#no reader

Changbin doesn’t think much of the nagging feeling in his stomach when he goes over the blueprints and the plan again with his teammates. He used to be able to do these hits with extraordinary skill — robbing banks, grocery stores, homes of rich people with more money than they knew what to do with — it was like breathing to him. 

You could say he grew up in this environment, his father teaching him the skills of thievery and his father’s father starting all of this in the first place. Changbin was accustomed to this life. 

So why was it that in recent months — when the police had been on his tail and trying to lure him into traps — he had this terrible nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew it had something to do with that detective. That annoying, nosy, petulant, attractively infuriating detective. 

They had first met when Changbin and his crew had hit one of the bigger banks in the city. They had been working up to that job for weeks, training, going over the plan. But things didn’t exactly go their way. Somehow the cops had arrived earlier than they were supposed to, causing Changbin to stressfully gather his men and rush them out of the back entrance before the building was surrounded. 

Seungmin had been in that back alley. A new detective, still training with one of his superiors. 

They had locked eyes with each other, and Changbin paused for a split second before one of his men pulled him into the back of the van. 

Ever since that job he couldn’t get the boy out of his head. It didn’t help that he was there every time they did a job. Seungmin had gotten closer and closer to catching him, but to Changbin it was a game. He wanted to see how far he could go — how big of a robbery he could pull off before Seungmin inevitably caught him. 

Everytime he planned a hit though he got this annoying, nagging feeling in his gut. Like maybe he should give it up. It began when he saw Seungmin on a night he happened to be out. Changbin had seen him at a bar by himself. He looked rough. 

As Changbin was eavesdropping, he figured out that he was the reason why. This was Seungmin's first investigation by himself. He was leading it and if he didn’t close this case they would transfer him back to the IT department.  

That upset Changbin.

He didn’t like seeing his boy upset. Didn’t like that he was the one causing it. 

Now everytime he planned another hit the nagging feeling got more and more intense. How would his team feel if he just quit, though? He couldn’t do that. Not while he was in charge. 

Changbin and his team were standing around the big table in the middle of the bare warehouse. The warehouse was their home base, and it was under the name of Changbin’s grandmother, so nobody suspected it. 

“This one’s a big one, you guys,” Changbin said, hands on his hips and looking sternly at his crew. “I need everyone focused on their task. If you slip up there's not much I can do to save you.” 

While Changbin cared for his crew, he refused to go down with them if they got caught for not doing their jobs. This was not a ‘leave no man behind’ type of crew. 

“What about the cops? That detective fucker has been on our ass since the Faith Bank job.” Shinjae, the newest recruit, said.

Changbin’s fists clenched slightly at the disrespectful way he referred to Seungmin. He couldn’t show his irritation though. No one knew about his obsession with the boy — not even Seungmin himself. Yet. 

“That’s why you need to be focused. The detective is doing his job just like you need to do yours. Fuck up and you’re on your own.” 

“But how does he keep catching on to us? There’s no way he would kno-” 

He cut himself off as Changbin slammed his fist on the table, the creak it gave protesting the intense force behind the hit. He was irritated, the annoying feeling in his gut not helping. 

“Enough about the detective. We know what we’re doing. Do it right and nothing will go wrong. Got it?” Changbin gritted out. The crew nodded simultaneously, keeping their mouths shut. With a stern voice he ordered them away. 

“Go and get some sleep.” 

And with that, he turned and walked away heading for the staircase that led to the top floor of the warehouse. He intended to get some sleep after looking over the updated blueprints of the bank one last time. He needed to figure out how to handle this new recruit.

__ __ __ __

Two days prior

“They’re gonna hit another one three days from now.” Min Seo said, walking into Seungmin’s office. 

Seungmin raised his head from the pile of paperwork on his desk. If he wasn’t already stressed about the robbery case, the stack of papers on his desk everyday sure would get him there. 

“What? Which one?” He asked. There was a furrow between his brows and bags under his eyes. It was obvious he wasn’t getting much sleep. 

“Elite Holdings, Sir.” she replied, a hand on her hip and the case file in her hand. 

“How do you know this?” Seungmin questioned. The only way he’d been able to track the bank robberies was because there was a pattern. A very distinct one that Changbin —  the leader of the robbery crew ‘Onyx’ who was so good at making Seungmin look incompetent — didn’t seem to realize he was making. 

He infuriated Seungmin. His annoying, loud, greedy, and attractively strategic attitude made Seungmin want to drown himself. He’s become obsessed with this case because of Changbin. 

“There’s a mole.” 

Seungmin shot up from his seat, hands in the desk in front of him and eyes wide.

“A mole? Why wasn’t I made aware of this earlier?” He said accusingly. 

“We just got the tip, Sir.”

Seungmin took his glasses off and sighed, rubbing his eyes. If they were hitting another tomorrow he'd get a chance to catch the group – the main case of his job right now. 

But…he didn’t want to. Call it unprofessional, and he would probably get fired for even thinking about this, but he didn’t want to arrest Changbin. 

To be honest, he wasn’t just obsessed with the case – he was obsessed with Changbin. He’s had a history of doing this – getting so obsessed with someone just from a glance that nothing else matters. The doctor in his hometown had called it obsessive love disorder. This was also why he moved out of his small town to the big city. He needed to start fresh after his last ‘obsession’. 

The first time he saw him in that back alley something in him snapped. The man’s muscular arms, his fiery eyes, and the way he barked orders at his crew made Seungmin want him all to himself, fuck solving the case. 

