— this is how i imagined each of straykids members do when they try to muffle their moans by biting on your flesh as they fucked the shit out of you. forget restraint, they need grounding.
HEY— this is an 18+ post! please proceed witu viewer's descretion as this piece contains graphic smut thenes not suitable for minor readers. MDNI!!!!
CHRISTOPHER CHAHN BAHNG
Chan tries so hard to stay in control, but when he’s buried deep inside you, that control slips. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you with deep, powerful strokes. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin.
Every time he thrusts particularly hard, a low, guttural groan tries to escape him. He bites down on your shoulder, not too hard at first, but firm enough to muffle the sound. “Fuck… you feel too good,” he growls against your skin, teeth sinking deeper as his hips snap forward. His bites are possessive but caring, leaving clear marks he’ll kiss tenderly later.
He loves the way your body jolts when he bites harder, the way you clench around him. “Sorry, baby… can’t help it,” he rasps, voice strained, before biting again to silence another moan as he pounds into you. His hands grip your waist tightly, using your body as leverage while his teeth stay latched onto your shoulder or neck. When he gets close, his bites become more desperate and messy, almost like he’s trying to ground himself. He cums with his teeth sunk into your skin, groaning deeply into your flesh as he fills you up. Afterwards, he licks and kisses every bite mark apologetically while whispering how perfect you are.
LEE LEEKNOW MINHO
Minho is a teasing sadist even when he’s losing control. He has you on all fours, one hand fisted in your hair as he fucks you hard from behind. Every deep thrust makes him groan, and instead of letting the sounds out freely, he leans down and sinks his teeth into your shoulder blade.
The bite is sharp and deliberate, meant to muffle his pretty moans. “Quiet… or I’ll bite harder,” he whispers, voice sweet but threatening, right before his teeth dig in again. He loves the way you whimper when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him. He alternates between soft, teasing nips and hard, possessive bites that leave clear teeth marks.
He’ll bite the back of your neck, your shoulder, even the curve of your waist if he can reach it. Each bite is accompanied by a low, muffled groan that vibrates against your skin. When he’s close, his rhythm becomes punishing and his bites turn almost feral. He cums with his teeth sunk deep into your shoulder, groaning loudly into your skin as he fills you. Afterwards, he licks the bite marks almost apologetically while calling you his pretty kitten.
SEO CHANGBIN
Changbin is loud, intense, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s lost in you. He has you bent over the edge of the bed in a deep doggy-style position, his powerful body completely covering yours from behind. His thick, muscular thighs slap against the back of yours with every brutal thrust, the sound wet and obscene in the room.
Every time his fat cock slams deep into you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your toes curl, a deep, guttural groan builds in his chest. He tries to hold it back, but he can’t. Instead, he leans forward, pressing his broad, sweaty chest against your back, and sinks his teeth hard into your shoulder. The bite is strong and possessive, his jaw clenching as he muffles a loud, animalistic moan against your skin.
“Fuck— baby, you’re so tight,” he growls, voice deep and rough, the words vibrating through his teeth into your flesh. His massive hands grip your snatchable waist tightly, fingers digging deep into your soft skin as he uses your body like a handle to pull you back onto his thick cock. The contrast is overwhelming. His huge, muscular frame against your smaller one, his teeth sunk into your shoulder while he pounds you mercilessly.
The position lets him hit even deeper, and his muffled moans become louder, more broken. He growls into your skin, teeth clenched tight as his hips stutter. He cums with a loud, deep, muffled roar, sinking his teeth hard into your shoulder as thick ropes of cum flood deep inside you. His whole body shakes against yours, muscles flexing as he holds you in place, refusing to let go until he’s completely emptied himself.
HWANG HYUNJIN
Hyunjin turns even something as raw as biting into something almost poetic. He has you riding him slowly, his back against the headboard, hands gripping your hips as you sink down onto his cock. His head falls back at first, long hair messy, lips parted in pleasure. But as the intensity builds and his thrusts become deeper, needy moans start slipping out.
He suddenly leans forward, burying his face in the curve of your neck and shoulder. His teeth graze your skin teasingly at first, then sink in with a low, breathy groan that vibrates against you. “You feel too good… I can’t stay quiet,” he whispers hotly before biting harder, teeth pressing into your soft flesh as he snaps his hips up sharply.
The bite is firm but graceful enough to leave a clear imprint, but never truly painful. He loves the way your body jolts when he bites, the way your pussy clenches around him in response. His long fingers dig into your waist as he uses your body to bounce you harder on his cock. Every deep thrust is paired with a new bite. On your collarbone, the top of your breast, the sensitive spot where your neck meets your shoulder.
Then he'd moans against your skin, teeth grazing before sinking in again. His voice is breathy and beautiful, even when muffled. As he gets closer, his bites become more desperate, almost frantic. He holds you down on his cock with one hand on your waist while his mouth stays latched onto your shoulder, moaning loudly into your skin as he cums deep inside you. Afterward, he gently kisses and licks every bite mark, admiring how pretty they look on your skin while whispering how perfect you are.
HAN JISUNG
Jisung is loud, desperate, and completely unable to stay quiet when he’s inside you. He has you in missionary, legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you hard and fast. His face is buried in your neck, hot breath fanning against your skin with every thrust.
Every time his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you, a loud, broken moan tries to escape him. He solves it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, muffling the sound against your skin. “Fuck— baby, you feel so good I can’t—,” he whimpers before biting down harder, teeth digging in as his hips snap forward desperately.
His bites are messy and needy, lots of small, overlapping marks all over your shoulders, neck, and collarbone. He can’t control himself. The harder he pounds into you, the harder he bites, using your body to muffle his loud, whiny moans. “I’m sorry— you’re too tight,” he whines pathetically against your skin, teeth still latched on.
When he gets close, his thrusts turn frantic and sloppy. He buries his face completely in your neck and bites down hard on your shoulder as he cums, moaning loudly into your flesh while filling you up. His whole body shakes against you. Even after he finishes, he keeps his teeth gently pressed against your skin for a few seconds, breathing heavily, before he starts kissing and licking the marks apologetically.
LEE FELIX YONGBOK
Felix’s deep voice makes his muffled moans incredibly sexy. He has you in missionary, body pressed close to yours as he fucks you with slow, deep rolls of his hips. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin.
Every time he bottoms out, a low, rumbling groan builds in his chest. He muffles it by sinking his teeth into your shoulder, the vibration of his deep voice traveling straight through the bite. “You feel so fucking good, angel,” he groans against your skin before biting harder, teeth pressing firmly into your flesh as he grinds deep.
His bites are sensual and possessive. He loves leaving a trail of marks across your shoulders and chest. The combination of his deep voice, his teeth on your skin, and his thick cock stretching you open is overwhelming. He’ll switch between soft, teasing nips and harder bites that make you gasp. “Can’t stay quiet when you’re this tight around me,” he moans, voice beautifully low even when muffled.
When he’s close, his thrusts become deeper and more intense. He holds you tightly and bites down on your neck as he cums, groaning deeply into your skin while filling you up. The feeling of his teeth and his low, vibrating moans pushes you over the edge with him. Afterward, he gently kisses every bite mark, his deep voice soft and loving as he tells you how perfect you felt.
KIM SEUNGMIN
Seungmin tries to stay composed, but you feel too good for him to stay quiet. He has you pinned beneath him, fucking you with sharp, precise thrusts. His face is in your neck, and every time a moan threatens to slip out, he bites down on your shoulder.
The bite is firm and teasing. “Can’t even stay quiet for me?” he mocks softly against your skin before sinking his teeth in again. His bites are tender, never too painful, but hard enough to leave clear marks and make you whimper. He loves the way you clench around him when he bites. “Pathetic… getting wetter every time I bite you.”
He keeps one hand in your hair, pulling your head to the side so he has better access to your neck and shoulder. His thrusts are relentless, each one paired with a new bite. When he’s close, he bites down harder, muffling his rare but beautiful moans as he cums deep inside you. And even that bite couldn't hide how desperate his moans are spilling ending up with his whole body rigid. Afterwards, when you tried to open it up with he'll act as if that thing never happened.
YANG JEONGIN
Jeongin gets surprisingly possessive and eager when pleasure overwhelms him. He has you in doggy style or spooning, body pressed close as he fucks you hard. His face is buried in the back of your neck or shoulder, breathing heavily.
Every deep thrust makes him moan, so he solves it by biting down on your shoulder. “Noona… you feel too good,” he groans before sinking his teeth in, trying to muffle the sound. His bites start a little shy but quickly become more confident and possessive. He loves leaving marks on you, clear evidence that he was there.
As he gets more lost in pleasure, his bites become harder and more frequent. He grips your waist tightly with one hand while biting your shoulder, using your body to pull you back onto his cock. “I can’t stop… you’re too tight,” he whimpers against your skin, teeth still latched on. When he cums, he bites down firmly on your shoulder, groaning into your flesh as he fills you up, making up pull his head up just so he could gasp the pleasure out. Afterward, he becomes very soft and clingy, kissing the bite marks gently while asking if he was too rough.
korean is still extremely hard for you, even after one year being stray kids' staff, and minho is determined to help you
⤷ a/n : one more request for my list >////< i have to admit this one was kinda tricky because i had to test so many apps to translate my thoughts ;□; it was meant to be a headcanon but i got carried away and turned out to be a lil one shot ;) anyway i might have to revise this again later
⤷ contains : + 18 alcohol dirty talking p in v sex cunningulus safe sex (yay use condoms!!) ⋮ ⌗ ┆ wc [ 3.8k ] — tags : @jisungml + @smiileflower
⤷ now playing : stateside by pink pantheress + zara larsson
The studio speakers finally went dead, leaving nothing but the sound of heavy breathing fogging the mirrors on the dance room. Minho didn't drop to the floor like the others, he still stood in the center of the room, pulling the collar of his soaked shirt away from his chest and staring intensely at his own reflection. In the background, Changbin and I.N were already talking about getting food, but his eyes continued fixed on the mirror, tracking the exact second his foot slipped during the bridge.
“민호씨 (Minho-ssi)!” The choreographer called out, waving a tablet.
Before he could take a step, the studio door clicked open. You slipped in, face mostly hidden under a beige cap, keeping your back almost pressed to the wall as you moved toward one of the senior trainers. You bent into a quick, tense bow and whispered something that wasn't korean, the vowels were too soft and the rhythm was completely different.
The trainer didn't look up from her clipboard. She just let out a sharp sigh, rolled her eyes, and barked a dry “그래 (Sure).”
You bit your lip, your fingers twitching against the strap of your hoodie. Without another word, you turned and practically bolted out the door. Minho watched the door click shut, his brows knitting together.
By midnight, the building was mostly dark as Minho finally gathered his gym bag, sneakers squeaking loudly in the desert hallway. Near the exit, one last group of female staff members passed him, their tired faces lighting up while they offered quick bows.
“수고하셨습니다, 민호씨 (Good work, Minho-ssi).”
“조심히 들어가세요. 수고하셨습니다. (Please be careful on your way out. Thank you for your hard work.),” he replied, giving them a small nod.
As their giggles faded down the street, probably towards the nearest bar, the lobby went quiet again. When he noticed a silent shadow tucked near the vending machines.
It was the same beige cap from earlier, but this time you were sitting on a low stool, face buried behind a black mask, staring so hard at your phone that you didn't hear him approach. Minho stopped a step away, tilting his head to look over your shoulder. On the screen, a picture of a blue coastline flashed next to a text cursor of some korean-learning app, where your thumb hovered over the keyboard a bit hesitant.
“해안 (coastline),” Minho said into the quiet space.
You jumped on your seat, the phone nearly slipping through your fingers before you caught it against your chest.
“The word,” Minho pointed a nonchalant finger at the screen, completely unbothered by startling you. “You are new here? Never saw you.”
“Ah…” You pulled your mask down slightly, your voice a little shaky. “I am... stylist assistant. One year. Just small gigs.”
“Stylist assistant?” Minho tilted his head, absorbing the foreign language he also didn’t feel quite used to after all those years. “Cool. One year is... a long time.”
“네 (Yes),” you muttered, looking down at your hands. “하지만 한국어는 (But korean)… still very hard for me.”
“Oh, Felix too,” Minho shrugged, his sharp features softening into a casual smirk and a light chuckle. “He makes mistakes every day. It's okay.”
Headlights cut through the glass doors of the lobby, painting the walls white. A black cab pulled up to the curb outside, you glanced at your phone, hastily grabbing your clothes’ bag from the floor.
“I need to go. 수고하셨습니다 (Thank you for your hard work),” you said in a rush with a shy smile, throwing a clumsy bow before jogging out into the night.
Minho stood in the empty lobby for a moment, the heavy glass doors swinging shut as he let out a quiet breath, an amused smile spreading over his face at the sound of your adorable accent that still lingered inside his head.
—
With the release of a new comeback, over the next few weeks, Stray Kids operated in a clocked schedule of photo shoots, dance practices, and clothing fittings. But even through the hectic pace that took over the days ahead, he could always find you on the sidelines, working hard but lingering your eyes a bit too long on him before another staff called you out.
Whenever the last member wrapped up the day or the staff organized the few remaining equipment, you’d be there, untangling wardrobe racks or waiting on late-night shipments, and Minho would still be waiting for you under the fluorescent lights every night.
He didn't really like doing small talk, but he couldn’t deny how much he felt delighted by your cute reactions towards his presence, when he'd just walk up, tap something with his foot or finger, and wait for your response.
“목걸이 (Necklace),” he said one night, flicking the silver chain dangling from his neck.
“Moggeoli,” you tried a bit hesitant, your tongue tripping over the double consonant.
For a moment Minho stared at the shape of your mouth, licking his own lips to the thought of it against his. “목. 걸. 이. Again.”
“Mok... geol... i?”
“그치 (That’s it),” he would mutter as his eyes crinkled at the corners with a proud smile.
When your korean hit a wall, you'd shove your translator app in his face and Minho would read the overly formal text, make a disgusted face, then say some short english words and explain to you how people actually talked in Korea. He could be a bit blunt, not care much about grammar rules, but he never ran out of patience with you.
By the end of the month, the entire JYP building felt like a rush to finish up the last adjustments for the showcase that was less than twenty four hours away. It was past midnight again when you dropped onto a metal bench in the hallway, completely spent after packing away dozens of heavy boot boxes. Your brain felt completely fried from a solid twelve hours of trying to decode so many korean styling directions and tasks.
“Ah!” You flinched as a freezing water bottle pressed against your cheek.
Minho was standing over you, swallowed up by a black hoodie a few sizes bigger than him, his hair still slightly damp from the last practice. He looked completely wired, his eyes bright with that restless energy as he slid onto the bench next to you, keeping a bit of space between you, but close enough that you could feel his intoxicating scent wrapping around you.
“Today... very hard work,” Minho said with his voice a bit husky from fatigue, tilting his head toward you. “괜찮아 (All right)?”
“괜찮아요 (All right),” you sighed, letting your shoulders drop as you offered a tired smile. “Just... my brain is…” you mimicked a small explosion with your hands.
Minho let out a breathless laugh. “Me too. Choreo today... crazy.” He leaned his head back against the concrete wall, staring blankly at the hallway ceiling. Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, the silence didn't feel awkward anymore, it was just the quiet of two people who had survived the same long day.
When his stomach suddenly let out a loud growl, getting you to turn and look at him with a worried expression. But Minho didn't even look embarrassed, he just tilted his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
“Ah, I’m so hungry,” he muttered, shifting his weight and turning his body fully toward you and resting his elbow on the back of the bench. “You free tonight?” He spoke slowly, using his hand to emphasize the words. “Members at home, so…” He pointed a finger at you, then at himself. “Me. You. Ramyeon.”
You blinked. “Are you asking me out for dinner?”
“Yes. Dinner.” He nodded firmly, sensing the language barrier might need a bridge, he pulled his phone out, thumbs typing quickly across the screen before turning it toward you where the translator read: I know a really good place near here where the staff won't bother us. I can teach you the food vocabulary.
Your heart gave a sudden and unexpected flutter when you looked up from the screen, his usual playful smirk was gone, replaced by a surprisingly soft and genuine expression.
—
The restaurant was mostly empty, tucked away on a dark corner where you didn't have to worry about anyone recognizing him. Minho picked a table in the furthest booth, away from the small crowd near the counter. Over steaming bowls of ramyeon and a few drinks, the constant pull to check your phone translator faded, somehow with enough patience and fragmented phrases, the words just made sense.
Outside, the heavy and humid air from the past few days started to shift, low thunders rumbled across the sky and the imminence of a storm settled in Seoul. Rain started lashing against the restaurant’s glass windows, but inside, under the low yellow lights of the booth, the only thing keeping your attention was the relaxed smile on Minho’s face.
After each shared giggle, the heat of the burning soup and the kick of the alcohol began to catch up with you, loosening your tongue when his piercing eyes landed on you.
“You know… your voice is so cute in korean,” you smirked, twirling some noodles on your chopsticks. “It feels almost easy when you speak.”
“그래 (Really)?” Minho murmured, his voice dropped into a velvety, playful tone. He didn't reach for his phone this time, letting the foreign, melodic syllables just hang in the warm space between you.
“네 (Yes).” You bit your lower lip, trying to press down the growing smile curling on your mouth as your pulse started to hammer harder against your ribs.
“너 한국어 할 때 진짜 귀여워. 가끔 연습할 때 너 보느라 집중 안 돼 (You're also really cute when you speak korean. Sometimes when I'm practicing, I can't concentrate because I'm watching you).” He leaned closer, his dark eyes locking onto your lips before rising to meet your gaze. He reached across the small table, his long fingers gently playing with the sensitive skin just below your ear to tuck a strand of hair behind it.
“That’s not fair,” you blinked confused at the shift you couldn’t decode. “You're cheating. Translate it.”
Minho let out a low chuckle that vibrated deep in his chest. Instead of reaching for his phone, he slid along the booth, closing the distance between you until his lips slightly brushed the shell of your ear. His hot breath sent a dizzy spike of heat straight down your spine.
“우리 집으로 가자. 내가 너한테 뭘 하고 싶은지 직접 보여줄게 (Let's go to my place. I'll show you exactly what I want to do to you).”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes burning with a possessive heat that left absolutely no doubt about his intentions, even without the translation.
“What did you say?” Your voice came out in a quiet, uneven breath. “Translate. Now.”
Minho’s boyish, teasing smirk returned, he leaned in and pressed a faint kiss right to the corner of your mouth.
