SKZ DRABBLE-OT8
The one where maybe a period doesn't actually have to be the end of the sentence. or The Twenty Eighth Installment of the SKZ!Pack Prequel Series.
Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, SKZ!pack, ABO, Omegaverse, Skz!Pack prequel, Pack!prequel, ot8, skz x you, skz x reader, femreader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, lee felix, hwang hyunjin, y/n, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, skz abo, skz fluff, skz angst, skz smut
Genre: Angst, LOTS of Fluff, Suggestive, Light Smut
Warnings: Blood, Periods, Periods, Periods. If you don't like talk of menses, this one probably isn't for you. Period Sex, Blood Play, Blood as Lube, Mentions of Abortion, Unhealthy views of menstrual cycles
Title: End of a Sentence
“You look like shit.”
You barely raise your head from where it rests on your forearms at Hwasa’s observation, hearing the rustle as she slides into the seat beside you at the back of the lecture hall.
“Yeah, well-” You mutter out, turning your head slightly so you can narrow her in your field of vision, the movement making your headache pound behind one of your eyes. “-I feel like shit.”
She leans on her elbows on the desk, lowering herself so she can scan her gaze over your face, her dark hair falling over the shoulder of the fluffy faux coat she currently wears.
A wave of lavender washes over you at the movement.
“What’s going on with you? Pre-rut?” She asks in a lower voice, her dark eyes flicking between your own, full lips pulled into a hint of a worried line.
You shake your head. “Worse.” She stares at you for a moment, and then you see something akin to regretful acknowledgement flash across her gaze.
She sighs. “Ah, shit.”
You nod, keeping the movement jilted to stop from worsening your headache. “Yep.” She sits back in her chair, blowing out a breath, the perfect dark eyeliner-reminiscent of cat eyes-framing her lashes wrinkling a little as she narrows her gaze, pursing her lips in thought.
“I mean, you’re in a pack now, does it help at all?” She finally queries, glancing back over to where you still lay slumped over the desk like some sort of victorian plague victim.
You groan, pushing yourself up to a somewhat sitting position, and ignore the protests of your body as you do so, the pull of the sharp cramps tightening around your midsection, making your pubic bone ache.
“I don’t know. I haven’t told them.”
Hwasa’s gaze sharpens on your own, disapproval washing over her pretty features and leaking into her tone when she speaks. “What? But you guys have been together long enough to have this happen several times now, right?”
You give a little shrug. “Well, yeah, but I don’t hang around them during that time of the month. I give excuses, and crawl into my bed and die for a week, and then when it’s over, I drag my ass back to life and no one is none the wiser.”
Hwasa crosses her arms over her chest, sharp, pointed nails ticking across the arms of her coat as she stares at you.
You feel your hackles rise under her gaze. “What?”
She sighs, long and heavy, like you’re a disappointing child, and retorts, “You need to tell them. They could help you through it, like a rut. Trust me, it’ll be better for everyone.”
“It’s gross and personal-” You protest right back, already feeling your cheeks heat at the thought of having to talk to the pack-made up entirely of males-and explain to them why you’re out of commission for a week out of the month. “-they’re not gonna understand.”
She scoffs at that. “Please, you’re all adults, and if they’re not ready to deal with a little bit of period shit, then they have no right to be in your life in the first place.”
“It’s easier said than done-” You whine, putting your forehead in your palms and staring at the chipped surface of the desk. Someone has drawn a crude pen rendition of what looks like a penis just below your notebook.
“(Y/N).” Hwasa says your name sternly, and when you don’t look at her, she leans over and loops her fingers around your wrist, causing you to meet her gaze. She fixes you with a firm look. “They’re in college, I’m sure they’ve had the talk a long time ago and know about female anatomy, okay? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
You groan, but she stops you from tugging your gaze away from hers once more.
“Honey.” She sighs, and her fingers loosen around your wrist a bit, her voice going softer, her expression growing sympathetic. “I know from our time together, and all our years of friendship since, that your ‘time of the month’ if we’re being delicate, is a lot worse than what’s considered normal. So please, just let them in. They might be able to help and it might save you some misery in the long run.”
