ULTRA (Freak) [NSFW]
Summary: It’s been strange - recently, you’ve been catching wind of the fact that your boyfriend is telling his friends about your sex life. Maybe you wouldn’t care, but from what you can tell, he hasn’t quite been telling them the truth about what the two of you actually get up to. When he finally gets called out for it in front of them, you can’t take it anymore: you remind him of his place (under you).
TLDR; Changbin talks big game for a guy that whimpers for you in bed.
Warnings: sub!Changbin, dom!areader, swearing, humiliation, degradation, penetration (reader!receiving), teasing
w.c.: 4.6K
– – –
I feel like Bin would be embarrassed that he’s submissive in bed. How do you tell the boys who ask about your freaky times that you like being ridden ‘til you cry??? You don’t :p Also all of my works are usually written with afab!reader in mind, but all wording and phrases will be gender neutral unless otherwise noted :)
You love your boyfriend. You really, really do.
It’s not that you don’t love every part of him, really. You just don’t love the part of him that’s convinced that he’s weaker for letting you be in control in bed. No amount of reassurance on your end can convince him that it’s normal, and you wouldn’t judge him if he was keeping your sex life secret. Sex is an inherently intimate thing between the two of you, and it was personal. It wasn’t meant to be aired to the world.
The issue wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to his friends about it - the issue was that he was lying about it.
The first time you caught wind of his lie was when he was on the phone with Chan in the other room. Hyunjin and you were pretty close at this point, with you coming over to the dorm so often, so you were splayed on the couch, talking lazily about your days. Changbin had apologized profusely when he went to take the phone call (and jokingly threatened Hyunjin about “keeping his hands off” of you), but you had waved him off. You know how important his work is to him, and you weren’t going to stand in the way of his passion.
“Anyways, is tonight one of those nights where I should go stay in someone else’s dorm?” Hyunjin said, mouth halfway full of food.
You choke, raising an eyebrow. “No? Does Bin…warn you when we’re going to have sex??”
“Yeah,” he says, swallowing before he speaks up again, “He says you’re crazy loud when you guys get ‘freaky.’”
You look at him, mouth agape, but all he does is cackle at you.
“Embarrassed for being outed like that?” he says with a grin. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell!”
You’re so shocked by the revelation that Changbin is not only warning Hyunjin about your sex but also that he’s claiming that you’re the loud one that you don’t deign Hyunjin with a response. You just groan, burying your head in your hands. Hyunjin laughs harder.
– – –
The second time you’ve got your legs across Han’s lap, sprawled across Minho and Han’s couch. You had pleaded with Minho to come over so you could see the children (his cats) after the thousand year drought (two weeks of not seeing them). As always, he complained excessively about having you over and how “needy” you were, but you still ended up at their dorm an hour later. Soonie is curled up on your chest, purring contently as you absentmindedly pet him, and Dori is nearby, splayed out across the rug. Despite being Minho’s cat, Han is constantly joking that Soonie likes you more than his father, much to Minho’s chagrin. Nothing pisses him off more than the idea that his precious babies would ever dare love someone else more than him.
“Min, I think Soonie might have to come home with me!” You call out, voice teasing.
“Don’t even joke!” He hollers back. “He’ll beat you up!”
“You mean you’ll beat me up,” you correct, Han giggling next to you, “Kitty’s got claws.”
“Nah, you’re the one with claws,” Minho says, head peaking around the corner, “or so we’ve been told.”
“Oh lord, what did I do this time?” You say with a dramatic sigh.
“Scratch up Changbin’s back - he wouldn’t take off his shirt earlier to change! He’s always talking about freaky shit, you two are nasty.” Han says, yelping when you reach and pinch at his side for the ‘freaky’ comment.
“Why is Bin telling everyone about what we get up to in bed??” you groan out, running a hand down your face.
“And I do not scratch him up.”
“He tells us everything-”
“Everything.” Minho interrupts.
“Everything! I don’t want to know about how you moan and whine and scratch him up because you ‘can’t help it!’ That’s none of my business! Tell him to keep that shit to himself, man.” Han says, lip jutted out.
So much drama in such a tiny man.
“First of all, I didn’t consent to my personal life being aired out like this,” you say with a start, “and second of all, I don’t! He’s literally lying to you. I just leave hickeys sometimes-”
“YAH! Stop telling me!! La la la-” Han says, plugging his ears.
You snort, kicking a leg at him, and the moment dissolves, the two of you already moving on.
