#seugmin

Idol!𝑺𝒆𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝒙 Idol!𝒇! 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 (𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰)

Summary: Forced to keep your relationship hidden under strict industry rules, Seungmin’s jealousy reaches a breaking point that leads you getting fucked in the bathroom. (10,4k)

Warnings: unstabilised relationships, dirty talking, dom!seungmin, jealousy, possessive behaviour, f1ngering, oral s3x (f! receiver), wall fuck1ng, public area, unprotective s3x (DONT DO IT), marking/love bites, hard thrust1ng.

The bass from the live stage vibrated through the stadium floor, a constant hum under the screaming fans and booming MC introductions. You’re sat in the third row of the idol section, legs crossed, back straight, a practiced smile fixed on your face. The dress was a calculated risk: deep emerald, fabric clinging to every curve like it had been poured over your body, a slit up the thigh that showed a calculated amount of skin. You felt eyes on you from every direction. Cameras. Fans. Other idols.

Especially other idols.

Three rows back and to your left, Seungmin was losing his fucking mind.

He watched a rookie from a boy group two rows ahead turn around for the fifth time, pretending to scan the crowd but letting his gaze drag down your back like he had any right to look. Then a senior artist leaned over to whisper something to his groupmate, and his eyes flicked to your legs. Seungmin’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. His hands were pressed flat against his thighs, knuckles white. You weren’t his in public. That was the rule. The contract. The career-ending, scandal-manufacturing, Dispatch-wet-dream rule. But you are his, and every stolen glance from these assholes felt like a challenge.

He pulled out his phone, angled it away from the nearest camera, and typed fast.

Seungmin:

| Backstage. Main hall restroom. Now.

The backstage corridor was chaos: stylists running with garment bags, staff shouting into headsets, junior artists huddled in nervous circles. You navigated it with your head down, heels clicking on the polished concrete, until you reached the door at the far end of the hall. You pushed it open and stepped inside.

The lock clicked behind you before you even registered Seungmin’s presence. Then his hands were on you, spinning you around and shoving your back against the cold tile wall. The impact knocked a gasp from your lungs.

“Do you have any idea,” he said, voice low and rough, “what it was like sitting there watching every fucking guy in that stadium undress you with their eyes?”

Your lips parted, but he didn’t give you a chance to answer. His mouth crashed into yours, hard and demanding, tongue pushing past your teeth. One hand fisted in your hair, tilting the head back, while the other gripped your hip with bruising force. He bit your lower lip, pulled back just enough to look at your face and said, “This dress. This fucking dress. You wore it for me, didn’t you?”

“Maybe,” you breathed, and the smirk that flickered across your face was a dangerous thing.

Seungmin’s eyes darkened. “Wrong answer.”

He dropped to his knees.

His hands shoved the slit of your dress higher, exposing the lacy black thong underneath. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and yanked it down your thighs, not bothering to be gentle. The fabric caught on the heels, and he left it there, tangled around one ankle. Then his mouth was on you, tongue sliding through the folds, and your head cracked back against the tile. A moan tore out your throat, too loud for a public restroom, and Seungmin’s hand clamped over your mouth.

“Quiet,” he muttered against the clit, the vibration of his voice making your hips jerk. “You want someone to hear? Want them to know you’re getting fucked backstage while they’re out there staring at you?”

You shook your head, eyes squeezed shut, fingers threading into his hair and pulling. He ate you out like he was starving, tongue flicking and pressing and circling until your thighs were trembling against his shoulders. He shoved two fingers inside you without warning, curling them forward, and you bit down on your own hand to keep from screaming. The wet, obscene sound of his fingers pumping into you filled the small room.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he said, pulling his mouth away and looking up at you. His lips glistened. “Is this from them looking at you, or from me?”

“You,” you gasped. “Fuck, Seungmin, only you.”

“That’s right.”

