Something More | pt 3
-> When a misunderstanding creates distance between you and Changbin, you’re forced to confront both your feelings and the fear that you may have ruined everything.
changbin x curvy!fem!reader
best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, suggestive, MDNI
4.8K
Warnings: making out, grinding, kissing, cursing, sexual themes, low self esteem, negative self talk, insecurities around body image and self worth
Part 1, Part 2
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Things you didn’t know about Changbin before you started making out with him on a regular basis -- all things you probably could have gone the rest of your life not knowing and would have survived just fine, by the way...
He checks your reactions constantly. And not just when his lips are your skin, but all the time.
It’s subtle, almost unfairly so. A quick glance, just casually making sure you’re okay whenever or wherever you are. He’s always reading you, and somehow managing to do it perfectly (which is more than mildly terrifying for someone who struggles to read themselves half the time).
Then, when he notices something, he fixes it. Like your shirt when it gets twisted, or your hair when it falls in your face, or the way you’re sitting on him if it looks uncomfortable. He never points it out, never makes it a thing. Just adjusts and moves on. Like taking care of you is second nature for him, as if it's something he's been doing without thinking for years.
It’s unsettling in the most disarming way possible, because it means you can't actually hide as easily as you thought you could.
And then there are these little pauses. The ones where he just...looks at you. Not in a dramatic way, not even enough to call him out on it. He doesn't say anything, doesn't do anything. So, in retrospect, it shouldn’t matter.
But holy shit, it does. It matters a lot.
Small things. Easy to miss. Unless you’re looking for them. And now, unfortunately, you are.
Why is it unfortunate?
Because the more time you spend with him, the more details reveal themselves. Details you really really like.
You’d think being best friends with him for so many years, you would’ve clocked at least some of these already. But the closer you get, the more you realize you were too caught up in your own head, too focused on yourself to really see him before.
And now that you do, there’s no unseeing him. There's no denying just how intense your feelings for Changbin have become, and how scarily fast they're starting to grow.
“You’re staring again,” he says casually from his spot next to you on the couch.
“No, I’m not,” you shoot back, a little too quick. “I was zoning out, and you just happened to be there.”
“Mhm,” he hums, clearly entertained by your weak excuse, finally turning his head to look at you.
Fuck, he's got that look in his eyes. The one that says you’ve amused him, and thus captured his entire attention.
You narrow your eyes. “Don’t ‘mhm’ me.”
“Why not?” He leans in, way too easily, like your answer won’t change anything anyway.
“Because…” your voice falters, pulse beginning to spike.
“Because…?” he echoes, softer now, his lips hovering just short of yours.
There’s no rush; there never is. Just this quiet certainty that something is about to happen. It feels so familiar by this point, and it pulls you into the moment without any effort.
And like always, you can't help but go quiet under his gaze.
Changbin’s eyes scan over your face for a mere moment before he leans in further. Again, something easy to miss if you didn’t already know what he's doing.
He’s reading you.
And maybe that’s what makes this so damn frustrating. Because that part clashes with everything else about him during moments like this.
Honestly, he’s looking at you like he’ll have you no matter what you say, no matter what you do. Like one way or another, he’s going to kiss you, and you won’t dare stop him.
But underneath all of that confidence, there’s respectful restraint.
You’ve always had an out. You still do. Even now, when the back of his fingers gently drift over your leg, and your brain short-circuits.
He’s patient. Respectful. Somehow able to make you feel like the most desirable person in the world while never making you feel guilty for stopping him halfway.
You exhale slowly, eyes fluttering closed as he closes the distance, his lips brushing yours in that annoyingly gentle way he does before he actually kisses you properly.
And sure enough -- there it is. Your bottom lip caught between his teeth before he closes the space completely, guiding you back toward the couch with steady, careful pressure.
His hand finds your lower back, warm and sure, fingers spreading over the fabric of your shirt as he eases you backward, slowly crawling his way on top of you.
Your back meets the couch, soft and quiet, and he follows, catching himself before his full weight lands on you, one arm braced beside your head, the other still at your back.
You expect a pause. There isn’t one. His lips never leave yours.
If anything, the kiss deepens. Your hands find his shirt without thinking, his shoulders something solid to hold onto as everything narrows down to the rhythm of his breathing and the slow, steady press of his mouth against yours.
You let yourself sink further into the cushions, the space between you shrinking as you tug him down by his collar, bringing him closer.
And yet still, you sense restraint.
