The secret of secrets

Pairing: 3Racha x marriedProducer!reader (f)

Genre: Cheating (reader), Coworkers to lovers, Smut (18+ Minors do not interact)

Summary: You are another producer at JYP and you were married. But you weren't happy anymore and it showed. When 3Racha questioned you about it, hidden mutual desire emerged. Will you give in the temptation?

Warnings: Cheating, failed marriage, deep talk, insecurities, smut, unprotected sex, foursome, dual stimulation, oral, fingering, creampie

Words: 12k (sorry I got carried away)

Authors note: This was a request from a follower. I had some difficulties writing this kind of story so let me know how you like it :) Also my first time writing something with multiple partners. Kinda liked it and I might do more in the future.

You are a producer at JYP mostly working with ITZY. Occasionally you helped out 3Racha with Stray Kids songs, so you and them got along pretty well. You were married but you weren't sure if you were still happy with it. Your husband Jin was a good men. And you definitely loved him in the past but something changed between you since you got married two years ago. Maybe it was the daily routine or taking each other for granted after all this time. But you didn’t feel the pull any more, the desire for each other. You were barely even attracted to him anymore. You only had sex maybe twice a month and even then it felt more like you have to than wanting to. You stayed at work longer lately. Trying to distract yourself from whatever waited at home. Pouring your frustration in your work. 

You just finished a recording session with ITZY when Jin texted you. Asking when you will be home. You sighed and turned your phone around. Yuji saw it and asked “Everything ok Y/N. We can wrap it up for today if you want to go home” but you answered quickly “no I want the last verse a bit more powerful. We will record it again. Please”     As the ITZY members exchanged concerned glances, the studio door suddenly swung open. Bang Chan walked in first, followed by Changbin and Han, their presence immediately filling the room with a different energy. Chan's sharp eyes quickly scanned the situation, noting the tension in Y/N's shoulders and the forced smile she wore.    "Hey Y/N, we need to go over those tracks you sent us last week," Chan said, his voice carrying that natural authority he always had. His hair was slightly messy, clearly having run his hands through it multiple times during their own session. "But it looks like you're in the middle of something. How much longer?" 

Changbin leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, his tank top showing off those muscles he'd been working so hard on. He caught the way Y/N had turned you phone face down and raised an eyebrow, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Working late again, I see. That's the third time this week, isn't it?"    Han bounced on his heels slightly, those big round eyes of his studying Y/N with unexpected perceptiveness. He tilted his head, a playful grin emerging. "You know what they say about all work and no play, right? Makes Y/N a very stressed producer." He gestured dramatically. "Plus, we brought coffee. The good stuff from that place near Hongdae. Consider it a bribe for your time."    Your eyes light up. being thankful for the excuse. “Coffee! yes please. You are my heroes. and yes we can go over that track after I’m finished with the girls. In your usual studio?”    Chan nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched your entire demeanor shift at the mention of coffee. He'd noticed how you'd been throwing yourself into work lately, staying longer hours, taking on extra sessions. As a fellow workaholic, he recognized the signs—but unlike him, it didn't seem like passion driving you.

"Studio 3, yeah. We'll set everything up and wait for you there." 

He paused, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "Take your time with the girls though. No need to rush a session just for us."    Changbin pushed off from the wall and walked over to you, holding out a large iced Americano with a cocky grin. "Extra shot, light ice, just how you like it. See? I pay attention." His voice dropped slightly lower, playful but with an edge of something more. "Unlike some people apparently." His eyes flicked meaningfully to you turned-over phone. Misreading your motions. 

Han practically skipped over, clutching his own elaborate frappuccino creation, that mischievous glint in his eyes becoming more pronounced. "Ooh, are we talking about people who don't appreciate Y/N's amazingness? Because I have opinions about that." He leaned in conspiratorially toward the ITZY members. "You girls are lucky to work with her, you know. Best producer in the building, hands down."    The three of them settled into the back of the studio, making themselves comfortable but creating an undeniable presence—like they were silently offering Y/N a refuge she didn't even know she needed.    “YAH we appreciate Y/N. She IS the best producer. Better than 3Racha actually.” Ryujin yelled from the recording booth. Misinterpreting what Han meant. Even though you hoped that’s what he meant. You don’t want them to notice whats going on in your private life. “Ignore her. And thanks for coffee. It will be approximately another 30 minutes till I’m finished. You can just go ahead to studio 3” You said smiling at them while taking a sip from your coffee

Chan chuckled at Ryujin's comment, shaking his head with amusement, but his eyes remained fixed on you. He could see right through your deflection—years of reading people in the industry had made him perceptive to these things. Still, he wouldn't push. Not here, not now.    "Alright, we'll head out then. But Y/N—" He paused at the door, turning back with that intense gaze that made people feel simultaneously exposed and protected. "Don't rush on our account. Quality over speed, yeah? That's what you always tell us." There was something in his tone that suggested he wasn't just talking about the recording session.    Changbin grabbed the door handle but threw a look over his shoulder, that characteristic directness of his cutting through the professional atmosphere. "And answer your phone before whoever's blowing it up has a meltdown. We can hear it buzzing from here." His expression softened just slightly. "Or don't. Sometimes people need to learn patience."    Han was the last to leave, but not before doing an exaggerated bow to the ITZY members. "Better than 3Racha? That's fighting words, Ryujin-ah!" He laughed, but as he passed you, he leaned in close enough that only you could hear. "You know where we are if you need to talk. Or not talk. Sometimes the studio's just a good place to... breathe." Those big eyes of his held unexpected understanding before he bounced out after his members. 

You sighed and finally texted Jin back. Saying that you had to work late again and that you are sorry. You will make it up to him at the weekend. Then you finished your recording session with ITZY. 

After 40 minutes you said goodbye to the girls. You looked at your phone and Jin answered that he understands and looks forward to spending more time with you at the weekend. You sighed again and went to Studio 3 without answering him.    As you pushed open the door to Studio 3, you were met with a surprisingly relaxed atmosphere. The usual harsh overhead lights were dimmed, replaced by the softer glow of the equipment displays and a small lamp in the corner. Chan sat in his usual position at the mixing board, headphones around his neck, fingers dancing across the controls with practiced ease. The track they'd been working on played softly in the background—something moody and introspective. 

Changbin had claimed the couch, his laptop balanced on his thick thighs as he scrolled through what looked like lyrics, occasionally muttering lines under his breath. He looked up when you entered, that signature smirk returning. "There she is. We were starting to think you'd ditched us for the girl group." He patted the spot next to him on the couch. "Come sit. Chan's been obsessing over the bridge section for the past twenty minutes."    Han was sprawled on the floor, back against the wall, surrounded by empty coffee cups and snack wrappers. He had his phone in one hand, probably scrolling through social media, but his attention immediately shifted to you. Those round eyes caught the slight tension still lingering in your shoulders, the way you gripped your own phone perhaps a bit too tightly. "Hey, your coffee's probably warm by now, but I can grab you a fresh one from the cafe? Or—" He jumped to his feet with surprising grace for someone who'd been folded up on the floor. "We have soju. Courtesy of our last session running way too late."    Chan swiveled in his chair to face you, immediately reading the atmosphere you brought in with you. He'd always been good at that—sensing the mood, adjusting accordingly. His expression softened from its usual intense focus. "Before we dive into work stuff, you good? You seemed... stressed earlier. And I know that look—I see it in the mirror often enough." He gestured vaguely at his own face. "The 'I'm-fine-but-actually-drowning-in-something' look." 

The three of them created a space that somehow felt safer than it should—like Studio 3 had become a sanctuary rather than just another workspace. The track continued playing, a gentle melodic foundation to whatever conversation was about to unfold.    You waved them off. Smiling genuinely. You really liked the guys. Liked working with them. “Everyone is stressed at JYP, don’t read too much in it. Chan you are stressed all the time. and Soju? Aren't we forbidden to drink at work? always the rule breaker Han” you laughed.    Han clutched his chest dramatically, stumbling backward as if mortally wounded. "Rule breaker? Me? I'm deeply offended, Y/N!" But his eyes sparkled with mischief as he grabbed the bottle anyway, along with some small shot glasses. "Besides, it's after hours. Technically not work anymore—this is just three friends hanging out with their favorite producer." He set everything down on the coffee table with a triumphant grin. "And you didn't say no, so I'm taking that as a yes."    Changbin snorted, closing his laptop and setting it aside. "Han's right for once. After hours means different rules. Plus, you look like you could use it." His tone was still playful but carried a thread of genuine concern. "And yeah, Chan's stressed all the time, but he's not married to his stress—you might be though, judging by how tight you're gripping that phone." 

The comment hung in the air for a moment before Chan shot Changbin a warning look—subtle but clear. Don't push too hard. He turned back to you, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his expression open and non-judgmental.    "He's not wrong though. Being stressed at JYP is normal, sure. But there's work stress and then there's... everything else stress." He gestured to the chair next to him at the mixing board. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But we're here. Not just as colleagues." His Australian accent always became slightly more pronounced when he was being genuine. "And honestly? The track can wait. I've listened to it so many times I could probably produce it in my sleep at this point."    Han had already poured four shots, sliding one across the table toward you with an encouraging smile. "Come on, one shot won't kill you. Might even help you relax enough to tell Chan his mixing on the second verse is too muddy." He winked. "Because it totally is, but he won't listen to us."    You freeze at their implication. Eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m not married to my stress. And it’s nothing. Normal marriage problems. It will pass. But yes fine, one shot then I have a look at that muddy verse” You joke deflectingly.    The atmosphere in the room shifted slightly at your defensive reaction. Chan noticed immediately—the way your body language closed off, the sharp edge to your voice. He exchanged a quick glance with Changbin and Han, a silent communication that came from years of working together. 

Han recovered first, his natural playfulness smoothing over the tension. "Normal marriage problems, she says, like that's supposed to make us worry less." He picked up his shot glass, raising it with an exaggerated flourish. "But fine, we'll drop it. For now. To muddy verses and stressed producers!" He downed his shot with practiced ease, then immediately made a face. "Ugh, why do we keep buying the cheap stuff?"    Changbin leaned back into the couch, his muscular arms spreading across the back as he studied you with those sharp eyes of his. Unlike Han's playful approach or Chan's careful concern, Changbin was always more direct—but he knew when to pull back. "You know what's funny about 'normal marriage problems'? Everyone says that. Every single person who's actually miserable says that." He shrugged, his tone casual despite the weight of his words. "But hey, what do three single workaholics know about marriage, right?"    Chan stood up from his chair and moved to the couch area, deliberately creating a more relaxed setting rather than the formal producer-at-work dynamic. He picked up his own shot glass, twirling it between his fingers thoughtfully. "Alright, we'll talk about work then. But Y/N—" His voice dropped lower, that leader quality coming through that made people actually listen. "The door's open. Not just tonight. Whenever." He raised his glass. "To getting through whatever we need to get through. Together."    The three of them waited for you to join the toast, the unspoken message clear: they weren't just colleagues. They were offering something more—friendship, support, maybe even refuge. 

You picked up the soju glass raising it “to hoping for better days” and you downed it “ugh who bought that?” you sat down in the chair Chan got up from. Still warm from his body. Looking at the three guys infront of you. You worked with them for 3 years already. You grew close, work wise, but you always tried to keep a personal distance to them. Not letting them too close. You tilted your head “How come that you guys are actually still single? And don’t say because you are idols. Hyunjin has a girlfriend and I know about Felix secretly dating that make up artist. I know all the gossip”    Chan let out a genuine laugh at your question, settling back into the couch with a more relaxed posture. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, a habit when he was thinking. "Fair question. And you're right—the idol excuse only goes so far." He paused, considering his words carefully. "For me? Honestly, I think I'm too much. Too demanding, too focused on work. Takes a special kind of person to deal with someone who'd rather spend their anniversary in a studio than at some fancy restaurant." There was something in his tone that suggested he wasn't entirely joking.    Changbin snorted, pouring another round of shots without asking. "Chan's too busy being married to his laptop and those damn mixing boards. But me?" He flexed unconsciously, that cocky grin returning. "I'm just waiting for someone who can handle all this." He gestured to himself dramatically, but then his expression softened. "Nah, real talk? I'm picky. I don't want to settle for someone who just likes the rapper image or the muscles or whatever. I want someone who actually sees... me." His directness made the confession feel raw despite the casual delivery. 

Han had been unusually quiet, pouring himself another shot and downing it before speaking. When he finally did, those big round eyes of his held unexpected depth. "You want the truth? I'm terrified of being boring." He laughed, but it wasn't his usual playful sound. "Like, the stage Han is fun, right? Quirky rapper with the big eyes and the energy. But regular Han? The one who gets anxious and overthinks everything and sometimes can't leave his apartment because his brain won't shut up?" He traced the rim of his glass. "That guy's not as appealing. So I just... don't put him out there."    Chan reached over and smacked Han's shoulder affectionately. "You're not boring, you idiot."    Changbin nodded in agreement. "What he said. But see, Y/N? We're all fucked up in our own ways. Nobody's got it figured out." His eyes met hers meaningfully. "Not even people who look like they have the perfect marriage from the outside."    The studio felt smaller somehow, more intimate. The music had stopped playing, leaving only the quiet hum of equipment and the weight of shared vulnerabilities hanging in the air. 

You snort at Changbins comment “Perfect marriage huh” you take the shot glass Changbin filled and emptied it in one go, without waiting for the others. Signaling to Changbin to fill it again “And yeah too focused on work. Tell me about it. Finding someone who understands it is…not easy. And you.” you pointed at Changbin. “Be picky Changbin. Don’t settle for less. You are more than what meets the eye. And what’s inside is worth it” you say genuinely smiling at him. Then you turned to Han “Terrified of being boring? I know what you mean. But Han trust me. You are everything but boring. When we work together, you are not just the quirky rapper and you overthink here constantly too. I even had to push 5 lemon drops in your mouth to stop your panic attack once. And I still like you or want to spend time with you. Anyone who can’t see how wonderful you are is not worth it.”    The air in the studio shifted dramatically at your words. The three of them hadn't expected such raw honesty from someone who'd kept them at arm's length for three years. The weight of your confession about the "perfect marriage" hung heavy, and the way you'd immediately downed another shot didn't go unnoticed. 

