❪ 入れ墨 ❫ fluff est. rs photographer!changmin x f!reader 912 cw ノ they're engaged, lots of wedding stuff mentioned (& how expensive it is), kissing, not proofread 〃 @reisdoll ⸝⸝⸝ it's been *checks* 14 long months since i wrote for tbz BUT WE ARE BACK. i never stopped loving this group and the members, and i really hope the future will be kinder to them <3 / 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄
It's unusual to find Changmin not in bed with you by midnight, but luckily, you don't have to guess where he might be. There's only one plausible place that could be holding him this late. His study, at his computer.
You patter into the room, hair still wet from your shower and your light summer pyjamas on. It's completely dark save for the computer light illuminating Changmin's face. The curtains are still open, indicating that he has been sitting here for hours without noticing the passing time.
You close the curtains first, and then find the switch for the table lamp. The warm light pulls Changmin out of his focus immediately, and a sigh leaves his lips. He leans back in his chair, eyes scrunched shut, eyebrows tensed. You don't have to ask to tell his work has been frustrating him lately. Six hours on his computer without a break is never a good sign. His entire body shows the evident exhaustion.
You step behind his chair and let your hands find his shoulders. You gently work your fingers into his tense muscles. His head turns to the right, nose burrowing against your arm before he presses a kiss to your skin.
"It's late. You gonna sleep?" you pose the question. Somewhere in your head you already know the answer. He shakes his head quietly, muttering a quiet 'not yet' in response.
"Why are you still up?" he asks, leaning back against the headrest and blinking up at you. "Go sleep."
It's your turn to shake your head, "Not without you."
He frowns, "This isn't going to work, then. I have to finish these before tomorrow."
You glance at his computer where his editing software is open with a collection of photos from his latest shoot. A pre-wedding photoshoot; a very fancy one. You eye the elegant wedding dress the bride wears. It looks designer, upwards of ten thousand dollars at least. You've recently become more familiar with costs and styles of bridal wear on your own wedding dress hunt. Changmin has heard you complain more than once about the absurd costs.
You've always been so sure you would be more than happy with a cheaper wedding dress. Something classy without breaking the bank. Yet, you can't help but admire how stunning the bride looks in the photos with her poofy ballgown, massive train, and elegant veil. Changmin has completely captured the beauty of the dress and the bride. You rest your chin on the top of your fiancé's head, arms wrapped around his shoulders as you both stare at the photos.
"That dress is pretty," you mumble. Changmin can hear the want in your voice, despite you trying to conceal it. You're good at hiding things, but not from him. He has a way of reading you, even when you don't want him to.
The truth is, wedding dress shopping has been a source of stress for you recently—one that your fiancé can't easily help you with. You're still bent on keeping the dress a completely surprise for him, so you haven't told him much. It's not like you're rushed to find the one, but you've never particularly liked shopping for expensive things, especially something so important.
"Would you want to wear a dress like that?" he asks quietly.
"Maybe… if we were millionaires," you smile sarcastically. Changmin rubs your arm, eyebrows tense.
"I want you to have whatever dress you want. Don't focus on the cost so much. We'll make it work."
You kiss his head, "What about the rest, then? Everything about weddings are expensive. Venue, catering, decorations, reception, engagement shoot… they all cost a lot."
"Engagement shoot?" Changmin echoes, "I can do that for free."
"How? You need to be in the photos too, love. You can't be behind the camera and in front of it at the same time," you point out. Changmin is silent for a moment like he hadn't considered this fact before.
"I want to do our engagement shoot. I've imagined it in my head so many times. It's important to me."
"I know it is… we can think about it and figure something out."
"At least your bridal shoot, okay?" Changmin glances up at you. "I want to photograph you in your wedding dress."
"You will. We can do two separate shoots, or maybe you could tell Chanhee what you want and he could take the photos. You work together on projects all the time. You know he's good."
"Maybe."
"You're so picky about this," you tease fondly, fingers curling through his dark hair.
"And Chanhee is gonna be your best man anyway. He wouldn't even charge you for the photoshoot."
"Maybe."
"We can decide on it later. Finish up the touch-ups. I'll stay with you until you're done," you tell him.
"You sure?" Changmin's head turns up, dimple peeking out on his cheek. You smile back and press your lips to his before stepping back from his chair and pulling up a seat for yourself.
His attention turns back to his computer, eyes focusing on the smallest details to edit—adjusting colours, sharpening details, touching up blemishes. You watch him work for the next two hours, head resting on his shoulder, fighting sleep every time his scent relaxes you too much. By the time he's done, he finds you dozing off, still clinging to his side like a pillow. Adorable.
WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, best friends to lovers, numerous mentions of the female orgasm, ji changmin is a bit of a manwhore, mentions of alcohol, insane tension my b, intense making out x2, oral (m! and f! receiving), multiple orgasms, couch sex but missionary, unprotected sex (wrap before u fucking tap -_-), creampie, changmin is lowkey very whipped and very pussy drunk in this, also forewarning for every fic in this collab— there is lots of foreshadowing and references to the other fics since they all fall within the same timeline/universe!
SUMMARY you know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. what you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.
MORE i hope u jichang lovers are strapped in and ready for this… kinda went crazy with it 😭😭 um anyway?? first fic of the black out or back out collab?? crazy!! this fic actually ruined me. it used up all my brain power so if every other one sucks u can’t blame me!! it’s the law!! also, i’d like to take a moment to wish my boyz a very happy 6th anniversary <3 so so proud of all they’ve accomplished these past 6 years and i can’t wait to see what they do in the next 6. in this deobi shit 4L frfr 🙏🙏
You blink at Soyeon. It wasn’t that hard to believe. In fact, it was pretty easy to believe. You set down the bowl of popcorn on your lap and nod slowly.
“Uh, yeah. Yes fucking way,” a nervous laugh escapes your lips. “I’ve had to fake it with every guy I’ve ever been with. I don’t know what it is. Maybe something’s wrong with me.”
Men were… incompetent at certain things. And apparently your pleasure was one of those. Every dude you’ve ever slept with failed to make you finish. It was at the point that you felt that you were the problem. It would be understandable if it had been a couple guys, but every single one? Your luck had to be complete ass.
The only reason the topic had been brought up was because Soyeon had mentioned something about her last fling during your movie night. She was talking about how that had been the best sex she's ever had and it spurred you into making your confession. The last guy you’d been with had probably been the worst.
“Never?” Jiwon’s jaw drops, elbows resting on her knees. “How are you still alive, girl? How do you get your fix?”
“My hand, my vibrator, my pillow sometimes,” you shrug, picking at a loose thread on your blanket. “I’ve learned to make do with my situation, I guess. If I can’t get it elsewhere, I’ll just do it myself, y’know?”
Your girl friends look at you with pouts on their lips, as if they were the ones experiencing your misfortunes. You hadn’t even expected it to be such a big deal. You’d thought this was a normal, common occurrence. Boys usually sucked at things when it came to girls. But they all took this as a personal hit, like you were a fallen soldier in battle.
Perhaps the female orgasm was far more important than you assumed it to be.
“Considering who your best friend is, you’d think you were getting good dick left and right,” Dahyun snorts into her glass of wine. “This is actually kinda insane.”
You guess she had a point, despite you both leading very different lives. Changmin, your best friend, was known as one of the many heartthrobs on campus. He was in a fraternity, played on the school’s baseball team, and he even played with other things. Namely the hearts of practically every other girl at your university.
You’d think it would bother you to be so close to a man who couldn’t give less of a fuck about those of the same sex as you. But for some reason, you couldn’t find it in you to care. It’s not like he was bragging about the bitches he bagged on a regular basis. Though you were his best friend, he understood boundaries. He knew what was appropriate to talk about with you and respected that.
Your friends laugh at her observation, but drop the conversation after that, resuming the movie you were watching. However, it’s not that easy for you.
You can’t stop wondering if something really *is wrong with you. Why was it that everyone and their mom was capable of finishing and you weren’t? It was more unlikely that every single man you’ve been with sexually was that mediocre. Were you really that unlucky?
It bothers you so much that you find yourself still thinking about it well into the following week.
With the start of the new semester, came the adjustment of new classes. Even though you were a Communications major, you made the grave mistake of taking Lifespan Growth and Development with Changmin for the extra credit. He was an Early Childhood Education major, so it was a requirement for him, but not for you. (Honestly, he only forced you to take it with him so you had at least one lecture together. He was afraid your friendship might start to fade if you didn’t see each other often.)
Imagine how horrified you felt when your professor began to talk about babies and their circadian rhythm, but the only thing in your head was the fact that you’d never orgasmed because of a man. You felt like you were going crazy at this point. Really, the thought should’ve been long forgotten by now. But you couldn’t help yourself from dwelling on it, especially after your friends made jokes at your expense.
As you’re walking out of the lecture hall side by side with Changmin, you keep your focus on the ground, your hearing going in and out. His voice is staticy, your brain only registering words here and there. You’re a little pissed off that this has become such an issue.
