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Chan is inbetween your spread legs, one hand gripping your hip, the other guiding himself into you with a low groan. “Fuck,” he mutters, sliding in deep, and you gasp, head tipping back against Hyunjin’s chest.

Chan’s fingers tighten on your hip, pulling you down onto him, and you choke out a moan as he starts moving, slow at first, then deeper, rougher. “You take it so well,” Hyunjin murmurs in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. His thumbs circle your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks before pinching just hard enough to make you whimper.

Hyunjin’s hand drifts lower, fingertips tracing circles over your stomach before dipping between your legs. His touch is light, teasing, just barely brushing your clit until you jerk against him with a sharp gasp. “Oh my- Fuckk” you whine, hips bucking involuntarily, but Chan’s grip tightens on your waist, holding you steady as he thrusts deeper, dragging a ragged moan from your throat.

Chan’s hands slide up your body, fingers tracing the curve of your throat before settling there, pressing justtt hard enough to make your breath hitch. His grip tightens as he fucks into you harder, his hips snapping forward in a rhythm that has your vision blurring.

Hyunjin’s fingers circle your clit faster, the pressure building until you’re writhing between them, gasping for air that won’t come.

“Please-” you manage, voice ragged, but Chan just shakes his head, “You can take it,” he murmurs, his own breath uneven. “Just a little longer.” His thrusts stutter, deeper now, and you choke on a moan, nails digging into Hyunjin’s thigh.

Hyunjin exhales sharply against your ear, “So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, voice full of admiration. His palm slides up your chest, tracing the curve of your breast before cradling your jaw, tilting your face toward his. “so perfect,” he breathes, and then his mouth is on yours, tongue sliding against yours in a slow, filthy drag. You moan into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his lips, as Chan’s hips snap forward, filling you so deep your toes curl.

Hyunjin breaks the kiss just enough to pant against your lips, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Love hearing you,” he says, “Love feeling you shake.” His hand drops back to your breast, squeezing just shy of too hard, and you arch into it with a gasp, your hips rocking back against Chan’s thrusts.

“I can’t- I can’t take it,” you gasp, voice cracking, your body strung tight between them. “Please, please let me-”

Chan’s grip on your throat eases just enough for you to drag in a shuddering breath. His hips slow, grinding deep inside you instead of pulling out, his cock twitching where he’s buried to the hilt. “You wanna cum?” he murmurs. His other hand slides down your body, fingertips tracing the sweat-slick curve of your waist before settling between your legs, pressing hard against Hyunjin’s fingers still circling your clit. “You wanna come on my cock while he plays with you?”

You whimper, your whole body trembling, the words catching in your throat. “Yes or no, baby,” Chan asks, his hips rocking forward, the drag of his cock inside you slow, maddening. His breath hitches when you clench around him, your thighs shaking. “you're gonna have to say it.”

You sob, your hips bucking uselessly between them, oversensitive,“Yes- yes, please,” you gasp, the words slurred, your voice breaking. “Please let me cum, please-”

Chan’s grip tightens on your throat just enough to cut off your next whimper, his hips snapping forward in one sharp, brutal thrust. “Then cum, baby” he says, and that’s all it takes- your body seizes, pleasure ripping through you so hard your vision whites out.

his rhythm stutters, his hips grinding deep as he groans, his cock pulsing inside you. You feel him cum, the hot spill of it, the way his fingers dig into your hip hard enough to bruise.

Hyunjin’s hand leaves your breast, sliding down to press against your stomach, right where Chan’s cock is buried inside you, and you sob at the pressure, oversensitive, “Fuck,” Chan breathes, his voice thick, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he rides out his orgasm, his thrusts slowing to lazy, rolling grinds.

Hyunjin’s fingers curl into your hair, tilting your head back against his chest as he murmurs, “Good girl,” against your temple, his lips brushing your skin. His other hand still works your clit, slow now, drawing out the last waves of your orgasm until you’re squirming.

Before you can catch your breath, Chan’s hands are on your hips again, flipping you over with a rough, effortless tug. The sheets scrape against your stomach as he maneuvers you onto your knees.

Your face lands inches from Hyunjin’s cock, the heat of it against your cheek. You don’t hesitate- your mouth opens, tongue dragging along the underside before taking him in. Hyunjin groans, his fingers tangling in your hair, guiding you deeper. Chan’s cock slides back into you from behind, just as a new song plays.

a/n: gov ball hyunchan made me do it now you guys deal with the aftermath #thankyouforcumming

Being amused by the concept, and also excited, you reminded Felix that you usually walk so he has to slow down a lot and you'll try to catch up. He synced both your phones and started playing Chariots of Fire when you got to the lake. He took the baton and took off at his usual pace after stretching, while you continued walking. He had his music in his ears while you played yours on speakerphone at a not so loud volume , you could hear it. Ten minutes later, you started to look back as you expected to see Felix. The moment you saw him, you turned around and put your right hand back, keeping your fingers splayed open, four fingers together and thumb away from all the rest, so that passing the baton wouldn't be a failure. All the while, the song was playing and it felt like a great soundtrack for the moment. 

A few seconds later, you could hear Felix's steps slightly behind you and you felt the baton in the palm of your hand. He didn't let go that quickly until your fingers were wrapped around the baton, you smiled at each other before he took off again. 

This is what brings you to this moment where you are huffing and puffing, trying to keep up with a very slowed down Felix, and he's almost walking at this point and you both start laughing. 

"Old Hen, I can go slower if you want." 

"Spring Chicken!" you attempt to shout at him, running out of breath. You want to hit him over the head with the baton because at this point, the two of you might as well be Tom and Jerry. The entire time the music still plays and you manage to hand it over. That short burst of activity reminds you that you are not wearing a sports bra and you should consider that next time just in case Felix wants to run like this again. 

It hasn't been years since you ran a little, I mean, sometimes you have to chase a bus or race across the road to finish crossing before the lights turn red, but you usually just walk around the lake, It's how your met Felix last December, and how you now sometimes have Saturday morning dates so you can both exercise together. 

It doesn't take long until you both get into the rythm and the handover starts to be more playful and even more fun than the first time. During one handover, you start to skip as you hold your hand out waiting for Felix but because your movement is a different style than his running, not just merely a different pace, Felix has a hard time since your hand is bobbing up and down with your movement. So he changes his movement and starts skipping, and suddenly the two of you are giggling a lot. You can't believe you got Felix to skip. 

By the time you are done, you realize you are fourty five minutes longer than usual and you are feeling the physical strain of having done a more challenging routine. 

Saturday 24th May, 2025 - 11:00 am

You are both seated at Old Country Buffet, having your brunch and your heart rate is finally down to normal. The two of you steal food from each other's plate and giggle about it like the fools you are. The same energy from he lake has carried over to the restaurant. 

"I felt lilke I just partipated in the Olympics." 

"Spring Chicken, that means we got participation trophies." 

You spend the entire time eating and giggling, at the end of which you tell Felix that you will need a nap when you both get back to your apartment. 

Saturday 24th May, 2025 - I:30 pm

You made Felix hit the shower ahead of you as you prefer to be the one cleaning after you are done. The two of you are now lying under one window sill where there's a slightly cool breeze coming in and washing over you. Felix doesn't seem to mind lying down on the floor next to you. You set a sheet down instead of the usual kikoi and have a pillow to share. You have another flat sheet to cover yourselves so the breeze isn't too much, and Felix is huddled close to you, and is now tracing his forefinger on your nose. 

"You have an beautiful nose, Old Hen."

"Thank you. My classmates used to call me 'Arab nose' when I was younger and much skinnier."

"What?"

"And my mom from the last country said I have a 'Bentley nose'."

"What does that even mean?"

"Combination nose."

"I like it."

"Thank you Spring Chicken, so do I."

You can feel the tiredness working its way in your bones, how the rest is helping release it though you haven't fallen asleep yet. Any time you are next to a wall, your default setting is to lift your knee up and rest it on the wall, with your ankle next to your other knee that's lying down flat. Felix moves closer and starts caressing your thigh under the sheet, his fingers lighting touching the front of your thigh, moving back and forth very slowly. He has access to your entire leg because you wore hot pants and a t-shirt after your shower. 

"Your skin is very smooth, Old Hen."

"That's my exfoliation routine in the shower," you murmur, losing yourself to the calming sensation of his touch. You might fall asleep faster than you expected. 

"You took a long time to shower, about half an hour."

"I was also cleaning the bath tub and washing my underwear."

"Will you let me shower with you in the future?"

"Only after I am done. Then you can come in and play, I can't shower propely with you around." 

You can hear the amusement in his voice when he wonders why you don't want him to have a smooth skin like yours. 

"Spring Chicken, if you do what I do, you will damage your skin. I don't want that for you. Also, the routine afterwards takes a lot of discipline. I strongly advise you against it, just stick iwth what you are used to."

You hear Felix responding but the answer is not clear as you are being pulled by the undertow of sleep, you surrender to it. 

FELIX'S POV 

Saturday 25th May, 2025 - 4:34 pm

You have been awake for a litle while but didn't want to leave the floor where you are still lying with Y/N. She must be very exhausted, from her weekday cleaning job and then this morning you both did Olynpic style level exercise, it knocked her our completely. 

She nonchalantly walked out of her bedroom in hot pants and a t-shirt and it's the first time you have seen her bare thighs, and they are huge. It's one thing to see them covered up with her usual fitting pants or shorts but this time there was nothing left to the imagination. You refained from grabbing her immediately and kept yourself composed. Later on you got to explore a little, Y'N didn't protest as you kept it very tame, and she fell asleep, and so did you. 

Right now she's stirring, starting to wake up, and it seems her first instinct when she wake up is to pull you closer. Her hand is splayed on the small of your back, and the way she pulls you in even as she's still asleep is dominant and possessive, quite the opposite of her character when she's awake. You know Y/N is not fully herself when she interacts with you, and you get a few glimpses from tme to time that there's a more aggressive side to her. 

"Spring Chicken," her voice sounds very hoarse and sexy, "What time is it?"

"4:45 pm." 

Y/N's POV 

Saturday 24th May, 2025 - 4:45 pm

You have woken up after a nap on the floor, and someone's with you. It's disorienting at first, but a deep manly voice tells you the time. Oh, it's Felix. This beautiful young man, the one who makes you both happy and guilty at the same time. The one who reminds you that your time is gone and his is just beginning. The one whose partner makes you scared to death because he might possibly make you throw everything away just to follow them. You don't like this situation you are in, even though it fills a void you've had most of your life. These two men shouldn't be therapy for you. It's not fair to either them or yourself. But this feels so good, to be taken care of, without a hint of malice. It's just sad that you are holding back on reciprocating because when you did that in the past, the whole thing went south. So now you are stuck with microdosing your display of affection towards them. 

Saturday 24th May, 2025 - 7:50 pm

Felix made dinner, spaghetti and meat balls. And he seemed to want to talk about serious things while you both ate, you allowed him to when he asked. Felix is already thinking about what will happen after he leaves when his work permit expires. He wants to continue paying your bills, he wants you to continue being their woman, and his declaration makes your stomach tighten, the dinner starts to lose its taste. You really wanted a clean break and didn't anticipate this type of mess dragging you past their depature. You don't say anything at the moment, you let him keep talking. Felix is stil young and thinks he can do anything, life hasn't crushed him yet repeatedly to kill his light, he still has hope and energy to chase his dreams, even if those dreams are spread out across the entire planet. 

'Old Hen, what do you think?"

"I don't know how you will manage, with you back in Australia and Hyunjin back in Korea. How can we be a thing when we are seperated in the physical sense?" you ask. Felix notices the sadness in your eyes and voice even though you don't intend it to seep throuh, and he holds out his free hand to yours. You take his hand and let him tell you things you consider tall tales, life has taught you many things, even your costume C-Dramas remind you that people can't keep promises when they are dead, no matter how sincere they are when they make them. You let his voice attempt to soothe you, then he starts to rub his thumb in circles in your palm. Dinner is forgotten, you let yourself live in a fantasy, where the circular motion of his thumb across your palm writes a new destiny for you. 

Saturday 24th May, 2025 - 10 pm

The evening has taken a sombre tone and there's sadness hanging in the air. You are in bed with Felix, the portrait of both Felix and Hyunjin playing Hualian stares down at the two of your, fictional versions of the men in your life, looking down at you as though they mock your real relationship, whatever real means at this point. This evening feels like a farewell even though they both leave after August 2026, there's a lot of time but still, the gloom remains difficult to shake off.

The soft conversation between the two of you continues while you lie with your head on Felix's shoulder. Somtimes your bonnet slips and you have to fix it but it doesn't always matter. Felix learns about how you work to send money back home to care for your father. You let him have this information because you don't think it's damaging. You also let Felix know that your mom passed away, and he squeezes your hand lightly to comfort you. He then asks you to speak up because you seem to be withholding something, and you wonder how he can support you while in between jobs when he moves. Felix reminds you that he's a man, he'll take care of it. For the nth time that day, you hear a promise that has hurt you many times in the past. 

You have had enough of dark and serious topics, so you attempt to lighten the mood. 

"Spring Chicken, last weekend when I was at your place, the sheets didn't smell like Hyunjin."

"He hasn't used that bed in a long time, so we put fresh sheets. We'd put fresh sheets for you anyway even if he used the bed a lot."

"Could you ask him to sleep in the bed next time, the night before I show up?"

"Can I join him?"

"Sure, why not? Just don't play too many games in there, I don't want any spider webs in the sheets, if you know what I mean." 

This is enough to get the two of your laughing lightly. Felix start to pinch the rolls on your stomach lightly and you return the favour, You are soon rolling on the bed and at some point Felix's head is almost hanging of the bed with you towering over him, pinning his entire body onto the mattress. Your eyes meet and both your eyes clear of laughter and something more serious takes over, you see hunger in his eyes.

"Old Hen, kiss me."

You hesistate, he asks again, and takes your palm, and kisses the inside using just his lips. He asks again, reminds you that you are in control. He takes his forefinger, puts it on his lips, then to your lips, does it a couple of times. And now you have sweat on your brow. You hesistate because you are in the dominant position, on top of him, but to get this part over and done with, without a fight or flight response, you have to do this. You lean down and press your lips lightly to his, and wait a few seconds, then try again and keep your lips closed, you get used to the feeling and there's no panic. You think you can handle him doing the rest of the work. You want to just flip him and get it over and done with. Given your size and strength, it's easy work but you swore never to do this type of thing again. So you withdraw. 

"What's wrong Old Hen?"

"I think I can handle you taking the lead from now on."

Felix smiles at you, and sits back up since you withdrew and sat up and away from him. He takes your hand in his, and starts drawing the same circle on your palm to keep you from panicking. This circle feels like home at this point, and you welcome his lips when they connect to yours, and his tongue seeks yours out, very lightly and you surrender to the request. Feix takes it slow and depends the kiss, and in the end he's lying on top of you, with the comforting circle never ending in your palm. You find serenity. 

Sunday 25th May, 2026 - 1:00 pm

You are back home and feel so alone. Nothing crazy happened beyond kissing and caressing each other last night. You couldn't help yourself, you'd held onto his small waist most of the time, it was such a delight to explore.

You went to mass with Felix in the morning and you feel like you are in a haze. You held his hand the entire time, as often as you could. You are being sucked into feeling a lot for this young man, and you are starting to feel less guilty about it. 

Definition:

chan is the only one who sometimes remembers you have a name. he makes you feel like he could either pat your head or fire you without raising his voice. mostly he just nods when you hand him something, mutters “thanks” and keeps walking like you’re part of the wallpaper. one time he actually said “good job” after you fixed his in ear monitor in under ten seconds during soundcheck. you almost dropped dead from the shock.

lee know says maybe twelve words to you a day if you’re lucky. you hand him water, he takes it. you remind him something, he goes “mhm.” you accidentally bump into him backstage and he just sidesteps. you wonder if he even knows you’re the new assistant or if he thinks you’re just another staff member.

changbin is the only one who consistently doesn’t make you feel disposable. he always says “thank you so much” when you pass him anything. once you brought him his favorite hoodie you knew he likes and he looked at you like you hung the moon. “ah… really? you didn’t have to…” he still forgets your name sometimes but at least he tries. “you… the new one, right? sorry, what was it again?” cute fucker.

you want to kick hyunjin up. he’ll take the coffee you’re offering, and go “hm. a little cold already” like you personally pissed in it. you stand there wondering if you should spit in his next one. he’s not outright cruel, just lowkey evil in that hot way that makes you wanna smack him and also maybe climb him. he’s lucky you’re professional.

han seems to be fine by himself most of the time but says “thank youuu~” to you at leadt. pretty chill guy. doesn’t pay you much mind though. doesn’t pay much mind to anything.

felix manages a “oh, thank you” when you get him something but that’s mostly it. you swear he’s the only one who makes eye contact. lowk distant, not like you expected him to jump into your lap, just saying. you brought him throat candies once and he looked genuinely touched. “you noticed? ah, i’m sorry for the trouble.” bro you’re literally paid to notice.

seungmin doesn’t care much either. oh, staff, nice, gets me shit. helps me with shit. it’s their job, my job, that’s fine.

jeongin manages to thank you too, time to time. sometimes he’ll add a tiny “you’re fast” when you’re quick with something.

you hate working for them, to be honest.

just again, why would anyone expect these celebrities to be nice to you, but still. eye contact at least would be nice, dude. or dudes.

mornings are the worst. you’re running around with eight different demands at the same time. chan wants you to tell other people like, sixty things. hyunjin complains whatever drink he asked for is too sweet even though he didn’t fucking specify. lee know just takes whatever you give him and stares into the void. changbin thanks you three times. han acts hurt when you ask him something bc wdym he has to think when it’s your job. felix politely asks if you can find his missing earring. seungmin is on his phone all the time and jeongin is hiding behind his hood pretending he’s not awake yet.

when they’re not just rotting in the recording booths, you’re shoving water bottles, towels, monitors, this and that into their hands while they barely look at you.

“here.” “thanks.” “mhm.” “fuck, this cord is tangled again, who the hell—” (that’s seungmin).

hyunjin once threw his in ear back at you because it was “buzzing weird” and you caught it mid air. he actually looked surprised before going back to ignoring your existence.

but most of the time, you’re background noise. a pair of hands that brings things and fixes things and stays out of the way.

but just again, they’re not your friends and you do not expect them to be. they’re eight men in their twenties living in pressure all the time and they simply don’t have the energy to care about the new assistant beyond “does this person make my life easier right now?”

that’s fine with you. you get paid. you get to stare at handsome faces all day.

plus they’re all massive dramatic bitches when the stress gets too serious.

well, they never scream at you or anything, that would be unprofessional and they’re way too image conscious for that shit. but the passive aggressive energy? the tiny huffs? you want to strangle them.

hyunjin is like the final fuckass boss. you want to peg him just tor the way how he acts when something doesn’t go exactly his way. and not peg in the good way.

one morning you handed him his coffee and it had one too many ice cubes or whatever the fuck and he just stared at the cup.

“this again?” he muttered, then shoved it back into your hands without looking at you. “make it properly.”

later during rehearsal when his mic pack was acting up he actually clicked his tongue loud enough for you to hear and gave you that gut curling side eye like you invented technical difficulties yourself. bitch. you fixed it in thirty seconds flat and he didn’t even say thanks.

still, when he’s not in bitch mode he tolerates you fine. sometimes he even nods in your direction when he sees you. progress.

chan can get angry. “where’s the updated timing?” he asked you once, voice flat, like you were supposed to read his mind.

you scrambled, fixed it, handed it over. he took it without a word, scanned it, then just exhaled through his nose real hard.

the manly equivalent of slamming a door.

later he remembered to mutter “sorry, long day” but it still felt like you got lightly bitch slapped by responsibility.

you once brought lee know the wrong flavor of sum drink and he just looked at the bottle for five full seconds, then set it down slowly. he still takes whatever you give him most days and grunts “mhm” but on bad days that grunt sounds like it’s coming from the depths of hell.

changbin tries to behave, but he gets irritated at shit too. he’ll smile through it at first, “ah it’s okay…” but then he starts avoiding eye contact. not brave enough to actually point it out.

one time the stylists changed his outfit last minute and he had to wait for you to find the right shoes because it was put down somewhere. he stood there quietly for ten minutes, then very politely went “…it’s been a while, hm?”

you felt bad as fuck even though it wasn’t your fault. you got a thanks, at least.

han will still say thank you but it’s almost sarcastic. “thanks. really needed that.” said in a tone that implies he needed it five minutes ago. he wants you to be in place, you work for him after all.

felix stays fair at least. “it’s fine.” he’ll say. “just… next time maybe check twice?” you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. beautiful men should not be allowed to do this.

seungmin will take what you hand him, say thanks in the most neutral tone possible, and that’s it. says thanks but says it wirh the energy of thx.

sometimes he’ll just look through you like you’re not even there. one time you reminded him about something in twenty and he went “yeah i know” so flat you felt stupid for opening your mouth.

he’s not mean exactly, just… done. existing in his own bubble and you’re outside it.

jeongin will mumble thanks when you help him but if he’s stressed he gets his little attitude. “you sure this is the right one?” he asked once, holding up the wrong anything you accidentally gave him. made you feel so dumb. wanted you to feel dumb. then he smiled like he didn’t just lowkey call you incompetent. little shit.

still blushes when you catch him off guard though, so at least there’s that.

the days they’re huge bitches are usually the ones with back to back schedules, zero sleep, and zero breaks. you get it. so yeah, they snap a little. they get pissy. they sigh loud and click tongues and give you the cold shoulder.

but they don’t hate you, actually. none of them has ever complained about you to management or asked for someone else.

they like you enough not to make your life hell, but not enough to treat you like a person most days. you’re useful. reliable. that’s about it. you’re like any other staff, assigned a little closer to them, maybe.

you like watching chan lead them thru another flawless performance like he didn’t almost bite your head off six hours earlier.

men.

and it’s always, a l w a y s, y/n this. y/n that. y/n where is my nonstop. they’re on your dick 24/7.

“y/n.”

“y/n get me water.”

“y/n my in ear is messed up again.”

“y/n where’s the schedule?”

“y/n, hurry.”

even when they’re being bitches they still need you. especially when they’re being bitches.

hyunjin is your favorite to be honest. not because oh bias or anything, just because you actually kinda fuck with the way he’s like this. it’s like those female teachers loving the boys even though the boys are annoying and disrespectful.

“y/n. fix this.” he’ll say, pissy, shoving his half buttoned shirt at you. the stylist buttoned it for him perfectly before, mind you. fuck did he unbutton it for? bitch go tell the stylist this not y/n. (you did it for him)

one time he was in a full mood during rehearsal, everything was wrong, and he kept calling your name every thirty seconds. “y/n this light is too bright.” “y/n the floor feels sticky.”

you fixed it all but told him under your breath “then lick it cleaner, princess”

he actually heard you. you thought you were getting fired right there. wouldn’t even have minded it either, but he just gave you the deadest stare but didn’t say shit because deep down he knows he’s being a hoe.

when chan asks you to bring the this, the that, you bring it. two minutes later: “y/n, the pens?” you bring pens. five minutes later: “y/n—” you almost throw the whole fucking folder at his head.

lee know doesn’t even say full sentences anymore. just “y/n.” and then points at whatever he needs. water. towel. phone charger.

once he did the finger point while staring straight ahead.

you almost broke his finger.

you handed him the thing and he went “mhm”

changbin at least can get a nice tone on for FUCK’s sake. “y/n, sorry, could you get me the…?” it’s every ten minutes. you catch him looking a little guilty sometimes, mayb he knows they’re all overusing you, but then five minutes later he’s doing it again because his brain is fried and your help is nice.

han says thank you at least. he, compared to the others, lowkey leaves you alone. but that’s compared to the others. he still needs this and that and oh also—

felix really likes calling for you. sometimes he adds a tiny “sorry for bothering you again” but then asks for thirty things at once after that.

seungmin takes what you give him and barely look up, but god forbid you’re two steps too slow. he’ll just exhale hard through his nose. he’s on your dick just as much as the rest, just quieter about it.

