest. he stays there as you start to roll your hips again, easier this time, the strain in your back lessening now that you’re positioned higher. changbin’s breath is hot and his lips are soft, frantic kisses pressed to every bit of you he can reach while you bounce in his lap.

“mm~mmm,” his hum bounces with you, muffled by his mouthful of nipple and his needy, flicking tongue. both of his hands slip underneath your arms to clutch at your shoulders and hang on for the ride. your nipple slips from his mouth with a slick noise, and he pants wetly into your bouncing breast, as pleased as pie, exactly where he wants to be. “yes, ahh-! take me. take me, take me.”

your hips move on their own accord, desperately rocking against him to take everything he willingly gives. changbin’s hips buck into yours like he just can’t help it, meeting you in the middle so that you feel him even deeper. your skin is beginning to stick together with sweat, the noise of your melding fills the room and makes your ears heat up. so sinful, so perfect, your beautiful give and take.

there’s no feeling in the world like this and nothing more breathtaking. changbin is like a mirage underneath you, panting and open and honest. his eyes glazed with a mixture of love and lust, his honey colored skin tinted red all the way down his chest. he’s desperate in his own ways but so are you; changbin wants to be taken and you want to take, so you do, and you will, for as long as he’ll let you.

“you like being used so much!” you whine, clenching down on his cock to make his eyes roll, but yours roll first. “you love it. you love it- i wanna-” your hips shudder, your clit rubs his smooth pubic mound and you growl like you’re rabid. “-wanna fucking keep you in my bed all the time, use you up just like you want.”

changbin hiccups. his head bobbles, a dazed nod that he can’t seem to stop once he starts. he tries so hard to focus on the words he wants to say, but his hips are rabbiting into yours and his hands are scrambling along your skin. “please. please- i’d let you, y’bo. i’ll be good, i’ll- m-mm changbinnie’s- changbinnie’s…” his words cut off. changbin arches off the bed to slam his hips into yours before he finishes his thought, breathless and overcome with pleasure. “changbinnie’s yours to use.”

“you are, baby, you are mine to use. isn’t that so nice?”

he just groans, groans and twitches and lolls his head to the side. his cheek bunches like that. his eyes are so hazy, his lips are so plump. you’re so lucky he allows himself be yours — there’s no one else you could ever want like this. changbin’s hands slide off your body like he just doesn’t have the strength to keep them there anymore. his arms flop to the bed, bent at the elbows and pliant by his curly-haired head. prime for the taking, spread out and vulnerable, changbin lets himself be used by you.

your palms find his chest so you can use him for leverage. changbin’s skin is slick with sweat but endlessly sturdy, and he watches with drooping eyes and buzzing hips while you move on top of him.

with aching thighs, you rock your hips until the burning in your belly ignites into something hotter. changbin’s thick cock strokes deep, and you cum around it with a guttural noise, as uninhibited as the way you feel about him. your knees snap around his waist, your nails claw crescents into his pecs. changbin takes everything you give him like he always does, like this is what he needs instead of a climax of his own — he circles your wrists with desperate hands to keep yours in place, grinds his hips up-up-up to lengthen your orgasm.

“did it feel good?” changbin slurs. “was it good?”

was i good? it goes unsaid, but you hear it all the same.

you lean over him again, hands sliding up his arms until your fingers entwine with his, your breasts pressing hot to his heaving chest.

“it’s always good with you. it always feels good, i always enjoy every bit of you i can get.”

he moans at your words and tilts his chin until you give him a kiss. his lips are slick, his tongue is warm. thank goodness his mouth is so little; it’s easier to learn, easier to map with your own probing tongue.

you want him to cum. you want to feel him cum inside, so you tell him just that, breathing the words into your kiss and feeling his body tense as you do.

“can i?” he asks, like he just wants to make sure you won’t change your mind. changbin is a good boy. he couldn’t be bad if he tried, and you know he would never try. “okay- okay, i’m- mmm, changbinnie’s going to- cum for you, for you… for you, i love you.”

changbin’s cum coats your insides when you tell him you love him back, eyes locked on his fluttering ones, fingers squeezing his once, twice, three times when his start to squeeze yours.

he’s cute when he cums. he’s cute all the time, almost unbearably handsome on even his worst days, but he’s really cute when he cums — his face scrunched, his cheeks puffed. he’s pretty pink and kissable, docile when he’s finished pumping you full of him, stretching underneath you like a lazy, purring cat.

“did it feel good?” you repeat his own question from minutes ago. changbin’s smile is slow and dazed, but that mirth is starting to dance in his eyes again.

“it’s always good with you~” he parrots. he was so fucked out you’re surprised he even remembered what you had said.

changbin’s soft cock slips from your clutches when you lift yourself up and off of him, laying flat on your back beside him with your arm thrown above his head. he rolls into your side then and throws a leg over your waist. his arms are tucked against the side of your chest, his nose nuzzles at your ear.

“yeobo,” he breathes. it’s hot and ticklish against your ear, and you scrunch your neck with a snort. “take me~”

“again?! slutty. you’re insatiable today!”

he sidles even closer to you, cooing silly noises into your ear and mouthing at the lobe. you squish his thigh with your fingers and he flexes it with a showy grunt.

“take meee…” he bumps the side of your face with his round nose and presses kiss after kiss to your cheek when he’s done. “to the kitchen~ don’t you want a snack now too?”

[cbini]

fem minho being so soft and whiny while being fucked!! even better if you have to work for it a little to see her like that, making her cum a few times until she’s floaty and pliant and purring (kitty lino ml) under your hands. listening to her moans get whinier as you rub her pink little clit in circles, thighs trembling, nails digging into whatever part of you she can reach, head tipped back exposing her flushed throat covered in little bites and hickeys 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 watching her cream oh so prettily around your fingers + strapmmngh

waaa so sweet… with her bunny teeth biting her bottom lip to try and hold back her pretty noises. she likes to do the fucking but is so sweet when she’s fucked instead, bangs stuck to her forehead and chest and ears flushed strawberry pink. she’s so docile after you make her cum a couple of times… so twitchy, but she holds your wrist in her little hands when you’ve got fingers rubbing her inside and out and won’t let you pull away even when she starts to tremble. she’s so pretty when she cums and she gets so tight around your fingers, even tighter around your strap. tight and creamy…. what a combo <3 stick your messy fingers in her mouth to see her eyes roll.

[plushworldz]

trust i got yall fr 💯💯💯

[cbini]

the night he came home

pairing: seo changbin x afab!reader

warnings: ems’ official binchael myers debut!!, dead dove: do not eat, dubious consent, stalking, obsession, parasocialism, violence, mentions of death, blood, and related injuries, manipulation, inhuman strength, (not-established) consensual voyeurism, pain kink, praise kink, exhibitionism, masturbation, fingering, choking, kissing, overstimulation, finger sucking, dry humping, begging, oral sex, loss of virginity, nipple licking, unprotected sex, corruption kink, i actually don’t think this is nearly as dark as the tags make it sound lol

a/n: happy halloween! thank u to my @binniesdimple for sending the ask that inspired me to finally write this and for holding out so long for both! i was originally just going to make this an ask drabble, but i thought it deserved more since this is a concept i’ve wanted to write for a few years now. this is a Super Different type of fic from me lol, and i don’t really know when i’ll write another one in general, so please let me know if you enjoy🎃

w/c: 16.7k

the first time it happens, it feels like your heart is going to hammer right out of your chest. it pounds against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape, pulses so hard that it warms the skin above your sternum red-hot. 

a shadow sluicing through the murky orange light of a street lamp, moths flitting around the burning bulbs and buzzing electricity. your front yard stands so still that you might would play it off as a trick of your tired eyes if they weren’t locked on the shadow in the middle of it. if the shadow weren’t there, if that mass weren’t reflected across the green of your grass, a body shaped black hole nestled between your trees, darker than the dead of night itself. 

you can’t pull yourself from the window no matter how much your conscience begs you to. back away, it cries. lock your bedroom door and barricade it, pick up your phone and call the police. but you do none of those things, body frozen stock still in front of your bedroom window on the second floor of your newly renovated home. 

it’s not like you don’t know the backstory behind the house you purchased. in fact, you went out of your way to find it, scoured countless websites of homes for sale in haddonfield when you finally decided renting there wasn’t enough anymore. your friends couldn’t talk you out of it, your family got tired of worrying over its black sheep. the realtor handed you the keys with a tight smile and guarded eyes. you knew what she thought of you right then and there, when you took the key from her hands with a growing grin and walked away with a pep in your step. 

what type of person would buy this house? who in their right mind would ignore the dark history behind it? that’s what she was thinking. 

you knew what house you bought. 

you knew whose house you bought; that’s why you bought it after all. your boundless fascination with an old local family and their sinister little boy led you here, to the ill-fated seo home, and most importantly, whether it be by destiny or damnation, it led you to him. 

it led him to you all the same. 

it’s almost like his gaze is what locks you in place, the gaze you reciprocate without even seeing his eyes. your own are wide on your face, dry and burning because you can’t bring yourself to blink out of fear of the figure disappearing from your sight. 

the figure, that shape. The Shape. 

the mask he dons cuts straight through the darkness of the night, infamous white that’s grayed from years of wear, his navy coveralls. only with the help of the streetlight can you tell that his clothes are plastered with blood, dark maroon soaked into a shoulder, a side, a thigh. 

it makes sense that he came back here. that he would seek the refuge of his childhood home after a night of hard work, after exhausting the body he dwells in. it makes sense that he would want to come home, but now, he finds you there. a stranger in the only home he’s ever known besides stark white walls and barbed wire fences. the slight tilt of head is the sole action that gives away his surprise despite how motionless he stands. something glints in his hand; pale moonlight reflects off of the surface of something sharp and unmistakably silver. something else, wet and dark and thick, drips from its bladed edge to stain the grass underneath a pair of heavy boots. 

your breath finally catches up with you then, sputtering choppily through your lungs until you wheeze. you can feel the hair standing on the back of your neck, the tremble of your hands, the frantic rabbiting of your heart. despite your fascination with him, you never expected to see him like this. you never expected to see him at all, not really, you always assumed the notorious memory of changbin seo’s havoc on your sleepy town of haddonfield would remain as such. he’d rot away in an institution, and you’d be the lunatic living in his old family house, telling those ghost stories to squealing trick-or-treaters, to shithead teenagers who ding dong ditch the seo house like they’re trying to play with the boogeyman. 

you should have known better than that. the devil is never finished with his work, and now he’s here for you. 

yet he doesn’t move. he doesn’t come for you, doesn’t prowl his way across the stretch of grass to find an entrance into the house you’ve taken from him. he’s just as still as you are, watching. a predator stalking its prey, you’re a fly ensnared in a spider’s web, wound tight in the sticky silk of that endless, primordial black of his gaze. 

you’d stay here all night memorizing the shape of him, The Shape itself, but he doesn’t hold the same sentiments. your eyes are burning — he’s still there when you force yourself to blink hard, still there as your eyes begin to water and tears start streaking down your face. his head tilts the other way. he surveys you, studies you like he’s looking at you underneath a microscope, a specimen squirming on its back, before straightening his head and backing into the shadows. you can see his figure walking across the sidewalk, his gait eerily slow and steady until he disappears behind the houses across the street like a fleeting apparition. 

you slump into your desk chair with a frantic breath, almost like whatever was holding you in place has been snapped clean in half by the knife in his grip. your chest heaves, and you place your head in your hands. tear tracks stick to your blotched cheeks. you lift your head with a slightly crazed laugh, warm breath stuttering out of your mouth as viscous spit snaps between your teeth. 

to the left of your window, newspaper clippings held to a cork board with thumbtacks and tape. 

you don’t close your curtains that night. or the next. 

you stop closing them all together, and your newfound routine of leaving your curtains open around the clock leads to an even bigger obsession of being seen. adrenaline fizzes in your gut like shaken carbonation at the nightly sight of that ominous form at the edges of your property, anticipation is the straw you drink it with. anticipation for what? the shhk of a knife plunging into your tender side? it would send no reaper or ferryman; death itself wields the weapon that steals the light from your eyes. morbid fascination of his actions aside, you don’t want changbin to kill you. you don’t want him to see you the way he sees the others; you want him to see you for what you are. someone different. someone safe. 

so no, it’s not death that you’re anticipating, though you might should based on how unstable and unpredictable the object of your affections is. it’s a step closer to the home that calls to him, the broken glass of a smashed window in answer. changbin wouldn’t need to break anything to come inside. you’ve taken care of that already; the snick of your previously bolted windows, the loosening of their wood, porch light left on through the night. should you leave your extra key under the mat or keep the front door unlocked all together? maybe you can ask what he would prefer. maybe you won’t have to. all he has to do is come closer to find out. 

yet he remains shrouded in darkness, a stationary figure beneath the trees illuminated only by a single streetlight. you won’t push your luck. you want to feed the rabid, stray dog, not scare it away with too much persistence. 

so you keep to your routine, watching The Shape watch you until your eyes are dry and drooping, tossing and turning in your sleep when it manages to find you, that ever-present crawling sensation of being watched following you even into your dreams. 

an old t-shirt you wear around the house takes the next step for you. 

it’s been a quiet night, as peaceful as it can be with a masked man standing at the corner of your yard. it’s a constant thing, the way your eyes flit from your computer screen to the view outside, the shadow across your grass. you’re adjusting how you’re sitting at your desk underneath the window when the loose collar of your shirt dips down your shoulder. you tug it back up absentmindedly, a chill kissing your skin from the cool air of your bedroom. 

slow movement out of the corner of your eye has your back stiffening ramrod straight. your hair stands on end, arms and legs pebbling with goosebumps. 