He notices your lack of response and stops walking, eyebrows furrowed. You pause in your tracks along with him. “Are you good? You’ve been spacing out all morning.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” you shake your head as if that would rid of these stupid thoughts. “I’m just a little tired, I guess. I haven’t been getting much sleep.”
“Well, you better fix that. We’re expecting this weekend’s party to be one of the bigger ones this semester. Juyeon’s passing those fliers around like it’s his job,” Changmin purses his lips with a snort, ruffling your hair. “I need my beer pong partner to be in tip-top shape.”
You scratch the back of your neck. Half of you was kind of hesitant to go to this weekend’s TBZ party considering that was where you met the dude who started this whole downward spiral. He made an offhand comment about seeing you again, but you were actually hoping that would never happen. And with your fortune, the probability of running into him was pretty high.
“You see…“ You begin, but Changmin interrupts you with a distressed groan before you can continue.
“Don’t tell me you’re thinking of flaking,” his arms fall to his sides as his head tips back dramatically. “Y/N, I really need you there. How else am I gonna smoke everyone? I need— I mean we need to keep our title.”
Sometimes you wish Ji Changmin took anything else as seriously as he takes beer pong. You suppose it came with being a fraternity brother or something. They all drank alcohol like it was fucking water. You’re still sort of surprised none of them (Sunwoo) has gotten alcohol poisoning yet.
“I’m just… trying to avoid someone. And they’ll probably be there.” You sigh, fiddling with your fingers. Your best friend gives you an unreadable look that flashes across his face only for a moment.
“Tell me who it is. I’ll make sure they’re not allowed in. I’d much rather have you there than some rando who’s bugging you.” He says, shoving his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.
“That’s really unne—“
“Yo, Changmin! Aren’t you going with us to Cobie’s?”
You both turn towards the sudden intrusion, the voice belonging to Eric Sohn. He’s around 50 feet away from where you’re standing, joined by Kim Sunwoo and Ju Haknyeon. Changmin yells out his answer and spins back to you, an apologetic smile on his face. Somehow, you’re a little grateful for the interruption.
“We’ll finish this later, okay?” He nods at you, heading backwards in their direction. “You’re going, Y/N.”
You really should’ve listened to your instincts when they told you to skip out on the party.
You’re well aware that every attendee was crucial for the TBZ boys and their stupid rivalry with the KAT girls. So maybe you understood why Changmin needed you there so badly, aside from the obvious beer pong thing. However, you were starting to regret showing up.
First of all, Ji Changmin was nowhere to be found. Second of all, Jeon Soyeon was hounding you all night about the secret you so idiotically shared with your gal pals.
She was dead set on finding you a solution. (Basically, she was scanning the crowd of partygoers for a suitable man to satisfy your overdue needs. And she was proving devastatingly unsuccessful.)
You were too anxious to drink, also. Your feet were bouncing from where you sat on the couch, and your fingers couldn’t stop fidgeting. The antsiness was getting annoying at this point and you were hoping your knight in shining armor (Ji Changmin) revealed himself soon. Lest he wanted to lose out on his beloved beer pong partner.
It appears that your years of honing in on your manifestation powers have finally come to fruition when you spot Younghoon and Juyeon hauling the beer pong table into the living room. Where one of those tables are stationed, you know you’re guaranteed to find your best friend. The shorter of the two gentle giants cups his hands around his mouth and announces the first round of tonight’s tournament.
You stand from your seat, grabbing the opportunity to break free of Soyeon’s efforts to pimp you out. You’re ready to confirm you and Changmin’s spot in the tournament, when you see that you’ve already been beaten to it. It takes absolutely everything in you not to let your jaw drop and your eyes to tear up.
Some girl who happens to be in your Lifespan Growth and Dev class (you think her name is Iseul) is draped over Changmin’s arm, signing them up for the first round. He doesn’t look like he wants to, but makes no effort to refuse her.
You don’t know why it irks you. It shouldn’t irk you.
You’ve never cared about who he spends his free time with in the past. It’s been so easy for you to let his behavior slide, brushing it under the rug like it was no biggie. But this time, you care a whole lot. You chalk it up to the fact that he was seemingly replacing you as his beer pong partner, even though that was the entire reason why he wanted you to come to the party.
Yeah. That’s why.
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips just as Hyunjae passes by, no doubtedly heading to the beer pong table. You catch the sleeve of his polo and force him to halt in his steps. You’re not even sure why the hell he’s wearing a polo in the first place, his outfit embodying the stereotypical frat boy perfectly. This looked nothing like his usual wardrobe.
“Oh, hey Y/N, what’s up?” He smiles that award-winning Hyunjae smile, the one that manages to charm every girl in the room every single time he pulls it out. He brings the brim of his red solo cup up to his lips and finishes whatever’s left in it with one swig. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Do you wanna be my beer pong partner?” Okay, well now you’ve said it so there’s no going back.
His eyebrow shoots up in a mixture of shock and pleasant surprise. “Me? You’re not gonna ask Changmin?”
“He’s…” Your eyes flitter over to where he stands with Iseul(?), Hyunjae’s following. No. You’re okay. This isn’t getting to your head at all. Everything’s cool and peachy. “He’s too preoccupied.”
Hyunjae chooses not to say anything, instead nudging you over to the opposite end of the table. Changmin’s eyes widen when he sees the two of you, even having the audacity to look scandalized. God, maybe that was his biggest fault. He was so entitled.
So, it was just fine for him to bail on you in favor of some girl he didn’t even know, but the second you talk to one of his frat brothers, it’s off the table? What a fucking hypocrite. The whole ordeal was actually beginning to get on your nerves now. All you wanted to do was win this stupid beer pong game to show him that he’ll never find a partner as good as you.
Woah. Holy shit, Y/N. You need to dial it back a bit with the possessiveness. That was a lot, especially for you.
Juyeon narrows his eyes at you and then glances over to Changmin, the cogs turning in his head slowly. You’re not sure if that’s because he’s so used to seeing you both on the same side of the beer pong table, or because his vision was so shitty. Either way, it has you cowering behind Hyunjae a little as he dips the ping pong ball into the cup of water in the center.
“Okay, you know the rules. Let’s have a healthy, friendly game,” Younghoon says, tapping the table with a smile. “No playing dirty. I’m looking at you, Hyunjae.”
The brunette raises his hands in surrender, doing a quick bout of rock, paper, scissors with Changmin to determine which team went first. He wins with a quirk of his lips, sauntering back over to you. After rolling his neck around and popping his fingers, he tosses the ball right into Changmin and Iseul’s center cup.
You hate to admit it, but Hyunjae’s actually pretty good at this. You’ve never really paid attention to anyone else’s beer pong skills considering you’ve only ever played with Changmin as your partner. Who knows, maybe you’ll switch over permanently after this. At least, you might if he keeps up whatever it is that he’s doing.
Your best friend’s jaw tightens as he grabs the red solo cup, chugging what’s inside. He huffs and takes his turn, nearly missing with the way the ball circles around the rim. He sighs in relief at the same time you grimace. You still hadn’t had anything to drink all night and starting with fucking beer was probably the worst idea.
The game probably would’ve been a bit more competitive had Iseul been decent at beer pong, but she sucked. So Hyunjae and yourself always kept your lead by one cup or more. Karma is a dish best served cold, or however the saying goes. And karma certainly presented itself in the form of Ji Changmin’s first ever TBZ beer pong tournament loss.
Hyunjae high fives you with a cheesy grin, lacing your fingers together and shaking them around. He presses a kiss to your temple and guides you away from the table as Juyeon and Younghoon clear it for the second round. It wasn’t odd for any of the TBZ boys to show you affection since you were like a sister to most of them, but this felt… kind of weird. You can’t pinpoint exactly why, but it made you feel off.
“You’re my secret weapon,” he laughs, hands burying into the pockets of his khaki shorts. “I’m gonna steal you as my partner permanently.”
As much as you joked around in your head, the truth of the matter was that you could never actually replace Changmin. In spite of him acting like a complete dumbass tonight, he was still your best friend. Not even the biggest of fights would change that fact.
Before you can dismiss him, Changmin is stalking over to you with a slight scowl. His nostrils flare a bit as he asks, “Can we talk?”
You barely nod and then he’s fisting the material of your top at the small of your back, urging you away from the living room. Your feet keep tripping over themselves while you attempt to match his pace but he’s too determined to reach his destination in mind to even notice. No one even bats an eye as you get ushered to your demise.
You’re coaxed into a nearby bathroom without a word, your best friend standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. Because you hadn’t seen him a majority of the night, you hadn’t gotten the chance to get a good look at him. He was wearing a long sleeve striped polo and some baggy jeans, which probably would look basic on anyone else. But this is Ji Changmin. Girls flocked after him for a reason.
“Why would you play with Hyunjae? You know the type of guy he is. Now he thinks he has a shot with you or something.” As soon as he opens his mouth, you remember the type of guy he is.
“What does it matter to you? You were too busy giggling with your flavor of the week. Of course I wasn’t gonna wait around for you.” You bite back, mirroring his stance.