Han's eyes glistened slightly, his usual playful mask completely dropped. He remembered that panic attack—remembered how you had just known what to do, hadn't judged him, hadn't treated him like he was broken. "I... you remember the lemon drops?" His voice was softer than usual. "That was over a year ago." He moved from his spot on the floor to sit closer, perching on the arm of Chan's chair. "You never mentioned it again. I thought maybe you'd forgotten or—"    Changbin filled your glass again but this time also filled his own, his expression more serious than before. The cocky rapper persona had melted away completely. "Inside is worth it, she says, while downing shots like she's trying to drown something." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his dark eyes intense. "Y/N, you just gave us a whole speech about being worth it and not settling. So why do I get the feeling you don't take your own advice?"    Chan stood up abruptly, but not in anger—in that decisive way he had when he'd made a choice. He walked to the mixing board and locked the studio door with a soft click, then turned back to face them. "Okay, new rule for tonight. Studio 3 is a no-bullshit zone. We've all been dancing around something here." He came back and sat on the coffee table directly in front of you, his knees almost touching yours, his intense gaze locked on your face. "You don't have a perfect marriage. In fact, I'm guessing you're fucking miserable in it. And you've been using work as an escape, which I recognize because I do the same thing—but I don't have someone waiting at home wondering where I am."    His voice was gentle but firm, that leader quality coming through. "So here's what's going to happen. We're going to sit here, drink this terrible soju, and you're going to stop pretending you're fine. Because you just saw us—really saw us—and called us out on our shit. So now it's our turn." 

 Han nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! Equal vulnerability or whatever. That's only fair, right?" But his eyes were concerned, watching you carefully.    Changbin raised his glass. "To the no-bullshit zone. May we all be brave enough to be honest." He paused, then added with surprising tenderness, "And may we all find people who actually see us. Including you, Y/N."    All three of them waited, creating a space that felt simultaneously challenging and safe—like they were offering you permission to finally crack

You took the shot and raised it “Fine. To honesty. But whatever happens in this studio stays in this studio” you downed it together with them “And did you really just locked us in here?” you said to Chan chuckling “but fine I guess. You have no idea how hard marriage is. The constant pressure from the outside. Constantly talking everything out. Considering the other persons expectations and constantly feeling guilty for not meeting them.” you leaned back, closing your eyes and sighing loud “It’s exhausting.”    Chan didn't move from his position on the coffee table, close enough that you could probably feel the heat radiating from him. His expression was unreadable for a moment before he spoke, his voice thickening slightly with emotion.    "Yeah, I locked the door. Because I've watched you run away from conversations for three years now." His tone wasn't accusatory—just honest. "And what happens in Studio 3 stays in Studio 3. Always has, always will." He leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his thighs. "But Y/N, that's not what marriage is supposed to be. Or at least, not just that. You're describing a prison, not a partnership." 

Changbin poured another round, his movements slower, more deliberate. When he spoke, his voice had lost all its usual bravado. "My parents have been married for thirty years. You know what my dad told me once? He said marriage should make you feel more free, not less. More yourself, not less." He slid a glass toward you. "The fact that you just described it as exhausting and guilty and pressure? That's not normal marriage problems, Y/N. That's a fundamental incompatibility trying to masquerade as commitment."    Han had curled up in the corner of the couch, hugging a pillow to his chest, but those big eyes never left ypur face. His voice was quieter, more introspective. "You know what's really exhausting? Pretending to be happy when you're not. Pretending you're attracted to someone when you're not. Going through the motions because that's what you're supposed to do." He tilted his head. "And before you ask how I know—I was in a relationship like that once. Not a marriage, but serious enough. Every day felt like acting. Every touch felt like a chore. And I stayed because I thought that's what you do when you're a good person."    Chan reached out slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, and gently took the phone you'd been clutching. He set it face-down on the table beside him. "Tonight, you're not a wife. You're not a producer. You're just Y/N. And Y/N—" his eyes softened in a way that made him look younger, more vulnerable, "—when's the last time you felt genuinely excited to go home?" You let out a huff of breath. Not sure how to anwer that.    The three of them created a triangle around you—not trapping, but surrounding you with their presence. The soju was working its magic, loosening tongues and lowering defenses. Changbin's next words came out rough with emotion.    "We see you, you know. All of you. The brilliant producer who hears things in music that no one else does. The perfectionist who stays late because she actually cares. The woman who remembers panic attacks and brings lemon drops." He paused. "The person who's been fading a little more each month, trying to make herself smaller to fit into a life that doesn't fit you anymore." 

Han uncurled from his position and moved to sit on the floor in front of you, looking up at you. "And you're allowed to admit that. You're allowed to say it out loud. That you're not happy. That you made a mistake. That you want something different." His voice dropped to almost a whisper. "You're allowed to want more than just existing."    The studio felt charged with something—honesty, vulnerability, maybe something more dangerous. The walls they'd all carefully maintained for three years were crumbling, and none of them seemed interested in rebuilding them.    And now either their words or the soju broke something in you. You choked. Not quite allowing yourself to cry but choking on your own feelings. “I made the decision to marry him. He is a good men. I see him trying so hard and me? I can’t remember the last time I couldn’t wait to go home. I feel guilty every time I push him away when he wants contact. What is wrong with me? I am the villain in this marriage” You admitted burying your head in your hands.    The moment your voice cracked, something shifted in all three of them. Chan was off the coffee table in an instant, moving to kneel beside your chair. He didn't touch you yet, but his presence was solid, grounding. 

"No. Stop that right now." His voice was firm but achingly gentle. "You're not the villain for not being able to force attraction. You're not a bad person for being honest about what you feel—or don't feel." He finally reached out, his hand hovering near your knee before settling there with careful pressure. "Being a good man doesn't make someone the right man. And staying with someone out of guilt isn't fair to either of you."    Changbin moved from the couch to sit on the other side of your chair, his broader frame creating a protective barrier. When he spoke, his directness was tempered with unexpected tenderness. "Y/N, listen to me. My cousin stayed in a marriage like that for eight years. Eight fucking years of pushing away, feeling guilty, trying to force herself to want someone she didn't want." He ran a hand over his face. "You know what happened? She became a shell. And her husband? He knew. Deep down, he knew she wasn't really there. It destroyed them both in different ways."    Han had moved closer too, still on the floor but now leaning against your legs, his head resting near you knee in a gesture of pure comfort. "You're not broken, Y/N. You're just... in the wrong place." His voice was soft, almost melodic. "Like trying to force a ballad to be a rap song. The song isn't bad—it's just not supposed to be that. And the more you try to force it, the worse it sounds."    Chan's thumb moved in small circles on your knee, probably unconsciously. "When's the last time someone touched you and you actually wanted it? Not tolerated it, not let it happen because you should—but actively wanted it?" His eyes were intense, searching. "When's the last time you felt desired? Or desired someone back?" 

The question hung in the air, dangerous and intimate. Changbin's arm had somehow ended up along the back of your chair, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel the heat of him. Han's hand rested lightly on your ankle, his fingers barely making contact but the touch electric nonetheless.    The three of them surrounded you—their presence, their warmth, their understanding creating a cocoon that felt safer than anything had in years. The studio lights seemed dimmer somehow, the world outside ceased to exist.    Changbin's voice was rougher when he spoke again. "You know what I think? I think you've been starving yourself. Emotionally. Physically. Denying yourself what you actually want because you made a promise to a good man." He leaned closer, his breath warm near your ear. "But Y/N, you're allowed to be selfish sometimes. You're allowed to take what you need." 

You looked back at Chan. Felt all their touches and you swallowed hard. When was the last time you desired someone? You remembered when you first met 3racha. You were blushing so hard back then because you were stunned at how attractive they were. But you were already in a committed relationship with Jin, so you pushed that thought away. For 3 years. And now heat creeped up your neck. And you weren’t sure if you could blame the soju on that “You can’t be selfish in a marriage.” you whispered before clearing your throat “It’s just a phase. We will work it out” you didn’t really believe yourself when you said it out loud.    Han let out a bitter laugh, his head still resting against your leg, his fingers tightening slightly on you ankle. "A phase. Two years is a phase?" He looked up at you, those big round eyes seeing right through you. "Y/N, you've been 'in a phase' for longer than most relationships even last. That's not a phase—that's just... your reality that you won't admit to."    Chan's hand slid slightly higher on your thigh, his touch burning through the fabric of your pants. His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "You're lying to yourself right now. I can see it. We all can see it." He tilted his head, studying your flushed neck, the way your breathing had changed. "Your body's telling a different story than your words, Y/N. Your neck is flushed. Your pulse is racing—I can see it here." His free hand came up to hover near your throat, not quite touching. "When's the last time Jin made you feel like this? Made your breath catch? Made heat pool in your stomach?" You blushed even harder at his comment looking away, avoiding his gaze. 

Changbin's arm finally made contact, his hand settling on your shoulder, thumb brushing the side of your neck in a deliberate stroke. "You can be selfish, actually. You know why? Because staying in a marriage where you're miserable—where you can't even remember the last time you wanted to be touched? That's not noble. That's cruel." His voice was rough velvet in your ear. "Cruel to him, because he deserves someone who actually wants him. And cruel to you, because you deserve to feel desired. To feel wanted. To feel like someone can't keep their fucking hands off you."    The three of them had unconsciously moved closer, creating an intimate circle around you. The air felt thick, charged with something that had been building for three years but had been carefully suppressed under the guise of professionalism.    Han shifted, turning to face you more fully, his hands now resting on both your legs. "Can I ask you something? And I want you to answer honestly—no 'should' answers, no 'good wife' answers. Just truth." His eyes were intense despite their usual playfulness being completely stripped away. "Right now, in this moment, with us touching you like this—do you want us to stop?" You swallowed thickly. 

Chan's thumb traced the inside of your thigh, barely a whisper of touch but deliberate. "Because here's the thing, Y/N. We've wanted you for three years. All of us." His confession came out raw, honest. "We've watched you, worked with you, kept our distance because you were married and we respected that. But watching you slowly disappear into this shell of yourself? That's been torture."    Changbin's lips were close enough to your ear that you could feel his breath. "So tell us to stop. Tell us you actually want to go home to Jin. That you're excited to see him. That touching you makes you feel the way we're making you feel right now." 

His hand slid from your shoulder to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. "Say it convincingly, and we'll back off. We'll go back to being just colleagues. But if you can't..." He let the implication hang.    The studio suddenly felt very small, very warm. The three of them waited—predatory but patient, giving you the choice but making it abundantly clear what they wanted. What they'd always wanted.   

Your breath hitched at their touches. Of course they were right. You haven’t felt like this in years. Haven’t felt that spark, that desire in you. Your skin was burning, your pupils blown. But you couldn’t do that. No matter how much you wanted. 

You shot up from the chair, quickly putting distance between you and the guys “No. We can’t. This- it’s wrong. I’m married. And I already feel guilty for how things are. I can’t add this to that. I need to go home. Chan unlock the door. Please” you pleaded.    The three of them froze as you shot up, the sudden distance feeling like a physical blow. But none of them moved to stop you—not yet. Chan remained kneeling where he'd been, his jaw tight with restraint. Changbin's hand dropped from where it had been reaching for you, clenching into a fist on his thigh. Han slowly stood from the floor, his expression unreadable.    Chan was the first to speak, his voice rough with barely controlled emotion. "No." The single word hung in the air, not aggressive but immovable. "I'm not unlocking that door. Not yet." He stood slowly, his full height suddenly feeling more imposing. "Because if you walk out that door right now, you're going to go home and pretend this didn't happen. You're going to climb into bed next to a man you don't want and hate yourself a little more. And tomorrow, you'll avoid us. Next week, you'll request a different studio. In a month, you'll have built those walls so high we'll never get through them again." 

Changbin stood as well, his muscular frame tense. "You talk about guilt, Y/N? Let me tell you about real guilt." His voice was harder now, that direct nature cutting through. "Real guilt is wasting years of your life—and his—pretending something is there that isn't. Real guilt is letting him believe he has a chance to fix something that was never broken—it just never fit in the first place." He took a step toward you, not closing the distance but refusing to let you hide. "You running away right now? That's not being faithful. That's being a coward."    Han moved to lean against the door, not blocking it exactly, but making his position clear. When he spoke, his voice had lost all its playfulness—this was the Han that wrote devastating lyrics about pain and longing. "You felt something just now. We all felt it. And I know—I know—that scared you. Because feeling something real after feeling nothing for so long? That's terrifying." Those big eyes were pools of understanding mixed with frustration. "But you can't unfeel it now, Y/N. You can't go back to pretending you're satisfied with crumbs when you just remembered what it feels like to be hungry." 

Chan moved closer, slowly, giving you space but not letting you retreat further. "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to think before you answer—really think." His voice softened but remained intense. "If you go home right now and climb into bed with Jin... if he reaches for you, tries to touch you, initiates sex..." He paused, letting the scenario settle. "Will you be thinking of him? Or will you be thinking of us? Of our hands on you? Of how your skin felt on fire in ways it hasn't in years?"    Changbin's voice joined in, creating a verbal triangle around you. "Because that's the real betrayal, Y/N. Not what almost happened here. But going back to him while wanting us. Letting him touch you while fantasizing about our hands. That's worse than anything that could happen in this studio."    Han pushed off from the door slightly, his voice dropping to something almost pleading. "We're not asking you to blow up your life tonight. We're not asking you to leave him this second. We're just asking you to stop lying." He took a breath. "Stop lying to him. Stop lying to yourself. And stop lying to us. You want this. You want us. And wanting something doesn't make you a bad person—denying yourself and everyone else the truth? That's what makes everything worse."    The three of them stood their ground, creating a physical barrier between you and the door—not trapping you, but refusing to make you escape easy. The air was thick with tension, desire, frustration, and something deeper—a genuine care for your wellbeing even as they pushed your boundaries.    Chan's final words were soft but devastating. "So no, I'm not unlocking that door yet. Because you deserve five more minutes to sit with the truth before you run back to a comfortable lie." 

When you finally were able to speak your voice was rough with restrained feelings “You want to hear the truth? I’ve been sitting with that truth for over a year now. I loved him. I really did. And when he proposed to me I wanted this. I swear I did. But then doubt crept in and I pushed it away telling myself it was normal before marriage. But that doubt never went away. I know for some time now that I made a mistake. But this is Korea. You can’t just get a divorce like its a normal thing. It’s not just about us. It’s about our families and everything involved with it. So don’t tell me to sit with the truth.” you bit out frustrated “and yes. Fuck I admit it. I want you. I desire you. But that doesn’t mean I should just act on that.”    The confession hit all three of them like a physical force. The air in the studio seemed to crackle with the weight of your admission. Chan's expression shifted from stern determination to something more complex—vindication mixed with aching sympathy. 