At that moment Seungmin remembered the comment his junior detective made. There’s a mole.

“Who’s the mole?” Seungmin asked, tone not leaving room for argument. 

“He’s one of the newer recruits. Shinjae Kang. We did a background check on him and it turns out he’s part of the Ivory crew through his father.” The detective informed. 

“Ivory? They haven’t shown themselves for years. What's the point of sending a mole to a different crew?”

The Ivory crew was a big robbery group a few years ago. They were head to head with the Onyx crew when Chanbin’s father was still running it. The only difference between the two groups was that the Ivory crew dealt in drugs as well — as if robbing banks of all their money wasn’t enough of a crime. 

They dropped off of the face of the earth two years ago and law enforcement hasn’t seen them since. If there was a mole from their group, they had to be planning a reappearance. 

Seungmin was lost in thought when it finally hit him. “They’re trying to get rid of them for good so they can go back to doing hits without another group all over their grounds.” He said, an ‘of course’ tone in his words. 

This wasn’t good, if anything it could lead to a bigger situation than it needs to be. “They think that getting them all arrested will take care of the problem for them.” 

“What do we do, Sir? Trust the tip? Be there waiting for them?” 

Seungmin didn’t know what to do. Of course the sensible and obvious thing to do would be to catch them while they’re not expecting the cops there. But Seungmin didn’t want that. He wanted to warn Changbin about the mole in his group.

“Let’s wait and see if we get any more information. I’ll come up with a plan in the meantime.” Seungmin said. His plan right now was to stall operations as much as possible so he could warn Changbin. 

How would he do that, though? That’s another thing he needs to plan. 

__ __ __ __

While he was looking over the blueprints for the Elite Holdings Bank, Changbin got a call. It was an unknown number, which usually he ignores, but something told him to answer this one. 

Before he took the call he folded the bluprint up quickly, set it on his desk, and sat down on his bed. With a clench on his jaw and his hand gripping the phone tightly he accepted the call. 

He was silent, waiting for the other side to say something first. 

“Changbin?” The voice asked. He knew that voice – that sweet smooth voice that he heard in every single one of his dark fantasies. 

“Seungmin,” he said, a teasing lull in his voice. Why was Seungmin calling? How did he get his number? Not that Changbin is complaining. 

“I have information for you,” Seungmin mumbled out, not even questioning how Changbin knew his name. He almost sounded…nervous? Changbin could hear his heavy breathing on the other side of the phone.

“Go on,” Changbin bit his lip with a smirk on his face. He wanted Seungmin so badly and hearing his voice didn’t help. 

“You have a mole.”

Changbin straightened up at that. A mole? In his crew? That’s laughable. He knows better than to let a mole slip through his fingertips. 

Changbin let out a slight scoff. The last thing he would do would call his baby a liar but…

“Who is it?” He asked, tone harsher than he intended. 

“Shinjae. Kang Shinjae,” Seungmin said quickly. 

Ahhhhh, the newbie. The prick who kept asking fucking questions.

“Thank you Seungmin, I’ll handle it.” Changbin said emotionlessly. Before he could hang up, Seungmin rushed out another sentence. 

“He told us about your Elite Holdings hit. My team is planning on meeting you there and apprehending you.” Seungmin said it so fast Changbin almost didn’t catch all of it. 

He had the nerve to give away their plans? Changbin was gonna do more than just handle him.

“Why are you telling me all of this Seungmin-ah? Hmm?” The smooth and amusing tone of Changbin’s voice made Seungmin’s breath stutter.

“I just,” Seungmin paused to clear his throat. “I don’t want them to catch you. I like– um, I like you.”

Changbin felt his mind melt at that sentence. He felt shocked as a smile crept up on his face. There's no way his pretty boy liked him back. Changbin felt elated. 

He wanted Seungmin to be his. He wanted to be able to have him to himself. Grip his waist, attack his lips, and fuck him senseless. Especially after he proved his loyalty to Changbin over his own job. 

Everything was moving so quickly for Changbin he didn’t even hear someone make their way upstairs. Only when they cleared their throat did Changbin snap out of his dazed state. 

Standing at the top of the staircase was Shinjae, the dirty fucking mole that Changbin needed to get rid of. 

He furrowed his brows and held eye contact with Shinjae while saying his goodbyes to Seungmin. 

“We’ll talk about this later, Seungmin-ah,” Changbin said. Tone gentle and easing despite the anger flowing through him at the sight of Shinjae. “I’ll give you a call, okay?” 

“O-oh, okay Changbin, I’ll listen for it,” Seungmin said, slightly upset that the call had to end so soon. He needed to hear Changbin’s voice more.

“Good,” he said, and then hung up the phone. 

Changbin stood up and walked slowly over to Shinjae. All that was running through his mind was his pretty boy and how to deal with this snitching asshole. 

He stopped right in front of him, staring him straight in his eyes so intensely it made Shinjae swallow hard and struggle not to avoid eye contact. Changbin wanted him to feel the anger radiating off of him. He wanted Shinjae to know what he was in for. 

“Do you know who I was just on the phone with? Hm?” Changbin asked, lightly placing his hand on Shinjae's shoulder. He flinched slightly and cleared his throat. 

“No, um, w-who was it?” 

Some fucking nerve this kid must have. Chanbin scoffed and tightened his grip on the new recruits shoulders. “Let’s take a walk, yeah?” 