He stood up, unzipping his trousers with one hand while the other wrapped around your throat. Not squeezing, just holding. A reminder. His dick sprang free, hard and flushed, and he lifted you easily, one arm hooked under the knee, pinning you against the wall. The head of his cock pressed against the entrance, and he paused there, making you feel it, making you wait.

“Look at me.”

You opened your eyes. His face was inches from yours, jaw tight, pupils blown wide with a jealousy that hadn’t cooled at all.

“You’re mine,” he said. “Not theirs. Say it.”

“I’m yours.”

He thrust into you in one brutal stroke, and your vision went white at the edges. The stretch, the fullness, the way he filled you completely, it stole the air from your lungs. Seungmin didn’t give you time to adjust. He fucked into you with hard, punishing rhythm, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to make you lightheaded. The tile was cold against your back, his body hot against your front, and every snap of his hips drove a broken moan from your throat.

“You like this,” he grunted, mouth moving to the neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. Love bites bloomed purple and red against your skin, right over your collarbone where the deep green emerald fabric dipped low. “You like making me lose my mind.”

“Yes,” you choked out, heels scraping against the slick tile as you tried to wrap both legs tighter around his waist. He adjusted his hold, hoisting you slightly higher to angle himself deeper, hitting that exact sensitive spot inside you that had her toes curling into the cold floor.

The sound of your bodies colliding rang loudly in the tight space, mixed with the muted, heavy thud of the stadium bass filtering through the thick concrete walls. Somewhere out there, tens of thousands of fans were screaming, oblivious to the fact that Stray Kids’ Seungmin had one hand wrapped around an idol's throat, pounding into her with a raw, feral possessiveness that defied every single rule of their industry.

“Look at the door,” Seungmin commanded, his voice dark, ragged, and breathless against your ear.

You forced your eyes open, gazing blurrily at the metallic lock on the single door standing between them and a career-ending scandal.

“Imagine if someone comes down this hall,” he whispered, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point while his hips never slowed, driving into you with relentless, deep strokes. “Imagine if your manager comes looking for you. They’re going to hear you whining like this. They’re going to know who took this dress off you.”

The thrill of it, the sheer danger mixed with his unyielding jealousy; sent a fresh shockwave of warmth straight to your core. Your walls clenched hard around him, drawing a low, guttural groan from deep in his chest.

“Fuck love...” His pace broke into frantic, shallow thrusts, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His breath was hot, smelling faintly of mint and the exhaustion of the night, but his grip on your thigh was absolute iron. “Don't you dare come yet. Look at me.”

You locked eyes with him, completely wrecked, panting wildly as he built the friction to an unbearable heat. His free hand reached down, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing in fast, cruel circles over your slick folds.

That was the tipping point.

You bit hard into your own shoulder to muffle the shriek that tore through your chest as your orgasm hit like a freight train. Your body spasmed violently around him, milky ripples of heat washing over you, clamping tight onto his cock. Seungmin growled, throwing his head back as your contraction triggered his own release. He buried himself as deep as he could go, pulsing hot inside you, his whole body tense and trembling against yours as he held you pinned to the wall.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the harsh, ragged sound of heavy breathing and the distant rumble of the show outside.

Slowly, the reality of the situation rushed back into the room.

Seungmin slid out of you with a wet, quiet gasp, catching you carefully as your feet touched the cold ground. Your knees instantly buckled, but he caught you around the waist, pulling you flush against his chest so you wouldn't fall. The emerald dress was rumpled, the slit pushed up past your hip, and your hair was a messy halo around your face.

He looked down at the dark, blooming hickey on your collarbone, a violent contrast against the green silk; and a dark, satisfied glint returned to his eyes.

“You’re going to have a fun time covering that up before your next segment,” he murmured, though his touch was suddenly softer, his thumb gently wiping a stray tear of pleasure from the corner of your eye.

“You’re terrible,” you whispered, voice completely shot, resting your forehead against his chest as your breath slowly evened out.