“Flavor of the—?” His eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and then everything settles in. “Oh.”
“Yeah,” you laugh humorlessly. “Don’t act all hypocritical with me, Changmin. I can’t believe I even came to this fucking party for you when you didn’t even bother giving me the same energy. Best friend, my ass.”
A scoff brushes past your lips and you turn to exit the bathroom, but he grabs your wrist. His grip isn’t too harsh, but it’s tight enough to stop you from going anywhere. “Wait. Don’t leave.”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” Your eyes flick back and forth between his and the fingers wrapped around your forearm. And you know, you really should’ve predicted what would happen after that. The nature of your words were provocative in their own right, not to mention the tension brewing in the midst of your argument.
From one second to the next, Changmin’s mouth is on your own, your back pressed to the bathroom door. His hands are everywhere and nowhere all at once; digging into your sides, running through your hair, caressing your face. You feel insane. Your head feels empty, no coherent thoughts running through it as his lips move against yours.
They migrate along your jaw and down your neck, nipping and sucking wherever they feel fit. Everything is moving way too fast for you to comprehend what’s happening. His lips feel so good on your skin, you’re having trouble finding the strength in you to stop him. But you know you have to. This was your best friend, for god’s sake. And besides, you didn’t want to deal with the disappointment you’ve faced time and time again when it came to men. You couldn’t handle feeling that way toward him.
Your palm presses against his chest and you try your hardest to ignore the sensation of his heart thumping beneath it. Your eyes squeeze shut as you push him off of you gently. Not expecting the sudden disruption, he stumbles backwards slightly. He’s a little dazed, like he, too, has not a single thought in that brain of his.
“I can’t— we can’t—“ You’re breathless, heaving up and down as if you’d just ran a damn marathon. “I have to go.”
You don’t give Changmin any freedom to react, escaping the bathroom exasperated. There’s too much going through your mind to search for Soyeon, leaving the party as quickly as you can. The moment your foot steps out of the front door, it’s like you’re given some clarity. The fresh air feels cool on your warm skin while you take the walk back to your apartment, not in the mood to sit in a stuffy car with anyone else. You needed to think clearly and vulnerably, and someone being there would just hinder that.
But first, you had to figure out where to go from here.
It’s been a couple days since the last TBZ party and you were still avoiding Ji Changmin like he was the plague.
You were definitely wishful thinking when you decided to just ignore things until you had class together. And even then, you were planning on pretending like nothing even happened. Fucking up your friendship with him was something you couldn’t stand emotionally. Or physically. It would be akin to the pain of having your heart ripped straight from your chest.
Meeting Changmin when you did was almost like a blessing in disguise. His attitude about life was exactly what you needed coming into university. You were shy and scared of your new surroundings. You had no friends, you were far from your family, and your imposter syndrome was through the roof. But then he swooped in and made everything better somehow. As much as it was a snooze fest, you’ll eternally be a little bit grateful for sharing that First Year Seminar class with him.
Deep down, a piece of you has always belonged to Changmin. From that first day of freshman year to now, you’ve always held him to a different standard than everyone else. You liked to believe it was because he was your best friend, the one person who sought you out even when it felt like no one ever would. And until very recently, you kept trying to convince yourself that was the case.
If you slept together that might be worse. What if he ended up like every other guy you’ve landed in bed with? What if he couldn’t satisfy you? It would make it even more strained. You didn’t want to end up like every other girl who’s vied for his heart and failed miserably. He wasn’t a relationship person.
Falling for him alone would complicate everything. If he didn’t feel the same, it would be weird between you and your friendship would never go back to normal. Yet as you lay here, body bundled in your comforter and drowning in one of the many sweatshirts he’s left over at your apartment, scrolling through his feed, you realize that there’s no return from this point. Now that you’ve contemplated the idea, you’re too far in.
You know, the universe had funny ways of rewarding you. (Or rather, punishing you.)
There’s a knock at your front door. You’re not entirely sure who it could be since you weren’t expecting anyone, but one glance through the peephole and it’s all over for you. You consider stepping away, running and cowering in your bedroom until he disappears so you can go back to dissimulating that your entire life wasn’t crumbling to your feet.
“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up, please, we need to talk.”
You curse under your breath but unlock the door anyway, maneuvering so he can come inside with ease. Changmin stares at you with an unreadable expression for a minute, vision raking over your figure. Maybe you’re imagining it, but it’s something similar to how men have looked at you before, like they were undressing you with their eyes. That’s when you remember that you were wearing his sweatshirt.
Without pants underneath…
The wind knocks out of him in an instant, something primal coming over him when his gaze lands on you in his clothing. He knows he shouldn’t think about you the way he does. He shouldn’t think of how pretty you are when your pen is caught in your teeth, attempting to make sense of whatever your professor was talking about. He shouldn’t think of the way your cheeks flush when you’ve had too much alcohol at one of the TBZ parties. He shouldn’t think of kissing you, or pressing up against you like a dog in heat. He shouldn’t be thinking of the kiss you shared Friday night.
You’re his best friend, the one person in the world who has ever understood him. The one who’s always glued to his side even when he may be in the wrong. Why would he ever want something different? How could he ask for more when he should be thankful for what he was already given?
“Why are you pushing me away? Why are you ignoring me?” Is what he finally asks after the silence has become unbearable.
“Changmin,” you swallow thickly, hesitative with what you say next. “Friends don’t kiss— we don’t kiss.”
He takes a step forward, and then another, and then another until he’s only arms’ length from you. “But, we could.”
You release a shuddery breath, reaching out to stop him from coming any closer. “P-Please. We can’t do this— I can’t do this.”
“Why not?” He pushes. He knows he’s tiptoeing the edge of something else. There’s a fine line between what you have now, and what he’s wanted for so long. It’s always been a matter of if you wanted that too. “Is it because you just don’t want to?”
You’re not even sure how to respond to him. Of course you want this. It isn’t that you don’t want him. You’re more scared than anything. You’re scared of becoming just another victim of Ji Changmin’s charms, of giving into him and it leading to another let down. Your resistance is evident on your face, and you’re not all that taken aback when he sighs.
“I’ve wanted you since that first day of First Year Seminar, Y/N. No one has ever compared to you and no one ever will,” he confesses, a hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I sleep with random girls to get you off my mind, to forget that I’m pretty fucking in love with my best friend.”
Then it all clicks.
It’s like you’ve come to the biggest realization of your life, an epiphany striking you suddenly with the weight of a freight train. It all trickles into place, the reason why you’ve never enjoyed yourself during sex. The reason why you’ve never finished at the hands of any man you’ve been with intimately.
None of them were Ji Changmin. None of them were the best friend that your heart has belonged to since your freshman year.
You press your lips to his without any warning, nearly colliding into him with the force of your impatience. He reciprocates immediately, fingers tangling in your hair and holding you closer than physically possible. You tilt your head to deepen the kiss, tongue dragging along his lower lip. Years of repressed longing and pining find themselves surfacing in this one kiss.
Changmin’s hands travel to your waist, burrowing into the fabric of his sweatshirt as he yanks you toward the couch. He falls to a sitting position when the backs of his knees hit the edge, your knees resting on either side of his lap. You don’t break apart once, not even to gasp for air as he grinds you down onto him. Through the material of his cargos you can feel him. He’s just as throbbing as you are, your core pulsing with a need unlike any other.
His fingers reach for the hem of the sweatshirt and that’s when you pause him, your nerves getting the best of you. He frowns. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s just,” admitting this a second time isn’t easier. “I’ve never— nobody’s ever made me… you know…”
The corners of his lips curl up, thumbs rubbing the backs of your thighs. “You’ve never came before, baby?”
Your breathing stutters in your chest, the smugness of his voice sending shockwaves through your body. You should’ve fully expected him to be a master at pillowtalk, what with the whole Sex-God persona and all that jazz, but it still catches you off guard. You shake your head shyly, arms hooked around his neck. His mouth attaches to the spot behind your ear, sucking the skin tenderly.
“I’ll make sure you’re ruined for anyone else,” his voice is no louder than a whisper, but sounds deafening to the cotton stuffing the place where your brain should be. “I’ll make you feel so good, you won’t think twice about who you belong to.”
A small whine emits from your throat, hips gyrating themselves onto his crotch. He bucks up into you instinctively, keeping you still on his lap. The sheer possessiveness of his tone is driving you up the wall. That seemed to be something you had in common with each other. You’re lightheaded, too many layers of clothing blocking the space between you. Changmin connects your lips again, sliding his hands beneath the sweatshirt so his fingers can hook into the waistband of your panties.
He helps you out of them and your top, baring your entire body to him. The way his cock twitches makes him feel like a goddamn teenager. You paw at the zipper of his pants as he pulls off his t-shirt, tugging the cargos down his legs so you can kneel between them. If he thought he wasn’t going to last before, he’s certain of it now. He wraps your hair around his fist in a makeshift ponytail, watching you with hooded eyes as you kiss his tip.