__ __ __ __

Seungmin was beyond happy. He confessed. He told Changbin he liked him and all he was feeling in that moment was euphoria. He needed Changbin to want him as much as he wanted the older man. He needed him to have the same level of obsession. 

Yesterday, he had figured out how he was gonna tell Changbin. 

Seungmin figured he couldn’t be seen going near his hideout, and he couldn’t use his own phone to call him. The chances that his phone was tapped were high. He’s heard too many stories about law enforcement agents having their devices tapped in case of treason. 

The next best thing? A burner phone. Seungmin bought a little cheap one at the local tech store down the street from his house. The store had been around for decades and was not the best at keeping up with new tech. 

After he bought the burner phone he went back to his house and placed it on the table in his kitchen. 

Was he really going to do this? Betray his duty because of his one-sided loyalty to a criminal? 

Seungmin picked up the phone and dialed Changbin’s number. He had gotten it yesterday from the background check that he had asked Jiyeong, his assistant, to run. 

The more it rang the more Seungmin felt his stomach churn. It wasn’t completely the fact that he was worried about his job, but more so the fact that he was about to talk to Changbin.

After the fifth ring, the call picked up. It was silent and Seungmin knew Changbin was waiting for him to say something. 

“Changbin?” He questioned. He knew it was him, he could feel it, and that feeling alone was making him hot. 

“Seungmin,” Changbin responded. The teasing tone in his voice sent a shiver down Seungmin’s spine. He needed to hear that voice in his ear while he was getting pounded from behind. 

“I have information for you,” Seungmin mumbled. He couldn’t bring himself to raise his voice louder, his nerves taking him over. 

“Go on,” Changbin breathed out. Gosh, if Seungmin were near him right now he’d jump him. 

“You have a mole.” 

Seungmin waited nervously for a response. What if he thought he was lying? What if he got angry at Seungmin for trying to trick him? Seungmin tried to calm his racing thoughts. Changbin would be able to tell if he was speaking the truth. 

Changbin let out a scoff. “Who is it?” he asked, tone so sharp it made Seungmin instinctively curl in on himself. 

Seungmin steeled himself and took a deep breath. “Shinjae. Kang Shinjae,” he let out quickly. 

More silence from Changbin. Seungmin chewed his lip. 

“Thank you Seungmin, I’ll handle it.” Changbin said. There was no emotion in his voice and it made Seungmin’s heart clench a little. 

Before he could hang up on him, Seungmin rushed out his next piece of information. “He told us about your Elite Holdings hit. My team is planning on meeting you there and apprehending you.” 

“Why are you telling me all of this Seungmin-ah? Hmm?” Changbin said smoothly. Seungmin’s breath stuttered at the nickname and the tone he carried. 

“I just,” Seungmin paused and cleared his throat. This is it, Seungmin, you can do it. “I don’t want them to catch you. I like— um, I like you.”

Changbin was gonna kill him with this silence. Now Seungmin was overthinking. He had to like him back. Seungmin had given him multiple signs – he’s even giving him a tip off. 

“We’ll talk about this later, Seungmin-ah,” Changbin said. His tone was so gentle that all of Seungmin's worries eased away. “I’ll give you a call, okay?”

Seungmin’s breath stuttered. “O-oh, okay Changbin, I’ll listen for it,” he said. He didn’t want to hang up on Changbin. He wanted to keep hearing his voice for the rest of the night (and the rest of his life). 

“Good,” Changbin said, and then hung up. 

Seungmin sat there at his kitchen table after the conversation, phone still in his hand, and restraining himself from physically getting up and jumping around his kitchen. Changbin had said ‘good’. That was one step away from him calling Seungmin his good boy. That’s all Seungmin wanted now. 

The question now was, how did he get Changbin to take him to bed and manhandle him until he ruined him for anyone and everyone else. 

— — — — 

Changbin was feeling better this morning. He had called off the hit, even though they had planned it and went over the blueprints for weeks. The team was upset, but there will be other jobs to do. This just gives them more time to plan the next one. 

After burying Shinjae’s body yesterday, he had gone to his private apartment instead of back to the warehouse. Once he was laying in his bed, showered and mind wandering, he envisioned his baby under him, writhing in pleasure. He had got off to that thought, stroking himself until he spilled all over his hand. Something about torturing and killing a traitor really got him going. 

When he woke up, all he could think about was Seungmin still. Seungmin’s body, his hair, his smile, his eyes, the way his eyebrows furrowed when sitting on his bed and looking at case files from work. Everything about him made Changbin want to take him and never let him see the light of day again without Changbin by his side. 

He needed him. He needed him to be in his bed. Changbin wanted him to quit his job and be his little housewife. He wanted to come home to Seungmin on his knees, ready to take him after a long day's work being a criminal. 

Changbin had decided to text him after getting out of bed, brushing his teeth, and making himself breakfast. 

Changbin How’s my baby doing this morning? 

Seungmin replied almost immediately. 

Seungmin I’d be better if you were with me.

Changbin smiled at his phone. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thought about how they hadn’t even known each other for that long, but they texted each other like they had been together for years. 

That’s what obsession will do to you, he figures. 

Changbin I could fix that for you, baby.  You wanna come to my apartment?  I have something to tell you. 

Seungmin What's the address? 

Was Seungmin coming off as too eager? Probably. But Changbin was just as, if not more, eager.