Changbin let out a breath he'd been holding, running both hands through his hair. "Finally. Fuck, finally you said it out loud." He moved closer, his voice rough with emotion. "A year, Y/N? You've been carrying this alone for a year?" His muscular frame seemed to deflate slightly, the anger replaced with genuine pain for what you'd been going through. "And you're right—Korea makes it complicated. Families, reputation, all that bullshit. But you know what's more complicated? Living like this for another five years. Ten years. The rest of your life."    Han's eyes had gone wide, that vulnerability surfacing again. "You wanted us. You said you want us." He moved from the door, approaching you slowly like you were something precious and fragile. "Past tense and present tense, Y/N. And I know—I know—that acting on it feels impossible. But..." He stopped a few feet away, those big eyes searching your face. "What if we're not asking you to blow everything up tonight? What if we're just asking you to let yourself feel something real? Just once? Just here, where no one else will ever know?" 

Chan closed the remaining distance between you, his presence overwhelming in the best way. "Studio 3 is a vault. You said it yourself—what happens here stays here." His hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. "We're not asking you to leave him tomorrow. We're not asking you to destroy your family's reputation. We're asking you to stop punishing yourself for wanting something you're allowed to want." His voice was filled with emotion. "Just this once, Y/N. Let yourself have something that makes you feel alive. Let us give you that."    Changbin moved to your other side, his hand settling on your hip with possessive certainty. "And then you can go home. You can figure out your marriage on your own timeline. You can deal with the families and the complications and all of it." His lips brushed near your ear. "But at least you'll know. You'll know what it feels like to be wanted. To be desired. To have three men who can't fucking think straight because of you."    Han completed the triangle, his hands finding your waist. "No one will ever know, Y/N. Not Jin. Not the company. Not Korea. Just us. Just this moment in this studio where you finally let yourself take what you want instead of what you think you should want." His voice dropped to a whisper. "And if you leave after... if you decide to work it out with Jin... at least you'll know what you're choosing. At least it'll be an informed decision instead of just settling because you're scared of the alternative."    The three of them surrounded you again, but this time it felt less like pressure and more like shelter—like they were offering you a secret space where you could be selfish, where you could want without guilt, where you could just feel without consequences beyond these four walls. And you felt your own restrain waver at it. 

Chan's thumb traced your bottom lip. "We've wanted you for three years, Y/N. Three years of watching, wanting, keeping our distance. Don't make us wait any longer. Don't make yourself suffer any longer." His eyes were dark with desire and something deeper—genuine care, genuine need. "Let us worship you the way you deserve. Just tonight. Just here. And then you decide what comes next."    Changbin's grip on your hip tightened slightly. "Say yes. Say yes to yourself for once. Say yes to feeling something real."    You whimpered slightly at the overwhelming feeling of them around you so close. You couldn’t resist the pull anymore. No matter how much you fought it. Your lips crashed into Chans in a bruising kiss. Hunger and desperation all pooled into it.    He groaned deeply into the kiss, his control shattering the moment your lips met his. One hand slid into your hair, gripping firmly, while the other wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him. He kissed you back with three years of pent-up hunger—nothing gentle, nothing tentative. His tongue swept into your mouth, claiming, tasting, devouring. It was the kiss of a man who'd been starving and finally been offered a feast. 

Changbin pressed against your back, his muscular chest solid and warm. His lips found your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses from your shoulder to just below your ear. "Fuck, finally," he growled against your skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to grip your bare waist. "Do you have any idea how many times I've imagined this? How many nights I've gone home thinking about touching you like this?" His teeth scraped your pulse point before his tongue soothed the sting. You moaned into Chans mouth at the sensation.    Han moved to your side, his nimble fingers already working on the buttons of your shirt with practiced ease. Those big round eyes were blown dark with lust as he watched Chan devour your mouth. "You taste like soju and bad decisions," he murmured, leaning in to kiss along your jaw wherever Chan's mouth wasn't claiming. "My favorite combination." His hand slipped into your open shirt, palming your breast through your bra, thumb brushing over your nipple. "So fucking responsive. I bet you're already soaked, aren't you?"    Chan finally broke the kiss, both of you panting, his pupils blown wide with desire. His lips were swollen, wet from your kiss. "Couch. Now," he commanded, his leader voice roughened with need. "Because I need more room to properly show you what you've been missing." He guided you backwards, Changbin's hands steadying you from behind, until the back of your legs hit the couch.    Changbin's hands hooked into your waistband. "These need to come off. Like, five minutes ago." He worked your pants down over your hips with efficient movements, helping you step out of them before tossing them aside. "Christ, look at you. Look at what we do to you." His hand slid up your inner thigh, deliberately slow, feeling the heat radiating from your core. "I can feel how hot you are from here. Tell us, Y/N. Tell us how wet you are for us." But right now you were so overwhelmed with feelings you couldn't answer properly. 

Han had successfully removed your shirt, now working on your bra with those quick fingers. "Three years," he breathed against your collarbone. "Three years of studio sessions where I had to adjust myself because you bent over to reach something. Three years of imagining what sounds you'd make." The bra came loose and he pulled it away, immediately lowering his mouth to one breast while his hand claimed the other. "Fuck, even better than I imagined." You moaned as you felt his mouth suck on the sensitive skin.    Chan pushed you gently back onto the couch, following you down, his body covering yours. His knee pressed between your thighs, putting delicious pressure where you needed it most. "Tell me you want this," he demanded, his hand sliding down your stomach to the waistband of your underwear. "Say it again. Say you want us. All of us."    Your breath came in ragged gasps as you arched into their touches, overwhelmed by the sensations flooding your body after so long without this kind of desire. You knew this was wrong. That you would regret this later. But desire overpowerd all rational thinking. “Yes... I shouldn’t, but I want you. All three of you. Fuck”. You cursed before you pulled Chan back down for another desperate kiss, your hands fumbling with his shirt. 

Chan captured your mouth again, this kiss somehow even more intense than the first. His tongue tangled with yours as he ground his knee harder between your legs, swallowing your moans. He broke away just long enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing the thick, defined muscles he'd built over years of working out. His hands immediately returned to your body, one sliding down to cup you through your underwear.    "Feel that? Feel how fucking hard you make me?" He pressed his hips against yours, letting you feel the prominent bulge in his pants. "That's three years of wanting you. And I'm going to make sure you remember this for the rest of your life." His fingers hooked into your underwear, pulling them down and off in one swift motion.    Changbin shed his tank top, exposing his impressive physique—all broad shoulders and thick muscles from his dedicated gym routine. He positioned himself at your side, one hand spreading your thigh wider while the other traced teasing patterns on your inner leg. "Look at you, so fucking wet already. I knew it." His fingers finally reached hyour center, sliding through your slick folds. "Jesus Christ, Y/N. You're dripping. Is this all for us? Say it. Tell us who made you this wet." “You did, all of you” You moaned arching into his touch and Chans body above you.    Han had stripped down to his boxers, his newly muscular frame on display along with the tattoos on his chest and side. He captured one of your hands, bringing it to his abs, guiding your touch. "You see what you do to us? All three of us completely fucking gone for you." He leaned down, taking your nipple into his mouth, sucking hard while his hand massaged your other breast. His tongue swirled and flicked, teeth grazing just enough to send sparks of pleasure-pain through you. It drove you nearly insane. 

Chan's fingers joined Changbin's, both of them exploring your wetness, teasing but not yet giving you what you needed. "Tell us what you need," Chan commanded against your lips. "Tell us what Jin never gave you. What you've been fantasizing about." One finger slowly pushed inside you, making you gasp. "Is it this? Or this?" A second finger joined the first, stretching you, finding that spot inside that made you see stars.    Changbin's mouth found your other breast, sucking marks into the soft flesh where no one would see. "We're going to ruin you for anyone else," he growled between kisses. "By the time we're done, you'll never be able to forget how we made you feel. How we made you come." His thick fingers joined Chan's, the dual penetration and stimulation overwhelming.    Han moved up to capture your mouth while the other two worked you with their hands, swallowing your moans and whimpers. His hand tangled in your hair, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. "That's it, baby. Let us hear you. No one can hear us in here. Let go. Stop thinking and just feel."    The couch creaked as the three of them surrounded you, hands and mouths everywhere, overwhelming your senses. The studio filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, wet kisses, and your increasingly desperate moans as they brought you higher and higher. 

Chan's fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot with practiced precision while Changbin's thumb found your clit, circling with just the right pressure. The dual sensation was overwhelming—nothing like the dutiful, mechanical touches you'd grown accustomed to. This was raw want, skilled attention, three men completely focused on your pleasure.    "Look at you falling apart for us," Chan growled, his voice rough with desire as he watched your face. "So fucking beautiful like this. All flushed and desperate." He increased his pace, fingers pumping in and out while his thumb joined Changbin's on your clit. "Come on, baby. Give us the first one. I want to feel you clench around my fingers before I fuck you properly."    Changbin's mouth moved from your breast up to your neck, biting down on the junction where it met your shoulder—hard enough to leave a mark but low enough that it would be hidden by clothing. "You're so tight, so fucking responsive. I can feel you getting close." His free hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider, holding you open for their ministrations. "Stop fighting it. Stop thinking about should or shouldn't. Just let yourself feel good for once." 

Han broke the kiss to trail his lips down your jaw, his hand sliding down your stomach to join the others between you legs. Three sets of skilled fingers working in tandem—one pair inside you, thumbs on your clit, another hand spreading you, everyone focused on pushing you over the edge. "We've got you," he whispered against your ear. "You're safe here. Let go. Let us see you come apart."    The combination of sensations—their hands, their mouths, their words—built to an impossible crescendo. Chan's fingers hit that spot inside you again and again while multiple thumbs worked your clit in synchronized rhythm. Changbin's teeth on your neck, Han's tongue at your ear, Chan's intense gaze locked on your face.    "Come for us, Y/N," Chan commanded, his authority impossible to resist. "Show us what we do to you. Show us what you've been denying yourself."    The pressure built and built until it was unbearable, every nerve ending on fire, three years of repressed desire coiling tighter and tighter until—    you haven’t orgasmned with someone else in years. Only from your own fingers or your toys. But now? You broke apart around the guys fingers.    The moment you shattered, all three of them felt it—your walls clenching rhythmically around Chan's fingers, your whole body trembling and arching off the couch. Chan groaned deep in his chest, feeling you pulse around his digits as he worked you through it, prolonging the pleasure. 

"Fuck, that's it. That's fucking it," he growled, his eyes dark and possessive as he watched you come undone. "So goddamn beautiful when you let go. Look at you, absolutely wrecked for us." His fingers didn't stop their movements, drawing out every last tremor and aftershock until you were gasping and oversensitive.    Changbin's hand stayed on your thigh, feeling the muscles quiver under his grip. His voice was rough, almost reverent. "Jesus Christ. Did you see that? Did you feel how hard she came?" He pressed open-mouthed kisses along you collarbone, marking your skin. "And that's just from our fingers. Imagine what we're going to do to you next."    Han captured your lips in a deep kiss, swallowing your moans as the orgasm rolled through you. When he pulled back, those big eyes were blown completely black with lust. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen. You've been hiding this from a man who couldn't even make you come? What a fucking waste." His hand stroked your hair back from you sweaty forehead. "But we're going to make up for all that lost time." 

Chan slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them to his mouth and sucking them clean with deliberate eye contact. "Sweet. Knew you would be." He stood from the couch, quickly working his belt and pants open. "But that was just the warm-up. I need to be inside you. Need to feel you come around my cock." His pants hit the floor, his boxers following, revealing how painfully hard he was.    Changbin moved to remove his own pants, his muscular thighs and impressive erection on full display. "We're going to take turns with you. Going to pass you between us until you can't remember your own name, let alone his." His hand stroked himself slowly. "You good with that? Tell us you want all of us."    Han shed his boxers, his own arousal evident, those tattoos on full display—the one on his chest and the one on his side that you'd only glimpsed before. "Say yes again, Y/N. Tell us you want this. Want us."    The three of them stood around you, fully naked, fully erect, waiting for your permission to take this to the next level. The sight alone was overwhelming—three different but equally attractive bodies, all clearly desperate for you.    Chan's hand wrapped around his length, stroking slowly. "Last chance to stop this. But I really hope you don't." 

You breathed hard, still trembling from the aftershocks, eyes wide as you take in the sight of all three of them naked and ready. Your voice comes out breathy, needy. “Yes... I want all of you. Please, don't stop now. It’s too late anyway”    Chan's eyes darkened impossibly further at your words, a predatory smile crossing his lips. "Too late. Yeah, it fucking is." He positioned himself between your legs, gripping your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the couch. "And I'm glad it is, because I've waited three goddamn years for this." He lined himself up, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. "Look at me. I want to see your face when I fill you up for the first time."    When your eyes locked, Chan pushed forward in one smooth, deep thrust, bottoming out inside you with a guttural groan. "Fuck. Fuck, you feel incredible." He stilled for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size, his jaw clenched with the effort of maintaining control. "So tight. So perfect. Like you were made for us."    Changbin moved to your side, his hand gripping your jaw and turning your face toward him for a bruising kiss while Chan started to move. "That's it, take him. Take all of him." His free hand found your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You moaned into his mouth "Can you feel how deep he is? How he's stretching you? Just wait until it's my turn. I'm going to ruin you." 

Han positioned himself on your other side, guiding your hand to wrap around his length. "Touch me while he fucks you. Want to feel your hand on me." He groaned when your fingers closed around him, his hips bucking into your grip. "Fuck yes, just like that. You're so good at this, so fucking good for us."    Chan's pace increased, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. "This is what you've been missing. This is what you deserve—to be fucked like you actually matter, like you're wanted." Each thrust was punctuated by his words, driving deeper. "Tell me. Tell me how good it feels."    The studio filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, your combined moans and groans, the creak of the couch. Changbin's mouth moved to your neck, sucking more marks while his hand worked your breast. Han's breath came in short gasps as you stroked him, his free hand tangling in your hair.    "Fuck, I'm not going to last long," Chan admitted, his rhythm becoming more erratic. "You feel too good. Too fucking perfect." One hand moved between you, finding your oversensitive clit. "But you're coming with me. Come on, baby. Give me another one. Show me what I do to you." 