“You look so gorgeous like this,” his voice is wavering, his composure drifting off.
That encourages you to take him into the wet heat of your mouth, tongue twirling around the tip. You run it along his slit, tasting the precum that had formed there. His head falls back onto the sofa cushions, jerking his hand back a bit and tugging your hair just enough for it to sting. You moan around his dick, the pain providing more pleasure than its intended purpose.
He bucks up into your mouth yet again, his length gliding down your throat. Not prepared for the intrusion, you gag, pulling off of his cock with a string of saliva bridging your lips to the tip. Tears prick at your eyes for a second, and then you’re going back in.
This time you manage to relax your throat, fitting more than you could prior. Changmin’s eyes are half lidded, not once daring to look anywhere that wasn’t you. The sight of you so eager to please, so desperate to reward him in spite of you being the one who’s never orgasmed before, was clouding his thinking.
The image of you on your knees, sucking him off like your life depended on it, would be burned into his brain for the rest of his life. (Not that he minded. You lived there practically rent free, anyways.)
Your attention stays on the tip of his cock, tongue repeatedly alternating with dragging under the head and the slit on top. He could die happily, actually, the fear that he may never have you in this way finally dissipating into thin air. Want could only take a man so far.
He doesn’t stay sentimental for very long, remembering that you were currently between his legs and the inner monologue could wait for later. Though, he makes the grave mistake of making direct eye contact with you and it’s game over after that point.
Changmin finishes with a groan, his cum painting your chest with milky white ropes. He cups both sides of your face, bringing you up to kiss you messily. He doesn’t care that he can taste himself in your mouth, nipping your bottom lip to pry it open. The two of you swap spots, with him now on the floor and you on the couch. He pushes up your knees, spreading them to gain access to your cunt, glistening with your slick.
He presses a soft kiss to your clit, glancing up at you through his lashes to gauge your reaction. He not only had a reputation to defend, but he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was going to be the first man to make you cum. But it wasn’t sufficient to just fuck you, he needed to do more than that. He needed to flood your senses and show you exactly what you’ve been missing out on.
His tongue circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves, his ring and middle fingers going counter-clockwise on your entrance. He can hear the laboring of your breathing, the sharp exhale through your nostrils when he experimentally slides one of them inside of you. He starts to pump it slowly, building up the pace until he adds the other finger, curling them.
You whine when Changmin’s lips envelope your clit, suckling like a man starved. His fingers south don’t halt their assault, the palm of his other hand flattening on your lower stomach. You reach down to card through his hair, clutching the strands for support. He groans against your pussy, the vibrations contributing to the knot growing tighter in your abdomen.
He switches his tongue and fingers a moment later, lapping at your hole and swiping at your clit in a close ovular pattern with his thumb. You’re dizzy, lids fluttering shut and back arching off the cushions in a weak attempt to minimize the space between you. Changmin pins down your hips with his forearm, continuing making out with your cunt.
He flips the stimulation once more, mouth on your clit and fingers buried deep inside of you in an instant. He keeps his eyes on you, focused on every scrunch of your face and slacking of your jaw. The sudden difference in sensations has a loud moan ripping from your vocal cords, that knot coming undone almost too quickly for it being your first time in this position. You feel his lips turn up in a smile, like he’s proud of himself for doing the impossible.
Changmin pulls back slightly, his fingers still working you down from your peak. When he thinks you’ve calmed, he’s up and kissing you, petting your hair gently. “You did so well for me, baby.”
“I’ve made myself cum so many times before, but never like that— holy shit, Changmin…” You’re a little stunned and he finds it cute, despite you both being in such a compromising situation.
“I need you to give me one more, is that okay?” He lays you on your back, hovering over you. “I wanna see your pretty face when you cum on my cock.”
You pull him down for another kiss, pecking the side of his neck with a hum. “Want you to fill me up, too.”
The groan that leaves him is guttural, his forehead falling onto your collarbone. Dreams really do come true. He hikes up one of your legs, lining himself up with you. He guides his cock into you and watches you for any moves of discomfort. A whimper bubbles past as he slips in, bottoming out smoothly. Half of you still couldn’t believe this was happening. No fucking way was Ji Changmin on top of you right now, dick compressed in your cunt to the hilt.
He holds your knee to your chest as he begins to thrust his hips, driving his cock deep from the get go. Each motion jostles you further up the sofa, but you’re too gone to care. Your eyes have started to roll to the back of your head and you already feel that pressure rising in the pit of your stomach.
At this rate, you’re not sure you’ll last very long. You’re still extremely sensitive from your first orgasm and Changmin’s plowing into you like he might never get the chance to do it again.
“You’re so— fuck— you’re so tight, baby… Squeezing me in like you don’t wanna let me go,” he rasps, trailing open mouthed kisses along your jaw and carrying them down your jugular.
You moan something about how deep he is, about how you can feel him everywhere. It’s too much. It’s not enough. And despite him giving you everything he has to offer, you crave more. You’re yearning for more.
Something in you snaps and you’re cradling his face in your hands. “Love you so much, Changmin. Wanna be with you forever.”
His eyes widen at your off-kilter confession, but he doesn’t cease once. If anything, his speed increases as he kisses you passionately, noses bumping but so far on the spectrum from the others. This one is more emotional, more meaningful. It’s not long before he’s spilling into you, moaning against your lips. You follow closely behind, your second orgasm cresting like a tidal wave.
You stay like that for a minute, both of you soaking it all in. Your chests meet in the middle with each breath you take.
Changmin pulls out of you carefully, laying so you can rest comfortably on top of him. A smile inches across his feature, like he was on the inside of a joke you weren’t. You raise an eyebrow at him.
“What…”
“Nothing, it’s just,” he brushes some of your hair from your forehead to leave a smooch there. “I’ve been waiting for the right time to tell you how I felt for a while now. I just wanted to assure that you wouldn’t scream in my face and run the opposite direction. But you went ahead and beat me to it.”
“You meant what you said about the other girls?” You nibble at the skin of your cheek, nervous. “You slept with them to distract yourself from me? Even Iseul?”
He nods, albeit a little shamefully. “Not my proudest moment, I’ll say. I could’ve gone about it a million other ways. But yeah, I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you just because I couldn’t get my feelings in check.”
“You’re stupid,” you laugh, cuddling further into him. “It’s a good thing I’m kind of into that.”
“Kind of?” He quirks a brow at you. “I don’t know, you were saying something about loving me so much and wanting to be with me forever earlier…”
You smack his chest playfully. “Shut up. That was a moment of weakness or whatever.”
“It’s okay,” he smiles at you fondly, as if you were the reason that the sun shone so brightly. “I love you, too. And I wouldn’t mind being with you forever.”
summary: You’re his personal psychiatrist. On the surface, Changmin appears to be a well-mannered, ordinary young man with a spotless public image—but beneath that, lies something far more dangerous. Only you and his family know the truth.
author note: this work is a fictional story featuring dark psychological themes, including obsession, manipulation, and mental illness. please read only if you’re comfortable with these subjects. the characters and behaviors depicted are not meant to romanticize or accurately represent real-life mental health conditions. Fiction ≠ Reality. feel free to comment if you’d like to be added to the taglist! stay safe and take care! ❤︎
A sharp breath of evening chill hit you as you exited the car.
Lights glittered across the grand entrance of the 5-star hotel, elegant chandeliers spilling golden light through the tall glass doors. Valets moved quickly, guiding luxury cars to a separate line, while guests in tailored suits and jeweled gowns flowed inside like a river of power and wealth.
You barely had time to take it in before Changmin's hand brushed of your back. Guiding. As if to say stay close.
The lobby was just as breathtaking. Marble floors gleamed beneath your heels as Changmin led you toward a bank of elevators tucked behind a pair of velvet ropes. A uniformed attendant nodded as he pressed the button, recognizing him without a word.
The ride up was silent, except for the quiet hum of the elevator and the soft click of the numbers lighting up. Changmin didn’t let go of you, his hand still resting at your back, grounding and possessive.
When the elevator door opened, a pair of ornate double doors waited just down the hall, already cracked open.
Inside, the ballroom was alive with conversation, soft string music floating in the background beneath the hum of polite laughter and champagne glasses clinking.
You spotted him immediately.
Changmin’s father stood near the center of the room, surrounded by a small circle of polished men in designer suits, each with the air of practiced authority. A few elegant women stood beside them, sipping from delicate crystal flutes.
Mr. Ji turned as you both approached.
He smiled. Polished and precise.
“Ah,” he greeted, arms opening like a politician hosting a private party. “You made it. I wasn’t sure you would.” The warmth in his tone was measured, purposeful, as if every word had been weighed before it left his mouth.
Surprisingly, Changmin’s smile was perfect at him.
Polite. Cool. Effortlessly adult.
“Of course I did,” he said. “I know how important this night is to you, father.”
You blinked.
You knew this man. But right now—
He looked normal.
Like any other high-society heir. Straight-backed, soft-spoken, composed. So natural, it stopped you mid-thought. No one here would suspect what Changmin really was beneath that tailored suit and sweet smile.