Somewhere in the way he kisses you, in the way his hands hold you, there’s a quiet implication that it's hard for him to fully let go.
Like you could ruin him without even trying.
His weight against you is everything in this moment, as his lips trail to your neck. The change draws a quiet breath from you. Your hands slip into his hair and your body arches into his.
Even now, there’s no rush. No sudden push for more. No impatience. Just the warmth of his lips against your skin and the occasional nibble just below your ear.
With his lips still buried in your neck, both his hands find your waist. He adjusts you underneath him with easy control, guiding your hips so they align with his. Your body follows his lead as he settles between your legs, finally able to create friction with a subtle jerk of his hips, moving against you with a deep inhale.
That pulls a breathless reaction from you in form of his name, the small moan leaving your lips before you can stop it.
He stays there, every movement slow and controlled, letting the moment stretch on instead of rushing past it. A small rut of his hips, a firm squeeze of your waist, a gentle groan into your neck.
For the past month, this has been the line. Where your thoughts start to race faster than you can keep up, and suddenly you’re hyper-aware of everything. Every place he touches, every shift of pressure, every curve and fold of your body beneath him -- until the awareness turns overwhelming, and you can’t stop thinking about how big you must feel under his hands.
Usually you just press against his chest, pull away or push him off, laugh or ask him to stop.
And he always listens. Changbin has never once insisted on going further than you felt comfortable. Never once made you feel like you owed him anything for the way he touches you. Actually, he’s the opposite. He's frustratingly patient.
That should make this easier, right? That should be enough to quiet the doubt in your heart and anxiety in your head.
But it isn't.
Something quiet and mean formed in your mind years ago, and it never really left. The kind of thought that doesn’t feel like a thought anymore, but rather self-hate you learned as fact and never questioned.
Your body isn’t the kind people want. You're not sexy. You never were and you never will be. He's not enjoying this. He's tolerating your figure because he has to. He would prefer someone else, someone...smaller.
Even with Changbin borderline worshipping your curves every chance he gets, believing someone actually craves you doesn't come easily.
But you desperately want to believe Changbin wants you and to show him how badly you want him too. If anything, you don't want whatever this is that you have with him to fizzle out just because you're self-conscious about letting him fuck you.
So, you won't stop him this time. Even though he'll probably cringe at seeing you naked and you'll probably be permanently traumatized, it's better to be judged and laughed at than end up alone, watching him walk away.
Changbin stills. Then he lifts his head from your neck and gently smiles down at you.
For a second, you think he’s just pausing to look at you because he does that sometimes, although you still aren't sure exactly why.
But then his hands slip away, he leans down and kisses your nose and then your cheek.
When you blink, he’s already pulling away, sitting up, and offering you a hand to help you do the same.
Your stomach drops as he guides you upright with an easy, careful lift. “I didn’t say stop.”
“I know, but that’s usually where you ask to stop, so..."
The words hit harder than they should.
Usually.
Of course, he’s been paying attention. Tracking your boundaries even when you don’t say them out loud. Memorizing the exact point where your breathing changes, where your hands get tense, where you start to get stiff.
“I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for," he says, gently tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.
“But aren't you at least a little disappointed?"
He frowns, confused. “Why would I be?”
“I mean…I’m not exactly delivering on the whole friends-with-benefits thing.”
Little by little, the confusion folded in his brow smooths out. His gaze lingers on you a fraction longer before he looks away, the softness in his expression pulling back and replaced with something more guarded and more distant.
“Oh.”
“Sorry,” you mumble.
“For what exactly?”
“Making this awkward.” You let out a quiet chuckle. “I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never…done this before, if you couldn't tell.”
The silence that follows isn’t long, but it's heavy.
"Me neither."
You've made him upset. He's upset at you.
“But,” you add quickly, filling the space before it stretches too far, “I'm ready to take things to the next level now. I won't make you wait any longer, I promise."
“Yeah,” he says immediately, running a hand through his hair and over his jawline. “I get it. I mean, it's fine. I don't mind waiting."
But it doesn’t feel fine. And it definitely doesn’t sound fine.
"Changbin, I'm sorry if I frustrated you by always making us stop in the middle. I was just, you know, nervous. But I'm okay now."
You take his hand and place it on your upper thigh, but the moment you see his thumb on a stretch mark, a flicker of self-consciousness runs through you, even as you try to hold his gaze and pretend it doesn’t matter.
