#overwhelmed reader

"I love you so much," he whispered, the vibration of his words sending a shiver down your spine. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes shimmering with an intensity that felt like it could swallow you whole. "I’m never letting you go. You’re stuck with me, okay? Always."

It wasn't just the words; it was the way he said them, as if he were making a vow to the universe. In the heightened state of the moment, with your senses already frayed by the passion of his touch, the sheer weight of his love hit you like a wave. Your chest tightened, not with sadness, but with a fullness that felt too big to contain. Before you could stop it, a single, hot tear escaped, tracking a slow path toward your temple.

Chan felt the dampness against his thumb immediately. He froze. The passion in his eyes vanished, replaced instantly by a sharp, jagged flash of panic. He bolted upright, hovering over you with his breath hitched in his throat.

"Wait—did I hurt you? Did I do something wrong?" His voice was frantic, his hands hovering over your shoulders as if he were afraid to touch you and break you further. "I’m sorry, I didn't mean to—"

A small, breathless laugh bubbled up in your throat, cutting through his spiraling worry. You reached up, your fingers brushing against the soft curls at the nape of his neck, and gently wiped the stray tear away.

"Chan, no," you murmured, your voice a little shaky but warm. You looked up at him, your eyes bright with a different kind of fire. "You didn't do anything wrong. I’m okay, I promise. I’m just... I’m overwhelmed. You just make me really happy."

The tension bled out of his shoulders in a visible rush. He let out a long, shaky exhale, a self-deprecating smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he realized he’d overreacted. The panic in his eyes melted back into that deep, molten affection.

"You scared me for a second, love," he breathed, leaning back down. He pressed a lingering, sweet kiss to your cheek, right where the tear had been, before moving to the other side to do the same. "Don't cry. I just want you to feel good."

He pulled back just far enough to catch your gaze one more time, his grin turning a little more wicked, a little more confident. When he lowered his head to capture your lips again, the kiss was deeper than before—a silent promise to show you exactly how much he meant every word he’d said.

Leeknow

The heavy thud of your back hitting the wood of the front door echoed through the silent hallway, but the sound was immediately swallowed by the heat of Lee Know’s mouth against yours. He didn’t give you a chance to catch your breath, crowding into your space until there wasn't a single inch of air left between you. His hands were firm, pinning your wrists lightly against the doorframe, his kiss hungry and demanding—the kind of kiss that told you exactly how much he had missed you during his long hours at the studio.

He moved with a frantic sort of energy, his lips crashing against yours with a rough intensity that made your head spin. You melted into him, your fingers tangling in the soft hair at the base of his neck to pull him closer, if that was even possible. Every time you tried to draw air, he followed the movement, chasing your lips as if he were starved for the taste of you.

In the brief, flickering gaps between his desperate kisses, you found your voice. It was small, breathless, and laced with a vulnerability that only he ever saw.

"Minho," you whispered against his lips, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. "I love you. I love you so much."

The effect was instantaneous. Lee Know stiffened, his body going rigid against yours. The rough friction of his movements ceased entirely. He pulled back just a few inches, his chest heaving as he fought for breath. His eyes, usually sharp and guarded with a layer of playful mischief, were now dark and searching.

He raised one hand, his fingers grazing your jawline before settling firmly against the door next to your head. He looked down at you, his expression uncharacteristically serious, almost stern.

"Do you really mean that?" he asked. His voice was a low, gravelly rasp that sent a shiver straight to your core. There was a raw honesty in his gaze, a rare glimpse of the man who hid behind witty barbs and stoic silence. He needed to hear it again; he needed to know it wasn't just the adrenaline of the moment talking.

You didn't hesitate. A soft smile broke across your face, and you leaned forward to press a quick, firm kiss to his lips—a punctuation mark to your feelings.

"I mean it," you said, your voice steady and warm. You reached up to cup his face, looking directly into his eyes so he couldn't mistake the sincerity there. "I mean every single word, Minho. I love you."

For a long heartbeat, he just looked at you. He scanned your face as if searching for a hint of doubt, but he found nothing but devotion. A slow, dark smirk began to curl the corner of his mouth—the look of a man who had just been given everything he wanted and intended to make the most of it.

The tenderness of the pause evaporated in a heartbeat. Without a word, he gripped your waist, his fingers digging in slightly as he roughly pulled you away from the door. Before you could even register the change in direction, he led you toward the bedroom with a sudden, predatory focus.