“y/n…” jeongin mumbles at first, then if you take too long he gets this little smirk. “y/n, you sleeping or what?” he gon get his arm broken very soon, you’re capable of many things. whoop foreshadowing.

anyways, one time he called your name four times in a row because he couldn’t find his own fucking socks and when you finally found them he went “wow you’re slow today” you wanted to stuff the socks in his mouth.

you’ll be in the middle of fixing something on hyunjin(he’s a bitch but still lets you this close to him, says a lot tbh) and chan will call from across the room “y/n, timing?” and han will chime in “y/n i need my phone” and suddenly it’s a chorus of your name from eight different directions.

y/n.

y/n.

y/n.

yeah it’s not rare that you get called for from multiple directions at the same time.

take it when hyunjin and changbin both go y/n at the exact same second.

hyunjin’s voice is already pissy because his shirt collar is sitting weird. “y/n, fix this, it’s choking me.”

changbin is just as demanding but has a nicer tone to it. “y/n… sorry, can you pass me the throat spray? my voice feels off.”

you freeze for half a second while both of them stare at you expecting you to split in two.

hyunjin clicks his tongue. “well?”

you end up tossing the spray to changbin first because he was nicer about it, then you’re on hyunjin adjusting his stupid pretty collar while he looks down at you.

“faster.” he mutters. you want to bite his neck. not in the sexual way. you actually want to rip his veins out.

you two lowk like each other.

then chan. “y/n, is my laptop there?” lee know just lifts one hand lazily without even looking up. “water.” han is waving at you with that big smile that hides how tired he is. “y/n, my protein bar, the chocolate one!” felix raises his hand too “yo y/n, any chance you got my phone?“ seungmin next “y/n, mind grabbing me a coffee? black, thanks.” and jeongin is peeking from behind his phone. “y/n? can you check if my shoes are laced right? feels weird.” he could do it himself, mind you. he just likes to slave you around. all eight do.

all eight. at once. you’re one woman. you have two hands and one brain that’s currently dying.

when y’all have somewhere to be, every five minutes someone needs something. “y/n, my earphones are tangled.” hyunjin, pissy. “y/n, do we have any gum?” felix. “y/n, what time are we arriving again?” chan. lee know doesn’t even say your name, he just looks at you and you already know, water. han is the only one who adds a cute “please” most times, but even he piles on. changbin tries to be independent, at least. seungmin throws a “y/n, charger?” your way. jeongin entertains himself, he’s usually not that big of a problem when you’re out.

one night after a crazy schedule when all of them are quiet for once, changbin murmurs a “y/n, my neck hurts, any painkillers?” and “y/n—” “y/n—” “y/n, me too actually—” “yeah, if you have extra.”

you had to take the deepest breath. you’ll be a good mother after all this practice at least.

but let’s be real, after all this time and you not quitting, the hoes started to slowly trust you.

not in the let’s be besties way, but they know they can count on y/n.

they stop watching you like a hawk when you hold their phones. they leave expensive watches and half used shit on tables and don’t triple check if you moved anything. they even complain about managers infront of you sometimes.

they know you won’t fuck them over.

the biggest change happened because of chan.

it was genuinely a disaster of a night. everything went to shit. at 1:17am he pulled out his phone, texted you that he needs help with something. dorm if you can.

and you went because you’re a damn good assistant. security also let you through because apparently chan had already cleared it.

he opened their door in a black hoodie and sweats, hair so cute, looking equal parts grateful and dead. but he was really, really, really relieved to see you. “come in. sorry it’s a mess.”

it was messy, but sure, they’re men.

andyou spent the whole night at their tiny dining table with him. everything work related was on the table. chan was surprisingly open once the door was closed.

you even massaged his shoulders for ten minutes when he looked close to death. he kept muttering “thanks… seriously y/n” every hour or so. woah, gratitude we see there?

he really needed you that night. he needed the help he doesn’t usually take.

then jeongin’s little bitchass walked out of his room around 3:30am wearing nothing but black boxers, hair sticking up everywhere, half asleep and scratching his stomach.

he just gave you a lazy little slap on the arm as he passed. “hey, y/n.” he mumbled, walking weird(nothing happened, men just walk weird sometimes we know that), drank a huge glass of water, then casually walked back to his room.

your mouth went dry. he looked so hot.

chan just shook his head.

you powered through. by 6am chan had everything solid.

he told you to “go home. take the whole day off tomorrow— today. whatever. you earned it. i’ll tell management.” you tried to argue but he just shook his head. “no. sleep.” like okay dada.

each of the others had their opinions of this night, of course. most of the disagreement was pointed towards chan, not you. it was chan who let staff this close into their finally earned personal space, and you were just doing your job. but just again, this was most. the ones who think less in general, felix for an example, or seungmin but he does use his brain, those were the ones who did feel a little bit different about you.

but even they got over it because they have bigger shit to deal with.

plus… you’re actually fun to be around.

they realized that.

chan, after that all nighter, looks at you with actual respect. you’re not just staff anymore but someone who has his back, even though you’re doing it because you get paid for it.

“y/n, handle this for me?” and you do, because you’re reliable as fuck and he knows. you’re pretty much the only staff member who doesn’t make his head hurt.

then one afternoon you were sitting on a couch and… minho sat down next to you? like so next to you that his whole thick sidewas pressed up against yours. thigh to thigh, arm to arm, everything.

and he talked to you??? “i don’t like this schedule.” he muttered. “they keep adding shit. you notice that too?” you nodded like a dumbass and he kept going, complaining about this and that.

five whole minutes of lee know having a conversation while basically cuddling you on a tiny couch. you didn’t move. you didn’t breathe too loud. when he finally got up he just gave you one nod and left. your leg was asleep for twenty minutes after. men are disgustingly hot.

all because he saw that chan put trust in you.

changbin has straight up adopted you. he follows you around whenever he’s not needed, chatting about random stuff just to talk to you. other staff have literally gotten used to seeing the two of you walking side by side down every corridor.

you’re delivering papers? he’s right there beside you, chatting. you’re grabbing coffee for everyone? he tags along carrying one cup just to talk.

hyunjin started this disgusting new habit where he’ll stress eat half a fucking sandwich, or a granola bar, or some random pastry, then shove the sad remains straight into your hand.

“here. it’s yours now.”

one time it was a half eaten banana and he just pressed the mushy end into your palm while looking you dead in the eye.

“finish it.”

you stood there holding warm banana goo wondering how the fuck your life got to this point.

you were starving though. his saliva didn’t even taste that bad.

one night, like really late night when the others were still recording in the booth and you were sitting in the couch of that room, han just… sat in your lap??

“y/n, bounce me.”

so you kept talking to another staff member while you had your arms around the man and bounced your knees up and down. his ass was warm and heavy and every bounce made your thighs burn.

the unprofessional ever.

he enjoyed it though and that’s what matters. (this action will have consequences ahh)

one evening felix texted you saying he needed help with some paperwork shit at the dorm because he was too wiped to think straight. other staff usually deal with it for him but this time they shoved it into his hands and he had to take it home.

anyways. when you were there you made the mistake of saying “that shirt looks nice on you” professionally!!

felix paused, looked down at it, then just peeled it off right there, tossed it at your face and said “keep it.”

you caught it on instinct, fabric still warm from his body, and stood there holding a shirt worth a kidney.

seungmin usually keeps his distance but one night he was heading down to grab late night food for the boys. he asked the boys first, the usual, then turned to you. “y/n, you want anything?”

you stopped. seungmin remembering the staff exists? seungmin offering?

you muttered something about candy and he nodded, came back twenty minutes later with your little chocolate bar.

you’d been promoted from staff to lowkey pet.

some night you had to stand outside with some important smoking higher people while the boys were indoors, it was freezing. jeongin noticed from the window, disappeared for thirty seconds, then came out and draped his own jacket over your shoulders with a friendly smile. you thanked him hundreds of times but he just waved you off and went back inside. he jacket smelled like him. boy sweat, cologne, whatever detergent they use with chan. your mouth watered a little remembering the boxers incident. men make you feral.

as long as you’re around, shit runs smoother.

you’re just trying not to moan out loud when another one of them does something intimate while calling your name for the hundredth time that day.

fucking men. fucking hoes.

fucking unbelievable.

fucking sweet.

you’re back in chan and jeongin’s dorm again, way past midnight , because apparently “just one more hour of reviewing this” turned into “let’s camp out until the sun comes up.”

jeongin is already passed out in his room.

the whole situation screams unprofessional from every angle. you, sitting on the floor next to chan’s bed with your laptop balanced on your knees while he sits in his gaming chair, elbows on the desk, staring at his own screen.

the room smells like him. you like it.

you’re in your boss’s bedroom at 2am helping him work. assistant duties, sure. but still. hope we can all see what’s up.

chan rubs his eyes with one big hand and sighs. “y/n… you any good with this negotiation shit?”

you stretch your back. “yeah, i’m decent. learned a bunch from the last company i was at. act like you’re doing them a favor. also i’m good at reading between the lines on email tone, when they’re bluffing, when they’re actually pissed, that kinda thing.”

he nods, listening.

“honestly, i’m good at a lot of shit.” you say. “i know, uuh, spreadsheets, schedules, calming down people, giving killer blowjobs when the situation calls for it.”

the second the words leave your mouth your soul leaves your body.

you slap both hands over your face. “oh my god, chan, i’m so fucking sorry. that was disgusting. i was joking. i’m just exhausted, my brain’s not working, please pretend i didn’t say that. holy shit i wanna die.”

he stares at you for a second, then lets out this little surprised laugh, shoulders shaking a little. that whole combo looks good on him.

“fuck, okay. it’s fine, y/n. really. we’re both running on no sleep. don’t worry about it. shit slips out.” chuckling a little, eyes crinkling at the corners. “didn’t expect that one, though.”

you nod fast, mumble a “heh yeah mhm” face burning, wanting to disappear, and force your eyes back to your screen.

the silence that follows feels different than before.

minutes tick by. you’re both typing again, but the energy in the room has changed. bad. human energy. physical.

chan keeps glancing over.

then he clears his throat. “y/n.”

you look up. you know you’re going to get fired in this saint second.

“would you… be down for it?”

huh?

“down for what?”

he exhales through his nose, he can’t believe he’s saying this out loud. “the blowjob.” and immediately he leans back, hands coming up. “fuck, sorry, that came out wrong. i didn’t mean to make it weird, this is so unprofessional, i’m your boss basically, we’re both tired, this is crossing every line, i haven’t had any action in months and i’m tired, just forget i said anything—”

“sure.”

“sure?”

you swallow. “i mean… yeah. if you want. we can keep it professional. i’m offering to help because it’s my job. i don’t mind helping. really. like no weirdness after. or any attachment if that’s what you’re afraid of. just… relief. like the other stuff i do for you guys. we both know this stays between us.”

he watches you for a long time, searching your face. making sure you’re not fucking with him.

holy shiiiiit.

the leader in him is clearly fighting the man who’s been running on stress for months.

finally his eyebrows move lower on his face. he looks so good. “you sure? i don’t want you feeling like you have to. if it’s a hard no, say it. we go back to work and pretend this conversation never happened.”

you nod, setting your laptop aside on the bed. “i’m sure. we’re both adults. you trust me enough to let me in here. i trust you enough to keep it between us. it’s just… helping. professionally, i guess.”

chan rubs his face with both hands, then drops them, looking at you with disbelief. “fuck. okay. yeah. if you’re really down… that would actually be… shit, i don’t even know how to say it without sounding like an asshole.”

he shifts in the chair, the move making his sweats pull tighter across his lap. you don’t let your eyes drop there. not yet.

“i want to, chan. shut up and let your assistant help.”

“alright. if you’re sure.”

you nod, heart racing, moving toward him on the floor.

the air between you crackles with how fucking human and inevitable this whole thing is.

wait, no, i meant to say professional.

totally fucking professional.

he watches you approach, throat working as he swallows. hot. “y/n…”

“mm?”

“thank you. seriously.”

you smile, sweet, beautiful, even as you settle down between his spread legs. “anytime, chan. now relax and let me do my job.”

the laptop screen glows behind him, forgotten. for the first time in weeks, mr leader looks like he actually feels something besides depression.

you keep your voice to a whisper, soft and comforting, you’re so good at it. “it’s okay. you’ve been so wound up. let me take care of it.”

his eyes are locked on yours, and now you can actually feel them do something to you. you can already see the outline of him straining against the front of his sweats, tented up nice and obvious now, the shape of his cock pushing forward cuz it’s been trying to wave hello after you two danced around the idea for ten whole minutes.

you drag one finger in slow, lazy circles on the inside of his thigh. god, that’s a muscle there. up and down.

“that’s it.” you whisper. “just let it happen. you’re safe with me tonight.”

he lets out a low, shaky breath through his nose, thighs spreading wider. the outline gets thicker, harder, the head of him nudging more obviously against the fabric until the whole thing is basically throbbing there, begging.

you keep circling that finger, pressing a little firmer each time, watching the way his cock jumps every time you get close but never quite touch it yet.

when he’s fully hard, cock standing so stiff it’s almost pathetic how it strains the waistband of his sweats, a tiny wet spot already forming where the tip is leaking, you finally hook your fingers into the elastic. slow as fuck. you tug the sweats down his hips inch by inch, letting them bunch around his cute ankles. his boxer briefs come next, black and snug, the front stretched obscenely over the fat length of him. you peel those down too, careful, watching his cock spring free and slap up against his stomach with a soft, heavy sound.

and jesus fucking christ.

he’s big. not porn star ridiculous ofc, but real man big. thick, veiny, kind of cock that makes your mouth water. like wdym your boss has been packing this the whole time? the head is flushed, already shiny with pre cum beading at the slit. his balls are heavy underneath, drawn up tight from how turned on he is, nestled in a bush of dark pubes that get light when going up his pretty little stomach. makes your stomach flip.

“y/n… shit, i haven’t had time to, i’m not really shav—”

you press a finger to your lips, a soft shh, then slide a hand up his thigh and squeeze the thick muscle there, reassuring. “don’t. seriously. it’s fine. you’re perfect like this.”

you don’t mind. you expected it. this man barely has time to sleep, let alone shave his junk.

his eyes go wide.

hungry.

that little thing, you telling him he’s perfect just changed something in his dumb man brain and now he’s stupidly, suddenly attracted to you in a way that goes waaaay past professional relief. not just attracted, attached.

his cock twitches hard in the air between you, confirming it, another bead of pre sliding down the shaft.

you spit into your palm. lands loud in the quiet room. not so ladylike but after all it is, because you use it to wrap your hand around the base of him. slow. so fucking slow. feels so funny. in the hot way.

you stroke up from the root all the way to the head, thumb swirling over the leaking tip to spread everything nice and slick. down again, twisting your wrist a little, spreading your spit around, feeling the way his pubes tickle the side of your hand on every pass.

chan’s head falls back against the chair. he lets out these low little sounds. guttural might be the best word. a deep “mmph” when you squeeze tighter on the upstroke. a shaky exhale that turns into a quiet little groan when you drag your thumb right under the head where he’s most sensitive. his balls are basically in love with you.

you keep it slow, just learning the shape of him, the way his cock pulses in your grip, learning how he’s built.

work’s gonna be real difficult after this, knowing the exact shape of your boss’ cock, but whatever. now’s not the time to think about that.

another spit, right onto the head this time, and you spread it with your palm, making everything messy.

looks obscene. looks like him.

he’s leaking constantly now, precum mixing with your spit and dripping down over your knuckles.

you twist your hand on the way back up, firm, perfect, and chan’s hips jerk once, oh fuck he didn’t mean to, a “fuck”slipping out.

you keep going like that. long strokes. base to tip. tip to base. sometimes you pause at the head and just milk him with your thumb and fingers, watching more pre ooze out. sometimes you roll his balls gently in your other hand, feeling how full they are, how manly.

every sound he makes is quiet but real, that’s why it’s so hot, low grunts, shaky sighs, the occasional deep something in his chest that you can’t quite identify. his hands are gripping the arms of the chair.

you glance up at him every few strokes, catching the way his jaw clenched, eyes half lidded, so so so hot, and fixed on your hand working him, that beautiful face flushed and fucked up already.

he looks like he came six fucking times already and you’ve barely even started. he looks fucking gone. the outline in his pants was nothing compared to the real thing, big, heavy in your hand, twitching and leaking.

shit, like he hasn’t been touched in months.

chan lets out another quiet groan, hips shifting, moving up into your hand. his cock is flushed darker now, veins standing out, the head glossy and swollen. beautiful.

you squeeze his thigh again with your free hand, comforting, and he melts a little more into the chair, another “mmh…” escaping him.

you’re really fucking good at this.

you keep stroking him slowly and slick for a few more (torturous) seconds, watching his cock live in your fist, veins bulging, the head shiny and leaking. chan’s thighs are tense as fuck around you, muscles flexing in pleasure. his breathing is rough, the low grunts turning into shaky little huffs that he’s clearly trying to keep quiet because jeongin is still in the building.

you lean in closer, spit one more onto the tip. it lands and slides down the shaft, mixing with all the pre already dripping everywhere.

then you finally stop the foreplay.

you take him into your mouth.

the second your lips wrap around the swollen head chan has to take a biiiig breath, head tilted back, his mouth shut, teeth gritted.

you sink down fast, taking as much of his thick cock as you can in one go, lips hugging the girth. so snug. half his length disappears into your (hot, wet) mouth and you hollow your cheeks immediately, wow, sucking like you’re trying to pull the stress right out of his balls.

chan’s hand flies to the back of your head, then leaves it because he remembers you’re his assistant, and flies to the chair instead. his hips thrust up, chasing you, and you let him, relaxing your throat so another inch slides in.

his eyes actually cross.

the head bumps the back of your throat and you swallow around him, throat muscles struggling, but still milking the tip. spit is already pouring out the corners of your mouth, dripping down his shaft and soaking into the dark pubes at the base. you don’t care. you bob your head, then again, and again, sloppy and greedy(for your boss’ cock), gluck gluck gluck.

chan has to breathe with his mouth open to bear with the pleasure.

every time you pull back you swirl your tongue around the head, sucking hard on the sensitive underside before diving back down, nose pressing into his pubes on the deepest strokes.

it’s so obscene. so filthy. has that human smell that’s almost disgusting but more hot.

his balls are right there, heavy(makes him even hotter in your eyes), so you reach up with one hand and roll them gently, fingers slipping through the soft hair covering them, tugging, massaging, making his cock jump in your mouth.

the sounds he’s making are pure porn.

“y/n… fuck— y/n—”

music. to. your. fucking. ears.

it’s the only opinion he can get out. pure disbelief that his quiet, sweet little assistant is sucking his soul out through his dick like a pro. where the fuck did you learn to do this? the question is written all over his fucked face, but all that comes out is another desperate “y/n… shit—”

you hum around him. his cock twitches violently on your tongue, another thick spurt of pre flooding your mouth. you swallow it down greedily, moaning softly so he feels it, then pull off just long enough to spit on him again. messy, strings of saliva connecting your lips to his glistening cock, so unprofessional(well no fucking shit), before you dive back in even harder.

you’re giving him your best. head bobbing fast and sloppy, one hand stroking what your mouth can’t reach, twisting. the other hand keeps playing with his balls, feeling how full and heavy they are, how the skin wrinkles under your fingers.

spit is everywhere. dripping down your chin, running down his shaft, soaking his pubes.

every time you take him deep your throat makes these disgusting gurgling noises and chan’s thighs start shaking around your shoulders.

he’s panting now, chest heaving under his hoodie, head thrown back against the chair. his whines are getting higher, god, he can’t believe how good it feels.

his cock is rock hard and pulsing, the head basically exploding in pleasure everytime it hits the back of your throat. you suck harder, cheeks hollowed, tongue working the underside.

good little assistant you are.

you pull off for a second to catch your breath, strings of thick spit connecting your swollen lips to his cock. you stroke him fast with your slick hand, watching the way his balls tighten even more, the way his pubes are soaked and clinging to his skin. then you lean down and take him back down, burying your nose in his pubes until your throat is bulging around him.

chan is gone. completely gone. not here anymore. his whines turn into these animal groans that he tries to muffle with his fist, but they still leak out.

you go faster now. sloppier. throat relaxing so you can take him even deeper, nose grinding into him. spit bubbles at the corners of your mouth and drips onto his balls. your hand keeps working the base, stroking in time with your mouth, squeezing. his cock is so wet it sounds disgusting, loud, wet, filthy sucking noises that would be embarrassing if either of you gave a single fuck right now.

his thighs are trembling hard around you. his abs are clenching under the hoodie.

you look up at him through wet lashes, eyes watering from how deep you’re taking him, and the sight of the big strong leader completely dying because of your mouth is enough to make you moan around his cock.

you feel the power of your situation. your jaw is starting to ache but you don’t care. you love it. you love how his thighs are shaking around your shoulders, how his balls feel in your palm, how every time you pull off for a breath a string of spit connects your swollen lips to his glistening cock and he stares down at you like he’s seeing god.

he’s leaking so much it’s constant now, salty and warm and kinda ew, sliding down your throat while you moan around him because you’re so fucking turned on it hurts.

you feel powerful. you feel wanted. you feel the stress melting out of his body.

he doesn’t want this to end, but he’s so close that it might very soon. because you’re that good.

that’s why his hips don’t stop twitching, squirming around, and his thighs spread more, trembling, and that “y/n… y/n…” turns into one long moan.

you push deeper, swallowing around him, throat squeezing tight as the first thick rope of cum shoots down your throat. it’s hot, salty, a lot, months of stress and no release all pouring out in wild spurts that you swallow greedily, cheeks hollowed, eyes watering you keep sucking through it, milking him with your mouth and hand while he cums and cums and cums like he’s never going to stop. doesn’t taste that good but you’re just doing your job, aren’t you, y/n?