“I said,” Minho murmured in english, his voice returning to that polite cadence, though the fire in his eyes didn't waver for a second, “that the weather is weird and we should go to my house.”
—
The front door had barely clicked shut behind you before the skies were torn open outside, the sound of torrential rain hammering the windows in Minho’s apartment. You were both utterly drenched, water dripping from your hair and pooling around your sneakers. Without a word, he disappeared for a second, returning to drape a plush towel over your head and pointing down the short hallway.
“Bathroom. Warm shower. Go.”
He left a neat pile of clothes on the counter for you. When you finally stepped out of the fogged bathroom, his already oversized black t-shirt draped all the way down to your thighs, while the sweatpants hung far too low onto your hips, the drawstring pulled as tight as it could go.
The living room was quiet, save for the low murmur of the TV broadcasting a weather warning about the storm. You sat on the floor, waiting for your damp hair to dry, awkwardly feeling the heavy buzz of the alcohol wash away as you drank a large glass of water, that left you intensely aware of the kiss at the restaurant and the fact you were currently wearing his clothes in his apartment.
The soft padding of bare feet broke the quiet. Minho walked into the room, his own hair damp and messy, and slid down onto the floor beside you, resting his back against the base of the couch.
You stared down at your fingers, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Thanks,” you mumbled under your breath, keeping your eyes on your lap. “For the clothes... and the dinner... and everything you did for me.”
Minho offered a quick glance, sitting with his legs slightly spread, one knee pulled up closer to his chest, the other leg extended as his thigh almost brushed against yours. Scratching the back of his neck, a rare, genuinely shy smile touched his mouth.
“It's okay,” he said softly.
Silence stretched through the apartment, making the space feel entirely isolated from the storm outside, he shifted again and his body heat pressed closer as he leaned closer to you.
“I can... teach other things too,” he murmured, voice dropping an octave, “나 지금 너 진짜 필요해 (I really need you right now).” His warm breath fanned directly over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a sharp shiver down your spine. “Try it.”
You swallowed hard, your heart instantly pounding against your ribs even faster than before. “What does it mean, Minho?”
“Say it,” he countered, his dark eyes locking onto yours with unblinking focus. “And I will tell.”
“Na jigeum neo jinjja… pilyohae,” you repeated. The syllables felt stiff on your tongue, completely unattached to any meaning in your brain, but you forced them out anyway.
“It means,” Minho’s large hand reached up, his fingers cradling the back of your head and tilting it slightly to the side. “I really need you right now.”
Before the translation could fully register, he leaned across the small gap between you. His lips planted a soft, lingering kiss just under your ear, tracing a slow line down your jawline until he reached your parted lips. The kiss started slow and hesitant, almost as if he were trying to find a way to translate how good it felt to touch you without using words at all.
But the hesitation didn't last, it deepened rapidly, turning into a breathless rhythm as your tongues tangled in a wet embrace of pure need. Your hands went up to his broad shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie as you pulled him closer, sinking entirely into him. At that moment, you didn't want to pull apart and risk hearing any more of the foreign language that had isolated you for the past year, not when it finally made perfect sense.
Minho was the one to break the kiss, his chest heaving as he pulled back just an inch. He was panting, lips already twitching to press back against yours, but he stopped himself, holding your face firmly between his palms.
“계속 키스해줘 (Keep kissing me),” he breathed out raggedly against your swollen lips, his thumb wiping away a trace of moist from your chin. “Say it.”
“Gyesog kiseuhaejwo,” you whispered instantly.
“Keep kissing me.”
His palms slid to the sides of your face, angling your head as he bruised your lips again. The pace was urgent, sucking and biting at your lower lip, drawing a needy moan from the back of your throat. He pulled back again just far enough to look down at you, his pupils completely dilated and dark with heat.
“Want more?”
“Uhm,” you breathed, unable to form any coherent word or thought.
“Say 더 해줘 (Do more).”
“Deo haejwo,” you promptly repeated, your hands tugging him back down to you.
Minho let out a rough chuckle, hands sliding down to your waist as he pulled you directly onto his lap. The hard line of his growing manhood pressed firmly against you through the soft fabric of his sweatpants as he dragged his lips across your flushed cheek, his voice a soft murmur against your skin.
“더 해줄까 (Should I do more)?” He chuckled.
You didn't understand a single syllable, but the friction felt so good you didn't even care. You just leaned into his touch, your mouth seeking his as he captured your lips in another bruising kiss.
“느낌 너무 좋아 (This feels too good),” he muttered against your mouth. The casual and cute tone he used with the other staff members was entirely gone, replaced by a low rumble that vibrated deep in his chest and sent a wave of shivers down your spine as he ground his hips up against yours.
With a swift movement, his large hands wrapped under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly into his arms before laying your back down onto the soft cushions of the sofa. He let out a ragged exhale, his gaze completely focused on you as he gave a light tap to the inside of your bent knees.
“다리 벌려봐. 힘 빼고 (Spread your legs. Relax).”
You instinctively followed his order, spreading your legs open for him. A satisfied smile touched his lips, his fingers hooked into the waistband of the oversized sweatpants, slowly pulling them down over your hips along with your underwear, leaving you exposed to the cool air of the room. With a gentle but unyielding tug, he slid the hem of the shirt up your torso, exposing your perked up nipples underneath the fabric.
A sudden wave of shyness hit you and you started to close your legs again, Minho paused, a single eyebrow arching as he looked down at you. He brushed the tip of his finger against your jaw, silently commanding you to look into his eyes, before trailing that single finger down the center of your breasts, past your stomach, and directly over your damp core.
“잘하네, 착하지 (You’re doing well, good girl),” he mumbled against your skin, pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth.
You could see the heavy distortion of his bulge in his gray sweatpants, but he took his time, sliding his fingers over your slick skin before easily pushing two digits deep inside you. A few pumps later and a breathy moan escaped your throat, your hips instinctively arching into his touch.
But Minho pulled his hand back, the sudden loss of friction making you whimper wanting more. He reached up, pulling his own hoodie over his head in one fluid motion to reveal the toned lines of his chest and shoulders. With an impatient push, he stripped out of his pants, finally freeing his hard length that now hung stiffly in front of him. Completely uncovered, he loomed over you, his member giving a slight throb as his eyes tracked the way your thighs clutched at the air.
He reached into the pocket of his jacket, which lay discarded on the floor beside the couch, and tore open a condom wrapper, rolling it on quickly over his veiny shaft. Leaning back over your chest, he settled his weight between your thighs, aligning his round tip right at your entrance.
A small, anxious whimper left your lips, desperate to feel him inside you as he dragged his length with a stretch through your folds, your brain scrambled through the few korean phrases you actually knew, trying to patch together something from your previous lessons.
“Ah... 느낌 좋아요 (it feels good),” you whispered, voice trembling at the overwhelming sensations under your skin.
He let out a soft chuckle, the heavy tension in his shoulders melting as he pulled you flush against his bare chest, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck, slowly sinking all the way inside you.
“Why so polite?” he murmured, his breath hot against your collarbone as your warm, gummy walls opened to accommodate him. “Just say 좋아 (It's good).”
“좋아,” you gasped out, a breathless moan tearing from your throat as he began to move, his full girth making you fully aware of just how strong and manly he actually was beneath his usual baggy clothes. “더 해줘 (Do it more).”
“귀엽다 (so cute)... you learn so fast,” he murmured against your skin, a praise that felt like a caress, before blocking out the rest of the world by pressing another wet kiss over your parted lips.
“너 정말 꽉 조이네 (You’re so tight),” Minho groaned, his voice dropping into a ragged, low groan.
You had absolutely no idea what he’d been mumbling for the past few minutes, but the way his hips stuttered told you everything you needed to know. Your walls were clamping down impossibly tight around his length, catching every heavy friction of his thrusts.
“정말 미치게 하네 (You’re seriously driving me crazy).”
Another helpless moan broke from your lips when he suddenly lifted his torso, his large hands anchoring firmly onto your hips to angle himself deeper. He bit his lower lip hard, his eyelids fluttering shut as a violent shudder rolled through his entire body, sending the heat straight into yours.
“나 더는 못 참겠어. 너 진짜... 너무 좋아. (I can't take it anymore. You really... so good).”
With a dominant grip on your waist, he delivered a few more perfectly angled thrusts, his length throbbing maddeningly against your most sensitive spots until a sudden, burning tension struck both of your bodies at once. You cried out, a high-pitched yelp escaping your throat as your core tightly convulsed around him.
With one final, deep thrust, Minho buried his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was burning against your skin, panting more unintelligible groans until his entire body went rigid, a wave of intense pleasure taking over as he shot all of his warm load inside the latex.
The frantic pace slowly ground to a halt, leaving only the sound of your uneven breathing as Minho wrapped his arms around your waist and shifted his weight, pulling you along with him as he rolled onto his back on the couch. You collapsed directly onto his chest, your skin slick with a thin coat of shared sweat, his heartbeat was a wild, erratic thumping against your cheek.
Slowly, his fingers began to thread through your damp hair, the gentle, constant motion letting you drift toward a heavy slumber after such an exhausting day. But just as your eyes started to flutter shut, he hooked two fingers under your chin and tilted your face up to force you to look at him again.
A wide and teasing smirk spread across his face, his eyes crinkling with that familiar, playful malice. Before you could even blink, he reached down and gave your bare ass a light pinch on the soft flesh.
“Ah!” You flinched, instantly awake.
“아직 안 끝났어, 바보야 (It's not over yet, dummy),” Minho chuckled, his voice still husky but dripping with mischief. He tapped your chin playfully, switching back to his accented english. “Tutoring only finishes when the teacher says finish.”
📱 in which you've only been together for a month or two but a small act of service makes them want to drop on one knee.
warnings– nothing but men who are down bad for their girls <3
a/n– don't get used to the daily posts pls, I have a week off and got time on my hands rn :') | started a taglist so if you wanne be on it, feel free to ask!
genre: smut!! minors will be hunted for sport
contains: drabbles – you and each member desperately need each other but are so so tired :(
wc: 4k (~ 500 each)
♡ note: a reupload. i'll say it until the end of time, but i'm incredibly, freakishly grateful for the love the original series received <3
divider by @lariesographic / my masterlist
CHAN
Any reasonable person would be sleeping at this hour. You were asleep before Chan woke you, visibility exhausted and desperate for relief. He climbs into bed and presses himself into your back, large hands reaching around to your inner thighs. “Please, pretty girl, just let me do something, anything,” he whispers against your skin.
He rarely says what he needs so plainly, even rarer that he’s willing to beg. You can’t deny him, especially not when he grazes his fingers over your clit just to hear you gasp.
The room is dark, the only light flickering in from the moonlight and a bedside lamp he switched on. In his eyes, you’re glowing, always so perfect for him. Shadows dance across his chest as you move.
He lets out a content sigh as you sink down onto him. “Fuck, baby,” he whispers almost inaudibly. He clenches his jaw, like he’s trying so hard to keep still. You pause once he’s fully inside, taking your time to adjust to his size.
He props himself up on his elbows, unable to stop himself from staring at where he disappears inside of you. Slowly, experimentally, you roll your hips. His mouth falls open at the movement. A small amount of sweat already causes his biceps to glisten in the low light. You moan, and his eyes snap up to admire your blissed expression.
You keep grinding, feeling him hit the perfect spot inside you, clit brushing against him with every motion. Fuck, he’s so good for you. You chase your high by speeding up ever so slightly. He grips your waist and sets a slower pace himself. “ - Gonna kill me,” he whimpers, “Not gonna last.”.
He can’t help himself - he thrusts once up into you, still moving your hips. You let out a choked moan, eyes squeezing shut. He can see how weak you are - sleepiness and pleasure finally overtaking you. He takes the opportunity to sit up and hold you against his chest. You never stop your motions.
The new angle has his cock reaching deeper inside. He feels you squeeze tighter, and his head falls to your shoulder. He’s done for when you breathe his name like it’s the only thing you remember. He needs you to come with him, needs you to feel just as good as he is.
He reaches between your thighs and rubs small circles on your clit. A few more delicious motions, and both of your highs hit you together. He lets out a final moan, lightly biting your skin in an attempt to be quiet, and you feel the familiar warmth inside you. You try to ride out your own pleasure, but falter, his name falling from your lips as his fingers stay on your clit.
He keeps holding you against him, giving you both time to catch your breath. Eventually, he chuckles quietly and softly kisses your neck. “Thank you, baby,” he murmurs. He falls back with you into the mattress, whispering his praises until you fall asleep again.
MINHO
The entire world has faded to just you two in his hotel room. Minho’s sighs and flustered groans ring in sync with your heavenly grinds. His upper back is pressed against the headboard. It must be uncomfortable, but he doesn't seem to even know where he is right now. Usually he’s a lot more composed than this. Usually, he wouldn’t just let you climb on his lap, tease your tongue down his neck, whisper how good he’s being in his ear. However, his muscles are heavy after performing, and you looked so sweet asking, of course he gave in to you.
The view of you is enough to draw out an unhurried smile that reveals his bunny teeth. His gleaming eyes search yours – intent on mentally cataloguing everything about this moment. That focus doesn’t last long. All it takes is one more small bounce, one more of your barely-contained gasps, and his head lolls backwards. His eyelids shutter halfway closed, but he never stops watching you. You’re squeezing around him perfectly, and you’re so warm in his arms, fuck, he can’t remember why you don’t do this more often.
You’re beautiful like this. Moaning for him. Full of him. Giving everything to him, just as he gives everything to you. “C’mere,” he murmurs before pulling you further into his embrace. He kisses you, slow and sensual, absorbing your sounds as you keep rocking on him. His cock drags along your fluttering walls with every movement. Still working his lips against yours, he brings his hand down between your bodies to circle your clit in time with your grinds. As if reading the other’s mind, both of you speed up at once, chasing both your highs.
Eventually, you have to pull away to breathe. “Minho,” you pant, gripping your nails into his shoulders, “Minho, feelsogood.”
His cock twitches in you. His name, lovely and melodic, falling from your lips alone is almost enough to send him over the edge. Combined with your warm cunt pulling him in and the slight pain digging into his shoulders, he’s so close. He can tell you are too; your motions are starting to falter as heat builds inside you. His free hand holds your waist steady, helping guide you through the motions.
Another roll of your hips. Another gorgeous moan. “Baby, fuck,” is all the warning he can give. He groans your name, his grip tightens around you, and you feel the familiar warmth inside you. His orgasm triggers your own. Overwhelming pleasure washes over your body with Minho still circling your clit in an attempt to help work you through it.
After a few seconds, the stimulation gets too much. He chuckles as you gently swat his hand away from your core. Still his lap, he straightens his positioning to get even closer to you. “Come back,” he whispers, connecting your lips again, holding you as you melt into him.
CHANGBIN
How could he ever resist his princess, laying in his bed like she knows she belongs there?
You knew what he wanted the moment he crawled back beside you. He didn’t bother putting clothes back on after his post-gym shower. The scent of his body wash surrounds you, cozily tucked into the blankets. His damp hair is still slightly clinging to his skin. He leans in and gently kisses your shoulder. “G’morning,” he whispers against your skin.
You kiss him in response. His groan is stifled in your mouth, but his arms wrap around your waist and easily shift you on top of him. You giggle at the sudden show of strength, matching his own smile at finally being able to feel you. He missed you so badly.
He adjusts your hips slowly, giving you time to stop him if you want. You don’t. He moans as you sink down onto him, whispering “Fuck, princess,” into the cool air. “You don’t know what you do to me”. His head falls backwards onto the pillow. You take him so well. You pause, adjusting to his size, and his hands tighten on your hips, like he’s trying to contain himself.
You sit up to straddle him and finally move, dragging your hips once back and forth. He bites back a gasp. God. He’s deep inside you now. You’re gorgeous on top of him. Even when you’re still sleepy, chasing your pleasure, you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.
Underneath you, his muscles glow in the morning light. He’s heartbreakingly gentle with his touches, like he’s conscious of his own strength even like this. He almost loses it when you meet his eyes and smile back, so so perfect for him.
Another roll of your hips. His cock slowly drags against your walls at your relaxed pace, and he’s no longer trying to hide his sounds. You speed up ever so slightly, chasing your own high. His eyes squeeze shut. Curses and pretty moans fall from his lips the more you keep going, the more you keep perfectly squeezing around him.
You’re lost in him. Every motion brings you closer. He’s filling you perfectly, and your clit grazes him at every movement. You lean forward, anchoring your arms on his chest for support “Baby, fuck,” you breathe out, and his eyes snap open again to check on you.
He groans at the sight - he can’t help it. You look wrecked for him. He’s not going to last. He needs you to come with him, fuck, he’s already holding back.
You feel him start rubbing lazy circles on your clit in rhythm with your pace. Your choked cry is music to his ears. His other hand catches you when you slump forward, not able to support yourself anymore. “I know, princess,” he groans, voice as wrecked as you feel. “I know, I’ve got you.”
Pressed against his chest, your release washes over you. He tries to keep rubbing your clit, his fingers faltering from the feeling of being squeezed tighter as yours continues. His own high hits him, and he moves his hand up to hold you as you feel the familiar warmth inside you.
He doesn’t let go afterwards. You’re laying on him, wrapped in his arms, and he swears he’s in heaven. “Let’s just stay here,” he whispers, “for a little bit longer.” You nod against him. He has no intention of moving anytime soon.
HYUNJIN
The only sounds in the room are your intertwined moans and the creak of the bedframe, matching the steady rhythm of your grinds against him. Sleepiness still lingers in the air, but right now, you each want to make the other feel good. “That’s my girl - fuck,” he moans from below you. Tiny amounts of sweat clings his hair to his skin. His hands grip your waist, not bruising, just guiding. “You feel so good - always s’good for me.”
He fills you up so well. The angle has him hitting the perfect spot, and your clit brushes against him with every grind. Every movement brings you closer to your release.
You roll your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him deep inside you. He sucks in a sharp breath. His grip on your waist tightens almost imperceptibly. A whine escapes his lips, eyes quickly darting to yours to check if you heard it.
Of course you did. You smile back down at him and repeat the motion, enjoying the view of his head falling back as he stifles another whine. One hand drops from your waist to cling to the rumpled bedsheets, like he’s holding himself back.
Another roll of your hips. His cock pushes further in, causing your knees to weaken from pleasure. You whimper, “Hyunjin, baby -”
“I know, I’ve got you,” he breathes, and brings his hands up to support your weight. You let your body slump forward, leaning your arms against his chest as you try to keep your rhythm. His gaze lingers on your breasts, swaying as you move.