“I’m possessive,” he corrected smoothly, pulling your thong up your legs with surprising care now that the storm had passed, fixing the dress, and smoothing down your hair with practiced, gentle fingers. He pulled a pack of wet wipes from his back pocket, cleaning you up before fixing his own trousers, zipping up, and adjusting his jacket until he looked once again like the polished, pristine idol the world knew.

He stepped back, surveying you. Despite the flushed cheeks and swollen lips, you looked breathtaking. Marked, taken, and entirely his.

Seungmin leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, a stark contrast to the violence of moments before.

“Go back out there,” he whispered, a faint, dangerous smirk playing on his lips as he reached for the lock. “Let them look all they want. But remember who you’re going home with tonight.”

He slipped out the door first, blending seamlessly into the chaotic backstage crowd without a single person suspecting a thing. You took a deep breath, checked yourself in the mirror, pulled a few strands of hair over the fresh mark on your neck, and followed him back out into the light.

Bangchan,Lee-know,Changbin,Hyunjin,Han,Lee-Felix,Kim Seugmin,Yang Jeongin

Genre:Fluff,crack?,established relationship

Warnings:none!

A/N: I almost re-did this one THREE TIMES?! The two first I don’t like them but the last too second I do like them anyways my bias part so it needs to be perfect. Also it’s almost the end of this series so I have no idea of what to do after this series😭

hyunjin x female reader

|part 1 | part 2|

sypnosis: high school means big house parties. what will happen when you get invited to one and the most fuckboy (or so you thought) tries to make you fall under his spell?

warnings: mdni, cursing, alcohol consumption, dry humping, oral, d in v

“ITS COLD” “what”

summary:A random text from an unknown number turns into weeks of late-night talks, dumb jokes, and way-too-honest confessions. What starts as a mistake slowly becomes routine — until meeting up in real life makes it obvious this was never “just” a wrong number.

changbin x reader

・❥・✎ intro → masterlist → taglist ✎ ・❥・

a/n:HIII i’m so sorry for not posting for a few days i’ve been busy with exam stuff 😔 PLZ request something for me to write and also comment if u wanna be the first people on my taglist!

[Day 1]

Unknown:

Hyung, I’m outside. You better hurry before I freeze.

You:

Wrong number.

I don’t think I left you waiting anywhere.

Unknown:

…oh crap. My bad. Sorry.

You were about to put your phone down, when another buzz came.

Unknown:

Okay but in my defense… you replied. Which means you’re not too mad, right?

You:

Or I’m just polite.

Unknown:

Polite stranger. Nice.

That’s better than my actual friends.

You chuckled to yourself, already shaking your head at his audacity.

⸻

[Day 2]

Changbin:

So, stranger…

what’s your name?

You:

…you first.

Changbin:

Fair.

I’m Changbin. Not a creep.

Just someone with poor texting aim.

You:

Convincing introduction. I’m y/n

Changbin:

y/n…

okay, nice to meet you, accidental friend.

You:

I didn’t agree to friendship yet.

Changbin:

Too late.

You replied twice. That’s a binding contract.

You laughed out loud. Why was this actually fun?

⸻

[Day 3]

It was close to midnight when he messaged again.

Changbin:

You ever stay up even though you know you’ll regret it?

You:

Every single night.

Changbin:

Same. It’s like my brain refuses to shut up.

You:

What’s on your mind?

Changbin:

…honestly? That I’m texting a stranger at midnight like it’s normal

You:

you started it

Don’t blame me.

Changbin:

Okay, but you’re still here. So maybe you’re just as weird as me.

You:

Maybe

There was a pause. Then he sent a voice note—low and teasing.

“Just so you know, you’re not imagining me. I’m real.”

You replayed it twice before replying.

You:

…you sound more normal than I expected.

Changbin:

I’ll take that as a compliment.

⸻

[Day 5]

Your phone buzzed before your alarm.

Changbin:

Morning. Do you hit snooze a lot?

You:

…why are you like this at 7 AM?

Changbin:

Gotta make sure you don’t oversleep.

