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You didn’t live there, not officially, but you drifted through their world like you were a part of fit—brewing coffee at dawn, sprawling across their couch at midnight, sinking into their gravity like it was the only force that mattered.

With Chan, you didn’t need labels. No promises, no declarations, just his hands on your skin, his lips staking claim whenever the mood struck. His arm slung possessive over your shoulders, his fingers curling tight on your thigh, his mouth stealing your breath in the kitchen like he owned the air itself. You were his, and everyone knew it. No questions asked.

Jeongin, though? He was a different story. Not cold, not distant, just careful. Shy, but with a jagged edge that sliced through his soft smiles. His eyes lingered too long when you sauntered in wearing nothing but Chan’s oversized tee, the hem teasing the tops of your thighs. His ears burned cherry-red when you stretched across the counter for a mug, the fabric riding up just enough to make him choke on his own breath. He’d vanish when things got too close, when you melted into Chan’s lap, lips brushing his throat during movie nights. Door shut, headphones on, like he could block out the heat seeping through the walls.

But Chan saw it. Chan always saw it.

And that night? He made sure Jeongin couldn’t look away.

You were sprawled across Chan’s bed, phone in hand, scrolling through nothing while he hunched over his desk, headphones slung around his neck, tweaking a track. The blue glow of his monitors carved shadows across his jaw, his focus so intense it made your thighs clench. God, you loved him like that—lost in his art, all sharp and quiet.

“You bored, babygirl?” His voice was velvet, that soft, dangerous drawl that always made your chest tighten. He swiveled his chair, eyes raking over you with that smile that could unravel you in seconds.

You hummed, teasing, not looking up. “Maybe a little.”

The bed dipped as he prowled over, snatching your phone and tossing it to the floor like it offended him. His body caged yours, heavy and warm, his eyes dark with intent.

“Got better things to focus on,” he murmured, and then his mouth was on you, slow at first, a tease of lips and tongue, before it turned hungry, devouring, stealing your air. His hands were everywhere; tugging your shirt up, sliding under to claim bare skin, fingers digging in like he wanted to brand you.

The kiss went feral, all teeth and need, his tongue fucking your mouth until you were whimpering into it. The air thickened, electric, the kind of heat that made your skin buzz.

Then—click. The faint sound of Jeongin’s door down the hall.

You froze, lips parting against Chan’s. “He’s home,” you whispered, voice shaky.

Chan’s grin was pure sin. “Good.”

Before you could protest, he kissed you again, harder, pinning you to the mattress like he wanted the whole damn building to know. His hand slid down your stomach, teasing the waistband of your shorts, then dipping lower, finding you already soaked. You gasped, nails biting into his shoulders as his fingers stroked, slow and deliberate, pulling sounds you couldn’t hold back.

“Chan—” you tried, voice trembling.

“Shh,” he breathed, lips brushing yours, his fingers slipping inside your shorts. “Don’t hide from him. Let him know who owns you.”

Your back arched as he worked you open, his touch a slow burn that set your nerves alight. You tried to bite back the moans, but he grabbed your chin, tilting your head back, his eyes blazing into yours. “Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled. “I want him to hear every single sound you make.”

His fingers curled, relentless, coaxing slick, obscene sounds from your body. The room filled with it—your whimpers, the wet rhythm of his hand, his low hum of approval against your throat. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, fucking you on his fingers until you were shaking. “Louder. Let him hear how good I make you feel.”

The heat in your belly coiled tight, your body trembling under him. You clung to him, torn between shame and the filthy thrill of knowing Jeongin was just down the hall, hearing every desperate sound spilling from your lips.

And Chan didn’t let up. He kissed you like he had forever, but his hands were greedy, impatient, sliding down your body like he needed to own every inch. His lips burned against your collarbone, your chest, sucking bruises that would bloom like secrets by morning.

“Take this off,” he muttered against your skin, tugging at the oversized shirt you wore.

You arched up, letting him peel it away until you were bare beneath him. His breath hitched—he always looked at you like that, like he was drinking you in, memorizing every curve. Then the hunger snapped back, sharp and ravenous.

“Fuck, look at you.” His lips closed around your nipple, tongue circling, and you cried out, fingers tangling in his hair. He groaned, sucking harder, his fingers never slowing their sinful rhythm between your thighs.

The coil inside you tightened, every nerve screaming. You tried to muffle your moans against your hand, but Chan caught your wrist, pinning it above your head.

“No hiding,” he warned, voice a dark growl. “Not when he’s listening.”

You shivered, shame and arousal twisting until you couldn’t tell them apart.

“Chan—”

“Say it,” he demanded, teeth grazing your skin, sharp enough to sting. “Say you want him to hear.”

Your breath caught, but the words tumbled out. “I… I want him to.”

His laugh was low, filthy. “Good girl.”

Then he shifted, sliding down between your legs. You barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on you, hot and wet and merciless. His tongue worked you with devastating precision, licking deep, sucking hard on your clit until you screamed, raw and wrecked.

“Chan—oh, fuck—”

He groaned against you, devouring every twitch of your hips, every broken sound spilling from your lips. The orgasm ripped through you, hard and messy, your moans echoing through the apartment like a confession.

Jeongin tried to ignore it. He really did.

The first muffled sounds hit him when he closed his door, and he told himself to block them out. Headphones on, laptop open, scrolling through anything to drown you out. But the walls were too thin, and Chan was too fucking cruel.