Your pace falters more with each delicious grind, your high quickly approaching. He feels your walls clench around him and he knows you won’t last much longer. Neither will he. He needs you to come with him, but fuck, he’s already almost there.
His eyes clench tight, one of his signs that he’s close. “Baby, please,” he begs, for nothing specifically and everything at once. He grabs your hand and guides it to your clit, choking on a sob as he watches you rub small circles in rhythm with your pace.
Your orgasms overtake you at once. His name falls from your lips over and over, like a prayer, as waves of pleasure wash over you. He groans as he spills familiar warmth deep inside you.
Afterwards, you lean forwards, laying on his chest. He runs a hand through your hair, pausing every so often to kiss the top of your forehead. He whispers, “I love you,” against your forehead. Eventually, the two of you drift off to sleep, still tangled in each other.
HAN
Everyone else is asleep. He should be quiet. He should stop moaning. However, he’s buried deep inside his pretty girl, and he wouldn’t notice if the world ended right now. You’re on his lap, kissing down his neck, driving him insane. He angles his head to give you more space, and moans even louder as you take advantage of it.
You shift your weight, pushing him deeper inside you. Your head falls forward onto his shoulder. Everything about him - his scent, his touch, him - invades your senses. He’s brushing the perfect spot, and you’re not even moving yet. Like he’s reading your mind, he slightly squeezes your hips, his fingers digging into where they rest.
His eyes are big behind his glasses. His chest rises and falls with how heavily he’s breathing.
You rotate your hips, enjoying the view of his eyes rolling back into his skull. You moan in tandem - the sensation is too delicious for you to stop now. You repeat your motions. His high-pitched whine only spurs you forward, chasing the sensation of his cock hitting deep inside you again and again. His nails dig deeper into your skin. Already, the pain mixed with pleasure is almost too much.
He’s not doing much better. Each time you moan his name brings him closer to the edge. He needs you to finish before him. He moves his hand to grip your inner thigh, thumb barely brushing your clit. He looks up at you, tears shining in his eyes. “Can I, please?” he breathes out.
You nod so fast your vision slightly blurs.
“thankyouthankyouthankyou”
Then he’s pressing slightly harder, rubbing lazy circles while staring intently at where he’s connected to you. His glasses fall slightly down his nose. He doesn’t care.
Fuck. Your movements get sloppier as the pleasure builds. His bedframe scrapes against the wall as you speed up. He’s incapable of forming words, just babbling half-sentences of praise. “Fuck, baby - so good for me - please - fucking please,” spills out.
He can feel how close you are with how you clench around him. He just needs to hold on for a bit longer. He keeps rubbing your clit, and lifts himself up to kiss you. His lips work against yours, hoping he can convey his passion through it.
Your orgasm hits you like a train. Your moans grow in volume as you try to ride it out. He never stops rubbing your clit. His own follows closely behind yours, spilling deep inside you. He breaks the kiss to repeat your name like a prayer.
You fall against his chest, both of you panting as you come down. His arms engulf you and squeeze you tighter against him. “Thank you,” he whispers against your cheek. Reluctantly, he moves you off his lap and ensures you’re comfortable laying against him. You two stay like that, holding each other, until you both drift off to sleep.
FELIX
His deep moans amplify the lust residing in the air. The only light comes from his long-forgotten PC, the abandoned login screen illuminating you two on his bed. Felix forgot the game exists. Right now, he’s just focused on trying to control himself as you roll your hips on top of him.
You’re in his arms, making out with him, running your fingers through his long hair. You’re always so perfect for him. Always his ethereal angel. He’s already lost in you, and you’ve barely started. As you continue your slow movements, he breaks your kiss to brush a loose strand of hair out of your eyes, whispering, “so, so beautiful,” almost to himself. His cock twitches just from your resulting sweet smile.
You take your time, enjoying every inch of him. Your clit brushes against him with every movement. Your quiet moans are the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. He would stay here listening to you forever, if you let him.
He’s vaguely aware he has a roommate on the other side of the wall, but that awareness is waning by the second. It’s gone completely when you speed up, chasing the feeling of him hitting deep inside you. He lets out a choked groan. His abs flex with restraint, like he’s holding himself back.
Curses mixed with your name spill from his lips. One hand gently lands on your inner thigh, then travels over to your clit, rubbing small circles in rhythm with your motions. Your eyes squeeze shut, entirely focused on your building pleasure.
“Look at me, angel,” his low voice breathes out. “Please.” Of course you do, and fuck, he looks divine. His freckled cheeks twinge pink. His long hair falls messily over his shoulders. He holds your gaze and sighs, “That’s my girl.”
You clench around him at the praise, and he swears he sees heaven for a moment. His head falls back into the pillow behind him as he keeps babbling, “Feels so good - always s’good - angel, fuck.” A few more motions, and you weaken from the sensations, leaning forward to steady yourself on his chest. Your combined moans fill the room.
God, he’s so close, but he needs you to come with him. His fingers speed up on your clit, rubbing faster circles as he revels in your noises. Your highs hit together. He moans even deeper as you feel the familiar warmth inside you. Your hips falter on him as you try to ride out your waves of pleasure. He works you through it, still babbling out his love for you.
Afterwards, he wraps his arms around you once more, pressing you into his bare chest. “Thank you, angel,” he whispers into your hair. He holds you against him, wrapped up in his sheets and each other, until you both drift off to sleep.
SEUNGMIN
Seungmin could not care less about the rest of his members going about their nightly routines outside his door. Why would he, when you’re in his arms, making out with him, slowly rolling your hips like you have all the time in the world. You do, as far as he’s concerned. He never rushes with you if he can help it.
Your hands are laced in his hair, absentmindedly twirling some longer strands between your fingers. He moans at the sensation every so often. Right now, he would do anything if it meant you would stay in his bed, making him feel so good he’s about to start seeing stars. Your lips are so soft against his, and he’s fitting wonderfully inside you - squeezing like you are perfectly made for him.
You pause your movements for a moment, and he actually whines. He pulls away from the kiss to steady his breathing. His efforts are futile - his breaths quickening again when you sit up, him still inside you, and graze your fingers over his chest. The new angle is pushing him in deeper than he was before. He moans your name and leans his head back into the pillows beneath him.
You resume your motions, feeling every inch of his cock hitting deep inside you. He genuinely might lose it from the sight alone. His hands rub up and down on your thighs, trying to feel as much of you as possible. He can’t help himself - moaned snippets of praise spill out of his mouth faster than he can register his own words. “Fuck, baby - so good - oh my god - you’re beautiful,” is just part of what you’re able to catch.
Your clit brushes against him with every grind. The sensation is delicious, paired with Seungmin’s whimpering voice and him staring up at you like you’re a goddess, you’re not going to last. He’s not either - he’s babbling more with each passing second. From below you, he stares up, suddenly looking more desperate. “Tell me you’re mine,” he whispers, and thrusts lightly up into you.
You weaken from it, leaning forward onto him. He takes advantage of the position to kiss you again. “I’m yours,” you whisper against his lips.
That does it. His head falls forward into your shoulder, whining softly again, as you feel the familiar warmth inside you. Your own orgasm follows quickly afterwards, pleasure washing over you, your pace faltering as you try to ride it out.
For a few moments, neither of you move. He rubs small circles on your back as he attempts to recover from the slight overstimulation. Eventually, you begin to get off him, only to be met with him lightly grabbing you, keeping you in place. “Don’t,” he murmurs, “please.”
JEONGIN
He’s most beautiful in the quiet moments. He’s ethereal always, but there’s something about the unguarded version of Jeongin, with messy hair, easy smiles, and holding you close like he can’t fathom ever letting you slip away, that always gets you needing more. Outside, the low hum of others in the same space filters through the bottom of his door, but they might as well be lightyears away for all the attention Jeongin pays them. It’s easy to forget that anyone else exists. It’s easy to revel in each other, barriers shed, until every stress, every thought vanishes.
You pull away from the kiss first, Jeongin’s eyes still closed and moving to follow after you, a line of spit that should be much more obscene than it actually is connecting the two of you. “Can’t wait anymore,” he murmurs, eyes still closed. “Please,” he adds, “just want you.” Underneath you, his flannel pajama bottoms tent seemingly painfully. You’re not doing much better.
“Anything for you,” you breathe, intended as teasing, but it comes out more like an admission. Regardless, it has the desired effect, a strangled groan leaving him as he shimmies out of his clothes with record-breaking speed.
Your moans intertwine as you sink down onto him. You’ve done this countless times, and will be in this position countless more, but you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the delicious pressure in the first few seconds. He knows this, too, if his barely-contained smug expression is anything to go by. It vanishes when you roll your hips, feeling his cock deep inside you. His forehead falls forward onto your shoulder, his hair tickles your collarbone. His glasses slip down the bridge of his nose.
“Fuck,” he groans into your skin, “you’re so good at that.” As if to accentuate his point, he can’t contain a sharp inhale as your movements speed up.
Like mirror images of each other, the cockiness on your face is wiped away as his fingers find your clit to rub small circles in sync with your grinds. Raising his head again, his gleaming eyes search yours, soaking in your pleasure as much as he can. He can’t help himself; he thrusts up once, smiling again at your gasp. He pulls you in to kiss you again, lips working against yours, only broken by the moans escaping both of you.
Your movements falter the more your pleasure builds. Jeongin notices. Of course he does – he notices everything about you. His fingernails dig into where they rest on your hip, surely leaving crescents to discover in the morning, and without breaking rhythm, he takes over setting the pace himself.
It doesn’t take long with Jeongin fitting perfectly inside you, his fingers circling your clit, his lips heated against yours. Your release washes over you with a cry of his name. He keeps moving you, keeps touching you, to help you ride it out. A few more motions, and he follows, your name falling from his lips.
A few moments pass. He holds you pressed against his chest as you both catch your breath, Eventually, you move to get off him, but his grip only tightens, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Stay here with me,” he whispers.
skz taglist: @emilyywhyy @velvetmoonlght @opiumfidgetspinner @bahngarang @pixie-felix @certainstarfishmiracle @luvvvivi @strhwa @ayedomino008 @breakmeoff @foppishitudinality @ilovedallywinston @cookiewookie9t @astrayapple @teffyx @geni-627 @kpopgirliez @flwrkissed @imnotsupposedtobedoingthis
lmk if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!
genre: crackfic, dark comedy, dark romance, thriller
summary: hyunjin invites you over to hang out with him and his friends. they try to kill you. you survive! aaaand now they’re obsessed with you.
warnings: non idol au, attempted murder of protagonist(reader), violence, blood, stalking, obsessive behavior, mentions of death/murder/dismemberment/(implied)rape(it’s just in a conversation, it didn’t happen to anyone in the fic!!), cursing, homicidal behavior/psychopathy, dumb han and felix, people die, the love interests(skz) are the problem, nobody here is okay, english is obvi not my first language
word count: 13k
you almost got murdered.
by eight gorgeous men.
yea, y/n. you got yourself into that situation. but how?
you were walking home once, minding your own business, chewing on some thought. could have been anything. from dinner to what you need to do tomorrow, let’s not act like it matters. none of these little details matter, what does, is that a man was walking towards you. (an: guys i’ll clarify it now that it’s hyunjin. i just hate when fanfics try to describe looks when we don’t know names yet)
the man passed you. smelled great. nothing more.
“is this yours?”
that was him. his voice. he talked to you.
you stopped then and turned around. he was also standing still, looking at you. holding a single airpod.
no. it was not yours. at all. not your airpod.
“shit. yes, it is.” you smiled. a hundred percent aware that the single airpod was not yours.
hyunjin smiled, relieved in a way that suggested he had not planned beyond step one: talk to pretty girl. he asked your name. you asked his. he pretended he wasn’t internally rehearsing how to introduce you to the worst decision of your life.
and that’s exactly how you got yourself into the situation before your getting murdered one, where you kept seeing hyunjin, never really revealing that the airpod was not yours. you didn’t want to, he was just so cute.
and also a serial killer, not like you knew that though.
hyunjin was always the best with the women. or with the people in general. the other seven guys were… doing alright with them, sure, some better and some worse, but hyunjin always got what he wanted. he was the one collecting the people, another person to kill.
which did not happen to you, duh it’s in the first line, but how? how, when the eight of them, eight little nobodies who only got through life because of each other, are so good at killing? how, when it’s the main thing that bonds them together and gives them their sick little dosage of joy? how, when that’s the thing they can do best? how, when they’re fit? lucky? hot?
yea i’ll just stop with all the questions. i’m boutta explain, obvi.
so. you two started meeting up. you not telling him that the airpod wasn’t yours, him not telling you he was planning on sliming you out.
once, he invited you out. you two have been out hundreds and thousands of times(like five times), so it didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary to you. not a date, he said hang out. his place. “a few friends might be there” he added. you went. fucking idiot.
the place was so fucking cool. big. looked good. kinda place where you immediately lost cell service and your sense of direction.
“that’s just the guys.” hyunjin had also said when you two got there, gesturing inside.
you met them all in under three minutes, which was about two minutes too many. chan was a gentleman. he smiled. he shook your hand. he had huge arms and was gorgeous.
minho and seungmin both looked like they hated you. looked you up and down. acted like bitches. acted like they didn’t understand what you wanted when you said hi and introduced yourself. acted like you were beneath them. hm.
changbin saved the moment by immediately knocking over a chair and laughing at himself. he was sweet. he asked you if you wanted a drink. that was nice, because he meant that. he wanted to get you something to drink, even if he wanted to kill you after. wanting to absolutely murder you wasn’t personal, so he wasn’t going to make it personal.
felix and unfortunately han, two sunshine or whatever you heard the guys say about them(why were there two?) were sweet, but dumb. han tried to shake your hand and missed. felix complimented your shoes and then apologized to the floor.
jeongin bowed. he asked if you were real. he told chan you were out of his league. chan was about to smash his head into a wall. he seemed intelligent though, a little playful, a little flirty. sweet guy. (also a fucking psychopath y/n run run RUN)
through all of it, hyunjin, the liar, the asshole, stayed near you. calm. watching. soooo fucking hot, man. everyone else was loud or mean or deeply stupid, but hyunjin looked at you like he didn’t quite know what to do with you.
which was funny, because the rest of them clearly knew exactly what they wanted to do with you.
they were bad at hiding it. terrible, actually. chan kept whispering. minho and seungmin stared too long. felix dropped something sharp and went “oops”. jeongin asked, loudly, if you were good at running, then immediately said he meant marathons.
you thought they were weird. intense. hot, unfortunately. you had no idea you were being sized up.
so. like two hours into the hang out. you didn’t have your phone with you, it was in the living room somewhere. you were in the kitchen with hyunjin, leaning against a counter, listening to him explain, calmly, something about the cabinets.
“uhuh.” you said, opening three drawers and finding nothing but knives. so many knives. “oouukay.”
from the living room, something heavy scraped across the floor.
“alright.” chan’s voice came. “enough foreplay.”
you frowned, no idea what he was referring to. yet. “that’s a weird thing to say out loud.”
hyunjin hummed. then seungmin appeared in the doorway, posture lazy, swaying a lil, with a fire poker in his hand. i repeat, fire poker.
you had just enough time to think oh that’s new, before he swung. clean. aimed at your head.
you ducked on instinct. the poker smashed into the cabinet behind you, splintering wood, sending a drawer of knives exploding onto the floor.
everyone froze for half a second.
“jesus.” changbin said from somewhere nearby. “we just fixed that.”
you stared at seungmin. he stared back. you two stared at each other for a while.
“…huh.” you said. “okay.”
then you ran.
the boys just… got into it immediately. switched. getting up. listening to your footsteps. laughing. jeongin whooped. they all obviously had done this before. they were so boyish, all of them. and so fucking evil.
you ran down a hallway, heart slamming in your ribs. a door on your left? locked. on your right, open.
you ran into a study and immediately regretted it. felix was there, sitting on a desk, holding a crossbow. WHERE. DID. HE. GET. THAT. FROM.
“oh!” he said, genuinely delighted. “hey.”
“move.” you said.
he winced sympathetically. “can’t.”
the shit that he shot out of the bow that i don’t know the name of thunked into the wall beside your head. close enough that you felt the vibration in the air, from the ground.
“fuck you.” you said, accepting it surprisingly quick that you were getting hunted down.
you burst back into the hall and nearly collided with changbin. he caught you by the shoulders automatically(so like without thinking about it), steadying you.
“okay.” he said, quick and quiet. “left stair’s blocked. right one buys you maybe twenty seconds.”
“why are you telling me?” you panted.
he shrugged. “i like you.”
then he leaned down, pressed a quick kiss into your hair, oh, and shoved you forward by the middle of your back.
“go. before i change my mind.”
you went.
behind you, he called out cheerfully: “she went right!”
“YOU FUCKING LIAR.” minho yelled.
you ran up the stairs two at a time. at the top when you turned, han was waiting, holding a bat.
“oh shit.” he said. “hi.”
you grabbed the bat midswing, yanked it free, and cracked him across the shin. you fucking rock y/n.
he screamed, fell over, yelled “timeout! timeout!”
you ditched the bat(DUMB bitch) and ran into what looked like a… whatever room. it was big, pretty big, too open, too much of a bad choice.
chan stepped into your path. was this bitch there the whole time? no, he couldn’t be. could he?
you spun, only to find minho closing in. you kicked him in the knee, hard. he lunged. you ducked, grabbed a chair again and swung blindly. the thing is, you were extremely weak tho. the chair could have been a fucking pillow at this point, because he just stepped away from it. and you… kinda went with the chair. but you stood up! luckily.
they loved this, they loved the way you fought, the way you adapted. it was cute, girly how you didn’t scream, just swore and moved and made it harder than it was supposed to be because they know their shit in this field. it made them better, sharper, more playful.
you ran out the door you came in thru and shut it behind you, jamming a heavy table against it. the boys could have prevented that, they just didn’t. you were way too fun, and they knew that you were getting tired. they knew they were going to win this. again.
you waited a bit.
the door shuddered. once. twice.
then stopped.
silence.
your stomach dropped. that was never good.
“okay.” hyunjin’s calm voice came, suddenly close, from behind you.
you spun.
for a bit, you just stared at each other.
“yeah. so. the airpod?” you said breathlessly.
he winced. “yeah.”
“figures. sorry for lying about it.”
“it’s fine. i lied too.” he stepped aside, gesturing toward a side door. gentlemanly. “run. i’ll count to five.”
“why?”
he smiled, beautiful. “because it’s more fun when you almost make it.”
you didn’t wait for five. you ran again, heart in your throat.