You make another little groaning sound, but the headache behind your eyes is pounding and the cramping is only getting worse, so in the end, you acquiesce, at least to just stop talking about it for the moment.
“Okay.” You sigh and give her the hint of a tight smile. “I’ll talk to them.”
*****
“They’re getting worse.” You told your mother, standing in front of the bathroom sink, hands braced on the cold tile, staring at your pale reflection in the mirror.
She had put her hand on your mid back, and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “It’s the change. Presenting always affects women differently and more dramatically than men.”
“I don’t want it.” You had cried, already doubled over from the cramps, tears streaming down your cheeks.
It was unfair, cruel even, and in that moment, you’d wanted to disappear, cease to exist, sink into the floor.
“It’s not a choice.” Your mother whispered, pressing kisses to the top of your head. “Women were chosen to suffer, and it is simply something we must endure. In turn, when you are older, the ability to create life will be yours.”
You’d thought that sounded awful in the moment, but didn’t say anything, and determined to follow in your mother’s footsteps, suffered in silence.
*******
It was awful, you decided, to be cursed with such a fate.
Awful in the fact that you could do nothing but curl in your bed and wait for the pains to subside.
Awful that blood stained your hands and thighs and the floor of the shower when you stood beneath the stream of the water, wanting to be clean for just one single moment, but denied the pleasure, a constant reminder.
Awful that no one knew, no one wanted to know.
Awful in the way that he looked at you, like you were some sort of disgusting creature, base and dirty and unworthy.
Awful, awful, awful.
It was raining, drops pelting the window, wind howling, when he came to stand in the doorway of your darkened room, dressed to go out.
Sitting up, you had begged him not to go.
He had simply waved you off, already pulling on his coat. “I don’t have time to sit around with you while you go through whatever this is. Other girls I’ve been with managed to take care of themselves still, get dressed, accompany me, all while this went on.” His lips curved into a sneer as he stared at you, huddled on the bed, bent over from the agony. “At least shower, for god’s sake, put a little effort into yourself for my sake.”
He’d gone out, leaving you alone, and you decided at that moment that it was better to suffer alone, than suffer under the scathing gaze of someone else.
*****
At eighteen, you realized your mother had lied to you.
She’d told you creating life was a gift, a blessing, given to adults.
The positive test sitting in the shaking palm of your hand said otherwise, a blatant lie bathed in stark pink lines.
There wasn’t an option, not now.
It was raining again, when you took the bus to the clinic by yourself.
It was raining when you went home, alone.
Raining when you laid curled up on the bathtub floor.
Raining, raining, raining.
Bleeding, bleeding, bleeding.
Awful, awful, awful.
******
You’re sitting in your bed, curled up against the wall, heating pad held tightly over your midsection, trying to distract yourself with scrolling on your phone, when there’s a knock at the door.
Heaving yourself up, groaning slightly as it jostles your body and worsens the agonizing cramping, you practically double over as you walk to the door, reaching for the handle.
On the other side is Hyunjin, flanked by Felix and Jeongin.
You straighten a little, surprise flickering across your face as you see the omegas standing in the hall of the alpha dorm like they belong here.
“Oh. Hey.” You manage to get out, palm splayed flat on the heating pad to keep it in place as you stand, leaning against the door. “What are you guys doing here?”
Hyunjin gives you the sassiest, most annoyed look you think you’ve seen in awhile.
“Please, like we were gonna sit and let you suffer alone after all you told us in that message?” He sniffs, looking you up and down. “Not very personable by the way, you couldn’t have told us in person?”
You flush slightly, remembering the text you’d sent the pack the night before.
‘This is embarrassing, but I’m on my cycle this week, and you probably won’t see me much. It’s usually pretty bad, but don’t worry, I’ll be good as new next week, and I’ve had plenty of experience dealing with it. Just didn’t wanna make any of you worry with my silence. Plus Hwasa told me I needed to tell you. So there. 😛’
“I didn’t think-” You start to say, and Felix cocks his head, staring at you.