He didn't stop until you reached the edge of the mattress. With a sudden surge of strength, he hoisted you up and tossed you back onto the bed. You landed against the soft duvet with a soft "oomph," your hair splaying out around you. He didn't give you a second to recover, hovering over the foot of the bed with a look of pure, unadulterated intent.

"Good," he growled, his eyes locked onto yours. "Because I'm not going to let you forget it."

Changbin

The golden glow of the bedside lamp cast long, flickering shadows across the room, but your entire world had narrowed down to the man beneath you. You were seated firmly on Changbin’s lap, your legs framing his broad torso, moving in a slow, punishingly deliberate rhythm. The air in the room was thick and humid, heavy with the scent of skin and the low, guttural sounds of his breath hitching every time you shifted your weight.

Changbin’s hands, thick and powerful, were anchored firmly to your hips. He wasn't just holding you; he was guiding you, his thumbs digging slightly into your skin as he pushed upward to meet your every downward stroke. His dark eyes were fixed on yours with a searing intensity, watching the way your expression flickered with every wave of friction.

He tightened his grip, his knuckles turning white against the curve of your thighs, and pulled you down until your chests were flushed together. You could feel the frantic thud of his heart against your own, a wild, syncopated rhythm.

"You have no idea," he rasped, his voice a deep, gravelly vibration that seemed to echo inside your chest. He tilted his head back, a sharp groan escaping him as you ground against him, but he didn't break eye contact for more than a second. "You’re so beautiful. Like this... looking down at me... you’re the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen."

A shy, breathless chuckle bubbled up in your throat. You tried to focus on the heat pooling in your lower stomach, the way the friction was building into something unbearable, but his gaze was too heavy to ignore. "Changbin, stop," you whispered, your voice trembling as you picked up the pace.

"I’m serious," he insisted, his voice dropping an octave, becoming a raw, commanding growl. He sat up further, his muscular arms wrapping around you to pull you into a crushing embrace, even as you continued to move. "I mean it. Every part of you is perfect. I don’t think I could breathe if I didn't have you right here."

The sheer, unvarnished weight of his honesty hit you harder than the physical pleasure. You stopped mid-motion, your body trembling with the effort of holding back his name, as the gravity of his words settled over you. You looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the absolute, terrifying devotion in his eyes. It was too much. The intensity of the intimacy, combined with the feeling of being so thoroughly worshipped, caused a sudden, sharp sting behind your eyelids. Your vision blurred as your eyes grew glassy, a stray tear finally spilling over.

Changbin noticed the change instantly. The predatory heat in his eyes softened into a look of pure, melting concern. He let out a soft, surprised chuckle, his thumb reaching up to catch the moisture on your cheek.

"Hey, why are you tearing up on me, baby?" he asked softly, his tone light but laced with a deep, protective warmth. "Did I get too sappy for you?"

You let out a helpless, watery laugh, leaning down to hide your face in the crook of his neck, your teeth grazing his skin. "No," you sniffled, your voice thick and muffled. "You’re just... you’re so wonderful, Changbin. It makes me feel like I’m going to burst."

He let out a long, relieved breath, his arms tightening around you in a way that made you feel completely shielded from the world. He tipped your head back, his face splitting into a wide, triumphant grin.

"I love that you think I'm wonderful," he teased, his eyes flickering with a renewed, dark hunger as he felt you shift against him again. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a promise of what was to come. "But I don't want you crying. I want to hear you say my name instead."

He nipped at your lower lip, his hands sliding down to give your hips a firm, encouraging pull. You laughed through the last of your tears, the tension breaking into a fresh wave of heat, and as you began to move again, he met every movement with a fierce, unwavering devotion.

Hyunjin

The air in the bedroom was thick and humid, heavy with the lingering electricity of the last hour. You lay tangled in the sheets, your skin slick with a fine sheen of sweat, your chest rising and falling in jagged, shallow breaths that mirrored Hyunjin’s own.

After a few minutes of drifting in that hazy, post-sex bliss, you let out a light, airy laugh. You shifted, bracing your elbows against the mattress to sit up, feeling the cool air hit your bare skin. "I should probably go get a glass of water," you murmured, your voice sounding foreign and raspy in the quiet room.

You didn't get far. Before you could even swing your legs over the edge of the bed, a long, elegant arm hooked around your waist. With a gentle but firm tug, Hyunjin pulled you back down into the nest of pillows. You tumbled against him, your back landing against his chest as he immediately wrapped himself around you like a vine, his long limbs tangling with yours.