“YOU’RE DOING GREAT!” felix shouted when he saw you run past him. “I MEAN—STOP!”
yeah. pfftt.
the house stopped making sense after a while. corridors doubled back on themselves, which was fucking brutal. there were rooms you swore you’d already crossed. you ducked into a side room and slammed the door, immediately realizing, too late, that it didn’t lock.
“fuck.” you whispered, hands on your knees, trying to quiet your breathing. and you listened. footsteps walked past. someone laughed, a really… loud laugh. jeongin’s voice echoed from somewhere far off. you could hear how unserious his voice was, talking bout sum “she’s still upright, folks, which is honestly impressive” genuinely just making fun of the situation.
“keys.” you muttered. “i need keys.” because you clearly remembered hyunjin closing the front door after you.
from behind the curtain came a soft, confused, very close: “…huh.”
you froze.
the curtain moved. it was han, holding a knife and a flashlight upside down, blinking at you.
“oh. hi.”
third hi he said tonight. hi to you too, han.
you stared at each other.
“uh.” he said.
“yeah.” you replied.
a beat passed.
another.
he frowned at the flashlight, turned it the right way up, blinded himself, and yelped.
“sorry.” he said, rubbing his eyes. “didn’t mean to corner you.” serial killer btw.
“you did. that’s literally what you did.”
“right.” he nodded. “yeah. so. i’m supposed to, uh—” he made a weak stabbing motion with his hand that held the knife. missed entirely. “—do the thing.”
you glanced at the knife in his hand. them at him. then back at the knife. “you don’t look super confident about that.”
he shrugged. “i get nervous.” he hesitated. then leaned in and whispered: “hyunjin gave his keys to chan, i saw it.”
“…thaaanks.”
he smiled, shy. “okay.” he said, stepping aside. “i’m gonna count to… uh… what’s fair?”
“ten.”
he nodded seriously. “ten.”
you bolted.
“ONE—THREE—WAIT—”
you ran out. didn’t get far though, you heard too many noises, so you did what made sense at the moment. hide again. and you did hide again, at least tried, you were soon interrupted by seeing felix, who was crouched behind a couch, chewing on a cereal bar.
he looked up mid bite. “oh. hello again.”
“move. again.” you said.
he scooted instantly. “yep.”
you walked past. paused. looked back. “why are you hiding?”
he swallowed. “i forgot what the plan was.”
“oh. i’m sorry.”
“it’s alright.”
from the hallway, heavy footsteps. chan, probably. he walks confident. you can just… hear his walk. he walks like it’s heavy, grr. felix heard it too, grimaced.
“he’s gonna be mad. he hates when i lose track.” felix whispered.
you looked at felix. then at the hallway. then back at felix. “you’re fine. it’s not your fault. i think so, at least.” you looked around. “he just feels like the fucking star of the show, having the keys and all that”
felix’s eyes lit up. “oh! yeah, he’s got those.”
boom. that was your plan. sneak the keys into the conversation. get to know about it. you’ll be out of there in no time, y/n.
you looked back at him. “can you distract him?”
felix thought for a second, then shook his pretty head enthusiastically. “absolutely not.”
“…fair.”
he stood anyway, shook himself together kinda, and ran into the hallway yelling “HEY BRO I THINK SHE WENT—”
you didn’t hear the rest, you ran. climbed stairs, ducked under a railing(just being extra for no reason pfffft), slipped through a door that led into a laundry room, and locked it. the blessed, beautiful click of a lock nearly made you cry. then you crouched between machines, shaking, trying not to laugh or scream or do both.
minutes passed. nothing. then, a knock. polite. gentle.
you stared at the door.
hyunjin’s voice, calm and exactly what made you like him. “i’m not coming in.”
“yeah? promise?”
“cross my heart.”
“don’t have one.” jeongin added from somewhere farther back.
hyunjin sighed.
the fact that jeongin heard you talk and didn’t go to the laundry room says a lot about them though. tells you that they’re doing this for fun, that they’re not in a hurry at all.
you edged closer to the door, careful. “i need the keys.”
“i know.”
“give them to me.”
a pause. you imagined him leaning against the wall, hands in pockets, watching the floor. “you almost deserve them.” he said. “that’s the problem.” from down the hall came a crash, followed by changbin yelling. hyunjin continued anyway, softer now. “if you get them, though… you’re really leaving.”
“yes.”
“shame.”
fucking manipulator. that’s what he is. “you’re really leaving” oh boo fucking hoo. sappy asshole. not one sincere bone in his beautiful body. he said this cringe shit on purpose.
the doorknob jiggled once.
“five minutes.” he said. “that’s what I can give you.”
then footsteps retreated. you sagged against the dryer, adrenaline basically ripping your muscles, like ripping. we all know the feeling. anyways, five minutes. okay. you had to get out for sure, otherwise you would be so dead. so, next, run. you were going to run. open the door and… go… some… way. anyways, that’s what you did after about one minute of sitting on the floor and thinking about how will you do that. you got out, and didn’t stop running so much as you failed forward into the next hallway.
somewhere behind you, han shouted your name wrong, twice, then tripped over absolutely nothing and went down with a sound that sounded like multiple things falling with him.
“FUCK. i’m okay! I’M OKAY.”
you risked a glance back just in time to see him scramble up, only to immediately collide with minho, who had come around the corner too fast. they hit the wall together, tangled, swearing.
you burst through a door and nearly slammed straight into seungmin. both of you froze. like actually froze. inches apart. his breath was loud. yours was worse. he stared at you. you stared at him. his grip tightened on whatever sharp thing he had in his hand.
“…hi.” you said.
“sup.” he said. “you’re shorter up close.”
“fuck you.”
“later.” easily.
you looked at him, furrowing your pretty brows.
he glanced down at the knife in his hand, then back up at you. “this is awkward.”
“yeah.”
he tilted his head. “you okay?”
“no.”
“hm.”
there was a beat where neither of you moved. somewhere far away, something crashed, probably han.
seungmin tilted his head. “you gonna run, or are we doing this weird staring thing?”
you lunged left.
he lunged right.
you both smacked into the same doorframe and recoiled in pain.
“fuck.” you mumbled, rubbing your pretty head.
“shit, okay, that one’s on me.” he admitted, rubbing his shoulder. his pretty shoulder. that sweater looked good on him, by the way. yeah. hm. really good. but that didn’t fucking matter when he lunged again.
you screamed, slipped on a rug, and fell, only for minho to come in from the side and tackle seungmin directly into a glass table. the table shattered.
you stared.
they stared back.
“…go.” seungmin shook his head, waving you off.
you did not need to be told twice. behind you, minho yelled smth like “WHY ARE YOU LETTING HER GO?”
a crash. a thud.
then seungmin, very calmly: “because you’re pissing me off.”
you ran straight into han and felix arguing at the end of the hall.
“i said left.” han insisted, holding a crowbar upside down.
“you always say left.” felix argued, holding a taser and clearly forgetting how it worked.
you skidded to a stop.
all three of you froze.
you were panting. “can you both—”
felix lunged. han lunged. they lunged into each other. they crashed, arms everywhere, legs everywhere, clothes everywhere, the smell of men everywhere, tangled up, the taser going off uselessly into the air.
“STOP STABBING MY JACKET.” felix yelled.
“I THOUGHT YOU WERE HER.” han yelled back.
you stepped over them. “thank you.” you said sincerely, and ran.
you rounded a corner and slammed straight into chan, full chest to chest. you both stumbled back a step. he held you automatically, hands on your arms. you stared up at him. he stared down at you.
he almost smiled.
then han came sprinting in, tripped over nothing again, and took chan out at the knees.
“OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY.” han yelled, tangled in chan’s limbs. “I DIDN’T SEE YOU.”
seungmin and minho found you again. jeongin leaned on a wall, wiping dust off his knees. han just got up and felix came in late, and they tripped over each other again. chan just sighed at this point.
you backed toward the door, hands up.
then while getting up, felix slipped. took han down with him. again. they crashed into minho, who slammed into seungmin.
jeongin smiled. “DOMINOES!”
that was your chance to do something. something to even just slow these guys down, anything, bro. so, you did. when chan stood up finally, you lunged for him.
but like… that asshole just laughed in your face and twisted away easily, shoving you past him. “go.” he said. “you’re warmer when you keep moving.”
weirdo. but you ran again anyway, down a side corridor, thru a door and immediately ate shit. your foot caught on something, and you slid, palms burning, your pretty little skin they want to cut so bad just gone like that.
behind you, there was a collective “OOHHHH.”
you rolled your eyes. sighed. thought about just lying there because they would probably still miss even if you were completely still. you decided maybe not. so you scrambled up and ran again, swearing, adrenaline making everything feel fucking crazy. unreal. is this really happening?
you didn’t know how long you ran, time stopped somewhere around the third near death experience.
you went downstairs and upstairs and downstairs again, back and forth, hoping to find something that could save your life. when you were back at the stairs for the seventh time that night, you took the stairs three at a time, only to find han at the top, again, wheezing, holding a knife backwards.
“WAIT.” he said. “hold on—euh—my lung—”
you ran past him.
he tripped over his own foot and tumbled down the stairs alone, screaming “I’M FINE—I’M NOT FINE—TELL MY MOM—”
you didn’t look back. you burst into a bedroom and slammed the door, locking it just as something heavy hit the other side.
silence.
your chest heaved. sweat slicked your now skinless palms. you pressed your back to the door and slid down until you were sitting on the floor, brain finally catching up enough to think.
okay. door. big house. front door has keys. keys are on someone. they told you it’s at chan but he could have gave it to anyone since that.
that was bad.
you stood, looking through the room. window. too high. bathroom. connected. closet. tiny but usable. fuck yes. you hid in the closet just as the door opened.
footsteps. slow, manly. so confident in himself.
“you know, i really thought we had something.” jeongin. sweet. acting, obviously.
you clapped a hand over your mouth.
he paced the room, dragging something metal lightly along furniture. an axe, maybe.
“like, don’t get me wrong. i love the chase. big fan. but the eye contact earlier? intimate.”
you heard him stop in front of the closet.
“…you in there?”
you didn’t move.
he sighed. then, dropped to his knees. you could see him through the slats now, sprawled on the floor.
“y/n.”
you could hear your breathing. you could also hear his. which meant…
“come out.”
…he could hear yours too.
okay. fuck. your only option was to make a run for it. so, after taking a biiiiig big breath, you burst out of the closet and kicked him in the shoulder. was it successful? was it a good kick? who knows. it knocked him down, that’s what matters, but it was a pretty lame kick after all. he only went down because he wanted to, not because you actually kicked him good.
anyways, you ran again. out the room. then immediately skidded to a stop when seungmin opened a door in front of you.
he stepped aside immediately. “after you.” he said, gesturing inside.
you stared at him.
he stared back.
you could hear hyunjin make a noise, talking with changbin.
seungmin raised his brows. “i insist.”
he knew that you needed an escape route and this was your only option. you knew he knew.
you sighed. ran through it, and it slammed shut behind you. you could hear a snicker(his voice), then silence. maybe he left. maybe not.
the room you were in was darker. storage. boxes. is this place even owned by these guys? or do they just come here to… play?
you hid behind a shelf, crouching, heart in your ears.
okay. think.
front door. locked. too obvious. you needed keys. you needed a person.
but they were playing. this wasn’t about killing you quickly, it was about the fun. about testing themselves. about proving, again, that they were smarter, faster, better. the teamwork thrilled them, having prey thrilled them.
footsteps approached.
door opened. han stepped into the room, tripped, and fell into a stack of boxes. why always this guy?
“oh COME ON.” he groaned. “i wasn’t even chasing her!”
neither of you moved.
“…you okay?” you asked.
“yeah.” he said, looking up, nose bleeding. “yeah. you?”
“living the dream.”
he nodded. then, very gently, he pointed back towards the door. “they’re coming.” he whispered.
in the doorway, felix appeared, pointing at han. “dude. again?”
you took the chance and got out of your hiding place, quick, and bolted past them both.
felix gasped. “oh shit—sorry—sorry—”
han tried to follow, slipped again, and yelled: “WAIT FOR ME!”
a crash. a curse. someone else falling over him.
you ran down the hall toward what you hoped was the front of the house. behind you, shouting, laughter, whooping, bodies colliding, someone yelling “WHO LEFT THIS CHAIR HERE?” you rounded a corner and skidded to a stop in front of the front door. you tried the door. locked. you didn’t know where the keys are. your chest tightened. behind you, footsteps slowed. confident. chan, seungmin, minho, jeongin, closing in.
you turned around. the wall met your back hard enough to knock the air out of you.
“okay.” you said, breathless, girly, the prey they wanted you to be. “okay. this is—yeah. alright.”
the other four found you too. felix, panting. han, limping. hyunjin and changbin obviously not affected because they didn’t really take part of the chase. blocking off every possible exit.
chan didn’t take his eyes off you. “everyone good?” he asked, calm. so fucking calm. knowing he won.
“peachy.” jeongin said.
“bit winded.” felix added. “but spiritually fulfilled.”
changbin gave you an apologetic little wave. “sorry.”
then seungmin lunged.
you fought, harder than they expected, apparently, elbowing, kicking, swearing. but they were sure now, hands grabbing wrists, legs hooking yours, pressure applied. you went down. not slammed, though. controlled. that fucking pissed you off more.
seungmin had your arms pinned. minho had a knee on your thigh. chan crouched in front of you, looking down at your pretty face.
the second you were fully restrained, jeongin shrieked. “oh my GOD we got her!”
he leapt into felix’s arms. felix caught him, squealing back.
“we did it!” felix yelled.
they spun once. almost fell. han clapped wildly and then tripped into changbin, taking them both down.
you laid there, chest heaving, heart pounding, really feeling your body, not knowing what the fuck was happening. because they didn’t seem dangerous, but you knew they were.
chan tilted his head. “you ran well.”
“thanks.” you said.
jeongin crouched down to your face. “so. how you feeling?”
“fuck off.”
hyunjin tilted his pretty head, hands in his pockets. “you did really well.”
you forced yourself to breathe slower. think. keys. chan’s jacket pocket. right side. you’d seen the outline earlier when he caught one of the boys midfall.
jeongin tilted his head at you. “are you afraid? like, i’m actually asking, because i need to know what to do differently next time. are you afraid of death? did we make you feel like you’re going to die? how would you rate it out of ten?”
you sighed, looking down at the floor. “getting killed is, like, the last thing on my list right now.”
they paused.
seungmin grimaced. “yeah, no.”
“oh, no.” felix said, shaking his head
“dude.” minho murmured.
“we would never.” changbin whispered.
“ew.” han blurted, horrified.
you narrowed your eyes. “ew?”
“no—no—not ew you. i mean—fuck—you’re hot—shit—sorry—what i meant was—”
jeongin smacked the back of his head. “stop talking.”
seungmin pulled his mouth up. “we’re not… that evil.”
minho crossed his arms. “jesus.”
chan straightened slightly. “that’s not our thing.”
you watched the discomfort, the immediate correction, the way the tone shifted. interesting.
“relax.” you said, rolling your neck as much as the hold allowed. “i know.”
“thank you.” han said, sweating. “sorry. respectfully.”
“you’re fine.” you murmured.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
but something had changed, you saw it. that weird line you’d dropped, (half joke, half truth because it’s horrible that we have to live in a world like this), went somewhere they didn’t like. their version of evil had rules. sooo fucking weird ones, but still.
“okay. wait. wait.” you said.
…
“what.”
“i think i’m gonna throw up.”
“fuck—” changbin recoiled.
“not on me.” minho said, backing up.
“turn her head!” felix yelped.
jeongin scrambled backward on his hands and feet.
chan watched seungmin loosen his grip. “are you actually nauseous?”
“yeah.” you croaked, gagging for effect. “stress. adrenaline. it hit now that i’m still.”
hyunjin crouched beside you, studying your face. “you might want to give her space.”
“THANK you.” you gasped.
they got off you. you rolled to your side, clutching your stomach dramatically. and in that shuffle, arms moving, balance adjusting, you shoved your hand straight into chan’s jacket pocket. your fingers hit metal.
keys.
you grabbed them and curled them into your palm just as jeongin leaned back in. “you good?”
you scrambled to your knees, pushing past them, one hand over your mouth, the other clenched tight around the keys.
“don’t run.” chan warned.
you made eye contact with him.
and ran.
“FUCK.” seungmin yelled.
“GO GO GO.” han screamed, even though he was on the wrong side.
you sprinted down the hallway, heart about to explode, keys biting into your palm. behind you, footsteps. but now… less playful. more oh shit.
han tripped. felix ran into a wall. changbin yelled: “STAIRS—CUT HER OFF—” and jeongin was just shouting around for fun. just hootin n hollerin.
you ran down the hall.
behind you, hyunjin’s calm voice said: “don’t panic.” which was because they finally were.
you ran away from them, deep into the house again. you heard the footsteps disappear from behind you. good. good.
you slowed just enough to think. you couldn’t outrun eight of them forever.
chan and hyunjin were walking together on the halls. hyunjin had a small, neat folding knife now loose between his fingers. chan had taken a syringe with him. already prepped. yes, he can do a lot with only one syringe. his other hand kept brushing the empty space where the keys used to be.
he didn’t like that.
“she took them clean.” chan said.
“yeah. good hands.”
“you sound impressed.”
“i am.”
“you like her?”
hyunjin didn’t answer.
“if we lose her, we change locations.” chan said, ignoring that his earlier question didn’t get an answer. he already knew it.
hyunjin nodded. but there was something under it, for the first time, the outcome wasn’t certain. that was unusual for them, because they usually did really, really good at this. once someone was caught by them, there was no escape. you were the first one who lived to a second round. he found that interesting. and yeah, he might have started developing a tiny little crush on you, back when you two were just meeting up normally. so what? he’s allowed to!
jeongin moved alone. still with his axe that he’d twirled into familiarity. he swung it lightly as he walked. he checked corners, smiling. as if he was dancing.
“y/n.” he called, singsong. “be honest, was it the flirting? too much? i can dial it back. slightly.”
he stepped over a fallen chair.
“i just feel like we had chemistry.”
he grinned to himself. he loved this part, the story, the tension, the almost. he knew you were thinking now. they got a thinker. he loves that. ohohohoooo
he paused, listening. then grinned. “oh, you sneaky girl.”
seungmin had the fire poker again. holy shit??
he liked the chase because it stripped people down to instinct, survival. that’s what he respected.