“y/n— fuck— y/n—” his voice is so fucking whiny it makes your pussy clench.

you take every twitch, every throb, every spurt as it coats your tongue and slides down. your toes are curled. the musky smell of him mixed with fresh cum is so filthy and human it makes your head spin.

you keep working him through the whole thing, slow and gentle now, sucking softly on the sensitive head while the last weak pulses dribble onto your tongue.

his cock is twitching, now just half hard, shiny and messy with spit and cum when you finally pull off. sounds wet. a string of saliva and semen connects your swollen lips to his tip for a second before it breaks and drips onto his balls.

you swallow one last time, then back on your heels, wiping the corner of your mouth with the back of your hand. “all done, boss.”

chan’s slumped in the chair, chest heaving, eyes half lidded and kinda crossed??, mouth open. he looks like he doesn’t know whether to propose or cry.

he sighs. reaches down slowly, tucking his spent, spit shiny cock back into his boxers with shaky hands, then yanks his sweats up over his hips. the wet spot on the front is lame. funny. then sits there for a second, rebooting.

then he stands up on slightly unsteady legs, runs a hand through his messy hair, and mutters “i’m… gonna take a quick shower. you can go home. i mean— fuck, not like i’m sending you home, god no, i’m not that much of an asshole. i just… you’ve been here all night, you should rest—”

“i know what you mean. it’s okay. i’ll head out.” voice sweet and professional like you didn’t just swallow his load two minutes ago.

he nods, relief and some emotional dilema on his face. he looks like he wants to say something bigger but doesn’t know how. instead he just says “do you want tomorrow off? you earned it. more than earned it.”

you shake your head, standing up and smoothing your clothes. “no, i’m good. i’ll see you. don’t worry about me.”

he watches you gather your stuff for a second, then nods.

you slip out of the apartment as quietly as you can.

your lips feel swollen, your jaw aches, and you can still taste him. your panties are soaked through, thighs sticky, and your brain is a mess of what the fuck did i just do and holy shit that was hot.

back inside, chan stands under the shower for a long time, hot water pounding on his shoulders, trying to wrap his head around the fact that his you, his assistant, just got on her knees and sucked him dry.

he keeps thinking of the way you looked up at him, the way you swallowed everything, the little cheeky “all done, boss” after. god, that was hot. cherry on fucking top.

his chest feels tight. it has nothing to do with the orgasm and everything to do with how much he suddenly wants to pull you close and make you his girl. and with the stress and anxiety, of course. how will tomorrow go? will you act normal? how will the boys find out? ugh. he might just go and cuddle up next to jeongin in hopes of getting some comfort, for fuck’s sake.

and… oh my god, you’re back at it the next day like nothing happened, running around. like, for all eight of them again. y/n get this, y/n fix that strap, y/n where’s my fucking charger, y/n my coffee’s cold.

y/n you deserve a month off. a year. a life. respect to you.

and you and chan are scarily professional. no signs. no weird eye contact, no blushing, nothing. wow.

you hand him something and he says “thanks” you fix something on him and he just nods.

but there’s this new tension in the air that the other seven clock immediately.

chan is… softer. more boy than man. or maybe more man than boy. his shoulders aren’t as locked up. that’s good. he laughs a little quicker at han’s dumb jokes. and his eyes keep flicking to you when you’re across the room, then away. he even says “take it easy today, y/n” once in passing, and you smile at him like you didn’t have his cock down your throat eight hours ago.

the boys aren’t stupid. they’ve known chan for years, we know that. they can read that man easily.

so the second they’re alone, one of the bigger studio rooms or green rooms or whatever after the afternoon schedule, doors shut, no staff, just the eight of them sprawled on couches...

“okay what the fuck is up with you and y/n?” han asks legs kicked up on the coffee table. “did something happen?”

chan freezes mid sip of his water. “what? no. shut up.”

hyunjin leans forward. “no, something’s up. are you okay?”

chan rubs his face, puts the water down. he keeps glancing at the door. “it’s not— look, it’s nothing. we’re fine. drop it.”

changbin watches him. “you know you can tell us.”

“no, it’s not about y/n.”

“then?”

chan groans, head falling back against the couch. he’s quiet for a long minute, jaw working, chewing on his mouth, clearly fighting with himself. plus he just lied about it not being about you. fuck.

the silence is killing them.

“…y/n blew me, okay?”

dead silence.

“like..?” han mumbles, grabbing imaginary hair in front of him and thrusting his hips forward into the air like he’s face fucking someone.

hyunjin watches. giggles. says “like..?” and tilts his head back, opens his mouth wide, and jerks both hands up and down like he’s milking a cock into an open mouth. “like this?” his voice is so cute, giggling, laughing, smiling ear to ear. he’s beautiful.

“like..?” felix pokes his tongue hard into his cheek so it bulges out while he jacks the air next to his face with one hand.

“like..?” changbin twists both hands in the air like he’s gripping a thick shaft, then leans forward and makes loud sucking noises above it, hollowing his cheeks, eyes big and looking up at chan while he does the most pornographic blowjob mime you’ve ever seen. “mmh… mmh… like this? deepthroat?”

“like..?” jeongin smirks and makes a fist, then bobs his head down on it fast while making exaggerated gagging sounds. “y/n taking the whole thing?“

“like..?” seungmin leans back and acts like he’s holding a hair above his crotch, pulling the imaginary hair up and down.

minho giggles out loud. “like..?” then starts thrusting up into the air, holding himself up with his back on the couch he’s sitting on.

chan buries his face in his hands, ears red.

they’re all laughing their fuckasses off but are also genuinely shocked. like did this really happen? in their years of careers this actually happened? to chan??

“no fucking way—”

“how the hell did she take you?”

“you didn’t tell us?”

“did she swallow?”

“was it good?”

chan groans. head in his hands. “yes, okay? it was… fuck, it was insane.” he slaps his face with the two hands holding it up. “she’s really good at it. i didn’t even know… i still don’t know how. and we’re keeping it professional. it was just… stress relief. one time. that’s it. i asked her for it and she said yes.”

the room goes quiet.

then han starts thrusting into the air again, laughing in chan’s face.

felix pokes his tongue in his cheek again, then pulling it away and poking it back really fast, going into chan’s face.

changbin is screaming laughing, still twisting the air. minho can’t breathe and keeps slapping changbin’s shoulders as he twists around from silent laughter.

“and you did that next to me?” jeongin whines but he’s smiling ear to ear. he’s so entertained.

“when’s my turn?“ hyunjin asks.

chan throws a pillow at him. “shut the fuck up. none of you say shit to her. i’m serious. this stays here.”

they all nod, still laughing, still processing. they’re shocked as fuck. horny. jealous. proud. men.

and now every single one of them is now lowkey wondering how the fuck they can get on your good side next.

and boom, they’re suddenly… nicer. not in a fake polite way. in a scary, intentional, grown man way. suddenly, they’re not huge assholes.

minho sits next to you again. and again. and again. always watching you talk, chin in his palm usually, nodding along, smiling, laughing with you. what the fuck.

changbin finds you on the halls again. “y/n, how long have you been doing this kind of work? do you like it? does it get exhausting dealing with us all day?” his pretty eyes focused on your face. when you say it can be hard, he smiles and says “you’re really good at it. we notice, you know.” then he lightly bumps your shoulder with his. you notice that too.

hyunjin actually waits until you’re close and gently tugs your sleeve. “y/n. come here for a second.” when you step closer he holds out his iced coffee like an offering. “taste this. too sweet again?” you take a sip and he watches your mouth the whole time, eyes intense. baby stop. “hm. ‘kay.” then he gives you this tiny half smile and walks off. you stand there blinking like he just grew a second head.

han full on grabs your arm during break, tugging you over to the couch he’s sitting on. “y/n sit with me for a bit. my shoulders are bad from yesterday, can you press here?” he makes you touch him.

felix leans against the wall next to you during a break, not in the cringe way but in that boyish loose way that’s so ggrgrghghh, sipping his drink, and goes “so what do you do when you’re not running after us? any hobbies? boyfriend? …no? hm.”

seungmin also uses the digging technique first. “you got family around here? siblings? what made you want to work in this industry?” he asks you. listens. anything for his dick tbh, even though your answers aren’t boring.

jeongin usually smiles ear to ear when he gets close to you, using his voice. using it good. or asks you to pass things that are literally in fucking arm reach, putting his fingers on yours purposely. his best attempt at flirting.

and chan is trying so fucking hard. he’s professional, respectful, gives you space… but his eyes follow you constantly.

“y/n, thanks.” “y/n, good job.” oh suddenly he can be grateful.

when no one’s watching he squeezes your shoulder gently, even.

uhuh there goes being professional and he knows that.

why isn’t he stopping himself? why can’t he listen to his brain when it’s about something this important? it was a one time thing. fuck.

the way they’re all suddenly tugging your arm, asking about your life, watching your mouth when you talk, finding excuses to be close… it’s too coordinated. too on purpose. too curious. too hungry. too boy.

you have a pretty strong guess that chan cracked and told them at least some version of what happened that night.

the thought makes your face hot every time one of them calls your name now because now it feels meant. like they’re all imagining the same thing.

and they’re so good at it. these are grown men who’ve spent years charming fans, interviewers, sponsors. they know exactly how to act, what to say. they learned this.

they’re doing this to get something. it’s lowkey mind games. that’s their whole life already.

because they’re wondering the same thing. if she did that for chan… what would she do for me?

plus they value chan so much that the fact he let you that close somehow makes you… safe. approved. part of the inner circle now. it’s weirdly sweet when we ignore the fact that they’re only doing it to get some game too.

my actual respect goes for the way they’re still pros on the surface, perfect smiles for cameras or other people, flawless interviews and public presence, but the second the staff clears out or the doors close, you’re left and their imagination of the position you sucked chan off with.

but around you, so unprofessional.

which is horrible, but they keep doing it.

minho actually contains himself, kind of. just sometimes puts an arm behind you when sitting with you on a couch. testing how you’d feel under him. or he’ll press his palm flat against your waist to gently move you aside when he wants something from the table behind you. like hello to you too daddy.

changbin catches you in the hallway, gently grabs your waist to turn you toward him. “y/n, wait, can you—” all the time. he’s wondering how you’d look looking up at him with those same helpful eyes while your mouth is full.

you’re helping hyunjin adjust his collar(it’s the fucking stylists’ job, why did he demand you to do it?) when his hand slides around your waist from behind, holding onto you.

“tighter on the left.” he mutters.

when you’re finished he gives your waist a tiny squeeze before letting go.

han actually gives you hugs now. like a saying hi hug in the mornings which always he initiates. hugging just to touch, no emotion behind it. it’s unprofessional and annoying. he’s not a smart man but has a goal now. he’s interested and so is something else on him.

felix keeps it casual. he leans in while you’re handing him water, but leans in on purpose. “thanks, y/n.” oh hello getting polite aren’t we.

seungmin is not touchy. respect tbh.

not like jeongin, who tugs you by the waist constantly now. “y/n, come here real quick.” wants his dick sucked NOW.

and they’re talking to you more than ever. and they exchange the information they got. they are standing on business. they’re horny boys first, idols second right now.

plus they can see that the energy between you and chan is thick as fuck now. he texts you more, he lets you into his space easier. during a late rehearsal he pulls you aside and tells you “that night, it helped. a lot. more than you know.”

the tension is there, but nothing sexual has happened again. yet. he’s holding back, trying to be professional, but you can feel how bad he wants more.

too bad the other seven want a piece of whatever chan got that night.

felix is the straighest about it. during a break he leans in, eyes dragging over you, slowly(he was trained to do this), and goes “you look good today, y/n. really good.” it sounds friendly on the surface, like a casual compliment, but the way his gaze lingers on your lips and then drops to your chest makes it anything but. he smiles after, boyish, beautiful, like he didn’t just eye fuck you in broad daylight. waiter waiter a whole box of xanax please

the others are sneakier but still deeply unprofessional and they know it. they ask about your life like they’re actually interested, but the questions always have this undertone now. because they just want your body.

minho sits next to you again, thigh pressed to yours DADA, and has actual conversations. “you like taking care of people, huh?” he says, eyes on your face. then, quieter, “must feel good when someone takes care of you back.” he wants to be the one making you feel good.

changbin is with you in the hallway again. “do you ever get lonely? with how much we keep you running around? you deserve someone who takes care of you too, you know.”

hyunjin keeps shoving half eaten shit into your hands but now he watches your mouth when you eat it. “good?” he asks. yeah sure whatever dude pull the willy out if you want it sucked so bad.

han once asks “you got any plans after schedule? maybe we could hang… talk more.” ??? the unprofessional ever.

seungmin asked you one day “you ever think about what you want outside of work? like… personal stuff?” the way he looked at you when he said “personal” made it clear he was imagining you spread out and moaning someone’s name. probably his.

once when the boys were talking, jeongin turned to you and asked “you, y/n? what do you do for release?” he clearly could have said to unwind or something, and he makes that known with a cheeky raise of his eyebrows too. fucking hell.

and you can tell chan is fighting with himself sometimes.

he’ll be in the middle of a conversation with you, genuinely business shit, and then something will run across his face. a tiny frown, a quick glance away, the responsible leader part of his brain is yelling “what the fuck are you doing, she’s staff” while the rest of him is just glad you exist. glad he has you. glad there’s someone who saw him at his really stressed and still chose to help without making it weird after.

most of the time the glad part wins. he lets you closer now.

the other seven? they don’t have that conflict.

they just want to hit.

bad.

they want to know what that mouth feels like. what those hands would do if they asked nicely (or not so nicely). they want to see if their sweet little assistant would get on her knees for them too, if she’d moan their name if it cane to that.

it’s horny, selfish, and they know all of them are on the same page. chan’s always so done with them when the topic comes to this.

and oh, hyunjin, the evil shit.

he waits until changbin mentions during lunch that he’s sleeping over at chan and jeongin’s dorm tomorrow night. boys are so cute when they’re excited about their little sleepovers. like aw they planned it one day sooner. hyune just nods and says nothing.

next day, after the evening schedule wraps, hyunjin finds you alone in the hallway while you’re packing up something.

he tugs your arm, pulls you closer than necessary, and says “y/n. come over tonight.”

“to yours?”

“yeah. changbin’s gone. it’ll just be me. i need help with something. personal. you know how it is.”

he doesn’t say it outright but the implication is thick as fuck. he waited until his own roommate, his best friend, was safely out of the picture. didn’t even hint to changbin. didn’t mention it to chan. just saw his opening and took it like the selfish pretty bitch he is. it’s an asshole move, one hundred percent. but hyunjin doesn’t care right now. he wants his turn. he wants to see if you’ll help him the way you helped chan.

you stand there, heart hammering, because you know exactly what he’s asking. he doesn’t know you know.

and you’re tempted.

and that’s how you end up at their place. well, right now just his.

you’re barely two steps inside when the door clicks shut behind you and hyunjin turns around.

oh, the lighting is actually nice. this is absolutely a nice place, fits them too, looks so good and combined with the smell of men—

“i want you to suck me off.”

you choke. your eyes go wide and you cough once, hard, hand flying up to your throat. “jesus fucking christ, hyunjin.”

“what? you did it for chan. i want it too.”

the confidence is insane.

you’re not even against it, the thought has been sitting in the back of your head ever since they all started acting weird, but jesus christ the delivery.

“okay… wow. straight to it, huh?” you mumble.

“why drag it out?” he says, already walking past you toward the couch. “we both know why you’re here. you’re not stupid. i’m not stupid.” he drops onto the couch, legs spread. “you can have a glass of wine first if you want. there’s some. or water. whatever makes you comfortable. but i’m not waiting all night.”

you stand there blinking, mouth still a little open. the audacity is actually impressive. “right.”

“then sit down for a second. talk if you want. or don’t. i don’t care.“

you do sit, on the other end of the couch, legs crossed, trying to act like this is a normal conversation. you talk a little about the schedules, how tired everyone looks, how you noticed they’ve all been… different lately.

hyunjin listens, nodding once or twice, but his eyes keep dropping to your lips. he’s not subtle. he clearly gives zero fuck about your feelings and wants his cock sucked like yesterday.

he’s straining against his jeans, god, but also… there’s this… romantic tension radiating off him. or maybe it’s leaning into the sexual territory too, but it is romantic, somewhere. both of you know something is about to go down and both of you know the other knows.

after a few minutes you sigh, rubbing your temple. “okay. sure. i’ll do it.”

his whole face changes. not a big smile, he’s too cool for that, but his eyes light up. eyebrows go up. he’s visibly more excited. “yeah?”

“yeah. just… keep it between us.”

“obviously.”

fucking liar.

okay both of you know chan did not hold his fucking mouth so saying it was straight up pointless. hyunjin seems even worse at keeping secrets, you’re putting less hope into this staying a secret than you did with chan.

but you’re just doing your job, after all. he’s your boss, up to him if he keeps it.

he yanks his belt open right then right there right away, the metal clinking and it sounds hot for some reason, then pops the button on his jeans but doesn’t push them down yet. just leaves them open, the zipper halfway down, the black waistband of his underwear already visible. he spreads his legs wider, one arm draped over the back of the couch ,and looks at you.

“come here then.”

okay. wow. right. okay. you move closer, then slowly sink down on the floor. it’s humiliating, considering he’s so above you in all aspects. that’s why it’s so hot.

the second you drop to your knees between his spread thighs his face, his expression shifts into something evil. satisfied, mostly. that beautiful smile, small, smug, evil, spreads across his pretty face.

“look at you.” he mutters.

he’s so hot it’s actually fucking unfair. like so unfair. fuck your fucking chungus life. that body relaxed on the couch like he was born to be serviced. this might be the perfect way to say it, born to be serviced. shame he’s also dumb and evil and weirdly romantic.

but right now he’s just a horny boy who waited until his roommate was gone so he could have you all to himself.

you settle between his legs, hands resting on his thighs. the denim is warm under your palms. his cock is already hard, been for a while, pushing against the black fabric, the outline calling your name. the tension in the room is stroking it by itself.

hyunjin reaches down, slow, and threads his fingers through your hair. “go on then, y/n. show me what you showed channie.”

you’re here for work.

so you lean in, breath ghosting over the bulge in his underwear, and watch the way his thighs tense under your hands and that satisfied smile spreads more. like he’s so happy that he’s smiling. it’s cute, if you think about it.

you reach up slowly, fingers helping tug the jeans down his thighs. they pool around his ankles and he kicks them off lazily, leaving him in just the black boxers that are so tented.

then you, slowly, peel those down too, his cock springs out, slapping up. makes your mouth water.

completely shaven, by the way. oiled and all this morning but wouldn’t tell a soul. prepared like a whore. knew he was gonna get his dick sucked tonight and wanted it perfect.

doesn’t care about you but gives a shit about how you experience him.

you wrap your hand around the base first, feeling him up. learning how the little guy works.

you squeeze gently, feeling the signature silky skin texture of dick, of genitals in general, slide over the hardness underneath, and hyunjin lets out this soft, breathy little sound that you’ve never heard from him before. a quiet “mmh…”

you start stroking him slow as fuck, up and down the whole length, thumb swirling over the head every time you reach the top. there’s not much pre for now, his dick isn’t as desperate as chan’s was, but you can work with anything.

you can always work with anything.

you spit into your other hand, loud and wet, and wrap it around him too, using both now, slicking him up until everything’s shiny and messy and dripping down over his bare balls. a little lube would help a lot but you won’t kill the mood now by having the audacity to ask for it.

hyunjin’s head tips back against the couch. “fuck… that’s good.” he murmurs, voice angelic. “just like that… yeah.“

he’s enjoying the hell out of it.

his balls are drawn up tight already, adorable how men’s bodies work, smooth and warm, and when you drag your fingers down to cup them he lets out another one of those pretty sounds, a quiet “ahh… shit” that makes your pussy throb because who the fuck knew evil reincarnated, hwang hyunjin(he’s not even that bad you two are just dramatic about each other) could sound like that.

you keep it torturously slow, just like you did with chan. long strokes from base to tip, twisting at the head, squeezing just right so some pre oozes out.

you lean in close enough that your breath ghosts over the wet head and hyunjin’s fingers tighten in your hair. he likes the power situation he’s in.

his cock is finally leaking now, easier to work with. slick. shiny. you can feel his heartbeat in it, pulsing under your palm, so smooth and pretty because he fucking prepared for you.

“mmh. fuck, y/n… slower for a second.” he breathes. he’s so into it his cheeks are flushed, lips parted, that pretty evil face looking soft and unreal, best word for this man, while you work him.

you slow down even more, dragging your fist up inch by inch, feeling every little part of him, all the textures he has to give you.

only if changbin knew.

you squeeze a little tighter on the upstroke and he moans. his hips thrust up into your fist, chasing the feeling, you can tell he’s a good dancer just by the way he moves his hips. how he’s rolling into your hand.

he’s enjoying this so much it’s almost sweet.

you spit on him again and keep going. slow, slick strokes. both hands working him perfectly. some spit running down your wrist.

his head stays tipped back, eyes mostly closed, mouth open to let those beautiful moans slip out.

you keep stroking him slowly with both hands(one would work too but his cock is more entertaining than his cute little balls so you took that hand up too), twisting at the head every time you reach the top.

then you lean in a little closer, part your lips, and poke your tongue out.

you swirl it around the swollen head once. the moment your tongue pushed down hyunjin gasps, “ah—!” as he snaps his head down at you, pretty face twisting into this grimace of pleasure. wasn’t really ready for how fucking good it feels.

“ah… yeah… mm—” he mumbles, hips twitching up into your fist, wanting more.

slut.

you open your mouth wider, take the head between your lips and suck, starting hard already, tongue flicking fast against the sensitive underside while your hands keep working the base in tight strokes.

his fingers tighten in your hair. his eyes close. his mouth is open.

you bob your head faster, taking him deeper with every slide, cheeks hollowing on the way up so you suck him tight and wet. also leaving spit behind so it glides smoother.

you pull off for a second just to spit on him again, then dive right back down, taking him halfway, then deeper, until the head bumps the back of your throat and you swallow around him.

he gasps, and his free hand grabs the couch cushion hard. you feel another spurt of pre cum coat in your mouth. ew but also hot.

you start a brutal rhythm, fast, sloppy, wet, head bobbing, hands twisting and stroking everything you can’t fit, sucking hard every time you pull back so your lips drag over the head. everytime you take him deep your nose presses against his skin and you can smell whatever product he used mixed with that warm musky boy scent that makes your pussy ache.

you were made for men.

hyunjin is making all these soft, breathy, pretty little sounds now that he knows he can, no one else around, no reason to stay quiet. little “ah… ahh” everytime you swallow around him, moans when you twist your hands just right, little whimpers when you suck hard on the head and swirl your tongue around the slit at the same time.

his hips start rolling up to meet your mouth, shallow little thrusts. you let him, opening your throat more, taking him deeper until your eyes water and spit runs down your chin in thick strings.

you reach down with one hand and cup his balls, rolling them gently, tugging to make him moan louder,

“ah, yes, fuck. right there—”

he looks down at you the whole time, eyes barely open, making you feel things(wtf), that pretty face flushed and grimacing with every wave of pleasure. he knew you’d be this good.

a bitch to you at work, by the way.

you pull off with a disgustingly(in the hot way) wet sound, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock, then immediately lick a long stripe from his balls all the way up to the head, then kissing back down, sucking one ball into your mouth and humming around it while your hand strokes him fast, tight.

hyunjin’s back arches off the couch, a loud moan coming out of him as his thighs flex, holding him up.

you switch to the other ball, sucking gently, tongue rolling over the silky skin, then lick back up and swallow him down again in one move.

you set a sweet little pace, deepthroating him over and over, gagging softly when he hits the back of your throat, spit and pre everywhere, dripping down your chin, soaking his balls, running down your wrist.