He sighs, "I'm glad you're not nervous anymore." He pulls his hand away. "But I'm not feeling it today."
Then he stands, gathering himself with his hands in his pockets.
"Actually a bit tired. I think I’ll head out early."
And then he leaves.
Not abruptly. Not coldly. He still presses a kiss to your forehead and reminds you to text him when you go to bed, still smiles before closing the door.
But something’s different.
And it stays different.
For weeks.
::
It’s not like Changbin to avoid you. And technically, he isn't.
He shows up every few days, jokes around before dropping onto the couch, eats your food, watches your TV, listens to your day. So, on the surface, everything seems okay.
But it’s not.
He hasn’t once tried to kiss you since that night, let alone make out with you. Every time you try to start anything, he shuts it down before you can even kiss his cheek.
It’s never obvious. Never enough to call him out without sounding ridiculous. He’ll laugh it off, redirect, brush your hand away like he just wasn’t paying attention, act like it doesn’t matter.
But it does. It really does. Because he used to meet you halfway – no, more than halfway.
And now…he just doesn’t.
He’s still kind. Still Changbin in all the ways that made you like him in the first place. He sits next to you, walks with you, talks like nothing’s changed.
But something definitely has.
It's as if he’s overthinking every inch of space between you instead of just existing in it. His eyes don’t linger on you the way they used to, although he's still reading you every chance he gets. But it feels…different now.
The way he looks at you is different.
It was subtle enough that you doubted yourself at first, but once you noticed it, you couldn't deny it. Something changed. But he never told you what it was!
And now it's messing with your head in bigger and bigger ways. Replaying conversations. Overthinking pauses. Inserting meaning into silences that used to feel safe.
Something is going down between you two, and you keep waiting for him to bring it up, but Changbin isn't addressing it directly like he usually does.
Not that you’ve tried to address it either, but that's his job! You're the chaotic, insecure, avoidant one, and he's the calm, responsible, communicative one!
Your lips press together as the realization settles uncomfortably in your chest. This isn’t just him being busy, or distracted, or giving you space.
He's…pulling away. But can you really be surprised? This wouldn't be the first time someone's gotten tired of you, after all.
Damn it, of course, he’s tired of trying. It's all because of you!
How many times did he lean in, touch you like you were something worth wanting, only for you to hesitate? To cut him off? To make him second-guess?
You drag a hand over your face, pacing your room like that’s going to chase the thought out of your head. Obviously, you're never going to be that girl, anyway. A guy like him? Wanting you like that? Wanting you at all?
That was already pushing it.
And yet somehow, you still managed to fuck it up.
You had something with him, something at least semi-real. Perhaps the realest thing a girl like you will ever get the chance at having. And you let it slip through your fingers before you even let yourself fully have it.
And even worse…you might’ve ruined the best friendship you’ve ever had, too.
You swallow hard, pacing slowing to a stop.
It can’t stay like this. One of you has to confront things. If he won't, then you will. The only other option is to keep guessing and spiraling and filling in blanks with the worst possible explanations and then crashing out.
But for once, you don’t want to be passive about it. You don’t want to wait for him to fix it, or pretend it’ll go back to normal if you ignore it long enough.
You have to be the one to say something. Even if it’s awkward. Even if you say it wrong. Even if it makes your chest feel like it’s about to cave in and all your coping mechanisms malfunction.
You exhale slowly, steadying yourself.
No jokes this time. No deflecting. No pretending this is anything less than what it is. The conversation you should’ve had weeks ago needs to happen today.
Your fingers hover over your phone for a second before you finally type out a text, simple and to the point:
[y/n] can we talk? actually talk?
You stare at it for a second, heart pounding like you're being chased by a madman. And then you hit send.
[binnie] Sure. When?
[y/n] tonight. my place? ill order pizza
[binnie] 👍
::
When he knocks, you don’t hesitate. You open the door with a small, sweet smile, doing your best to act like the bath robe you're wearing isn’t suspicious – it’s completely normal to answer the door like this at 10:58pm on a weeknight.
Changbin gives you a flat smile in return. It’s more than you expected, if you’re being honest.
“Come on in,” you say, stepping aside to let him pass.
The moment feels way too formal. You’re both used to Changbin just letting himself in because your space has also become his at this point. But now there’s a pause and a politeness that wasn’t there before. It makes your skin itch.
He toes off his shoes and follows you to the living room, to the place where you usually hang out and to the couch where you usually…well, where you used to spend most of your time together.