“Didn’t think we’d care? We do.” He says softly, firmly, in a way that makes your bones warm.
“Yeah, noona.” Jeongin nods from behind Hyunjin’s shoulder. “I don’t know much, but I know enough from having girl friends that this time of month sucks on the regular.”
Hyunjin loops his arm through yours. “Now c’mon. We have a bath already drawn up for you in the omega dorms. Let’s go before it gets cold.”
“What, but I-” You begin to protest, but Felix takes your other arm as Jeongin shuts the door to your dorm behind you.
“No buts.” He admonishes gently, giving you the hint of a smile. “You always help us, now let us help you.”
It feels odd, foreign even, but you nod anyway, biting your bottom lip and swallowing the rest of your protest as they walk you over to the omega dorms.
When they lead you into the communal bathroom, the large, sunken tub is already full of steaming water, bath oils shimmering on the surface, bubbles collecting at the edges.
They really weren’t kidding when they said they’d drawn a bath for you.
The room is steamy and warm and smells of citrus and something floral adjacent.
Felix locks the door, and Jeongin moves to grab a couple of towels, as Hyunjin tugs you over to the large tub.
He releases you, putting his hands on his hips, taking you in before he motions with a tilt of his head. “C’mon then, the water's not getting any warmer.”
You hesitate, staring at him for a moment, and then you swallow.
“You guys really don’t have to do this.”
Jeongin glances at you from his seat on the lip of the tub, dangling his fingers in the water, genuine confusion on his face. “Why wouldn’t we?”
“Well, just because-” You hedge out, not really sure how much detail to get into. “It’s kind of gross, and it gets messy-really messy, for me-and the bath is so nice, but you really don’t have to stay-”
Hyunjin’s expression firms as he stares at you as you stutter out excuses. “Please, you don’t think we’re used to messy? C’mon, sweetheart, you’re talking to a room full of omegas here, we’ve got slick and bodily fluids and mess for days.”
You blow out a breath at that. “I know, but-” “But nothing.” Felix says firmly, his hands going down on your shoulders. “A little blood isn’t gonna put any of us off. Right guys?” He glances to the other two omegas and they both nod without hesitation. “See?” Felix murmurs in your ear, his low voice sending a slight shiver down your spine. He moves a small fingered hand to cover your own where you still hold the heat pack to your lower stomach. “You don’t like to see us suffer, right? And you’ve helped us all through heats at this point, so let us help you now, okay?”
Your gaze meets Hyunjin’s and he gives you a pointed stare.
“Just get in the fucking bath.”
Sighing, you finally nod. “Okay. But let me go to the bathroom first.”
You step into the ensuite bathroom and close the door, because suddenly, you feel self conscious. You’ve been naked in front of all of them before-they’re pack, for fuck’s sake-but this feels more intimate, more terrifying.
Words used before ring through your mind as you strip down.
Dirty. Pathetic. Shameful. Disgusting. Weak.
Taking in a breath, you remove the protection you wear and toss it, and almost immediately, blood is slowly starting to ooze down the inside of your thighs, coating your skin with warmth and slickness.
“Fuck.” You swear, glancing down, and decide that as much as you’d like to hide out in the bathroom for a few more moments, you can’t risk it.
Not if you don’t want a puddle on the floor.
Plus, the cramps are resuming with the removal of the heat pack.
So with a sigh of resignation, you leave the bathroom, arms wrapped around you as you step into the warm humidity of the other room where the omegas are waiting.
Trying to keep your legs clamped together so they can’t see the crimson coating your skin, you hurry to the bath and slide into the water. It instantly takes on a pink hue, and you hope they just attribute it to the bath oils they’d clearly added while you were gone.
“Temperature okay?” Felix asks, moving to sit beside Jeongin at the edge of the tub, his gaze assessing your features.
“Yeah, it’s good.” You breathe out, and shift awkwardly beneath the water. Already the heat is helping, but the way they’re all staring at you-
“All right, move over.” Hyunjin commands the younger omegas, as he approaches the bathtub with a rag held in one of his hands. He arches a brow at you as they slide apart, making room for him on the edge of the large tub. “Lemme see.”