“c’mon.” he murmured. “don’t go quiet on me.”
you were irritating him. he barely got irritated. ever.
changbin and minho moved together. changbin carried an injection case now, plus a heavy flashlight he could swing if needed. minho had a hunting knife.
they turned a corner. empty.
“she’s doing something.” minho realized.
changbin’s smile(that came upon his face while he was thinking about you, hehehe) faded. “oh.”
they heard a noise and both spun, only to slam into each other again.
“FOR FUCK’S SAKE.” minho snapped.
“shit.” changbin said, steadying the other guy by his shoulders. “let’s just go.”
you moved through hallways. your lungs burned, but your head was clear now. you slipped into a side room and crouched low, listening.
footsteps passed. voices echoed elsewhere. they’d spread too wide.
you waited, then moved when you judged safety.
back at the hyunjin chan duo, hyunjin stopped in the hallway. “she’s heading back.” he said quietly.
chan. followed his gaze toward the front of the house. “you sure?”
“yes.”
“how?”
“it’s what i’d do.”
meanwhile, at the front door han sat on the floor, back on the wall, holding a shovel. felix sat beside him on the other side of the door with a frying pan he absolutely did not need to be trusted with.
“…we guarding?” han asked.
felix looked at the door. looked at the hallway. looked back at the door.
“…yeah.” he decided.
they both nodded.
“you think she thinks i’m cute?” han asked, adjusting his grip on the shovel.
“bro. absolutely.”
“really?”
“yea, mate.”
they dapped each other up.
“if she makes it back here, i call saying something smooth.” felix said thoughtfully.
“what’s smooth?”
“i don’t know yet.”
while they talked, you grabbed a metal… something from a side table. and started walking back toward the front door.
“she definitely liked when i said she was hot.” han said.
“respectfully.” felix said.
“respectfully.” han looked away, then back at felix. “she’s gonna be so impressed when we catch her.”
“dude. literally.”
they fist bumped.
then, a loud sound came from down the hallway, and a metal object rolling fast across the floor toward them.
they screamed, then scrambled to their feet, immediately abandoning the door.
“dude. we’re gonna fucking die.” han cried.
felix grabbed his arm. “if y/n was here right now, she’d hold my hand.”
“yeah. she’d be so brave.”
“should we check?”
“no.”
“…we should get the others.”
“yes.”
they ran away from the door, deeper back into the house, yelling for backup.
the front door stood unguarded.
you waited three full seconds after their footsteps faded. then you moved. silent. you didn’t run, that was important. you didn’t want to make noise.
behind you, distant voices.
“FRONT DOOR!”
“THEY LEFT IT—”
you walked to the door quickly. put the key in. wrong key. tried another. wrong key. another. unlocked it. opened it.
now, you ran. you ran, and didn’t stop. you didn’t look back. already past the gate. past the trees. gone.
for the first time ever, they’d lost.
the boys regrouped at the front door. empty. door slightly open.
silence.
chan looked at the door. then at hyunjin, who stared at the gap, face blank. he felt respect. and relief.
seungmin looked at the lock. then at chan’s empty pocket. then back at the lock.
for a second, nobody spoke.
“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” minho said, sneering.
behind them, han and felix jogged in, out of breath and pale.
“okay.” felix panted. “so—update—there’s a hallway demon—”
they stopped when they saw everyone standing still, all backs turned to them.
felix looked around. “anyone else feel a breeze?”
chan walked to the door in three steps and shoved it open the rest of the way. empty driveway. dark trees. no you.
jeongin blinked. “…no.”
seungmin made a sound like someone had just run over his foot. “noooo.”
minho rubbed both hands down his face. “no no no no—”
jeongin looked at the ceiling. “oh that’s embarrassing. that’s so embarrassing for us.”
han gasped “shit, she did it!”
felix nodded. “i always believed in her.”
they high-fived.
every head turned.
“are you two serious right now?” seungmin snapped.
han immediately jumped into felix arms.
chan stepped back inside slowly and shut the door, quiet. too quiet. “no one moves.” he said.
seungmin was already halfway to the threshold, fire poker still in hand. “we can still see the road—”
chan grabbed his arm. hard. “i said no.”
seungmin yanked free. “she’s on foot.”
“she has a head start.”
jeongin crossed his arms, shifting his weight. “so we just—what—clap?”
“use your brain for once.” chan, voice low. “you’ll make mistakes.”
“oh, i’m sorry.” seungmin snapped. “did your pocket make a mistake?”
OHHHHH.
minho swore and kicked a chair across the room. it smashed into the wall. “THIS is why we don’t get cute.” he said. “this is why we don’t play with our food.”
chanbin winced. “okay, that phrase—”
“not the time.” seungmin cut in.
hyunjin leaned against a table, arms crossed, watching the boys.
seungmin looked at him, suspicious. the level of angry where he gets suspicious at anything. “you’re quiet.”
“thinking.”
“about?”
hyunjin didn’t answer.
“you liked her.” minho accused.
hyunjin’s eyes flicked to him, calm and flat. “irrelevant.”
“bullshit.”
chan stepped between them before it turned physical. “enough.”
“no, not enough.” jeongin shot back. “she got past eight of us. eight.”
“seven.” seungmin muttered. “i was close.”
“YOU HIT A CABINET.” changbin screeched.
felix, still holding han bridal style, raised a hand. “i think we should acknowledge that she was very good.”
everyone stared at him.
han nodded seriously. “and brave.”
minho looked like he might actually kill them. “put him down.”
felix gently set han on his feet.
han immediately pointed at minho. “your energy is aggressive.”
minho grabbed a glass off a table and hurled it into the fireplace. it shattered. “THIS is aggressive.”
“billy badass over there.” changbin murmured, crossing his huge arms.
minho didn’t hesitate to turn towards changbin and shove him. changbin shoved back automatically.
“don’t start.” chan warned.
too late. seungmin grabbed minho’s shoulder and pulled him back. minho shook him off. jeongin stepped between them, not to help, just to watch. “god, you’re all so emotional.” he muttered.
seungmin started toward the door again, fury radiating off him. “i’m going after her.”
now, chan didn’t just stop him but actually pushed him away by the chest. a confident, violent push. manly. frustrated. “no.”
seungmin rounded on him. “she’s RIGHT THERE.”
han raised his hand again. “i still think she likes me.”
everyone yelled at once: “SHUT UP.” “READ THE ROOM.” “YOU WERE AFRAID OF THE DARK.” “SHE HIT YOU WITH A BAT.” “YOU LEFT THE DOOR.”
“we were investigating a threat!” felix said defensively to the last one.
“you are the threat, you idiot!” seungmin barked, then grabbed the front of his own shirt and screamed into it.
minho kicked the wall.
chan exhaled through his nose, centering himself. “no chasing into the dark.” he said. “not like this.”
“she’s getting farther.” jeongin argued.
seungmin made a noise like something dying. chan folded his arms. thinking. hyunjin stared into the night air like he could still see the path you took.
behind them, han whispered to felix: “when we catch her, i’m gonna ask if she thinks my eyes are pretty.”
felix nodded seriously. “they are.”
eight dangerous men. outplayed. and every single one of them wanted you back.
so yeah. that’s what happened, like… two weeks ago now? yeah. about two weeks. now you’re living your life. you hadn’t told anyone. what would you even say? you decided to just leave it. process it. give yourself time to get over it.
now you are standing in line for coffee. life’s been fine since that after all, you deserve it. you slept. eventually. not well, but enough. you changed routines. new routes, new locks, pepper spray, therapy waitlist, the works. you tell yourself you’re fine.
your name gets called.
“hey.”
your stomach drops before your brain catches up. you don’t turn around. because you know that voice. so you grab your coffee and walk. behind you, footsteps.
“okay, so don’t freak out.” jeongin says.
you keep walking.
“that’s actually a terrible opener, sorry, ignore that.”
you cross the street. he crosses too. you don’t look at him. you don’t run. at least you try.
“you look good.” he adds.
“go away.” you say calmly.
“working on it.” he says, which is not how that phrase works.
you turn a corner toward a busier street. people. noise. couples. kids.
“no.” you say.
“i just want to talk.”
“no.”
“did you get a haircut?” he tries.
you stop dead and turn. “how long have you been following me?”
“today? or—”
“jeongin.”
he winces. “okay. today today? like twenty minutes. but not in a creepy way. i was building courage.”
you resume walking faster.
he matches it, breath puffing a little. “listen, i know we didn’t end on a great note.”
“you chased me with an axe.” you cross the street without looking. a car honks. jeongin grabs your sleeve and yanks you back just enough to keep you from getting hit.
you stare at him.
“i didn’t come to hurt you.” he says. “if that helps.”
you keep walking. he groans softly and follows. people passing by just see two hot twenty somethings having what looks like a mildly tense situationship talk. it’s kinda crazy that they have no idea what happened two weeks ago.
you walk faster. he matches it.
“you dropped something.” he blurts. when you give no reaction, he tugs at your sleeve. “really.” he says, pointing behind you.
“that only worked once.” you say, yanking your hand out his grip.
“yeah.” he sighs. “worth a shot.”
a florist stand is set up on the corner. without stopping, jeongin leans sideways, grabs a small bouquet, tosses a crumpled bill onto the table, and keeps moving. he shoves the flowers toward you.
you stare at them. then at him. you don’t take them. but you stop walking and finally look at him.
he looks… normal. hoodie. messy hair. no axe. no grin that clearly tells he’s in animal mode. just this pretty guy.
people move around you, annoyed at the sidewalk blockage.
“you have five seconds.” you say.
he nods, serious now. “okay. we’re not going to hurt you.”
you stare. you start walking again.
he follows. “the boys haven’t shut up about you.”
“that’s not flattering.”
“it kind of is.”
“i don’t know what you want. i’m not coming back.” you say.
“i know.”
“you can’t follow me.”
“already am.”
you reached your apartment building. this is bad. this is very bad. you stop again, turning to face him fully now. his eyes shine.
“we don’t want to kill you.” he says quietly.
you search for anything that could say he’s lying. you can’t find it.
“that doesn’t make you better.” you say.
“i know.”
“you’re still—”
“yeah.”
“…if you come near my place again, i call the cops.”
he nods immediately.
“if i see any of you, i run.”
“mhm.” he holds the flowers out again, then seems to think better of it and just sets them on the sidewalk between you. “i just needed you to see that i’m not… only that.”
“…you are that.” you say. you’re not even being mean, just honest. brutally honest.
“yeah.” he says.
you go inside without looking back. not caring about where will he go, when will he go, why will he go.
the next day, you change your route. different coffee shop. different street. hoodie up, headphones on, just really fucking trying to stay away from them in general. you’re in that coffee shop now. then you step out of the café with your drink, and nearly walk straight into a guy. you flinch back hard.
“whoa—sorry—sorry.” a voice says quickly.
you look up. it takes your brain a second. glasses. plain black frames. simple gray t-shirt that does absolutely nothing to hide the fact that this man is fucking fit.
changbin.
he gives you a small, awkward wave like you ran into each other and not like he… he found you. “hi.”
you just stare.
“i come in peace.” he adds, lifting both hands.
you close your eyes. “you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“okay. before you walk away—i deserve that—but just—hi.”
you glance around. public. morning rush. safe enough. “why are you here.”
he adjusts his glasses. “i just wanted to talk. like, normal talk. not chase talk.”
you sigh, and start walking. “you have two minutes before i start screaming.” that’s more time you’ve given jeongin, though.
he falls into step beside you immediately. “you could’ve called the cops.” he says after a moment. genuinely confused. “you still could.”
you look at him. “you don’t think i’ve thought about that?”
“i figured. but you didn’t.”
you sip your coffee, buying time. “you’d disappear before anyone got there.”
“…yeah.” he admits.
“and then what? i spend the rest of my life wondering if you’re gonna show up mad?”
he nods slowly. he can’t argue that.
“also, i don’t want to tell that story out loud. figured it would be the best for me if i just lived through it and got over it. eventually.” you add, quieter.
changbin nods “okay. yeah. that makes sense.”
you study him. he looks the same as in the house, almost friendly. that makes a question pop up in your head. “have you done that before?” you ask. “like. killing people.”
“yeah.”
“how many?”
he blows out a breath through his teeth. “i don’t keep a number.”
“and why?”
he takes a breath, thinking. actually thinking. “it’s not the killing part.” he says slowly. “not for me. that’s just… the end of it. it’s the before. i dunno. i like the teamwork. but that’s just me, ask the others if you want their version.”
you’re confused. “…did something happen in your past?”
he shrugs. “no. grew up rich. had friends. i have a great job. my mom calls me on sundays.”
you stare at him.
“i’m serious.” he says. “i’m just… like this.”
you hate how calmly he says it. “when did you start?”
“early twenties.”
“why didn’t you stop?”
he gives you a small, almost embarrassed smile. “i’m good at it.”
you don’t answer. a car horn blares down the street. someone laughs nearby. the world keeps going, oblivious. “you scared me.” you say.
“i know.”
“you still are.”
“i know.”
you swallow. you check the time on your phone. “i told jeongin i’d scream if any of you came close to me ever again.”
“i heard.”
“you got lucky.”
“i’m glad.”
a bit of silence.
you meet his eyes. “i don’t trust you.”
“you shouldn’t.”
“but you still came now. why? why can’t you leave me alone?”
he shrugs, small and helpless. “i liked talking to you in the kitchen. before we… started.”
ow. sounds bad. so bad that you take a step back. away from him. you’re scared.
“i don’t feel things the way other people do.” he says finally. he wanted to spit that out for a while now, he just couldn’t scrape the courage together. “it’s like everything’s gray unless it’s intense.”
you sigh. “…at least you’re honest.”
he nods. “i just… i wanted one interaction with you that wasn’t you running.”
you watch him. he’s still scary. “you got it.” you say. “now what.”
he shrugs. “now i go away.”
you study him. glasses slightly crooked. trying very hard not to look threatening. failing, because he looks like he could lift a car.
you almost smile. almost. “don’t follow me.” you say.
“i won’t.”
“tell the others.”
“i will.”
you start to walk off.
“hey.” he calls.
you turn, tired.
“you were really impressive.” he says. sincere. really.
you hold his gaze. “i know.”
then you leave him standing on the sidewalk, alone. alone with his horrible, evil soul. alone with this weird dumb crush he recently developed on you. alone with his biceps, flexing because he feels a lot and it just… happens when he feels a lot.
it’s the next day. normal day. sun’s out. people walking dogs. a delivery truck is parked. blablabla anything that says world goes on. you were paranoid this day, sure, but you survived so far. you’re currently locking your apartment building door after yourself so you could go grocery shopping when a voice behind you says:
“okay, don’t be mad.”
you close your eyes. slow inhale. you turn.
it’s felix. and this guy literally tried to shoot you once, you remember clearly, but he looks… perfect. perfect hair. expensive jacket. shoes that cost more than your phone. holding… a container?
you stare.
he smiles, so sweet. “i made you muffins.”
“…you what.”
“blueberry.” he says proudly.
you look at the container, suspicious. “i’m not eating that.”
he frowns a little. “that hurt my feelings.”
“you tried to kill me.”
“sorry.”
you rub your face. “why are you here.”
he shifts his weight. he’s nervous. it’s cute tho. “we voted.” he says.
“you VOTED.”
“yeah.”
“ON WHAT.”
“on not killing you.”
you just stare at him.
he brightens. “it was almost unanimous.”
“WHO voted no?”
“…minho.”
yoy try to step around him toward the street. he mirrors you accidentally.
“felix.”
he freezes. “yeah?”
“move.”
“oh. right. sorry.” he sidesteps so fast he almost falls off the curb.
“you cannot come here.” you say. calm. really hoping he’ll understand. “you cannot follow me. you cannot bake for me. do you understand how insane this is?”
he nods immediately. “yes.”
“then why are you here.”
he looks at the muffins. then at you. “okay. so. we— i— baked.” yes baby, we know. you told us already.
“i see that.”
“for you.”
“i gathered.”
he nods, satisfied that the point has been made.
you start walking. he starts walking. directly into a street sign. it’s loud.
he recoils. “ow.”
you pinch the bridge of your nose.
“is it bleeding?” he asks, pointing at his face, but he immediately goes cross eyed as you push his face away instead. his skin is warm. feels nice tbh. he blinks at you, unbothered. “you have strong hands.”
“go away.”
“okay.” he says.
he does not go away.
you reach the crosswalk and the light changes. felix steps forward without looking. a car honks.
you grab his hand and yank him back.
he stumbles into you.
“jesus.” you mutter, still holding his hand as you cross. “you’d be roadkill in five minutes.”
he looks down at your joined hands, his big eyes shining, absolutely taken aback by the fact that you would do this for him. well, all that until you drop his hand on the other side of the street.
“thanks.” he says cheerfully.
a man wearing a watch worth a month’s rent, carrying something he made for you that you won’t eat, who could absolutely overpower you, and instead just almost died to a car.
“don’t follow me.” you say.
“okay.” he says, still following.
you glance at him. “you’re unbelievably stupid.”
“thank you.” he says.
“that wasn’t—”
“i’ve been working on self-acceptance.”
pffft.
you stop. “felix, listen. i don’t want you guys here.”
he looks at you, tilting his pretty head in confusion.
“you scare me.” you clarify.
“oh.” he says quietly. that, he understood.
you point at the muffins. “those could be drugged.”
“they’re not!”
“i don’t know that.”
silence hangs between you. street noise fills it. someone laughs across the road. life just keeps going.
“i liked talking to you.” he says finally.
“you didn’t talk to me.” you reply. “you hunted me.”
“yeah. i’m sorry.”
you watch him. disappointed that something this beautiful can be this cruel. “you need to leave.”
he nods. but he doesn’t move yet. “do you…” he starts, then stops. tries again. “do you hate us?”
you don’t hesitate. “yes?” of fucking course bro???
his little brain absorbs that. shoulders drop a little. “okay.”
he holds out the muffins one last time, hopeful in the dumbest way possible.
you just look at him.
he lowers them.
“just go, felix. bye.”
“yeah. bye.”
he turns the wrong direction.
you grab his hood and spin him around. “that way.”
“right.” he says, walking off.
he makes it three steps. turns back. holds up the muffin container. “do you want—”
“no.”