“fuck…” you barely breathe the word, making sure your lips don’t curl around it like they normally would. 

just as your eyes lock with his, those endless black holes carved into his mask, your shirt slips again. down your shoulder, baring your collarbone and the smallest hint of the swell of your breast. 

you can’t bring yourself to blink, can’t bring yourself to lift the fabric back to its rightful place for a second time, not when he’s finally taken a step toward you. not out of the shadows, not all the way, but closer. closer than he’s been yet. 

like he’s trying to get a good look at your newly uncovered skin. 

“do you want to… see?” 

it’s whispered again, gaze locked on the tilt of his head. your heart races. he’s killed people for less than this. 

he’s killed people for more than this, you know that. several people, couples. women who started off with their t-shirt dipping down their shoulder just like you who wound up naked and writhing with a partner, so entangled in each other that they never saw the figure standing in their doorway or the glint of the knife raised above his head until it was too late.

is that what he’s thinking of now? what your body looks like under its clothes? how you’d use it for pleasure, yours or someone else’s? he’ll never find you with a man here, not when he’s the only man you ache for. 

the dip of your ratty t-shirt doesn’t feel much like seduction to you, but to a man who’s only known confinement and solitude, a man who’s never felt the warmth and softness of a willing body, you must look scandalous. you feel scandalous. you feel desired with his eyes on you. you brought him closer after all. something hot and achy simmers in your belly at the thought.  

you swallow hard then. the goosebumps ease away only to be replaced by a cold sweat; it drips down your temple and catches on a fluttering eyelash, salt dipping and expanding like an eyedrop when you go to blink it away. it stings, so you blink hard, and when you open your eyes again, the shadow of changbin seo is gone for the night. 

“fuck!” it’s louder this time. confused, hurt. he wanted you, didn’t he? he was curious at least. wasn’t he? you stand up then, so quickly your chair rolls back on the carpet. you lift onto your tip toes to look all around your yard to no avail. “fuck, why’d you push it?”

upset with yourself, you rip off the shirt like you hate it. your shorts follow, panties next, stripping completely bare on your way to your bathroom to take a shower after procrastinating all night to spend more time with changbin. you open up the bathroom closet for a towel, and the shower curtain squeals on the rod when you push it to the back and turn your water as hot as it will go. 

your nipples harden when you step under the spray and shut the curtain. smoothing your hair back from your forehead, you tilt your head back and let water soak your hair. it runs down your spine in rivulets, splattering against the shower floor until it swirls down the drain with a gurgle. the touch of your own hands is a silent comfort, nails against your scalp, gentle tugs of your hair to detangle it. soap slathered hands caress your body when you’re through with your hair. 

you’re only human. it’s only natural. how would calloused hands feel in place of your own? a broad body behind you to lean against when the steam goes to your head. your hands slide down your stomach. 

he’d smell of musk and blood, the water falling between your bodies turning pinky-brown and back to clear the longer you’d stand under the spray together. 

when the soap is rinsed from your hand, you bring it between your legs. the touch would be rougher if it was his, with rugged palms and curious fingers. has he ever felt a cunt before? felt the stretch of a tight hole or the pulse of a sensitive clit? he can’t have. wouldn’t. yours will be the first he feels. 

it’s easy to recall the feeling of those dark eyes on you, his attention so intense it feels like a physical touch every night. 

you’re wet between your legs. it’s not from the steadily flowing water — this wetness is sticky and tart, and you dip your fingers into the opening of your clenching hole to coat the tips of them in it. your breath leaves your lungs in a heavy exhale at the first roll of your fingers over your clit. it’s not enough, even if the pressure on that tender place makes your knees wobble slightly. you press a hand against the shower wall and prop your leg on the lip of the tub. precarious. dangerous. one wrong move and you’re cracking your head on the tile. you’re not worried about falling; strong arms are locked around your waist even if only in the fantasy rotting your mind. hot lips on your neck, the metallic squeal of a knife blade being slid across the shower tile. 

a whimper tears through your next heavy breath. you scramble for the removable shower head, skating your other hand across the tile until it reaches the nozzle to turn the heat of the water down. two twists of the head, two plasticky clicks drowned out by the new sound of jet streamed water, a concentrated flow right out of the middle. you spread your legs wider. 

the warm stream teases your thighs first, accidental but not unwelcome, kissing the tender fat before you adjust your grip on the handle to turn it inwards even more. the first splash of water on your clit makes you keen, your empty hand slipping down wet skin to spread your puffy lips. you press your face to the wall and keen once more when your tits brush it too. your nipples pebble again as they brush the cool tile, and with your ear pressed to the wall, all you can hear is the hiss of the pipes, the echo of water hitting the basin of the bathtub, and your own pathetic cries. 

it’s just too bad that you miss the creak of wooden floorboards outside the open bathroom door, or the slow twist of the knob on your bathroom closet. you don’t hear it ease open or click shut either, not when all you can hear is the sound of your own pleasure. 

your wrist is cramping, your right leg is starting to shake, heel thumping on the lip of the tub sporadically. you adjust the stream again so that it hits your clit at an angle, bubbling water beating against it from below. 

“please… please,” you beg. you vee your fingers wider so the water hits you more directly. your voice hitches, your toes curl. your imagination takes hold and runs wild — there’s an arm around your waist, a hand around your throat, a fat, heavy cock tucked snug against your behind. the scent of blood is so poignant that it’s like you can really smell its sharpness in the air, as if he’s really as close as you’re dreaming he is. 

if you move the showerhead in small circles it almost, almost feels like the pressure from a rolling tongue. god, his tongue. changbin’s tongue, pink and slick. he wouldn’t know how to use it, but you’d show him how with fingers curled in his hair and bumping hips against his face. he’d have to take his mask off, and isn’t that a thought? you’d rut yourself against the latex nose of that infamous mask if you had to, but you’d rather see his face and feel the heat from his mouth. you’ve seen his mugshot, a copy tucked safely into a scrapbook on top of your desk. he has such pretty lips. 

it’s with that thought that the heat in your stomach finally boils over. it builds in your belly and between your legs until it can’t anymore, and you cum with a warbled cry of death’s name, knees knocking and shower head clanking against the wall when your fingers rush to finish the job. your cunt pulses hotly, body jolting at almost the same rhythm until you finally give yourself a break. your fingers are pruny, your body freezing cold with the warmth of the shower spray trickling against the tile. you hang it back with shaky fingers and turn the water until it’s all the way hot again, sighing as the stream blankets your shivering body. 

with your water finally turning lukewarm, you shut it off and ring your hair out lightly. the bathroom is fogged with steam when you push the shower curtain back and step out of the tub. you grab the towel from the counter to dry yourself off, wrapping it around your body before brushing your teeth and unwrapping it when you’re done to use on your hair on the short walk back to your bedroom. the towel gets tossed in your hamper as soon as you make it back, sparse water droplets cooling on your spine and dripping down your legs. 

the thunk of your dresser drawer doesn’t cover up the slow creak of the floorboards behind you, and you swivel around with a sleep shirt tucked to your chest. 

an empty hallway, still illuminated by the bathroom light you never turned off. you tuck your head through the hole of the shirt and sigh, frowning to yourself. 

what were you expecting? a dark figure in your doorway? the brooding form of changbin seo standing between you and your only way out? a knife in his hand, a tilt to his head, his sights on you and no one else. 

it’s only wishful thinking. 

something wet touches your hand as soon as you grip the knob to close your front door. it’s late — much later than you usually step foot inside your house for the night courtesy of a work dinner that you couldn’t manage to get out of. a slow roll of your car into the driveway showed no sign of changbin beneath the trees, so you thought you missed him all together. a look down at your hand has you second guessing yourself. 

red smears your palm, the unmistakable twang of iron fills your nose. your own fingerprints streak white through the bloody handprint on your doorknob. droplets of blood trail along the floor and lead only to your staircase. there’s another handprint on the wooden railing and a streak along the white wall, high enough from the steps for you to conclude it’s from a shoulder, like someone paused to rest against the wall before finishing their trek up the stairs. 

it’s not just someone. you feel your stomach swoop with it. who else could it be? 

“changbin?” you call. your voice teeters on the edge of frantic. he’s shown up bloodied before, coveralls smattered, butcher knife soaked, but it’s never brought him inside. it’s different this time. something is wrong.  

you’re taking the stairs two at a time. the second floor of your home is dark; the lights you left on — the bedside lamp in your room, a night light in the hallway — have all been unplugged. the study to your left is empty from what little you can see, room only visible from the pale moonlight filtering through the glass panes of the window. your throat clicks when you swallow hard, and you turn to make your way to your bedroom. 

the rush of heavy footfall intercepts you before you can get there. there’s a hand squeezing your neck, warm, wet liquid smears across the skin as your back hits the wall. your head follows suit, smacking the wood so hard that it bounces like a marble on the floor. something sharp digs into your side and pierces the skin. you’d feel white-hot pain clawing its way down your body if you weren’t so focused on how his hand feels around your neck. 

he’s hurt. there are fingers missing from his hand. 

it doesn’t stop him from lifting you up by his grip underneath your chin, and that’s when your vision starts to fade. black swims at the corner of your eyes, obscuring that old, worn mask you’ve dreamed about for so long, but once your hazy eyes settle on him you can’t look away even as the life slowly leaves your body. his eyes are as black up close as they were from across your yard. 

black eyes. the devil’s eyes. words from a doctor who thought he knew changbin better than you could. i realized that what was living behind that boy’s eyes was purely and simply… evil. 

looking into them now, the endless, black pits behind his mask, you realize now that he transcends every shallow word ever used to describe him. why should you judge a cat for killing a mouse? a lion for tearing into an antelope with its bloody, snapping maw. how could you ever cast judgement on changbin for doing what he does when it’s what he was made for? you understand him — you’re the only person who accepts him as he is, for what he was born to be. 

you try to swallow but his hand is in the way, blocking the spit from sinking down your throat and choking you even further. your toes curl in your shoes. your eyes are starting to bulge. 

“it’s okay,” you wheeze. “it’s okay, ‘s okay, ch’ngbin, you’re okay. you’re home now.” 

he jostles you against the wall. your head knocks the corner of a picture frame but you hold in your wince. it’s then that you lift trembling hands to latch around his wrist. your grip is nothing compared to his, fingers weak from your lack of oxygen, but you’re not trying to push him away. you’re just holding him, thumb shakily stroking the sweaty, bloody skin peeking out from under the sleeve of his coveralls. changbin’s breath turns ragged under the mask at your touch. he jostles you again, squeezing your neck once before throwing you to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs. your knees hit the wood so hard you know they’ll bruise a nasty purple, tender skin scraping raw underneath your jeans, bones aching already. 

you inhale your first available breath so deeply that it makes you cough, a gag working its way up your throat behind it. changbin watches you dry heave with an unnerving stillness, so completely motionless in front of you that he would fade into the darkness if it weren’t for the white of his mask. blood drips from his fingers and pools onto the floor by his boot, his chest heaves slowly. 