The combination of Chan's cock hitting that perfect spot inside you, his fingers on your clit, Changbin's mouth and hands on your breasts and neck, Han's length in you hand and his lips on your shoulder—it was sensory overload in the best way. Building you back up to that impossible peak again.    "That's it," Changbin growled against your skin. "Can feel you tensing up again. You're so close, aren't you? Going to come all over Chan's cock while you stroke Han and I watch? So fucking hot."    Your body arches off the couch, overwhelmed by Chan's relentless pace and the hands and mouths everywhere, the second orgasm crashing over you like a wave, making you hard around him as you cry out their names.”Oh god, yes... don't stop, none of you...”    Chan's control shattered the moment he felt you clench around him, your walls milking his cock as you cried out. With a guttural groan, he buried himself as deep as possible, his hips jerking as he came hard inside you. "Fuck, Y/N... fuck..." His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he emptied himself, his whole body trembling with the intensity.    Changbin watched with dark, hungry eyes, his hand stroking himself slowly as he witnessed Chan finish. "My turn. Now." He didn't wait for Chan to fully pull out before positioning himself, his muscular frame radiating impatience. "On your hands and knees. I want to take you from behind."    Han helped guide your still-trembling body into position, his cock hard and leaking in your hand. "You look so fucking good like this. Completely wrecked and still wanting more." He positioned himself in front of you, the head of his cock level with your mouth. "Think you can handle both of us at once? Want to feel those pretty lips around me while Changbin fucks you?" 

Changbin gripped your hips roughly, positioning himself at your entrance—slick with your arousal and Chan's release. "You're already full of him and I'm about to add to it. Fuck, that's hot." He pushed in with one hard thrust, groaning at how wet and ready you were. "God damn, you feel even better than I imagined. So warm, so wet, so fucking perfect."    Chan had collapsed back on the couch, chest heaving, watching the scene unfold with satisfaction and renewed arousal already building. "Look at you taking both of you so well. Made for this. Made for us."    Changbin set a brutal pace immediately, his thickness stretching you differently than Chan had, hitting new angles that made stars burst behind your eyes. "That's it, baby. Take it. Take everything we give you." One hand reached around to play with your clit while the other gripped your hip for leverage. "You've been so good, so responsive. Going to fill you up just like Chan did." 

Han threaded his fingers through your hair gently but firmly, guiding your mouth to his length. "Open up for me, beautiful. Want to feel that tongue." When your lips parted, he pushed in slowly, groaning at the wet heat of your mouth. "Fuck yes, just like that. You're taking both of us so perfectly."    The position had you completely surrounded—Changbin pounding into you from behind, Han in your mouth, Chan watching and touching himself again as he recovered. The sound of Changbin's hips slapping against your ass filled the studio, mixed with your muffled moans and groans.    "You like this, don't you?" Changbin growled, his pace never faltering. "Being used by all three of us. Being the center of our attention. This is what you needed—to be worshipped and fucked properly." His fingers worked your clit in tight circles. "Going to make you come again. Going to feel you squeeze around me while you choke on Han's cock."    Han's hips started moving, gently fucking your mouth while being careful not to go too deep. "So good, baby. Your mouth feels amazing." His big eyes watched your face, full of lust and something deeper. "Look up at me. Want to see those eyes while I'm in your throat."    The overwhelming sensations built again—Changbin's thick cock stretching you, his fingers on your clit, Han's length in your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue, Chan's heated gaze watching it all. It was dirty, wrong, perfect, everything you'd been denying yourself.    Changbin's rhythm became more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he felt his own climax approaching. "Shit, I'm close. So fucking close." His fingers moved faster on your clit, determined to make you come one more time before he finished. "Come on, baby. Give me one more. Squeeze me like you squeezed Chan." 

Han's breathing grew ragged as your mouth worked him, your tongue doing wicked things despite being distracted by what Changbin was doing to you. "That's it, take more," he encouraged, his hand gentle but guiding in your hair. "Love watching you like this—split between us, completely fucking wrecked." His thumb brushed your cheek tenderly, a contrast to the raw sexuality of the moment.    Chan had moved closer again, his hand wrapping around his renewed erection as he watched. "Look at you. Absolutely destroyed in the best way. This is what she needed—three men who actually know how to appreciate you." His free hand reached out to stroke your back, adding another layer of sensation. "You're doing so well, taking everything we give you."    The combination of Changbin's relentless thrusts, his skilled fingers, Han filling your mouth, and Chan's touch and words pushed you toward another peak. Your body was oversensitive, every nerve ending singing with pleasure-pain as they drove you higher.    "I can feel you getting close again," Changbin panted, his muscular body starting to shake with the effort of holding back. "Come for me. Come all over my cock while Han's in your mouth. Let go, Y/N. Show us." 

When you clenched around him, Changbin lost it completely, burying himself deep and coming with a roar. "Fuck, yes, take it all!" His hips jerked erratically as he emptied himself inside you, adding to Chan's earlier release.    The sight and sound of Changbin finishing pushed Han over the edge. His grip tightened in your hair as he groaned. "Y/N, I'm—fuck—" He tried to pull back to give you the choice, but you took him deeper, and he came with a strangled cry, spilling down your throat. "Holy shit, that's perfect, you're perfect..."    All four of them collapsed in a tangle of sweaty limbs, breathing heavily. Changbin pulled out carefully, both men's releases dripping down your thighs. The evidence of what they'd done impossible to ignore.    Chan reached for some tissues from the side table, gently cleaning you up with surprising tenderness. "You okay?" His voice was softer now, genuine concern mixing with satisfaction. "That was... intense."    You collapses against the couch, body spent and trembling from multiple orgasms, a mix of satisfaction and dawning guilt washing over you. “That was... incredible. But I’m gonna hate myself for that later” “ you whispered quietly.    The three of them exchanged glances at your words, the post-orgasmic haze starting to clear. Chan pulled you gently into his arms, his touch still possessive but now comforting. "Hey, no. Don't do that yet. Don't let the guilt in yet." He pressed a kiss to your temple. "What happened here—that was real. That was honest. More honest than anything you've done in months, probably." 

Changbin found his boxers and pulled them on before settling next to you, his large hand rubbing circles on your back. "You're going to overthink this. I can already see it happening in your head." His voice was gentler than usual, that directness tempered with understanding. "But Y/N, you didn't betray anyone just now. You were already gone from that marriage. This just made it impossible to pretend anymore."    Han curled up on your other side, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders—always the caretaker even now. "The guilt you're feeling? That's not about what we just did. That's about finally admitting what you've known for a while." He tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. "You can't go back to pretending after this. And that's scary. But it's not wrong."    Chan's arms tightened around you. "What happens next is up to you. We're not going to pressure you about Jin, about your marriage, about any of it." He paused, his next words carefully chosen. "But we're also not going to pretend this didn't happen. That we don't want you. That you don't want us."    Changbin leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. "This stays between us. What happens in Studio 3 stays in Studio 3—you have our word on that. No one will ever know." His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together. "But you owe it to yourself—and honestly, to Jin too—to stop living a lie. Whether that means being with us or just being free of a marriage that doesn't work... that's your choice." 

Han stroked your hair gently. "You're allowed to want things, Y/N. You're allowed to choose yourself. That doesn't make you a bad person—it makes you human." He smiled softly. "And for what it's worth? We think you're pretty fucking amazing. Have for three years. This just confirmed it."    The studio was quiet except for your breathing, the intensity of moments before replaced with an unexpected intimacy. Chan spoke again, his voice low and sincere. "Whatever you decide to do tomorrow, next week, next month—we're here. Not just for this, but as friends. As people who care about you."    Changbin added, "And if you do decide to work things out with Jin, try to make your marriage work... we'll respect that. It'll hurt like hell, but we'll respect it." His jaw tightened. "But at least now you know what you're choosing to stay for or choosing to leave behind."    “How could I go back to him and work it out after this? After you just showed me how it could feel to be desired. But even if I end things with him. What then?” You ask voice shaking. But not pulling away from Chan.    His grip on you tightened, his breath warm against your hair as he processed your question. When he spoke, his voice carried that leader quality—decisive, protective, real. "What then? Then you figure out what you actually want. Not what your family wants, not what society expects, not what looks good on paper—what you want." He pulled back slightly to look at your face. "And maybe that's us. Maybe it's not. Maybe you need time to just be alone and figure out who Y/N is outside of being someone's wife."    Changbin shifted closer, his muscular frame creating a protective barrier. "But here's what I know—you can't unfeel this. You can't pretend tonight didn't show you that you're capable of wanting someone, of being desired, of feeling alive." His thumb traced circles on your hand. "Whether that's with us or someone else eventually... you deserve to feel like this. Not guilty, not obligated—just wanted." 

Han's big eyes were serious, more thoughtful than playful now. "The three of us... we've talked about you. A lot. More than we probably should have." He glanced at Chan and Changbin before continuing. "And yeah, we want you. All three of us want you. But not as some secret side piece you feel guilty about. Not as a way to escape a bad marriage." He cupped your face gently. "If you leave him, you take time. You figure your shit out. You deal with the family drama and the divorce and all of it. And then—"    Chan interrupted, his voice firm. "And then if you still want us, we'll be here. All three of us, or individually, or however you need us to be." His hand slid into your hair. "Because this—" he gestured between the four of you "—this isn't just about sex. We've wanted you for three years. Your laugh, your perfectionism, the way you light up when a track comes together perfectly. All of it."    Changbin leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. "So what then? You end things with Jin properly. You face the stress with your families. You take some time to breathe and figure out what you actually want your life to look like." He pulled back to meet your eyes. "And we'll be waiting. Working with you, being your friends, giving you space to heal. And when you're ready—if you're ready—we'll show you every day what we showed you tonight."    Han added softly, "You don't have to have all the answers right now, Y/N. You just need to make one decision—to stop lying to yourself and to Jin. Everything else can come later." 

The three of them created a cocoon around you, their presence both overwhelming and comforting. Chan's next words were gentle but honest. "Tomorrow is going to suck. You're going to go home and it's going to feel impossible. But you're stronger than you think. And you're not alone anymore—you have us, whatever that ends up meaning."    You nodded at their words. “I’ll talk to him. You are right. I have to. I can’t keep pretending that we can make it work. But not tonight. If I go home now looking and smelling like that. It will be disastrous. I talk to him tomorrow with a clear head. Seriously. God he deserves so much more.” you let out emotional.    Chan nodded approvingly, his hand stroking through your hair in a soothing gesture. "Good. That's the right call—going home like this would just make everything messier." He glanced at his watch. "It's already past midnight anyway. Stay here tonight. We have the couch, and I can grab some spare clothes from the stylists room." His protective instinct was in full force now. "Text Jin that you fell asleep at the studio working late. It's happened before, right?"    Changbin was already moving, grabbing his phone. "I'll order food. You need to eat something—we all do. Can't have important conversations on an empty stomach tomorrow." His practicality cutting through the emotional weight. "And yeah, he deserves honesty. Better late than never. But so do you, Y/N. You deserve to not spend the rest of your life pretending." 

Han had already found a spare blanket and was making the couch more comfortable, his caretaker mode activated. "There's a shower in the studio bathroom down the hall. Small, but functional. You should clean up and put on fresh clothes." He looked at you with those sincere eyes. "And we'll be right here. Not going anywhere. You're not facing this alone."    Chan pulled out his phone, typing quickly. "I'm texting the group chat—letting the other members know we're pulling an all-nighter on the track. They won't question it." He looked back at you. "Your alibi is solid. No one will know you were anything but working."    Changbin returned with his phone. "Fried chicken is on the way. Should be here in twenty minutes." He sat back down next to you, his presence grounding. "And tomorrow, after you talk to Jin, take the day off. Hell, take the week off. Tell the company you need personal time. They owe you about a million vacation days anyway."    Han handed you his oversized hoodie and some sweatpants. "These'll be big on you, but they're clean and comfortable." He smiled softly. "And they smell like fabric softener, not like... well, not like what just happened here." 

Pairing: idol!changbin x producer!reader (f)

Genre: work rivals to lovers, pure smut (18+ Minors do not interact!)

Summary: You and Changbin are work rivals. Constantly fighting with each other. But there was always that spark between you, that tension. And you needed to do something about it.

Warnings: 18+, smut, NSFW, unprotected sex, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving)

Words: 9k

Authors note: this has basically no real plot. And I may have overdone the smut part a bit but sue me. I was in a mood.

You and Changbin are colleagues. You were a producer at JYP. Everyone always loved him. But you? You were constantly annoyed by him. Just because he was loud and pushy, everyone listened to him even though you said the exact same thing just a few minutes ago. Over the months it turned into a real rivalry. But there was always that heat underneath the surface, none of you could quite shake off. So to deal with it you always fought with each other. Always argued over everything. But now? Now you needed his help. And you hated all about it.

You were at a restaurant with a blind date that a friend set you up with. And he was horrible. Annoying. Not in a way like Changbin was, but he actually makes you cringe. He was talking non stop. About his mother, his friends and his pet bird. Who has a pet bird? He didn't even ask you a question. He was just talking nonstop about himself. You just wanted out but you also didn’t want to be rude. That’s when you saw Changbin. Sitting at a table across the room with his friends. He saw you too. Watched you from his table. Saw how you were desperately looking for an escape. And he loved every second of it, seeing you desperate.

When you locked eyes with him he smirked sadistically at you. You glared back at him. But his smirk just widened as he caught your desperate glare from across the restaurant. The way your jaw clenched and your eyes narrowed at him only made this situation more entertaining for him. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his muscular arms over his chest as he watched you squirm while your date droned on, completely oblivious to your discomfort.

His friends were laughing and talking around him, but he wasn't paying attention to them anymore. No, watching you struggle was far more interesting than whatever story they were telling. He took a slow sip of his drink, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time, that infuriating smirk never leaving his face.

When he saw you mouth something that looked suspiciously like "help me," he raised an eyebrow mockingly. Oh, this was too good. The great Y/N, who always acted like she had everything under control, who challenged him at every turn in the studio, was now silently begging him for assistance. He tapped his fingers on the table, deliberately taking his time, making you sweat it out a bit more before he finally stood up from his seat.

"I'll be right back," he mumbled to his friends, not waiting for their response as he started walking toward your table with confident strides. His black t-shirt stretched across his broad chest and shoulders as he moved, drawing attention from several tables he passed.

You couldn’t believe he actually came over. Now the question was will he make it worse for you, just to see you struggle or actually help you?

Changbin approached your table with that same cocky smirk plastered on his face, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He stopped right beside you, close enough that you could smell his cologne - something woodsy and masculine that he always wore to the studio. Your date finally stopped mid-sentence, looking up at this muscular stranger who had suddenly appeared.

Without asking for permission, Changbin placed a possessive hand on your shoulder, his fingers warm through the fabric of your top. He squeezed gently, and you could feel the strength in just that simple touch - a reminder of all those hours he spent in the gym that he never shut up about. "Baby, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you," he said with such convincing concern that even you almost believed him for a second.

He turned his attention to your date, his expression shifting to something more serious, more territorial. "I'm sorry, but who are you exactly? And why are you having dinner with my girlfriend?" His voice dropped lower, taking on that commanding tone he used during studio sessions when he wanted something done his way. The hand on your shoulder tightened slightly, and you knew he was enjoying every second of this - having you completely at his mercy, dependent on him to play along.