Changbin  143-15 Dongbu-ri, Seonsan-eup Don’t make me wait, sweetheart. 

Seungmin I won’t. Be there in an hour. 

Changbin can’t believe Seungmin is actually coming over. He was so quick to agree, despite never actually meeting him in person. He must be as eager as Changbin is. 

— — — —

Seungmin was shitting himself. Changbin wants him to come over. 

Can he really do this? Changbin is a criminal, right? This would be wrong, right? 

Seungmin convinces himself that he doesn’t care while putting overnight clothes into his bag. Changbin wants him. And who is Seungmin to deny Changbin of what he wants? This is why Seungmin had the reputation he did in his hometown. He got obsessed too easily. But what was the harm if Changbin was equally as obsessed as he was? 

Seungmin goes into his closet and tries to decide what to wear. He shuffles through his dress shirts and work clothes, eventually getting to the back of the closet where he kept his cute clothes hidden away from sight. His skirts, his crop tops, and his lingerie.

He decides on a short little black skirt. It’s flowy and stops just above his mid-thigh, not leaving much to the imagination. He then picks up a crop top, a pretty celadon color, and walks out of his closet to look into his full length mirror. 

Would Changbin like this? Seungmin doesn’t really even know anything about Changbin. He obviously knew less than what Changbin knew about him. He decides he will like it – and what's underneath it – and sprays perfume on himself before heading out of his room.

He takes his longer coat out from the closet, putting it on and covering himself from prying eyes and the cold air, puts his shoes on, grabs his keys, and heads out the door. 

Seungmin’s nerves dissipate as he’s driving. He realises that Changbin is his, and he is Changbin’s. There’s no reason to be nervous or overthink. Changbin will fuck those thoughts right out of him. 

Upon arriving to Changbin’s apartment building, Seungmin feels himself twitch in his pants. The mere thought of seeing Changbin is enough to have Seungmin almost ruining his panties. 

Seungmin grabs his things and lets the elevator lead him to Changbin’s apartment before he gets carried away with his thoughts. 

He stands outside of Changbin’s door, building up the courage to knock. He convinced himself that there’s no reason to be nervous, but he’s feeling butterflies in his stomach that are paralyzing him in place. 

Before he could bring himself to knock on the door, it swings open to reveal Changbin in all his glory. 

He has on sweatpants and the tightest black shirt Seungmin has ever seen in his life. The shirt accentuated his waist and showed how big his arms really are. Seungmin can see his cock showing through his sweatpants like he was fantasizing about him for the last hour in the same way Seungmin was. 

Seungmin stands there, taking him in and struggling to move his eyes from the noticeable bulge in Changbin’s pants. 

Changbin clears his throat and shifts his weight from one leg to the other. Seungmin looks up and makes eye contact with him, shying in on himself at Changbin’s intense gaze. 

“Hi, pretty.” Changbin says, smirking. Seungmin’s throat goes dry at the name as he tries to bring himself to respond. 

“H-hi, Changbin.” 

Changbin bites his lip and opens the door further, reaching out and pulling Seungmin’s arm. He all but yanks him inside before closing the door and slamming him against it. 

Seungmin feels himself harden under his skirt. 

“You’re even prettier up close, baby. How’s that possible?” Changbin whispers. Seungmin thinks he’s going to pass out on the floor. 

His thoughts are so jumbled that he can’t respond, and he realises that he probably should get his act together as Changbin reaches his hand up to the back of Seungmin’s neck and squeezes, making his knees weak and his vision blur. His other hand wraps around his waist, grip so tight and sure to bruise.

“Already losing yourself, baby? We haven’t even started.” Changbin teases, faux concern in his voice and a slight pull of his lips. 

Seungmin whimpers, the sound caught in the back of his throat as Changbin leans closer to him, lips almost touching his. 

“Please, Changbin,” he whines, arching into Changbin’s grip on his waist. 

“Please, what?” Changbin demanded, trailing his fingers down from Seungmin’s neck to his chest. He was dangerously close to touching Seungmin’s sensitive nipple through his shirt, causing him to start breathing more heavily. “Tell me what you want, baby.” 

“I want you,” Seungmin admitted breathlessey. “Want you to fuck me, Bin, make me yours.” 

Changbin’s eyes darkened with lust and he spun Seungmin around, slamming him harder against the wall. Seungmin’s eyes rolled back at the rough treatment and he felt his hard cock throb. “That’s more like it,” he said darkly into his ear, grinding his erection against Seungmin’s ass. “You want me to fuck you right here, baby? Against the wall like a slut?” 

All Seungmin could think was yesyesyes. He barely registered what Changbin was asking, all the blood in his brain rushing to his cock.

Changbin chuckled in Seungmin’s ear, obviously noticing how gone he already was, not even able to voice his thoughts. He turned Seungmin back around and picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder and walking toward his large bedroom. 

Seungmin came back to himself slightly when he hit the bed, letting out a pathetic whimper. 

“Please, Bin..please– want you to use me, make me scream.” Seungmin whimpered out, squeezing his thighs together to try and get some friction on his painful erection. 

Changbin chuckled at his pathetic state. He leaned down and hovered over him, his arms on either side of Seungmin. He felt small under Changbin, he was so big above him, so warm. 

“Take off your clothes for me, Minnie. Wanna see you,” Changbin demanded softly. 

Seungmin was quick to obey, ridding himself of his shirt and reaching down to slide his skirt off.