“you’re hurt,” you wheeze. your throat stings around your words. “i can- can i help you?” 

changbin doesn’t move. he doesn’t lend a hand to help you up when you brace your hand against the wall to try and stand on wobbly feet, beaten knees threatening to give out the moment you put pressure on them. it hurts to bend them, but it must hurt even worse to be missing the fingers on your hand, so you take a small step forward and look to him with open palms and a placating voice. you won’t spook the rabid dog tonight. 

“there’s a first aid kit in my bathroom. i should have something to bind your hand with?” there’s nothing in his demeanor that tells you he’s listening to you or that he’s even going to let you past him unscathed, but the fact that he hasn’t cut your throat or pushed his thumbs into your eyes says something. “can you wait for me in my bedroom?” 

you don’t wait for him to make a move first, instead, you brush past him as smoothly as you can while hobbling on sore legs. he’s still standing in place when you turn around to look at him, but he’s turned himself toward you now. it would scare you breathless if you were anyone else. 

you cock your head at him, as he’s done to you so many times. your heart thrums in your chest. “go sit! i’ll be right there.” you shoo him with a shaking hand. 

you’re half expecting that to be it, for him to stalk toward you with his knife raised and his boots heavy, but changbin surprises you once again by turning slowly and walking stiffly toward your bedroom. you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and flick on your bathroom light. the bulb buzzes for a moment before quieting down, and you take a moment to look into your mirror. 

your eyes are bloodshot. faint bruises are already blooming on your neck; you watch your jaw drop in the mirror, turning your head from side to side to get a better look at changbin’s mark on you, his fingerprints branding your skin. they’ll undoubtedly look worse tomorrow — blue and purple and black — but what a blessing it is to wear them and still live to tell the tale, for now at least. what a blessing to be chosen in this way. the wobble of your tender knees tells you they’ll be just as bad as your neck in the morning. 

the dark, growing stain on the side of your shirt reminds you that your neck and knees aren’t the only places that changbin has left his mark on tonight. your hands drop to the hem of your shirt, and you hiss when you lift it up, cotton fabric clinging and pulling at the shallow wound on your side. the skin around the cut is dark and hot and tender to the touch, blood still pooling at the gash when you press curious fingers to the skin around it. you lower your shirt with trembling hands and decide to worry about that later. 

the closet door creaks slightly when you open it, and you rummage through toilet paper and cleaning supplies for the pink box containing your nearly untouched first aid kit. something else catches your eye before your first aid kit does, a gasp slips from your throat as you reach for the first towel folded on top of your pile. pink flowers and soft cotton meet maroon and dirt, fibers matting under your fingertips where it would usually be soft and smooth. you can tell just by the color that it’s blood that has dried into your unused bath towel. musk fills your nose as you lean closer to the towel, musk and stale blood and nature, and it hits you then that tonight isn’t the first night changbin has made his way into your house. 

could it have been-? no, you surely would have heard him last night if he snuck inside and hid in your bathroom closet. right? but you opened the closet before your shower and would have seen the dirty towel sitting right there on the shelf. and- oh. you bite your lip. it’s a vague memory from the night before but clear enough to give you clarity. the scent of blood, pungent and sharp, filtered through the steam from your shower while you pleasured yourself. you were knee deep in a fantasy of him; you thought your imagination ran so wild that you could smell him. 

you can’t keep him waiting any longer. it’s with renowned vigor that you reach for the medical kit hiding at the back of the shelf and shut the door when you’re done, leaving the dirtied towel where it sits like a trophy on a pedestal. 

you pad toward your bedroom with a racing heart, gripping the handle of the box with tight knuckles. 

changbin isn’t sitting on your bed when you find him, but he is standing in front of your corkboard. the light of the moon from your bedroom window shines a spotlight on cut-out articles detailing his most heinous crimes, his patient records from smith’s grove surrounded by hearts and stickers and flowers. a twinge of embarrassment burns your chest hot, but it’s gone before you can focus on it. he deserves to know someone still cares for him after so much time away. he deserves to know you care for him and how softly you’d do it. 

“changbin,” you say. he gives no indication that he heard you, but he adjusts his grip on the knife held in his five-fingered right hand. “i’m going to turn the light on so i can see better, okay? just for a minute. so i can wrap your hand up.” 

you see the cord from your bedside lamp laying on the ground, so you place the first aid kit on your bed and bend down to plug it back up. changbin is there to meet you when you stand to your full height and turn to face him. he moves so silently that his looming presence startles you more than the knife digging into your neck does, and your hands snap up to clutch onto his wrist for the second time that night. with the soft lamp-light cutting through the darkness of your room, you can finally see his real eyes behind the mask. endless black holes give way to a deep, chocolaty brown iris of one eye and a milky white of the other, a scarred gash running perpendicular through the injured eye. his stare is intense and more beautiful than you could have ever imagined. 

he presses the knife to your neck harder and it knicks the tender skin under your ear, another mark his blade has kissed into your skin. you can feel the blood beading at the cut and sliding down your neck — changbin’s good eye follows the trail until it pools into the collar of your shirt. 

“it’s okay,” you breathe once more. your fingers squeeze his wrist. “it’s okay. it’s okay, i swear. i only want to help, i don’t- it won’t take long to bandage up and then i’ll turn the lights off again, i promise.” 

changbin’s chest heaves. he digs the blade of his knife into your skin hard one last time until you’re whimpering in pain. only when your face shrivels up does he release the pressure, but he doesn’t go far and neither does his butcher knife. he tilts his head to the side and keeps his eyes locked on yours before rearing back to pierce the blade of his knife into the wall. it’s deep enough that it sticks in place on its own, handle protruding mere inches from your face. 

your lashes flutter. pitiful, sparkling eyes look into his as your mouth drops open slightly, and changbin regards your awe-stricken expression with a lone blink. he takes a step back from you then, and another, and your mattress creaks when he promptly sits down on the corner of it. 

it takes a moment to get your bearings straight — for the breath to fill your lungs again and for your eyes to refocus on your surroundings. changbin’s injured hand twitches where it’s resting over a thick thigh, and his eyes raise towards yours. 

“oh. oh, sorry. here, yeah. let me.” 

you open the first aid kit and ruffle through its contents. bandaids, medical tape, advil. you find the roll of gauze and a bottle of saline before easing onto your bruised knees. 

“can i…?” you ask softly, beckoning toward his hand. he doesn’t move, but he doesn’t lunge at you again, so you take his stillness as the go ahead to start working. changbin’s hand is soaked with blood and hot to the touch, and your stomach rolls with nausea for the first time that night. your spit gets thinner, curdling in your stomach as you swallow. jagged pieces of flayed skin surround protruding meat and severed bone, his ring and pinky fingers missing at the bottom knuckle. “oh, god, what happened?” 

he’s not going to answer you and you know it. the only thing you do know is that this injury wasn’t from a knife — this was no smooth cut. did he get them caught in something? was he shot? 

the scent of saline burns your nose when you snap the bottle cap open, but it’s not nearly strong enough to overpower the cloying scent of iron and musk. with a trip to haddonfield memorial hospital out of the question, you and your lack of medical knowledge are his only other option. you remember saline-soaked cloths from childhood, your mother holding onto your kicking legs as she applied gentle pressure to a nasty scraped knee to clean the wound. this is the best you can do for him. 

“it’s- it’s probably going to sting,” you try. your cheeks feels hot with embarrassment again — of course it stings — he’s missing two fingers, a little saline is the least of his problems. 

you squeeze the liquid saline onto a cloth tucked into the med kit. it darkens when the clear liquid soaks into the middle, and you brace yourself for bringing it to the two empty spaces at the far edge of his hand. changbin doesn’t hiss or shout or groan at the first touch of the cloth, it’s you instead, gasping in shock like you’re the one experiencing his pain for him. his body remains still, his eyes locked onto where you touch him. dark blood seeps through the cloth, but hopefully the pressure you’re applying over the spaces of his missing fingers gives the saline a chance to sterilize his wound. the pressure from your own hand slows the bleeding from his so much that you’re able to work with the gauze next. 

changbin’s heavy breathing and the rip of the gauze away from the roll are the only sounds filling your bedroom until you speak up again. 

“here, almost done. i’ll just wrap this around your hand, okay?” from your place on your knees, you glance up at him to find him already looking back at you. it’s a position you’ve dreamed of, just under different circumstances. his coveralls laying haphazardly on the floor, his knees spread, his hand in your hair while you mouth at his cock. the look in his eyes right now matches the look he always gives you in your wildest fantasies — heavy, intense, dark. it’s not too different, now that you think about it. your mouth may not be on his fattened cock, he might not be naked and hard and hot, the mask might not be resting on the nightstand, but you’re serving him this way, and he’s letting you do it. your cunt clenches. 

you use your thumb to hold the end of the gauze against his wrist and drag the material up and over the spaces of missing fingers, repeating the process until the gauze is wrapped thick around his hand. a piece of self adhering tape gets wrapped around it next to keep the gauze in place. 

“there, all done.” you settle back on your heels with a shy smile. “you‘re a good patient.” 

his eyes drag from yours down to the wrap around his hand. it’s the first hint of true cognizance you’ve seen tonight, the first hint of personality. changbin lifts his left hand and flexes the three remaining fingers on it, surveying the work you’ve done. 

and he’s up before you know it, standing so abruptly before you that it sends you onto your haunches. 

“wait! wait,” you beg. you grab onto his pant leg like that could ever keep him from leaving, a risky move with him standing above you. you’d be ashamed of yourself if you weren’t so desperate to keep him for even the smallest moment longer, pleading on your knees for his attention like you have no dignity left. changbin tilts his head and breathes low, regarding you with unreadable eyes. “last night. last night, you came inside, right? while i was in the shower? you heard something. heard me? i… said your name. i’m sorry. sometimes i just- i think of you, i can’t help it.” 

your grip loosens on the leg of his pants and you slump onto your hip, exhausted by your own honesty. blood has dripped onto the rug underneath your bed, and you drag your finger through the wet stain. the tip of it comes away tinted. what’s one more ounce of honesty? the presence of death emboldens you despite the fact that you don’t know what’s coming next. your rabid, stray dog. will he eat the food you’ve left for him or knock the bowl over? 

your knees throb when you lift up onto them to heave yourself up fully. you’ll be brave and say it to his face, square your shoulders and stand level with The Shape so he knows you’re telling him the truth. a peace offering before your final blow — the lamp is unplugged again, just like you promised, shrouding the two of you in moonlit darkness. you reach for his knife next, black handle sticky with blood and still protruding from your wall, keeping the blade angled toward your own body when you pull it free so you can present the handle to him like a gift. 