Mr. Ji began to introduce him.
“This is my son, Ji Changmin,” he said proudly. “Freshly returned from his time away. You’ll find he’s matured quite well.”
Changmin bowed slightly, his expression pleasant, the curve of his lips soft and charming. “It’s an honor to meet all of you. Thank you for having me tonight.”
You stood just a step behind him, slightly to his side, the way you were meant to.
Suddenly, one of the older men in circle turned toward Changmin with a chuckle. “Still can’t believe you managed to close that Daeyang merger without ceding a single share of your equity. That was bold.”
Changmin offered a slow, almost lazy smile, but his gaze held the weight of someone who didn’t make moves. He orchestrated outcomes.
“They were the ones desperate. I just let them realize it on their own.”
A quiet chuckle escaped the older man as he absorbed Changmin’s words.
“Sharp. I’ve been in this business thirty years, and I still wouldn’t have seen that angle coming.”
Changmin’s smile lingered, just enough to be polite. But his next words cut cleaner than glass:
“That’s because you negotiate. I don’t.”
You blinked. Again.
That soft voice of Changmin, that unassuming tone. He made it sound so simple. But the subtle respect in the room said otherwise.
Then someone spoke. To you.
“Forgive my curiosity, but may I ask who this lovely young lady is?” He inquired with a gracious smile.
“Ah,” Changmin practically glowing as he looked at you. “This is my—”
“His personal manager,” Mr. Ji cut in smoothly before Changmin could finish.
The words landed like a slap.
Changmin’s smile faded, almost unnoticeably, but entirely. He turned his head just slightly toward his father.
And stared.
Eyes no longer warm, no longer sweet. Just dark. Quiet. Sharp. Not angry in the loud way.
Worse.
That kind of silence that only people who had truly known him might fear.
You quickly recovered with a small smile and a polite bow to them. “Thank you for having me.”
A woman in a sapphire gown leaned slightly toward you, holding her drink loosely between two fingers.
“My, you’re beautiful,” she remarked lightly. “I nearly thought you were engaged to him.”
Changmin’s smile brightened instantly at that. He didn’t say anything, but his posture straightened again, his chest rising ever so slightly.
The moment hung for just a second, until Mr. Ji laughed. But there was no joy in the sound.
“No, no. Changmin’s still single,” he said easily, gesturing to his son. “Though I’ve been telling him to start looking seriously. He has options.”
“Options?” another man chimed in. “With a face and a brain like that, I’m sure half the daughters in this room would line up.”
Laughter again.
“You should meet my niece,” a woman added. “Or my daughter. She's just returned from studying in the States. Very bright. Very elegant.”
You felt Changmin still beside you. You glanced up at him. He was still smiling. Still perfectly composed. But his eyes… behind those dark-rimmed glasses, they were frozen.
Unblinking.
And then you felt it.
His hand slipped into yours.
And squeezed.
Hard.
His palm was cold and tight against your skin, his grip tense. Not enough to hurt, but enough to speak, as if saying: Take me out of here.
You looked at him again and gave him the smallest nod. Turning to the group, you spoke lightly, with a sweet, professional tone.
“Excuse us,” you said politely. “We’ll just be looking for something to drink.”
They smiled, waved you off.
And as you walked away, Changmin followed silently beside you, still holding your hand. Still smiling. But as you led him through the crowd and away from their eyes…
You could feel it in the way his fingers dug just slightly deeper into yours.
He wasn’t angry that they wanted him to meet someone. He was angry because they didn’t realize—
he’d already chosen.
And she was walking beside him, in a short white dress he couldn’t take his eyes off.
***
He didn’t say a word as you led him down a quieter hall, hand still locked in yours like he was afraid to let go.
You both passed the glowing exit signs, past a velvet rope and a quiet corridor that curved off the ballroom’s edge. Until finally, you both stopped in front of a tall set of double glass doors.
He pushed one open with ease.
The balcony was dimly lit, high above the city, overlooking a blur of traffic lights and glowing towers. You stepped out with him, the air crisp against your skin. And strangely… it was quiet. The music and voices from inside faded into a low hum, barely reaching your ears.
You turned toward him, about to ask if he was alright.
But before you could speak, he took both your hands in his.
“Why do they do that?” he whispered, eyes searching yours. “Why does he talk like I’m available? Like I’m something to be auctioned off—like I’m for sale?”
His grip on your hands tightened. Not rough. But urgent. Desperate.
“I hate them,” he breathed. “All of them. The way they look at me like I’m just a prize. The way they talk about who deserves me.” His jaw clenched. “As if someone else—someone from a rich family—should be standing beside me instead of you.”
You just listened to him like his words carried more weight than you expected.
“I hate that I couldn’t say it,” he said. His voice cracked just slightly at the edges. “I hate that I had to bite my tongue while he introduced you like you were just another name on his payroll.”
Your breath caught. Something tender stirring in your chest.
His thumbs rubbed circles over your knuckles, his breath shaky.
“I wanted to tell them,” he said, leaning closer. His forehead nearly touching yours. “That you’re not my manager or my psychiatrist. You’re not just some pretty girl I brought to dinner.”
He closed his eyes.
“I wanted to tell them I already belong to you.”
Changmin leaned in, his lips brushing your cheek in a kiss that lingered. Soft and trembling. He pulled back only enough to look at you, and when he did, his gaze was heavy. Intimate. Unblinking.
His hand rose, brushing lightly against your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip with excruciating gentleness.
And the strange thing was—you didn’t pull away.
Your heart pounded, your pulse rising in your throat, but you didn’t stop him. Not even when he leaned in again, slowly, lips nearly brushing yours.
A noise cut through the quiet.
The door to the balcony creaked open.
“Ah—sorry,” a young man said, backing up quickly. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”
He was gone just as fast, slipping back into the ballroom and pulling the door shut behind him.
You jumped slightly, startled. And out of reflex, pushed Changmin back, hands on his chest.
His expression shifted.
The kiss never happened. But the rejection did.
He looked at you, lips parting, eyes suddenly dim. Not angry. Not cold. Just… wounded.
“You’re still scared of me, Noona…” he said softly. “Aren’t you?”
You opened your mouth, but nothing came at first.
Then,
“No,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “I’m not scared of you, Changmin. I just—” You swallowed. “You surprised me. That’s all.”
His gaze didn’t move, as if he didn’t quite believe you. Like he was preparing to be abandoned again.
You took a step closer and wrapped both hands around his.
“You don’t have to fight so hard to prove anything tonight. Not to them. Not to me.”
He stared at you. Your thumbs brushed gently over his knuckles.
“Because you know it yourself, don’t you? That I’m with you.”
Something flickered in his expression, something cracked and raw and painfully soft. As if what you said had reached someplace deep.
He looked at your hands, still holding his.
“You always say the exact thing I need to hear, Noona.” He whispered. “Even when I don’t deserve it.”
You gave him a faint smile. “Come on. Let’s go back inside. Dinner’s probably starting.”
You turned, still holding his hand, and led him back toward the doors. His fingers stayed wrapped in yours the entire way. Tight. Like he was afraid if he let go, the night would take you from him.
And when you stepped back into the warmth and noise of the ballroom…
Changmin didn’t look at anyone else. Not the businessmen. Not the daughters.
Only you.
As if every move you made reminded him—he belonged to you, and no one else.
***
By the time the ballroom lights dimmed and the emcee welcomed everyone to the gala, you were already seated beside Changmin at one of the long, elegant tables draped in ivory linen.
Glasses clinked softly. Silver cutlery gleamed. The low hum of polite conversation settled as the brief welcome speech began, the speaker standing proudly at the podium to thank the generous donors and distinguished guests.
But you could barely focus.
Because Changmin hadn’t let go of your hand. Not once.
Underneath the tablecloth, his fingers were threaded tightly through yours. His palm warm, his thumb brushing lazy, rhythmic circles over your skin like it was second nature.
You glanced at him once.
He wasn’t looking at the stage.
He was looking at you.
Soft smile. Dimple showing faintly. His eyes held no trace of the storm you'd seen on the balcony earlier. No bitterness. No tension.
Just a kind of silent devotion.
“You’re not even listening,” you whispered.
He leaned toward you slightly, voice low and casual. “I don’t care what they’re saying.”
You arched a brow. “It’s your family’s foundation.”
He smiled faintly. “Noona, you think I came here for them?”
You looked down at your joined hands.
Dinner service began soon after. Waiters moved quietly, setting down delicate plates—appetizers arranged like art. A quiet clatter of silverware filled the air as the guests began to eat.
But Changmin didn’t touch his food. Not until he saw you pick up your fork.
“Is it good?” he asked softly.
You looked up. His expression was gentle, earnest. His chin tilted just slightly in your direction.
You nodded. “Surprisingly, yes.”
“I would’ve had the kitchen redo it if you said no.”
You laughed under your breath, unsure whether he was joking. With him, it was always hard to tell.
The entertainment portion of the evening began soon after. Musicians performing near the stage, followed by a short video presentation and the start of the fundraising activities.