That asshole. You closed your eyes in frustration. You should have known that he would embarrass you and make you look like the bad guy. While clearly enjoying every second of it.

Your date's face went pale, his eyes widening as he looked between you and Changbin's imposing figure. "G-girlfriend? But she said she was single..."

Well great, how should you turn that around. You really didn’t want that date to continue but you also didn't want to sit here looking like a cheater. Then you got an idea. „I‘m sorry I just wanted to see if you are actually that interesting as my friend said. I think she likes you. The one that hooked us up“ you said to your date „She actually send me, to check you out. Kinda like a test before she finally has the courage to ask you out yourself“

You knew that your friend will be mad at you but you wanted to get back at her anyway. Asking why she set you up with such an annoying guy. So clearly she deserved it.

Changbin had to bite back a laugh at your quick thinking, impressed despite himself at how you turned this around. His hand slid from your shoulder down your arm before he grabbed your wrist firmly, tugging you up from your seat. "Well, now that you've done your little investigation, we're leaving," He said, not giving you much choice in the matter as he practically pulled you away from the table.

Your confused date sat there stammering, but Changbin didn't give him a chance to process what just happened. He guided you through the restaurant with his hand possessively on the small of your back, steering you toward the exit. Once you were outside in the cool evening air, he finally let out that laugh he'd been holding in, the sound loud and rumbling from his chest.

"God, you should have seen your face in there. You looked like you wanted to crawl under the table and die," he teased, his dark eyes dancing with amusement as he looked down at you. He was standing close - too close - invading your personal space like he always did when he wanted to get under your skin. "And that excuse? Really? You think he bought that?" You glared at him, stepping back to get some space.

He crossed his arms, his biceps flexing with the movement, and tilted his head. "So... you gonna thank me for saving your ass, or are we just gonna pretend like you didn't practically beg me with your eyes to come over there?" His smirk returned, challenging and infuriating as always. "Because from where I was sitting, it looked like you needed me pretty desperately."

You crossed your arms defiantly „You asshole! You think telling him you are my boyfriend is helping? It made me look like the bad guy. And don’t flatter yourself. If your friends would have looked my way, I would have begged them to help me too. You were just in my eye side. I definitely did not need YOU desperately“

Changbin's jaw tightened at the mention of his friends, something dark flashing in his eyes. He stepped forward, closing the distance you'd just created between you, backing you up until your back hit the cool brick wall of the restaurant. "Oh really? My friends?" he growled, placing one muscular arm against the wall beside your head, effectively caging you in. "That's funny, because they were sitting right next to me, and you weren't looking at them. You were looking at ME."

He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours now, his breath warm against your skin. The heat between you that always simmered during your arguments in the studio was now blazing hot, undeniable in this intimate proximity. "And you know what else is funny? You could have just excused yourself to the bathroom. You could have faked a phone call. But instead, you sat there squirming in your seat, and the first person you looked to for help was me. Your so-called rival."

His free hand came up, fingers gripping your chin firmly, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. His touch was commanding, possessive, and sent an unwelcome shiver down your spine. "Face it, Y/N. Whether you want to admit it or not, there's something between us that goes way beyond this little rivalry we've got going on. I see the way you look at me in the studio when you think I'm not paying attention."

He pressed his body closer, his muscular chest almost touching yours now, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "So here's what's gonna happen. You're gonna thank me properly for saving you from that disaster of a date, and then we're gonna address this tension that's been driving us both crazy for months."

You tried to hold the heat in your eyes back. Glaring up at him instead „Aww so you admit that I drive you crazy? That’s cute“ you mock him „and I’m definitely not looking at you in any other way than pure annoyance Seo Changbin. Because that’s what you are. Annoying.“

His eyes darkened at your mockery, his grip on your chin tightening slightly. A low, dangerous chuckle rumbled from his chest as he pressed even closer, eliminating any remaining space between your bodies. You could feel the solid warmth of his muscular frame against yours, the hard planes of his chest through the thin fabric of his shirt. And you tried to ignore how it made your core clench.

"Annoying? That's all you've got?" He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Because from where I'm standing, your body is saying something completely different. Your pupils are dilated, your breathing is getting faster, and I can feel your pulse racing under my fingers."

His hand slid from your chin down to your throat, not squeezing but resting there possessively, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin where your pulse hammered. "You know what I think? I think you use this rivalry as an excuse because you're too proud to admit you want me. Every argument, every glare, every time you challenge me in the studio - it's all just foreplay to you, isn't it?"

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own burning with intensity and something much more primal. "Tell me I'm wrong. Tell me you don't think about what it would be like if I pushed you against the studio wall and kissed you until you couldn't remember your own name. Tell me you've never wondered what these hands could do to you." His fingers flexed against your throat for emphasis.

You pulse involuntarily quickened at his grip on your throat and you clenched your thighs together. Your eyes briefly slipped to his lips that were so close in front of you. But you quickly looked him back in the eyes. „In your dreams Seo Changbin. You think too highly of yourself. Like always“ You whispered trying to hold yourself together. You pushed him off of you, quickly walking away from him. You tried to steady yourself and called back over your shoulder „thanks for helping me. I will get you coffee as a thank you. Good night delulu king“ And with that you quickly jumped into a taxi. Finally being able to breath for the first time, when it drove away.

Changbin stood there for a moment, watching the taxi disappear into the night traffic, his chest still heaving from the intensity of what just happened. He ran his hand through his dark hair, a knowing smirk spreading across his face. He'd seen that look in your eyes - the way they'd flickered to his lips, the way your thighs had pressed together. You could deny it all you wanted, but your body had betrayed you.

"Delulu king, huh?" he muttered to himself with a dark chuckle, heading back inside to rejoin his friends. But his mind wasn't on them anymore - it was replaying the feeling of your racing pulse under his fingers, the heat of your body against his, the challenge in your eyes even when you were clearly affected.

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The next morning at the studio, Changbin arrived earlier than usual, knowing you always came in early to avoid running into him. He was already in the recording booth when you walked in, coffee in hand as promised. He looked up from the mixing board, that infuriating smirk already on his face.

"Morning, Y/N. Sleep well? Or were you too busy thinking about your 'annoying' rival?" he called out, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his tank top showing off his muscular arms. "I know I slept great. Had some very interesting dreams about stubborn producers who can't admit what they really want."

He stood up and walked toward you, his movements deliberate and predatory. "Thanks for the coffee, by the way. But we both know that's not the 'thank you' I want."

You glared at him. Your signature look for him. Pressing the coffee into his hand roughly „It’s the only thank you you will get. And I slept perfectly fine. Thanks for asking“ you said through gritted teeth, already feeling annoyed by him this early in the morning. And slightly irritated in a different way. But you definitely wouldn't admit that to him.

He took the coffee from your hand, his fingers deliberately brushing against yours as he did so, holding the contact a moment longer than necessary. He took a slow sip, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time, before setting the cup down on the nearby table.

"Liar," he said simply, taking a step closer to you. The studio was empty this early - just the two of you, which made the tension between you feel even more suffocating. "You know what I realized last night after you ran away? You always run. Every time things get too real between us, every time I get too close to breaking through that defensive wall you put up, you bolt."

He moved closer still, backing you up against the soundboard, his hands coming to rest on either side of you, trapping you between his arms. "But here's the thing - you keep coming back. You could have requested to work on different projects, could have asked to be moved to a different studio, but you didn't. Because as much as you claim to hate me, you can't stay away."

His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "I've been patient, Y/N. I've played this little game with you for months. But after last night, after feeling how your body responded to me, after seeing that look in your eyes - I'm done being patient." One of his hands moved from the soundboard to your waist, gripping firmly. "So here's what's going to happen. You're going to stop lying to yourself and to me, and you're going to admit what we both know is true."

He leaned in, his lips hovering just centimeters from yours. "Or I'm going to make you admit it."

You held your breath. Looking at his lips before snapping back to his eyes „And how are you planning on doing that? By being your loud annoying self? Because that won’t work“ you whispered.

A dark, predatory smile spread across Changbin's face at your challenge. His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him so you could feel every hard plane of his muscular body pressed against yours. "Oh baby, I have much more effective methods than just being loud."

His other hand came up to tangle in your hair, gripping firmly at the base of your skull and tilting your head back to force you to meet his intense gaze. "See, I know exactly what buttons to push with you. I've been watching you for months - studying you. I know that when you're frustrated, you bite your lower lip. I know that when you're turned on, you get that little flush on your chest that creeps up your neck." His eyes dropped to your collarbone meaningfully. "Just like you have right now."

Without warning, his lips crashed against yours in a demanding, dominant kiss. It wasn't gentle or asking for permission - it was claiming, possessive, designed to steal your breath and your resistance. And god it worked. His tongue swept into your mouth as he used his grip on your hair to control the angle, kissing you deeply, thoroughly, until your knees went weak.

When he finally pulled back just enough to let you breathe, your hand gripped his shirt. Trying to hold onto something. His lips moved to your ear.

"Still think I'm just annoying?" he growled, his free hand sliding down from your waist to grip your hip possessively. "Because your body is telling me something very different. You're trembling, your breathing is ragged, and I can feel your heart pounding against my chest."

He nipped at your earlobe before trailing hot kisses down your neck. "Admit it. Say you want me, or I swear I'll take you right here on this soundboard and make you scream my name so loud the whole building will hear."

You whined quietly. „Shit Changbin you can’t just…can’t do that. Can’t even say that. Fuck“ But a moan escaped your lips when he reached a particular sensitive spot on your neck, revealing just how much you wanted this. You were shocked by yourself and used that momentum to push him off you. Again. He stumbled back slightly.

With a pointed finger at him you said breathlessly „Are you crazy? Here? Anyone could walk in at any moment“ and like they have been summoned by you, Chan and Han entered the studio at this moment, stopping mid chat when they saw you two.

Changbins chest was heaving and his lips were swollen from the kiss. His dark eyes were still burning with desire and frustration, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he tried to regain his composure. The tent in his pants was obvious, and he made no effort to hide it.

Chan and Han froze in the doorway, their eyes darting between you two, taking in your disheveled appearance - your flushed face, kiss-swollen lips, and the way you were both breathing hard. The tension in the room was so thick it could be cut with a knife.

"Uh... are we interrupting something?" Chan asked carefully, his eyebrows raised as he looked between his two producers who were supposedly rivals.

Changbin ran his hand through his hair roughly, never taking his eyes off you. "Yes, actually. You are," he said bluntly, his voice still husky with desire. "We were in the middle of a very important... discussion."

Han snorted, clearly not buying it. "Discussion? Is that what we're calling it now? Because it looked like—"

"Han. Not now," Changbin cut him off sharply, his dominant producer voice coming through. But his attention immediately returned to you, his jaw clenched with barely restrained desire. "This isn't over, Y/N. Not even close. We're finishing this conversation later - somewhere private where you can't use interruptions as an excuse to run away again."

He grabbed his jacket from the chair and stormed toward the door, but not before stopping right beside you, leaning down to whisper in your ear low enough that only you could hear. "And next time, I won't stop. I don't care who walks in."

Your cheeks burned as you avoided Chan's and Han's curious stares, fingers still tingling from gripping Changbin's shirt.

When he returned later he looked more composed. But he ignored you for the rest of the day. Afraid he would snap any minute.

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When you were home later that night you could still fell that kiss on your lips. The way he grabbed you. His hands on your waist. Fuck. You needed it bad. Needed him bad. But you had too much pride to let him win this easily.

So you tried to take the tension off by yourself but nothing you did worked. Not even your favorite toy. You groaned in frustration. Shit maybe he was right. Maybe you two should just fuck that tension out between you. You were adults. You could have sex and go back to being coworkers right? That has nothing to do with pride. Doesn't mean he wins. At least then it wouldn’t be so god damn aggravating at work.

You pulled out your phone and texted Changbin: „listen you may be right. That tension between us? It’s annoying. So ok here's my suggestion: let’s just fuck it out of our system and then go back to work more civilized. If you are in - you know where I live. I’m awake. Door code is 7935. It’s up to you now“ you hit send and slammed the phone down on your bed. You just either destroyed everything between you guys or made this work rivalry way more interesting.

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Changbin had been at the gym, working out his frustration with punishing sets of weights, when his phone buzzed. He was mid-rep on the bench press when he saw your name on the screen. Dropping the barbell back onto the rack with a loud clang that made other gym-goers turn and stare, he grabbed his phone and read your message.

His eyes darkened as he read it once, twice, three times. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. He didn't even bother changing out of his workout clothes - just grabbed his jacket and keys, typed out a quick response as he headed to his car.

"I'll be there in 15 minutes. And Y/N? When I get there, that attitude of yours better be gone. Tonight, you're going to learn what happens when you finally stop running from me."

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True to his word, exactly fifteen minutes later, you heard your door code being punched in. The door opened and he walked in, still in his grey tank top that was damp with sweat, clinging to every defined muscle of his torso. His dark hair was slightly messy, his chest still heaving slightly from his workout - or maybe from anticipation. His eyes found you immediately, and the look in them was pure hunger.

He locked the door behind him deliberately, the click sounding loud in the quiet of your apartment. Then he stalked toward you like a predator approaching prey, shrugging off his jacket and dropping it carelessly on the floor.

"So," he said, his voice low and rough, "you finally admit you want me. Took you long enough." He stopped right in front of you, reaching out to grab your chin firmly, tilting your face up to look at him. "But let's get something straight right now - this isn't going to be some quick fuck to 'get it out of our system.' I've been wanting you for too long to settle for that."

His other hand slid around your waist, pulling you against his still-pumped, sweaty body. "When I'm done with you tonight, you're going to know exactly who you belong to. And tomorrow at the studio? Things are definitely not going back to normal."

His lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss, all the pent-up tension from months of rivalry and denied attraction pouring into it. When you pulled back from the kiss just enough to look into his intense eyes, you voice was breathy and challenging.

“You talk a big game, Seo. Prove it. Take me to bed and fuck me like you've been dreaming about. But don't think this changes anything at work... unless you make it worth it.” Your fingers tugged at the hem of his tank top, pulling it up teasingly.

Changbin's eyes flashed dangerously at your challenge, a growl rumbling deep in his chest. In one swift motion, he grabbed your thighs and lifted you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the nearest wall. His strength was evident - he held you up effortlessly, as if you weighed nothing.

"Worth it? Baby, by the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk straight tomorrow. Everyone at the studio will know exactly what happened between us just by looking at you," he growled against your lips before capturing them in another searing kiss. His hips ground against yours, letting you feel exactly how hard he was for you through his gym shorts.