“i would have been louder if i knew you were listening.” 

the silence is electric. his fingers graze yours when he reaches for his blade, his touch cold, the first chill of fall after a grueling summer heat. the knife settles into his hold like it belongs there, and changbin’s gaze flickers to the drying blood pooling in your neckline before he turns toward the door. 

the floorboards creak under his weight, his boots heavy. he leaves you behind in the darkness and doesn’t look back, steps even and calculated as he descends the stairs and out the front door into the night like he was never there, the only sign of his presence being the blood soaking into your floor, the hole in your wall, and your own beguiling cuts and bruises. 

his absence drains you, but it doesn’t discourage you like it did last night. it excites you more than anything now; something tells you this won’t be the last time the boogeyman lets himself into your home. 

rabid or not, you might just tame the dog yet. 

you can’t sleep. 

you’ve tossed and turned for what feels like hours, bedside clock making you huff in annoyance every time you glance over to see another thirty minutes has gone by. 

it’s because of changbin and you know it. it’s been a week since the night you helped him, since he finally heeded your invitation to come inside, but you’ve only seen him outside your bedroom window since, making eyes at him across your property as you do every night in the hopes to entice him again. you ache even more now for him to come back inside, to help himself to the home you saved for him and help himself to you, but he sticks to his own schedule, not yours. 

if you’re honest with yourself, you’re almost upset with him. a look out of your window showed no sign of changbin’s silhouette before bed; you sat at your desk for so long waiting for him that you almost fell asleep right there. and now here you are, restless and agitated without your nightly fix. 

jealousy flares hot in your gut. is there someone else? is hunting more important than seeing you? if that’s the case then he should hunt you instead, kill two birds with one stone — a game of cat and mouse that ends with you cornered and trapped, the tip of his knife digging into your back and his cock digging into your cunt. 

you kick the blanket off of your legs with a heavy sigh and wet panties. always wet, always sticky. your pussy has a mind of its own where changbin is involved, a dripping mess at the mere thought of being watched by him, being taken and kept. your fingers creep to the hem of your underwear without a second thought, dipping under the band and dragging through hair that turns sticky and spiked the closer you get to your center. a shaky sigh then as your legs spread wider and a finger nudges your clit, circling the little bud until it tingles under the attention.

it’s easy to get lost in your own body. you warm up to your touches in no time, spreading yourself with your fingers and arching into the feeling. the elastic of your panties digs into the crease of your thighs when you spread your legs, so it’s an easy decision to kick them off as well. you can move more freely like this, your wrist won’t cramp as badly. an airy sigh keened toward the ceiling, toes curling into the rumpled sheets. nudging the hood of your clit back to feel the shock of your own touch makes you writhe. 

“god.” your voice is ragged. you claw at the tender flesh of your inner thigh, digging desperate fingers into the skin. back arching, nipples hardening under your sleep shirt, you work yourself silly until you’re grinding up into your fingers. slick noises fill your bedroom and heat your cheeks, and you’re just starting to fantasize of a big, muscular body sliding between your spread legs when another noise cuts through the haze. 

your heart lurches in your chest at the first sound of creaking wood. it’s only by the grace of the moonlit sky that you see the door to your bedroom closet cracking open slowly, old wooden slab squealing on its hinges as it opens wider and wider. you hold your breath then, your fingers lock in place where they sit between your thighs. a white mask cuts through the dark inside of your closet, the glint of a knife catches the moonlight and reflects it across the floor. 

with two heavy steps, The Shape is standing fully in your room. his eyes roam the darkness, taking in the four walls of your bedroom before ever landing on your body. his breathing is hard, his chest heaving. he takes another step forward and your fingers twitch between your legs. 

“you came back,” you breathe, breaking the heavy silence that has fallen between the two of you. just how long has he been here? “you came home again.” 

with a hammering heart, you scoot yourself back slightly on your pillow to make more room for him in the bed. changbin doesn’t budge, he stands unmoving in the middle of your room and keeps his eyes locked on you. it’s too dark — you can’t see exactly what he’s looking at, whether he’s looking into your eyes or at how your pebbled nipples peak through your thin shirt. maybe his gaze has fallen to the space your hand is barely covering between your legs. 

how much can you push that wild dog you love so much? how much will he let you take without the consequence of a snarling bite? your honesty from days prior didn’t drive him away like you worried about, it brought him to you again, and bolder this time. death inspires you once more; you can be bold again too. 

you squeeze your legs shut around your hand and angle them toward him. his head tilts at the movement, gaze catching on your bare legs. 

“i missed you.” his head snaps up then. as always, motivated by his eyes on you, your fingers move again, slight enough to keep your noises at bay, but with just enough pressure to feel. not everything is quiet, muted click-click-clicks pierce the air as you circle your fingers slowly, sticky wetness gathered around them while you waited. you sigh then, heavy and needy. “i missed you so much.” 

it’s then that he takes another step forward, another, until he’s standing at the corner of your bed. it’s then too that you spread your legs for him, shivering slightly at the air that hits warm, tacky skin. you bite your bottom lip and watch him watch you, the unnerving tilt of his head and the expressionless face of the mask driving you mad with want. 

his grip on the knife loosens, and he leans slightly to rest it on the bed beside your legs. you’re expecting him to stand there until he’s bored of you; you’re not expecting him to slowly round the corner of your bed and lower himself to your mattress. he sits by your right foot almost primly, his back straight and hands in his lap. your bed squeaks under the added weight, once more when he angles his body toward you and ducks his chin to where your fingers are moving. 

if he wants a show, you’ll give him one. with a barely hidden smile, your fingers speed up on your clit. you haven’t dipped them inside yet, you won’t, you’ll save that for him, save yourself in the hopes that soon enough he’ll deem you worthy enough of what hangs between his legs. 

up and to the side, right on the corner of that swollen little bud is where you like it the most. a good brush of your fingers has your eyes fluttering and your jaw dropping low. your reaction piques his curiosity — changbin cranes his neck forward somewhat and grabs your wrist harshly, three fingers digging into tender flesh and bone. he wrenches your hand away from your cunt and you cry out, the combination of his strong grip and the sudden loss of pleasure making you whine. 

with your legs spread and your hand out of the way, there’s nothing covering your cunt from his calculating eyes. you can see them now that he’s closer, deep brown and pearl white, angled down toward your center. you’re wet for him, you pulse and clench for him, and he sees it all. you’ve never felt as vulnerable as you do now. he’s watched you before, he’s heard you, but not like this. 

“you’re- you’re staring!” you whine. his grip remains firm on your wrist, and his other hand moves to hold you roughly by the thigh as soon as you try to snap your legs closed again. there’s no way you can close them now with him holding you the way he is, but despite your shyness, you don’t think you want to close them when you’ve got him this ensnared. 

your thighs tremble; your hips arch and roll in search of pleasure, desperation sinks bone deep with changbin’s eyes locked on the glistening folds of your achy cunt. it’s all too much — his touch, his attention on your most intimate place. your arm goes lax under his grip around your wrist and you moan. “will you touch me more? please?” 

changbin doesn’t move, three fingers around your wrist and five curled at the pit of your bent knee. he may have you in his clutches, but you still have one unrestricted hand, and it trembles when you lift it from the mattress. you lift your leg too so that you can snake your hand down your body and reach for his, fingertips trailing softly over busted knuckles and rough skin. you moan again at the way death finally yields to you — you’re not expecting him to be receptive to your touch, but he lets you clutch onto his fingers and guide them down to your tender pussy. 

the first touch of his fingertips brings a deep arch to your back. you push your hips into the feeling to chase the friction you crave so much, your own grasp locking around his wrist to keep his hand still for you to use. 

“that- that little bump, do you feel it?” you ask. your chest is heaving unevenly. you know he has to feel it, the pads of his rough digits are pressed right to your buzzing clit. your grip goes to his fingers to guide them in a slow rub over it. “keep touching me there. rub me there and i’ll cum for you again. please, i really want to.” 

you feel the moment changbin gets fed up with your guiding, you can feel as soon as he takes control of the hand you’re holding because yours gets pinned to the mattress. he squeezes your wrist once in warning as if to tell you to keep it there. greedy fingers go right back to your cunt like they never left — he wants to do it himself, learn you on his own terms while you take what he gives. you can tell he’s never done this before, but what he lacks in knowledge he makes up for in deep curiosity, swiping through slick folds and waiting until you react to try something else. 

pinches to our puffy outer lips, a shallow dip into your hole. the friction from his dry fingers makes your toes curl; it has your clit so sensitive, but the longer he touches you the more his fingers slick up with your juices, the more sure he becomes with the motions of his hand. 

changbin returns his focus to your clit with a vigor that gets you squealing. you twitch, and he unhands your wrist to press down on your belly. he doesn’t like the thrashing — it frustrates him — you can tell by the quickened breathing from under the mask and the strength he’s using to hold you down. you’ll listen as long as he keeps touching you the way he is. you’ll be good; changbin is so graciously giving you a gift, doing you a favor, so you’ll be still and take it. 

“baby,” you cry, a slip up that you can’t help. his eyes snap up to yours but go right back down to his hand at your pussy. “changbin, oh, that’s perfect.” 

if you were touching yourself, you’d be at the point where you would be bucking into your own fingers and chasing the heat that’s burning between your legs. it feels deeper this way, concentrated and less frantic, a slow climb to a steep fall. with you forcing your lower body to cooperate with changbin’s wants, your hands grow restless at your sides. they slip your shirt up your trembling body to expose your chest, nipples pebbling once they’re bared to changbin’s gaze and the pale moonlight surrounding him. you squeeze your breasts in your hands, pinch your nipples roughly until your lip wobbles. 

it’s not enough. you want to cry, so overwhelmed by changbin between your legs and rubbing your clit with such insistent fingers. his rhythm changes every time your belly starts to clench, and all he does is tilt his head at your pathetic cries. you’re brushing your hands back down your body when your fingers graze past something that sends a shock through your system. a stab of pain, the sharpness of a stainless steel kiss. 

changbin’s palm rolls over your clit just as you dig shaky fingers into the tender skin around the gash on your side. you remember it like it was yesterday, the first night you truly shared together, the burn of his blade cutting into your side. 

“ohmygod.” you press into the healing wound, feel the ridges of the scab against your fingertips. “oh! oh, that’s- fuck, changbin, i’m cumming, yeah, ‘m gonna- mmm!” 

your head pops up so you can watch him, your eyebrows furrowed and mouth dropped open. changbin’s eyes have fallen to where you’re clawing at the broken skin of your side. does he remember that night as fondly as you do? 

does he finally realize that you’re different? that the icy sting of his knife doesn’t scare you like it does the others he hunts. it doesn’t make you scream in terror or beg for your life. 

it makes you cum. 

changbin makes you cum, pussy fluttering around nothing as your clit pulses and pulses against his calloused palm. his three-fingered hand is still pressing you down by the stomach, so you have no choice but to feel your orgasm fully as it finally bursts under his attention. your thighs shake, your toes curl, and changbin presses his palm to you harder until your knees are knocking at his shoulders. 

but he keeps going. he doesn’t slow down, gives you no time to breathe or come down from your orgasm before he’s chasing you to another one that your body isn’t just yet ready for. 

“s-s-slow,” you try. there’s nowhere to go, not with his hand pressing you down, his strength gives you no room for wriggling out from under his touch. a squeal leaves your lips and you reach both of your hands down to grab onto his one, tugging hard to pull it away from your tender cunt. you don’t give him the time to get frustrated with your sudden act of defiance because you bring his fingers to your mouth before he can, thick and tangy on your tastebuds with your essence. clutching onto his wrist, you suck the wetness from his fingers and take your time memorizing how his fingerprints feel on your tongue. you slip them from your mouth with a pop and lap at the tips. “it gets so sensitive after i cum... i need a little bit of a break until i can go again.” 

you suck two of his fingers back into your mouth with ease, pausing under the second knuckle to look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. you don’t have to pull them into your mouth any further because changbin does it for you instead, pushing his fingertips to the back of your throat and making you gag around them. he’s almost petting your tongue; he curls them slightly so you taste him all the way. 

spit strings the two of you together when he removes them from your mouth. you’re wet down to your chin, and your eyes follow his hand all the way back down to your pussy. 

you did tell him you needed a little bit of time, but you didn’t think he’d be this eager to touch you there again. 

“okay, okay… okay,” you breathe. you sit up on your elbows then to watch. changbin’s eyes stay locked on yours, hand hovering almost tentatively over your center like he’s waiting for your instruction. “gentle, okay? y-yeah. that little bump, remember? ‘s my clit. don’t touch it yet… just… around it. you can- oh, god.” 

wet fingers find your pussy again, skirting around your clit to familiarize himself with everything else he can touch. you’re still twitching and curling in on yourself, so changbin bullies your leg to the side with a three-fingered grip. you’re trying so hard to stay still, but even through sparks of oversensitivity you feel bubbling pleasure. his touch is so much. you’ve ached to feel it for so long. 

changbin dips lower then, all the way to your clenching hole, but his fingers slip back up. he doesn’t know how to touch you there. you’ll have to tell him. 