“ahh… mmh— god yes… just like that… you’re gonna make me cum so fucking hard…” his fingers are tight in your hair, guiding you just a little, hips rolling up to fuck your mouth, kind of.

you’re so turned on it hurts.

he throws his head back, mouth open, pretty face completely twisted up as he lets every sound out. breathy moans, humiliating whimpers, everything you can imagine coming from that pretty mouth that usually just hints for you to fuck off.

you suck him like a fucking vacuum. you take him as deep as you can, relaxing your throat until the fat head pushes past a muscle ring, your nose pressed into him as you gag and choke.

hyunjin is seeing heaven.

you hold there for a second, swallowing around him, struggling to, letting your throat squeeze and milk him while your tongue works the underside as much as you can make it.

hyunjin’s hips jerk up(painful to you) and he lets out this little “ahh— fuck—!” that sounds way too pretty for how evil he usually is.

you pull back slowly, dragging your lips tight along every inch, sucking hard so his cock comes out glossy and throbbing, a string of spit and pre stretching before you dive back down, head bobbing again, gluck gluck gluck.

you gag on him on purpose sometimes, wet little chokes, makes your eyes water and spit run down your chin in rivers. everytime you do it he moans louder.

you’re doing amazing and you know it. you switch it up constantly, not keeping a pace on purpose so he won’t cum that fast, deepthroating him until your nose is buried and your throat bulges, then pulling off to focus just on the head, sucking hard and fast while your tongue flicks and swirls around the sensitive slit, lapping up every fresh bead of pre that keeps leaking out.

you spit on him again, letting it drip down his smooth shaft before you stroke it in with both hands and suck the head back into your mouth. natural talent.

hyunjin’s mouth is hanging open now, pretty face completely twisted up, one eye closed as he stares down at you.

his mouth forms this perfect little o, eyebrows furrowed. the pleasure is unbearable. the soft breathy moans turn into real loud moans.

every time you swallow him deep his voice cracks higher, prettier, more powerful, and you don’t leave him hanging.

your head bobs faster, sloppy, throat suffering around him on every downstroke while your hand twists around the base you can’t fit without pain in your throat.

you press two fingers right behind his balls, rubbing that sensitive spot, and hyunjin’s whole body jerks, mouth dropping open wider as he lets out the loudest, prettiest moan yet.

thin hot ropes of cum shoot straight down your throat. pulse after pulse. weak, kind of, not what chan had. the taste is bitter and salty and kinda gross, but you keep sucking through it, swallowing every drop because he’s hot and mean and evil and you want it.

hyunjin’s hips stutter up into your mouth, cock jerking and twitching as he keeps cumming, more and more spurts meeting your skilled tongue. his fingers are gripping your hair so tight it hurts while his balls pulse in your hand, emptying everything he’s been saving up for this.

you swallow again and again, throat working around his throbbing cock, drinking down every bitter salty spurt until he’s finally empty and oversensitive.

even then you don’t stop right away, keep sucking gently, tongue swirling softly now over the head, getting the last weak drops out while he twitches and whimpers, soft little “mmh… mmh…” sounds.

his fingers loosen in your hair, stroking through it now almost tenderly. crazy that we got here from him shoving half eaten things into your hands. what a bitch.

you finally pull off, glad for air, strings of spit and leftover cum connecting your swollen lips to his spent cock. you swallow one last time, wiping your chin with a finger.

he stares down at you, eyes blown, chest rising slowly now.

“holy… fuck.” he breathes. “you’re… actually insane at that.”

you sit back on your heels, lips shiny and puffy, wipe your spit off your chin. like you didn’t just swallow his entire load while gagging on his dick.

“told you i’d do it.”

he takes his hand from your hair to tuck his spent cock back into his boxers with those pretty fingers. he pulls his jeans up just enough to button them.

“you want me to order something? food? anything you like. or… there’s drinks in the fridge. water, juice, that wine i mentioned earlier. i can get it for you. or— fuck, you can stay a bit longer if you want. just… chill.” a little too gentle for the usual hyunjin.

your jaw aches and your panties are soaked. “tempting, but was there actually something you needed help with tonight? or did you just want your dick sucked?”

he blinks. then lets out a short, embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “…just wanted my dick sucked.”

hm. you nod, then reach up and give his thigh a comforting, very professional squeeze. “okay. then i’ll head home now. you should get some rest too.”

his face drops instantly. disappointment. those pretty eyes widen a bit, brows pulling together, mouth opening. because who the fuck is hyunjin if not the type to catch feelings the second someone drains his balls properly? he just got the best head of his life and now you’re about to leave??

“wait— already?” he looks actually… kind of lost. “you don’t have to go right now. it’s late, but… stay for a bit. we can talk or something. i’ll order food, seriously. or at least let me drive you home.”

you stand up slowly, smoothing your clothes, keeping that sweet professionalism on your face even though your legs feel a little shaky. “i know, hyunjin. but i really need to sleep. goodnight, okay? get some rest.”

he looks so fucking disappointed it’s funny.

“y/n…” he tries again, softer, romantic. “c’mon. just a little longer. i— fuck, that was really good.“

“i’m glad you liked it. but i’m going home now. sleep well.”

it hits him like ice water. as hard as the cold water was explained in titanic. you… you don’t feel the same way he does. you have no “maybe next time i’ll stay” energy coming off you or a lingering look that says you want more.

you don’t give a fuck about him.

???

this was a clear message that this was a one time service, not the start of anything. that you’re not interested in him like that. not tonight, and probably not ever.

you turn toward the door and get your shoes on before he can come up with another excuse. he stands up fast, jeans still half open, and follows you a couple steps.

so needy.

“y/n…” he starts. at the door, he’s towering over you. still radiating that post nut warmth, and for a second he looks like he really wants to kiss you. eyes dropping to your swollen lips.

you just pat his chest once, light and friendly, right over his heart. “goodnight.”

then you let yourself out the door before he can say anything else.

he’s… hurt. the dismissal? the polite squeeze on his thigh? the pat you just gave him? the way you made it crystal clear you’re not staying, not cuddling, not interested in him beyond “helping” like you helped chan?

he wants you more now. fuck.

he wants to wipe that professional little smile off your face. he wants to hear you moan his name instead of just sucking him off in silence. he wants to make you stay next time, make you beg a little, make you look at him the way you probably looked at chan that night.

(you looked at him and chan the same way when you sucked them off. unlike them, you’re actually doing this for the business)

he drops onto the couch, still smelling like spit and cum and your perfume, and stares at the ceiling.

sigh.

okay. where is his phone? on the ground. must have fallen out his pocket when he fought his pants off.(pants off. you were the reason for that. you sucked him off. wow.)

group chat with the boys it is.

hyunjin: y/n sucked me off

hyunjin: came over

hyunjin: left already

let’s quote what you two talked about before you gave him head. “yeah. just… keep it between us.” “obviously.” genuinely how men keep secrets. dearest reader, don’t trust a boy with your secrets, ever.

han: WHAT

han: ???

jeongin: bro… you waited until bin was gone??? that’s so fucking foul lmao

jeongin: but also respect

jeongin: how was it tho?? she deepthroat? swallow?

hyunjin: both

jeongin: 🤤

felix: omg what

felix: my turn when

seungmin: respect ig

minho: 😂😂😂

(he’s looking at his screen with a straight face)

chan: hyune what the fuck did you do?

changbin just seen the messages.

what’s currently happening is changbin and chan are looking at each other. chan has his eyes about to fall out of his head. changbin has his little mouth open. the shock in the air.

then jeongin comes out of his room in just boxers again, phone in hand, laughing at the two.

changbin finally closes his mouth, cheeks pink. “he didn’t even tell me he was inviting her over. that’s so mean.”

“he’s an asshole for not saying anything.” chan mutters.

and hyunjin is pissed you left so easily. pissed you didn’t stay. pissed you made it feel like just another task.

but mostly he’s horny again.

the next day, the moment you step into the practice floor, you fucking know they know.

because they’re all… calm. weirdly, suspiciously calm.

eight grown men who definitely know you sucked two of their dicks.

hyunjin is sitting against a mirror, stretching his arms overhead. when he sees you come in he lifts one hand in a cute little wave.

“morning, y/n.” the asshole.

you nod back, polite as ever. “morning.”

chan is checking something on some tablet, but when you hand him something he asked for yesterday, he looks up at you.

“thanks. you sleep okay?”

you smile. “yeah, i did. you?”

“better than usual.” then goes back to his tablet.

changbin smiles at you and bows a lil. han gives you a little “woah, you’re early today” giving you space like a respectful grown man. it’s almost scarier than when he was all over your lap. felix nods once with a small, friendly smile. jeongin looks a bit shy, smiling at you with that beautiful mouth. minho stays cool, as usual. you admire how mature he is. seungmin, mr nonchalant, takes his stuff with a neutral “thanks” y’know, the usual.

and… the day’s normal. it’s fucking eerie. “y/n, towel please.” “y/n, can you check my phone?” y/n this, y/n that.

how are you not fired yet? you had two of their dicks in your mouth. two.

by the time the day ends at 11pm everyone is exhausted. god, you’d give them a break if you could. but for now, all you can do is make their days easier.

they thank you one by one as they head out, eye contact, small nods. manly. they’re cute.

cute on purpose. these are actors.

chan squeezes your shoulder gently before he leaves. “good work today. go home and sleep.” and hyunjin smiles at you with a raise of his brows.

that’s about all the extra shit that happened. nothing else, for now.

you finally make it back to your place close to midnight, feet aching, brain dead, full of thoughts. surprisingly, even though you get anxious easily, you know you can’t come off wrong from this situation, so you don’t feel bad.

the boys have whole careers at stake doing this, not you. so you’re fine. horny. feel powerful.

you can feel how every single one of them is now waiting, patient and polite(on the surface, just again, they were trained to act), to see what happens next.

tomorrow is going to be another long day.

cuz like… every single one of them is trying, really trying, to stay professional. they’re idols, after all. contracts, image, cameras everywhere.

but they also just really, really want to get some.

that comes out on different levels, though. and they control it on different levels too.

like, chan is relatively good at it, even though he already got a taste. he just… wants it again, that’s the case.

he’s doing the best job at pretending nothing changed, but every time you lean close to give him something or adjust his collar he remembers your mouth stretched around him and his throat goes tight.

he’s glad he has you, genuinely glad, but the guilt is eating at him. conflict looks good on him.

minho is way too mature to act on his desire. i mean, when the time feels right he’ll ask, he thinks. or maybe he won’t ask at all. maybe he’ll just pull you into his lap one day and see what happens. for now he sits, and sees.

changbin feels a little betrayed that hyunjin didn’t tell him, but mostly he feels this warm, nervous want. he’s scared to ask. terrified, actually. so he just stays close, hoping you’ll notice how great he is.

“does your back hurt carrying all our stuff? you can lean on me if you want…” NOT. SUBTLE. BUDDY.

hyunjin, fucking hell, hyunjin. he’s noticeably nicer to you. much more fair because boys are only nice to girls who they would fuck. and hyunjin, as we know, wants that cookie. bad.

well, he doesn’t like you, he likes your mouth. big difference.

han wants to ask so bad. he wants to know if you’d bounce on his dick the way you bounced him on your lap. but even he has enough brain cells to know blurting “can you suck me off too?” would be insane. so he just keeps touching, keeps hoping you’ll offer like you did for the others. embarrassiiiing.

felix is praying. like, literally. plus, he doesn’t know how he should reach out, or if he even should. he’s waiting for the right moment, playing it cool while internally begging whatever higher power exists to let him have a turn. plus he has more serious mental tortures than this now, he wants pussy but it’s not his main goal now.

oh, seungmin notices when hyunjin is nicer to you. he notices when chan watches you longer or wants you around for a longer time.

the thought of actually asking you “hey y/n, can you suck me off like you did for the others?” makes him want to throw up from nerves. he’s too shy.

jeongin, with the boys, aka his comfort zone, he’s all cheeky, clapping arms and making gross jokes and whatever thing only boys do and is so cute actually. but the second he’s alone with you, he gets shy. his cheeks go pink when he has to ask you for something simple.

he keeps replaying the night you saw him in just boxers, god, why wasn’t he interested in you(the services your mouth has) then?

everytime he opens his mouth to say something flirty it dies in his throat and he ends up mumbling “thanks, y/n…” and he scurries away to hide behind minho.

he’s your boss. he’s bigger than you in any possible situation. but right now he feels small and stupid and so fucking horny he could cry. he likes you. that makes asking for head feel impossible!

and through the next days, you really clearly begin to see them lose their professionalism. well, not completely lose it, they’re not that piss brained, but they’re clearly doing shit they can get castrated for if caught.

but they trust you though not to spill anything.

chan talks with you during lunch one day. like, the two of you separate from other people. it’s nice, he actually opens up more, tells you about a song he’s writing that’s too personal(boundaries daddy, boundaries), asks what you think. his hand brushes your lower back when he thanks you. his dick is hard the entire conversation. he wants your mouth again so fucking bad but he’s also starting to want the conversations. duality of man.

jeongin tries to talk to you twice and both times chickens out. first time he opens his mouth, says “y/n, can i—” then turns bright red and pretends he needed water. second time he just blurts “hi hey hello” and immediately wants to die.

minho sits next to you on a couch while you’re on your laptop. doesn’t say much, just lives around next to you. when the boys start shouting at each other across the room he laughs loud with them. it’s cute. he has a beautiful smile.

seungmin gives you the usual quiet “hi” when you hand him something. later you overhear him making every one of them laugh their fucking asses off. around you? radio silence. weird, how he works.

the others behave. mostly. nothing else weird happened, but still, their brains are 90% cum and 10% “what if she sucks me off next.”

hyunjin is the best at the whole nothing happened game. he’s a professional little actor when he wants to be. during morning rehearsal he barks “y/n, my water” in the exact same pissy tone as always, but then he actually throws a “thanks” your way?? in this economy??

he wants to drag you into a storage closet or something and make you stay this time, but he’s too good at pretending. he just gets a little nicer, holding a door for you once, even. holy shit.

changbin does try though. again, unprofessional, and he knows that, and he follows you down the hallway again anyway.

“y/n, do you like strawberries? i saw this new cafe that does strawberry milk… not that i’m asking you out or anything, just… if you ever want one after schedule…” he trails off, cheeks pink, then quickly adds “or i can just bring you one here. or whatever.”

when hyunjin walks past and gives you a tiny nod changbin wants to go after him and choke the guy.

usually, the days just blur together, and you’re thrilled to see how they’re going to reach out next.

one afternoon hyunjin “accidentally” drops his towel right in front of you and when you bend down to pick it up he mutters “keep it” like it’s a gift instead of his sweaty ass towel. chan sees it and gives hyunjin the world’s most disappointed dad look(paired with a boyish little scoff, wow chan you almost looked mature for a second) but then later pulls you aside himself, asking if you want to go over some things with him after practice “just the two of us, no pressure.” you say sure and he’s visibly nervous.

what a time to be employed.

yeah, you and chan do start building something, even if it’s not consciously built.

he pulls you aside more during work, technically always asking about work related things but really it’s just hanging out. he needs something only you seem to give him.

he wants that cookie so fucking bad.

mostly the relief it gives. the way your mouth turned his brain off for ten beautiful minutes and let him breathe like a normal twenty something guy instead of the guy carrying eight careers on his back.

one afternoon after a killer dance practice he’s drenched in sweat that you so want to lick off, chest heaving, and he waves the others off. “i’ll stay a bit longer. y/n, can you help me go over the new formation notes?”

the boys leave, shooting looks, but nobody says shit.

it’s just you and chan in the empty practice room, mirrors reflecting you two from every angle.

he sits on the floor against the wall, legs stretched out, and pats the spot next to him. you sit. he smells like humans(in the good way) and that expensive cologne and pure man.

you go over the notes but after ten minutes the papers are forgotten on the floor between you.

“you know… that night.” he starts, staring at the mirror instead of you. “it helped more than i thought it would. not just the… physical part. having someone who doesn’t expect anything back. who just helps.” he rubs the back of his neck, cringe ass but it actually means a lot, coming from him. “i keep thinking about it. it was nice. you’re nice to have around, y/n.”

“thank you. really, means a lot that i can help.”

now you’re professional. you don’t tell him what you feel on a deeper level, just the surface shit. noncommittal.

he wants the relief again so bad he can taste it. he wants to feel your throat squeeze around him he wants to cum so hard he forgets the comeback schedule for five whole minutes.

but he doesn’t ask. he’s really trying to keep himself in line because he has shit to focus on. he has work, for fuck’s sake.

it’s… a fucking joke. their careers, their contracts, their reputations, all of it could go up in flames if one wrong person finds out, but right now every single one of them is thinking with the head between their legs instead of the one on their shoulders.

chan feels the most responsibility, but he’s still using every charm trick in the book. just again, they were trained to charm people, and he’s using that.

mr leader knows exactly what he’s doing when he pulls you into quiet corners “just to talk.” when his voice gets a little softer, a little slower. what a charmer.

even though he’s aware of all the risks, he still does it.

because he wants the relief so bad. he wants your mouth again. he wants the way you make the torture in his head stop.

so he charms you gently, carefully, building whatever this is. he feels bad about it. but not bad enough to stop, because it’s… it’s like an addiction. it is an addiction, the way addicts know the drug is bad for them but they’re already reaching for the next dose because their body got to know it and now needs it. that’s what’s happening, basically.

blowjob can NOT be this good.

(it can. you really are a talent at giving them, y/n)

the others don’t feel anything at all. they just want to get some action. plain and simple.

like, hyunjin is nicer???(it’s working. you can feel it.) han asks questions that feel personal??? minho uses that idol trained eye contact that makes you feel like the only girl in the room even when there are twenty staff members running around??? seungmin lets you go ahead of him??? felix giggles at everything you say??? jeongin’s eyes are always on you whatever you’re doing??? changbin follows you around all day???

it’s all so fucking unprofessional it’s almost impressive.

these men have everything to lose.

but they’re still thinking with their dicks.

they know one leaked rumor could end everything. but the thought of your mouth, your hands, some relief, pussy, makes their heads turn.

they linger. they find excuses. it’s stupid.

but they’re trained to charm.

they’re trained to get what they want.

and right now what they want more than anything is you getting them off. men can really want a thought when they already settled into it in their heads.

and work is just so much, so stressing, that chan just neeeeds you at their place again!

so you go.

it’s late. jeongin’s already asleep in his room. the only light is the soft glow from chan’s laptop on the desk and the small lamp beside his bed. you’re both sitting on the edge of his bed, laptops open, going over shit.

but the air is thick.

chan has been restless the entire evening, shifting his weight, rubbing the back of his neck, whatnot. you can feel the tension coming off him.

finally, after ten straight minutes of him staring at the same line on the screen without typing anything, he closes his laptop with a quiet click.

“y/n.”

you look up.

he takes a rough breath, eyes flicking away for a second before they come back to you. visibly fighting with himself. “i… fuck. this is hard to ask. i know we said one time. but tonight… i… i think i really need another… one. if you’d be willing to… do that again. for me.”

you immediately close your laptop, set it aside, slide off the bed, dropping to your knees between his spread thighs without a word.

holy shit.

his eyes actually widen.

wow.

how did he get his lucky?

“thank you.” he says immediately, shakily taking the laptop off his lap. “i— i appreciate this more than i can say right now. seriously. you don’t know how much.”

you smile up at him, hands resting on his thick thighs. “i got you.”

your palms slide up his thighs, feeling the hard muscle tense under the thin sweatpants. you press your thumbs into the seam where his legs meet his hips, rubbing small circles, feeling him under the fabric. the human. the man.

chan’s breath hitches, watching you.

you’re an angel. sent to him personally from the clouds of heaven.

you lean in and press a soft, open mouthed kiss to the inside of his left thigh, right above the knee, then another a little higher.

chan’s fingers twitch against his legs.

you move to the right thigh, repeating the same kisses, working your way up inch by inch while your hands keep rubbing soothing patterns on the outside of his thighs.

when you reach the crease where his leg meets his groin you pause, breathing warm air through the fabric right over the growing bulge. you can already see the luring outline forming, starting to push against the (disgustingly expensive, but he can afford it so whatever) material.

“fuck… y/n…”

you take a soft breath, then mouth gently along the length of him through the sweatpants, lips parted, tongue pressing on the fabric so he can feel what’s about to come.

you trace the entire shape of him, base to tip, slow and sensual, feeling him thicken and harden under your mouth until the fabric is stretched.

this is the hottest thing anyone has ever done to him.

your hands slide higher, fingers hooking into the waistband. you kiss the spot right above the waistband, then drag your tongue in a slow, wet stripe up the center of his abs over his shirt. the muscle jumps.

chan’s head tips back slightly, throat working as he swallows hard. fucking hell, this is unreal. he’s going to bust now.

your tug the pants down reeeaaal slow, letting the fabric move on his skin. letting him feel he’s alive. he lifts his hips to help, breath catching when the cool air hits him.

his boxers come next, you peel them down carefully, watching his cock come free.

he’s manscaped now. oh, hello. completely. smooth skin all around the base, not a single hair left, balls silky and bare because he took the time to do this just in case you ended up here again.

the sight makes your mouth water. the intent makes your mouth water. his cock looks even bigger without the hair. it twitches the second your eyes land on it, bobbing once like it knows you’re looking. hi to you too.

you wrap one hand around the base first, gentle, feeling the warmth of him, the way the smooth skin slides over the hardness underneath. chan lets out a low, shaky exhale through his nose, thighs tensing under your palm. you give him one slow stroke from root to tip, thumb pressing lightly right under the head(where you learned he’s most sensitive. that’s intimate.) his cock jumps in your grip, a thick drop of pre leaking out and sliding down the shaft, making your work easier.

god, this man is pouring pre compared to what you had to work with on hyunjin. but you’re not complaining about either.

“fuck…” he mutters, one hand coming down to hold on the back of your head.

you smile up at him, then look back down to lean in closer, breath ghosting over him, and drag your tongue in one long stripe from the base all the way up to the head.

chan’s whole body shudders.

you swirl your tongue around the head once, tasting the saltiness, then pull back to watch his reaction.

his cock twitches again, harder this time, another bead of pre pushing out right where your tongue just was.

you lean back in and lick it off slowly, dragging the tip of your tongue over the slit, pressing hard enough to make him hiss softly between his teeth.

one hand strokes him long while the other cups his smooth balls, rolling them gently in your palm, feeling how warm and heavy they are, how they tighten up everytime you lick over the head. you tug lightly on his sack, making his hips twitch up, and chan groans, fingers flexing in your hair.

“thank you… fuck, thank you.”

you’re welcome, daddy.

you lick him again, slower this time, tracing every vein with the tip of your tongue, feeling the way his cock jumps and leaks for you with every pass. you pull him down slightly with your hand so you can drag your tongue along the sensitive underside, right where the head meets the shaft, and chan almost leans forward from the pleasure. this is way better than fucking his first in the shower.

his cock is fully hard now, standing thick and flushed and glossy with your spit and his pre, the shaved skin making every little reaction so much more visible. the way it throbs, the way the head swells darker every time you swirl your tongue around it, the way his balls draw up tighter in your hand because they’re already getting close.

you keep stroking him with a slow, sensual rhythm, twisting your wrist just right at the top, thumb pressing into the slit to spread the fresh pre around while your tongue follows right behind, licking and teasing and tasting.

chan’s breathing is getting heavier, chest rising and falling under his shirt. he’s already relieved.

you pull his skin down again, licking slow circles around the head, then take just the tip into your mouth, sucking softly while your hand keeps stroking the rest of him, tight.

chan lets out this low groan, head tipping back, the sound vibrating through his whole hot body.

you look up at him from between his thick thighs and jesus fucking christ he’s hot.

his chest is rising and falling under his (white)shirt, sweat starting to bead at his hairline because he’s running so fucking warm. his cock literally radiating warmth in your hand. it’s been dying for this. for your touch again.

he reaches down to pull his shirt off.

chan. shirtless.

skin and pure muscle right in front of your face. his abs and pecs flex when he tosses the fabric aside, a light layer of sweat already making him glow under the lamp. oh that’s dada. big manly body, veins standing out on his arms, bruises from all the treatments he gets, cupping and allat, that deep v line pointing straight to his smooth shaved cock. no need to point here you come.

you open your mouth wide, tongue flat, and take him in deep right from the start. the head slides over your tongue, thick and hot and salty, unpleasant but also hot, and you don’t stop until your nose is buried in that smooth shaved skin at his base.

he actually has to whip his head up.

you hold him there for a second, swallowing hard, letting your throat work him while your nose presses into his warm skin.

you pull back slowly, lips dragging along every thick inch, sucking hard so your cheeks hollow. you don’t pull off tho. you bob your head instead, taking him to the back of your throat over and over, gagging. spit runs down your chin. everytime you push down your throat squeezes around the head and chan’s hips twitch up.