He carried you toward your bedroom, his lips never leaving yours, kissing you deeply, possessively. When he reached the bed, instead of laying you down gently, he threw you onto it with enough force to make you bounce slightly. He stood at the edge of the bed, his chest heaving, his muscles still pumped from his workout and glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

"Strip," he commanded, his voice dropping to that authoritative tone he used in the studio when he wanted something done immediately. "Slowly. I want to see every inch of what's been driving me crazy for months." His hands went to the hem of his tank top, slowly peeling it off to reveal his sculpted torso - defined abs, thick pecs, and muscular arms that flexed with every movement.

"And Y/N?" He leaned down, bracing his hands on either side of you, his face inches from yours. "Stop thinking this won't change anything. After tonight, you're mine. At work, outside of work - everywhere. I don't share, and I sure as hell don't do casual."

Your eyes darkened with desire as you sat up on the bed, slowly peeling off your top to reveal lace lingerie underneath, gaze locked on his. “Yours, huh? Prove it then. Show me how much you want to own this,” you challenged breathlessly, lying back and spreading your legs teasingly.

His eyes raked over your body hungrily, taking in the sight of the lace lingerie that left little to the imagination. A low, appreciative growl escaped his throat as he watched you spread your legs for him. His hands went to his gym shorts, shoving them down along with his boxer briefs in one swift motion, freeing his thick, hard cock that had been straining against the fabric.

"Oh, I'm going to prove it alright," he said darkly, climbing onto the bed and positioning himself between your spread legs. His rough, calloused hands slid up your thighs, gripping them firmly and spreading them even wider. "But first, I'm going to taste what's been teasing me for months."

Without warning, he hooked his fingers into your panties and ripped them off completely, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room. He tossed the ruined lace aside and stared at your exposed cunt, licking his lips. "Fuck, look how wet you already are for me. All that time you spent acting like you hated me, and your body was begging for this."

He lowered his head between your thighs, his hot breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh before his tongue dragged a long, slow lick from your entrance to your clit. He groaned at the taste of you, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure through your body. "You taste even better than I imagined," he murmured against your pussy before diving in properly, his tongue working your clit with expert precision while two of his thick fingers pushed inside you.

His free hand gripped your hip bruisingly hard, holding you in place as he devoured you, his fingers curling to hit that spot inside you that made you see stars. He pulled back just long enough to look up at you with dark, lust-filled eyes. "Come on my face, Y/N. I want to taste every drop before I fuck you senseless."

Your back arched off the bed, hands flying to his hair as you moaned loudly. “Fuck, Bin... right there, don't stop!” Your hips bucked against his mouth, chasing the building pleasure.

Changbin doubled his efforts at your moans, his fingers pumping faster inside you while his tongue circled your clit relentlessly. His muscular arm wrapped around your thigh, holding you down as you tried to buck against him. He could feel you getting closer - your walls clenching around his fingers, your breathing becoming more erratic.

"That's it, baby. Let go. Scream my name," he growled against your pussy before sucking your clit between his lips while his fingers curled hard against that sweet spot inside you. His other hand moved from your hip to roughly palm your breast through your bra, squeezing and kneading.

When he felt you right on the edge, he added a third finger, stretching you, preparing you for his thick cock while his tongue worked you mercilessly. He looked up at you from between your thighs, the sight of you falling apart because of him only making him harder. His cock was throbbing, leaking precum onto your sheets, desperate to be inside you.

"Come now, Y/N. Come all over my face so I can fuck this tight pussy and make you mine," he commanded, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh as he sucked hard on your clit one more time.

You came hard and suddenly. All the pent up desire crashing over you in an agonizing wave. The moment he felt your orgasm hit, he didn't let up, working you through it until you were trembling and oversensitive. Only then did he pull back, his face glistening with your arousal. He licked his lips slowly, savoring your taste, before crawling up your body.

"Now," he positioned himself at your entrance, the thick head of his cock pressing against your still-pulsing pussy, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll feel me for days. And every time you sit down at the studio tomorrow, you'll remember exactly who owns this body."

With one powerful thrust, he buried himself completely inside you, not giving you time to adjust to his size. You gasped at the sudden fullness, body arching up to meet his thrust.

“Fuck yes! Just like that... don't hold back, I can take it. Ruin me, Bin.” Your hands roamed over his sweaty muscles, urging him on with desperate scratches down his back.

He groaned at the feeling of your tight heat enveloping his cock and the sting of your nails on his back only spurred him on. He pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a brutal, punishing pace that had the headboard banging against the wall with each powerful thrust.

"Fuck, you're so tight. Taking my cock so well," he growled, his hips pistoning relentlessly. One hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises while the other wrapped around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel owned, dominated. "This is what you've been craving, isn't it? All those arguments, all that attitude - you just wanted me to put you in your place."

He leaned down, biting and sucking at your neck, marking you deliberately as his cock continued its relentless assault on your pussy. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room along with your moans and his grunts of pleasure. "Everyone at work is going to see these marks tomorrow. They're going to know you're mine."

He suddenly pulled out, flipping you over onto your stomach roughly before pulling your hips up so you were on your hands and knees. His hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack before he thrust back inside you from behind, somehow going even deeper in this position. You moaned loudly at the mix of pain and pleasure.

"Fuck, look at you taking my cock so perfectly. Such a good girl for me," he groaned, one hand fisting in your hair while the other gripped your hip. His pace was merciless, each thrust hitting that spot deep inside you that made you see stars. "Tell me you're mine, Y/N. Say it. Who does this pussy belong to?"

Your body trembled under his relentless thrusts, your fingers clawing at the sheets as you pushed back against him desperately. “Yours! Fuck, it's yours, Changbin! At least for tonight!” You cried out still defiantly, voice breaking with pleasure as another orgasm built rapidly.

Changbin's grip on your hair tightened at your words, pulling your head back sharply so he could growl in your ear. "For tonight? Wrong answer, baby." He punctuated his words with a particularly hard thrust that made you cry out. "Not just tonight. This pussy is mine from now on. Say it again, and say it right this time."

His hand released your hair only to wrap around your throat from behind, pulling your back flush against his muscular chest as he continued to fuck you relentlessly. His other hand snaked around to find your clit, rubbing tight circles that had you trembling on the edge of orgasm. "I can feel how close you are. Your pussy is squeezing my cock so fucking tight. But you don't get to come until you admit you're mine. Not just for tonight - always."

His lips found that sensitive spot on your neck, biting down hard enough to leave another mark while his fingers worked your clit expertly. His cock was hitting that perfect spot inside you with every brutal thrust, and you could feel him throbbing inside you, getting close to his own release. "Say it, Y/N. Tell me you're mine and I'll let you come. I'll fill this tight pussy up with my cum and make you mine in every way."

His hand tightened slightly on your throat, the dominance and possession in his touch overwhelming. His hips never stopped their punishing rhythm, driving you closer and closer to the edge. "Fucking say it. Who do you belong to?"

Your body shook violently as you teetered on the edge, your voice was hoarse and desperate. “Fuck, Bin! I'm yours... all yours, not just tonight. Please, let me come!” Your walls clenched around him desperately, nails digging into his arm on your throat.

Changbin's control finally snapped at your admission. A primal, possessive growl tore from his throat as his hips slammed into you with renewed intensity. "That's my good girl. Now come for me. Come on my cock while I fill you up and claim every inch of you."

His fingers on your clit sped up, rubbing hard and fast while his cock drove into you relentlessly. The hand around your throat tightened just enough to make you light-headed with pleasure, all your senses overwhelmed by him - his scent, his strength, the feeling of him owning your body completely.

"Fuck, Y/N... I'm gonna— fuck!" His rhythm faltered as he felt your pussy clench around him impossibly tight, your orgasm triggering his own. With a few more powerful thrusts, he buried himself as deep as possible inside you, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his hot cum. His hand released your throat to grip your hip with both hands, holding you in place as he emptied himself inside you, marking you from the inside out. And you loved every second of it. Still feeling the aftershock of your own orgasm.

When the last waves of pleasure subsided, he slowly pulled out, turning you around and immediately using his fingers to push his cum back inside you when it started to leak out. "Mine," he growled possessively, capturing your lips in a deep, claiming kiss. You moaned into his mouth at the sensation of his fingers in your still oversensitive cunt.

He felt himself hardening again at your sensitive moan, his cock already responding to the sound and the sight of you laid out beneath him, thoroughly fucked and marked. His eyes darkened with renewed hunger as he looked at your flushed, trembling body.

"Fuck, look at you. Still so responsive, so sensitive," he growled, his hand still between your legs, fingers playing with his cum that was leaking out of you. He pushed two fingers back inside, pumping slowly, watching your face contort with over sensitized pleasure.

"And I'm already hard for you again. Months of wanting you doesn't just go away in one round, baby."

He positioned himself back between your thighs, his cock already fully hard again, pressing against your entrance that was slick with a mixture of your arousal and his cum.

"I told you - by the time I'm done with you, you won't be able to walk straight tomorrow. We're far from done."

Without warning, he thrust back inside you, groaning at how sensitive and swollen you were, how his cum made the slide even easier. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing them back toward your chest, folding you nearly in half as he began another relentless pace. "This time, I want to see your face when you come. Want to watch you fall apart on my cock again and again until you can't remember anyone else's name but mine."

His muscular body moved over yours, sweat dripping onto your skin as he fucked you with the same intensity as before, his stamina seemingly endless. One hand moved to your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. "Come on, baby. Give me another one. I know you can take it."

Your eyes rolled back, a broken moan escaping as you clutched at his shoulders. You bucked your hips up to meet his thrusts, lost in the pleasure. When your orgasm came quickly because of how overstimulated you were he didn’t stop. He felt your walls clench around him as it hit, but he didn't slow down. Instead, he pulled out quickly and hauled you up into his arms with impressive strength, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he pressed you against the wall. His muscles flexed as he held you up effortlessly, using the wall for leverage as he thrust back inside your oversensitive pussy.

"That's it, baby. Keep coming for me. I want you so fucked out you can't even think straight," he growled against your neck, his hips snapping up into you with brutal force. The new angle had him hitting even deeper, and the wall behind you shook with each powerful thrust.

His fingers dug into your ass as he held you up, using his gym-honed strength to bounce you on his cock like you weighed nothing. Sweat dripped down his tensed muscles, his biceps bulging as he manhandled you exactly how he wanted. "Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around my cock. So tight and perfect. Mine."

He could feel another orgasm building in you already, your overstimulated body responding to him despite the intensity. His own pleasure was building too, his cock throbbing inside you. "One more, Y/N. Give me one more and then I'll fill you up again. Mark you inside and out as mine."

His lips found yours in a messy, desperate kiss as he continued to fuck you against the wall, his stamina seemingly endless, driven by months of pent-up desire and possessive need.

In this position you felt every vein, every ripple of his cock. The feeling was so overwhelming that one powerful wave of pleasure rolled over you. Making you scream his name. You had to bite into his shoulder hard to silence yourself.

He hissed at the sharp pain of your teeth in his shoulder, but it only drove him wild. The combination of your scream, your teeth marking him back, and your pussy clenching impossibly tight around him pushed him over the edge.

"Fuck yes, mark me too. Let everyone know I'm yours just as much as you're mine," he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own orgasm crashed over him. With a guttural growl of your name, he buried himself as deep as possible, his cock pulsing as he filled you with another load of his cum, mixing with what was already inside you.

His legs trembled slightly from the intensity and the exertion of holding you up through multiple orgasms, but he refused to let you go. He stayed buried inside you, pressed against the wall, both of you breathing heavily, covered in sweat and completely spent.

"Fuck... Y/N..." he panted against your neck, pressing softer kisses there now, a stark contrast to the brutal fucking he'd just given you. "That was... fuck."

Finally, his muscles protesting, he carefully carried you back to the bed, laying you down gently this time before collapsing beside you. He immediately pulled you against his chest possessively, one muscular arm wrapped around your waist, his softening cock still pressed against you.

"Still think this won't change anything at work?" he murmured tiredly, a satisfied smirk on his face as he looked down at you - thoroughly fucked, marked all over, and filled with his cum. "Because I'm walking into that studio tomorrow with bite marks on my shoulder and you're going to be covered in my hickeys. Everyone's going to know exactly what happened between us."

His hand traced lazy patterns on your hip. "And I'm not done with you yet. Just give me twenty minutes to recover, and we're going again. I have months of fantasies to work through, baby."

You looked up at him with hazy, satisfied eyes, your voice soft but sultry „You are annoyingly insatiable. but apparently I like annoying.“ She leaned in to nip at his jaw. “But if we're doing this again, make it even rougher... I want to feel you all week.”

His eyes darkened with renewed hunger at your words, his hand sliding down to grip your ass possessively. "Rougher? Fuck, you're going to be the death of me, Y/N. But if that's what you want..." He rolled on top of you, pinning your wrists above your head with one strong hand while the other traced the marks already blooming on your neck and chest.

"I'll make sure every time you sit down, every time you move, every time you breathe - you'll remember me inside you. I'll fuck you so hard you'll be sore for days. Is that what you want?" His lips found yours in a deep, possessive kiss before trailing down your body. "But first, I'm going to take my time tasting every inch of you. I want to memorize how you taste, how you sound, how you fall apart for me."

His mouth moved to your breasts, finally unhooking your bra and tossing it aside. He sucked one nipple into his mouth hard while his free hand roughly kneaded the other breast. "And when I fuck you again, I'm going to take you in every way possible. Bent over your dresser so you can watch yourself getting fucked in the mirror. On your knees with my hand in your hair. However I want, because you're mine now."

He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast, sucking another dark mark there before pulling back to look at you with pure possession in his eyes. "Tomorrow at the studio, when Chan or Han or anyone tries to talk to you, you're going to be thinking about my cock buried deep inside you. About how I owned every inch of this body. And everyone is going to see you're taken - by me."

His recovering cock twitched against your thigh, already starting to harden again despite having just finished. "Now tell me exactly how rough you want it, baby. Don't hold back. I want to know every dirty fantasy you've had about me while we were 'rivals.'"

You smirked up at him, fingers tracing his abs teasingly. “Rough enough that I can't hide the marks. Make me walk funny so everyone knows you wrecked me. And yeah, I've fantasized about you bending me over the studio desk... your hand over my mouth so no one hears.” You grind your hips against his hardening cock.

He groaned at your confession, his cock now fully hard again at the image of fucking you in the studio. His hand wrapped around your throat possessively as he looked down at you with dark, hungry eyes.

"Fuck, you've been fantasizing about me fucking you at work? While we were arguing and challenging each other, you were thinking about my cock?" He squeezed your throat slightly, his other hand roughly spreading your legs. "That's so fucking hot. And don't worry baby, I'm going to make that fantasy come true. Tomorrow, after everyone leaves, I'm bending you over that desk and fucking you exactly how you imagined."