“put them inside of me.” it’s whimpered this time, voice unsteady as your throat clicks. changbin’s fingers prod at your hole as soon as you give him permission. he slides them in slowly, for his own benefit, not yours, feeling the silky warmth and gummy walls hugging his two digits, a sensation you’re sure he’s never felt before. changbin familiarizes himself with you that way, easing two fingers all the way inside before he stops completely. 

the stretch burns. of course the stretch burns, but it feels okay soon enough. changbin’s fingers feel just okay, and you focus on the way his breathing quickens underneath his mask, the way a voyeur moon highlights the breadth of his shoulders. his fingers feel okay, and then they feel good, so good, a syrupy descent into a different kind of pleasure than he made you feel before. 

but he’s still not moving his fingers; you’re starting to get antsy, speared open and vulnerable with his fingers hooked inside of your cunt. 

“can- can you move them?” you reach down again, and changbin watches your hands find his. in and out, in and out, an easy demonstration and easy enough instructions. your thumb caresses the vein in his wrist as you fuck yourself with his fingers. “just like that. just like that, and. and, curl them? curl them up, baby, when you get all the way inside. that’ll make me feel really good.” 

he fucks you with no rhythm for the first few minutes, something that makes you tug at your own hair to self-regulate when you want to thrash and kick. he’s studying you, studying his own movements because he’s never done anything like this before, but he curls his thick fingers just like you told him to when he plunges them inside. the lack of rhythm doesn’t mean that he’s not making you feel good; the curl of his fingers against your g-spot still sends punches of pleasure down your body and deep into your gut. 

the longer he fingers you, the more he learns what it is that you like. changbin is calculated, his movements firm and finally steady once he realizes that certain things make you moan and whimper and cry. 

your clit begs for attention now that the focus isn’t on it. it’s an indecisive little thing, aching when it’s touched too much but throbbing when it’s not touched at all. changbin is so focused on the way you’re wrapped around his fingers that you don’t think he’ll notice when you slip your own fingers down to rub at that swollen little button, but he snatches your hand away as soon as you try. 

you cry out then, a cry of defeat more than a cry of pain, but he tilts his head at you like you’re the one in the wrong. 

“you can touch it now!” begging, begging, begging. “please, please! changbin, it feels so good, it feels good, i just need- i need-”

you can’t get your thoughts together. you’re starting to tremble again, squirming like you can’t help it, writhing in search of a touch you want so badly. 

there’s a firm hand around your throat and a bulky body above you now. his fingers still spear you open, but the angle is different like this. like this, with him leaning over you, his rough palm rests against your clit like it did earlier. you rut into his touch once and three fingers tighten around your neck. white-hot pain, white-hot pleasure — his thumb digs into his other mark that his knife kissed into your neck nights prior. 

he hasn’t cut off your airflow completely, but you struggle under the weight of his hand. you can feel the pressure building in your head, your eyelids lowering, but most of all, you feel the way he curls his fingers into that special spot you like so much and the rub of his palm against your pulsing clit. over the ragged sound of your own breathing is the loud squelch of your hungry cunt. you’re soaking his hand and the sheets below you without a doubt. 

even through the expressionless mask, changbin looks wild above you. his eyes wide, pupil dilated in his one brown eye. his breathing is just as ragged as yours, and if you listen closely, you can just barely make out the airy little grunts that are muffled behind the latex. 

“good boy,” you praise, voice tight as it claws out from under his hand. “y’re such a good boy, changbin, fuck. fuck, ‘m’nna cum again, gonna make me cum again, baby.” 

your mouth drops open as you do. your body tenses, your cunt clamps down on his fingers to keep them inside. you clutch pitifully at his coveralls and cum silently, robbed of air and so taken by euphoria that you don’t find your voice until you’re nearly done cumming, finally heaving a frantic cry of his name after your toes have started cramping from curling so hard. 

changbin removes his fingers then and lifts them to his face. he turns his hand and watches your juices seep down the digits front to back, mesmerized by the shine and the way you’ve pruned up his fingertips. 

he stands abruptly then. your legs flop uselessly onto the bed, and you watch him pick up his knife again, biting your lip at the glint of steel that shines in the darkness of your bedroom. 

he’s hard in his coveralls. it’s a mouthwatering realization, that his body reacted to yours, that he wants you as badly as you want him, but you know better than to push too much when he’s not the one initiating. 

you know better now — you’ll let it fester under his skin until he comes back to you and takes what he wants. you’ll wait for him. 

The Shape watches you curl onto your side with a sated breath, underwear still kicked to the side and hidden under rumpled sheets, sleep shirt laying askew on your body. you take a look at his glistening fingers and huff a tired laugh through your nose. 

“don’t let it dry up, okay? taste your fingers when you leave so you can remember me.” changbin squares his shoulders and turns around, slow steps retreating to your bedroom door. “i’ll see you soon, changbin.” 

the thud of changbin’s heavy boots lulls you to sleep, a ruinous lullaby as he descends your stairs once again. 

it’s the best sleep you’ve gotten in a week. 

he doesn’t make you wait again, not like the last time. in fact, you haven’t seen changbin outside in days. you come home from work to find him in your house the next night, and the night after that. an interruption in your normal routine doesn’t have to mean something negative. 

you can’t help but think it’s better like this. the sight of him looming across your yard was exciting on its own, but having him inside is different. changbin’s presence inside of your home makes it feel fuller. you’re meant to be there together instead of separate. after all, this was his house before it ever was yours. 

changbin stands so still that you might miss him if you weren’t actively looking for him. 

he’s standing at the window of his sister’s old room, a room you’ve hardly touched after buying the house. it’s dusty and stale, with cobwebs tucked into ceiling corners and windowsills. 

you don’t bother him just yet, deciding to head to your own bedroom to shuck off your work shoes and unclip your bra, only shuffling your way back to his sister’s room after you’ve slipped into something more comfortable. changbin gives you no acknowledgement as you lean against the doorframe, but you know he can see you through the reflection of the window. 

“changbin,” you coo. he lifts his hand to rest his knife on the windowsill. “welcome home.” 

you wonder what it is about the window that calls to him so loudly, what he sees when he stands there. you don’t think he’s looking out into your sleepy little neighborhood or watching the wind snatch the leaves from the trees, no, it’s something deeper than that. something that can keep him rooted in place for hours on end. 

changbin doesn’t react when you pad forward and take the spot next to him. it’s a quiet night; the streetlight flickers at the edge of your property. you can’t see much other than your own reflection and the moon above, and maybe that’s just it. your gaze slips sideways to find changbin’s in the window, his eyes boring straight ahead as if he’s looking deep into his own reflection. 

what does death see when it surveys itself? what does the boogeyman see in his own eyes? an origin, a lost self. you’re not sure if you’ll ever know the answer. but as long as changbin returns home, as long as changbin returns to you, it’s not something you’ll worry yourself with knowing. 

the man himself pulls you out of your own wistful reverie with a three-fingered grip on your hip. when you look up, you find his eyes on you, his head tilted toward yours for the first time that evening. he bullies you with rough hands until you’re standing in front of him, body pressed boldly to the dense width of his. he’s so warm, so sturdy and muscled that it sends an instant pang of arousal down to your belly. there’s something thick and hard prodding at the bottom of your spine when you press yourself to him; a wet gasp leaves your mouth, and changbin’s left hand snaps to your chin to hold you in place. he jostles your head until you’re looking straight forward, looking together at your shared reflection in the window. 

his chest heaves against your back, his breathing muffled by your ear through his mask. you don’t know what changbin looks for in the window but maybe you can help him find it. 

it’s easy to press yourself onto his bulge, just as easy to hold his unwavering eye contact. even if he didn’t have your chin gripped firmly in his hand, you still wouldn’t want to look away. you don’t know what changbin sees when he looks at his reflection, but if there’s one thing you can help him discover, it’s that even destruction deserves something that will persevere in its presence. a soft touch, a supple body that gravitates toward him like a wilting flower bows to the ground. 

changbin ruts forward clumsily. you answer by arching into him and steadying your hands on the windowsill. you can press yourself into him harder that way, angle your hips to give him something sweet to grind against. 

the uneven kick of his hips tells you everything you need to know: you’re the first person he’s done this with. you’re the first person to feel his cock and the first person to ever give his body pleasure. 

changbin’s stare is unwavering. even through the window you feel it, his seeing eye searching your face and his own, shunting your body forward where you stand as his hips work against the globes of your ass and your cotton-soft pants. 

“yes,” you plead. you bite your bottom lip, suck the drool threatening to spill from it back into your mouth. you feel the muscles tensing in his arm when you grab onto it to steady yourself once more, fingers clutching onto his navy coveralls like a tether. “oh. god, yes, fuck me like that.” 

even over your clothes it’s good, his rocky movements aside, the fat tent of his cock feels mind numbing when it mashes up against your clit. the growing wetness between your legs clings the loose cotton tight to your cunt. your back bows again, you tilt your hips. like this the pressure is just right, like this you could cum, the constant, repeated stimulation to your buzzing clit along with the friction from your pants. 

your leg is starting to shake. changbin braces himself behind you, drags the toe of his heavy boot under your foot so it doesn’t thump against the floor and send you off balance. his right arm wraps around your waist as the other stays snug in your grasp, your chin held just as snugly in his warm hand. you’re caged like this, curled over protectively, blanketed by a body that’s stronger than yours and held in place to be dry fucked until your eyes roll in your head. 

“you make me feel so good, y’re so perfect to me. are you gonna watch? y’re gonna… make me cum for you again.” your mouth hardly moves, words muffled by the three fingers cupping your chin. you squeeze his wrist. changbin’s eyes haven’t moved despite the frantic kick of his hips, locked on your glassy, pleasure-stricken visage. his breath comes quickly, muffled under his mask but no less animal, shaky and uneven as he takes his own pleasure from your willing body. 

changbin’s errant thrusts turn into a dirty, deep grind. the bow of your back is so pronounced that it hurts, but it only spurs you on, pushes you that much further to your peak. 

the moment his clothed cock grinds into your clit, you’re cumming with a cry of his name. changbin holds you still and in place because that’s how he likes you, arms clutching your body hard as you slump forward on shaky legs. 

he slows down then. you don’t know why until it hits you that he must remember your words from the night before, how you get sensitive after you cum, how you have to wait a few minutes, and god, if you didn’t ache for him before. 

you turn around in his burly embrace, all wobbling knees and clenching stomach, your shaky arms lifting until they’re wrapped around his shoulders. only then do his eyes lower from the window, only then does he look into your eyes without a reflective barrier. your nose brushes the nose of the mask, your own eyes flutter and raise to look into his. the matted hair of the mask is rough under the tips of your fingers. 

he smells of latex and musk when you lean in to press your lips to the mask. it’s only a semblance of a kiss — there’s no give of parted lips or the slick heat of tongue, but your heart still hammers in your chest over it. your arms wind tighter around his shoulders and curl over his neck. you deepen the kiss as best you can, part your lips and dart your tongue to taste what he’s allowing you to taste. you pull away with a smack and press your forehead to his chin, then your nose to his latex cheek. your fingers fumble with the collar of his coveralls. 