Watching him drop into that spot on the couch feels almost surreal after weeks of it being mostly empty. There’s something strangely comforting about seeing him settled into your space again, like nothing’s changed. Especially there. That exact spot.
The one that started all of this.
You didn’t tell him to sit there, and maybe it’s better that way.
You lower yourself beside him, leaving a small gap between your knees, your hands already fidgeting with the tie of your robe because if they don't do something, you might go insane.
“So,” he says, looking over at you with little expectation, “what’d you want to talk about?”
You’re not surprised he isn’t expecting much from this conversation. Not like you’ve ever been the confrontational type. And you haven't exactly given him a reason to think you’d suddenly sit him down and say what actually needs to be said. But you’re trying to be better. At least, for him.
“I’ll just get straight to the point if that's okay, umm,” you clear your throat. “Recently, I feel like you’ve been pulling away.”
Oh shit, you didn't know the shift in his face would be so immediate. Something flickers in his eyes. Was that guilt? Maybe he's just a little caught off guard. He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you, waiting to see where you’re going with this.
So you keep going.
“And I know why.”
“You do?” he swallows.
You nod. “Yeah. And…I want you to know that, I'm ready.”
There’s a pause. “Ready for what?” he repeats slower, trying to understand what you mean.
Instead of explaining with words – because you've used enough of them already – you stand in front of him and let the robe slip from your shoulders and fall quietly to the floor.
The moment remains suspended for several seconds as he takes in your body wrapped up in familiar black lace, black buckles around your thighs, and a black mini skirt resting just above your ass.
And all of a sudden, he's taken right back to that first night.
To the first time you danced for him. The first time he felt himself get addicted to your weight on his lap. His heart starts racing automatically in anticipation, and his skin starts reacting as if you're already on top of him. Even his scalp starts tingling like your fingers are already threaded throughout his hair, gently pulling it to tilt his chin and capture his lips. Oh god, his lips are dry. He runs his tongue over them once, twice, hoping it doesn't make him seem like he's drooling (but it wouldn't be a lie).
Fuck, you're beautiful. But it’s not just that you look good. It’s not the way you’re dressed, or how much skin you're showing, or how sexy you are when you get dolled up for him.
It’s you. All of you.
The way you’re standing there, a little tense, a little eager, hands fidgeting with the strap of your bra like you’re trying to hold yourself together. The way your eyes don’t quite stay on his and the tips of your ears get warm under his gaze.
You look so nervous. You look so real. You look so fucking pretty.
His gaze lingers longer than it should, considering your relationship is unclear and you don't belong to him in any sense. But you're here right now, allowing him to see you like this, and his eyes begin softening without him realizing it. He’s taking you in, piece by piece, not to judge, not to compare…just to see you.
And all he can think is how unfair it is that you don’t seem to understand what he’s seeing.
How can you stand there, right in front of him, and not realize that there’s nothing for him to pick apart? There's nothing to fix. Nothing to hesitate over. Nothing to hate. Nothing to laugh at.
All he can do is gawk and stare at you. Just you. Perfect, beautiful you.
You want to shrink under his gaze and run away, because it feels like it’s been minutes of you just standing here, practically naked, while he sits there unblinking, jaw open, eyelids fluttering, and wrists limp.
But you're not going to run away this time. If you back out now, you really will lose him forever. You have to see this through to the end, all the way…even if it's scary.
You step closer before you can overthink it, closing the space and settling into his lap. Maybe if you recreate the moment when everything felt right, it’ll fix everything that went wrong.
“I won’t pull away this time,” you whisper softly. “I won’t stop you. Do whatever you want to me. Just please don't leave.”
Your lips meet his, and for a second he just lets it happen.
Whatever restraint he’d been holding onto slips loose, and he seems to melt underneath you. His shoulders drop while his body becomes completely unguarded, following your every lead without hesitation. His eyes roll back in his head, and his hands firmly latch onto your ass, kneading and pulling you further onto his lap.
But just as your hips roll against him, his breath hitches and his body flinches, like he's been startled out of a daydream.
“Wait, wait,” he suddenly mutters into the kiss, pulling back just enough to break the momentum, hands easing you back with a careful touch. “What’s happening right now?”
Your confidence – which wasn't much to begin with – immediately falters. “I told you, I'm ready to let you go all the way.”
“Why are you suddenly offering to do that?”