It’s my civic duty as your wrong-number buddy.

You:

I didn’t ask for a wake-up service.

Changbin:

“Too bad. It’s non-refundable.”

You:

Refund what? I didn’t pay for this.

Changbin:

Your attention. Priceless.

You groaned, but you were grinning into your pillow.

⸻

[Day 8]

Changbin:

Tell me something random about you

You:

Like what?

Changbin:

Anything.

Like… I bite straws without realizing it. That’s my random fact.

You:

…I read the last page of books first. Just to know how it ends.

Changbin:

WHAT. That’s chaos. That’s villain behavior.

You:

don’t judge me.

At least I don’t destroy straws.

Changbin:

…okay, fair. We’re both villains then.

Later, he added:

Changbin:

“Not gonna lie, talking to you is starting to feel less like a wrong number and more like…

I don’t know.

Something I needed.

You stared at the message longer than usual before replying.

You:

“Careful. That sounds like encouragement.

Changbin:

…good.

Because I want to keep talking to you.

⸻

[Day 10]

Changbin:

You ever wonder what someone’s voice sounds like before you hear it?

You:

…are you fishing for a compliment?

Changbin:

No, I’m saying you should call me. Just once. Curiosity sake.

You:

What if you sound disappointing?

Changbin:

Impossible. I sound like a Disney villain but hotter.

You laughed, covering your mouth even though no one was around.

You:

Fine.

One minute

You hit accept. His voice filled the line—deeper than expected, playful, warm.

“See? Not disappointing, right?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, smiling into the darkness of your room. “We’ll see.”

That “one minute” turned into an hour.

⸻

[Day 16]

Changbin:

You ever suddenly remember something embarrassing you did years ago and want to vanish?

You:

Literally all the time. What triggered you tonight?

Changbin:

…I once rapped at my middle school talent show. Forgot half the words and improvised something about cafeteria pizza. My mom recorded it.

You:

Please tell me you still have the video.

Changbin:

No way. It’s buried. Destroyed. Don’t ask.

You:

That means yes.

Changbin:

…maybe. But you’ll have to earn it.

You:

Oh? So you plan on sticking around long enough for me to earn it?

Changbin:

Yeah. I do.

⸻

[Day 18]

Changbin:

Be honest.

Are you the kind of person who leaves 27 tabs open on their browser?

You:

62, actually.

Changbin:

62?! What’s wrong with you??

You:

organization is for cowards.

Chaos makes life interesting

Changbin:

…I can’t believe I’m texting a criminal.

You:

And yet, you haven’t blocked me.

Changbin:

Because you’re entertaining. And… kind of addictive to talk to.

Your fingers hovered before you typed back:

You:

…addictive?

Changbin:

Yeah. Like if you stop replying, my day feels… emptier.

You swallowed hard, staring at the screen.

⸻

[Day 20]

Changbin:

Wake up. Don’t make me call and sing to you.

You:

…I’m awake.

Barely.

Changbin:

Lies. You sound half-dead.

You:

How do you know what I sound like right now?

Changbin:

Because I already know your patterns. You text slower when you’re still in bed.

You blinked, realizing he wasn’t wrong.

You:

Stalker

Changbin:

not stalker.

Observant.

You:

Sounds like the same thing.

Changbin:

fine. Observant stalker.

But only for you.

⸻

[Day 23]

It was past 1 a.m. when your phone buzzed.

Changbin:

You awake?

You:

Yeah. Can’t sleep.

Changbin:

same.

Mind if I…

vent a little?

You:

Go ahead

What followed was longer than any of his usual texts. He told you about pressure. Expectations. The fear of not being enough, even when he was working harder than anyone around him. He admitted he didn’t usually tell people these things—didn’t want to sound weak.

You read every word twice before replying.

You:

You don’t sound weak. You sound human. And for what it’s worth… you don’t have to carry it alone. Even if I’m just a stranger behind a screen, I’ll listen.