You stare at him for a long moment, mouth slightly parted. “No, it’s okay. You really don’t have to-”
He crouches down beside the tub, wetting the rag in the water, his gaze never leaving yours.
“It wasn’t a request, babe. Let me see.”
You don’t think you’ve ever heard Hyunjin sound quite so authoritarian before.
So without another word, you bring your knees up out of the water and spread your legs for him.
The water has washed away the majority of the blood, but there’s still stubborn dried patches from earlier stuck to the warm skin of your upper thighs.
Carefully, slowly, as if he’s scared he’ll spook you, Hyunjin leans forward over the lip of the bath and begins to gently scrub away the bloodstains from off your skin.
You tense under the contact, taking in a sharp breath, but Felix reaches out to put a cool hand on the overheated skin of your shoulder.
“C’mon, noona. You’d do the same for us. Let us take care of you.”
You give a slight shake of your head, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re currently on your period, or if you’re just emotional suddenly, but tears choke your throat a little. “No, it’s not that. It’s just-” Your words cut off as you bite your tongue, because maybe being too honest in this moment isn’t the best thing.
You feel Hyunjin’s gaze flicker up from his work in between your thighs, scanning over your pinched expression.
“Someone gave you shit for it, didn’t they?” He asks softly, and you meet his gaze, your own mirroring the sudden shock his words send crashing over you.
Felix’s fingers tighten a little bit on your shoulder.
Hyunjin scoffs a little laugh-humorless and bitter-and must take your silence as an answer of itself, because he ducks his head to continue washing your skin with the warm water, saying in a murmur, “Yeah, I figured. People like to shit on things they don’t understand. It’s fucked up, but it’s the way it is.”
“That’s just stupid.” Felix announces with a slight edge of defensiveness to his tone. “It’s an anatomical function. Just like something associated with secondary genders-like scents or slick or knotting. You can’t do anything about it.”
“Yeah, but-” You hesitate, then push yourself to continue. “-mine’s always been worse than normal. Way worse than normal. And people just never liked to deal with it.” Your voice dips softer, your breath coming out in a sigh. “It got worse after I presented, so I just kind of holed up every month and dealt with it on my own.”
“You’ve got us now, noona.” Jeongin murmurs back, moving his hand to cover Felix’s where it covers your shoulder.
You glance up and give him the hint of a smile. “I know.” Your smile wavers a bit. “But old habits die hard. And I don’t want you guys to ever think-” Once again, your words stutter to a halt.
“Think what?” Felix pushes softly, as Hyunjin finishes washing your legs, and moves to lean against the lip of the tub, studying you silently, seriously.
You shrug one shoulder. “I don’t know. That I’m gross or pathetic or something like that.”
“Why would we ever think that?” Felix asks again, his voice coming out a little sharp in obvious defense of you.
“Because someone else did.” Hyunjin answers for you, not looking up, playing with the rag held between his hands. He glances up at you. “Right?”
You give a little nod and release a shaky breath. “Yeah.”
“We’re not them.” Felix pushes firmly, his fingers squeezing into your shoulder until you look up at him. “Okay? We could never be like them.” You hold his gaze until a small part of you believes him, and move to squeeze his fingers back.
“Okay.”
********
The door to your dorm opens, and you glance up from your laptop, as soft footsteps head down the hall toward you.
You smell him before you see him-rain.
Chan appears in the doorway, clothed in an oversized hoodie and sweats, hood pulled up over his unruly curls.
He leans against the doorframe as you shut your laptop, shifting it to the side of your bed as you meet his gaze.
“Hey.” You say softly as way of greeting.
“Hi.” He returns, reaching up to push his hood back with his free hand, the other dangling by his side, a plastic bag clenched between his fingers. “Yeosang said you didn’t feel well enough to go running this morning.”
“Yeah.” You sigh, glancing down at the pile of blankets on your lap, the heating pad warming your lower stomach buried below the layers. “Wasn’t up to it.”
Chan pads over to the bed and sits down on the edge, careful not to jostle you as he does so.