Once the skirt was off, he layed back down, opening his legs for Changbin to see what he was hiding underneath. He had white, lacey, see-through, tiny lingerie under his skirt, his red and leaky cock mostly covered because of his size. 

Changbin’s throat went dry as he swallowed. His eyes got even darker, taking in the sight of his pretty boy in pretty panties. Seungmin could see him struggle to take his eyes away from Seungmin’s cock, squirming in place at his intense stare. 

“Don’t move,” Changbin ordered, hands moving to grip Seungmin’s hips.  

Seungmin stopped moving and smiled softly as he saw realization dawn on Changbin’s face. He must have seen that he had a plug in, obviously prepared for tonight. 

“Oh how pretty, baby. Is this all for me? Hmm?” Changbin asked, looking Seungmin in the eye. 

“Y-yeah, Bin. Wanted to be ready for you.” 

Changbin smiled proudly and Seungmin was about two seconds away from melting. He could feel the heat in his cheeks, could feel the heat in his whole body caused by making Changbin proud. 

“So good for me, yeah?” Changbin said, sitting up and tugging his shirt off. “So eager,” he taunted, delivering a sharp smack to Seungmin’s ass. “I love how much you want me.” 

He continued to tease Seungmin mercilessly, running his hands up and down Seungmin’s torso and lightly grazing over his nipples. He pulled his panties down and tossed them onto the floor behind him, taking Seungmin’s body in – his tiny waist, his soft thighs, his cute cock. Changbin couldn’t get enough. 

Seungmin whined out as Changbin reached for the plug in his ass. He pulled it out slightly before pushing it back in and grinding it into him. 

“Please, please..” Seungmin let out breathlessly. He was so hard it hurt and he needed to be wrapped around Changbin’s thick cock immediately. 

Changbin smirked at his slight begging, pulling the plug out completely and dropping it beside him on the bed. He circled his hole with a finger, not quite breaching him yet. He bit his lip at how wet Seungmin was with lube, so ready and eager. 

“Binnie,” Seungmin whined out. He was getting restless and squirmy. He was so impatient for Changbin’s cock. “Fuck me, please…fill me up. Want your cock so bad.” 

“That’s it, baby,” Changbin cooed mockingly. “Let me hear how much you want it.” 

Seungmin moaned as Changbin finally pushed two fingers inside, feeling how stretched out he was. He scissored them inside Seungmin, stretching his hole open to see how much he would be able to take. Seungmin bit his lip, accidentally stifling his moans. 

Changbin slapped his thigh hard, making Seungmin let out a loud cry. “Let me hear you, baby. Need to hear every single pathetic little sound you let out.” 

Seungmin was dangerously close to cumming, simply from the feel of Changbin’s fingers and the sting of the slap on his thigh. 

“Wan’ it, Bin. Want you to fuck me hard.” Seungmin begged. His words were getting less and less coherent as Changbin kept teasing him. 

Changbin groaned and reached his hand up to grip Seungmin’s neck, cutting off his airflow. “I’m gonna ruin your tight little hole, baby. You want that?” 

Seungmin whined loudly as he nodded frantically, almost giving himself whiplash. 

Changbin pulled his sweatpants off, releasing his thick, hard cock. He groaned as he wrapped a hand around it, giving himself a few strokes. He grabbed the lube off of his nightstand and squirted a large amount onto his cock. He threw the lube beside him on the bed and stroked himself faster, getting lost in the pleasure. Seungmin wanted to cry from how bad he wanted it in him. 

Changbin made eye contact with Seungmin, his gaze intense and dark. Seungmin could feel the tears well up in his eyes from how desperate he was. Changbin felt himself throb at the tears in Seungmin’s eyes. 

“Gonna give it to you, baby.” Changbin groaned and lined himself up, pushing forward until the head popped past Seungmin’s rim. “That’s it, baby,” he growled. “Take my cock like a good boy, hmm?” 

Seungmin’s eyes rolled back as he felt Changbin sink into him inch by inch, stretching him wide and making him feel every thick vein and ridge. He scrambled at Changbin’s arms, trying to pull him closer and ground himself. 

“Fuck, you’re so big,” he panted when Changbin was fully inside him. “Feels s’good, stretching me open.” He whimpered. 

Changbin rolled his hips experimentally and they both moaned at the sensation. “You were made for my cock,” he rumbled, starting to move faster and squeezing his hand around Seungmin’s neck. 

He built up a steady rhythm, slamming into Seungmin’s prostate with every thrust. Seungmin could feel him in his throat. He was so big and thick and stretched him out in the best way. Seungmin couldn’t even talk. He could only let out desperate little whines with each thrust. 

The bed creaked beneath them as Changbin fucked him hard and deep, so deep, grunting with effort. 

“Gonna fuck you until you’re crying on my cock,” Changbin snarled, gathering Seungmin’s wrists and pinning them above his head with one hand, the other moving from his throat to press down on his stomach to feel himself move in and out of Seungmin. “Gonna fuck you full of cum until it’s leaking out of you.” 

“Yes, yes! fuck, “ Seungmin mummbled mindlessly, lost in the pleasure. “Wan’ your cum! Breed me, please, fill me up.”

Changbin could feel his orgasm building rapidly as Seungmin clenched down on him like a vice. He reached between their sweat slicked bodies and grabbed Seungmin’s small cock. He was leaking pre-cum and so wet that Changbin easily jerked him off in time with his thrusts.