“thank you, y/n… god thank you…”

you look up at him while you suck, eyes watering, lips formed obscenely around his shaft, and the eye contact makes him cry out. jeongin sleeping next room be damned.

he’s so hot like this. you can see how much he wants this, how bad he’s been thinking about your mouth since last time. that’s also told by the way his cock leaks constantly now, just again, brutal compared to what hyunjin gave you, thick salty pre coating your tongue and sliding down your throat every time you take him. he’s too hot for you to mind the taste.

you pull off with a wet squelch, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock, and spit on him, then stroke your fingers up and down his slick shaft while you suck just the head hard. your tongue swirls around the sensitive underside, flicking right where it meets the head, and chan’s whole body jerks.

“ah, fuck— right there—”

you take him back down, nose to skin, and start bobbing faster, head moving, gluck gluck on him. spit is everywhere, running down your chin, dripping off your jaw, soaking his smooth balls and thighs.

you reach up with one hand and roll his balls gently, tugging them down to make him hiss then moan. cock jumps hard in your mouth at that, another spurt of pre arriving on your tongue. you like how much he gives you.

the attraction between you two is insane. you can feel how much he wants you, how grateful he is, how he’s truly living in this moment. and you’re so fucking attracted to him it hurts. it’s mutual.

you suck harder. deeper. sloppier. you take him all the way every time, throat working around him, nose pressed to him while your tongue licks the underside. you gag on purpose, letting your throat spasm around the head, and chan groans loud and long, head falling back.

he’s actually letting out little moans now between the loud hisses. you can feel how close he is, how bad he wants to cum.

you look up again and lock eyes with him while your lips are stretched around the base of his cock, throat full, spit dripping down your chin, and the pure animal attraction in his gaze makes your stomach flip.

he’s so fucking grateful and so fucking turned on he doesn’t know what to do with it.

you’re doing it so fucking well. you’re making him feel so good.

his hips snap up. his thick cock drives straight into your throat with a desperate thrust. the head punches past the ring of muscle in there and buries itself deep, stretching your throat wide open.

you gag hard around him, throat convulsing, eyes watering instantly as spit explodes out the corners of your mouth and you instinctively try to pull back.

but oh, look at that, he’s holding your head in place.

“fuck, sorry.” he moans, but his hips do come up again, slower this time but still greedy, pushing another inch deeper.

he starts thrusting.

animal, hungry snaps of his hips that force his thick cock in and out of your face. every thrust makes a wet, obscene ack sound as your throat bulges around him. spit flies everywhere, splattering onto his balls, running down your neck.

his big hand tightens in your hair, gripping hard to hold you right where he needs you. his other hand braces on the bed behind him so he can fuck your mouth deeper. his abs are clenched and moving, v line flexing every time he drives up, sweat sliding down the lines and dips of his muscles.

he’s whining and moaning and groaning for you. holy fuck you might die but he’s hot.

tears spill down your cheeks, mixing with the spit, but you keep your eyes locked on him the whole time.

fuck, he looks... angelic. naked, sweaty, mouth open, eyes dumb as he watches his thick cock disappear between your lips over and over. sometimes head tipping back for a second before he looks back down.

he starts really pounding.

deep, brutal thrusts that force his cock all the way down until his balls smack wetly against your chin.

spit bubbles out around the sides of your stretched lips, dripping in long strings onto the floor. it’ll dry, no big deal.

you take it. you want it. even when your eyes are streaming tears and your gag reflex keeps trying to fight back and it hurts both your throat and stomach, you relax your throat as much as you can and let him ruin it. your nails dig into his thighs, holding on for dear life.

you can feel how close he is. the way his thighs shake around your head. the way his abs clench harder. the way his body moves.

he fucks your face faster, hips snapping up desperately, using your mouth like a toy. “y/n— i’m— fuck— i’m gonna— ahh—”

one last deep, brutal thrust, cock buried to the hilt, your nose smashed against his smooth skin, throat stretched wide around him, and he starts cumming with a long, wild groan.

you gag around his length, cum and spit forcing its way back up around his cock because there’s just too much. it leaks out the corners of your stretched lips, running down your chin, white and disgusting, running down your neck while he keeps pumping cum into you.

chan’s whole body is shaking, groaning as he empties himself.

“fuck— yes— good girl, yeah.”

okay suddenly it doesn’t hurt.

who are you kidding it hurts so much.

some of it comes back up, mixing with all the spit, making everything disgusting, your nails still dug into his thighs as you throw his cum up around him.

when the last weak spurt finally dribbles onto your tongue, chan slumps back against the bed, chest heaving, cock still deep in your throat.

you slowly pull off, coughing and gasping for air, strings of cum and spit and lowk stomach acid connecting your swollen lips to his cock. you have to spit out what’s left in your mouth, really wouldn’t be able to take that down now, then wipe your chin with the back of your hand, smearing it across your skin, breathing loud.

chan reaches down immediately, thumb brushing your wet cheek. “fuck, y/n, i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to be that rough. you okay?”

you look up at him, lips puffy, face messy, and nod. it hurts. “i’m fine. i wanted it.” you sound so bad.

he lets out a shaky breath. wow. “thank you.”

“anytime, chan.”

…

the air changes from the eye contact alone.

…is this really going to happen?

your heart starts hammering so loud you can hear it in your ears. you can see the exact moment the thought crosses his mind.

his eyes drop to your mouth again, then lower, tracing the mess on your chin, the way your chest is heaving. his hand, still in your hair, flexes in it.

he shouldn’t.

he knows he shouldn’t.

you’re his assistant. this already crossed multiple lines two times now.

but the way he’s looking at you says he wants to cross every single one of them tonight.

is this really going to happen?

is he really about to cross that line?

fuck it.

he leans down, and kisses you.

line crossed.

it’s deep, hungry, and shockingly soft at first. his lips are warm, so big, so manly. then it deepens. his mouth opens in time with yours, tongue slides against yours, slow, wet, making you shiver.

he murmurs a “come here.” and his hands slide under your arms, lifting you up towards him.

you climb up his body, knees sinking into the bed on either side of his hips, and he leans back until he’s lying flat, pulling you down on top of him so your chest presses against his bare, sweaty one.

his hands immediately find your ass.

big, warm palms cupping you fully, fingers digging in. he squeezes, he’s been dying to know what you feel like there.

a satisfied groan escapes him when he realizes how perfect you fit in his hands.

“fuck…” he breathes against your mouth, kissing you again, slower this time but just as deep and wet and disgusting, tongue licking into you. he knows you taste like this because he was in your mouth. maybe he’ll get to experience your mouth purely one day too. his hips roll up, searching for you(so cute), poking the head of his thickening cock against your lower stomach.

he wants it so bad.

he wants to be completely naked under you while you stay fully clothed.

he wants to feel every inch of your body pressed against his bare skin, your clothes rubbing against his cock, your hands on his chest while he lies there exposed and desperate. he wants to watch you live on the line between professional and the girl who just swallowed his load. he wants your weight on him, your ass in his hands, your mouth on his again while he’s completely vulnerable underneath you.

there is no more “fuck i know i shouldn’t” both of you are completely in it now. both of you have accepted that this is happening, even though you don’t exactly know where it’ll end up. but it’s happening. and it feels so fucking good.

and god, the way he’s sucking on your bottom lip, biting it gently, then licking into your mouth again with these low groans and moans? irresistible.

your bodies are pressed together so tight it’s… it’s the most intimate you’ve been with this man and you’ve literally had his dick down your throat twice. his bare chest is sweaty, hot under your shirt, nipples hard little points, the little guys basically looking for you as you’re holding yourself up above him.

he breaks the kiss with a wet pop and immediately latches onto your neck.

“fuck…” you whisper, head tilting to the side.

his lips are warm and big and perfect on him and for you, sucking marks you’ll have to cover tomorrow.

are you really letting your boss do this?

yeah, no doubt. it’s too addictive to stop.

he keeps going, sucking a bruise right where your neck meets your shoulder, then just softly sucking at it some more.

“mmh… you taste so good.” mr unprofessional mutters into your skin, sucking another mark. his hands squeeze your ass harder, fingers sinking into the soft flesh, kneading it, pleasuring his little man mind.

he takes the two big handfuls and pulls your cheeks apart, spreading you wide even through your pants. you can feel the stretch. you can feel the fabric of your underwear pulling against your asshole, the cool air hitting the sensitive little ring for a split second before his hands push you back together. he does it again, harder, pulling your ass open so wide that the seam of your pants digs right against your clit and you actually feel your hole stretch a tiny bit, that weird, dirty little tug that makes your whole pussy clench hard.

you cry out.

high and needy and shocked at how good it feels. your hips jerk down against his cock on instinct, grinding, god, what a good girl you are, and chan exhales into your neck with a sound.

because oh… you like that?

he does it again, slower, pulling your ass cheeks so far apart you feel your asshole stretch open just a little more, tells you everything. he’s testing. he’s curious. he’s so fucking turned on by the idea that his sweet little assistant likes having her ass played with that he can’t help himself.

he keeps kneading, keeps spreading, imagining what it would feel like without clothes.

every time he pulls hard you feel that delicious, dirty stretch, the way your asshole flutters and it’s all for your boss.

you’re whimpering into his shoulder now, face buried in his neck, hips rolling around to bear with the feeling.

chan might actually marry you.

he’s so hard again it has to hurt. his cock is leaking between you, you can feel the wet spot on your pants from it, the head of his dick catching right against your mound when he rolls his hips up to meet you.

he pulls your ass apart again, really hard this time, thumbs spreading you so wide you swear you can feel the cool air in your actual hole for a second.

“ah, fuck—” you cry out.

that makes his cock jump against you. so sweet, the way it reacts to your voice.

he spreads you wide, mouth still sucking marks into your neck, holds you open for a long second, then lets your cheeks snap back together before doing it all over again. every pull makes your asshole stretch and flutter, every squeeze makes your pussy clench and leak into your panties. you’re so wet it’s embarrassing.

you shift, you can’t even decide who’s more unprofessional now, you or him, because you do that so your clit can be the part where his cock is grinding to.

holy fuck.

his breathing gets hotter, humanly intimate, hot puffs against your neck. his cock is sliding between your folds now through two layers of clothes.

he pulls your ass open one more time, extra slow, extra wide, thumbs pressing right next to your hole.

he’s thinking about something.

you can feel the way your asshole stretches, the little ring of muscle pulling, and the pleasure of it makes your eyes roll back for a second. you cry out again, louder, hips stuttering down hard against his cock.

one of his hands shifts. his pointer finger slides down the crease of your ass, pressing over your pants, right against that stretched little hole. rubs slow circles over it, feeling the way your asshole flutters under the fabric every time he presses down.

the cheeky little shit.

and he keeps kissing your neck, sucking marks, grinding his cock up against your clothed pussy while his finger teases your asshole over your clothes. and here you thought he was vanilla.

oh, right, yeah, you. you’re shaking on top of him now, whimpering, grinding down desperately while his finger keeps pushing your hole.

he’s so hot under you. so fucking big and warm and hard and grateful and greedy all at once. his other hand is still kneading the other cheek, spreading it open so his finger can keep playing with your asshole. his mouth is still on your neck, sucking and licking and biting, leaving himself behind.

it feels so fucking good.

deep down, you needed this almost just as much as he needs your blowjobs. you’re stressed too, well, not carrying your whole group on your back like he does, but no matter how deep the water is if someone’s drowning.

point is, you’ve been pent up too.

and you really needed this tension now.

but… okay, you do need it, but how will it affect your career? you’re building a life for yourself still. you’re so young, and if you fumble this chance to grow yourself now…

fuck. fine.

“chan, wait.” you stammer, breathless. your hands push lightly at his chest, feeling the sweaty muscle underneath your palms. “we… we shouldn’t—”

“c’mon…”

it’s dripping with everything he’s not saying out loud, how bad he wants you, how good you feel on top of him, how he’s been thinking about this since the first time you dropped to your knees.

his finger presses a little firmer into your asshole, and his other hand squeezes your ass harder, pulling you down so his cock grinds up against your soaked pussy again.

your breath catches. for one stupid, weak second you almost give in. he feels so fucking good under you, and…

“just a little more. feels too good to stop now.” he mutters into your neck. it tickles. it’s hot. it’s inviting.

fuck. he’s so convincing.

no.

you’re gonna be professional(bit late for that innit) even if he’s not.

you sit up straighter, hands still on his chest, and shake your head even though your body is screaming at you to keep going.

chan freezes under you. his hands stay on your ass for a second longer before they finally slide away, and he lets you go.

he’s panting under you, chest heaving, sweat glistening on his abs, cock still rock hard and ready to go against his stomach.

for a moment he just stares at you, fighting the ugre to grab you and pull you back down. then reality seems to hit him. his mucsles relax a little. he runs a hand over his face, exhaling through his nose.

“yeah.” he mutters. “you’re right. fuck.”

he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing, and closes his eyes. trying to pull himself the fuck together. when he opens them again there’s a mix of frustration and something like respect, maybe even a little shame.

“i’m sorry.” he says quietly, still panting. “i got carried away. you’re… you’re much smarter than me right now.”

the tension is unfinished, but maybe it’s meant to be. (it’s not. you two are MEANT to fuck, you two basically have been created for each other, just sadly, both of you value your careers)

“thank you.” he says quietly. “for stopping me. and… for everything else tonight. i mean it.”

you look beautiful, to him. straddling him, panting, neck covered in his marks. he wants you.

“it’s okay, chan. we’re good.”

you take a breath. okay. you climb off him carefully, legs not stable at all, and sit down on the edge of the bed next to him. he sits up, reaches over and grabs the blanket from the foot of the bed, throwing it over his lap to cover his still hard cock and those smooth thighs. the fabric tents obviously, but at least it’s something.

for a long moment, neither of you says anything.

then you look at each other.

then you smile.

then you laugh.

not on purpose. really do laugh, you couldn’t stop it even if you tried to.

you can both feel it, this human understanding in the air between you two. this is so going to happen again. not tonight, but soon. the tension isn’t gone. it’s just paused. not even paused, just resisted, for fuck’s sake. both of you get this.

you clear your throat, trying to sound normal. “uh… do we have anything else to work on? the schedule tomorrow or—”

“no. go home, y/n. you need to rest.” he pauses, then adds with a small smile “i’ll tell management to give you the day off tomorrow if you want it. you’ve earned it. more than earned it.”

“i won’t take it. you know i won’t.”

“yeah. i know.” he reaches over and gives your knee a gentle squeeze, but soon pulls his hand back. he wanted to keep it there longer. “but seriously. go sleep. i’ll see you in the morning.”

you stand up slowly, legs still shaky, and fix your clothes. your neck tickles where he sucked those pretty marks, your panties are soaked, and your lips feel puffy.

chan watches you the whole time, blanket still over his lap, eyes… fucking shining.

“goodnight, chan.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

you nod, pack your bag in like three fucking moves, and slip out of the room as quietly as you can.

jeongin’s door is still closed. good.

your neck is going to be a nightmare to cover tomorrow. your pussy is still throbbing. and you can still feel this thing between the two of you. it’s so… raw.

inevitable, really.

so it’s only natural that the next day’s gonna be torture too.

okay, it’s not torture anymore. when you freshly started working for them, it really was, but now even though you do have the perfect reasons to call it torture, really, you like it. you like the push and pull. cat and mouse game that you can feel, you just don’t know if they know you feel.

you walk into the building in the morning with a high neck shirt and enough concealer to paint a house. chan did a great work on your neck. purple and red marks all over the side of your throat where he sucked.

hot.

every time you swallow it still hurts from how deep he fucked your face last night.

you’re exhausted, horny, and professional as always.

now though, the guys don’t know about last night. hyunjin thinks he’s the latest conquest. chan is keeping his mouth shut for once.

so the energy is… weird.

and they’re too busy to notice you’re marked.

“morning, y/n.” that’s hyunjin. not suspecting a single thing, which is good for his ego, actually.

you nod and keep moving.

chan’s trying so hard to act normal it’s almost funny. when you hand him his drink he takes it with a quiet “thanks” (remember that at the very start of this he wouldn’t even look at you, not alone grunt a thanks out?) and his eyes flick to your high collar, then away.

you can see the guilt(not about what he did to your neck, about what he did to his career) and the horniness mixing in his expression.

the memory of his mouth on your neck, his hands spreading your ass, his cock leaking against your clothed pussy.

he clears his throat and goes back to his laptop, but his eyes are obviously kept there with force. you just noticed how cute his mouth is.

minho? acts the same as usual. he’s so professional that you couldn’t even tell he wants his cute little assistant to suck him the fuck off.

changbin finds you on the hallway again. babe, go back to work. “you look a little tired today.” he says. “did you sleep okay?” boi just say you want to hit.

he has no idea you spent half the night with chan’s tongue in your mouth and his finger teasing your asshole and it’s an amazing feeling. you just smile and say you’re fine.

han is also normal. why wouldn’t he be, he doesn’t know of the nasty shit you do.

felix comes at you with the “you smell nice today. new perfume?” no baby it’s your best friend’s body’s natural smell and cum that you’re kind of nasty for not washing off but we’re not shaming anyone here. anyways, you shake your head. he smiles, his prettiest on purpose, convinced he’s gonna tap that one day.

seungmin, not much to say either. looks up at you only when you talk to him first. acting aaaaall nonchalant, we know you want some, minnie.

jeongin manages to talk to you with proper sentences this time!! “you okay? you look like you got attacked by a vacuum or something. long night?”

your heart jumps, does he know?, but he’s just teasing. he has no idea how right he is. how on point he was with the vacuum, while really he just meant your hair being a little messy, not the actual suction your neck endured.

during afternoon practice chan pulls you aside for two seconds in the hallway when no one’s looking.

“you okay?” he asks, eyes flicking to your covered neck. “i didn’t… go too far last night?”

you shake your head, smiling(your pussy clenches at the memory of his thumbs spreading your ass). “i’m fine. really.”

he nods, looks away, looks back, then reaches up and gently adjusts your collar.

the tension is insane.

he wants to kiss you again. you can see it in his eyes. he wants to drag you into the nearest room and finish what you started.

but he doesn’t. he just drops his hand and steps back.

“good. go rest when you can.” he says. then he walks back, holding the door open for you.

your panties have been uncomfortable all day from how wet you stayed thinking about his hands.

the sexual tension with him is unbearable now. every day, every time you’re alone for even thirty seconds it wakes up again. the restraint is killing him, and it’s… well, it’s not killing you.

just again, you’re here for work. you have no reason in the world to worry.

he was going to text you hundreds of times. how he couldn’t stop thinking about how you felt on top of him, dumb, vulnerable shit like this, but he stopped himself. unprofessional.

hyunjin is a close second, and he’s getting impatient.

he wants his second round so badly it’s fucking funny. hilarious. you’re slapping your thigh bending over laughing the second you get home.

he starts finding excuses to be alone with you, asking you to help with this, help with that, saying “you owe me another visit sometime” it all tells you he’s dying for it. he wants to feel your throat again.

the fact that you’re keeping him at arm’s length is only making him want it more.

they’re just boys. that’s the thing.

biologically they’re built like fucking animals once their dicks get hard. testosterone floods the system, logical thinking takes a backseat, dopamine and vasopressin are flooding their dumb little brains.

suddenly the logical, professional brain that knows you’re staff and this is dangerous to their lives gets completely overridden by the part that just wants to fuck and claim and cum. it’s not even their fault, millions of years of evolution made sure that this happens.

that’s why they’re moving, circling like this. why chan can’t stop touching you when no one’s looking. why hyunjin gets pissy and horny every time you stop looking at him. why the rest of them keep finding excuses to be near you, eyes lingering on your mouth, your neck, your ass.

now that we’re at asses, fun fact, the reason why we’re so attracted to them is brutally biological. same with breasts. big tits? signals good milk production for babies. fat ass? means wide hips for carrying and birthing. smooth skin, soft curves, the way you smell when you’re turned on, their brains see it and their bodies don’t care that you’re their assistant. they just want. they want to touch, to taste, to fuck, to claim.

that’s why they all go stupid the second they get a taste. one blowjob and suddenly they’re obsessed, wanting, touching more, eyes lingering on your body, thinking about how fast they can get you naked, how would your tits look bouncing.

it’s not even their fault. it’s just biology.

they’re all just boys at the end of the day.

twenty something guys with insane schedules, zero real privacy, and dicks that don’t understand the concept of boundaries. once they know you’re the kind of girl who gets on her knees and swallows without making it weird, their brains go crazy.

plus let’s count it in that these boys are not the smartest. to be pretty fucking real.

but anyways, these are idols. professionals. but strip away the image and they’re just horny animals who saw one of their own get his dick sucked and now their monkey brains are screaming me next me next.

attraction isn’t logical. it’s tits and ass and the way your lips look when they’re swollen from sucking cock. it’s the smell of a turned on woman and the memory of a warm throat.

so, point is, that’s why they’re acting like this. evolution doesn’t care about contracts or image. it just wants them to fuck.

so. you keep rushing when they call your name, fixing slash holding things, handing out this and that, remembering.

but underneath it all you’re a walking mess.

men affect you hard. especially when they’re his attractive.

your neck is still marked up, your pussy stays in a permanent state of dear god i need them but i’ll let them chase, and every single time one of them looks at you for too long your brain helpfully replays the feeling of chan’s thick cock grinding against you while his finger spread your ass open.

he’s the worst. (for now)

the sexual tension with him is unbearable now. every interaction feels like foreplay that never quite tips over.

nobody has ever got him feeling like this before. it’s crazy for him too, trust.

every time your eyes meet across the room there’s this acknowledgment.

we almost fucked. we’re going to fuck. it’s only a matter of when.

the tension is so bad that during one long break he actually had to excuse himself to the bathroom for five minutes because he couldn’t stop staring at you.

the others are still manageable. sure, you’ll deal with it, you’re below them anyways. plus they’re cute. you don’t really mind the attention.

especially the amount you’ve been getting from jeongin.

you’ve started feeling his eyes on you more than anyone else’s.

he watches you when you’re not looking, when you’re bent over getting something from somewhere, when you’re handing someone water, when you’re laughing at something minho said. he’s more intense.

practices are hell. to you. sweat, movement, bodies everywhere. every time someone peels off a shirt you have to look away. you’re not unaffected.

plus sometimes you can’t help but think of chan shirtless under you.

hyunjin catches you looking once and smiles with an eyebrow raise. bitch keep it in your pants.

you keep doing your job. barely.

it’s hard.

just as hard as it’s for jeongin to man himself up and try to talk to you. to shoot his shot, not just business talk.

only if you knew he heard the whole face fucking chan performed on you.

author’s note: holy shit what a basic trope. (saying this but i don’t recall seeing one fic w it. i just know, i can tell. tf. wait no there was a smau i think. i don’t read since i started writing so pleaseeeeee don’t take this as me copying anyone, i purely used this scenario to go to sleep these days(wrote this as i’m at the start of the fic, and writing now, it’s not the one i use anymore) and wanted to put it down somewhere. or i mean shii tell me if someone copyrighted it but i didn’t take the idea from anyone. just wanted to make sure y’all know this!!) this is not an accusation of how the boys act in real life!! purely a fictional characterization to my liking and the people’s who enjoy it. also this is not a high effort fic so shame on me for not making research on what an assistant would do, i’m just here for the dick.