Applause. Laughter. Conversations picking up around you.
But Changmin… stayed exactly where he was.
He didn’t glance at the performers. He didn’t look at the auction list handed to each guest. He just kept smiling at you, like nothing else in the world mattered.
“Do you want dessert, Noona?” He asked at one point, his hand now resting gently on your thigh beneath the table, thumb stroking absent-minded patterns there. “I can have them bring more.”
“I’m fine,” you whispered. “You’ve barely eaten.”
He tilted his head slightly. “I’m already full.”
“You just eat one bite…”
He gave a small smile. “I’m full just looking at you.”
The words should’ve sounded cheesy. Ridiculous, even. But the way he said it—quietly, sincerely, eyes heavy with something more than affection—made it hard to breathe.
He was being so gentle tonight. So sweet. So perfectly attentive.
Like a man in love.
And he is.
But you couldn’t shake the feeling that every soft word, every lingering glance, every fingertip resting on your skin… was his way of silently warning the room: She’s taken.
His fingers tightened briefly around yours again beneath the table, like he could read your thoughts. You looked at him. He was still smiling.
And for a moment—just a moment—you forgot that the boy beside you was dangerous.
He looked like someone who could give you the world.
And break it in half if anyone tried to take you away.
***
The ballroom had grown warmer, louder, buzzing with alcohol and shallow laughter as the fundraising auction picked up. Guests mingled between tables, glasses of champagne in hand, voices rising over the soft jazz playing in the background.
You were mid-sentence, politely thanking one of the foundation representatives who had stopped by to greet you both, when you realized Changmin’s grip on your hand had changed.
Tighter.
Still smiling on the surface, but his jaw had clenched.
You followed his line of sight.
It was an old man speaking to you—mid-40s, a silver sponsor for the event. He looked half-tipsy as he sat down beside you and leaned in slightly, complimenting your dress, your poise, even made some joking comment about how “Mr. Ji’s son must be lucky to have such radiant company.”
You didn’t laugh.
But Changmin did.
Quietly.
Low and sharp.
The kind of laugh that made your stomach twist.
You looked over at him. He was no longer smiling. Not really. His eyes were fixed on the man like he was already imagining peeling him apart.
“Excuse me,” Changmin said suddenly, voice cool. “Would you mind repeating that?”
The man blinked. “Sorry?”
Changmin tilted his head, still holding your hand, but his other was now gripping the stem of his wine glass too tightly. “The part where you called her radiant company. Or was that your way of trying to flirt in front of me?”
“Changmin,” you said softly, nudging him, “It’s fine.”
He didn’t look at you. Not yet.
“Because if that’s what you were doing,” he continued, voice still calm—too calm, “I think it’s best you walk away before I break this glass and show you what happens to people who forget their place.”
The man laughed awkwardly and raised his hands. “Just a compliment. My apologies.”
You offering a tight smile at the old man. “You’ll have to excuse him,” you said, politely. “It might be the wine affecting his mood.”
The man gave a stiff nod as he stood and stepped away quickly.
Changmin’s eyes stayed locked on his back even as he disappeared into the crowd.
You turned to him, your heart picking up. “Changmin,” you whispered, “hey… look at me.”
He didn’t respond.
“Look at me.”
Finally, he blinked, like snapping out of something. His gaze flicked down to your face. His hand loosened around yours. He exhaled slowly.
“…Sorry, Noona.” He muttered, jaw clenched. “I just—he looked at you like some desperate old fuck trying to buy a night with someone younger. Like you were up for auction too.”
“Changmin,” you said quietly but firmly, your hand reaching to touch his under the table again. “You can’t say things like that. Not here. Not like this.”
“He doesn’t get to look at you like that,” he snapped, but his voice had lowered. “No one does.”
You squeezed his hand tighter.
“Hey…” you whispered. “I'm right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.”
That finally made him look at you fully.
You cupped the back of his hand and guided it under the table again.
“You don’t have to fight for me, Changmin,” you whispered, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “You already have me.”
He swallowed hard, like your voice was the only thing tethering him to the room.
Just then, someone else approached from behind.
Mr. Ji.
His expression was unreadable as he leaned down discreetly to your ear.
“He needs to go home,” he said simply. “Now. Before he ruins the reputation I built.”
You glanced at Changmin.
His face was perfectly composed again. His lips curled back into that soft, obedient smile. But you could feel the tension still humming just beneath the surface.
You nodded slowly.
“Understood.”
***
The drive back to the mansion was steeped in silence. Not the uncomfortable kind, not exactly. But the kind that throbbed with tension just beneath the surface, like the air before a summer storm.
Changmin sat beside you in the dark leather backseat, one hand resting on yours, unmoving. His jaw was clenched, his eyes fixed out the window, but you could feel his thoughts roiling.
He didn’t speak a word the entire ride home.
When the car finally rolled up the circular driveway and the grand iron gates closed behind, the mansion stood tall and shadowed under the moonlight. The front doors opened before the car even came to a full stop. The staff had been waiting.
The maids greeted you both with soft bows and hushed voices, their eyes flicking to Changmin’s face with caution. He didn’t acknowledge them, just kept walking, hand in yours, straight past the foyer like he was holding his breath.
You led him upstairs, to his room.
The room was quiet, but the air felt thick and cold.
You sat with him on the velvet couch, though it felt like sitting beside a live wire.
His knuckles were pale against his thighs, clenched too hard.
“I thought about kissing you in the car,” he murmured, voice low, trembling with restraint. “I still want to.”
You felt your heart thud once—before your psychiatrist instincts kicked in.
“Let me go get your meds, okay?” you said softly.
His head snapped toward you. “Don’t,” he warned, the sweetness from earlier gone like a snapped thread. “Don’t say that. Not right now.”
“I’m saying it because I care,” you said, steady, though your pulse had started to race. “You’re spiraling. I can see it in your eyes.”
His jaw clenched, teeth grinding. “You don’t understand what it’s like, Noona. You sit there acting calm, so in control, but you don’t know what it does to me when someone else even glances at you.”
He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “I still can hear that old man voice in my head. I see his eyes on you. And all I want is to erase him.”
Your breath hitched.
“Changmin—”
His hand shot out, gripping your wrist.
“I just want one thing tonight, Noona…” He rasped, voice raw and low. “One thing...”
You barely had time to breathe before he leaned in—and kissed you.
Not soft. Not sweet.
It was heat and hunger.
Changmin's mouth crashed onto yours with the kind of desperation that made your spine arch and your breath catch in your throat.
His hand on your wrist held tight, grounding and overwhelming all at once, while his other slid behind your neck, fingers threading into your hair, holding you there like you might vanish.
You felt the press of his chest against yours, too solid, too warm. His scent—clean linen and something darker beneath, sharp like leather and musk—filled your senses as his lips parted against yours, tasting, claiming.
He kissed you like he was starved for it. Like this was the only way to quiet the storm in his head.
Your pulse thundered.
A small, helpless sound escaped you, and he groaned softly in response, deepening the kiss. His tongue brushing yours, coaxing, unrelenting. It was messy. Hot. Too much.
And yet… you didn’t pull away.
Not at first.
Your hands were on his chest before you even realized it, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, heart pounding so hard you swore he could feel it.
There was a flicker of want inside you, shamefully human, dangerously tempted.
Right before you could lose yourself—
Your palms pressed firmer against him.
“Stop.”
He froze.
His eyes opened, wild and glassy with something unspoken. Panic? Guilt? Longing?
You were breathless, your lips tingling, your entire body still wound tight from the heat of it.
“You’re not thinking clearly,” you said, steady but low. “That was panic. And I won’t let you spiral like this.”
His hand slowly released your wrist, his fingers dragging away like it physically hurt him to let go.
A breath slipped past your lips.
“I’ll go get your meds,” you whispered. “We’ll talk again tomorrow. When your head’s quiet.”
He looked shattered. But he didn’t fight you.
He just leaned back to the couch, silent, staring at the ceiling.
But then… he smiled.
Soft. Dangerous. Like something in him had tasted what it wanted—and would never forget.
***
Morning came gently, as if the house itself was holding its breath.
After everything that happened the night before—after his spiraling words, the force of his kiss, and the storm that nearly broke through—you’d finally managed to calm him. It had taken a quiet voice, steady hands… and his nightly dose of medication slipped into warm tea. Only then did Changmin fall asleep, like the monster in him had curled back into something small. Tamed.
The kitchen had long since filled with the gentle sounds of morning.
Soft chopping, clinks of porcelain, and the low simmer of broth on the stove. You kept your movements quiet and focused, plating the breakfast just as the sun began filtering through the tall windows of the dining room.
Just as you were placing down the second bowl, footsteps padded in from the hallway.
Changmin.
He looked sleep-rumpled and soft, dressed in an oversized white tee and gray sweats, hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed. His eyes were half-lidded, but the moment he saw you, his expression brightened.
Beamed.
It stopped you for a second, how he lit up like that. Like he’d just walked into a dream.