“Cum for me,” he commanded harshly, rubbing his thumb roughly over Seungmin’s slit. “Cum on my cock like the good boy you are.” 

With a loud moan, Seungmin obeyed, his release spurting out to paint his stomach and chest. His ass clenched around Changbin’s cock, milking him as he came. His moans tapered off into whimpers as Changbin kept fucking into him, not slowing his pace. 

“You think you’re done, baby?” Changbin asked, rolling his hips smoothly into Seungmin. “Think I can’t make this greedy hole take more?” 

Seungmin whimpered and his eyes rolled back into his head as he felt his oversensitive cock twitch in between them. “I don’t know if I can,” he admitted shakily. “It’s too much,” 

Changbin chuckled darkly and reached for the lube again, pouring some out directly over Seungmin’s hole as he was still fucking into him, the wet sounds getting louder as Seungmin was made messier. “Nonsense,” he said firmly, pushing himself harder into Seungmin. “I’m nowhere near finished with you.” 

He let go of Seungmin’s wrists and brought his hand down to Seungmin’s nipples, squeezing them and watching as Seungmin shook with pleasure. 

“Such a needy boy for me,” Changbin rumbled approvingly, seeing how Seungmin took his cock so well. 

His hands gripped Seungmin’s waist possessively, leaning down and taking one of his sensitive nipples into his mouth. Seungmin arched into him at the stimulation, his nerves feeling fried from the heat running through his body. 

He could only moan brokenly as Changbin used him, reducing him to a brainless puddle of pleasure. His cock was already leaking again, hard and aching against his stomach. 

“Gonna make you cum again, baby,” Changbin promised with a smirk on his face, his thrusts not even tiring him out. “Gonna force it out of you until you can’t cum anymore.” 

“Pl’se, n-need it,” Seungmin panted, his mind foggy and body trembling as he teetered on the edge of another orgasm. 

“Shhh,” Changbin soothed mockingly, fucking into him harder. He groaned at the sound of his hips meeting Seungmin’s ass so aggressively. “You can take it. Gonna fill your pretty little hole up until it’s running down your thighs.” 

Seungmin sobbed and whined as Changbin leaned down and started mouthing against his neck. He could feel the blood rush to the spot Changbin was sucking. Marking him up all over his neck so that everyone knew. He wanted them to know Seungmin was his and his only. 

Changbin couldn’t get enough of fucking into his baby’s wet hole. He found the little sweet spot just below Seungmin’s ear and bit down harshly, nearly drawing blood. 

Seungmin let out a loud moan as his hips bucked up, briefly grinding his cock against Changbin’s stomach. He wanted Changbin to bite him all over, wanted him to make people know that Seungmin was owned. 

Changbin kept thrusting into Seungmin, hitting his prostate head on. He could feel his release building, wanting to make Seungmin cum a second time. 

“Cum for me, baby. I know you can do it.” He said, panting loudly and groaning at the rhythmic clenching of Seungmin's walls. He could tell he was close to cumming. “Cum all over my cock so I can fill you up, pretty. Need to cum inside you, breed you.” 

That did it for Seungmin. He felt his body go rigid and heard himself let out the loudest most pornographic moan he’s ever heard from himself. His orgasm crashed over him, ass clenching down on Changbin’s cock in pulses. His release slowly dribbled out of his red, throbbing cock despite how intense it felt. 

Changbin groaned as Seungmin’s tight hole milked him, burying himself deep one last time to fill Seungmin with his cum. He took Seungmin’s hands into his own, intertwining their fingers and riding out the waves of his orgasm. They shuddered together as they came down, Changbin’s softening cock still buried inside Seungmin’s loose hole. 

“You did so good, baby,” Changbin praised breathlessly, nuzzling into Seungmin’s damp hair. “Took my cock so well. Such a good boy.”

Seungmin could only whimper in response, completely spent. Changbin smiled and pulled out carefully, watching as his release dripped out of Seungmin's used hole. 

He gathered some on his fingers and pushed it back inside, making Seungmin moan weakly. “Keep it in you,” Changbin ordered gruffly. “Let it take.” 

Seungmin’s cock gave a little twitch as he nodded obediently and curled into Changbin’s side as he pulled him into a loose embrace. They laid together silently for a while, basking in the afterglow. 

“You still wanna arrest me?” Changbin asked eventually, nuzzling into Seungmin's hair. 

Straightens just in time, because Price turns back at the door, cocking a brow. "Solid, sarge?" The captain is staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Waiting for Gaz to confirm that he's fine because if Gaz isn't fine that means Price will have failed. He will have been unable to protect one of his men from an injury.

Gaz dips his head, nodding, purely focused on keeping his expression smooth while he lies. "Solid, cap. Just thinking."

They're at an impasse for a moment, Gaz trapped beneath the weight of his captain's icy gaze. But Price just shrugs, turning and moving on. After a moment, Gaz does too. He can still feel the residual aches snapping up and down his limbs, muscles throbbing as he walks back to his quarters.

He'll be fine. This will pass. The pain always leaves him eventually, so he'll go to rest, sleep this off, and deal. It will be fine. He'll be fine.

The walk back to his quarters is simple enough, quiet. They'd gotten back relatively late, so most soldiers were already asleep. Most soldiers, but not Soap, jogging down the hall like he hadn’t been awake for the same fifteen hour trip home Gaz had been on. And promptly, much to Gaz’s chagrin, Soap skids to a stop, pinwheeling his arms when he nearly falls flat on his face.