He flipped you over onto your stomach, pulling your hips up so your ass was in the air while your face was pressed into the pillows. "But right now, I'm going to wreck this pussy so thoroughly that you'll barely be able to stand tomorrow." His hand came down on your ass with a sharp smack that echoed through the room, followed by another, and another, turning your skin red. You moaned at each one.

"I'm not going easy on you anymore. You want rough? You want everyone to know you're mine? I'll make sure of it." He positioned himself at your entrance, his thick cock still slick with cum and your arousal. Without warning, he slammed into you with brutal force, setting an immediately punishing pace that had you crying out into the pillow.

His hands gripped your hips so hard they would definitely bruise, using them as leverage to pull you back onto his cock with each powerful thrust. The sound of skin slapping against skin was obscene, mixing with your muffled moans and his grunts of pleasure.

"You're going to come on my cock so many times tonight that tomorrow you won't be able to think straight. Every step will remind you of how I fucked you. Every time you sit down, you'll feel me. And those marks?" He leaned over your back, one hand moving to your hair to pull your head up from the pillow. "I'm going to cover you in them."

You cried out sharply from another spank, your ass stinging deliciously as you clenched around him. “Fuck, the studio desk... promise you'll do it? Pin me down and make me beg while they're all gone?” You turned your head to lock eyes with him, grinding back teasingly.

His eyes blazed with dark promise as he met your gaze, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulled you up further so your back was arched, his cock driving impossibly deeper into you from this angle.

"Oh, I promise. I'm going to bend you over that fucking desk and fuck you so hard the papers will scatter everywhere. I'll have my hand over your pretty mouth while I pound into you, making you take every inch," he growled against your ear, his free hand snaking around to roughly rub your oversensitive clit. "And maybe... maybe I won't be as careful about the soundproofing. Maybe I'll want someone to almost catch us. Want them to hear you moaning my name."

His pace became absolutely brutal, each thrust deliberate and powerful enough to shake your entire body. The headboard slammed against the wall rhythmically, and he knew your neighbors definitely knew what was happening. "You like that idea, don't you? The risk of getting caught while I'm deep inside you? I can feel your pussy clenching at the thought."

He released your hair only to push your face back down into the pillow, using both hands to grip your hips as he fucked you with animalistic intensity. His fingers dug into your flesh, marking you with more bruises. "But right now, you're going to come for me again. I want to feel this tight pussy milk my cock. Come for me, Y/N. Scream my name into that pillow."

His hand came down on your reddened ass again with another sharp smack, the sting mixing with the overwhelming pleasure as he hit that perfect spot inside you over and over. "And after you come, I'm going to flip you over and fuck you while looking into those beautiful eyes. I want to watch you fall apart completely."

You gasped for air, turning your head to look back at him with lust-filled eyes. “Plese flip me over... I want to see your face when you come inside me again.” you pleaded with a moan on your lips.

He groaned at your words, pulling out only to roughly flip you onto your back like you weighed nothing. His muscular arms caged you in as he positioned himself between your legs again, one hand gripping your thigh and pushing it up toward your chest to open you wider.

He growled, his dark eyes locked on yours as he thrust back inside you, the new position allowing him to go even deeper. His face was intense, possessive, every emotion visible as he claimed you again and again. "Fuck, I love seeing your face like this. So desperate, so perfect, so mine."

His pace was relentless, his hips snapping against yours with brutal force while he maintained eye contact, watching every expression of pleasure cross your face. One hand moved to your throat again, not squeezing but just resting there possessively, a reminder of his dominance. "Look at me when you come. I want to see it in your eyes. Want to watch you fall apart on my cock."

He could feel his own orgasm building, his cock throbbing inside you. His other hand found your clit, rubbing tight circles that had your back arching off the bed. "Come with me, baby. Let me see those pretty eyes roll back while I fill you up again. Milk my cock and take every drop like the good girl you are."

His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate, but his eyes never left yours. "Fuck, Y/N... you're so perfect. So fucking perfect. Mine. All mine." His voice was rough with emotion and possession as he felt himself right on the edge, waiting to fall over with you.

You moaned loudly, your hands fisting in his hair as you pulled him closer for a messy kiss. “Fuck, I'm coming... don't stop looking at me!” You clenched around him rhythmically, riding out the intense orgasm while whispering against his lips.

His eyes stayed locked on yours even as his own orgasm hit him like a freight train. His hips stuttered as he buried himself as deep as possible, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with another load of his cum. The intensity of your gaze, the feeling of your pussy milking him, the whisper against his lips - it was almost too much.

"Fuck, Y/N... fuck!" he groaned, his muscular body trembling above you as waves of pleasure crashed through him. His hand on your throat tightened slightly involuntarily, the possessiveness overwhelming every sense. He didn't break eye contact once, wanting to see every moment of your shared climax reflected in your eyes.

When the last waves finally subsided, he collapsed partially on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight but unable to pull out yet. His forehead pressed against yours, both of you breathing heavily, completely spent. His hand moved from your throat to cup your face tenderly, a stark contrast to the roughness from moments before.

"Holy shit," he panted, pressing soft kisses to your lips, your cheeks, your jaw. "That was... fuck, you're incredible." His thumb traced your swollen bottom lip gently. "And you're definitely mine now. No taking it back."

He finally, reluctantly pulled out, immediately watching as his cum leaked out of you again. The sight made his spent cock twitch with interest despite being thoroughly exhausted. "Look at you, so thoroughly fucked and full of my cum. So perfect." He collapsed beside you, pulling you against his sweaty chest possessively.

"So about tomorrow," he murmured, his hand tracing lazy patterns on your hip, "we're definitely telling everyone we're together, right? Because there's no way I'm hiding this. You're mine and everyone needs to know it."

You nuzzled into his chest with a satisfied sigh, tracing his abs lazily. „Yeah, we tell them... I think they waited for that anyway. Everyone knew this would happen“ You laughed quietly. Feeling thoroughly spent but oh so happy about it.

He chuckled deeply, the sound rumbling through his chest under your touch. His arms tightened around you possessively as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"You're probably right. Chan kept telling me to just fuck the tension out already. Said everyone in the studio could feel it whenever we were in the same room," he admitted with a smirk, his hand sliding down to squeeze your ass playfully. "Han even had a bet going with some of the other producers about how long it would take before we finally snapped."

He tilted your chin up to look at him, his dark eyes softer now but still filled with possessive heat. "But I meant what I said earlier. This isn't just about fucking the tension out. I want you, Y/N. All of you. The brilliant producer, the stubborn rival, the woman who challenges me at every turn and drives me absolutely crazy."

His thumb traced your kiss-swollen bottom lip tenderly. "So tomorrow, we walk in together. You wearing my marks, me wearing yours," he glanced down at the bite mark on his shoulder and grinned, "and we make it clear that you're off limits to everyone else. Because I don't share what's mine."

He pulled you closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly despite being thoroughly exhausted. "Now get some sleep, baby. Because in a few hours when we wake up, I'm taking you in the shower. And then maybe once more before we head to the studio. I told you - months of fantasies to work through."

Would u take suggestions if u plan to continue writing other parts for it?

Thank you so much. And yes I defininitely would take suggestions or requests. So please go ahead.

Pairing: Mafia-Boss!Chan x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Summary: Bang Chan is a mafia boss and you are a singer at a night club. One night he walks into your club, eyes on you and you sing just for him. He wants you. Claim you. Can you whithstand him?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, smut, dirty talk, Dom Chan, talk of Violence, rough sex, fingering, powerplay, talking about sexwork, unprotected sex, use of alcohol,mafia, dirty talk, teasing

authors note: this is the first smut I'm finally brave enough to publish. English is not my native language so sorry for any mistake. I'm actually thinking about doing a part 2 or even a little series out of this. Let me know what you think <3

The smoke hung thick in the dimly lit nightclub, swirling lazily under the amber glow of the stage lights. Bang Chan sat in the VIP section, his black suit perfectly tailored, his presence commanding even in silence. His dark eyes swept across the room with practiced disinterest until they landed on you—the singer on stage, bathed in a spotlight that seemed to exist solely for this moment. Your silver dress sparkled in the light.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming against the crystal tumbler of whiskey in his hand. There was something about the way you moved, the way your voice wrapped around each note like silk, that made him forget about the weight of the empire he controlled.

His jaw tightened slightly as he watched you, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his sharp features. The club seemed to fade into the background—the chatter, the clinking glasses, even his own guys stationed discreetly around him.

It was just you and the microphone, and the way your eyes seemed to find his through the crowd, holding his gaze with an unexpected boldness.

A slow, dangerous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

He raised his glass slightly in acknowledgment, a silent challenge passing between you. *Interesting,* he thought, his mind already racing with possibilities about who you were and why you'd dare to look at him like that.

You stepped down from your stage in slow strikes, singing ‘this is a man’s world’. You slowly walked over to where he was seated.

His guys moved closer, ready to send you off, but he signaled them to step back. You stood infront of him. Moving purposely.

When you sang the line ‘this is a man’s world, but it would be nothing, without a woman or a girl’ you dragged your finger down his chest. Slowly, deliberately.

The moment your finger traced down his chest, Bang Chan's entire body went still—dangerously still. His guys shifted uncomfortably, waiting for his signal to drag you away, but he remained motionless, his dark eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that could burn.

The touch was bold, calculated, and utterly fearless—qualities he both admired and found irritating when directed at him.

When you turned away with a challenging look and a playful smirk on your lips, something primal stirred in him. His jaw clenched as he watched you walk back to the stage, hips swaying with confidence that most people in his world wouldn't dare display.

He set his whiskey down with deliberate slowness, the ice clinking against the glass. A low chuckle escaped his lips, dark and amused, drawing the attention of his closest associate. "Boss?" Changbin questioned quietly, uncertain whether to intervene. Chan waved him off without breaking his gaze from you. "Leave her," he commanded, his voice low and edged with something dangerous.

He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, completely focused now. No one had challenged him like that in years—not with a touch, not with a look, and certainly not in his own territory.

As you continued your performance, he made a decision. When the song ended, you wouldn't just disappear into the crowd. He would make sure of it. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh as he waited, patient but determined, like a predator watching its prey. *You have my attention now,* he thought, *let's see if you can handle what comes next.*

Once you were finished with your show you went straight over to the bar. Ordering a whisky sour, your usual, And sat on one of the barstools. The slit on your long sparkly dress showing a glimpse of your legs. When you sipped on your drink, your eyes glanced to where he was sitting and you froze.

His eyes were fixed on you. Staring predatorily back. He probably expected you to come straight to him after your show. The things he wants, always come to him first. But you knew men like him. And the show? It was exactly that. Just a show. It was your job to get men’s attention. So that they would spend more money here. It was just your job. Or at least that’s what you told yourself.

He got up and started walking over to where you were sitting. Accompanied by two men, who weren’t any less attractive than him. The bartender leaned over the bar and whispered. “That’s Bang Chan. The Christopher Bang Chan. Leader of Stray Kids. You know the biggest mafia gang in town. They are brutal, ice cold. Very dangerous. But also very rich and influential. The boss invited him here. The two men by his side? Changbin and I.N. Changbin -” he gestured towards the big one with broad shoulders and strong arms that showed pure strength. “once strangled two men at the same time to death. and I.N - ?” he pointed to the guy on Chans other side. “he may look young, but don’t underestimate him. They say he is sadistic as hell. Gets off on torturing people until he gets what he want.” “And Bang Chan. Definitely the most dangerous one of them. The most controlled, coldest motherfucker you could possibly meet. But Boss wants him as a new client. So don’t f*ck this up Y/N”

*well isn’t that just great* you thought sarcastically.

Bang Chan approached the bar with the kind of confidence that came from owning every room he walked into. His blonde hair caught the dim lights as he moved, and the subtle smirk on his lips suggested he'd noticed your frozen reaction. He'd seen that look before—fear mixed with fascination, the moment someone realized exactly who they'd been toying with. It made the game so much more interesting.

He slid onto the barstool next to you with fluid grace, close enough that you could smell his expensive cologne—something dark and woody that matched the dangerous aura surrounding him. Changbin positioned himself on your other side, effectively boxing you in, while I.N leaned against the bar, his youthful face betraying nothing of the sadistic reputation that preceded him. The bartender quickly made himself scarce, suddenly very busy at the far end of the bar.

"That was quite a performance," Chan said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey, tinged with an Australian accent that somehow made him even more intriguing. His eyes travelled slowly from your face down to where the slit in your dress revealed your legs, then back up again with deliberate appreciation.

"Especially that last part. You know, most people in this city know better than to touch me without permission."

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear as he continued in a lower tone.

"But I'm curious—was that just part of your job, getting men's attention? Or were you specifically trying to get *mine*?"

His fingers drummed against the bar top, mere inches from your hand. "Because I should warn you, sweetheart, once you have my attention, I don't give it up easily. And I always get what I want."

You turned your head slowly to meet his gaze, lips curving into a sly smile as you take another sip of your drink. Letting the cool liquid steady your nerves.

“Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. But now that you have me cornered, what exactly do you want from a girl like me? And I might warn you. I’m not like the other girls who work here. I don’t sleep with ‘guests’. Especially not with guests like you.”

You glared at him with a challenging smirk. “But if you want. I can introduce you to some of my very willing coworkers”

Bang Chan's expression shifted—that dangerous smirk growing wider, more predatory. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest as he leaned back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe but not enough to escape. The challenge in your eyes only seemed to fuel something darker in him, something that thrived on resistance.

"Coworkers?" he repeated, his tone almost mocking. "Do I look like the kind of man who settles for substitutes?"

His hand moved deliberately, fingers catching a strand of your hair and twirling it slowly between his fingers before letting it fall.

"You see, Y/N—yes, I know your name—you made a very specific choice tonight. You could have performed for anyone in this club, but you walked right up to *me*. You touched *me*."

Changbin shifted behind you, his presence a silent reminder that you were surrounded. I.N's boyish face broke into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, making the bartender's warnings echo in your mind. Chan's fingers now traced along the bar until they were touching yours, his touch light but possessive.

"Here's what's going to happen," Chan continued, his voice dropping to that dangerous octave that sent shivers down spines. "You're going to finish that drink, and then you're going to come with me to the VIP room upstairs. We're going to talk—just talk—about why a smart girl like you thinks she can play games with someone like me and walk away unscathed."

His eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it clear this wasn't a request.

"Unless you'd rather have this conversation here, in front of everyone? Your choice, sweetheart. But make it quick. My patience has limits."