“Morning, Noona,” he said sweetly, walking straight up to you.
Before you could respond, his arms were around your waist, pulling you into a warm, lingering hug. His cheek pressed into your shoulder.
You stood still, heart skipping, not because of the gesture, but because of how normal it felt. Too normal. Too easy.
As if last night hadn’t happened.
But then, he whispered.
Low, breath brushing the shell of your ear.
“We kissed,” he murmured, voice dreamy, reverent. “We finally shared our first kiss last night…”
Your stomach twisted.
“I kept thinking about it,” he went on softly, still holding you. “Over and over. How perfect it felt. How soft your lips were. How right it was.”
You froze in place.
“I love you, Noona,” he breathed. Unshakeable.
You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his eyes.
They were clear. Awake now. Not groggy at all.
Deliriously convinced.
***
The living room was quiet.
After breakfast, Changmin had followed you without question, until the two of you ended up on the wide sofa near the sun-drenched windows. The soft click of the clock on the wall was the only sound, accompanied by the distant breeze from the half-open curtains.
No maids. No staff. Just you and him.
Changmin was lying on the sofa, his head resting gently on your lap.
His eyes were open, soft and warm, gazing up at you with a peace you hadn’t seen in days. As if he’d never raised his voice. Never kissed you like a man possessed.
You gently combed your fingers through his hair, brushing back the soft strands from his forehead. It calmed him. You knew that. He always relaxed more when you touched his hair like this.
His lashes fluttered a little under your gaze.
“I like this,” he murmured. “When you pet my head like that.”
Your fingers didn’t stop. But your voice was quiet when you spoke.
“Changmin…”
He blinked slowly. “Hm?”
“…you shouldn’t do that again,” you said softly.
He stilled.
The air between you shifted. Not cold, but no longer light.
“You shouldn’t force a kiss on someone,” you continued gently, your fingertips still brushing through his hair. “Even if you think they want it. Even if it’s out of love. That’s not okay.”
He didn’t look away. His voice was quiet. Careful.
“…I know.”
You looked down at him.
He was still watching you. Vulnerable. But not defensive.
“I knew it the second you pulled away,” he added. “And when you didn’t slap me… when you just looked at me with those eyes, like I’d broken something precious—I hated myself for it.”
You paused. A little surprised by his answer.
“I didn’t want to scare you,” he whispered. “I just… You were too close, and I didn’t know how to hold it in anymore. I’m sorry.”
He reached for your hand, barely brushing your wrist with his fingers.
“I’ll never do that again, Noona. I swear. Not unless you giving me permission. Not unless you want me to.”
Your fingers curled gently in his hair. You watched him, searching for the lie, but there was none. Just a boy who was trying. Just a heart too full of you.
“I meant what I said,” he added. “But still… that kiss meant everything to me, even if it was a little forceful, Noona.”
You didn’t answer right away. Because you knew, he meant every words.
The sunlight spilled slowly across the room, warm on your skin, softening the sharp edges of the morning.
But now… he was quiet.
Now… he was warm.
Now… he was just a boy in your lap, eyes steady and head leaning into every pass of your hand like it was the only comfort in the world.
So you said nothing.
You just let out a quiet breath… and kept brushing his hair.
And he smiled.
A small, relieved smile.
***
Hours passed in a quiet blur, the sun slipping below the horizon until darkness settled fully over the estate.
That night, the air in the mansion felt unusually heavy. The kind of quiet that meant something was about to happen.
You were in the hallway when one of the maids came to you, eyes nervous.
“Miss (Y/N)… Mr. Ji is here again. He asked to see Master Changmin in the study.”
Your chest tightened.
Changmin was calm when he walked past you, flashing a small smile like he didn’t want you to worry. But there was a flicker of something dark in his eyes. You watched as he disappeared behind the double doors at the far end of the corridor.
The grand study.
The one place in the mansion that always felt more like a courtroom than a room for reading.
You waited outside, pacing slightly, heart racing.
Five minutes passed. Seven. Ten.
And suddenly, CRASH.
Something slammed. Something broke. A loud, heavy thud. The sound of something solid thrown.
Your breath hitched.
Without thinking, you rushed toward the study door and pushed it open.
The sight stopped you cold.
“Changmin?!”
Mr. Ji stood in the center of the study, one hand gripping a wooden bat—yes, a bat—mid-swing. Papers littered the floor, a gouge tore through the mahogany desk, shards of a shattered glass decanter glittered underfoot.
And Changmin—your patient—your Changmin—crouched by the bookcase, one arm shielding his head, lips pressed thin in the effort not to react. A fresh red line streaked across his forearm where the bat must have glanced.
Your heart dropped.
“What exactly do you think you’re doing, Mr. Ji?!” you screamed, rushing to Changmin’s side, your hands shaking. You were supposed to maintain distance. Clinical objectivity. Instead, you were on your knees, shielding him from his own father. “Have you lost your mind?”
Changmin didn’t speak. He just pressed closer to your side, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeve like he was afraid you’d leave.
Mr. Ji slowly lowered the bat, his jaw clenched tight.
“You should know better than anyone, Doctor. This boy is unstable. He’s dangerous. If I don’t discipline him, he’ll ruin everything. Our name, our company, our legacy—”
“He’s your son,” you snapped, one hand braced on Changmin’s shoulder. You could feel the tremor running through him. “Not a project. Not a brand.”
Mr. Ji's eyes were cold as ice. “And you're the one who's supposed to be keeping him under control.”
“I am,” you seethed, trying not to cry. “But you don’t get to hurt him like this. Not ever.”
For a second, no one spoke. Just harsh, ragged breathing between the three of you. Changmin was still silent, head bowed like he was trying to disappear.
“I’ll handle him. You don’t get to touch him again.” You said, voice steel.
Silence stretched thick between you.
Then, finally, Mr. Ji turned toward the door. But just before leaving, he said with a final glance back:
“Then I suggest you do handle him, Doctor.”
And with that, the door slammed behind him.
For a moment, all you could hear was the echo of it. The way it sounded so final. Like something shutting closed for good.
You stared at the space he’d just left, heart pounding. It hit you then—this was where it all came from. The obsession. The need to control everything, everyone. It wasn’t just inherited… it was taught. Imposed. Carved into Changmin from the inside out.
“Shh… You’re safe now. I promise,” you whispered. Changmin was still in your arms, both of you still on the floor.
He hadn’t said a word. Just trembled silently against you, his face buried in your shoulder, like moving or speaking might shatter him completely. So you held him tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other wrapped around his back, steadying the way his body kept shaking.
Mr. Ji’s obsession toward his legacy and empire was worse. Because he had power. Because he believed it was righteous. Because he believed love was earned through obedience and he made his son believe that, too.
And that was the part that broke you.
Now you understood why Changmin clung to you so desperately. Like you were air. Like you were his salvation.
In that moment, you understood: you weren’t just helping him heal now. This wasn’t just about therapy anymore.
And for the first time, you saw your role not just as his psychiatrist, but as someone who will show him love and shield him from the one who inflicted the wound in the first place.
PAIRING 💋 changmin x fem!reader
GENRES & AUS 💋 non idol!au, friends to ?, smut
WORD COUNT 💋 2.2k
WARNINGS 💋 oral sex - MDNI!
AUTHOR’S NOTE 💋 im sorry for dipping and then writing something new instead of the three things i have in drafts.......... i feel like this is a little rushed but ive been thinking about it forever so i had to do it ;;
"What?"
Changmin looks at you in the low light, brows raised like he can't believe what he's hearing.
"Yup," you just shrug, taking a sip from the drink, now lukewarm and kind of disgusting.
You can see the gears turn in his head, chewing his cheek like he's unsure if he should say something else or shut up.
It's unclear exactly how you ended up on this subject. Sunwoo stopped by and told some unbelievable and likely exaggerated sex story, which is never surprising from him. Then he grabbed Juyeon and left, leaving only you and Changmin by the table.
Sweet, silly Changmin, with the dimples and honest eyes, glassy from drinking.
Somehow, after talking a bit more, you let it slip that your ex never gave you head, because he didn't like it. Which looks to be the most insane thing Changmin has ever heard.
You two almost never talk about stuff like this — or any sexual stuff, really. But it's easy, like everything is with him. He's not such a dude about it, just genuine and quiet and sweet.
"Never?" he repeats, almost whispering, like it's a secret.
"Not once," you confirm.
He looks like this is offensive to him personally, and stares at you like he's searching for words he can't find.
"That's crazy," he mumbles, looking at his beer. "It's just... Crazy."
"I guess he just didn't like it," you chuckle, amused by his reaction. "Apparently, some guys don't."
"I don't believe that," he says, and there's something about the intense look in his eyes and the hard weight of his words that makes the atmosphere change. You can feel the hair on your arm raising, captivated by his gaze and the stubborn blush on his cheeks.
It makes you want to ask follow-up questions. A lot of them.
But by the time you tear your eyes away from him, Eric knocks into your table, and the rest of the night derails.
It's two days later, and you haven't stopped thinking about that look in his eyes.