“i want to make you feel good now,” you breathe. changbin stiffens when you wrap your fingers around the zipper, but he doesn’t snatch your hand away. he doesn’t reach for his knife sitting only inches from you. “can i take it off? can i kiss you more? please. please, changbin, baby, please.” 

you lift your head then to watch his eyes. his hackles lower at the eye contact, his shoulders loosen, and that’s as good of an answer as any. 

the sound of the zipper cuts through the sound of your shared heavy breathing. you pull it slowly so it doesn’t spook him, opening the torso of his coveralls to show a white singlet underneath. 

he smells stronger like this. changbin’s musk fills your nose and you moan quietly, tugging at the collar to bare his shoulders for you to see. you knew he was muscular, but seeing him like this… he’s mouthwatering. his deltoids are firm and bulging, what little of his biceps you can see look the same. he’s surprisingly sunkissed and has scars littered around his skin. his cock is still hard where it nudges your hip, and it kicks at the first press of your lips to his shoulder. 

changbin’s skin is so warm; it’s so soft under the clothes he wears. no wonder his scars refuse to leave him. a bruised, ripe fruit, supple under your greedy lips. if this is damnation so be it. he’s the serpent, the apple, and the garden all in one. 

the first taste of him on your tongue almost sends you to your knees. it’s different from sucking on his fingers, more intimate even. you kiss the skin deeply, parting your lips and laving your tongue along the ridge of muscle just to repeat with the other side. his chest comes after that, the singlet dipping low to show the twin bulges of his pecs and the valley between them. your tongue catches on cotton when you lick up the valley and all the way to the neck of the mask, desperate to taste any part of him you can.  

your lips follow the descent of his coveralls. every inch of skin that reveals itself to you is greeted with a kiss, and when you pull away from him to drop down to your knees, changbin’s hand curls frantically in your hair and yanks you back into him like he’s afraid you’re going to leave. despite the ache in your scalp and the sting of tears in your eyes… you coo. he’s sweet, learning to be greedy for your touch just like you are for his. 

you nuzzle your chin and cheeks into the fabric of his singlet, his belly taut and heaving. “i’m right here. i’m here, ‘m not going anywhere.” 

changbin’s grip eases in your hair only slightly, but it gives you enough leeway to slowly lower yourself onto your still-bruised knees. the waistline lightly cinches his waist, navy sleeves drop and sway at his knees when you pull his arms from them. you can hear changbin’s unsteady breathing through the mask, and you swear it stops completely when you drag the zipper over the tent of his cock, his boxers visibly soaked through where he bulges the cotton. 

the legs of his coveralls fall to his boots with a fwump, leaving toned thighs and tanned legs on display. 

your lashes flutter. you trail your eyes up his body and all the way to his eyes, making sure to look into them as you lean forward to nuzzle him again, this time caressing his cock with the softness of your cheek. an airy moan leaves your lips at the first touch to him. he’s boiling hot under the cotton of his worn boxers, precum seeps through the fabric and cools your cheek where you rub him. with your eyes locked on his, you slip your fingers under the elastic band and pull them down enough to bare his pubic mound. you kiss that too, openmouthed and hot, lips sticking to his sweaty skin even as you pull his boxers down further. down over his hips, down over his cock until it springs up like a weapon to bump your chin. 

his underwear pools on top of his bunched coveralls, and you finally lean back on your haunches to see him in all his glory. 

he’s gorgeous like this, beaten and bruised and strong, his aura still intense even as he stands over you with his pants around his ankles and his cock throbbing wetly. he’s dark and thick between the legs with a sweet pink tint at the head, and it bobs in the air like it’s happy to see you, his sac hanging heavy and full enough to make your mouth water. 

“baby,” you breathe. “baby.” 

he’s bitter when you taste him, tongue lolling out of your mouth to drag up his base and all the way to his leaking tip. his hand twitches in your hair and you sink down on him. with his fingers tangled in your hair, you can hardly bob your head, but all that does is make the desperation simmering in your belly bubble over, rocking your hips into nothing and whining around the head of his cock. you hollow your cheeks to suck him in, bat your tongue against the underside. 

you smooth your hands up and down his thighs before wrapping your thumb and forefinger around the base to hold him closer to you, jutting your chin to take him further into your mouth. he’s so thick that he stretches the corners and brings a satisfying ache to your jaw. 

changbin realizes soon enough that he can use his hold on your hair to aid you, so that’s exactly what he does. with your hair in a fist, changbin pulls you off of him until you’re puckering your lips against his weeping head. he likes it; he tilts his hips and bumps his cock higher where it nudges your nose, your lips kissing the crown and down the base just in time for him to push you back down. changbin’s hips twitch in aborted movements like he can’t stand still with your throat hugging him tight and your tongue caressing his underside. spit bubbles past your stretched lips soon enough, coating your chin and slicking his cock. the noise is sinful, your cunt throbs, and changbin’s thighs are tensing under your fingers. 

it doesn’t take him long to cum, not when it’s the first time he’s ever had a mouth on him. he bucks his hips unevenly until you’re gagging, eyes watering as they look up at him. changbin’s cum is sharp and bitter. you hold it on your tongue to savor it for just a moment longer, slowly blinking your clumped lashes when you open your mouth to show his cum cupped in the cradle of your tongue. he watches you swallow it with wide eyes. 

one lone tear trickles down your face as you swallow, and changbin removes his hand from your tangled hair to hover it awkwardly over your face. fingertips finally touch your cheekbone, and you close your eyes at the shockingly tender touch. his thumb traces the tear track down your face and he presses it into the salty bead, his own special way of wiping away your tears. 

he’s sturdy under your hands when you brace yourself against him to stand. changbin lets you pull his clothes back up and zip his coveralls again, tilting his head when you place one last kiss on his chest before zipping it all the way up. you lean into him then, resting your head on his chest for only a moment. the beat of his heart — faint, so faint you can hardly hear it, but just barely noticeable if you listen as closely as you are. others might say he doesn’t have one at all, but how could you agree when it thrums against your ear? 

“are you leaving?” you ask. your head lifts from his chest to find him staring once again into the window before you, searching for answers you hope he’s one step closer to finding. 

changbin doesn’t move; he doesn’t head down your stairs and out the front door into the night like he typically does after a tryst with you. you leave him there with one last kiss to the latex cheek of his mask, feet slowly retreating from his sister’s room and down the hall to your own bedroom. 

something tells you he won’t be leaving anytime soon, but you hope that you’ll see him again before you close your eyes for the night. 

you find changbin somewhere in your house more often than you don’t now, another pleasant change in your months-long routine. 

it helps that half the time he spends in your space is spent being naked together, learning each other. it’s new and exciting; changbin likes it. he likes the give of your body and the way you say his name. he doesn’t have to tell you that for you to know because it’s in the way he watches you, the way his body reacts and his hands roam. 

the stray dog you wanted so badly stands collared and on guard, a protector of you and your house rather than a threat now. 

changbin finds you this time, a replica of another from years past, sitting at the vanity in your room and brushing your hair before turning in for the night. you watch him walk to you through the mirror, your back turned to him. 

“hello handsome,” you smile. 

the hand that usually curls around the handle of a knife curls around something smaller now, something you can’t see between his bloody fingers or the tightness of his fist. you wait patiently as he raises his hand slowly. it pauses by your head for a moment before he opens his fingers wide, and the item clatters down onto your vanity and spins, slowing and slowing until it clinks in place and finally stills. 

the ring is dainty and gold and bloody, though you’re not sure if the blood is from changbin’s hand or the one he must have taken it off of earlier. 

“oh!” you gasp. you reach for the ring without a care, smearing the blood onto your fingertips in the process. “changbin, for me? oh, baby, it’s beautiful.” it slips onto your ring finger like it was meant to be there. you hold it away from your face to see the bloody glint, wiggling your fingers and extending your arm. 

changbin stands behind you quietly. he raises his hand again to press his palm to the top of your head, his own version of an affectionate, tender caress. drying blood smears onto your hair, but you smile at the touch regardless. 

“take a shower with me.” changbin’s hand drops from your head as you stand up from your vanity, sliding your hands up his chest to grip at the collar of his coveralls. “take a shower with me and come to bed after.” 

it doesn’t take much convincing for him. it never does anymore; changbin is shockingly, beautifully obedient when you’re the one giving the orders. 

changbin’s heavy boots follow you down the hallway to the bathroom, and you strip him bare after stripping yourself, leaving the mask alone at the airy grunt he gives you when you touch the neck of it. 

you barely have time to dry yourself off when you’re done, not when changbin snatches the towel away from you with a glower and grabs greedy fingers at your hips, nosing at your neck to appease the way you click your tongue at him. changbin doesn’t even attempt to dry himself off, settling instead on walking you to your room with arms around your waist and eight fingers squeezing the skin. 

he tosses you on the bed and you giggle when you bounce, rolling over onto your back and spreading your legs so you can see him stand between them. his cock is hard with arousal already, your pussy not far behind. it never is when it comes to changbin, aching something deep at the sight of him in front of you and slicking up as you watch him watch you. 

you bite your lip and lean back onto your elbows. you then reach between your legs but changbin beats you there, pressing the fingers on his right hand to your slit while his left hand brackets beside your head. he leans over you like this, his beautiful body on display just as much as yours is, apart from one thing. 

you whine, your eyebrows furrow. changbin responds to your distress with his own, pressing his rubber mask to your neck and kissing. you can’t feel his lips, but you can hear the sound of them smacking, your sweet boy. you run your fingers through the matted hair and wish it was curly and black instead. 

changbin has given you more than enough — changbin has given you himself in ways he’s never given to anyone before, he’s trusted you more than he’s trusted anyone else, but it hurts. his mask is beautiful in its own ways, worn and dirty and battered, an extension of himself, but you want to see what’s underneath. you want to see his face and kiss his lips, you want to cup his cheeks and trace his scars with your fingertips. you want to see more than a mugshot and a blurry patient id photo. 

“baby,” you cry. changbin’s hand is a flurry between your legs, rubbing so intently that you can’t help but buck into him. “baby, sweetheart, i want to kiss you, please. please, can- can i see you?”

he groans then, twitches something violent in your hold. the hand beside your head slams down onto the mattress with a force you haven’t seen in weeks. it scares you, even if only for a split second, but that flash of fear is gone as soon as it came. changbin trusts you too much to ever hurt you again, but the lamp on your nightstand doesn’t hold the same reverence as it goes crashing to the floor, a swing from his muscular arm sending it careening over the edge. 

you’re clutching onto both sides of the mask before changbin can send something else flying or knock another hole in your wall, looking into his wild eyes with your own, apology after apology leaving your spit-slick lips. 

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, baby, i’m so sorry. you don’t have to, you don’t ever have to, oka-”

he interrupts you with a noise so animal that it surprises you. changbin wrenches his hand from between your legs and brings it to the mask, clutching the matted hair in his straining fingers. it’s off his head and tossed to the floor before you can blink, before you can even think, and the first thing you notice with the help of the moonlight is just how pink his lips are. 

you wonder if he feels how you felt all those weeks ago, the first time he opened your legs to stare at the most private place on your body. does he feel like that now? that shyness, that intimate exposure. showing you what’s underneath his mask must be infinitely more vulnerable than anything below his belt could be. 

changbin’s eyes are wide and searching when you pull him down to rest his forehead against yours. you cup his cheeks just like you wanted, your thumb brushes against the scar running through his milky eye. 

“oh, my baby,” you whisper. changbin’s throat clicks, and he meets you in the middle for a kiss he doesn’t know how to reciprocate. you’ll teach him that too, like you’ve taught everything else, a meshing of lips and tongue and teeth that you can perfect together. his breath is stale but his plump lips are soft, so soft that it makes you whimper into the kiss. it’s a sound changbin replicates on his own with an unconscious tilt of his head, and his hand travels back between your legs again to feel you even wetter than you were before. he brushes your clit before curling two fingers to dip inside where you’re pulsing for him. 

changbin fucks you on his fingers until you’re writhing, only held down by a three-fingered hand when you move too much for his liking all while licking into your mouth with a fervor you’ve never experienced from anyone else before. 

you turn your head to the side to catch your breath, but that doesn’t deter changbin at all. he kisses down your neck to mouth at your breasts, sucking a pebbled nipple between his lips and batting at it with an inexperienced tongue. it takes you off guard and you jolt, your fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck to keep you grounded. you wonder if he’s seen this before, watching couples from the shadows before he butchers them, or if changbin’s own greed has driven him to something instinctual, the innate knowledge that this is a place his lips should go. you arch into his mouth, and he seals them around the tight bud to suck it. 

you’re expecting the same attention to your other nipple; you’re not expecting his lips to trail down your stomach. changbin drops to his knees on the floor and yanks you closer to him, so close to the edge of the bed that your ass nearly hangs off the mattress. 

the first swipe of tongue to your pulsing slit is so slick that you hardly feel it. you sit up frantically on your elbows to watch him, just in time to see him suck his tongue back between his lips to swallow the first taste of you. your eyes roll, your hands reach for him. changbin leans in again and drags his tongue up the seam of your cunt, the lack of coordination just another turn on in the pool of a million others, his inexperience something you can mold into experience the more you touch each other. 

what changbin lacks in practice he makes up for in vigor. he knows your favorite spot, flicks a sloppy tongue against your clit and smacks his lips against it to get a feel of it with his mouth instead of his fingers. you know better than to rock against his face — you’ll take what he gives as he tries something new, you’ll be good and still. 

your fingers crawl over his broad shoulders and latch onto the skin. “baby. oh, fuck, you like the way it tastes?” 

you wonder if he’s seen this too, or if his eagerness to get his face between your legs stems from you and you alone. 

taste your fingers when you leave so you can remember me, you had said. did he leave that night and suck his fingers between his lips like you asked? did it make him hungry for your taste, desperate to drink it straight from the source? changbin is a good boy. the answers to your questions are nothing but obvious. 

changbin groans his answer into you anyway, a shocking vibration that makes your legs twitch on either side of him. he sucks hard again and buries his nose in your pubic hair, eyes flitting up to you intently as your fingers tighten their hold on his shoulders. all that does is spur him on. with your nails digging into the skin of those shoulders, changbin eats until you’re shaking, sticky and wet all the way from his round nose to his scarred chin. 

he presses into you deeper, opens his mouth against your hole and swipes over it repeatedly with an obscenely sloppy tongue that gets you panting. his nose nudges your clit then, and your hips start buzzing before you can stop them. 