You flick your gaze to his, and you can tell, by the furrow between his brows and the slight souring of petrichor that he’s worried.
He holds aloft the bag in his hand.
“I brought you some things.”
Your lips curve slightly at the unexpected gesture. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course I did.” He counters back, sliding the bag across the bed so it rests in your lap.
You bite back a smile and glance down, undoing the knot of the bag to reveal the contents.
On top is his overly large Nirvana hoodie, the fabric warm and soft between your fingers.
“Your hoodie?” You look up at him in slight surprise, and the tips of his ears go red as he tries to play it off with a shrug.
Adorable.
“Yeah, I thought it might help.”
You arch a brow, but pull out the hoodie and slip it on over your head without another word.
You swear Chan makes a sort of muted purring sound in his chest when you do so.
You dig into the bag some more, and pull out a couple of boxes of your favorite treats, some sports drinks, and a couple of DVDs-probably snagged from Jisung’s extensive collection.
“Channie.” You breathe out, glancing up at him once more, and again, the stupid tears are threatening. “You really didn’t have to do all of this.”
He shrugs, reaching for one of the movies, turning it over in his large hands. “C’mon, you really thought I was just gonna sit by and stay away while you’re clearly over here dying? You really don’t know me. Or him.”
You give a little laugh at that, and Chan grins, dimples flashing.
Glancing down at the treasures in your lap, you find yourself murmuring before you can stop the words, “No one’s ever done something like this for me before.”
Chan shifts slightly on the bed, reaching out to put his hand over yours. “Yeah, well, that all ends now, baby. You’re stuck with me.And all of us.”
You glance up at him, and he gives you another grin, reaching up to tousle his fingers through his hair as he spreads the movies out in front of you.
“Now c’mon. Pick a movie. I brought you the cream of the crop.”
You hold up one of the cases toward him, brow arched.
“‘Hard Boiled’?” You announce with slight disbelief, a smirk curving your lips and brow disappearing further into your hairline.
Chan reaches out and snatches the movie from you.
“Okay, so maybe that one’s a miss. I tried.”
You bite back a grin, and settle on one of the chickflicks you’ve seen a thousand times.
But hey, classics are classics for a reason, right?
After Chan fetches your laptop and gets the movie started, settled in the perfect spot on the end of the bed, you pat the spot beside you, scooting slightly so he has a bit more room.
He hesitates. “Are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you or anything.”
You roll your eyes, reaching out to tug him down beside you with your fingers buried in the fabric of the sleeve of his hoodie.
“I’m not injured, I’m just simply bleeding out slowly and surely.”
“Oh, because that sounds so much better.” Chan retorts back in a grumble, but he doesn’t resist anymore, sliding beneath the layers of blankets with you.
Grinning, you tug the hood of his Nirvana hoodie up over your head and snuggle into him, cheek on his broad, warm chest, arms wrapping around his middle.
He’s like a furnace, and he smells like wet pavement.
He wraps his arms around you in turn, keeping you tight against him, as he reaches to turn off the bedside lamp as the movie begins to play across the small brightly lit screen of your laptop.
His cheek is resting on the top of your head, and the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your own cheek is soothing.
“Okay?” He asks softly, and you nod, cheek brushing the fabric of his own hoodie.
“Yeah.” You murmur back. “More than okay.”
You feel him press a kiss to the top of your head, and suddenly, you don’t feel so bad anymore.
******
You open the door to Minho, who immediately pushes past you without a word, a tower of bentos held in his arms.
“Hello to you too.” You mutter as he marches past you, directly toward your small kitchen.
You follow behind him wordlessly, and he motions to the table with a jerk of his chin as you enter, already spreading the boxes out on the counter top, removing lids like he has some sort of personal vendetta against them.
“Sit.” He commands, and you decide it’s better not to question him, so you do.
Almost within moments, Minho has presented you with a bowl full of steaming ramen with all the garnishes-fish cake, bamboo, mushrooms, bean sprouts-shoving a pair of chopsticks in your hand as he turns back to the counter.
Your mouth falls agape, and your stomach rumbles loudly as the smell of the food reaches your nose.