“Mr. Seo demands your presence.”

Just hearing the name makes your entire body shiver because the henchman stopped at Mr. Seo. There is no junior at the end of it. 

Of course Seo motherfucking Changbin demands your presence because the lord of the underworld does not request. He just wills things, and they happen. He says “Let there be dark,” and no conscious mind stays pure just to earn his contentment. He says “Let there be blood,” and turf wars break out just for his bespoke entertainment. It’s actually why you get a little weak in the knees when you just think of him because omnipotence is the hottest trait a man can have.

And if fucking his less-than-impressive son is what it takes to insert yourself into his world, so be it. 

“Today,” the man raises his voice impatiently. “Follow me.”

You smirk to yourself as your heels click on the quiet marble corridor. You know why you’ve been summoned. The night before, you “forgot” to follow one of the cardinal rules he has set—you have to be within his line of sight at all times, which is also why there are cameras everywhere you’re allowed to set foot in.

What surveillance? You get a massive kick out of being his personal Truman Show.

When you cross the threshold of his study, you find Changbin watching the nightscape out the window, so intently that the energy he exudes gives you a headache. His lapdog closes the door behind you, and once he hears the soft clank, the man that owns the leash to your heart, soul, and pussy finally turns around. 

But he doesn’t look at you.

“Something you wanna say to me?” he asks, chillingly calm as he finishes his drink and immediately pours another one.

“Should there be?”

“That playing dumb thing only works if I tell you to shut your brain off, and as we can both see, I’m not currently balls deep inside you,” he quietly snarls. “Approach.”

You’re all but squealing as you’re sashaying towards his desk. When you stop right before him, he heaves a deep sigh, then pulls you close from your waist. 

“Why did you close the blinds last night?” he asks, gently caressing your neck. “You know how much I hate not being able to see you.”

“You could’ve just checked the live feed.”

“It was conveniently cut off as if someone wanted to be out of my sight,” he stares daggers at you, patience burning away dangerously fast. “Makes you wonder what someone might be doing that’s so important that she needs fucking privacy under my roof.”

“Did you want to watch your own son hit this?” you scoff. 

“Oh, you don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he wraps his fingers around your throat.

Yes. Yes. This is the part you love the most. When he fucking snaps. When he loses his shit so spectacularly that he forgets what he’s supposed to be.

“I say, and you do,” he spits through his clenched jaw. “Do you need a refresher about what happens when you don’t listen?” 

Yes, you do, actually. You want to feel that delicious sizzle on your ass again. You want him to fuck you dumb again. You want him to call you his good girl when you make yourself cum on his fingers, then watch him get hard to licking your cream off of himself.

“I didn’t want to distract you,” you speak in a knowing voice, though audibly annoyed. “I heard you were having a little dinner party with your precious wife.”

“Fuck what you heard,” he traps you between the desk and his body. “Nothing’s a good enough reason to disobey your man.”

“My man?” you burst into hysterical laughter. “Your son doesn’t have a shred of spine to tell me what to do, nor could he even if he wanted to.”

“I said your man, not your bitchass side piece,” he corrects you.

“Oh, so you’re the main character, and he’s the dude that gets killed in the first ten minutes, is that it?” you deride.

“Is there a problem?”

“Oh, there are many problems,” you purse your lips. “Just so you know, I’m getting less and less careful with my knives around your wife.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you seem to have a side piece of your own, and that’s not me, Mr. Seo.”

He can’t help the tiny smirk that clings to his lips because he’s tickled so much. He loves it when you throw jealous fits like that as if you don’t know a piece of paper means nothing to him. Nothing legally binds Seo Changbin to anything when he’s very much above the law. He is the law, and you are the blind spot he never meant to have.

But he’d rather die than get his sight back.

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” he breaks into a content smile.

“How do I put this?” you crease your brows as you give him an executive summary of your coup plan. “If you keep testing my patience, which I have very little left by the way, I’m gonna make your son cum inside me, then make your wife eat it in your marital bed.”

You put your hand on his and remove it from your throat, your face straight as an arrow. 

“Either get divorced and give me what I goddamn deserve, or just say you have no intention of ever wifing me so I can take my business to Jeongs,” you spell it out for him plain and simple. “Everyone knows Yunho’s nickname is The Head for a reason.”

Changbin doesn’t speak. He listens to you with eyes as dead as yours as if to say, “Are you done?” When silence sits between you, he peels his eyes off your fucking beautiful face and slowly pulls your dress all the way up to your waist. He’s at least fair; he makes a mental note of giving you bonus points for following his other cardinal rule, which is to never inconvenience him with underwear. He softly taps your inner thigh for you to spread your legs a little, beyond content to watch that single drop trickle down your dampened folds. He dips two fingers into his scotch glass and swipes them on your pussy for a little flavor, then finally looks at you as he offers his fingers to you. He watches you swirl your tongue around his digits, savor the taste he has created just for you, then removes his fingers to prod your entrance.

“If you mention another man’s name right in my face again,” he quietly warns, “I’ll fucking destroy everything you love.”

He pushes in three fingers all at once, and you gasp hard. He doesn’t let you adjust, starting right at 100 and only climbing up from there. Just a bit of back-and-forth with him, and you’re already so slippery, enough to fuck the shit out of you. You hold onto the desk for dear life to keep your balance, and he sneers, having the time of his life watching you struggle. He makes himself comfortable on his leather chair, fingers still inside you, then buries his face into your cunt to burn you alive. The exact rhythm you love. The exact flicks of his tongue on your clit that make your brain go fuzzy. It’s probably longer than that, but it only feels like a few seconds before you feel a gigantic wave approach. And he knows because your walls are so swollen that any more will trap him inside you and break his fingers.

“DON’T STOP!!!” you whine when he suddenly slows way down.

“Shh, patience, baby.” 

He reaches for his phone on the desk, fingering you a lot more languidly but never fully stopping. He needs the impact to land at a very specific moment. He works you until you tense up again. Until your breathing shortens again. Before he knows it, you’re moaning a little louder. A little deeper. When he decides you’re ripe enough, he dials a number and speaks into the receiver very calmly.

“Pay a visit to the East side,” he stares into your eyes as he places his order, fingering you a lot more fervently. “I want Jeong Yunho’s head.”

You explode when the words reach your ears, and Changbin helps himself to a tall glass of you. You feel so good, so satisfied that you can’t help bursting into a fucked out giggle fit. He finally stops and pulls you onto his lap, sharing the taste that drives him fucking crazier with the woman that holds his sanity hostage.

“Would you look at that?” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “All of a sudden, you have nowhere to take your business to.” 

“Murder as a love language, huh?” you bite his crooked smile. “I think I’m swooning.”

“What can I say? I’m a romantic like that,” he lands a delicious slap on your ass and starts unbuttoning his pants. 

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「© 2026, cb97percent · No translations, rewrites, or reposts permitted」

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One of the ways you spend more time with Y/N is a drop in beginning salsa class on Thursday nights at 7 pm. They have other Latin dances available such as bachata, and they even added kizomba but Y/N chose salsa. She said she finds it harder and so the two of you should take that one. After the first lesson, and free dance time starting 8 pm, you realized you both sweat a lot. Y/N was actually laughing at the similarity while you both ate dinner after 9 pm at her favourite Peruvian fast food place. You casually suggested going shopping for the next date, that you should get more sheets for her place. This is when you started to slightly understand what Your Heart meant when he said he can tell when Y/N is blushing. At first she was confused why you were asking, but you mentioned that since both of you sweat so much, that it would be wise to equip you with more sheets so it wouldn't be an inconvinience to have both Your Heart and yourself staying overnight with her. If she was already avoiding eye contact, she might as well have pointed all the satellite dishes away from you. Y/N was blinking rapidly and almost chocked on her fried plantain, and suddenly the plastic cutlery on her tray was very interesting. After she regained her composure, she said she would like that, and she placed her free hand over yours for a few seconds in appreciation. You responded with a smile of your own and you felt a sense of satisfaction in your heart. 

You let Y/N pick out the sheet sets she wanted and were quite amused when she picked all five in faux silk. She picked dark colours, one blue, another green, then came pink and even red. And lastly, she picked purple. You asked Y/N why she made those selections, she said she always wanted to own shiny sheets and now she got the opportunity thanks to you. You hadn't produced a credit card that fast since Your Heart captured your heart. You were begining to get addicted to seeing her smiling just the same way Your Heart was and you wanted to keep her smiling. So shopping dates began to include groceries and you were offloading the food into her fridge and pantry. You started to keep track of it and truth be told, she really doesn't eat much. It doesn't seem like an eating disorder and you discussed it with Your Heart. You now have her favourite brand of lactose free milk, as well as frozen fruit. And now that she's at your house, you made sure there are ripe bananas so you can make her a smoothie with milk, ripe bananas and frozen blueberries. Y/N seems to be able to injest this faster than any food she has to chew, save for her Peruvian fast food, it's the least you can do for her. 

At the momement, this Indian song is playing on a loop while Your Heart and Y/N are posing in front of you so you can draw them. Y/N is seated on the floor with her back leaning on the couch, and Your Heart is on the carpeted floor with her, with the back of his head resting on her lap. She is looking down at him while he looks up at her, and they are talking casually, with no need to raise their voices beyond a normal tone since the music is playing at a really low volume. Your Heart constantly indulges Y/N in her entertainment whims and goes along with everything she asks. He asked her what was her favourite comfort movie, and she picked 'Baadhai Do'. And this is why this song is playing in the background right now, it's from the movie. And it's also the reason why Your Heart is talking about having kids, and asking Y/N if she'd like that with the two of you. She's smiling back at him, and says she'd like to see him have kids, but she's too old and doesn't think that's going to be possible. Your Heart looks a little disappointed, and asks why he can't have a happy ending like in the movie, to which Y/N answers that she wishes him the same, a happy ending. As if to emphasise her point, she takes her hand in his and squeezes it lightly and rubs the back of his hand on her cheek, as though she is conveying her sincerity. At this juncture, Your Heart takes her hand and kisses her knuckles, and she doesn't flinch. 

You understand why she is more comfortable with him, given the position you found them in this morning. Y/N actually spent the night at your house, though she slept in your room while you slept in Your Heart's room where you always are. The three of you had spent the evening watching 'Baadhai Do' then went to your seperate rooms to sleep. When Y/N didn't come to the kitchen by the time the two of you were downstairs in the kitchen at 8 am, Your Heart went to find out if Y/N was still asleep. At 8:30 am, you went to check and found them both asleep on the floor. For some reason, Y/N was no longer in your bed but on the floor in the space next to the wall. Your Heart was fast asleep slightly on top of her, with only a sheet covering them. Y/N's leg was lifted with her knee resting on the wall, with Your Heart perfectly slotted in the space. The scene made you swallow hard and you had to adjust your shorts, but you left them to get some more sleep while you went back to the kitchen. It seems like these two were intent on recreating 'Falling' even if it was accidentally. 

Your Heart came downstairs at 10 am and informed you that Y/N was taking her morning shower. You were glad that during your shopping trips, you had made sure to stock her favourite toiletries and you even stocked up on the brands of feminine care products she is uses. Whenever she will be here at the house, she needn't worry about a thing. Your Heart also let you know that the two of you needed to talk tonight about Y/N so you were a little worried but he hugged you and told you it would be okay, but that he needed you to do him a favour drawing them both. You agreed. He had his breakfast and when Y/N came down, he asked her if you draw two of them, she said yes. He set the music play on repeat while you did your thing. 

Sunday 18th May, 2025 - 8:32 pm 

After lunch, you both took Y/N home, gave her warm hugs at the door, and watched her close the door, and only left after she engaged the latch. You were now in bed, holding each other close, letting the weekend seep through your bones and getting ready of the upcoming work week. Finally, Your Heart is ready to talk. 

"Jagi, we need to slow down with Y/N. There's more going on than she lets on. Recall how she said she needs us to be sober around her?" he quietly asks, his breathing even. You hold him even closer, listening closely, and nod slightly, encouraging him to keep talking. 

"It's more than what you said about her creating road blocks. I found her asleep on the floor, she stirred a little so I quietly asked her why she was on the floor, she mentioned having back problems if she slept on a mattress for too many hours, that she ends up on her own floor in her apartment many times just so she can keep back pain at bay."

You listen intently, not interrupting, letting Your Heart gather his thoughts. 

"I asked if I could join her, and she said yes. Y/N lifted the sheet and I lay on the side next to her but we had to maneuver a bit so I wasn't sleeping on her boobs and hurting her, it was both funny and arousing, but it didn't get me ready for the shock of what was to happen next."

You adjust your position to look directly into Your Heart's eyes, concerned because he is indicating that something went wrong in his room this morning. 

"I leaned forward to give her a peck on her lips, and she turned her face away from mine. I asked her what was wrong, if this a morning breath issue. She said there were worse situations than morning breath. She said she would likely have a fight or flight response if I tried to kiss her. That caused me to pause, I was not sure what she meant."

"She explained that it takes a while for her to get used to men, and even when she is, her body actively fights when they touch her. So far the two of us are doing well, she is comfortable around us. That's why she asked us to go slow."

"This is disturbing," you respond, and even look away at the wall for a few seconds then back at Your Heart, "so what did you do?" you ask.

"I asked her if she was serious, she said yes, she aked me to try. I was a fool or maybe it's good I tried, and by God, I have never been so turned off, she seemed to want to stay still but was shaking at the same time. I stopped immediately, but she said I have to hold her down in order to do it. I was shocked and started to pull away, she asked me me to wait. She said she was willing to try, but I told her I can't get turned on by her distress. I was not interested in seeing her in distress."

You let that bullet ricochet around in your brain, and the implications. You think back on how Y/N didn't let you kiss her knuckles and has only recenly got there with Your Heart. You say it before you can een complete the thought, "My Heart, if we are not careful, we could catch a rape charge."

"Yes, her mind and her body are not in sync so I would advise not to move forward."

"What the hell happened to her to cause her to end up like this? I am actually worried."

"So am I."

"You should talk to her, probably alone since she is more comfortable with you."

Your Heart nods in agreement and you kiss his forehead, while rubbing his shoulder lightly to comfort the two of you. You mention to him how you like Y/N enough to not want to lose her, and at the same time, you have no intention of harming her. He agrees. But then you frown and he looks at you, questioning.

"I took her shopping for bed sheets, implying we would be making love. I had no clue. Also, she showed no distress during the trip."

"This is why we have to take it slow. Y/N is interested but her body isn't ready. While you drew us this morning, I could smell her arousal. It's a strange mix of being interested while being afraid at the same time."

"What do you mean you could smell her arousal?"

"Remember my head was in her lap this morning, and she had just taken a shower. She was probably dripping."

"Jagi!"

"I wish I was kidding."

"You're fucking kidding me." You stare at the text message. Three sentences that might as well be a bomb dropped in the middle of your living room.

Hey, sorry for the short notice, but I’m moving in with my boyfriend at the end of the week.

I know rent’s due soon, but I kinda already spent my half on the security deposit for our new place.

Good luck finding someone else!

shit

Rent is due in nine days, and your bank account isn’t exactly overflowing.

You’ve never lived alone before. Couldn’t afford it even if you wanted to. And the thought of scrambling to find a new roommate in a week makes your stomach twist.

You're halfway through drafting a frantic "roommate needed ASAP" text to your groupchat when your phone buzzes.

it's one of your few friends who actually bothers to check in.

Heard about your roomie bailing. Absolute bullshit.

Anyway I know a guy. Chill as hell, works freelance, needs a place.

You'd vibe.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the keyboard. The last thing you want is some rando bringing chaos into your already crumbling life.

But then your landlord's terse "rent due on the 1st, no exceptions" text flashes in your mind.

Fine. Give him my number.

Chan texts you thirty minutes later. His messages are polite. Full sentences, proper punctuation, none of that monosyllabic grunting.

He suggests meeting at the apartment tomorrow afternoon to check the place out, and you agree.

The next day, you're scrubbing the bathroom sink when the doorbell rings. Chan stands in the hallway holding a paper bag that smells like garlic and herbs. "Figured we could talk over lunch," he says, smiling like this isn't weird at all.

Up close, he's so much cuter than you expected, blond hair, unfairly big broad shoulders, dressed in a blank tanktop that showed them off perfectly.

You blink at the take out bag, then at Chan’s easy grin.

There’s no nervous energy radiating off him, no awkward shuffling — just this unsettling calm, like he’s already decided he belongs here. “Uh,” you say, wiping your damp hands on your pants, “you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupts, already toeing off his sneakers without waiting for an invite. The scent of roasted garlic and rosemary spills into the apartment as he breezes past you toward the kitchen. “But food makes everything less weird, right?”

You trail after him, you don't know whether to be annoyed or charmed.

Chan unpacks the food containers, grilled chicken, some kind of herby rice, roasted vegetables that don’t look like the sad microwave steam bags you usually survive on.

He slides a plate toward you. “Eat first, then interrogation.”

“Interrogation?” You stab a piece of chicken, watching him warily.

Chan shrugs, mouth already full. “Standard roommate shit. ‘Do you snore?’ ‘Are you a serial killer?’ ‘Will you steal my leftovers?’” He swallows, grinning.

“The answer’s no, no, and only if you leave them unlabelled.”

The food is homemade stupidly good, and Chan’s presence is… unsettlingly comfortable.

By the time you’re scraping the last of the rice off your plate, you’ve learned he does something vague with digital marketing (“Basically, I convince people to buy shit they don’t need”), he actually enjoys doing laundry, and he likes to cook.

“So,” Chan says, stacking the empty containers, “you wanna show me around, or should I just start claiming drawers?”

The tour is quick — your apartment isn’t exactly sprawling — but Chan makes appreciative noises at the closet space and tests how sturdy the bed frame is (#whatdatmean).

When you hesitantly mention rent, he waves a hand. “Half’s fine. I’ll pay first and last upfront if you want.”

You stare. “You don’t even know the amount.”

Chan shrugs, leaning against the kitchen counter “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got it.” He pulls out his phone, taps a few times, and, before you can protest, your own phone buzzes with a notification.

It’s a Venmo payment for double what you were about to say rent costs.

Your mouth opens, then closes. “You—what? That’s too much.”

“Nah.” He pockets his phone, grinning at your baffled expression. “Consider it a ‘sorry for being weirdly pushy’. ”

You don’t argue. You can’t argue — not when your bank account is currently breathing its first sigh of relief in months.

A girls got priorities, and he doesn't really seem to mind. it's a win win scenario.

~

The first month was… strange. Not bad, just strange. he was genuinely nice, easy to talk to. it wasn't long till the initial awkwardness — if there was any — wore off. you'd become something sort of friends, and both of you settled into a quiet rhythm.

he'd left cash for rent in a neat stack on the kitchen counter on first of the month, slightly more than his half again.

When you tried to give him the extra back, he just waved you off.

You caught glimpses of his routine. disappearing into his room at odd hours, the low murmur of his voice through the walls late at night.

And then there was the day you came home early.

You weren’t supposed to be back until ten, but your shift ended early, and the bus was miraculously on time for once.

The apartment was quiet when you unlocked the door, just the hum of the fridge and the faint creak of the floorboards under your feet.

You’d barely set your bag down when you heard it — a low noise from Chan’s room.

Your fingers froze on the zipper of your jacket. The sound came again, breathier this time, followed by the slick, rhythmic sound of skin on skin.

you thought it was a girlfriend he never told you about.

The idea punched a weird, hollow ache into your ribs — which was stupid, because it’s not like you had any claim on him.

Still, you stood there frozen in the hallway, his door slightly ajar, listening to the sounds of his pleasure like some kind of creep.

You backed out of the apartment, easing the door shut with just the softest whisper of the latch catching. Your pulse hammered in your throat as you ducked into the stairwell, pressing your back against the cool concrete wall.

The rational part of your brain screamed at you to stop being weird, to just walk back in like a normal person. But the irrational part — the part currently in charge — was too busy replaying the sounds spilling from Chan’s room to listen.

You get out of the building and circle the block twice, three times, counting cracks in the sidewalk. The air smells like rain that hasn’t fallen yet, and you bask in that atmosphere till roughly an hour has passed.

When you finally drag yourself back inside, the apartment is quiet. Chan’s door is shut tight, the shower running, and no girlfriend in sight.

she must've left early.

You freeze halfway to your room when the shower shuts off. your feet are planted still go to your room, go to your room

but you weren't quick enough, and a few seconds later, Chan emerges with only a towel slung low on his hips.

He's startled when he sees you, droplets flicking off his hair as he jerks his head up. “oh hey—” His voice is casual before you cut him off, "shit—sorry!" your face heats up at the sight, your eyes wander, trailing down his toned chest that still had water droplets running down, before snapping your head in the other direction.

was he always this muscular?

and you can't help but notice that there are no hickeys on his neck, no marks on his arms, and surprisingly put together for someone who just had his girlfriend over less than an hour ago.

"no no— you're good." he reassures with a smile, "you're back early."

You swallow hard. “Yeah. Shift got cut."

Chan leans against the doorframe, his damp hair curling at the ends. You try not to stare at the way his towel clings precariously to his hips, but your gaze keeps flicking downward anyway, betraying you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, tilting his head slightly.

"Y-yeah," you stammer, fingers twisting in the hem of your jacket. "Just—uh. Busy day."

Chan hums, nodding. His eyes flick over your face, lingering a second too long on your flushed cheeks before he grins. "Cool. I was just gonna make some food if you’re hungry."

The casual offer throws you off. You were expecting — what? Awkward silence? Averted eyes? Not this easy warmth.

but you just nod dumbly. "Yeah. Food sounds good."

he pushes off the doorframe, padding toward the kitchen. The towel rides up slightly with each step, revealing the sharp cut of his hip bones, and you have to physically bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making a noise.

“You good?” he calls over his shoulder, like he can feel your stare burning into his back.

“Fine,” you squeak, following at a safe distance, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The kitchen tile is cool under your socked feet, a welcome distraction from the heat crawling up your neck.

Chan hums again, rummaging through the fridge with one hand while the other keeps his towel secured. The muscles in his back flex as he leans forward, and you’re suddenly very interested in the color of your sponge bob socks.

“Leftover pasta okay?” he asks, pulling out a container with a rattle of plastic. You nod mutely, watching as he moves around the kitchen, his bare feet slapping against the tiles.

The stove clicks to life, the hiss of gas filling the silence between you. Chan leans against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, “So,” he starts, “how was work?”

You blink. “Uh. Fine. Boring.” The words tumble out too fast, your pulse jumping when Chan chuckles. His eyes crinkle at the corners, and suddenly you’re hyperaware of every inch of space between you.

he scrapes the leftover pasta into the pan, the sizzle of garlic and butter filling the silence between you. His towel shifts dangerously low with each stir, but he doesn’t seem to notice — or maybe he does.

The corner of his mouth twitches when he catches you staring, and you snap your gaze to the ceiling like it’s suddenly fascinating.