“please,” you beg. changbin’s loyal tongue drags back up to its favorite place. he juts his chin back and forth slightly so he can feel the bump of your clit rubbing under his tongue, and he keeps his attention focused there while you whimper and plead for him. “please, please- please, there, there, i’ll cum.” 

changbin likes it when you do that. he likes that word, likes that he can make you do it. 

your breasts jump on your chest as you shiver and shake, and you lift onto your elbows again to watch him taste you. changbin’s already looking at you, his eyes locked on yours from between your trembling legs. the point of his tongue catches on the hood of your clit; your legs snap around his shoulders. he doesn’t fight it this time — the unconscious jut of your hips he takes in stride. you rabbit them against his face and changbin only grunts, trailing his hands down the backs of your thighs to feel them as they flex. 

you cum on his tongue with a pitiful cry of his name. your body locks up tight as you cum and relaxes as changbin licks you through it. he’s only used to playing with his hands, but he knows to be soft with you this way too, his tongue going slack where you roll and shiver against his face, softening from a point and letting you coax yourself through your climax with his help.

changbin stands as soon as you’re done. you blink up at the ceiling and then back down at him, body taut and sternum heaving. his cock throbs and spits precum from the tip.  

“come here.” you crawl back up the bed and rest your head on your pillows. he kneels on the mattress immediately, crawling between your legs once more and blanketing his body with yours when you reach for him. 

his hips rut down like he just can’t help himself when he’s this close to you; your own hips following in search of his tip, aching to be filled and aching for him. 

changbin’s breath stutters against your lips. you crane your neck to kiss him again, sucking his tongue into your mouth with a hum. his fingers twitch at your shoulders, his hips rock into yours in a semblance of the way he wants to fuck you. 

“be a good boy,” you breathe. changbin quivers above you. you reach your hand between your sticky bodies to find his ruddy cock. it’s hard and hot at your fingertips, wet with how much he wants you. you press him to the give of your hole and wait for changbin to push himself inside. “sweet boy… you want to fuck me, don’t you?”  

he thrusts forward then and buries himself inside. changbin coos something brittle against your neck, his soft hair tickles your cheek, and you tilt your head down to press your lips to any part of him you can reach. he’s just as overwhelmed as you are, still not used to something so hot and tight being wrapped around him or the tender way you touch him. 

it takes a few moments with the twitching of changbin’s hips to grow accustomed to his size. he’s thick enough to stretch you out, thick enough to burn if you’re not prepared for him, but he braces himself onto his knees when you finally whisper in his ear that you’re ready for him to move. 

he always starts off rocky. the sweet grip of your cunt is on the far side of just too much. changbin seo has always been a man of little words, but you know that this is a feeling that is indescribable for him. it’s just as indescribable for you. his back bows and curls, his legs scramble, but nothing stops the bump of his hips into yours or the way he hides his noises into your supple skin. 

you can tell the moment changbin gets his bearings straight. he pulls away to sit on his haunches between your legs, gripping you by the waist to pull you down onto his cock as he thrusts forward. his eyes are wild, his one pupil blown wide as he looks down at your pliant body. your legs are spread around him, your hair a mess, your tits jiggling. your room is completely shrouded in darkness, moonlight eclipsed by his broad body. changbin’s eyes are made for the dark, but yours are not. you know without a doubt that changbin can see you clearly even though his own features are hard for your eyes to discern in such darkness. 

his arms bulge lewdly and he ruts into you faster, jackrabbiting his hips and nearly shunting you up the bed. your fingers push at his stomach — he’s deep, deep and safe and you’d rather die than never feel this again. the glint of the ring he gifted you shines against tan skin and moonlight. 

“yeah, is that nice? ‘s my pussy nice?” 

changbin’s eyes fall there, to where he spears you open and fucks you messy. he groans while he watches, his voice bouncing with the rhythm of his thrusts. you clench down on his cock to hear his voice again. beautifully deep, raspy with unuse. 

your pussy clings to him every time his hips pull back, hungry and greedy, a sleazy attempt to keep him deep inside. yet changbin’s thrusts turn sharper the more he fucks you pliant, they turn longer, a rhythm so suddenly mind-melding that you don’t know how it’s coming from him, your sweet, eager boy, always so overly excited to fuck you that he can’t control the bucking of his hips. 

changbin’s focus hones as your silky, swollen cunt milks him tighter, but you watch that control break almost as soon as it came, like he can’t hold himself at bay anymore. the slap of skin is deafening; changbin gives it to you desperately, his hips hammering and cock pistoning until your eyes roll and squeeze shut. changbin whines. he whines again, three fingers touch the side of your face and trail over your eyebrow, a shocking juxtaposition to the wild way he fucks you. he doesn’t speak, but you know what he’s saying regardless. 

open your eyes and look at me. 

there are tears in your eyes when you do open them, and changbin’s eyebrows crease on his forehead. 

“it feels so good,” you clarify, voice tight and high in your throat. changbin falls into you on his own, knocking his forehead with yours so he can watch you closer. “it feels so good, sweetheart. you were- you were made for me, weren’t you? just for me. my good boy was made for me.” 

changbin’s fat cock slams deep, and his hips quake. he’s so close to cumming — you can feel it in the way he holds himself above you, tense and flexed. 

“make me cum again,” you breathe. changbin presses his lips to yours and swallows your gasp when he slips his fingers between your bodies and down to your center. he feels over the place where he fucks you messy, nudges the edge of your hole and his pistoning cock with eager fingers before they drag to your clit. you reach down to help him then. he needs it, no matter how much it frustrates him to. you use his fingers to touch yourself with, pressing on his fingers so that they mash against your throbbing clit. 

it won’t take much to cum, not with how he’s fucking you, not with his weight pushing you into the bed. it’s a dream come true, to have him this way, and he’s better than you could have ever imagined. 

you clench around him hard before you cum; your pussy clenches like it was made to keep him, and you squeeze his wrist hard when that rope finally snaps, when that fire makes its way down your body and pulses through your hungry, greedy cunt. 

changbin turns frantic. he groans into your neck. he wants to cum, but he knows you’re sensitive now. 

“it’s okay,” you say. those two words seem to always calm him down when they come from you. “it’s okay, it’s okay, you can cum. i love you, cum inside me, please, good boy, good b- yes!” 

you hold him close as he follows behind, mouthing sloppily at your neck to stifle his own noises and twitching through his orgasm. changbin’s breath is ragged and hot against your skin after such strenuous activity, his chest is sticky and heaving where it presses to yours. only when his breathing slows does he remove his face from the safe confines of your neck. his curly, black hair is sweaty and matted as it presses to your forehead once more, his eyes locked on yours. changbin lifts his hand to trace the swell of your cheek with his finger, soft and slow and sweet. 

a dog barks from across the neighborhood; yours curls into your chest, sharp teeth tucked away with its tongue lolling out of its mouth.

changbin’s knife gleams on your nightstand the same way the ring on your finger does. 

it’s a quiet night. curdling screams don’t echo their way across haddonfield the way they usually do. changbin sighs, his body lax atop of yours, and a cricket chirps its song outside your window. death knocks on no one’s door tonight. 

The Shape is nowhere to be found, but changbin is right here with you. 

[cbini]

emsie wemsie!! your ask about summerween had me go back to the chan ghostface asked a while ago but i couldn’t help but notice you mentioning binmicheal myers in the tags and it’s given me thoughts

could i mayhaps pick your brain and hear your thoughts or hcs about him? :] i remember you mentioned him once or twice on here

this ask - a good game of hide and seek is one of his favorite types of foreplay <3 he’ll even give you a head start, will stand unmoving in your kitchen and listen to the creaking floorboards and the purposefully quiet padding of your feet upstairs as you try to figure out somewhere he won’t find you. well, spoiler alert… he always finds you. he’s got a real knack for it, and no matter how slow he walks, he always manages to catch you even if you run from him (especially if you run from him). there’s no need to rush anyways, but changbin knows your heart starts to pound and your breath quickens at the slow thud of his heavy boots on the floor. he knows it makes you wetter too.

he’s mute but still relatively loud in bed. it didn’t start off that way, the first several times you were any form of intimate together, he was dead silent minus his heavy breathing through his mask. it made you want to work for it more, you’d rut yourself silly on his thigh or whimper his name while he fingered you in the hopes that he’d just crack. the resilience of that man lol… it doesn’t go anywhere until he really begins to trust you. when you prove to him that you’re not like other people and that he’s safe with you, that’s when he finally allows himself to let loose a little bit. grunts and groans are what you hear mostly, always that heavy slow breathing, but oh on occasion you get a delicious little whimper. that always embarrasses him though so you have to ignore it… unless you want him to get frustrated with himself and take it out on your wall.

big fan of fucking you at the window. The Window from his sister’s old room where his infamous story started for him, the one you always find him standing in front of. it’s not to show you off and he doesn’t have an exhibitionist streak at all, it’s just because he wants to see your shared reflection in the glass. mirrors don’t have the same effect to him… fucking in front of a mirror is fine, he’ll do it, but he would rather take you in front of the window. that’s his spot, but he’ll share it with you like that. will hold your hands behind your back so your fingerprints don’t smudge the glass and gets all grunty if you look away or close your eyes.

[seo--changbin]

God bless the small writing accounts, god bless the fics that only get 50 notes, god bless the writers with a simple navigation pinned to their profile, god bless the writers who have 50 wips in their drafts and still not being able to finish a single one, god bless the writers who's first language isn't english, god bless the writers who always has typos in their fics, god bless the writers that stay up all night cramming to finish a fic god bless the writers that can only make 1k worded fics, god bless the writers who write in 1st pov, god bless the writers who still write even when they know their grammar is crap, god bless the writers who had just started writing, god bless the writers who get minimal interactions, god bless the writers who only has their phones to write their fics, god bless the writers who do their extensive research on a topic to use in their fics, god bless the writers who stopped writing, god bless the writers who are human

[hyunpic]

weeee look at him go… so cutieful

[sunboki]

When The Light Fades : moodboard

— FIC TEASER 💽 ( releasing late october )

The town of Briar is tightly knit. Houses that multiple generations have lived within, a school with rickety fences, vines climbing up the windows, chalkboards still in use. To most, Briar was the epitome of boredom. Though, between you are your best friend, Chris, you know a different story. Because while many towns have their fair share of pest control against insects, it takes a special person—persons—to hunt down Briar’s own kind of pests: the Supernatural.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[minsung-archived]

HAN — truman @ dominATE : celebrATE 251018 (©Lunatikkk_)

[streetlvght]

so has anyone uh. has anyone else seen the clips from the concert because i’m having a very normal reaction a very normal human would have

[cbini]

havent been able to stop thinking about bin and his sexy sports car, with the sweet smell of new leather and music pumping through the speakers

reclining the passenger seat and squeezing in on top of his solid body OHHHHH… him driving one handed resting the other on your thigh across the centre console MY PEANITS !!!!!!

bjs in the lambo anyone?? please?? please??