But it lives with you, in the back of your mind, that this is the second time now that Changbin has (separately) lied to his friends about your sex life. You make a mental note to ask him about it when you get home, but you’re only human, and by the time you say your teary goodbyes to Soonie, Doongie, and Dori (and your half-assed goodbyes to the humans in the dorm), you’ve already forgotten.
– – –
The last time is when it all comes crashing down.
The album is done, the photoshoots aren’t until next week, and the boys have allowed themselves one whole weekend to take a breath. You’re so incredibly proud of them, and of course, your boyfriend especially. The way his eyes light up when he talks about his music makes you want to keep him in a little jar and protect that smile from the world. But he’s also been working so hard on the album that little circles have been carving themselves out under his eyes, and you’re glad that he’s finally taking the time to take a break, even if it’s only for a weekend.
Of course, the start of the break has to kick off with a party Friday night. Han’s excuse is that they’re not working the next day, so they can “go freaky style” (his words, not yours) and let loose. Chan’s excuse for letting the pseudo-party happen is that he’s “not their father” and that he has “no control” over their actions.
You’re pretty sure he just needs a drink, too.
That’s why you’re all squeezed into Changbin and Hyunjin’s dorm, drinks scattered across the rickety coffee table in their living room. A good chunk of the bottles littered there are empty, and half-drunk bottles and cans sit next to every member. You’ve been nursing a drink all night, not particularly feeling like getting drunk with everyone tonight. It’s more fun to watch them descend into madness sober, anyways.
They’ve decided that their current activity is to play some sort of hybrid of “Never Have I Ever”, which consists of someone drunkenly saying they would never do something, and members either agreeing or drunkenly defending their opposing views. You’re pretty sure they had tried to actually play the game at the start, but some of them are too far gone to actually keep track of what they have and haven’t done, it seems. So far, Chan had complained about the existence of spicy food, Minho had almost murdered Hyunjin for saying that cats are “useless”, and you had learned far too much about the sex lives of the other members.
Never had you ever thought that you would know which member is into choking and which isn’t, but here you are.
That’s what starts it - Felix offhandedly mentions how he could never be the “submissive” in a relationship - and conversation blows up. You don’t have to look at Changbin to know he’s squirming a bit next to you, and a quick glance alerts you to the flush crawling up his neck. You link your fingers with him and squeeze lightly, a quiet reassurance.
“Why not, Lix?” you say, thumb circling the back of Changbin’s hand absentmindedly.
“I just don’t like…letting go of control, I guess? It doesn’t feel right to give up control to my partner,” he says, sipping his drink intermittently.
“You jus’ don’t get it!” Han exclaims, unable to help himself.
“Letting someone have their way with you is like. The best, actually,” he continues, and the way Minho smirks next to him has you giggling and poking at Changbin.
He mouths “I knew it” to you, and you snort, ignoring Han’s rambling. Their lack of subtlety is a running bit between you and Changbin, and you used to have a tally of how many times they made eyes at each other that day, but the number would get so high it wouldn’t be worth counting anymore.
“I mean, we know where you stand, Changbin-ah,” Jeongin says absentmindedly, reaching for the opened twelve pack in front of him.
“We do?” you say, raising an eyebrow at your boyfriend.
The flush continues to crawl, now dusting his cheekbones a light pink. He tries to untangle your hands, but you just squeeze a little tighter, suddenly delighted that drunk Felix had brought this up. You tilt your head at him, acting as innocent as you can, but you know that he knows that, well…you know. You know that he’s been lying, and you can’t wait to see what he does with this chance to come clean.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he huffs out, refusing to make eye contact with anyone.
“Sure, hyung, and I’m American,” Hyunjin murmurs, and everyone laughs.
“You actually talk about your sex life like, all the time,” Seungmin deadpans, looking right at you.
“I wish I was deaf sometimes so I didn’t know these things about you.”
“It’s nasty, I don’t want to think about my hyung and his partner naked!” Jeongin said, sounding scandalized.
“He’s just embarrassed that he’s secretly submissive,” Han jokes, grinning at the two of you.
You watch Changbin’s eyes go wide, and he shifts nervously in his seat. It’s subtle, and you’re sure the only one who notices the shift in his energy (especially considering how inebriated some of them are), but it’s there.
“I’m not- it’s not- if I was, it’d be totally normal, Han-ah!” He exclaims, free hand coming up to run through his hair.
“You just said you were submissive, anyways,” he continues, ever defensive, “trying to push your sub agenda on me? You know I’m the dom, so why speculate?”