He returns to the table with a smaller bowl full of hot rice, and one full of kimchi. Last but not least, he positions a slab of perfectly cooked pink beef ribs atop your ramen and slides you one of the sports drinks Chan had brought you from the fridge.
“Eat.” He commands once more, and you stare at him as he sits down across from you after tidying up the now empty bento boxes.
“What-” You start to question, and he simply fixes you with an unblinking gaze, expression unreadable.
“What, you’ve never had ramen before, sweetheart? You’re supposed to put it in your mouth.”
Glancing down at the food before you, you hesitantly take your chopsticks and gather up a mouthful, before blowing on it and popping it into your mouth.
It’s so heavenly, you almost moan.
“Good girl.” Minho praises, seemingly satisfied, as you take another bite, and then another. He sits back in his own chair, watching you, but the food is too delicious for you to feel embarrassed under his sharp, astute gaze.
“Holy shit, Minho.” You manage to get out in between bites. “You made this?”
Minho scoffs lightly. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m a good cook.” He leans forward slightly, sweeping his gaze over the quickly dwindling food. “I usually make this one with pork belly, but I read something about red meat being better when you’re on your period, so I swapped it for the ribs this time around. It wasn’t too disappointing.”
Your gaze meets his, and your mouth falls open.
“You read something?” You squeak out, and Minho has the decency to look offended, rolling his eyes.
“What? I can read too you know, sweetheart, cooking isn’t just my one speciality. I’m a multi trick pony.”
“No, no.” I shake my head, wiping my mouth and setting down my chopsticks for a moment. “You read up on what to make me while I’m on my period? Why?”
Minho holds your gaze, arching a brow. “To get the recipe right.”
You stare at him for another long moment, and when it’s clear that’s all you’re going to get, you move to resume eating, finishing the ramen in record time.
Minho moves to gather up the now empty bowls, and in a bold move, you reach out and snag his hand with your own.
“Thank you.” You say softly, seriously, and he gives you another long stare, before he pulls away and moves to pack up the dishes.
You’re surprised when he moves to sit back down across from you instead of leaving immediately now that you’ve eaten his food.
You sit in silence for a few moments, and you don’t know what it is about Minho that’s always made you feel safe, unjudged, able to tell him anything, but you find yourself, once again, volunteering to tell him something you’ve never told anyone else before.
The words are already at the tip of your tongue before you can stop them.
“I had an abortion.” You announce into the silence, and if Minho is shocked by you baring this truth out of the blue, he doesn’t show it. Which gives you the courage to go on, fidgeting with your fingers, as you stare down at the chipped surface of the table.
“When I was a teenager. And it made them worse-the periods, I mean. They were bad before, but ever since-” You give a slight shake of your head and let out a breath. “-they’ve been awful.”
“Mm.” Minho makes a sound of acknowledgement beneath his breath from across the table, but that’s it. He doesn’t offer anything more.
So you keep going.
Spilling your guts into the silence.
“I thought, for a long time-” You sniff and take in a breath, a humorless sharp little choked laugh leaving your lips as you continue. “-that maybe I was being punished, you know? Punished for being born a girl, punished for presenting as an alpha, punished for-” Your words trail off a little. “-well, you know. Not keeping it.”
You shrug, tapping your fingers along the table softly.
“I dunno. Maybe I thought that bleeding was a symbol of everything I’d ever done wrong. It was certainly treated as such.”
There is a long moment of silence, your words hanging heavy in the air between you, and then Minho takes a breath, leaning forward across the table.
“You know, sweetheart-” He murmurs, and you glance up at the soft tone of his voice, so unfamiliar when it comes to the alpha sitting across from you. “-I’ve come to learn that everything is simply a coincidence. There’s no higher power punishing people, bullshit happens to people every day and it’s all just a fluke. There’s no rhyme or reason.”
You swallow, and he holds your gaze with his own.
“So believe me, when I tell you, that whatever idiotic moron made you think there’s something wrong with you that needs to be ‘punished’ every goddamn month, is a fucking fool.” Your lips part slightly, but he doesn’t let you speak.