"You know," he says, voice light, "most roommates don’t freak out when they see each other half dressed." The wooden spoon clinks against the pan as he scrapes the edges.

"I wasn’t freaking out."

Chan laughs, "You literally yelped like I pulled a knife on you." He glances over his shoulder, eyes dragging down your body in a way that makes your knees weak. "Unless you’re into that."

The pasta sizzles loudly in the pan, drowning out the choked sound that escapes your throat at Chan’s words. "I—that’s not—"

Chan turns fully now, abandoning the stove, and the towel dips dangerously low. His smirk is infuriating, "Relax," he murmurs, stepping closer, "Just teasing."

You laugh nervously, the sound too high pitched, too obvious. "I'm just gonna—" You jerk your thumb toward your room, already backing away. "Change into something more... home-y."

Chan raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Home-y,"

"yea—!" your voice cracks "y'know comfortable....home clothes"

Then you gesture vaguely at his towel, your voice cracking slightly. "Are you— uh, gonna put on actual clothes before we eat? Because I'm pretty sure health code violations apply to apartments too."

Chan glances down at himself, then back up at you, "Why?" He grins, tilting his head. "Distracted?"

"Yes—no," you sputter, crossing your arms tightly over your chest like armor. "I just don’t want your—" You wave a hand wildly in the general direction of his hips. "That—near my dinner."

Chan laughs, a full blown laugh, and you take that chance to bolt for your room, shoulders hunched as if that’ll make you smaller, less noticeable.

The door clicks shut behind you with a click, and you press your forehead against the cool wood, exhaling sharply.

"And turn the heat down!" you call out, voice too high,"Unless you want to burn the house down!"

Another laugh, muffled through the door. "Yes, mom," Chan drawls, the playful lilt in his voice making your cheeks burn hotter.

The stove clicks as he adjusts the flame, the sound followed by the soft thud of his footsteps padding down the hall. You squeeze your eyes shut, listening to the creak of his bedroom door, the rustle of fabric as he presumably — finally — changes.

You peel yourself off the door, fingers fumbling at the jacket of your shirt. The fabric clings to your skin, damp with nervous sweat, and you wrestle it off.

Home-y. Right. who even says that?

Stupid stupid stupid.

Your dresser drawer sticks halfway open, You grab the first shirt your fingers brush against, soft from too many washes, and a pair of sweatpants with the elastic stretched out.

'He has a girlfriend,' you think, shimmying out of your jeans. The denim catches around your ankles, nearly causing you to trip.

'Probably. Maybe. Who the fuck knows.'

You yank the shirt over your head so hard the neckline stretches. The mirror across the room reflects your flushed face, your hair mussed from the fabric dragging through it.

You look and feel ridiculous.

You pull up your pants, then pause, fingers hovering at the waistband. Avoid him. Simple. Logical. You can do that.

but it wasn't that easy. after all there is only so much avoiding one could do to someone they live with.

The apartment isn’t big enough for elaborate evasion tactics, and Chan seems to have a sixth sense for popping up exactly where you don’t want him.

Leaning against the fridge when you’re raiding it at 2 am, or lounging on the couch just as you’re about to claim it for a late night tv binge.

So you just ended up being cooped in your room for most of the day.

But Chan isn’t stupid. eventually after days passed by, he’s leaning against your bedroom doorframe when you crack it open after what you thought was a safe half hour of silence.

“So,” he says, arms crossed, voice dripping with amusement, “you’re avoiding me.”

You freeze, one socked foot hovering mid step like a cartoon character caught mid sneak. “No,” you lie too quickly.

Chan raises an eyebrow. “You literally just ducked into the bathroom because you heard me coming down the hall.”

“I had to pee.”

“For the fourth time today?” His grin lopsided, “Either you’ve got a UTI, or you’re full of shit.”

You grit your teeth, fingers tightening around the doorknob. “Maybe both.”

he sighs out laugh, then steps closer, “Listen,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a serious tone, “if this is about the whole towel thing—”

“It’s not,” you answer quickly, too loud, too fast.

“So it is about the towel thing.”

“I’m not—” You exhale sharply through your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can you just—” You gesture vaguely at the space between you. “Give me, like, a three foot radius?”

Chan tilts his head, considering. His gaze drags down your body, before settling back on your face. “Nah,” he says finally, “I like you flustered.”

You bite your lip, eyes darting around, then settle on his, before darting around again.

The silence stretches, until you finally crack under the weight of it. “you—don’t you have a girlfriend?” you blurt, the words stumbling out in a rushed, stuttering mess.

Chan blinks, his smirk faltering for half a second before dissolving into genuine confusion. “A what?” His laugh sounds startled, almost disbelieving.

You press your lips together, suddenly regretting every life choice that led you to this moment.

Chan's eyebrows climb toward his hairline, "A girlfriend?" He repeats, "What, like, some theoretical girl who sneaks in when you're not looking?"

You gesture vaguely at him — the tousled hair, the unfairly sculpted shoulders, the effortless charm that clings to him like a second skin.

"You just—seem like the type." The words tumble out half mumbled, your gaze darting anywhere but his face.

Chan’s laughter echoes through the hallway, loud enough that you flinch—not just from the sound, but from the way it makes your stomach flip.

"Oh my god," he wheezes, leaning against the doorframe like he needs the support. "You thought I had some secret girlfriend sneaking in here to—what, fuck me while you're at work?"

You cross your arms tightly, "It's not that ridiculous," you mutter, but even you hear how weak it sounds.

"First of all, if I had a girlfriend, you'd know. I'm not subtle." His smirk tilts into something teasing. "Second, I'm very single. And third—" He pauses, tilting his head. "Wait. Is that why you've been avoiding me? You thought I was getting laid in there and didn't invite you?"

Your face burns. "No—that's not—"

His grin softens slightly, but the teasing glint in his eyes doesn’t fade. "So," he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "what is it, then?"

You swallow hard, fingers gripping the edge of your shirt so tightly the fabric threatens to tear. "Nothing," you lie. "Just—roommate stuff. Boundaries."

Chan hums, "Boundaries," he echoes, Then, "You know you can just tell me if I’m doing something that makes you uncomfortable, right?"

You swallow hard, "Yeah," you mutter, gaze trailing to his eyes and holding his stare for the first time throughout this conversation "I know."

Chan pushes off the doorframe with a shrug, "Alright then," he says, clapping his hands together like he's wiping the whole conversation away. "Takeout time. You in?"

it's like all this man does is think about food...and make you weak in the knees.

You blink, "Uh. Yeah. Sure."

Chan pulls out his phone, already scrolling through delivery apps, "Thai? Or that new Italian place that opened down the street?" He glances up, eyebrows raised expectantly. "Unless you're feeling sushi again, but last time you complained about the wasbi being too strong."

The normalcy of it — the way he remembers your stupid, offhand complaints about condiments — makes something in your chest tighten.

You clear your throat. "Thai’s good."

~

The weirdness fades slowly, chan doesn’t mention the girlfriend comment again, and you stop bolting like a startled deer every time he walks into a room.

He starts leaving his door open when he’s working, the rhythmic tap of his keyboard drifting into the hallway. You catch yourself lingering in the doorway sometimes, watching the way his brow furrows when he’s concentrating, the way he bites his tongue when he’s stuck on something.

once, he catches you staring and pats the space beside him on the bed without looking up from his laptop. “Help me brainstorm this dumb tagline,”

You perch awkwardly at first, careful not to touch him, but Chan sprawls like he owns every inch of the mattress, his thigh pressing warm against yours. and before you know it, you’re leaning into him, pointing at the screen. “That one’s terrible,”

~

Movie nights become a thing.

The first movie night starts by accident — or at least, that’s what you tell yourself. You’re curled into the corner of the couch, knees tucked under your chin, scrolling through your phone while Chan sprawls across the other end, his laptop balanced precariously on his thighs.

Then the Wi-Fi cuts out.

Chan groans, tossing his head back against the cushions. “Fucking landlord,” he mutters, jabbing at his keyboard like it’ll magically fix the connection.

You snort, watching him glare at the screen like it’s personally offended him. “Guess we’re gonna have to talk to each other,”

“Horrifying,” he deadpans, then grabs the remote off the coffee table. “a movie it is.”

You end up with some terrible action movie Chan insists is a “classic,” but neither of you pay much attention. Halfway through, you catch him watching you instead of the screen, his head turning back to the movie when you caught him.

You brush it off, focusing on the screen, but your pulse jumps when Chan shifts closer, his thigh pressing against yours.

The credits roll, and he stretches. The couch creaks as he shifts, stretching his arms overhead with a groan that does things to your already frayed nerves.

"Well," he murmurs, voice rough around the edges, "that was a cinematic masterpiece."

You snort, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah, if you consider explosions and zero plot development masterful storytelling."

Chan’s chuckles “Plot is overrated,” he says, “Sometimes you just wanna watch things blow up.”

Chan then exhales heavily and stands. “Alright, I’m hitting the shower,” he says, stretching until his shirt rides up, revealing a sliver of toned stomach. You look away — too late — and Chan’s smirk is audible in his voice. “Try not to miss me too much.”

“In your dreams,” you mutter, but your pulse jumps when he pauses by the hallway, glancing back over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says softly, almost to himself. “Exactly.”

You sit there, frozen, until the bathroom door clicks shut and the shower starts running. The sound of water hitting tile fills the apartment, and you press your palms to your overheated cheeks, exhaling sharply.

Stupid. You’re being stupid. That probably didn't mean anything.

But then your phone buzzes on the couch beside you, and Chan’s name lights up the screen.

forgot my towel. mind grabbing it?

You stare at the message, then at the hallway, Trap, your brain supplies helpfully.

type back,

Seriously?

he answers immediately

dead serious. i’m vulnerable here.

You groan, dragging a hand down your face, but you’re already standing. His towel hangs on the back of his bedroom door, You grab it, then walk out to the bathroom.

You knock once, then freeze when Chan calls out, “Just come in.”

Your throat goes dry. “Absolutely not.”

Chan’s laugh echoes off the tiles. “Relax, I’m decent.” A pause. “Mostly.”

you squeeze your eyes shut, then shove the towel through the gap in the door, arm outstretched as far as possible. “Here.”

Chan’s fingers brush yours as he takes the towel. His skin is warm, damp, and you jerk your hand back like you’ve been burned.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, voice closer than you expected. You can *feel* his smile through the door. “You’re a lifesaver.”

You bolt back to the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a groan.

too much for your first movie night.

~

just when things were getting normal, It happens again on a monday.

You’re home early again, the apartment is silent. You toe off your shoes, and you were about to shout a "I'm back" when you heard it again.

Low, breathy moans slipping through the crack in Chan’s door.

Your feet root to the floor, ears straining as the noise curls around you.

His voice, thick with pleasure, murmurs something you can’t quite catch — then a wet, rhythmic sound that sends heat flooding your cheeks.

apparently, this man takes his....alone time very seriously.

that's what it had to be right? you can't blame him — you've been there once or twice.

Your breath sticks in your throat, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. The sound— god, the sound — wraps around you, thick and heady, Chan's voice breaking on a moan that scrapes down your spine.

You should move. should bolt to your room, slam the door, drown it out with headphones. but your feet refuse to cooperate.

You tiptoe into the hallway, his door is cracked just enough, and your pulse hammers so loud its drowning out any other coherent thought in your brain.

A peak wouldn't hurt...

The door creaks faintly as it opens another inch, just enough for you to see.

Chan sits on the edge of his bed, but not like you thought. Not hidden, not private. No, this is something else entirely.

A ring light casts a glow over his bare skin, the camera propped on his desk angled perfectly to capture every inch of him. His laptop screen is open with a reflection of him and a rapid stream of comments too fast to read.

Oh.

Oh god.

Your stomach drops, then tightens all at once.

Chan’s head is tipped back, his throat working around a groan as his hand moves lazily between his thighs.

You press yourself against the hallway wall, pulse hammering, thoughts running a hundred miles per hour.

you did not expect this.

His breath hitches, a sharp, punched out sound, and your nails dig into your palms.

Chan’s fingers twist at the base of his cock, his thumb smearing precum in slow circles. The camera catches the way his abs flex as he arches into his own touch, his voice ragged when he murmurs, "Wish you were here." before he bites down on his lower lip. "Could use a mouth right now."

You watch, frozen in place, as his thighs tremble, his free hand fisting in the sheets beside him. The comments on his screen blur into a frenzy of emojis and a bunch of pinging donations. His breath stutters, his jaw clenching as his strokes turn erratic, desperate. “Yeah,” he gasps, voice breaking, “yeah, just like that—”

Then he comes with a choked moan, stripes of white painting his stomach as his back arches off the bed.

Gosh, he’s gorgeous — and you barely register the dampness between your own thighs until Chan slumps back against the pillows, chest heaving.

Chan exhales sharply, his fingers still lazily stroking his softening cock as he leans forward, just enough to tap something on his laptop.

he ends the stream with a wink and a low, raspy comment that you didn't quite catch. The screen goes black, and you barely have half a second to process the situation before your body kicks into motion.

You bolt down the hallway, socked feet silent against the hardwood.

Your bedroom door clicks shut behind you just as Chan gets up. You press your back against the door, lungs burning from holding your breath, and listen.

Water runs in the sink. A towel rustles. Then you hear footsteps.

They pause outside your door.

You purse your lips and hold your breath. Then Chan hums, before his footsteps retreat down the hall.

You slump against the door, exhaling shakily.

Holy shit.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you fumble to pull it out.

you home early?

You stare at the text, thumbs hovering over the screen. Lie, your brain screams. Tell him no. but then how would you fake going into the apartment if you're already inside the apartment?

Just got back

You hit send before you can second guess it.

Cool. Dinner soon?

Your fingers hover over the screen, the weight of his question pressing against your ribs like a stone. The air in your room feels — too thick — and suddenly the idea of sitting across from Chan at the kitchen table, pretending you didn’t just watch him get off on camera, makes your stomach twist.

Gonna shower first.

Your phone buzzes again before you can even set it down,

Can I join?

You nearly drop it, blood roaring in your ears. Then—

jk. don’t use up all the hot water.

You toss your phone onto your bed and drag a hand down your face with a sigh.

You're deeply fucked.

~

That night, you stayed up aggressively googling him till his page came up.

Onlychans? really?

you'd laugh at the username if it wasn't for the videos that popped up when you clicked on his profile.

Chan, shirtless, sprawled across what is unmistakably your living room couch, one hand lazily palming himself through his sweatpants.

Chan, biting his lip as he slicks lube down his cock, the camera angled to capture every twitch of his abs.

Chan, moaning, his head thrown back against the pillows of his bed —your apartment, your shared space — while his other hand works something thick and glistening into his—

You slam the laptop shut.

Your face burns. Your pulse thrums in your ears. The apartment is silent — Chan’s out for a run, or so he’d claimed when he’d left an hour ago.

You open the laptop again.

It’s Curiosity. That’s all.

It starts innocently enough — just checking his schedule, really. A quick glance at his calendar pinned to the fridge.

"For productivity purposes," Chan had joked when you asked.

Then, sure enough, it spiraled.

You memorize the time of his streams, monday nights, Friday nights, he'd timed them perfectly in sync with times he knew you wouldn't be home. that's why you've been blissfully unaware of him filming in different locations around your shared apartment for the past two and a half months.

And the occasional late night surprise session that leaves you fumbling for your earbuds at 1 am. You'd literally be home, but he'd go live anyway. was he into that?

you were into it too, admittedly, because you turned out to be just as shameful as him.

The notification pops up at 1:47 am on a Wednesday 'Chan is live!' (yes, you turned his notifs on) and your fingers freeze mid doom scroll through Instagram.

your room is dark except for the glow of your phone screen, you're supposed to be asleep.

You tap the notification.

Chan’s face fills the screen, his grin already in place as he adjusts the camera. He’s shirtless, propped against the headboard of his bed, one arm draped lazily over his bent knee. The ring light casts shadows along his abs, highlighting every dip and curve.

"Late night surprise," he murmurs, "*Miss me?*" aaaand heat is already pooling low in your stomach.

His fingers work on hinseld, slow and teasing at first, thumb smearing precum in lazy circles while he talks— god, he sure does talk, filthy praises and half formed fantasies spilling from his lips like he’s whispering them directly into your ear. You bite your lip to stifle a gasp, your other hand slipping under the waistband of your pajama shorts.

Chan arches his back on screen, his free hand gripping the sheets beside him. "Fuck, you guys are greedy tonight," he rasps, stroking himself slowly. His thumb presses against the head on every upstroke, just how you’ve learned he likes it — learned from watching, from nights spent with your phone hidden under your pillow, screen dimmed to its lowest setting.

"Fuck, m'close," Chan groans, your fingers moving between your thighs in time with his rhythm, matching the pace, hips shifting under the sheets, your breath coming shallow.

It’s not the first time you’ve watched him like this, but it’s the first time you’ve done it live, with the shaky thrill of knowing he has no idea you’re here.

A whimper almost escapes you when he swipes his thumb over the head of his cock, his breath hitching. You press your palm over your mouth, stifling the sound.

The last thing you need is him hearing you through the thin walls.

The thought alone, him catching you, realizing, sends a sharp jolt between your legs. You squeeze your thighs together, chasing the feeling before it slips away.

His hand speeds up, the wet sound of his skin moving over his cock muffled only slightly by the mic's noise suppression. "God, fuck—gonna come so hard for you," he grits out, his voice cracking on the last word.

You press your free hand harder against your mouth, fingers digging into your own cheek as you watch his stomach tense, the muscles there flexing under the sheen of sweat. Your own movements stutter when he lets out a low, punched out moan, his hips jerking up into his fist.

You’re so close you can’t think straight. The coil in your stomach winds tighter with every stroke of his hand, every filthy sound he makes, matching his rhythm like you’re desperate to prove something— like if you can just finish at the same time, it’ll mean something. Stupid. It’s stupid. But your hips jerk anyway, your breath coming in short, shaky bursts against your palm.

"Fuck, fuck—" His hand stills suddenly, fingers tightening around the base of his cock as he tips his head back, you watch as his body locks up for one second — and then he’s coming, stripes of white painting his stomach, his chest.

Your own climax crashes over you at the same time, so violently you nearly choke on the gasp you swallow down, your back arching off the bed as pleasure burns through you in hot, dizzying waves.

He’s still catching his breath, his free hand dragging lazily through the mess on his stomach, fingers tracing the lines of cum with a slow, absentminded swipe.

His lips curl into that stupid, effortless smirk you’ve seen a hundred times,

"Mmm, fuck," he murmurs, voice rough around the edges, still a little breathless. "You all got me good tonight."

He reaches for a towel off screen, the muscles in his arm flexing as he wipes himself clean. You watch, transfixed, as he tosses the towel aside and leans closer to the camera, cheeks are still flushed, his lashes low.

"Hope that was worth the wait," he says, eyes flickering to the chat before he grins. "gosh you guys are generous with the tips tonight." and you catch a few of the comments.

slave4u: how bout you come and give me that tip

sweetheartonline: gone broke just for you </3

Chan just chuckles, shaking his head. "Alright, alright, I’m done. You’re all insatiable." He stretches his arms above his head, his torso arching beautifully, "Next stream’s friday. Be good for me til then, yeah?"

With one last wink, he reaches forward, and the screen goes black.

You yank your earbuds out, Your chest heaves, your skin still buzzing, your thighs still sticky, and you press the heels of your palms against your closed eyelids until colors bloom behind them.

you find it ridiculous that you're actually enjoying this, perverted thoughts. Stupid. So stupid.

~

Two weeks pass after that. You're hyperaware of Chan’s presence in a way that makes your skin itch. Every casual touch sends sparks skittering up your spine.

You try to act normal, you really do.

But you catch yourself staring at his hands when he cooks, remembering the way they moved over himself on screen, and have to physically shake your head to clear the image.

Chan, for his part, seems to thrive on your discomfort. He leaves his bedroom door cracked just a little wider than necessary, and infuriatingly, he's rarely not shirtless.

it's okay. you're okay. at least you tell yourself that.

till it's Friday morning, marking the beginning of your third month.

the apartment is quiet, still bathed in the soft gold of early morning light filtering through the kitchen window. you hum under your breath as you flip pancakes.

then Chan emerges, shirtless, his sweatpants slung low on his hips, hair still messy from sleep.

He leans against the doorway, watching you with that lazy, knowing smirk. “Morning,” he rasps, voice still thick with sleep.

this feels too domestic for your liking.

“Morning,” you mumble, not turning around.

Chan pads closer, bare feet silent against the hardwood, until he’s right behind you. His warmth radiates against your back, “Smells good,” he murmurs, and you swear his lips brush the shell of your ear.

The spatula clatters against the pan. too domestic.

Chan chuckles, as he reaches around you to steal a piece of pancake from the prepared stack. His chest presses against your shoulder, his skin searing where it touches yours. “Careful,” he teases, popping the bite into his mouth. “You’ll burn them.”

The pancake batter sizzles violently as you stand there, frozen, Chan’s body heat scorching against your back.

His fingers brush your hip as he reaches for the syrup, and you nearly drop the spatula again.

"You’re jumpy this morning," Chan muses, leaning against the counter beside you. "Bad dreams?"

sure, if 'bad' and 'wet' are the same thing. "something like that."

Chan hums, tilting his head as he studies you. "Got plans today?"

You flip another pancake onto the growing stack. "Just groceries later." The words come out steadier than you feel.

His grin grows. "Mind if I tag along?"

You shrug, "It’s just errands."

Chan snags another pancake, leaning into your space until his bare shoulder presses against yours. "Exactly. Sounds thrilling." His fingers brush yours as he steals the spatula, flipping the last pancake with a flick of his wrist. "Come on. I’ll even push the cart."

You huff a laugh despite yourself. "You’ll get bored in five minutes."

"Bet?" He bumps your hip with his, "Loser buys ice cream."

~

The grocery store is exactly as mundane as you predicted, but Chan makes it unbearable in ways you didn’t anticipate — his fingers lingering when he passes you items, his chest pressing against your back in crowded aisles like it’s accidental. By the time you hit the freezer section, your nerves are frayed.

"Pick a flavor," Chan murmurs, chin hooked over your shoulder as he reaches past you to open the glass door. His breath ghosts across your cheek. "I’m feeling generous."

The freezer air hits your face, but it does nothing to cool the heat creeping up your neck. Chan’s arm brushes yours as he leans in, his fingers tracing the edge of a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. "This one," he decides, plucking it from the shelf. "tastes like toothpaste sometimes, but eh" he said with a shrug.

You snort, grabbing a classic vanilla, but he plucks it from your hands and replaces it with something absurdly decadent, something with caramel swirls and chocolate chunks.

"Live a little," he grins, tossing it into the cart.

The checkout line is agony. Chan stands close enough that his knuckles keep brushing the small of your back, each touch sending sparks up your spine.

the cashier — an exhausted looking college student — scans everything, he pushed your hand aside when you tried to pay, and handed the cashier his card.

he caried all the groceries too, and swatted your hand away when you try to carry any.

it feels like he's your boyfriend.

The apartment door clicks shut behind you both, grocery bags rustling as Chan kicks off his shoes. You’re still fumbling with the laces of your sneakers when he brushes past you with the plastic bags.

You follow, already going to pull things out and putting them in their designated cupboards, Chan’s already rummaging through to find the ice cream, His grin is wide as he holds it up. "Scoops or straight from the tub?"