“Okay,” you say evenly, “Either everyone gets out, or you’re going to hear some very nasty things from Bin’s room in a couple minutes.”
You say it so cheerily the people around you almost don’t comprehend what you’re saying. Changbin tenses next to you, and when he dares a glance at you, he can’t help the way his cock starts to stir in his pants. There’s barely contained rage behind your eyes, hiding behind your too wide grin and the very, very tight grip you have on his hand. Before he knows what’s happening, you’re yanking him up, weaving the two of you towards his bedroom at a calm, controlled pace.
You want them to see, he realizes. Want them to register what’s happening, watch him follow you like a puppy.
The humiliation twists into arousal in his gut. His hyungs know. His band members know. His maknae knows - baby Jeongin knows what a gross pervert he is.
Why does that turn him on?
He can’t hear the words they’re saying to him - he knows they’re jeering at him, but it all sounds fuzzy, because he’s already sinking into your control.
If he was paying attention, he would see the wide-eyed look on Chan’s face, and the way his mouth was opening and closing uselessly, eyes flickering between the two of you. He’d hear the way that Hyunjin couldn’t stop laughing, and the lilting tone that Seungmin was teasing him with, clearly bemused but unable to stop himself from joking around. He’d see the hand Han had slapped over his mouth, eyes wide and blinking, as he slapped Minho’s arm, bouncing in his seat, his shock turned into uncontrollable energy. He’d watch Jeongin stumble out of his seat with a shout, ears tinged red, and hear the way that Jeongin’s quick departure made a deep chuckle rumble out of Felix’s chest, who looked entirely too pleased with the way his conversation had worked out.
But he couldn’t hear or see them, not when your warm fingers were tangled with his so tightly, not when your pace was so fast it made him stumble behind you, struggling to keep up. All he could hear was the thrum of his heartbeat pulsing in his ears, beating faster and faster the closer you get to his bedroom.
You shove the door open unceremoniously, tugging him around and shoving him towards the bed. He fumbles his way towards the bed, legs unsteady and eyes unsure. He watches you close the door, fingers hovering briefly over the lock, and then stalking towards him, leaving the door unlocked. It sends a sick sort of thrill through him that anyone could walk through the door and see him like this if they really wanted to, all flushed and pliant under your gaze.
“Are you done?” you say, tone sharp and biting.
“Am I- what?” He says, eyes wide, hands wringing together nervously in front of him.
“Lying,” you state, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “Are you done lying?”
He gulps, flush permanently painted across his cheeks at this point, and he’s so damn embarrassed at being caught that he can’t even form words. His mouth flaps open uselessly, and he takes a hesitant step towards you, like he can’t help but be drawn to you, even now.
You lunge before he can keep moving, almost manhandling him with how much force you use to throw him onto the bed. His breath is thrown out of his lungs as you use your hands to guide his above his head, a warning squeeze wordlessly telling him to keep them there. He obeys without question, chest heaving unevenly, and lets out a weak whine when you position yourself on his thighs, just below where he needs the pressure the most. Your eyes lock with his, and you run your hands down your body, letting out a soft sigh when you press your heat through your pants. You slide your shirt off slowly, sensually, only breaking eye contact to pull it over your head.
Changbin is shaking below you, hands clench tight above his head. There’s nothing he wants to do more than touch you right now, make you feel good. Nothing gets him off more than making you feel good, and the fact that he can’t do that right now is making him miserable. He knows he’s being punished, he knows he deserves it, but he can’t help but yearn for more of you. You’re so close, but it feels like you’re miles away.
Your warmth pulls away from him for a moment, and it takes everything in you not to laugh at the way his whole body arches off the bed, following your heat. He lets out the most pathetic sound, eyes already brimming with tears. But despite everything, his hands stay put, pressed deep into the sheets, clenching around everything they can reach without moving. You hook your fingers in the waistband of his sweatpants and underwear, and he raises his hips for you, allowing you to guide them off with ease. You toss them on the floor unceremoniously, eyes locked on the way his cock is already throbbing and red, twitching against his stomach. You yank his shirt up to his chest, letting it rest against his skin, and he shivers when your hands brush his skin. It’s embarrassing how even the lightest touch from you can affect him, send his mind reeling and his body pressing into your instinctively. You raise an eyebrow at him, eyes teasing, and he just bites his lip in response, cheeks flushed.
You sigh and back away, admiring your handiwork. He looks beautiful like this, but now it’s your turn to lose some layers.