He propped himself up on one elbow, hovering over you. His hair was a chaotic mess, damp strands clinging to his forehead, but his eyes were soft—molten and dark with an affection that felt almost heavy. He reached out, his long fingers trembling slightly as he brushed a few stray hairs away from your eyes, tucking them behind your ear with painstaking slowness.

"Stay," he whispered, his voice a low, melodic hum. He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, inhaling deeply. "You smell so amazing. I don't want you to go anywhere."

You let out another giggle, shifting slightly as his breath tickled your skin. "Hyunjin, I definitely don't," you pointed out, your tone playful. "I smell like sweat and... well, sex. I probably smell like a gym."

He didn't pull away. Instead, he let out a low, vibratory hum of disagreement against your skin. He began to trail soft, lingering kisses along the line of your neck, his lips moving with a deliberate, agonizingly sweet pace. "Exactly," he murmured between kisses. "This is the smell I love. It’s the smell of you belonging to me. It’s my favorite thing in the world."

The sheer intimacy of the statement made your breath hitch. You turned your head slightly to look at him, your hearts still beating in close proximity. Hyunjin moved his lips to the sensitive skin just beneath your ear, his voice dropping to a feather-light whisper that seemed to vibrate straight into your soul.

"Everything about you is perfect," he breathed. "Your spirit, the way you look at me... just everything. You’re perfect."

You blinked, a sudden wave of surprise washing over you. You searched his face, looking for even a hint of hyperbole or the "dramatic" flair he was known for, but you found only a raw, terrifyingly honest sincerity.

"Do you... do you really mean that?" you asked, your voice barely audible.

Hyunjin didn't hesitate. He gave a slow, solemn nod, his gaze locking onto yours with a focus so intense it felt like he was reading your very thoughts. The weight of being seen so completely, of being told you were perfect in a moment where you felt so raw and unpolished, was the breaking point. You felt your eyes grow hot and glassy, the edges of your vision blurring as tears welled up.

He noticed the change instantly. A soft, breathless laugh escaped him—not out of mockery, but out of a sort of tender disbelief that his words could move you so much. "Are you crying, my love?"

You laughed helplessly through the first tear that escaped, reaching up to swipe at your eyes. "I'm fine," you assured him, your voice thick with emotion. "I’m just... I’m fine. You just say the most beautiful things at the most unexpected times."

He smiled, a wide, genuine expression that reached his eyes, and leaned down to kiss the path of your tear. "I only say what's true," he promised, pulling you even closer until there was no space left between you at all.

Han

The sound of the key fumbling in the lock was the only warning before the door swung open and the two of you stumbled into the apartment in a tangled, frantic mess. There was no patience left, no slow build-up—only the desperate need to be close. Han’s hands were everywhere at once, tugging at the hem of your shirt while your own fingers fumbled with the buttons of his jacket. It was chaotic and clumsy; at one point, his foot caught on the edge of the rug, sending you both reeling against the hallway wall with a dull thud and a burst of startled laughter.

"Wait, wait," Han gasped against your lips, though he didn't stop kissing you for a second. His hands moved with a frenetic energy, finally winning the battle with your zipper. He looked like a man possessed, his hair a wild halo around his face, his eyes blown wide and dark with a mixture of adrenaline and pure adoration. "You have no idea... how good you look. Seriously, how are you even real?"

He punctuated every word with a hard, bruising kiss—one on your mouth, one on your jaw, another on the sensitive pulse point of your neck. "I’m the luckiest guy on the planet. I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’m never letting you go."

You giggled, the sound breathless and high as his hands slid beneath the fabric of your pants, his touch hot against your skin. The sheer "Han-ness" of the moment—the frantic pace, the vocal praise, the clumsy urgency—made your heart swell. "Jisung, stop being so dramatic," you whispered, though you arched into his touch, your fingers tightening in his hair.

He stopped then, his movements freezing as he braced his forearms against the wall on either side of your head. He pulled back just far enough to look you directly in the eyes. The playful, chaotic energy didn't disappear, but it was suddenly layered with a heavy, grounding sincerity that made the air in the hallway feel still.

"I’m serious," he said, his voice dropping from a frantic rasp to a low, steady murmur. He looked at you with a gaze so raw it felt like he was peering right through your skin. "I’ve never loved anyone like this. I’ve never loved anyone like you. You’re the one for me."

The shift in the room was instantaneous. The laughter died in your throat, replaced by a sudden, sharp lump. The weight of his confession, delivered in the middle of such a messy, heated moment, caught you completely off guard. You felt the familiar sting behind your eyelids, your vision blurring as your eyes grew glassy.