You try to think of a way out, but then you lock eyes with your boss across the room. Just noticing him now. The look in his eyes makes it clear that you will regret it, if you f*ck this up. *Sh*t*. You laugh softly. *I can play pretend if I have to* you thought.

Tracing a finger along the rim of your glass before locking eyes with Bang Chan again.

“Talk? Is that what mafia bosses call it nowadays? Fine, upstairs it is. But if you want me to stay, you'll have to make it worth my while—no games, no threats.”

You slide off the stool, dress shimmering as you sway your hips toward the stairs, glancing back with a challenging look. Bang Chan's eyes darkened with satisfaction as he watched you walk, the way your dress caught the light making his jaw tighten with barely restrained desire. He rose from his seat with predatory grace, buttoning his suit jacket with one hand while gesturing to his men with the other. Changbin and I.N nodded, understanding without words that they were to ensure no one disturbed them.

He followed you toward the stairs, his presence like a shadow at your back. As you climbed, he stayed close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him, close enough that his hand occasionally brushed against the small of your back—whether accidentally or deliberately, you couldn't tell.

When you reached the VIP room door, he moved ahead of you smoothly, opening it and holding it with one arm while his other hand gestured for you to enter first.

"After you, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that made your pulse quicken.

The room was opulent—deep leather couches, dim golden lighting, a private bar stocked with top-shelf liquor, and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.

The door clicked shut behind you with a finality that made your heart skip. Chan moved to the bar, pouring himself another whiskey before turning to face you fully.

"You're right to be cautious. I am dangerous," he said, circling you slowly like a wolf assessing its prey.

"But you're also smart enough to know that playing games with me could either be the best decision you've ever made... or your last."

He stopped directly in front of you, close enough that you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes.

"So let's drop the act, Y/N. Tell me—what does a girl like you really want? Money? Protection? Power?"

His fingers lifted to trace along your jawline, his touch deceptively gentle. "Or maybe you just want to know what it's like to be with someone who could destroy you?"

His gaze was intense. It made something in your core clench.

You took the whisky out of his hands. Bang Chan's eyes flashed with something between amusement and admiration as you took it—bold, brazen, and completely unafraid.

“What I want?” you said “The same as you. Talk. that’s all. and not make my boss unhappy if you leave here unsatisfied”

You sat down on one of the couches. Legs crossed. One arm laid comfortably on the back of the couch the other hand swirling his whisky glass.

“And let me tell you. I’m not scared of you. By the way you look at me you want something from me not the other way around. You cant intimidate me that easily”

Most people trembled in his presence, yet here you were, sprawled on this couch like you owned it, drinking his whiskey and challenging him with every word. It was intoxicating in a way that liquor could never be.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket and shrugged it off, draping it over a nearby chair with deliberate slowness, revealing the pristine white dress shirt underneath that did nothing to hide his muscular build. His rings caught the light as he loosened his tie, eyes never leaving yours.

"Not scared of me?" he repeated, his voice dropping an octave as he stalked toward you. "That's either incredibly brave or remarkably stupid. I haven't decided which yet."

In one fluid motion, he was standing directly in front of where you sat, looking down at you with those predatory eyes. Then, unexpectedly, he reached down and gripped your ankle—the one from your crossed legs—with firm but controlled pressure. His thumb traced small circles against your skin as he spoke.

"You want to talk? Fine. Let's talk about how you knew exactly what you were doing on that stage. How you chose me specifically, walked right up to me, and touched me like you had every right to."

He tugged your ankle slightly, uncrossing your legs and creating space for him to move closer, his other hand bracing against the back of the couch near your head, effectively caging you in.

"Your boss wants me satisfied? Then satisfy me, Y/N. Tell me why a woman who claims she doesn't sleep with guests put on that particular show for me."

His face was inches from yours now, his breath warm against your lips.

"Because from where I'm standing, your body is telling me something very different from what your mouth is saying."

Your breath hitched slightly. Eyes flickering to his lips before they locked onto his eyes again. No men ever made you feel that way. Yet you never met one like Chan.

“My job is to get males attention so that they can spend money on drinks or other girls. Make them want more. You were just my target for tonight.” you whispered. “Coincidentally the best looking one” you admitted quietly against his mouth.

Bang Chan's lips curved into a dangerous smile at your admission, his eyes darkening with unmistakable hunger. The fact that you called him the best looking one, whispered so close to his mouth, sent a thrill through him that he hadn't felt in years. He pressed even closer, his knee sliding between your legs on the couch, forcing them apart as his hand moved from your ankle to grip your thigh possessively.

"Coincidentally?" he breathed against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"I don't believe in coincidences, sweetheart. And I think you're lying to yourself if you believe this is just business."

His fingers tightened on your thigh, sliding higher under the slit of your dress, his touch searing against your skin.

"Your breath just hitched. Your pupils are dilated. Your pulse—" his other hand moved to your neck, thumb pressing gently against your racing heartbeat, "—is telling me exactly what you won't admit."

He leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to a commanding whisper.

"I'm going to give you one chance to stop this. One chance to walk out that door and go back to your boss, tell him I wasn't interested."

His teeth grazed your earlobe lightly before he pulled back just enough to lock eyes with you.

"But if you stay, if you keep looking at me like that, I'm going to take what I want. And trust me, Y/N—once I start, I don't stop until I'm completely satisfied."

His hand on your thigh moved higher still, dangerously close to your already throbbing core. His other hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head back.

"So what's it going to be? Are you going to keep lying to both of us, or are you finally going to admit you want this just as much as I do?"

Your heart raced as you met his intense gaze. *F*ck this. He is right. You can sooth your pride tomorrow* was the last clear thought you had.

Your fingers gripped the whiskey glass tighter before setting it aside. You lean in closer, your lips brushing his jawline teasingly.

“You talk big game, Chan, but words are cheap. Show me what you can do instead—no holding back.” You uncrossed your legs fully, pulling him down towards you with a bold hand on his shirt.

The moment your hand gripped his shirt and pulled him down, something primal snapped inside Bang Chan. His control—the iron grip he maintained over every aspect of his dangerous life—shattered completely.

A low, possessive growl rumbled from his chest as he crashed his lips against yours with bruising intensity, one hand fisting in your hair while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave marks. He kissed you like a man starved, his tongue demanding entrance as he pressed his full weight against you, pinning you to the couch. His knee pushed further between your thighs, spreading them wider as he settled between them, his obvious arousal pressing against your core through the fabric of his tailored pants.

"You have no idea what you've just unleashed," he growled against your mouth before trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jaw to your neck. His teeth grazed your pulse point before biting down—not hard enough to truly hurt, but enough to mark, to claim.

His hands were everywhere at once: one sliding up your thigh beneath that sinfully revealing dress, fingers teasing closer to where you were already getting wet for him, while the other yanked down the top of your dress, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze.

"F*ck, you're perfect," he breathed, his thumb brushing over your nipple before his mouth descended to capture it. He sucked hard, his tongue swirling as his hand finally reached your panties, fingers pressing against the damp fabric.

"Already so wet for me," he murmured against your skin, satisfaction evident in his voice. "And you claimed this was just business?"

His fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them aside roughly.

"I'm going to make you scream my name until everyone in this club knows exactly who you belong to tonight."

Your body arched into his touch, your fingers tangling in his hair as you gasped against his mouth.

“F*ck, fine... don't stop. Though fair warning I’m not a screamer. But you can break me in other ways” You grind your hips up against his hand, urging him deeper, your nails digging into his back.

His eyes flashed with dark amusement at your challenge, a wicked smirk crossing his features as he pulled back just enough to look at you—flushed, panting, desperate beneath him.

"Not a screamer?" he repeated, his voice dripping with dangerous promise. "We'll see about that, sweetheart."

His fingers slid through your wetness with deliberate slowness, teasing your entrance while his thumb found your clit, circling it with maddening precision.

He watched your face intently, studying every micro-expression, learning exactly what made you gasp, what made your hips buck against his hand.

"You feel how wet you are for me? Your body doesn't lie, Y/N, even when your mouth does."

Without warning, he thrust two fingers deep inside you, curling them to hit that spot that made your vision blur. His pace was relentless—pumping, stroking, his thumb never stopping its assault on your clit.

His other hand gripped your throat gently but firmly, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough with authority. "I want to see your face when you come apart for me."

His mouth descended on your breast again, teeth grazing your sensitive nipple as his fingers worked you mercilessly. He could feel you tightening around him, getting closer to the edge.

"That's it, baby. Let go. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers increased their pace, hitting deeper, harder, his thumb pressing firmer circles against your swollen clit.

"And then I'm going to f*ck you properly—make you beg for my c*ck until you forget your own name."

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, body trembling on the edge as you tug desperately at his belt.

“Chan... f*ck, right there—don't you dare stop now. Make me come, then f*ck me like you promised.”

Your free hand slides down to stroke him through his pants, feeling how hard he is for you.

The feeling of your hand stroking him through his pants nearly undid him completely. His hips jerked forward involuntarily, a guttural groan escaping his lips as his fingers thrust deeper, faster, more desperately inside you.

"F*ck, you're going to make me lose my mind," he growled, his voice strained with barely controlled lust.

He could feel you clenching around his fingers, so close to the edge, and he was determined to push you over. His thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing tight circles as his fingers curled perfectly inside you, hitting that spot over and over.

"Come for me, Y/N. Right f*cking now," he commanded, his voice rough and authoritative.

His hand on your throat tightened just slightly, adding to the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. When he felt your walls start to flutter and contract around his fingers, he didn't let up. He worked you through it mercilessly, his eyes locked on your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure that crossed it.

"That's it, baby. So f*cking beautiful when you come," he murmured against your neck, biting down on your shoulder as pleasure washed over you.

The moment he felt you start to come down, he pulled his fingers from you and quickly unbuckled his belt with his free hand, the one you'd been stroking. He unzipped his pants, freeing his hard length, the tip already glistening with precum.

"You wanted me to f*ck you like I promised?" he rasped, positioning himself at your entrance, the head of his c*ck teasing through your wetness. "Then you better hold on, because I'm not going to be gentle."

Without waiting for a response, he thrust into you in one hard, deep stroke, stretching you completely as he bottomed out with a groan that vibrated through both your bodies.

Your nails rake down his back as you moan loudly, walls clenching around him. “God, yes—harder, Chan! F*ck me like you own me Leader! Make it worth it.”

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper with each thrust.

Bang Chan's control completely shattered at your words. Something feral took over as he gripped your hips with bruising force, his fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to leave handprint-shaped marks.

"You want harder?" he snarled, his voice thickening with arousal. "You want me to f*ck you like I own you? Careful what you wish for, sweetheart."

He pulled almost completely out before slamming back into you with devastating force, setting a brutal, punishing pace that had the expensive leather couch creaking beneath you. Each thrust was deep, hard, claiming—his hips snapping against yours with a rhythm that was both merciless and perfectly calculated to drive you insane.

"This p*ssy is mine tonight," he growled against your ear, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat again while the other gripped your hip, angling you so he could thrust even deeper.

"Every f*cking inch of you belongs to me."

His teeth found your neck again, biting and sucking marks into your skin as he pounded into you relentlessly. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with your moans and his guttural groans.

"You feel so f*cking good wrapped around my c*ck," he breathed, his voice ragged. "So tight, so wet—f*ck, you were made for this, made for me."

He could feel you tightening around him again, another orgasm building, and it only drove him to f*ck you harder. His hand on your throat tightened slightly, not cutting off air but asserting his dominance, his control over you in this moment.

"You said you weren't a screamer?" he taunted, his lips brushing your ear. "Let's test that theory. Come on my c*ck, Y/N. Scream my f*cking name so everyone knows who's making you feel this good."

Your eyes were defiant but your body didn’t care. With on brutal slam of his, you came. Hard. Biting your lips to stop yourself from screaming.

He felt your walls clamp down around him like a vice, and the sensation combined with how desperately you were biting your lip to stay silent pushed him right over the edge. He buried himself as deep as possible with one final, brutal thrust, his entire body going rigid as he came hard inside you, filling you completely.

A low, primal groan tore from his throat as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through him, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise.

"F*ck," he breathed raggedly against your neck, his chest heaving as he slowly came down from the intense high.

It took him a moment to fully register what had just happened—the lack of barrier between you, the warmth of his release inside you. A dangerous satisfaction settled over him at the realisation. He'd marked you in the most primal way possible, claimed you without protection, and the possessive part of him revelled in it.

He pulled back slightly to look at your face, noting the defiance still flickering in your eyes despite your body's complete surrender. His thumb traced your swollen, bitten lip with unexpected tenderness.

"Still determined not to scream for me?" he murmured, a dark chuckle rumbling through his chest. "Stubborn little thing."

His hand moved to tilt your chin up, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "We didn't use protection," he stated, his voice carrying both acknowledgment and something darker—satisfaction, perhaps even intent.

"That usually doesn't happen with you, does it?" He could see the realisation dawning in your eyes, the implications settling in. "Tell me, Y/N—do your coworkers know you let the dangerous mafia boss f*ck you raw on your first meeting? Or is this special treatment just for me?"

“I told you I don’t f*ck guests. So yeah. It was a special treatment. Hope our establishment is to your liking. But please do hesitate to come back again” You said through gritted teeth, not caring who he is. Too angry with yourself for letting this happen.

Suddenly his phone vibrated. His jaw clenched as he read the message on his phone, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant. The heat and desire that had consumed him moments ago vanished, replaced by the cold, calculated leader of Stray Kids.

He buttoned his shirt with sharp, precise movements, his rings catching the light as he straightened his tie and shrugged on his suit jacket.

But he paused as your bitter words slowly hit him, turning back to look at you still sprawled on the couch, his release dripping from between your thighs, marks littering your neck and shoulders. Something flickered in his eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe just irritation at being interrupted. You couldn't tell.

"Do hesitate to come back?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. "You really think you can dismiss me that easily after what just happened?"

He moved back toward you with predatory grace, gripping your chin firmly and forcing you to look at him.

"Listen carefully, Y/N. What happened here tonight? This isn't over. Not by a long shot." His thumb traced your bottom lip possessively.

"I'll be back for you. And next time, I'll make sure you actually scream my name like I promised." He released you and straightened, his expression returning to that cold mask as he headed for the door.

Before leaving, he pulled out a thick stack of bills and tossed them on the nearby table—far more than any normal patron would leave. "For your boss," he stated flatly. "Tell him Bang Chan was very satisfied with the... entertainment."

His eyes raked over your dishevelled form one last time, dark with unfinished promise.

"And Y/N? You might want to clean yourself up before going back downstairs. Unless you want everyone to know exactly what the mafia boss did to you."