But god, do you take your time taking your pants and underwear off, revelling in the way his eyes don’t leave your skin. His gaze burns into your skin, like he can’t possibly look away or blink for even a moment. It sends a warmth tingling down your spine, and part of you wants to give in to the desperation in his eyes and let him help you. He always makes you feel so good, but he’s been bad. And, well…
“Bad boys don’t get to touch,” you purr, eyes lidded, “Binnie, why did you have to be bad? Can’t you see how much I want you? But you had to ruin it.”
There’s venom laced in your voice, and Changbin is so weak for it. He’s flushed all the way down his chest now, and every breath he takes wracks his whole body. His cock is leaking so bad his precum is starting to puddle on his abdomen, making it glisten in the low light. He loves being your good boy, the perfect little thing that bends to your every whim, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t like when you’re mean to him like this. So condescending, eyes sharp but mouth even sharper. It feels like his whole body is on fire, alight with the heat searing through his veins. If you breathed at him just right he might explode.
“S-sorry, ‘m sorry!” he yelps, unable to help himself, “I’m so sorry, didn’t mean to!”
“No?” you murmur, moving so close your breath tickles his ear, “So why did you do it?”
He shivers, eyes glassy and frantic. His mouth opens and closes uselessly, but he knows there’s no right answer here - if he tells the truth, he’ll be in trouble, and if he lies? He’ll be in just as much trouble. There’s no winning against you, not here, not when you’re like this. Eyes furious, mouth curled into a snarl.
“I didn’t-I was scared-”
“You should be scared,” you say, voice rough, “But not of them, Binnie.”
You take two of your fingers into your mouth, making a show of soaking them in your spit, sucking on them obscenely. You move back over to the bed to straddle his thighs again, but you don’t sink your weight down on him. Instead, you just hover your body over him, the inside of your knees digging into the fat of his outer thighs as you trail your slick fingers down, down, down. It leaves a trail of spit down your chest and your stomach, and God, does he want to lean in and lick down that trail, follow your fingers down to your entrance.
You circle your entrance slowly, sighing when your wet fingers tease the rim just right. You let your head fall back, let every little sound fall from your mouth like honey, enjoying the way he couldn’t help but whine, his sounds even louder than yours. The veins in his forearms were bulging from the strain of having to keep himself still, biceps tense and taut next to his head. Arousal burns like magma under your skin - because God, does he just look so good like this.
Your fingers dip down to his stomach, skimming just past his cock to dip into the puddle of his arousal, making sure to get a generous amount on your fingers. He sucks in a ragged breath when you take those same fingers and insert them into your waiting entrance with a moan. You’re being dramatic, arching your body into every touch, but this is a punishment - you need him to see how good you can feel without him.
And it’s working a little too well. He’s already got fat tears running down his cheeks, his words a jumbled mess of apologies, your name, and “please”. You think you might just be able to cum from the teary look on his face alone.
You’re a little too close to the edge for your liking, and usually this would be the point where you’d make him beg and give in, but a twisted part of you can’t help but get yourself off now, while you’re hovering over him like some sort of god. He’s certainly looking up at you like he worships the very ground you walk on, eyes reverent and needy. But he’s a good boy, always a good boy, and that need won’t be acted on without your permission.
“I’m going to-fuck-gonna cum, Bin,” you pant out, voice high and breathless, “Can you watch me? Hngh, watch me-hah-watch me cum, like a good boy? Be m-my good boy, watch me, watch me-shit!”
His eyes don’t leave you, raking up and down your body as you shake and cum. It washes over you on a wave, and you make sure to moan out his name as it crashes over you, clenching impossibly tighter around your fingers at the way it makes him cry out. Your legs give out beneath you, and your weight lands on his thighs, coating them with a mix of his own arousal and your cum.
He’s panting now, eyes still locked onto you just like you asked, and you can’t help but bring your face to his and kiss you sweetly. He moans into the kiss, glad to finally feel you. He’ll take anything you give him at this point, so desperate to feel you against his skin that he doesn’t even really care if he cums, not anymore. He just wants to feel you, in any way you’ll let him.
You’re still so sensitive, still so fresh from cumming, but your hips have a mind of their own, and they slot your heat against his cock, grinding down into him. He just about squeals, mouth pulling back from yours to let the sound out. It’s so fucking pathetic, and it has you clenching around nothing.
“You’ve been so good, haven’t you, Binnie?” you coo, eyes fond and smile warm.
“You were so patient, kept your hands up like a good boy…do you think you deserve a reward?”