“okay.”
he walks into a bike rack.
you watch him go. he looks beautiful.
you hate him.
you check to make sure he crosses the next street safely before you turn away.
that passed too. a few days later you are leaving a pharmacy in the afternoon, receipt crumpled in your fist, focusing on your surroundings now.
and across the street, leaning against a lamppost, is chan. he raised a hand, giving you a little wave, mouthing: you good?
you mouth back go away.
he nods once, then pushes off the pole and walks in the opposite direction. not chasing now. actually walking away.
then you’re in a grocery store, looking at pastas, deciding which one you want to eat tonight. a hand reaches past you and places the more expensive one in your cart.
you turn. it’s seungmin. black hoodie. baseball cap.
you immediately pull it back out. “no.”
he takes it. puts it back into the cart.
“no.”
back in.
“stop.”
it went on for a good five minutes.
at checkout, you unload your stuff, and when you’re about to pay, seungmin comes up behind you and wordlessly uses his card. do you process that in the head? no, only when he is already at the exit, hands in his pockets, not looking back.
he walks straight into the automatic door before it finishes opening. you hear the thud.
you rub your temples.
then you’re walking through the park because that’s the shorter way home. peaceful. sunlight. children playing. then the bush next to the sidewalk starts shaking.
you stop. you kick the bush. han tumbles out directly at your feet. face in dirt.
“…hi.” he says into the grass.
you look down at him. “were you hiding?”
he looks up at you, leaves in his hair, expression hopeful. “no.”
you start walking again. he scrambles up and follows, then trips on the sidewalk edge.
you catch his sleeve before he eats pavement. “use your brain.”
he nods seriously. “i keep meaning to.”
next time about days later, you see felix before he sees you. he’s staring into a store window, clearly confused by mannequins.
you walk past.
noticing that, he turns and his pretty little face lights up. “hi!”
“hi. don’t.”
“okay.”
he walks into a mailbox.
you only see hyunjin once, at a distance. not close enough to speak. just standing outside a train station, hands in his coat pockets, watching the crowd, not just you.
when your eyes meet, he doesn’t smile, just gives a small nod. then he leaves.
days after that it’s seungmin again. at night. parking lot. you only came with car because it was too far. you’re unlocking your car and a shadow leans against the hood.
“you’ve been avoiding me.” seungmin says, casual as hell, like he didn’t once swing a fire poker at your skull. “man.” he continues “small world, right?”
you turn, pepper spray in hand, and spray it directly into his eyes.
he screams, drops to his knees, clawing at his face. “OH MY GOD IT’S LIKE SATAN PISSED IN MY EYES—”
“stop finding me!” you yell.
he’s laughing through the pain. laughing. “you look good today.”
you drive off while he’s still swearing.
the next time minho follows you through a bookstore. keeps pretending to browse. picks up a book upside down. so you turn a corner and wait. he walks right into it. he also gets a taste of your pepper spray.
“SON OF A BITCH.” he chokes, doubling over between romance and self help. “you fucking—”
“YOU’RE STALKING ME.”
they find you in different places. weeks apart. or days apart. but they always come back.
something is clearly wrong with them. like, all eight are sick in the head. but it doesn’t seem like they’re following you around to kill you. they talk too long. they get distracted. they bring you things. they absolutely eat shit every time you fight back. and you do fight back. diva.
minho and seungmin have been pepper sprayed so many times they flinch when you reach into your bag. jeongin tries every possible pickup line on you. han once tried to sneak up on you and got hit in the face with your tote bag and apologized.
it’s ike they’re still in hunting mode. after you. into you. but now they’re… unsure. they don’t seem to want you dead anymore. they just… want you around now. or to just be around you, at least.
it’s the middle of the night right now. you’re in old sweatpants, hair a mess, waiting for the food you ordered. and soon enough, the doorbell rings. you shuffle over and look through the peephole for a second. delivery uniform. cap. bag. seems normal. so you open the door.
it’s felix. smiling ear to ear, holding your takeout, wearing the uniform jacket and cap. “hi!”
“absolutely not.” you say, already closing the door.
he sticks his foot in. “wait, wait—don’t slam it, the soup’ll spill—”
that’s when you see it, behind him, in the hallway. a man on the floor. the delivery uniform pants still on him, only his jacket gone, the one on felix right now. there’s blood under the man.
your stomach drops. your organs drop. after staring for about a minute, you slowly look back at felix. “…is that—”
“okay.” he says quickly. “before you freak out—”
“BEFORE I FREAK OUT?? YOU KILLED THE DELIVERY GUY?!”
jeongin leans into view, coming next to felix, hands in pockets. “it wasn’t him who killed the guy.”
you point wildly, not even concerned about the fact that there’s two of them now. “THAT IS A PERSON ON THE FLOOR.”
“yeah but like…” minho says, stepping into the doorframe, arm around felix’s shoulders now. “he’s not using the uniform anymore.”
your mouth opens. nothing comes out.
and then, without a word, chan walks past you. into your home. into your fucking home. felix shrugs and follows him. the other six too, actually taking their shoes off.
YOU ARE STILL HOLDING THE DOOR. THEY JUST WALK AROUND YOU.
“what—no—no—no—” you manage, backing up as they enter.
han closes the door gently behind them. “heat’s nice in here.” he says.
hyunjin looks at you and mutters a quiet but confident “hi” before going further into your living room.
changbin walks past you and spins slowly, taking in the room. “oh this is cute. this is very you.”
“YOU BROUGHT A CORPSE TO MY DOOR.” you choke.
felix is still holding the food bag. “your noodles are getting cold.” he says softly.
you make a noise that doesn’t exist in human language. (imagine something close to a windows crash sound)
seungmin tosses his jacket over a chair. there’s a smear of blood on his sleeve.
you gag.
he notices. “oh, relax. it’s mostly the delivery guy’s.”
“OH MY GOD.”
“hey, where’s the hand soap?” han asks, already at your kitchen sink, washing blood off his fingers.
you stare at the red swirling down your drain.
jeongin flops onto your couch. “i like what you did with the lighting in here. mood.”
“GET OUT.” you say, voice coming back in bursts. “GET—OUT—OF—MY—APARTMENT.”
they all look at you. it’s obvious that they don’t really understand what’s your problem.
chan gestures toward the takeout bag. “eat first.”
“I DON’T WANT THE FOOD.”
felix looks devastated. “you picked the combo meal…”
changbin is by your bookshelf now. “you alphabetized? that’s hot.”
“a— i— eugh— what is HAPPENING.”
minho leans against the wall. “okay, in our defense—”
“there is NO DEFENSE.”
“—we didn’t come to kill you.”
“YOU’RE TRACKING BLOOD ON MY FLOOR.”
they all look down.
han lifts his foot. “…shit.”
jeongin points at him. “mop boy.”
han salutes and grabs paper towels.
“listen.” chan says, turning to be in front of you. “we just wanted to see you.”
you stare at him. then at the door. “…you couldn’t text?” you ask hoarsely.
eight grown ass serial killer men exchange glances.
jeongin shrugs. “didn’t have your number.” that’s alright sweetie, not like you can’t find a phone number when you can find an address perfectly. not like you can’t ask for it from HYUNJIN.
you make another sound.
changbin steps closer, hands up, gentle. “okay, hey. we know this looks bad.”
“LOOKS—”
“bad phrasing.” he admits.
seungmin rubs the back of his neck. “we didn’t plan the delivery guy part.”
“that’s WORSE.” you sag against the wall. “you have got to be shitting me.” you whisper to yourself. then you look at them. all of them. in your apartment. on your couch. at your sink. in your life. “out.”
they don’t move.
jeongin tilts his head. “we just got here—”
“OUT.”
changbin actually flinches.
seungmin raises his hands. “okay, volume—”
“you killed someone. again, i assume. and brought it to my DOOR. do you understand how fucking insane that is?”
silence.
“i can’t sleep normally. i check reflections everywhere. i don’t walk with headphones anymore. do you get that? do you get what you did to my brain? i couldn’t function for weeks. every sound was footsteps. every guy walking behind me was one of you. i have three different hiding spots in my own apartment.”
han raises a hand slightly. “this one’s not great.”
“NO IT IS NOT GREAT.”
felix looks genuinely confused. “we didn’t think about… after.”
“YEAH. THAT’S THE PROBLEM. you don’t think about after. you don’t think about people being PEOPLE. you think about adrenaline and teamwork and your little murder club hangouts.”
changbin crosses his arms. “okay when you say it like that—”
“how else is there to say it??” you gesture wildly at the room.
they don’t look guilty. they look… attentive. they’re paying attention. trying to understand you.
you swallow. “no, seriously. i want to know. when you followed me for weeks? when you showed up at my job? when i thought every man walking behind me was about to grab me? that was fun for you?”
seungmin shrugs. “engaging.”
you grab the nearest thing, a throw pillow, and launch it at his face. then relax your shoulders and sigh. “i am a person. with a nervous system. i had a normal life before you guys.”
there’s a long pause.
felix raises a hand slightly. “your food is still warm.”
“READ THE ROOM.”
he lowers it.
han whispers to him: “she’s upset-upset.”
“no shit.” you snap.
chan has his hands on his hips. “you’re saying we made you paranoid and ruined your life.”
you stare. “…are you fucking for real right now.”
“trying to understand the damage.”
“DAMAGE???”
jeongin leans forward on the couch, elbows on knees. “we don’t feel fear like that, or guilt the way you do.”
“yeah, i noticed.”
“but we’re not dumb.” hyunjin says quietly.
your eyes flick to him.
he meets them. calm. honest in a deeply unsettling way. “we know we changed your life. we can see the behavioral shifts. we know what we did. we just don’t care.“
you blink. does this fucking asshole hear himself.
he continues. “and what you’re saying is that our continued presence equals harm.”
you blink “yes.”
“even without immediate violence.”
“YES.”
he nods once. processing. filing it somewhere in his terrifyingly organized brain.
chan takes over. “we’re saying, we understand the outcome. even if we don’t experience the emotion attached.”
changbin rubs his neck. “we didn’t think about the after. usually there isn’t one.”
you let that sit. “yeah.” you say. “because people die.”
quiet.
han finally says, softly: “you didn’t.”
you look at him. “no. i didn’t. and now i have to live with what you did.”
there’s a long silence.
then jeongin claps his hands once. “so. solution. anyone? ideas?”
you point at him without looking. “you are on thin fucking ice.”
he mimes zipping his mouth.
seungmin rubs his face. “okay, but question.”
you glare.
“when we stopped trying to actually kill you… that didn’t help?”
you just stare at him. “…you hear yourself, right?”
he thinks about it. “…yeah.”
felix looks like he’s actually using his brain for once. “we thought… not finishing the job was growth.”
“that is the lowest bar i have ever heard in my LIFE.”
but you see, the thing is, this is a system error for them. you’re not prey right now. you’re not running. you’re furious, first of all. human. loud. hurt. they don’t know this game. they only know the killing and manipulating one, but they want to have you. they just… don’t know how to get you.
chan clears his throat. “so the correct action would be… removal of our presence.”
“yes.”
“immediately.”
“so fucking immediately.”
“we don’t want to kill you.” minho cuts in, hoping that this saves their situation a bit.
“yeah, you told me a hundred times already. your point?” you ask
“we like you.”
you make a face like you bit into soap. “that is not how liking works.”
“for you.” he agrees.
chan exhales. decisive. “we adjust behavior.”
you cross your arms. “into WHAT?”
silence.
felix brightens. “dinner?”
you stare at him.
han nods eagerly.
you look around the room at eight serial killers in your living space, one of them holding a roll of paper towels covered in someone else’s blood. “…dinner.”
changbin shrugs. “low pressure environment. public. you feel safer. we practice acting normal.”
minho adds: “exposure therapy. for all parties.”
“i just gave a speech about how you ruined my sense of safety.” you whisper, voice defeated.
hyunjin nods. “we heard you.”
“and you want to take me to DINNER.”
“yes.”
“why.”
he doesn’t hesitate. “because harming you is now counterproductive to the thing we want.”
you are actually taken aback by the words this guy uses. “…which is?”
he holds your gaze.
“you.”
the room goes quiet.
then han whispers to felix, way too loud: “is this flirting?”
“yeah.” felix whispers back. “i think this is the good kind.”
you drag a hand down your face. “…get the fuck out of my apartment.”
they stand, immediately obedient. getting their shoes on and whatnot.
changbin gives you a small wave. “we’ll text?”
“you do not have my number.”
jeongin points at hyunjin. “he’ll give it to us.”
“I WILL CALL THE POLICE.”
they walk out.
han pauses at the door. “sorry about the sink.”
door closes. silence. your apartment is a disaster. your life is worse.
but… they looked weirdly sincere, actually. and they were.
soon, they stopped showing up unannounced. mostly. they also stopped bringing weapons into your line of sight. mostly. and they stopped treating you like prey. completely.
how were they about you, comes the question.
obsessed.
and they did not process attachment normally. if they processed it. they did not understand love. but they understood preference, and if you told them enough times, then eventually they understood your emotions too. well, not understood, but they processed the fact that you feel the way you feel and they can do something about it if they actually try.
han once fell down an entire staircase because someone said your name and he turned too fast. chan pretended he wasn’t competitive about board games and then absolutely lost his mind over monopoly. hyunjin brought you flowers all the time. you learned that seungmin always had to sleep on his stomach.
you started to understand the function of them. not excuse, no. absolutely not. just understand and process the fact that they’re how they are. and you couldn’t do shit about it, and you couldn’t get rid of them now. so you lived with it.
they still killed, of course. that was one of the few things that brought them happiness in life, so you couldn’t expect them to stop doing it. they didn’t kill around you, though.
but you knew they still did it. and you could feel when the tension built when they haven’t hurt anybody in a long time.
it also… what’s the right word, scared? impressed? took you aback? could be either, what matters is that when you saw that all of them had it in them, even han and felix who behaved like total angels throughout the day, it… upset you. or just moved something in you, seeing that each of them has that empty place where fear or guilt or empathy should go.
they didn’t kill out of anger. it was release. their brains were wired wrong. thrill, control, mastery, stimulation, those hit the reward centers. violence scratched an itch they couldn’t reach any other way.
and after, they were calmer. lighter, like they’d gone for a run. when they were satisfied with themselves, they tried to tell you about it. you always stopped them, because you did NOT need to hear the horrible things they did. no matter how much they wanted to brag about it, how much they wanted to make you proud.
you weren’t safe in the world, but you were weirdly safe with them. and they would have died for you.
but you had to set rules. actual rules. “do not follow me into bathrooms.” “do not threaten my coworkers.” “do not kill anyone within a five-mile emotional radius of me.” the basics. and they tried. god, they tried. but they didn’t really… do well.
once you opened your door to seungmin at one in the morning, and he stood there, breathing a little heavy, COVERED in blood.
you just stared.
he stared back.
“…you good?” he asked.
“are you good??”
“oh. yeah. not mine.”
you almost slammed the door. he stopped it with a hand, but gently. always that now.
“didn’t come here for that.” he said.
“for what, seungmin, WHAT possible reason makes this a normal social call.”
he shrugged. “adrenaline crash. didn’t wanna be alone.”
that did something weird to your chest. not forgiving, just… information. because you realized that now they wanted you. your company, your voice, your hands. and it felt good.
anyways, you told him to take a shower, then you let him hang out with you.
they also fought each other more than they ever fought you.
once minho and jeongin, two extremely capable men mind you, actually went for each other’s throats in your kitchen while hyunjin and chan tried to separate them.
you yelled at them then. they paused and looked at you.
jeongin, bleeding from the lip, grinned. but like in that hot way. “sorry.”
“take it outside if you’re gonna be like this.” you told them.
“fair.” chan said, dragging minho back by the collar.
you weren’t scared of them like prey anymore. you were scared of the capacity. the strength. the speed. the way the air changed when something in them flipped.
you’d seen what they could do, you just weren’t the target now.
they were on your dick constantly, though. emotionally. socially. existentially. texting wasn’t their thing, but presence was. which meant they showed up unannounced a lot. but the reason for that was that they didn’t want to lose access to you, to be honest. didn’t like the thought of that.
one night you opened the door to changbin. he told you he was going to come over later. well, it was late. around midnight.
when he saw you, his eyes lit up, and wrapped you in the warmest, most affectionate, full-body hug of your life.
you froze.
because he was sticky.
wet sleeve. iron smell. your cheek against his skin. your hands touching the back of his shirt.
he squeezed tighter, cheek against your hair. “missed you.”
you pulled back.
looked down.
this boy was covered in blood.
he smiled, soft, relieved. “hi.”
you shoved back, stumbling, hand over your mouth, already shaking your head like that would stop it. you barely made it to the sink before you threw up in it.
from the hallway, jeongin yelled: “did you forget again??”
“I GOT EXCITED.”
hyunjin was the only one who followed you then, already grabbing a towel, turning on the sink. he didn’t look at changbin, and he didn’t look at the blood. he looked at you. “i’ve got you. you’re okay. breathe.”
they kept forgetting what you were. alive. normal. human. that for you it was a body, a person, a life.
it wasn’t the only time, of fucking course. they’d be loose, relaxed, calm. you’d be staring at hands that had done something irreversible two hours ago. there were a few nights like that, a sleeve not changed, a stain not noticed, you throwing up in your own kitchen while eight men who could disassemble a human being panicked because they’d upset you.
not because they felt guilt like you did. because they’d hurt something important in the environment. you. you, who sometimes made it to the sink, sometimes didn’t.
they did learn, though. slowly. painfully. they didn’t feel what you felt, but they learned it mattered. which, for them, was the closest thing to empathy available in the system.
you fell asleep on the couch once while they were over. you didn’t mean to. how could you mean to, when you knew what they were capable of?
and you woke up pinned. well, luckily not trapped, just surrounded. han was hugging your ankle. felix was using your shoulder as a pillow. changbin had an arm across your middle. jeongin was half off the couch but anyways. seungmin pretended he wasn’t involved but his foot was hooked under your leg.
they didn’t experience comfort like most people did. but proximity? pressure? familiar scent? that, they liked.
they were really, really glad that you survived them. and because of that, somewhere in their broken little predator brains, you became home. and what do predators do? bring things home.
once han showed up beaming, holding something behind his back.
“i got you flowers.” he said.
you blinked. that was… new.
he revealed it.
you stared.
it was technically arranged like a bouquet. the only problem was that… they were human lower arms. a lot of them. like flowers. just… arms.
you made a noise. you looked away, then back at it, then had to look away again.
“i thought it was romantic.” he said, crushed.
“honey, i appreciate that, but—“ you gagged. held the doorframe. teared up.
he watched you throw up then. patted your back after.
felix once brought you a wallet because “you’re always losing yours.”
you opened it. immediately closed it. “felix.”
“yeah?”