"freezer" you deadpan, "it's probably melted by now"

his shoulders slump a little, turning around to place the tubs in the freezer.

"and, scoops," you mutter, "We’re not animals."

he snickers, "Debatable."

Chan nudges the freezer door shut with his hip, the ice cream safely stowed away for later. "Movie night?" he suddenly asks, casual as anything, "Haven't done one in a while."

You nod, "Yeah. Okay."

You retreat to your room to change, fingers fumbling with the hem of your shirt before you even reach the door. The fabric sticks to your skin, too warm and you peel it off with a relieved sigh the second you’re alone.

The dresser drawer squeaks as you rummage for shorts and a tank top since its getting too hot, but your hands freeze mid reach when you hear Chan’s door creak open down the hall.

The unmistakable sound of fabric hitting the floor — jeans, probably — makes your throat go dry. You strain to listen, pulse hammering in your ears, as Chan hums under his breath. Something clatters, a belt buckle, and then the soft rustle of fresh clothes being pulled on.

You yank your own shorts up so fast you nearly trip, ears burning. Pathetic.

When you emerge, Chan’s already sprawled across the couch in loose joggers and that stupidly thin white tank top.

"You took forever," Chan drawls from the couch, already eating his way through a popcorn bucket.

"You're picking?" he scoffs, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. "After the garbage you called 'cinema' last time?"

You snatch the remote before he can lunge for it. "You picked Twilight unironically last time."

Chan clutches his chest like you've wounded him. "Bella Swan is a cultural icon."

You scoff, scrolling through the options, ignoring Chan's dramatic sigh as he flops back against the cushions. His knee bumps yours, but you don't pull away.

"Fine," he huffs. "But if it's another pretentious indie film where people whisper for two hours, I'm revoking your movie privileges."

"Fine," you grumble back, scrolling past a dozen of said pretentious indie films with moody black and white thumbnails. "But only because I pity your attention span."

Chan's grin is immediate as he stretches an arm along the back of the couch, fingers brushing your shoulder.

"pick something with action," then wiggles his eyebrows, "Or nudity."

You elbow him hard in the ribs.

"Ow—," Chan wheezes, but he's laughing, catching your wrist before you can retreat. His fingers are warm and rough against your pulse point, thumb pressing into the flutter there. "Violent and kinky," he muses, tugging you closer until your shoulders press together. "I like it."

You yank your wrist free and snatch up the remote again, scrolling through titles.

Chan's laughter vibrates through the couch cushions as you land on something, anything, just to shut him up. The movie starts with a car chase, tires screeching, glass shattering. Perfect. Loud enough to distract whenever Chan shifts beside you.

"Action and nudity," Chan murmurs, nodding approvingly at the screen where some actor's shirt rips open during a fight scene. "You do know me."

You sink lower into the couch, arms crossed. "Shut up and watch."

The first ten minutes of the movie blur into a haze of gunfire and badly timed one-liners, the volume turned up just loud enough to drown out the way Chan’s fingers keep tracing idle patterns against your shoulder.

You focus resolutely on the screen, but Chan’s warmth beside you is impossible to ignore. His knee presses into yours, his bare arm brushing against yours every time he reaches for more popcorn, and each touch sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.

Then, during a lull in the action, Chan shifts beside you, his hand sliding from your shoulder to the back of your neck. His fingers curl gently into your hair, thumb brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"You’re not even watching," he mmurmur.

You swallow hard, refusing to look at him. "Am too."

Chan hums, unconvinced, his thumb stroking slow circles against your skin. "Liar."

His accusation hangs between you, thick and charged, and suddenly the movie feels like background noise.

His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, tipping your head back just enough that you have no choice but to meet his gaze.

His eyes are dark, there’s no teasing smirk now, no playful glint — just hunger.

Your breath hitches audibly.

Chan’s thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me to stop."

You don’t.

His lips crash into yours before you can form a coherent thought, the remote clattering to the floor as your hands fist in his shirt.

Chan groans into your mouth, fingers tightening in your hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with so much desperation.

The movie drones on, but all you can feel is the way his hips jerk forward against yours as you press closer. His hands slide down to grip your waist, hauling you halfway into his lap without breaking the kissl.

"You’ve been driving me insane," Chan pants against your lips, one hand slipping under your shirt to trace the dip of your spine. "Watching me, pretending you weren’t—fuck—" His words dissolve into a groan when you grind down against him, the hard line of his cock pressing insistently against your thigh.

He knows you know. he has all this time. The realization makes your eyes widen slightly—but it doesn’t surprise you. Not really.

Not when Chan’s fingers tighten possessively around your hips, his teeth scraping your lower lip like he’s been waiting for this moment just as long as you have.

His palm slides up your ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of your breast through your thin tank top, and your breath stutters against his mouth.

Of course he knew. The cracked doors, the late night streams he timed too perfectly with your schedule. Those weren't just coincidences.

You pull back just enough to see his face, your eyes wide with the realization that just dawned on you.

his lips are swollen from your kisses, panting, “Surprise,” he rasps, voice wrecked.

Chan’s grip shifts, hauling you fully into his lap, and you gasp when his hardness presses against you. His chuckle vibrates through your chest as he rolls his hips up, slow and filthy. “Thought you’d never crack,” he murmurs, lips grazing your jaw.

Your hands fist in his tank top, the fabric damp with sweat where it clings to his chest. “You—asshole” you pant, hips jerking against his involuntarily. “All that teasing—”

Chan's grin widens "All what teasing?" he murmurs, pressing an open mouthed kisses to your neck. "You mean leaving my door open just a little too wide?"

His teeth scrape your skin, "Or maybe streaming at exactly the times I knew you'd be home?" His palm cups your breast through your shirt, thumb brushing over your nipple.

You gasp when he pinches lightly, hips jerking against his. "You're insane," you manage, though the words come out more breathless than angry.

Chan laughs against your throat, before his teeth sink into the tender skin just below your ear. Your nails dig into his shoulders as his hands slide down to grip your hips, guiding your movements as you grind against him. The friction is dizzying, the thin fabric of your shorts doing nothing to dull the heat of him pressed against you.

"Insane?" His breath is hot against your damp skin. "Baby, aren't the one who watched my streams every other night?" His fingers slip under the hem of your tank top, tracing the waistband of your shorts with maddening slowness.

You whine, the sound high and desperate in your throat, and nod before you can think better of it. The admission burns your cheeks, but the way Chan groans against your skin makes it worth it.

"yeah?" he rasps, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.

Chan’s fingers flex against your waist, his breath hot against your lips. “Every fucking time,” he admits, voice rough “I’d pretend it was your hand on me,” His thumb presses into the dip of your hipbone, “Your mouth.” His gaze drops to your parted lips, then back up, heavy lidded. “You have no idea how many times I came thinking about you watching me.”

Chan exhales sharply, his nose brushing yours. “cancelled tonight’s stream,” he murmurs, lips grazing yours with every word. “would rather beg you to fuck me instead.” His palm slides up your ribcage, fingers tracing the edge of your bra through your tank top.

“You don’t have to beg,” you murmur, lips brushing his as you swing your leg off his lap. Chan exhales sharply, hands gripping your waist tighter like he’s afraid you’ll pull away entirely, but then you’re sliding to your knees between his legs, fingers hooking into the waistband of his joggers.

His breath catches when you tug them down just enough to free his cock, already hard and leaking against his stomach.

gosh he's even bigger than he looks on camera.

Chan's breath stutters when your fingers wrap around him, his hips jerking into your grip before he can stop himself. "Fuck—" His voice cracks, a hand flying to fist in your hair as you stroke him slow, watching the way his eyelids flutter.

He's hot and heavy in your palm, already slick at the tip, and the way his thighs tense when you swipe your thumb over the head is obscene.

Chan’s fingers tighten in your hair when your lips brush the head of his cock, his breath stuttering out in a ragged groan. “Fuck—fuck—” His hips jerk up instinctively, but you pull back just enough to tease, swirling your tongue over the tip without taking him deeper, and you can’t resist glancing up through your lashes to watch his face twist with pleasure.

“So loud,” you giggle, blowing a slow breath over the wetness you’ve left behind. Chan’s thighs tense under your palms. “All those streams,” you continue, stroking him lazily with one hand while the other traces the vein running along his length, “and you never moaned like this.”

Chan’s laugh comes out strained, his chest heaving. “it wasn't you,” he grits out, hips rolling up into your touch. His fingers tug at your hair, guiding you back to him with a quiet desperation that sends heat pooling low in your stomach. “Now stop teasing—”

You swallow him down before he can finish, humming around him just to feel the way his whole body jerks. His moan is filthy, unfiltered, his hips canting up into the wet heat of your mouth like he can’t help it.

You take him deeper, throat working around him, and Chan’s fingers tighten in your hair, not guiding, just holding on for dear life.

“god—” His voice cracks when you hollow your cheeks, tongue pressing flat against the underside of his cock. His other hand fists the couch cushion beside his thigh, knuckles going white. “So good—shit—you take me so fucking good—”

You pull off with a slick pop, lips brushing the flushed tip as you peer up at him, teasing, thumb swiping over the bead of precome gathered there.

Chan’s chest heaves, his abs flexing as he stares down at you, His grip in your hair tightens just enough to sting — a silent warning — but you just grin and duck back down, sucking him deep until his thighs tremble.

Chan curses, his hips lifting off the couch as you bob your head, the wet sounds obscenely loud even with the movie still playing forgotten in the background.

“Gonna—” He's cut off by his own gasp, “Gonna come if you keep—”

You pull off with a wet sound, lips slick and swollen, and replace your mouth with both hands, jerking him so fast his hips stutter off the couch, his breath coming in ragged, punched out gasps.

“Wait—fuck—” Chan chokes out, fingers scrambling at your shoulders, but it’s too late — his back arches off the cushions, muscles locking tight as he spills hot over your fingers and his own stomach.

His thighs shake under your palms, his cock twitching in your grip as you stroke him through it, slower now, milking every last drop until he’s whimpering and oversensitive, his hands weakly pushing at your wrists.

“Turn around,” Chan rasps, chest rising and falling rapidly. His fingers slide from your hair to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your spit slick bottom lip. “Want you riding me.”

Your stomach flips at the command, but before you can move, Chan’s hands are gripping your waist, hauling you up onto the couch with surprising strength. He settles you over his lap in one smooth motion, your thighs bracketing his hips, and the sudden press of his bare skin against yours makes you gasp.

Chan groans, fingers digging into the meat of your thighs as he leans back to look at you, really look at you, his gaze dragging down your body with a hunger that makes your skin prickle.

he hooks a thumb into the waistband of your shorts and tugs, sliding them off, his breath hitching when he finds you already soaked through your panties.

"Fuck," he exhales, dragging the damp fabric aside with one finger, his touch featherlight as he traces your slit. His other hand cups the back of your neck, pulling you down until your foreheads touch, his breath mingling with yours. "You're so wet," he murmurs, voice rough with disbelief. "Just from sucking me off?"

You nod, hips canting into his touch shamelessly, his finger circles your clit —once, twice, before dipping lower, sliding into you, crooking just right to make your back arch. His free hand fists in your tank top, dragging you closer until your chest presses against his, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the way your nipples harden against him.

His thumb pressing firm circles against your clit, and your vision whites out for a second — just long enough to miss the way his free hand fists in your tank top, yanking it up until the fabric bunches just above your chest. His mouth replaces his fingers, teeth scraping over your nipple through the lace of your bra, and you gasp, hips stuttering against his hand.

“Thought about this,” he pants against your skin, his tongue lapping at the wet spot he’s left behind. “Every goddamn stream—imagined you like this, wet and desperate for me.” His finger curls again, dragging a broken moan from your throat, and his grin is all teeth when he leans back to watch you unravel. “Knew you’d be prettier than I imagined.”

You grab his wrist, stilling his movements, and his brows furrow — confused, frustrated — until you swing your leg over him, straddling his lap properly this time. His cock, half hard again, twitches against your thigh as you grind down, the friction drawing a ragged groan from both of you.

Chan’s hands fly to your hips, guiding your movements as you rock against him, his breath hot against your collarbone.

“Wanna feel you,” you murmur, fingers fumbling between you to grip him, slicking him up with your own arousal. Chan’s head falls back against the couch, his Adam’s apple bobbing as you line him up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance.

You sink down onto him with a choked gasp, thighs trembling as he stretches you open inch by agonizing inch. Chan’s hands clamp around your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, but he doesn’t rush you —just watches as you take him deeper.

"Fuck," you whimper, nails scraping his shoulders when he bottoms out, your body shuddering at the unfamiliar stretch. "You’re—god—you’re so big—"

Chan groans, hips twitching beneath you, fighting not to thrust up. "Yeah?" His voice is wrecked, breath hitching as you clench around him. "Feel good, baby? Stuffed full of me?" His fingers trail up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts while you adjust. "taking me so good."

You roll your hips experimentally, and Chan’s head thuds back against the couch, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. "That’s it," he rasps, hands sliding to grip your ass. "Use me—ride me just like you imagined."

The words send heat flaring up your neck, but you can’t deny them, can’t stop the way your body responds, hips rolling in slow circles. Chan hisses between his teeth when you clench around him, his fingers flexing against your skin.

"Christ—fuck—you’re so tight," he grits out, eyes locked on where you’re joined. "Bet you thought about this every night, hmm? Watching me stroke my cock on cam while you fucked yourself on your fingers?"

You whimper, thighs quivering as you lift yourself halfway up before sinking back down, his cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. his breath stutters, his hips jerking up to meet you halfway, and the sudden shift punches a ragged moan from your throat. "Oh fuck—Chan—"

"Say it," he demands, thumb brushing your clit as you bounce in his lap. His voice is rough, wrecked, his pupils blown wide, "Tell me how much you thought about this, how many times you came imagining me inside you."

You gasp when he pinches your clit lightly, your rhythm faltering, "Every—ah—every night," you admit, nails digging into his shoulders as you grind down harder. "Watched you—touched myself—god, wanted you—"

Chan groans, fingers tightening on your hips as he guides your movements, thrusting up to meet you. "Knew it," he pants, lips brushing yours with every ragged breath.

"Knew you were getting off to me—fuck—your little gasps when I’d look at the camera—" His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing your nipples through your bra. "Bet you came so pretty for me, huh? All quiet so I wouldn’t hear?"

You nod frantically, hips stuttering as his cock hits that spot inside you, the pleasure building dangerously fast. "Y-yes—*fuck*—Chan, please—"

"Please what?" he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk even as his own breathing falters. He slows your movements deliberately, dragging you through each excruciatingly slow roll of your hips. "Need me to fuck you harder, baby?"

You whine, fingers tangling in his hair as you try to chase your own rhythm, but his grip on your hips is unrelenting. "Yes—god, yes—"

he flips you onto your stomach before you can finish begging, his hands rough and sure as he shoves your knees apart against the couch cushions. The fabric burns against your bare thighs when he yanks your hips back, his cock sliding out of you with a slick sound that makes your face burn.

You barely have time to whimper before his fingers dig into your waist, lifting you on all fours with a sharp tug — his chest presses hot against your back, his breath ragged in your ear as he lines himself up again.

he doesn’t give you a second to adjust. He slams into you with one brutal thrust, punching the air from your lungs as your elbows buckle against the cushions. His cock stretches you open deeper than before, the angle hitting deeper, and you choke on a scream when his hips snap forward again, setting a punishing pace before you can catch your breath.

Hands clamp around your hips, fingers bruising as he drags you back onto him with every thrust. The couch creaks beneath you, the sound drowned out by chan’s ragged groans and the slick slap of skin on skin. His rhythm is merciless, no teasing now, just pure, desperate need as he fucks into you like he’s been starving for it.

Chan's grip on your hips shifts — one hand sliding up to fist in your hair, yanking your head back until your spine bows beautifully beneath him. "Fuck, look at you," he growls, his voice rough with something between awe and hunger as he takes in the sight of you spread out beneath him.

His fingers tighten, pulling just enough to make your scalp prickle, before his palm cracks down against your ass, the sound echoing through the room louder than the forgotten movie still playing in the background.

You gasp, thighs trembling as the heat blooms across your skin, but Chan doesn’t give you a second to recover. His hips snap forward, driving into you with a force that has your nails scrabbling against the couch cushions for purchase. "Take it," he orders, voice wrecked, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "God, you feel so good—clenching around me like—" His words dissolve into a groan as he picks up the pace, each thrust punching a ragged sound from your throat.

His free hand slides around your waist, pressing firm circles against your clit, and the dual sensation has your vision blurring at the edges. "That’s it," he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear as his rhythm falters for just a second, "Gonna make you come just like this—spread out, taking me so well—"

His thumb presses harder against your clit, and your back arches involuntarily, a broken moan tearing from your lips as the pleasure crests suddenly, violently.

Chan curses, his grip tightening as you clench around him, your body shuddering through the waves of it. "Yeah, there you go, gonna cum for me?"

You nod vigorously, your fingers twisting into the couch cushions as Chan’s thrusts turn erratic, his breath ragged against your ear. "Cum with me," he rasps, and it’s all you need.

Your body clenches around him like a vice, pleasure crashing over you in waves so intense your vision whites out for a second. Chan groans, his hips stuttering as he spills inside you with a broken gasp, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.

Chan pulls out slowly, hissing through his teeth when you clench around him reflexively, oversensitive.

The couch cushions are damp beneath your trembling thighs, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat as you collapse onto your stomach, chest heaving. Chan exhales sharply, running a hand down your spine, before flipping you onto your back, more gently this time.

The shift makes you wince, your body still thrumming with aftershocks, he slides off the couch onto his knees between your legs. His palms skate up your inner thighs, spreading them apart with slowly despite your weak protest. "Shh," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. "Just wanna taste you."

You squirm when his breath ghosts over your sensitive skin, but Chan’s grip tightens, holding you open. "Chan—" His name comes out hoarse, your voice wrecked. "I’m—ah—too sensitive—"

Chan’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open despite your squirming. His tongue flicks over your clit, just enough to make your hips jerk, oversensitive and trembling.

“You can take it,” he murmurs against your skin, “You’re a big girl, yeah?” His teeth graze your inner thigh, before his mouth closes over you again, and your back arches off the couch with a choked gasp.

You can take it. You do.

Every swipe of his tongue sends sparks shooting up your spine, your fingers twisting into his hair — not to pull him away, but to keep him right there, his mouth working you through the dizzying aftershocks of your orgasm.

Chan hums against you, the vibration making your toes curl, and his grip on your thighs tightens when you try to press them together instinctively. “None of that,” he chides, nipping at your skin before dragging his tongue up your slit again, “Just let me have you.”

You whine, hips caving into his mouth despite the oversensitivity, the pleasure tipping into something almost painful, but you don’t tell him to stop. Couldn’t if you wanted to.

"so sweet," he groans against you, the words vibrating through your oversensitive nerves. His fingers dig into your hips, pinning you down when you try to squirm away from the intensity. "No— stay still."

You whimper, but obey, letting him spread you wider as his tongue delves deeper, circling your entrance before dragging back up in one long, torturous lick.

"Chan—please—" you gasp, but you’re not even sure what you’re begging for — him to stop or never, ever stop.

His response is to hook your leg over his shoulder, angling you deeper into his mouth, and then he’s sucking you in, his tongue working you with precision. You sob his name, your hips jerking uncontrollably as the pressure builds again, too soon, too much—

You choke out his name, fingers scrambbling at his shoulders, a desperate attempt to ground yourself, before your hips jerk violently against his mouth.

“Chan, gonna—oh god—” The warning spills out brokenly, your thighs clamp around his head as you come with a shuddering gasp, your back bowing off the couch as pleasure rips through you.

he groans against you, the vibration wringing another broken sound from your throat, he doesn’t pull away, just laps at you greedily, his tongue dragging through the mess you’ve made of him with slow strokes.

“Fuck,” he rasps against your skin before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “You’re perfect like this.” His thumb brushes your clit once, testing, and you jerk with a gasp, your body still thrumming with aftershocks.

Chan grins up at you, all dark eyes and swollen lips, before dragging his tongue up your slit one last time.

Chan rises from between your thighs with a groan, his lips slick and glistening with you, you realize with a jolt — before his mouth crashes into yours, the kiss filthy and possessive, his tongue licking into your mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair, sticky with sweat, and he moans into your mouth when you tug — sharp, just to feel him shudder.

You pull away eventually, both of you panting, sticky with sweat and other things, and collapse onto the couch in a tangle of limbs. Chan drags you half on top of him, your head resting against his chest where you can hear his heartbeat still racing beneath his skin.

His fingers trace idle patterns along your back, the movie’s credits roll, forgotten, casting flickering shadows across the ceiling.

You nuzzle into his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat slowing down, the rise and fall of his breath beneath your cheek. His skin is warm and slightly sticky, and you press a kiss to it without thinking, smiling when his fingers pause for a second before resuming their path along your spine.

"Quit staring," you murmur, tilting your head up just enough to catch him watching you with an expression that makes your stomach flip. soft, almost awed, Chan huffs a laugh, his thumb brushing your hipbone where he’d gripped hard enough to leave marks earlier.

"Can’t help it," he admits, voice rough with exhaustion "You’re kinda fucking gorgeous like this."

You snort, but your cheeks heat anyway, and Chan’s grin widens when he notices. He shifts beneath you, rolling just enough to tuck you more firmly against his side, his arm a solid weight across your waist.

The movement makes you wince, your thighs ache in a way that’s equal parts delicious and punishing, and Chan’s fingers tighten reflexively, his smirk turning smug.

"Sorry," he lies, and you bite on his shoulder just to hear him yelp.

his yelp dissolves into laughter, his fingers digging into your sides as he squirms away from your teeth. “Fuck, ow,” he complains, but his grin ruins the effect, “You bite hard—should’ve known you’d be a menace.”

You grin against his shoulder, pressing another kiss to the reddening mark you left behind. “Payback,” you murmur, tracing the outline with your tongue just to feel him shiver. Chan groans, his hips jerking reflexively beneath you, and you freeze when you feel him stirring against your thigh—already half hard again.

“Seriously?” you ask, incredulous, and Chan has the audacity to look proud, his smirk widening as he rolls his hips up against you.

“What?” he teases, voice dripping with false innocence. “Can’t help it—you’re right there, all warm and fucked out—” His hand slides down your back, fingers skimming the curve of your ass before squeezing lightly. “And you bit me. That’s basically foreplay.”

You press a hand to Chan’s chest when he tries to roll you beneath him again, your thighs still trembling from the last round. “Shower,” you mumble, and Chan makes a wounded noise against your collarbone in protest.

“Five more minutes,” he tries, lips trailing up your neck like he’s trying to convince you with his mouth.

You laugh, breathless, and squirm out of his grip before he can distract you properly. “No—shower,” you insist, swatting at his hands when they try to drag you back. “We’re disgusting.”

Chan pouts — actually pouts, like this big hunk of a man didn't just fuck the daylights out of you — and flops back against the couch with a dramatic sigh. “Fine,” he grumbles, but his eyes track your every movement as you stand, snickering when you wobble slightly on unsteady legs.

You stumble towards the bathroom, then you glance back at Chan, sprawled across the couch with his arms behind his head, watching you with that stupid, smug grin, and ask, "When’s your next stream again?"

his grin falters into confusion when your question registers. "Monday," he says automatically, his brows furrowing, "Why?"

You hum, "Just thinking," then you shrug, "maybe I’ll join you next time."

he's caught off guard when you leave him hanging and close the bathroom door behind you, "don't start something you can't finish!"