🏷️: oral (m!rec), unprotected sex in a car, exhibitionism (not really but like just in case), tiny tease of degradation, kissing, clothed sex, ems’ bad attempts at humor <3

a/n: thank you @seolarenergy 😁 for sending this in so mama could write a lamborghini sex drabble lol… i haven’t written a bin drabble since MARCH and needed to change that asap

“would you stop?”

“stop what?”

“that, stop that! you’re-”

changbin doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t really have to. he tuts his tongue when you reach over the center to rest your hand on his thigh for the nth time that afternoon, your fingers curling over the muscle as he nudges his blinker on. he plucks it up and moves it back to the center console, entwining his stocky fingers with yours as if that’ll keep you in place. 

you turn your head toward him and glare at him through your lashes. 

“i can’t put my hand right there?” you lift your tangled hands and gesture to his thigh with them. 

“you can’t!” he fusses. it’s his turn to gesture with your entwined hands, tossing them in the air to get his own point across and then using them to push his glasses up his round nose. “not when you’re- no.”  

“not when i’m what?! finish your sentences!” 

he hollers, silly and unserious and loud enough to almost cover the roar of the engine if only for a moment. 

“you’re trying to seduce me! i’m trying to follow the laws of the road and you’re trying to seduce me! i’m carrying precious cargo, yeobo, you can’t distract me.” 

he pulls his hand away from yours to wag a chiding finger at you. it’s as natural as it can be, the way his hand immediately goes for your thigh when he’s finished. his thick fingers curl over the tender inside, thumb caressing the sensitive skin absentmindedly. he’s so focused on the road that you’re almost certain he doesn’t even realize he’s done it. 

“so you can touch mine but i can’t touch yours?” you ask incredulously. you cross your legs to trap him between them. 

“huh? oh.” changbin does a double take. his fingers wriggle under the weight of your crossed legs, and he grins smugly. “yes, that’s right.” 

“that’s really stupid.” with his hand not keeping yours at bay for the time being, you reach for him again, tucking your own fingers under the wide leg of his shorts to feel his skin. he’s warm. he always is, skin warm and soft to the touch, plush and squishy where it’s pressed to the seat. changbin lets you have your way for a moment, your ever indulgent sweetheart, but he ultimately picks your hand up again and brings it to his mouth this time, pecking slow kisses over your knuckles. 

he’s quieter when he speaks up again; there’s a secretive little smile tugging at the corner of his pink lips that he presses to the back of your hand. 

“you can’t put your hand there or else i’ll… get, ah. excited.”  

you snort loudly, and changbin petulantly blows a wet raspberry onto the back of your hand before pushing it back into your own lap with a loud cry. he places both of his hands firmly on the steering wheel at ten and two. that doesn’t last for long though, not when you turn your body toward him and he uses his right hand like a shield for his face so you can’t see him. 

“you’re a pervert!”

“did you want me to lie?!” changbin booms. it turns into a laugh at the end. 

getting him excited wasn’t the idea, but it’s certainly not a bad one. there’s a long stretch of road ahead and a good while until you reach the vacation house the seo family booked for a quick, last minute getaway. changbin’s favorite r&b playlist is crooning through the speakers of his sports car, and suddenly you can think of at least one thing that’s more fun than a riveting game of i spy. 

he’s gone quiet. you look at him again without the playfulness from moments before. his head is nodding to the beat, pretty lips mouthing the words from some song you don’t care to know the name of. every now and then his fingers tap the beat against the steering wheel, and it’s not until his other hand finds your thigh absentmindedly again that you decide to break the silence. 

“changbin.” he hums but keeps his eyes on the road. “changbin. pull over.” 

“hm? oh, do you have to pee?” 

you thunk your head against the headrest and roll your head to the side to glare at him again. your glare turns soft around the corners the longer he goes without looking at you, so soft that it can no longer be considered a glare, eyes only saccharine and moony when they’re directed at changbin. he’s so fucking handsome. his car is so nice. 

“changbinnie,” you coo, and that gets his attention all over again. he takes his foot off the gas and looks at you then, furrowing his brows once at your expression. “baby, pull the car over.” 

he does it without question, easing his foot down onto the brake petal and veering off onto the empty shoulder of the road. he turns his hazard lights on after he puts the car in park, and you press your lips together. changbin can be so competent when he needs to be. 

“what’s wrong?” 

you shake your head and unbuckle your seatbelt. he raises his eyebrows at the sound of you removing your shoes. 

“nothing’s wrong. ‘m gonna suck you off now, baby.” 

changbin visibly blanks and then starts up again like a computer, wide eyes blinking rapidly as his lower lip pouts. he looks out the window and then down at his lap, and then over to you with a bobbling nod. 

“you- ah. here?! right now? i- okay.” 

he unbuckles his seat belt and bites his bottom lip when you lean over the center console right away. you have to pull his athletic shorts down a little to take his cock out, and changbin lifts his hips to help. he’s not hard yet, though he’s chubbing up already at the prospect of having your mouth. it’s easy enough to get him there when you know just how to press his buttons: a kiss to his mushroom tip, a slow trail down to his sac. he groans then, the corner of his lips tick. changbin snakes his hand onto the nape of your neck and caresses under your ear with his thumb. 

“your mouth is so sweet,” he murmurs. you suck him down your throat and he moans, throwing his head back against the seat. he looks back down at you quickly, like he can’t go long without having his eyes on you. changbin’s cock hardens in your mouth under the attentive batting of your tongue and suction of your lips, wetting his slit with precum that you lap up as soon as it beads. 

it’s not the most comfortable position to be in, but you bear it for the sake of taking his cock down your throat. your body is leaned uncomfortably over the center console, balancing on your knees and braced by your elbows. he must be able to tell how uncomfortable you are because he throws his arm over your back and helps ease you closer, using his strength to shift you while your mouth is occupied. his other hand cards through your hair to keep it out of your eyes. 

you hum around his tip and he hums back weakly. changbin’s noises always spur you on; you’re always eager to pull more from that plump little mouth, and changbin is just as eager to give them to you. his sweet sounds make your cunt throb in the confines of your shorts — you’d rub your thighs together for some relief if only you could. 

“fuck.” it’s grit through pearly teeth. “fuck. fuck, gorgeous, please.” 

his hips raise to chase the warmth of your mouth, rolling forward just as you bob your head down to cram as much of his short, thick length into your mouth as he can. he bulges your cheeks, stretches the corners of your lips. almost like he’s forgotten where you are, he looks frantically to the windshield and through his driver’s side window and back down to you, cheeks and ears tinted strawberry pink. 

you pull off of him with a slick pop. changbin wipes the spit from your chin with a calloused thumb. 

“are you scared someone will see us, baby?” you ask. you raise into your knees and lean up for a kiss that he readily reciprocates, licking his own taste from your mouth with an eager tongue and soft lips. your kisses trail from his lips to his cheek, all the way over to a burning ear. you kiss that too, trap the lobe between your teeth before you speak. “don’t worry. you’re too small down there for anyone to see anyways.” 

“yah!” changbin clicks his tongue, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from fluttering. it doesn’t stop his cock from twitching either. “tch. not- not that, not here! god. god, yeobo, beautiful… can you take your shorts off?” 

you giggle then, leaning further into his space to kiss down his neck while trying to ease your shorts down at the same time. as soon as you kick them from your ankles, changbin is wrenching you over the center console and right into his lap. 

you still hit your head on the roof with a thud — changbin hisses through his teeth right when you do, and he’s cradling your head to his chest with soothing hands. 

“can i still get on this ride if i have a concussion?” your voice is muffled by his pecs. changbin thumps the back of your head and laughs. 

“ahh, my sweetie’s head is too hard for that to give you a concussion. you might have dented the roo- ow, hey, stop biting me!”  

he swats at your ass and your teeth let go of his pec. 

your glower might carry more weight if your panties weren’t soaked at the gusset. changbin’s smile is sweet and sated, like just having you in his lap and in his arms is enough. 

the scent of your shared arousal mixes with the smell of new leather and the vanilla air freshener he’s hung from the rear view mirror. he’s still smiling when he leans in to steal a kiss from your lips, kissing the pout from your mouth and easing the glower away when your eyes drift shut. 

the hand that isn’t pressed to your spine sinks between your bodies to nudge at the hem of your panties. his tongue glides smoothly against yours, but his breath turns ragged at the first brush to your sex, his fingertips dipping into the wetness between your legs. 

“mm. you’re wet,” he grins against your lips. “who made you this wet?”

you could tease. you could lie and play coy all you want, but your body doesn’t lie; it can’t when it comes to changbin. 

“changbin made me wet,” you breathe, and the groan he feeds into your mouth coats your tastebuds like sweet sugar. he kisses you again, sucks your tongue into his mouth before he pulls away to look into your eyes. 

“you make me so hard.” he shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “can you feel what you do to me? do you feel how much i want you?” 

he’s not expecting you to reach down and touch him. his cock leaks in your soft grip, dribbles salty pre down your knuckles like it wants to further prove his point. you nod your head, your lip quivers. you want him just as much, so you lift onto your knees. changbin pushes your panties to the side with wide eyes and a bitten lip, watching you sink down onto him with bated breath. 

“you’re stretching me,” your voice is tight. you whine, curling your fists into his curly orange hair. “stretching me!” 

he growls. it peters off into a whine as pitiful as yours. he helps you bounce when you’re ready, strong hands holding onto your hips to ease the work on your thighs. you know changbin though, you know his hands can’t stay still when there’s so much in front of him that he loves, so many things he can touch. your beautiful breasts, the globes of your ass, the arms that embrace him, and the cheeks that hold your smile. he doesn’t know where to touch, so he touches everywhere, hands roaming your body in a way that only he can. 

changbin is sweet, the most thoughtful man you know even when his cock is digging you out on an empty road in the middle of nowhere. his hands wind up cradling the top of your head in case you hit the roof again, and he pulls you down so that you’re pressed chest to chest, your face tucked into his neck. 

“that’s it, baby,” he grunts. his praise meets your ears like a melody. “that’s it, that’s perfect. use me like this.” 

you lift your face from his neck and take the glasses from his nose so you can press your forehead to his. it’s sweltering despite the air filtering through changbin’s expensive car, the windows beginning to fog up in random places. if you didn’t take his glasses off, they’d be steaming up too. 

your cunt clenches around his cock, your eyes threaten to roll, but you don’t want to stop looking at him. 

the clap of your hips together mixes with the sound of music playing from his speakers. the heady stream of moans and whimpers and cries that you and changbin give each other drown out the music even more than your melding bodies. changbin fucks you so well. changbin fucks you so well, and it doesn’t matter where. 

“changbin,” you whine. “changbin, changbin, bin.”

your hips stutter. you cling to his arms like you’d float away if you were to let go. he cups the nape of your neck with one strong hand and squeezes, his other arm wrapped tight around your back to keep holding you close. 

he nods. he begs. “yes. yes, don’t stop until you cum, you hear me? keep going and i will too, i promise. you’ll make me cum. i’ll make you proud and cum, yeo- yeobo, but will you cum for me first?” 

your body answers him before your brain catches up enough to. of course you’ll cum for him, of course your pussy spasms and clenches and throbs through its orgasm as soon as he asks it to. changbin kisses the cry from your lips and gives you his own when he follows with his own climax, just like he said he would. changbin empties himself inside of you and eases his hands down your back, his neat nails scratching the skin soothingly. he heaves a heavy, content sigh and smiles against your forehead when your body twitches, ticklish. 

“holy fuck,” you breathe. 

changbin’s grin is smug and sated, but that sleepy demeanor is interrupted when he jolts in place, a surprised shout leaving his lips when you lean back to take a deep breath and accidentally press against the horn. 

[streetlvght]

halfway through the month and i haven’t had the time to look at my wips even once </3

[hanniedream]

meloni? MARSHMELONI!

[unanuvola]

SEO CHANGBIN 🤓 // STRAY KIDS • SALON DRIP EP. 104