Clearly, it was an unexpectedly passionate subject for him, and it hangs in the air like a semicolon. You've never seen him as anything more than a friend, but maybe something changed that night.
You can't believe your eyes when the doorbell rings, and you see him on the monitor, big hat pulled over his hair, fidgeting in the cold. You buzz him up, and put the electric kettle on for some tea. It's unusual for him to show up unannounced.
"I can't let you talk me into watching any more horror movies," you say, in lieu of a greeting, when he pokes his head through the door.
He chuckles, toeing his shoes off in his polite manner.
"Fucks with my head," you continue, watching him hang his coat and take off his hat.
"Alright," he says softly, dimple poking his cheek.
"What's up?" you say, not used to the nervous energy in your body, and so much silence. Usually when he comes around, he's always rambling about a movie, game, or new choreography. He's such a nerd, and it's lovely.
Now he just stops in front of you, all dimple-y and serious.
"I..." he trails off, hands in his pockets, shaking his head and starting over. Is he blushing? "You know at the bar, when you said that thing about your ex?"
"Yeah," you breathe, caught in that look again. He looks like he's fresh from the shower, he smells great, and looks... Good. He's a good-looking guy and he always looks cute, in his hoodies and glasses, his hair tousled and fluffy. This is different. He's in a black t-shirt and jeans, no glasses, his hair parted like it's intentional.
It's like he's made an effort to look this way, and you wish you knew, so you weren't in your usual lazy clothes.
"I was wondering if... If you would let me... eat you out."
He stands there looking intense, as if that isn't an insane thing to say all of a sudden, and you can't help the little yelp/laugh that escapes.
That doesn't deter him, though, and when you stop, he still looks at you dead serious. Blushing, but firm.
"What? You're serious?" you say, suddenly deeply aware of the effect that question had on your body.
He nods, biting the corner of his lip. "I haven't stopped thinking about it since that night."
Well, fuck.
Suddenly, you don't know where to look, eyes darting between the lean lines of his neck and that damn shadow of a dimple.
"It's no pressure, I don't want to overstep, but I just... I'm going a little crazy."
He smiles a little half smile, like he can't believe he's saying what he's saying. To be fair, neither can you.
"Fuck," you breathe, and watch the blush return to his face. When you dare to look him in the eyes again, his pupils are blown wide, intensely fixed on you.
"Is that a 'yes'?" he asks, barely above a whisper. "I trust you to say 'no' if you don't want to."
"Yes."
He exhales, slow and controlled. "Can I kiss you?"
You barely get the word yes out one more time before he snaps, kissing you with such vigor that it knocks you backwards and has you moaning into his mouth.
It never occurred to you that Ji Changmin could move like this, wild and sexy, eyes dark with desire. His hands are everywhere, both desperate and careful, like he's afraid he's taking it too far but can't quite contain himself. It's doing things to you that you haven't felt in what seems like a lifetime.
Maybe it hasn't been quite like this, ever.
"Need you, Min," you gasp, and the noise he makes in response has your knees almost buckling.
You make it to your bedroom somehow, and he slows the two of you down, tugging gently at your clothes.
"Take them off, please," he says, with a deliciously rough edge to his voice.
It's all you can do to oblige. Part of you wants to rip his clothes off, see the muscles you know he's hiding, do things that would make him lose his mind — but the earlier topic lies heavy between you. It's no secret what's about to happen, and you can't pretend it isn't compelling that he wants it so bad.
You're not friends who talk about sex because Changmin isn't the sort of guy to bring it up. It's not like you would mind; you can talk about anything with your friends, but it's nice that he's simply a gentleman like that. He's never talked about exes much, you know he's had relationships, but you're too busy talking about other things, anyways. Or watching his ridiculous scary movies, and the occasional musical.
Now, you can't understand how you haven't seen this in him before. He's got you on your back in the bed, naked, while he's still fully dressed. He looks a little wild, carefully parted hair now tousled and sexy.
"God, you're beautiful," he mumbles, moving down your chest and stomach, taking his time to kiss and caress all the right places. His hands are still careful, and maybe he's like that always, careful and mild, polite. At least until he knows whats okay and not.
But there's still that restrained desperation behind it, the way his eyes roll ever so slightly back when you moan, the tense line of his jaw when your back arches.
The darkness in his eyes.
"I'll make it so good for you," he promises, kissing your pubic mound, slowly pushing your legs up and apart so he can make space for himself.
You're so wet you're almost embarrassed about it, but Changmin looks at you in awe in the low light, breathing labored.
"All for me?" he asks, hungrily, making you shiver.
"Y-yeah," you breathe, lost in it. "All for you."
He groans, from deep in his chest, eyes closing.
He hasn't even touched you yet, not really. So when he does, it's electric, it's incredible.
You gasp and push up on his fingers, his perfect, surprisingly manly hands, for such a lean guy.
It starts with lithe touches to your clit, and you can't bear to watch him, but you know he's looking at you and gauging your reactions, memorizing every twitch and breath.
Then he's applying delicious pressure, circling you with one hand, and pushing into you with the other.
"Oh, fu-uck," you moan, feeling how you clench around his fingers brushing against your g-spot, hearing him groan. Feeling his head fall against your thigh, like he's at his limit.
While he's still (very skillfully) fingering you, slow and calculated and wonderful, he starts kissing your inner thigh. You're already on the verge, gripping on to the sheets for dear life.
"Changmin, please," you plead, to another groan from him before he finally, finally, places a kiss on your clit.
When you gasp at the contact it's like something snaps in him. He full on moans, pushing his whole face in your pussy, hands suddenly holding on to your thighs as if to anchor himself.
"Fuck, you're incredible," he mumbles, licking and sucking everywhere, like he can't get enough.
You brave a look at him and almost come then and there, from the blissful look on his face, his flushed cheeks and seeing, just barely visible, how his hips are grinding against the mattress for friction.
He clearly finds this just as good as you are. Maybe even better.
Now he ups the ante, giving up his vice hold on you in favor of sliding two fingers into you, mouth still working as he pumps in and out. He figures out the angle so it's perfect, making you flutter around him, longing to, hopefully, feel his dick in you like this in the future.
"Pretty girl gonna cum for me?" he breathes, like he could sense you were about to, and that's all it takes for you.
You come harder than you can remember ever doing, back arching almost painfully, seeing white. Changmin works you through it, one hand fucking you slowly, the other pushing down on your stomach to heighten the pleasure even further.
"That's it," he praises, pressing featherlight kisses to your inner thighs, fingers easing out of you before you get overstimulated.
"God, you're perfect," he whispers, climbing up to meet you, hands on your hips to pull you in for a kiss where all you can taste is yourself.
"You're crazy," you smile, kissing him back, feeling like you could die happy just about now. "Don't think I've ever had an orgasm that intense."
"Good," he says, kissing your neck, smiling. "You deserve it. Let me give you another one?"
After round two, and then three, you're about ready to meet an early demise.
"Hold on, pause," you breathe, pulling his hair to get him to sit back.
Your legs are shaking, you pussy aching, and you're starting to feel for Changmin who must be painfully hard at this point with no relief.
"Too much?" he grins, and you sit up to kiss him.
It's messy, his chin is all wet, and you kind of love it.
"Let me return the favor," you say breathlessly, hands wandering to his waist and the front of his jeans.
"Well, I, uh," he starts, when you realize there's a surprising lack of bulge to be found. "I already…"
"You came?" you say, in pure confusion. "From that?"
He blinks, face flushing, and coughs a little embarrassed.
"Fuck," you say, suddenly turned on again beyond belief.
"I'm sorry-"
"No," you interrupt him before he can feel any sort of negative way about it. "That's so fucking sexy. You have no idea."
Changmin blinks in surprise, letting out a breath you didn't know he was holding, and looking devastatingly relieved about it.
"Really, I was just surprised," you assure. "In a good way. I'm so serious."
"Okay," he says, with a happy little laugh. "I can't help it, when it's that good."
"You're killing me," you admit, making him laugh for real.
"You really like that?" he asks, puzzled, smiling at you almost adoringly.
"So much."
"Good. I just… Get carried away. You know?"
You look at him, and feel like it's the first time you're really seeing him. The dancers' frame, the strong shoulders, the long neck. The intense, earnest eyes, the dimples, the beautiful specks of light in his irises. You already know all of it, but now it's like things are making sense.
Instead of saying everything that now burns in your throat, you pull him in for a much sweeter kiss, overcome with emotion.
Gentle, dependable, always-there Changmin.
Who apparently really likes giving head.
"Join me in the shower?" you say, and the room seems so quiet now, foreheads resting against each other. "We don't have to do anything-"
"Oh, but I wanna," he smiles, squeezing your sides. "I want that so much."
"Okay," you say, and it's ridiculous to be feeling shy now, but the way he's looking at you has you squirming in the best way.
"Lead the way," he grins.
"You just wanna see me walk away, naked," you laugh, shoving him.
"Better even it out then," he smirks, pulling his shirt over his head in a smooth motion.