There was a long pause before his reply came.

Changbin:

…you’re not ‘just a stranger’ anymore.

⸻

[Day 26]

Changbin:

Okay, question.

If you had to describe yourself in three emojis, what would they be?

You:

🫠📚☕

Changbin:

…melting book coffee.

Makes sense.

You:

Your turn

Changbin:

💪🎶😏

You:

Muscles, music, and cockiness.

Checks out.

Changbin:

Cockiness?? No, that’s confidence.

You:

Sure

Changbin:

…you’re lucky I like your sarcasm.

You:

And you’re lucky I tolerate your ego

Changbin:

So we’re… lucky together, then?

⸻

[Day 30]

Changbin:

Not gonna lie… I think about meeting you more than I probably should.

You:

…what do you imagine?

Changbin:

You’ll laugh, but—just us sitting somewhere, talking like we already do. Except I get to see your face when you’re sarcastic. And maybe hear you laugh for real instead of just picturing it.

You stared at the message, heart thudding.

You:

…what if we don’t click in person?

Changbin:

Then we go back to texting. No pressure. But… I think we will. I feel like I already know you.

Silence stretched before you finally answered:

You:

…okay. Let’s meet.

Changbin:

Seriously?

You:

Yeah

Seriously.

Changbin:

…don’t blame me if I can’t stop smiling when I see you.

⸻

It had been almost a month of nonstop texting. Morning check-ins. Midnight confessions. Ridiculous debates about straws, browser tabs, and villain behavior.

And now, somehow, you were standing outside the café you’d both picked for your first meeting.

Your hands were clammy. Your brain kept whispering what if it’s awkward? What if it doesn’t feel the same?

Then a voice broke through your thoughts.

“y/n?”

You turned.

Changbin was there. Real. Not just a name lighting up your phone, not just a deep laugh in your ear at midnight. A little shorter than you’d imagined, broad-shouldered under a black hoodie, cap pulled low. But the grin—wide, slightly nervous—was exactly him.

“Hi,” you said, softer than you expected.

“Hi,” he echoed, shifting his weight before adding with a chuckle, “So… you’re the one who’s been terrorizing me with 62 browser tabs.”

That broke the tension instantly. You laughed, covering your face. “You remembered that?”

“Of course,” he said. “It’s one of your crimes. I keep a list.”

Inside the café, the air smelled of roasted beans and vanilla. You found a table in the corner, both of you pretending not to be overly aware of how surreal this felt.

“So…” you started, stirring your drink. “Am I what you imagined?”

He tilted his head, eyes flicking over your face, warm and direct. “You’re better. Which is kind of annoying.”

You snorted. “Why annoying?”

“Because now I have to try harder to impress you,” he said without missing a beat.

The boldness startled you—but it was softened by the way he fiddled with his sleeve right after, like he wasn’t sure if he’d gone too far.

You leaned your chin on your hand. “You don’t need to try. You already did.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it felt like that pause between texts when you both knew what you wanted to say but weren’t sure if you should.

Finally, he leaned back, exhaling. “This is so weird. Not in a bad way. Just… I spent weeks imagining this exact moment, and now it’s real. And it’s better.”

You smiled. “I was nervous too. Thought maybe we’d lose what we had over text.”

“Are you kidding?” His laugh was low, genuine. “This feels the same. Just… now I get to hear you laugh for real. And see your face when you’re sarcastic.”

You laughed again, shaking your head. “You sound way too sentimental for someone who calls themselves cocky.”

He grinned, leaning forward. “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

Time slipped away. You talked the way you always did—bantering, teasing, slipping into deeper things without meaning to. Only now, there were glances that lingered a beat too long, smiles that curved softer at the edges.

When you finally stepped outside, the evening had deepened into cool twilight. You walked side by side, close enough for your sleeves to brush.

At the corner, where you’d have to part, Changbin hesitated. “Hey… can I admit something?”

You turned to him. “Sure.”