“I don't want to upset you anymore,” you reply slowly, eyes falling, words much quieter than you mean them to be.
“So, let me get this straight. I got upset, and your first reaction is to let me fuck you?”
“Well…yeah?”
You're not sure exactly what reaction you were anticipating, but a fond chuckle was definitely not it. And in some weird way, it makes you think he understands you more than you understand yourself right now.
Changbin laces his fingers behind your ass so you can sit against them comfortably, adjusting you in his lap and looking up at you with gentle – dare you say – loving eyes.
When you’re settled, he tips his head back slightly, his usual, gentle smile that you've missed so terribly finally appearing in all its boyish glory.
“Do you think I was upset because you always stopped us before we had sex?”
You shrug. “What else would it be?”
“Actually, I was upset because you think we have a friends with benefits relationship,” he explains kindly.
“Isn't that what this is?”
“I guess for some people, it could be. But that's never how I saw us. And I never wanted that.”
“You never wanted me?”
“No, that's not what I meant! I want you, believe me. Like, holy fuck, I want you. But I thought we were dating,” he admits bashfully. “So, when you said we were just friends with benefits, it kind of broke my heart a little bit.”
“Oh…oh!”
It lands all at once, and you freeze, suddenly hyper-aware of everything at once: the way you’re sitting in his lap, his hands on your ass, what you’re wearing, what you were just trying to do.
Any left over confidence drains from your face so fast, immediately turning into visible embarrassment. You let out a nervous laugh, gesturing vaguely down at yourself and how absurd this all looks.
“So this was probably not the right idea, huh?” you say, half joking, half cringing.
“I mean, I'm not mad about it,” Changbin smirks playfully, exaggerating a lip bite just to make you giggle for real. “But I also don't want you to do it because you think sex will fix me being upset about something.”
“Sorry.”
“And to be clear – look at me,” he gently cups your cheeks, holding your eyes intentionally focused on his, “I'm not upset at you. I'm just…disappointed that we misunderstood each other this whole time.”
“Yeah, well that one was on me,” you say with a sigh, relaxing into his arms and dropping a little closer to his chest.
“No, I should have done a better job at treating you like my girlfriend instead of my friend I make out with.”
“You do treat me like a girlfriend,” you insist, mindlessly fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, just above the waistband of his sweats. “I'm just not used to being one.”
That makes him pause. Not in a bad way, just in a thoughtful way. Leave it to Changbin to actually take you seriously instead of letting your casual comment pass.
His expression softens, and he tilts his head cutely as if something has just clicked into place.
“Okay,” he says slowly, wrapping his arms around you again, tighter this time. “Then what are some things I can do to make sure you feel like my girlfriend?”
It’s an honest question. Just one you weren't necessarily prepared for. He already knows you way better than you know him, so to see him trying to understand you better than he already does makes your heart swell.
Without even thinking about it, your body leans into him, less guarded, more natural. Your hands find his skin absentmindedly, fingers brushing the back of his neck, then playing with his hair as if the very action soothes your nerves. Everything slows, your heartbeat, your thoughts, his eyelids when he blinks up at you.
“Could I come over to your place more often?”
“Of course, baby,” he says easily. “You can come over whenever you want even if I’m not there. Do you want a key?”
“Oh, well, maybe I don’t need quite that much right now,” you answer shyly, the offer sending goosebumps across your skin.
“Got it. I’ll get you a toothbrush and some hair ties for the bathroom. How does that sound?”
You beam. “That’s perfect.”
You're not sure who leans in first this time. Perhaps it doesn't really matter when his lips land on yours, somehow sweeter and softer than they've ever felt.
It starts small, just a quick peck. Then another. And another. Neither of you ready to stop, but smiling too much to take it seriously.
His lips brush yours again, lingering this time, and the moment naturally deepens into something slower and warmer. His smiles are still there, pressed between each kiss, undeniable.
You feel it then.
The way he pulls you closer, arms wrapping around your back, not letting any space exist between you if he can help it. His hold tightens until all of you is pressed against him.
And for once, your thoughts don’t spiral.
You don’t think about how your body must feel squished in his arms. Or how long you’ve been sitting in his lap. Or whether you should get up and give his legs a break.
None of it.
All you can focus on is the way he laughs softly against your mouth, a quiet, breathy giggle slipping into the kiss when you nuzzle his nose. The way his arms hold you close as if they'll never let you go.
And for the first time, a part of you feels beautiful and wanted simply because you are.
::
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