“return that.”
chan was… fucking brutal. he didn’t bring objects. he brought information.
“found a guy who’d been stalking women in your area.” he said once.
you went cold. “…what did you do.”
he met your eyes calmly. “took care of him, of course.”
you didn’t know whether to scream or say thank you. this one wasn’t bad, actually. you just had to sit down for a minute.
they were not house trained though, not even a little. one time you caught seungmin about to piss in your giant houseplant.
“seungmin.” you sighed.
he froze midzip. “…yeah?”
“if you water that plant with your BODY i will end you.”
“okay, okay.” he said, offended. “god. boundaries.”
felix once wiped his hands on your curtains. han sat on your coffee table. minho had to be told three separate times that knives did not belong “wherever feels right.” changbin once tried to “air out” your apartment by opening every window during winter.
and jeongin was just really spontaneous in general. if a guy talked to you, he would insert himself into the conversation, no matter what. “bro.” he’d say, arm slung over the stranger’s shoulders. “i love your confidence. truly. quick question, how attached are you to having kneecaps?”
you hit him. he’d grin. the stranger would evaporate.
hyunjin was the only one who got you normal gifts. they were… brutally expensive, yeah, and you had no idea where he had that kind of money from, but you appreciated every gift from him.
and oh my fucking god, the mailman. felix hated the mailman. for no reason. the man was fifty something and friendly. still, every time the mail arrived, felix would appear at your window, talking bout sum “he’s back.” ???
“felix, that’s his job.”
“yeah but why is he always here?”
“because i live here. that’s how mail works.”
the suspicion remained.
but beneath all the insanity, the red flags, the daily reminder that they could bring a corpse to your doorstep any day, they were sincere. they never played with your feelings. never lied about what they were. never pretended.
they just… adjusted their behavior around one central rule, which was not to lose you. to keep you safe, even if they didn’t understand why they wanted to keep you so safe. or why did you find so many things they did wrong.
you had, at one point, physically grabbed felix by the hair and yanked him backward because he was halfway out your front door, whispering “i just wanna talk to him.” about the mailman.
“NO.” you barked, fist in his hair.
“he’s BEEN HERE THREE TIMES THIS WEEK.” felix insisted.
“THAT IS HOW MAIL WORKS.”
he did not agree with you.
changbin loved cheek kisses. loved them. unfortunately, changbin also had a chronic issue where he just… forgot he was holding things. knife. wrench. crowbar. gun.
you’d feel a gentle kiss on your cheek and open your eyes to see cold steel six inches from your face.
“baby.” you’d say.
“oh, shit.” weapon would go on the table like car keys. “sorry.” he’d say, and kiss your other cheek, now technically unarmed.
then once you mentioned to hyunjin that you were cold and he wordlessly took off his jacket. it had a suspicious stain. he saw you notice.
“…i’ll get another one.” he said immediately.
because he really didn’t want you to be cold. not like he understood what your problem was with a little blood, but alright. anything for you.
now that i’m getting carried away with the stories, i’ll tell you that han did not understand personal space.
for an example, if you scolded him? immediate cling. you’d finish saying “you cannot threaten the barista for writing my name wrong” and suddenly he’d be attached to your side, rubbing his face into you, arms around your shoulders, chin on your head.
“okay, but we’re good though, right?”
“sweetie, i’m trying to pay.”
he’d nod against your hair, not moving. that went on for twelve minutes until a woman asked if he was concussed.
they clung like that a lot, they didn’t understand a lot, they acted up a lot, they hated a lot, but they loved one thing.
you.
they didn’t understand jealousy as an emotion. they understood it as something wrong with their insticts, and you in danger. how did that make sense? it didn’t. it just sounded horrible. because it was. but it was also the most sincere attachment they were capable of.
you were still scared sometimes, still human, compared to them(they’re literally almost not human in their senses). still deeply aware of what they were, and reminded of it a lot of times, of course.
but they’d learned one thing with absolute certainty.
you were not a victim anymore, you were something new to them, to their lives, something…. let’s say home.
and they were trying, badly, incorrectly, concerningly, to deserve to be there.
ɞ . abstract. they’re used to sharing their lives with the world, but they aren't interested in sharing you. eight times the members reminded a stranger exactly where the line was drawn.
ɞ . warnings / tags. fluff. suggestive. jealous!skz. established relationship. possessive & territorial behavior. intimidation of others. unwanted attention/harassment. encroachment on personal space. mentions of alcohol/drinking.
BANG CHAN
the studio was crowded, way more crowded than it usually was during a late-night tracking session. you were perched on the edge of the leather sofa, tucked into the corner with a drink in your hand, while the rest of the guys milled around. it was supposed to be a low-key wrap party for the new album, but some of the producers had brought friends, and the room felt small.
chan was across the room, leaning over the console with changbin and a couple of senior engineers. he looked good—focused, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, a pencil tucked behind his ear—but you could tell he was keeping one eye on the door and one eye on you. he always did that. he called it being a good host, but you knew it was just his nature to keep track of his people.
"so, how long have you known the group?"
you blinked, pulling your gaze away from chan to look at the guy who had just sat down next to you. he was one of the guest track-makers, someone you’d seen a few times but never really spoken to. he was leaning in close, his arm draped over the back of the sofa, effectively carving out a little bubble for the two of you.
"oh, a long time," you said, offering a polite smile. "i’ve been friends with chan since before the debut."
"lucky guy," he chuckled, his eyes scanning your face in a way that felt a little too lingering. "i can see why he keeps you around. you’ve got a really great energy." he introduces himself, giving you some name that you can't recall. can't bother to.
he didn't pull back. if anything, he shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. you tried to shift subtly, but the sofa was deep, and there wasn't much room to move. "thanks," you murmured, taking a sip of your drink to avoid further conversation.
"you know," he continued, lowering his voice to a tone that was definitely meant to be intimate. "we’re headed to an after-party at a club nearby in about twenty minutes. chan’s probably going to stay here and obsess over the master tracks for another five hours. you should come with us. i'd love to actually get to know you without all this noise."
he reached out then, his fingers grazing your forearm as if to emphasize the invitation.
before you could even open your mouth to decline, the atmosphere in the room shifted. you didn't even have to look up to know chan had noticed. you could feel the weight of his stare from across the room.
a second later, the heavy footsteps approached. chan didn't walk over; he converged.
"everything okay here?"
chan’s voice was low, smooth as silk but with a jagged edge underneath that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. he didn't wait for an answer. he stepped right into the narrow space between the coffee table and the couch, placing a firm, heavy hand on your shoulder. his thumb rubbed against the base of your neck in a slow, possessive rhythm.
the man pulled his hand back quickly, clearing his throat. "oh, yeah. just inviting your friend here to the after-party. you’re probably too busy to go, right?"
chan tilted his head, a small, tight smile playing on his lips that didn't reach his eyes. he looked incredibly calm, but the grip on your shoulder tightened just enough for you to feel the tension vibrating through him.
"actually," chan said, his voice dropping an octave, sounding like that deep tone he got when he was serious. "we have our own plans. and i’m never too busy for her."
he looked down at you then, his expression softening for a split second before he cut his eyes back to the other man. the look was icy—a clear, unspoken warning that said you're overstepping.
"is that right?" he stammered, looking between the two of you. "i didn't realize... i mean, i thought you guys were just..."
"we're a lot of things," chan interrupted, his voice steady. "but available isn't one of them. you should probably go find your group, man. i think they're leaving."
it wasn't a suggestion. he got the message, mulling out a quick "right, see ya" before making a beeline for the door.
the moment he was gone, the room seemed to regain its oxygen. chan didn't move his hand. he let out a long, ragged exhale, his shoulders finally dropping from their defensive hunch. he turned toward you, his eyes dark and swirling with a mix of leftover adrenaline and something that looked a lot like guilt.
"sorry," he muttered, though he didn't sound particularly sorry. "he was being... a lot."
"channie," you said softly, reaching up to cover his hand with yours. "were you jealous?" you don't bother to hide the teasing lilt in your voice.
he let out a dry, sheepish laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. he looked away for a moment, watching the door where the guy had disappeared. "was it that obvious?"
"you looked like you were about to growl," you giggle.
chan stepped closer, moving until he was standing between your knees, his presence completely enveloping you. he leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes searching your face with an intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs.
"i don't like the way he was looking at you," he confessed, his voice a rough whisper. "and i definitely didn't like him touching you. i know i shouldn't be so... yeah. i know you can handle yourself."
he paused, his fingers sliding up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing your lower lip.
"but the thought of someone else taking you away from here—even for an hour? i can't handle it. you're the only thing in this room that keeps me sane, okay? i'm selfish. i want you right where i can see you."
you smiled, pulling him down by his collar until your foreheads rested together. "i wasn't going anywhere, channie. i like it right here."
he hummed, a deep sound in his chest, and finally let out a real smile—the one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. "good. because i’m done with work for the night. let’s get out of here before someone else tries to talk to you."
he pulled you up from the sofa, his fingers interlacing tightly with yours, refusing to let go even as he grabbed his jacket. he led you out of the studio, his body positioned slightly in front of yours, a silent shield against the rest of the world.
LEE KNOW
the dance studio was freezing, the air conditioning humming a low, mechanical tune that usually helped minho focus. but today, his focus was completely shot. he was leaning against the mirrored wall, a towel draped over his shoulders, watching you talk to one of the new backup dancers near the sound system.
minho didn't do loud jealousy. he didn't storm over or start a scene. he was more surgical than that. he just watched, his eyes narrowed, tracking every movement.
the guy—some kid who was way too confident for his first week—was laughing, leaning a little too close to you. he reached out to adjust the strap of your bag that was slipping off your shoulder, his fingers lingering on your skin a second too long.
you were just being friendly, smiling at his jokes, but minho’s jaw tightened. he felt that familiar, sharp prickle of irritation. he hated when people didn't know their boundaries, especially when those boundaries involved you.
"so, you're here every tuesday?" the dancer asked, his voice echoing in the quiet room. "maybe i could take you to that cafe downstairs after we wrap? i heard their lattes are actually decent. or, you know, we could always go anywhere else, too."
minho didn't wait for you to answer. he pushed off the wall, his sneakers squeaking sharply against the wood floor. the sound was intentional.
he didn't say a word as he walked over. he simply stepped into your space, sliding his arm around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. it wasn't a gentle hug; it was a firm, grounding weight that made it very clear where you belonged.
the dancer jumped slightly, his eyes widening as he looked up—and up—at minho.
"she’s busy," minho said. his voice was flat, devoid of any emotion, which was always when he was the most dangerous. he didn't look at the guy; he just stared at your reflection in the mirror across the room, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder.
"oh, i—we were just talking about coffee," the guy stammered, his confidence evaporating under minho’s cold gaze.
"get your own coffee," minho replied, his tone clipped. "and get back to the floor. chan wants to run the bridge again in five minutes. don't be late."
it was a dismissal, plain and simple. the guy scrambled away, practically tripping over his own feet to get to the other side of the room.
the second he was gone, minho’s grip relaxed slightly, but he didn't let go. he turned you around in his arms, his expression still unreadable, though his ears were tinged with a faint, stubborn pink.
"you're scary when you do that," you whispered, reaching up to smooth the stray hairs on his forehead.
"i wasn't doing anything," he mumbled, looking away. "he was just annoying. talking too much."
"he was just asking for coffee, minnie."
minho’s eyes flicked back to yours, sharp and intense. "i don't care what he was asking for. he was touching you. i don't like it."
he let out a small, frustrated huff, his fingers digging into the fabric of your hoodie. minho wasn't big on emotional confessions, but in the quiet of the studio, with the rest of the members occupied at the far end, he let the mask slip just a fraction.
"i know i’m difficult," he said, his voice dropping so low you had to lean in to hear him. "i know i don't say the right things all the time. but you're mine. and i’m not good at sharing."
it was the closest you’d get to an 'i love you' in a moment like this—a raw, possessive honesty that felt more real than any flowery speech.
"i'm not going anywhere," you promised, leaning your head against his chest. "you know that."
"i do," he whispered, finally letting a small, smug smirk tug at the corner of his mouth. he pressed a quick, firm kiss to the top of your head before pulling away, his usual cool exterior snapping back into place. "now go sit down. you’re distracting me, and if i mess up this choreo, i’m blaming you."
he swatted your shoulder playfully, ushering you back to the bench, but as he walked back to the center of the floor, he caught the eye of the new dancer.
minho didn't say anything, but the look he gave him—cold, steady, and utterly territorial—made sure the kid didn't look your way for the rest of the afternoon.
CHANGBIN
the gym was mostly empty, the rhythmic thud of weights hitting the rubber mats the only thing breaking the silence. changbin loved this time of night—the overhead lights were dimmed, and he could actually breathe without people hovering.
he was currently finishing a set on the bench press, his muscles strained and glistening under the low light, while you sat nearby on a weight bench, scrolling through your phone and occasionally cheering him on.
everything was fine until a guy from the late-shift training staff wandered over. he was big, almost as big as changbin, and he had that swagger of someone who knew exactly how much he could lift.
"hey, mind if i hop in for a set?" the guy asked, but he wasn't looking at changbin. he was looking at you.
changbin sat up, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. he didn't miss the way the trainer’s eyes dragged over you, or the way he puffed out his chest a little more as he stepped into your peripheral vision.
"just finished," changbin said, his voice coming out a bit rougher than usual. he didn't stand up yet; he just sat there, arms resting on his knees, watching.
"cool, cool," the guy said, turning fully toward you. "i haven't seen you around here before. you a member or just lucky enough to watch the show?" he flashed a grin that was clearly meant to be charming, leaning one hand against the rack right next to your head.
you looked up, giving him a small, polite nod. "i'm just waiting for him to finish."
"well, if you ever get bored of waiting, i'm usually here around this time. i could show you a few things. you look like you've got good potential for some real strength training." he chuckled, his voice dropping into a lower register.
he didn't move his hand. he stayed leaning over you, his shadow completely covering where you sat.
changbin didn't say anything at first. he just stood up. slow. deliberate.
when changbin stood, he looked massive. the pump from his workout made him look twice his usual size, and the intensity in his dark eyes was enough to make the air in the room feel heavy. he walked over, not stopping until he was standing directly behind you, his presence looming like a mountain.
he didn't shove the guy. he didn't have to. he just reached out and placed a heavy, solid hand on the back of your neck, his fingers tangling slightly in your hair. it was a grounding, heavy touch—one that claimed every inch of the space around you.
"she’s good," changbin said, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards. "she’s got the best trainer in the city. she doesn't need another one."
mark’s smile faltered. he looked at changbin, then at the way changbin’s hand was draped over you, his thick arm practically acting as a barrier. the power dynamic in the room shifted instantly.
"oh, yeah, no doubt," he stammered, taking a half-step back. "just being friendly, man. no harm meant."
"right. friendly," changbin repeated, his voice dry. he didn't blink. he just stared until the guy started to look physically uncomfortable. "we're done here anyway. go ahead and take the bench. it’s all yours."
mark didn't stay to chat. he muttered something about a good workout and practically scrambled to the other side of the gym.
changbin let out a sharp, hot breath. the tension in his jaw didn't fade immediately. he looked down at you, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, his expression a mix of irritation and something softer that he tried to hide behind a scowl.
"you're all red," you teased gently, reaching up to touch his arm. "was he that bothering?"
changbin grunted, finally sitting back down next to you, though he kept his arm draped over your shoulders, pulling you firmly against his side. "i don't like it. i don't like the way he was hovering. like he was waiting for me to look away for one second."
"binnie, i wasn't going to go anywhere with him."
he looked at his lap, his fingers subconsciously flexing. "i know that. i do. but..." he trailed off, his voice losing its aggressive edge and turning into something much more vulnerable. "it’s just... i work so hard to be strong, to be someone you can rely on. and then some guy walks up and acts like he can just talk to you like that? it pisses me off."
he turned his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck for a second, his breath hot against your skin. changbin was all bravado and muscle on the outside, but with you, he was always just a guy who was terrified of losing the one thing that made him feel soft.
"i know, i know. i'm selfish," he mumbles against your skin. "i want everyone to know that you're with me. i want them to see me and realize they don't even have a chance. is that bad?"
"it's not bad," you whispered, leaning your head against his. "it's just you. it's also, like... really hot."
he pulled back, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through the scowl. he leaned in, pressing a hard, lingering kiss to your temple before standing up and pulling you with him.
"come on," he said, his voice back to its usual confident tone, though he didn't let go of your hand. "let’s go get food. if i stay here any longer, i'm going to end up staring that guy down until he quits his job."
he led you out of the gym, his chest puffed out just a little bit more than usual, his grip on your hand tight and unshakable. he walked you to the car, and even as he opened the door for you, he shot one last look back at the gym windows—just to make sure the message had been received.
HYUNJIN
the gallery was hushed, the kind of quiet that made you feel like you had to whisper even if you weren't saying anything important. the walls were covered in abstract pieces that looked like explosions of color, and you were currently squinting at one particularly confusing canvas. you couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a sunset over the ocean or just a very vibrant bowl of fruit.
hyunjin had wandered off a moment ago to look at a charcoal sketch in the far corner, leaving you to your own devices. usually, he walked right beside you, his hand resting in the small of your back, murmuring his own interpretations into your ear. those were your favorite moments—hearing him talk about brushstrokes and color theory in that soft, passionate way of his. it was the best way to spend a date.
"it’s the duality of existence, don't you think?"
you blinked, snapping out of your thoughts as a random guy stepped into your space. he was dressed in a turtleneck that looked way too tight and was holding a brochure like it was a holy text. he didn't wait for you to respond before he kept going, leaning in closer than necessary.
"the artist is clearly grappling with the fleeting nature of light," he said, gesturing vaguely at the red splotch you thought might be a cherry. "most people just see the surface, but i bet you have an eye for this sort of depth. i can tell by the way you’re looking at it. you have that... artistic soul."
you bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately not to laugh. you didn't have an artistic soul; you were just wondering if the painter had been hungry when they made this. "oh, i'm not sure," you murmured, stepping back an inch. "i was just—"
"no, don't be modest," he interrupted, flashing a practiced, flirty grin. "i could spend the whole afternoon explaining the subtext of this wing to you. a girl like you shouldn't be wandering around such complex work without a guide."
he reached out, his hand hovering near your waist as if he were going to guide you toward the next painting.
"she already has a guide."
the voice was cool, smooth, and laced with a sharp underlying tension. you didn't even have to turn around to know hyunjin was back.
hyunjin didn't look at the guy at first. he kept his eyes on the painting, but his hand found yours instantly, his long fingers sliding between yours and squeezing tight. he didn't just hold your hand; he anchored you to him.