You don’t give him a chance to respond, instead reaching your hand down towards his mouth. His lips part for you without question, and you roll his tongue between your pointer finger and thumb, tugging on it a bit just to see his eyes roll back. Drool leaks down the corner of his cheek, and he blinks up at you, eyes big and full of yearning.
“This was supposed to be a punishment, you know…” you murmur, but it’s impossible to miss the way you’re looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars just for you.
“But how could I ever say no to your face?”
Your free hand reaches back, and you slow the steady roll of your hips for just long enough to guide his cock into your waiting entrance. His tip catches the rim of your entrance, and neither of you can hold back the wanton sound that slips past your lips at that. Everything is just so wet, your release and his precum mixing together as you sink yourself down on him.
No matter how many times you do this with him, the stretch is still so much, and you’re overwhelmed for a second, panting on top of him. You can’t move right away, not when the weight of him, the stretch of him, sends sparks up your spine.
“‘s so b-big, Binnie,” you whine, unable to hide the way your breath catches when you shift just a little, “It’s making me feel so f-hngh-full.”
“Y-yeah?” he responds, glassy eyes locking with your lidded. “‘m makin’ you feel good? Full is good?”
God, he’s just so sweet. Your eyes roll back into your head at his voice, and your hips buck instinctively. The wet shlck! is obscene, and it sends a shiver through both of you.
“Making me f-feel so good Binnie,” you pant out, hips still canting on their own, “Sh-shit, so good, my perfect boy, I love you-fuck!”
Your pace picks up, movements heavy and fast, and his mouth falls open, a broken sob tearing through him. You fall forward, hips never stopping, hands landing to frame his face. Still, even now, he hasn’t moved his hands an inch, forever your good, obedient boy. But you need him, need to feel his touch on your skin, need his big hands on your hips and your body.
“Touch me Binnie, please, you can move your hands, need you to touch me, o-okay?”
The second his hands are on your skin it’s electric, and you feel every nerve in your body light up. You’re wound tight, already so close and you’ve barely been on him. In forcing him to watch you, you’ve gotten so sensitive and desperate, too, needing to feel more than just your own hands everywhere. Your body arches into his every touch - how did you ever deprive yourself of this? He might’ve looked good when he was begging under you, but this is so much better, like two puzzle pieces finally clicking together.
“Love you, I love you, love you so much!” he moans out, babbling praises and pleads like he doesn’t already have you wrapped around his finger.
Luh-love you t-too, baby,” you groan, your oncoming release making your vision swirl, “Can you cum with me? Fill me up s-so good, can you do that for me?”
“I can do it, I-ahh! Oooooh, I can, I can-’s comin’, ooooh, coming, coming-gonna!”
You feel the warmth of his release fill you, and it makes the coil inside of you snap. You’re coming around him, hips twitching weakly in his hold as your upper body collapses on top of him. You kiss his neck as you cum, biting down a little too hard on the juncture where his shoulder meets his neck. It’s bound to leave a mark, and the idea of his members seeing it tomorrow, knowing now what it is, sends a sick thrill through you.
He’s still shaking a bit when you come back to yourself, and when you lift your weary body to look at him, he still has a glazed over look in his eyes. You lean down and press a kind kiss to his lips, so soft compared to how you just rode him into next week.
“Mhmm…” he hums quietly, still not back to himself quite yet.
“Yeah?” you murmur, huffing out a laugh.
Even in the afterglow, you can’t help but admire how beautiful he is. His hands have moved from your hips, his arms wrapping around you and holding you close. He’s tracing random shapes into your back with his pointer finger absentmindedly, something you know he does to ground himself. He’ll be back to you soon, but for now, you can admire him unabashedly, with no concerns of getting caught.
“I love you.” You say it with certainty, like there’s no greater truth in the world.
“...even when you lie to your friends about being a dom.”
“Yah!” he yelps above you, hand stilling on your back.
“I said I was sorry, didn’t I? You don’t have to keep bringing it up…”
“Jagi, they’re never going to let you hear the end of it,” you laugh, peppering kisses across his face, “Your bandmates are cruel.”
He groans, dragging a hand down his face.
“Seungmin-ah is going to make my life hell,” he mutters, sending you a half-hearted glare, “How could you do this to me?”
You snort, pressing your forehead against his.
“You deserved it.”
“Yeah,” he said, “Yeah, I did.”
The silence starts to drag, warm and content, and you two fall asleep, just like that, naked and tangled and still connected. And finally, in that blurry haze between night and dawn, everything is right with the world once again.
I hope your enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated ♡