Really, Kyle should have expected this. Expected the all too boisterous voice from his all too perceptive friend. "Gaz? You look tired, what's wrong?" Johnny's head is tilted, eyes wide and practically staring straight into Kyle's soul, a trait he's definitely inherited from the captain.

And yet, Kyle can't help but (mentally) cringe back. He may not be the youngest person on the taskforce, but he is the one newest to the military. [Even if it is only by a year or so.] He can't be so needy so soon. He can't have to step back so soon. He just can't.

So Kyle just shakes his head and shrugs. "We've been awake for almost a day. No shit I'm a little tired." He means it to come off sarcastic, another one of his snarky little quips to ease the tension he feels. Clearly, it works, based on the way Soap barks a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder before moving on. Gaz feels it down to his bones, shooting down his spine with shocks of electricity through his bones. A nap is definitely required.

After that, Kyle’s thinking surely, surely now, he can go to his room and rest, free from the utter exhaustion that is this bullshit day. That has to be it, right? No more conversations, no more questions, just a good, honest, nap.

But no. Of course not. Because Kyle turns the last corner to the dormitory hall, and can see his bedroom door. And can see Ghost leaning in front of it, head tilted back to rest against the wall while he waits. Given that he’s a sniper, there’s no out-waiting Ghost, and no getting around him either, since he’s planted himself directly in front of Gaz’s door. As Ghost would say, fuckin’ hell…

He approaches, well aware of the conversation that's about to happen, already building the mental walls. Approaching his door, Kyle sees the exact moment Ghost shifts, and he groans mentally. Halting at the door, Kyle stares up at him and waits. Just waits.

Simon looks down at him, eyes so brown they're almost black, and grunts. Grunts in that soft way that nonverbally means 'Status?' Kyle's well familiar with the tone from missions together, the soft sound coming over the comms to check in. It almost makes Kyle break, almost has his walls crumbling, knowing the most closed off member of his team waited to make sure he was alright.

But it doesn't. Kyle cocks a grin that looks real, his surety and swagger fake as he tries so hard to make Simon believe. "Green, LT. Perfectly fine." Another lie that sends a punishing bolt of pain down his spine.

He quickly checks his phone again, seeing the same text he got from Sam a few minutes earlier saying that Joaquin was finally out of surgery, but there were no further updates since then. 

Bucky heaves a heavy sigh. Injuries were going to happen, it’s the nature of the job, but he can’t help but feel like he’s directly responsible this time. If only he hadn’t frozen out there like a deer caught in a pair of headlights, then the kid would’ve been spared the injury. 

What the hell even happened? Bucky has seen more than his fair share of violence—explosions, gunfire, everything in between—but he’d never even flinched before today. 

Why did he stop then, why did he want to shrink away today instead of retaliate? He knows what Dr. Raynor would say, what everyone chooses not to—PTSD. Strange, having seventy years of unspeakable trauma boiled down to just four letters. 

It’s just his luck that the serum which kept him alive all these years could slow down aging, could fix bruises, mend broken bones, and repair wounds that would be devastating to any regular man in record time, but it could not fix his damn brain. 

He gets a new text from Sam just then. The kid’s awake and already flirting with his nurse. They’re sending him home the day after tomorrow. 

Bucky breathes a short sigh of relief, but his other hand is still clenched tightly at his side. He forces himself to ease his grip, reaching into his pocket for his keys. 

He doesn’t know what to say yet, so he doesn’t respond to Sam’s text right away. He’s never been good at this whole texting thing. Instead, he unlocks the door and opens it, footsteps faltering when he’s instantly hit in the face with a cloud of warmth that smells of something sweet. 

Brows furrowing in confusion, he removes his shoes and places them on the rack by the door, in between a pair of familiar boots and another pair of sneakers that aren’t his.

There are paintings hung up on the walls that used to be bare, a brown leather jacket hung up on the coat rack next to the door, and another set of keys already sitting in the bowl on the table. 

Flowers in a vase on the coffee table, books littering the shelves, and the sounds of someone tinkering in the kitchen—constant reminders that Bucky no longer lives alone. 

It’s why he doesn’t like bringing work home with him anymore. It didn’t used to matter when he was alone, but he wants to be considerate towards his new roommate. 

Steve is only six months into retirement, after all. 

It’s a sight Bucky’s still not used to. Steve is facing the stove, his front cloaked under a plain dark blue apron as he grabs a potholder and pulls something out of the oven. 

So domestic, he thinks. Even back in the 40s, when Bucky began staying over at the Rogers’ brownstone more often so his best friend wouldn’t feel too lonely in the early days after Sarah’s passing, it didn’t feel anything like this. 

Maybe because back then, even though it was always ‘till the end of the line and even when I had nothing I had you, neither of them really acknowledged what this was. 

“You’re home!” Steve’s voice snaps him back to the present, and his eyes refocus to see a tray of freshly baked cupcakes, perfectly golden-yellow on the tops, being set down onto the counter. “Ack, I wanted to surprise you.” 

“Surprise me?” 

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” For one comical moment, Bucky tries to remember if he’s forgotten some kind of anniversary. “…You okay?” 

That catches him a bit off guard. He tries so hard, yet it’s never easy hiding things from Steve, the only person who could read the micro-expressions on his face as though they were written in ink for all to see. 