“And if it’s yourself, well then-” He gives you a hint of a smirk, tilting his head slightly as he regards you. “-I’m afraid you’re just gonna have to tell that bitch to shut the fuck up, sweetheart.”
******
You wince slightly, coming in after your shower, hurrying to the dresser to find a pair of underwear to slip on beneath your oversized t-shirt before you can drip all over the floor.
Changbin must take notice of the grimace from his spot on your bed, because he pushes himself up, arching a brow.
“Cramps?”
You nod, still digging through your drawers for underwear, swearing slightly under your breath. “Yeah. They always get worse whenever I stand up and move around.”
You feel his presence behind you, smell a wave of smoke wash over your senses.
“You know what they say.” He murmurs, wrapping a strong arm around your waist, careful not to put too much pressure on your tender midsection. “About helping cramps.”
You scoff a little, glancing over your shoulder at him. “What if that’s just an old wives tale?”
He wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully, smirking a little now. “Is it?”
You skate your gaze away from his, suddenly embarrassed. “I mean. I don’t know.”
There is a brief moment of pause, and then Changbin asks in slight surprise, “What, you’ve never done it before?”
You huff a breath at that, still avoiding his gaze, hands stilling in the depths of your drawer. “I mean-” You hesitate, before admitting, “-it’s gross.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Changbin turns you at that, hands going down firmly on your shoulders, lifting your chin with a finger after another moment of you not looking at him
“I’m gonna drip blood all over the floor if you don’t let me go find something soon.” You protest a little weakly, reluctantly holding his gaze.
“In a minute.” He waves you off, expression going serious as he stares at you. “Listen, I mean, if that’s you talking, and you personally think it’s gross, then by all means, I get it, and that’s well within your right. As Hyunjin would say, ‘Slay, pussy boss bitch queen’ or whatever he usually says to empower females, but-”
You watch the way his brow furrows, dark gaze holding your own, lips pressing into a firm almost angry line. “-If some son of a bitch pussy footing prick masquerading as a man put that idea in your head that it was gross, then we’re gonna have a whole other problem.”
You stare at him for a long moment, mouth opening and closing for a few brief seconds as you try and comprehend what he’s telling you.
“You-” You hedge out, still staring at him in slight disbelief. “-don’t think it’s gross?”
Changbin chuckles, and then it turns into a full blown laugh. “Baby girl. What part of who I am and all you know about me points toward the fact that I would find anything about this gross in the slightest?”
“I don’t know-” You protest back helplessly. “I just thought-” Changbin backs you up until your back hits the wood of the dresser behind you, hands going on either side of your head, and when you take in a sharp breath, meeting his gaze, his irises are almost gleaming completely gold. When he speaks, his tone is low, voice almost predatory. “Well, let me correct you then.” He leans closer to you, breathing in against your temple, taking in your scent.
“Blood is not a turn off for me. Or him. Quite the opposite actually.”
You take in a shaky breath, mind taking a moment to catch up to what he’s telling you.
“So.” He brushes his nose along your hairline, breathing you in still. “I’m going to ask you again. You know what they say helps cramps?”
Your voice is small, barely a whisper. “Yes.” He flicks his gaze down to yours, smirking slightly-teeth flashing dangerously in a way that sends a shiver down your spine. “You wanna try it?”
You swallow hard, and push past every single part of you that’s screaming at you to say otherwise.
“Yes.”
As if that’s all he needs to hear, Changbin sweeps you up with a growl, and deposits you will little to no effort on the center of your bed, flat on your back.
You don’t even have a moment to feel ashamed or embarrassed, or check the situation down below before he’s already crawling between your legs, forcing your thighs apart for him.
“Bin-” You start to protest, panic setting in once more as you feel the telltale stickiness on the inside of your upper thighs, but he silences you with one glance.
“I’m gonna take it easy on you, baby. It tends to get a little more sensitive down here around this time, yeah? We’re gonna make sure you’re comfortable,so don’t worry about that, but I also don’t want to hear one word out of that pretty mouth unless it’s begging me for more, understood?”
He settles himself down on his stomach between your thighs, and you find yourself only able to whisper out, “Yes, sir.”