“I almost didn’t send that first text,” he said. “Thought you’d ignore me. Or block me. But now… I can’t imagine not knowing you.”

Your chest tightened. “Good thing you hit send then.”

His grin returned, shy but radiant. “Yeah. Best wrong number I ever dialed.”

For a moment, you thought he might hug you—but instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “Text me when you get home?”

You smiled, stepping back toward your bus stop. “You’d text me first anyway.”

“True,” he admitted, and the sound of his laugh followed you down the street.

⸻

That night, your phone buzzed.

Changbin:

Made it home.

You:

told you you’d text first.

Changbin:

Yeah, but you didn’t see me grinning like an idiot on the way back.

You:

…same.

Changbin:

So… round two sometime?

⸻

[Day 33]

Changbin:

What’s your opinion on walks at night? Dangerous or magical?

You:

Both. Depends on the company.

Changbin:

…what if the company is a charming stranger who raps about cafeteria pizza?

You:

Then magical. Barely.

Changbin:

Cool. Because I’m picking you up tomorrow.

⸻

It was cold but not unbearable. The streets glowed with soft orange lamps as you and Changbin strolled side by side, hands stuffed in pockets.

He kicked a pebble along the pavement, glancing at you. “You know, I used to do this with friends all the time. Just… wander. No plan. Feels nice.”

You smiled. “Feels familiar. Comfortable.”

He nodded, lips quirking. “Yeah. That’s the word. Comfortable.”

At one point, you passed a small bakery, its windows fogged up. Changbin stopped to peek in. “Next time, we’re getting pastries here. No argument.”

You laughed. “Who says there’ll be a next time?”

He shot you a look, playful but soft. “I do.”

⸻

[Day 36]

Changbin:

I think my dog misses you.

You:

Your dog has never met me.

Changbin:

Exactly. He told me he feels left out.

You:

…you’re insane.

Changbin:

But admit it—you kinda want to meet him now.

You:

…maybe.

Changbin:

Perfect. He approves of you already.

⸻

A few days later, he suggested the park you’d once mentioned.

When you arrived, Changbin was already there, sitting on a bench with a bag of snacks. He waved you over, grinning

“You came prepared,” you said, sitting beside him.

“I did my research,” he replied. “You’re a snacker. I can’t show up empty-handed.”

The conversation started silly—debating which snack was superior—but somewhere between laughter and quiet pauses, it shifted.

“Sometimes,” he said suddenly, eyes on the trees, “I wonder if I would’ve met you anyway. Like… if the wrong number hadn’t happened, would the universe have found another way?”

You turned, caught off guard by the softness in his voice.

“That’s oddly deep for someone eating chips,” you teased gently.

He laughed, then grew serious again. “I’m glad it happened. Whatever it was. Because now I get to sit here with you.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just smiled, and that seemed enough for him.

⸻

[Day 40]

Changbin:

Confession: I wrote something about you today.

You:

…like what?

Changbin:

Lyrics. Don’t freak out. Just—sometimes you inspire stuff.

You:

…now I’m curious.

Changbin:

Curiosity granted. Next meetup, I’ll show you.

⸻

When he invited you to his music space, you weren’t sure what to expect. The room was cluttered, full of cables, notebooks, and half-empty coffee cups.

“Don’t judge,” he said sheepishly. “Creative chaos.”

He played you a track—heavy beats layered under words that were sharp but also strangely vulnerable. Some of the lines were about feeling lost, about finding someone who steadied him.

When the song ended, silence filled the room.

“That’s… beautiful,” you said softly. “And you’re telling me I inspired that?”

He shrugged, but his ears were pink. “Yeah. You did.”

For once, Changbin didn’t hide behind jokes or cockiness. His voice was low, certain:

“I like you. More than just a wrong number. More than just texting.”

Your chest ached, in the best way. “Good. Because I like you too.”

His grin split wide, disbelief and joy mixed in one. “Guess it wasn’t such a wrong number after all.”