A sarcastic, shaky laugh escaped you as you tried to blink back the moisture. "Really, Jisung? Right now?" you whispered, your voice wobbling. "Are you seriously trying to make me cry in the middle of this?"

A slow, wicked grin spread across Han’s face—the classic, mischievous smirk that told you exactly what was going on in his head. He didn't look sorry at all. Instead, he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours, his eyes flashing with a renewed, playful fire.

"Actually," he murmured, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs with a sudden, firm strength. In one fluid motion, he hoisted you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist to stay balanced. "I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want you crying."

He nipped at your lower lip, his voice a low, promising growl against your mouth as he started walking toward the bedroom, your chest still pressed against his chest. "I’m gonna make you scream instead."

You let out a startled, genuine laugh, the tears forgotten as the heat rushed back into your veins, more intense than before.

Felix

The living room was bathed in the soft, flickering blue light of the television, the only sound being the iconic orchestral swell of the Pretty Woman soundtrack. You were curled up against Felix on the couch, tucked securely under a plush oversized blanket. On the screen, Richard Gere was currently braving his fear of heights, bouquet in hand, as he climbed the fire escape to reach Julia Roberts.

Felix was unusually quiet, his eyes fixed on the screen, though he wasn't really watching the actors anymore. You could feel the steady hum of his heart against your shoulder. Just as the credits began to roll, he shifted, his arm tightening around your waist.

"I’d climb Mount Everest for you," he said.

His voice was that signature deep, honeyed rasp that always seemed to vibrate through the furniture, but there was a specific, quiet weight to it tonight. You let out a soft laugh, turning your head against his shoulder to look up at him. His freckles were barely visible in the dim light, but his eyes were shining.

"Mount Everest, huh?" you asked playfully, poking his chest. "You hate being cold, Lix. Are you serious?"

Felix didn't laugh back. Instead, a bright, beautiful smile spread across his face—the kind that seemed to radiate its own warmth. He turned his body toward you, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear with lingering fingers.

"I'm completely serious," he nodded, his expression softening into something incredibly tender. "Cold or not, I’d do it. I’d do anything for you. I’d go anywhere as long as you were at the end of the trip."

You felt a flush creep up your neck, your grin widening even as your heart did a slow somersault. "What has gotten into you all of a sudden?" you teased, though your voice was losing its edge, becoming just as soft as his. "Since when are you such a hopeless romantic?"

Felix shrugged his shoulders, a bit of his boyish charm peeking through, though he didn't look away. "I don't know. The movie just... it inspired me, I guess," he admitted, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "But it's not just the movie. I think about it a lot. How lucky I am."

The sheer, unprompted sweetness of his words hit you all at once. It wasn't just a line; it was Felix—pure, golden-hearted Felix, who loved with everything he had. You felt a sudden surge of affection so strong it made your chest ache. You reached out, grabbing his hand and interlacing your fingers with his, clutching it tightly against your heart.

"You are so sweet," you whispered, the words feeling far too small for what you were actually feeling. "You're going to make me emotional if you keep talking like that."

You shifted, crawling closer until you were fully draped over him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He smelled like home—a mix of his favorite citrus cologne and the scent of laundry detergent. You squeezed his hand one more time, grounding yourself in his presence.

"I’d do anything for you, too, you know," you murmured against his skin. "I might not climb Everest, but I’d definitely follow you wherever you go."

Felix let out a soft, contented sigh, resting his chin on top of your head. He didn't need to say anything else; the way he held you, solid and sure, said everything.

Seungmin

The apartment was quiet, the only light coming from a stray lamp in the corner that cast Seungmin’s sharp profile in a soft, amber glow. You were draped across his lap, your fingers tangled in the soft hair at the nape of his neck as you kissed him with a desperate, mounting passion. Usually, Seungmin was the composed one, the one with the dry wit and the steady pulse, but tonight, his breath was hitching against your lips, his hands moving over your curves with an uncharacteristic urgency.

As his palms slid from your waist to the small of your back, he began to murmur against your skin. Between shallow breaths, he started to list the things he loved about you—the softness of your skin, the way your waist felt in his hands, the curve of your hip. They were quiet, clinical observations delivered with a heat that made your head spin.

However, as his hands wandered, you felt that familiar, nagging spark of insecurity flare up in your chest. You stiffened slightly, your movements becoming tentative. You had always been your own harshest critic, and hearing him praise the very parts of yourself you tried to hide felt almost impossible to process.

"Seungmin," you breathed, pulling back just an inch, your voice tinged with doubt. "You don't have to say that. I know I’m not... I know I’m not perfect."