A sharp flash of white teeth. “Good girl.”
You take in a breath, holding it, and then let it out slowly, trying not to think of anything but the feel of his warm breath on your skin, the tickling of his fingers skating up your bare legs, moving back the hem of the large t-shirt you wear-
He slides a finger inside of you, and you instantly tense up.
“Relax.” He murmurs, and you try to do as he asks, and you know he can feel it, when he gives a slightly approving hum in the back of his throat, almost a growl. “Good girl. There you go.”
“Oh.” You breathe out, as you slowly relax, and he slides a second finger in, moving them carefully, searchingly, looking for that spot inside that makes you feel like you’re floating on air, sparks flashing before your eyes.
He’s right, you are sensitive down there, and everything is overwhelming, but in a good way.
“Bin-” You whine out, squirming slightly now, body already keying up as hot ropes of pleasure start to gather low in your belly.
“Yeah, baby.” He purrs, and when you meet his gaze, his pupils have completely taken over the gold of his irises.
It’s almost enough to send you over right then and there, the way his lips are slightly parted, drinking in the sight of you writhing beneath his touch greedily.
He pulls back, before you can fully succumb to the pleasure though, and you have to bite down hard on your lip to stop from whining at the sudden loss of contact.
He shifts, pulling his hand back from you, and holds up his fingers for you to see, his gaze slowly tracing over the blood dribbling down the digits, staining his skin crimson.
“Beautiful.” He growls, and the way he says the word has a shiver running down your spine.
He raises the fingers to his mouth, and without thinking, you jolt upward, already reaching out for him, old habits kicking in as you blurt out in a sudden panic once more, “Don’t-” He holds your gaze steadily as he slips the fingers into his mouth and sucks them clean, slowly, one by one.
You stare at him, mouth agape, chest heaving, and you hate to say it, but it’s probably one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen-watching him savor the taste of you on his fingers, cleaning them with swipes of his tongue, his dark gaze never wavering from yours.
“‘Don’t’ what?” He growls out, pinning you beneath his swirling golden gaze. “Don’t taste you?”
And without warning, he leans back down between your legs, and drags the warmth of his tongue up your center, flattening it against you as he slowly works his way upward.
Your breath comes out on a sort of choked sound, and you fall back against the bed, muscles trembling.
“Jesus fuck-” You swear breathlessly, and a guttural growl rumbles in his chest at the words leaving your lips.
He surges up, hands going down on either side of your head now, staring down at you, eyes dark and hungry and predatory.
His lips are reddened, stained with blood.
Your blood.
Well, fuck.
He smirks, and you reach up without really thinking to swipe the pad of your thumb across the full swell of his bottom lip, studying the crimson that comes off on your skin when you do so.
A slightly awe filled laugh leaves your lips on your next exhale.
Changbin flashes bloodstained teeth at you in a sharp grin.
A completely dangerous sight you could get used to.
“Want me to keep going?” He murmurs, holding your gaze.
You nod eagerly, already moving to pull him down to you. “Yes please.” And when you kiss him, you taste yourself on his lips in an entirely new way-the way he must-and he’s right.
It’s fucking beautiful.
****
“Feeling better, gorgeous?” Jisung murmurs to you, leaning back against your chest, your arms wrapped around his tiny waist beneath the warmth of the blankets.
“Much.” You breathe back, rubbing your nose against his soft hair.
Seungmin scoffs from his position behind you, his own arm slung along the couch behind your heads.
“Be quiet. The two of you are gonna miss the movie.” Jisung leans his head back and grins up at you, nose wrinkling, as he whispers to you loudly, “Party pooper.”
You laugh, kissing the tip of his nose.
Seungmin sighs behind you, but you feel him stroking his fingers idly through your hair regardless of his show of irritation.
You snuggle down between the betas, the air filled with the spice of ginger and linens, warm and safe beneath the blanket between their bodies, and feel, for the first time in your life, that maybe this week isn’t as awful as you always thought.
Maybe, just maybe, it doesn’t need to be.
Not ever again.
Not with them.