"actually," hyunjin said, finally turning his head to look at the man. his gaze was icy, his dark eyes narrowed in a way that made him look incredibly intimidating despite his beautiful features. "it’s not about the duality of existence. it’s a study on chaos. and she doesn't need you to explain depth to her."
the guy blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in atmosphere. "i was just offering some insight—"
"your insight is unsolicited," hyunjin cut him off, his voice dropping to that low, velvety tone he used when he was genuinely annoyed. he stepped closer to you, his shoulder brushing yours, effectively erasing any gap the other man could have filled. "and your subtext is wrong. maybe read the artist's statement before you try to impress someone else’s girlfriend."
it was a total shut-down. the guy’s face turned a mottled red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish before he muttered something about "just being nice" and scurried off toward the sculpture garden.
hyunjin didn't watch him go. he turned to you immediately, his expression shifting from cold to pouting in a split second. he let out a dramatic sigh, dropping his forehead against your shoulder.
"i leave you alone for two minutes," he complained, his voice muffled. "two minutes, and someone is already trying to guide you."
"he was just being annoying, jinnie," you laughed, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "i was fine."
"he was touching your space," hyunjin muttered, pulling back to look at you. his eyes were still a little stormy, his jaw set in a stubborn line. he reached out, adjusting your scarf even though it was perfectly fine, just so he could have an excuse to touch you. "i don't like it. i don't like the way he was looking at you like you were part of the exhibit.”
he wrapped both arms around your waist then, pulling you flush against him right there in the middle of the gallery. hyunjin was always a bit dramatic, a bit more sensitive to the energy around him, and when he felt someone overstepping with you, he became incredibly territorial.
"you’re mine to explain paintings to," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. "i’m the only one who gets to see your 'artistic soul,' okay?"
you smiled, leaning back into his embrace. "okay. so, what is this one actually about then, mr. expert?"
hyunjin looked at the painting again—the one you thought was fruit. he went quiet for a second, his head tilting as he studied it. "honestly?" he whispered. "i think it’s a bowl of fruit. but i’m going to keep pretending it’s deep so we look more sophisticated than that guy."
you burst out laughing, and he joined you, his jealous mood finally melting away into that bright, beautiful smile you loved. he didn't let go of your hand for the rest of the day, leading you through the halls with his fingers locked firmly in yours, making sure everyone knew exactly who you were with.
HAN
the arcade was a chaotic mess of neon lights and overlapping synth music, exactly the kind of place jisung loved. you were currently focused on a racing game, your hands tight on the plastic steering wheel as you tried to beat the high score. jisung had gone to the counter to trade in a stack of tickets for some candy, leaving you alone at the machines for just a few minutes.
you were doing pretty well until a guy leaned against the side of your console. he was wearing a leather jacket and had a smirk that suggested he thought he was the best thing in the room.
"you’re taking that turn all wrong," he said, loud enough to be heard over the game’s sound effects. "you gotta drift earlier if you want the boost."
you didn't look up, eyes glued to the screen. "i'm doing fine, thanks."
"i'm just saying. i've got the top score on this cabinet," he continued, completely ignoring your brush-off. he shifted closer, his arm brushing against yours as he pointed at the screen. "here, let me show you. move over a bit and i'll handle the pedals for you."
the suggestion was weird and way too personal. you felt a surge of annoyance, but before you could tell him to get lost, a familiar presence appeared on your other side.
jisung didn't say anything at first. he just leaned in, dropping a heavy bag of sour candy onto the dash of the machine, right between you and the stranger. he didn't look like his usual hyper, joking self. his shoulders were tense, and his eyes were fixed on the guy with a look that was uncharacteristically sharp.
"she doesn't need help," jisung said. his voice wasn't loud, but it had a sudden, firm authority to it.
the guy blinked, looking jisung up and down. "just giving some tips, man. don't get worked up."
jisung stepped into the gap, effectively pushing the guy back by a few inches just by claiming the space. he draped an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side so tightly that you had to let go of the wheel.
"she's winning," jisung noted, his voice dropping into that lower, slightly raspier tone he got when he was feeling protective. "and she’s winning without you hovering over her. so unless you’re planning on playing the machine next door, find somewhere else to hang out."
the guy looked like he wanted to argue, but the sheer, focused energy coming off jisung was enough to make him think twice. jisung wasn't the biggest guy in the room, but when he was set on protecting something, he had a way of making the air around him feel electric.
"whatever," the guy muttered, pushing off the machine and disappearing into the crowd near the air hockey tables.
the second he was out of sight, jisung’s posture deflated. he let out a long, shaky breath, burying his face in your shoulder for a second. he was still holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him upright.
"hanji? you okay?" you asked, leaning your head against his.
"i hate idiots like him," he whispered, his voice muffled by your jacket. "idiots that act like they can just walk up and touch you. my heart started doing that weird thing where it feels like it’s vibrating."
you turned in his arms, seeing the faint flush on his cheeks. jisung dealt with a lot of anxiety, but when it came to you, his protective instincts usually managed to override his nerves—even if he felt the crash immediately afterward.
"you handled it perfectly," you said, reaching up to cup his face. "you were very cool."
jisung let out a small, embarrassed laugh, his eyes finally meeting yours. "i didn't feel cool. i felt like i was going to vibrate out of my skin. but then i saw him leaning on you and i just... i couldn't stay over at the counter. i don't like people in your bubble. that’s my bubble."
he pouted slightly, his thumb tracing the hem of your shirt. "i'm not good at the whole tough guy thing, but i really don't want anyone else thinking they can take my spot. is that too much?"
"no," you smiled, pulling him into a hug. "it's not too much."
jisung squeezed you back, his chin resting on your head. he stayed like that for a long moment, letting the noise of the arcade ground him again.
"okay," he said, pulling back with a sudden, forced burst of his usual energy, though he didn't let go of your hand. "now, move over. i'm going to beat your score and then i'm going to buy you a stuffed quokka with the rest of these tickets so everyone knows you’re taken by the best gamer in this building."
"i don't know if they'll have quokkas," you giggle.
"a squirrel, then!"
he spent the rest of the night glued to your side, his hand either in yours or resting on the small of your back, making sure that anyone who even looked in your direction knew exactly who you were with.
FELIX
the beach was beautiful, the salt air thick and warm as the sun began its slow dip toward the horizon. you were lounging on a wide striped towel, the sand still warm beneath you, while the sound of the waves provided a steady, rhythmic soundtrack. felix had been sitting with you for hours, his laughter ringing out every time a seagull got too close to your snacks, but he’d headed up to the boardwalk restrooms a few minutes ago.
you were closing your eyes, soaking in the last bit of the afternoon heat, when you felt the sand shift beside you.
"hey there. you look a little lonely for such a nice day."
you didn't notice the guy walking toward you until the sun was blocked out, casting a long shadow over your face. you squinted up, expecting to see felix, but it was someone else—a guy in board shorts with a surfboard tucked under his arm. he sat right down on the edge of your towel, kicking a bit of sand onto your book in the process.
"i'm fine, thanks," you said, sitting up and pulling your knees to your chest to create some distance. "my boyfriend just went to grab something."
the guy laughed, a slow, easy sound that felt entirely too confident. "boyfriend, huh? well, he's a lucky guy to leave someone like you alone on my beach. i’m a local—lived here my whole life. i know all the hidden spots, the ones the tourists don't know about. if you ever want a real tour of the coast, i could show you around."
he leaned back on his elbows, encroaching further into your space. his name rolls off his tongue, smooth and confident. too confident. "and... you are?"
"not interested," you replied, your voice firm, but he didn't seem to take the hint. he just grinned, looking you up and down in a way that made you feel exposed.
"come on, don't be like that. just a friendly offer from a local."
"she said she isn't interested."
the voice didn't sound like the felix most people knew. it wasn't the bright, bubbly tone you normally heard from him. it was deep—unnervingly deep—and it carried the weight of the ocean behind it.
felix was standing a few feet away, his silhouette sharp against the setting sun. he was wearing an open linen shirt and shorts, his blonde hair tousled by the wind, but his expression was anything but breezy. he looked down at the surfer with a cold, steady gaze that made the guy’s smile falter instantly.
felix didn't wait for a response. he walked over and stepped directly between you and the stranger, effectively shielding you with his body. he sat down right in the middle of the towel, his back to the guy, and pulled you into his lap. his arms wrapped around you, his chin hooking over your shoulder as he locked eyes with the surfer.
"you’re sitting on our towel," felix said. his voice was a low vibration against your back, the kind of sub-bass that you felt in your bones. "and you’re bothering her."
the surfer cleared his throat, suddenly looking much smaller than he had a moment ago. "man, i was just talking. no need to get aggressive."
"i'm not being aggressive," felix countered, his tone clipped and icy. "i’m telling you to leave. now. take your board and get out of here."
the guy scrambled up, grabbing his board and muttering something about "crazy tourists" before jogging off toward the water.
the second he was gone, the tension in felix’s frame snapped. he let out a jagged breath, his grip on you tightening. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his nose cold against your skin. he didn't move for a long time, just held you there while the waves crashed in the distance.
"lixie? you okay?" you whispered, reaching back to stroke his hair.
"no," he murmured, his voice muffled. "i wasn't even gone for that long. what a dipshit. can't even take no for an answer."
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. the usual spark was replaced by a raw, protective vulnerability. felix was usually the sweetest person you knew, but he had a territorial streak that came out whenever he felt like your safety or comfort was being threatened.
"i don't like being that guy," he admitted, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "the one who gets all possessive and weird. but when i see someone looking at you like that... like you're just something for them to win... it makes me feel like i’m losing my mind."
he sighed, his forehead dropping against yours. "i want to be the sunshine for you, always. but i’ll be the storm too, if i have to. i just want you to be safe."
you smiled, pulling his face closer to yours. "i’m always safe with you, baby. you don't have to worry. besides, it's very sexy."
his expression finally softened, a tiny, shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your nose before leaning back, though he kept you tucked firmly under his arm.
"good," he whispered. "because i’m not leaving your side for the rest of the night. we’re staying right here until the sun is completely gone."
he spent the rest of the evening exactly like that—glued to you, his hand never leaving yours, watching the horizon with a quiet, steady gaze that made it very clear to anyone passing by exactly who you belonged to.
SEUNGMIN
the bookstore was quiet, smelling of old paper and vanilla coffee. it was the kind of place where seungmin could spend hours, his eyes scanning spines with a focused intensity that you always found endearing. he’d spotted a specific edition of a poetry book he’d been hunting for and had disappeared into the back corner of the store, leaving you in the "new releases" section.
you were standing there, tilting your head at a row of thrillers, not exactly sure what you were looking for. you picked one up, reading the jacket blurb, when a guy stepped up beside you.
"that one’s a bit overhyped, honestly."
you looked over to see a guy who looked like he spent a lot of time in libraries—thick glasses, a slightly pretentious hoodie, and an air of confidence that felt a bit forced. he was leaning against the bookshelf, blocking your view of the next row.
"the pacing is all off in the second act," he continued, not waiting for you to ask. "if you want something with actual literary merit, you should be looking at the historical fiction section. i could walk you over there and give you some recommendations. a lot of people struggle with picking the right novel."
you gave a small, awkward laugh. "oh, i’m sure it’s fine. i just liked the cover."
"style over substance," he sighed, shaking his head with a condescending smile. "typical. look, i’ve got a pretty curated list of must-reads. if you give me your number, i can send you a few titles that are actually worth your time."
he leaned in a little closer, his hand reaching out as if to take the book from your hand to put it back on the shelf.
"she’s keeping that one."
seungmin’s voice was like a cold splash of water. it was sharp, precise, and completely devoid of his usual playful teasing. he appeared at your side, not with a flourish, but with a steady, quiet presence that immediately shifted the air in the aisle.
he didn't look at the guy at first. instead, he tucked the poetry book he’d found under his arm and reached out, taking the thriller from your hand and looking at the cover.
"it has a 4.2 rating on most platforms, and the prose is noted for being accessible yet punchy," seungmin said, his tone incredibly dry as he looked at the stranger. "but i’m sure your... curated list is much more impressive."
the guy blinked, his face flushing. "i was just offering some help. she seemed a bit lost."
"she isn't lost," seungmin replied. he didn't raise his voice, but there was a biting edge to it—the seungmin that the members were always wary of. he stepped into the space between you and the guy, his shoulder subtly pushing the stranger back an inch. "and if she wants a recommendation, she’ll ask someone who actually knows her taste. which isn't you."
the guy opened his mouth to say something, but seungmin just raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady and unimpressed. he looked like he was ready to dismantle the guy’s entire personality with a single sentence. the stranger clearly decided it wasn't worth the effort, turning and disappearing into the biography section.
the second he was gone, seungmin let out a quiet scoff. he didn't move away, though. he stayed right in your space, his hand sliding down to grip your wrist gently, his thumb rubbing against your pulse point.
"you were going to let him talk for ten more minutes, weren't you?" he asked, looking down at you. his ears were red, a tell-tale sign that he was much more bothered than he was letting on.
"i was just trying to be polite, min."
"you're too polite," he mumbled, his grip on your wrist tightening just a fraction before he pulled you closer to his side. "he was being a condescending prick. and he was trying to get your number right in front of me. well, almost in front of me."
seungmin let out a frustrated sigh, looking back at the shelf. he wasn't usually the type to make a scene, but when it came to you, his patience for other people was non-existent. he was territorial in a very intellectual, sharp way—he didn't like anyone acting like they knew you better than he did.
"i'm the only one who gets to recommend books to you," he said, his voice dropping to a softer, more private murmur. "because i’m the only one who knows you hate sad endings and that you always skip the middle of long descriptions. i don't need some guy in a scarf trying to fuckin' curate your life."
you smiled, leaning your head against his arm. "are you jealous, kim seungmin?"
"i'm observant," he corrected, though he couldn't hide the small, smug smile that touched his lips when you didn't pull away. "and i don't like people hovering. especially when they’re wrong about the pacing of that thriller. it’s actually very well-regarded."
he led you toward the checkout counter, his hand sliding down to lock fingers with yours. he didn't let go, even when he had to pay, making sure he was positioned between you and the rest of the store. as you walked out, he tucked the bag under his arm and pulled you closer.
"next time," he said, "just tell them you’re with a very mean singer who has no problem being rude in a quiet shop."
"i think they got the message," you teased.
"good," he whispered, pressing a quick, firm kiss to your temple. "they were supposed to."
I.N.
the night market was a blur of neon signs, the smell of spicy rice cakes, and the constant roar of a thousand different conversations. it was loud, crowded, and exactly the kind of place where you could lose someone in seconds.
jeongin had been holding your hand tightly the whole time, but he’d let go for just a moment to elbow his way through a crowd at a street food stall to grab the skewers you’d been eyeing.
you were waiting by a brightly lit claw machine, watching the mechanical arm fail to grab a plush bread roll, when a guy drifted over. he looked like he’d had a few drinks—not enough to be stumbling, but enough to be loud and way too confident.
"man, these things are a scam," he said, leaning his shoulder against the glass of the machine, effectively blocking your view. "you’re never gonna catch that. but hey, if you want something to take home, i’m right here."
you didn't even look at him, keeping your eyes on the joystick. "i'm just waiting for someone."
"he must be a slow guy to leave a girl like you standing in the middle of a crowd," he laughed, reaching out to tap the glass right in front of your face. he was hovering in your personal space, his shadow cutting off the light from the machine. "come on, let me buy you a drink instead of wasting your money on a toy. i know a spot just around the corner that’s way better than this mess."
you started to step away, but the crowd was thick behind you, trapping you between the machine and the stranger. "i said i'm waiting for someone. please move."
"don't be like that," he said, his hand moving as if to reach for your shoulder. "i'm just being—"
"she asked you to move."
jeongin appeared out of the crowd like he’d been launched from a cannon. he didn't look like the baby bread the fans joked about; he looked sharp, his feline eyes narrowed and his jaw set in a hard, uncompromising line. he stepped directly between you and the man, his shoulder knocking the guy back a couple of inches.
he didn't say it loudly, and he didn't make a scene, but the sheer coldness in jeongin’s voice was enough to make the air around you feel brittle. he stood his ground, his height and the sudden, intense presence he carried making him look much older than he was.
"hey, man, back off. we were just talking," the guy snapped, trying to regain his footing.
jeongin didn't flinch. he didn't even blink. he just reached back and grabbed your hand, his fingers interlacing with yours with a grip that was borderline bruising. "you were bothering her. she told you to move, and you didn't. so i'm telling you now. get lost before this becomes a bigger problem for you."
the man looked at jeongin—really looked at him—and saw the silent, icy resolve in his gaze. jeongin had a way of looking through people when he was angry, a sharp, piercing stare that made it clear he wasn't playing. the guy muttered a curse under his breath and disappeared back into the sea of people.
the second he was gone, jeongin turned to you. the "scary" version of him evaporated instantly, replaced by a look of pure, frantic worry. he dropped the skewers onto the ledge of the machine and took your face in both of his hands, his thumbs frantically brushing over your cheeks.
"are you okay? did he touch you? i was only gone for a minute, i shouldn't have let go of your hand," he rambled, his voice high and breathless. the adrenaline was still surging through him, making his hands shake just a little.
"innie, i'm all good. you got here before he could even do anything," you said, trying to calm him down.
jeongin let out a long, shaky exhale, leaning his forehead against yours. he closed his eyes, his hands sliding down to rest heavily on your shoulders. "this is crazy," he whispered. "some drunk bastard thinks that he can... that's crazy."
he pulled you into a crushing hug, burying his face in your neck. jeongin was usually the one being pampered by the older members, but when it came to you, he had this fierce, almost desperate need to be the protector. he hated being seen as "young" or "harmless" when it mattered most.
his grip tightening, he mutters against your skin; "i don't want anyone to look at us and think they can just take you away because i’m not enough to keep them back. you’re mine. i need them to know that."
he pulled back, his ears bright red but his eyes steady. he reached down, grabbed the food, and then locked his fingers with yours again—this time, he didn't just hold your hand; he held it like his life depended on it.
"we’re going home," he said firmly, though a shy, dimpled smile finally managed to peek through his serious expression. "and next time, if you want skewers, we’re going together. i’m not letting go of you for the rest of the night."
he led you out of the market, navigating the crowd with a new, confident stride, his shoulder always positioned to block you from anyone else’s view.