Seungmin stopped. He didn't pull away; instead, he shifted his weight so he could look you directly in the eye. He raised a single, skeptical eyebrow—the look he usually reserved for when the other members were being particularly ridiculous. But his eyes weren't teasing; they were dark and focused.

"Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice steady and calm.

Without waiting for an answer, he began to move his hands again, but this time with a slow, deliberate intent. He traced the line of your collarbone with his thumb. "I love the way you look right here," he murmured. His hand moved down to your waist, his fingers splaying out. "And I love the way you feel here. I love every single inch of you, and I’m not saying it to be nice. I’m saying it because I’m a man of facts, and the fact is that you’re incredible."

He leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. He lingered there, his breath hot and steady. "You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen," he whispered, the vibration of his voice sending a shiver through your entire frame. "And I love you so much it actually frustrates me sometimes."

The sheer, stubborn honesty of his words broke through your defenses. It wasn't just a compliment; it was Seungmin laying out his truth with the same precision he applied to everything else in his life. You felt a sudden, sharp shudder ripple through your body, and as he leaned back to gauge your reaction, he found you looking at him through a thick veil of tears.

His expression softened instantly, his brow furrowing in genuine concern. He reached up, his cool fingers framing your face. "Hey," he whispered, his voice cracking just a little. "Did I say something wrong? Did I push too hard?"

You shook your head quickly, a watery, helpless laugh escaping you. You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss that was softer, slower, and filled with a profound sense of relief. When you pulled back, you let your forehead rest against his, your eyes still shimmering but bright with a new light.

"No," you whispered, your thumb tracing the line of his cheekbone. "You didn't say anything wrong. You’re just... you’re the beautiful one, Seungmin. Thank you for seeing me."

He let out a long, relieved breath, a small, triumphant smile tugging at his lips as he pulled you back into his chest, holding you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Jeongin

The bedroom was dim, lit only by the soft glow of a streetlamp filtering through the sheer curtains, but the heat between you and Jeongin was palpable. There was a playful spark in the air as you gave him a firm nudge, pushing him back onto the mattress. He landed with a soft thud, his dark hair fanning out against the white pillows, his eyes wide and tracking your every move.

When you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, tossing it somewhere toward the floor, you caught the exact moment the blood rushed to his cheeks. Even now, after all the time you had spent together, that deep, rosy flush crept up his neck and colored his ears.

A mischievous grin tugged at your lips. You climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips as you leaned down into his space. "Jeongin-ah," you teased, your voice a low, honeyed vibration. "Don’t tell me I still make you nervous?"

Jeongin let out a breathless, airy chuckle, his dimples flashing briefly before he reached up to anchor you. His large hands found your waist, his grip firm and steadying. "Always," he admitted, his voice a bit grainier than usual. He didn't look away; instead, he pulled you slightly closer and leaned up to press a lingering, fervent kiss to the soft skin of your stomach.

The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, but it was his words that followed that truly caught you off guard. "You’re just so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot. "Sometimes I look at you and I really feel like I don’t deserve you. I don't know how I got so lucky."

The teasing light in your eyes faded, replaced by a sudden, sharp ache of affection. You reached down, framing his face with your hands, forcing him to look up at you. His expression was incredibly raw—gone was the "Desert Fox" mischief, replaced by the sincere, soul-baring honesty of a man completely in love.

"Why would you say something like that?" you asked, your voice softening. "You deserve everything, Jeongin. Especially me."

He chuckled again, a sweet, self-deprecating sound, and leaned his face into the palm of your hand. "It’s just the truth to me," he whispered. "I see you, and I see everything I ever wanted. It’s overwhelming sometimes."

You sat there for a long moment, simply breathing in his presence. The weight of his words settled deep in your chest, making your heart feel heavy and light all at once. You felt the familiar, warm sting of tears pricking at the corners of your eyes—not out of sadness, but out of the sheer, overwhelming realization of how deeply you were cherished.

You didn't say anything more; you didn't need to. You leaned down, capturing his lips in a deep, soul-searing kiss that carried all the things you couldn't put into words. Your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, your fingers trembling slightly with a mix of desire and emotion as you worked them free and slid the fabric off his broad shoulders.

The shift in the atmosphere was instantaneous. Sensing the change in your energy, Jeongin’s grip on your waist tightened. With a sudden, lithe movement, he hooked his leg around yours and shifted his weight. In one fluid motion, he flipped you both over, pinning you gently into the soft expanse of the mattress.