“I’m good,” Bucky says noncommittally, swallowing hard before changing the subject. “What did I forget?” 

Steve bristles a bit at that, a loaded question if there ever was one. “It’s your birthday, Buck.” 

He’s stunned for a minute, had indeed forgotten, but memories have a funny way of surprising you. He hasn’t celebrated a birthday in such a long time, nor has he ever had cause to remember, but the smell of the cupcakes brings something back, almost like a vision—

A woman and three young girls, smiling and giggling and smothering his cheeks with kisses, presenting him with a three layered white cake with vanilla frosting and rainbow sprinkles.

A stern-looking man watched, peeking over the top of his newspaper, the hint of a smile in his eyes betraying a thinly veiled affection. 

And of course, Steve, back when he was much smaller, eyes crinkling warmly at the corners as he and the rest of Bucky’s family clapped and sang happy birthday. 

“I didn’t think I could bake a whole cake like Winnie used to,” Steve scratches underneath his eye a bit sheepishly. Despite himself, Bucky feels the corners of his mouth lifting. “But these came out of a box and I’m pretty good at following instructions, so they should be good.” 

“They smell good,” Bucky says with a small smile.

Steve pops a cupcake out of one of the tins, using a butter knife to spread some vanilla frosting over the top. He chuckles quietly when it starts to melt, the cake still warm from the oven, and carefully hands it over. Bucky takes it with an almost shy little smile. 

He’ll tell Steve about the mission later, he decides, because he knows Steve of all people would understand. Even if he didn’t, at least he would listen—without judgment, without expectations, without any unsolicited advice. But for now, Bucky wants to enjoy this quiet moment for just a little longer. 

Remember what this feels like, he tells himself, for future bad days. Because there will be a lot of them. 

But as long as Steve’s here, this is what it feels like to be alright. 

“Happy birthday, jerk,” Steve says, his voice low and soft. Bucky looks up at him expectantly. “Shut up, I’m not singing.” 

“Coward,” Bucky laughs as he shakes his head before taking a large bite. His cheeks are warm and he stares down at the half-eaten cupcake, dotted with rainbow sprinkles that look like bits of confetti—just like Ma used to make ‘em. But to offset some of the shyness he’s feeling under Steve’s watchful eye and crooked little smile, Bucky mutters with his mouth full, “You’re a punk.” 

His best friend in the entire world—his balm against the ache of a lifetime gone by, his steadfast tether in this otherwise turbulent sea of confusion and woe—just grins. 

Steve helps himself to one of the treats, blue eyes sparkling just like the boy from Bucky’s memories as their gazes meet. Bucky grabs a napkin and smushes it against a smear of frosting on Steve’s nose.

“Ow, easy!” Steve hisses, batting away Bucky’s metal hand with a huff. 

Something swells in his chest as he takes another bite, and Bucky thinks he can finally acknowledge it now. 

It tastes like love.

fin.

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It is after practice, the room humid and loud with complaints and laughter. Chan laughs mid sentence and then just stops, hand pressing flat to his forearm like he has been burned.

“Hyung?” Jisung is the first to notice. “What’s wrong?”

Chan stares at his arm, eyes wide and unfocused. His soulmark is glowing. Literally glowing. Letters forming where there were none before.

Felix sucks in a sharp breath. His own mark is warm. Not painful. Just awake.

Seungmin’s fingers curl into his sleeve. “It’s happening.”

That is when Minho’s wrist starts to pulse. Hard. Fast. Like it is trying to escape his skin.

Changbin feels it at the same time. The weight in his chest drops, settles, anchors. For the first time in his life, it feels right.

They lock eyes across the room.

It is not romantic. Not soft. It is recognition.

Minho swallows. “Do you feel that?”

Changbin nods once. He cannot speak yet. If he opens his mouth, he thinks he might say something irreversible.

Jisung’s voice is quiet. Reverent. “Your marks are syncing.”

The heartbeat on Minho’s wrist steadies. Slows. Matches something that is not his own.

Changbin exhales. Long. Shaky. The pressure in his chest finally releases, leaving warmth behind instead of ache.

“Minho,” he says, like he has just learned how to say it correctly.

Something clicks.

Not fireworks. Not fate screaming. Just the certainty that this has always been true, whether they knew it or not.

Felix grins, eyes shining. “That makes so much sense.”

Minho snorts despite himself. “Does it?”

Chan laughs softly, relief threaded through it. “You two have been orbiting each other since day one.”

Seungmin tilts his head. “Soulmates don’t always start as lovers. Sometimes they start as friction.”

Changbin looks at Minho. Really looks. At the sharp lines and familiar scowl and the way Minho always stands just a little too close without noticing.

“Oh,” Changbin says. “We’re screwed.”

Minho’s lips twitch. “Yeah. Probably.”

The rest of them feel it too. The shift. The way the group tightens, aligns, like a lock clicking shut. Their marks glow or warm or hum in quiet agreement.

Eight souls. Intertwined.

Not owned. Not forced. Just chosen.

Minho reaches out first. He does not grab. Does not pull. Just presses two fingers to Changbin’s wrist, right over the place where a mark would be if Changbin had one.

Changbin’s breath stutters.

“Guess we stop pretending now,” Minho says.

Changbin smiles. Soft. Real. “Guess we do.”

Around them, Stray Kids settles back into noise and laughter and teasing. But something fundamental has shifted.

Not because fate decided.

Because it finally caught up.

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