Your moans cut through, sharp and clear, each one like a knife to his restraint. He froze, shame burning his chest, but his body betrayed him fast. Heat pooled low, his cock hardening painfully in his sweats before he even realized his hand was moving.

He hated himself for it—should’ve hated himself—but when you screamed, raw and ruined, his cock jerked so hard he nearly doubled over.

“Fuck,” he whispered into the dark, pumping faster, eyes squeezed shut. He could see you too clearly—spread out on Chan’s bed, crying his name, body trembling. He’d stolen enough glances to fill in the blanks: your bare thighs, your swollen lips, the way you arched when Chan touched you.

His hips bucked, breath ragged. He wanted to stop, knew he should, but every sound you made dragged him deeper. When your moans broke into sobs of pleasure, he bit his fist, desperate to stay quiet as he came, hot and messy, shame flooding in just as hard as the release.

Slumped against the headboard, chest heaving, sweat cooling on his skin, the ache didn’t fade. His cock twitched, half-hard again, like his body didn’t care about the guilt tearing through him.

He couldn’t stop picturing you.

The way you laughed in the kitchen, soft and unguarded. The way Chan’s hands claimed you, casual but possessive, like you were his to hold. The way your shirt slipped too low sometimes, and Jeongin had to tear his eyes away before his thoughts betrayed him.

Now those thoughts were branded into him. You, writhing on Chan’s sheets, crying out so loud it shook the walls. He bit his lip hard enough to sting, wishing he could scrub the images from his brain, but they clung like sin, heavy and hot.

And the worst part? Some sick, aching part of him wanted it to happen again.

—

Chan’s room reeked of sweat and sex, thick and warm. You lay sprawled across the mattress, hair a mess, lips swollen, chest still heaving in ragged waves. Chan propped himself on one elbow beside you, watching you with that satisfied gleam that made you feel like you’d been unraveled all over again.

“You hear yourself?” His voice was rough, still thick with lust. He brushed a strand of hair from your cheek, his thumb dragging slow over your swollen lip. “Loudest I’ve ever heard you.”

Your cheeks burned. “You did that on purpose.”

His grin was wicked. “Damn right I did. You sounded so fucking good, baby.” He leaned down, kissed you deep and slow, savoring the taste of your release on your lips. When he pulled back, his eyes glittered. “Bet he heard every second of it.”

Your stomach flipped, shame and heat curling low. “Chan…”

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Don’t act like you don’t love it. You’re mine. He needs to know exactly how good I fuck you.”

You shivered, burying your face in his chest, trying not to let the thought of Jeongin listening make you clench all over again.

Chan’s hand slid lazily over your hip, possessive even in the afterglow. “Next time,” he murmured, voice low against your hair, “I’ll make you scream louder.”

And you knew he meant it.

—

The morning after, you padded into the kitchen barefoot, wearing one of Chan’s shirts and a pair of loose shorts, the fabric brushing the tops of your thighs, more tease than cover. The coffee pot bubbled as you leaned over the counter, humming softly to yourself.

Jeongin was already there when you turned, hesitating in the doorway, hair mussed from sleep, hoodie zipped to his chin. “Morning,” you said, casual, pouring yourself a mug.

“Morning,” he echoed, voice tight, eyes glued to the fridge like it held the secrets of the universe. He brushed past you to grab the milk, careful not to touch you, but you caught the way his gaze flicked down—just for a second—at your bare legs. His ears flushed pink instantly.

You bit back a smile, sipping your coffee.

The air crackled, sharp and charged. When Chan strolled in, shirtless and smug, you nearly sagged with relief. He came up behind you, pressing a kiss to your temple, his hand sliding low over your hip like he owned you. Which, in this house, he did.

“Sleep okay?” he murmured, loud enough for Jeongin to hear.

You hummed. “Mm, yeah. Really well.”

Chan smirked, fingers squeezing your hip. He glanced at Jeongin, who was pretending to study the milk carton like it was a math problem. “Bet you did, baby,” Chan said, his tone dripping with double meaning. “Wasn’t exactly a quiet night.”

Jeongin choked on his breath, turning fast to shove the milk back in the fridge. You caught his reflection in the stainless steel—jaw clenched, eyes dark. He fled the kitchen a second later, muttering something about his phone.

Chan chuckled against your neck. “Poor kid,” he murmured, low enough for only you. “He’s losing his fucking mind over you.”

—

Jeongin avoided you all day.

You felt it in the way he slipped out of rooms when you entered, in the way he kept his headphones clamped over his ears, volume loud enough for you to catch the faint thump of bass across the living room. His glances were fleeting—sharp with something you couldn’t name before he snapped his gaze away.

It gnawed at you.

“Think he’s mad at me?” you murmured to Chan that afternoon, curled against his side on the couch.

Chan tilted his head, considering. “Not mad.” His arm tightened around you, lips brushing your hair. “Flustered, or confused. Maybe even horny.”

You swatted his chest. “Be serious.”

“I am serious.” He chuckled, low and smug. “You’ve got him twisted up, baby. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

Your face warmed. “Maybe we should… tone it down?”

Chan’s smile was wicked. “Or maybe we should push harder.”

And true to his words, that night, you padded into the kitchen for water. The apartment was dim, quiet, Jeongin already tucked away in his room—or so you thought.

Chan followed you in, lazy and shirtless, his hand sliding over your waist as you reached for a glass. You were about to tease him for being clingy when his hand trailed lower, cupping you through your shorts.

“Chan,” you whispered, glancing toward the hall. “Here?”

“Here,” he said simply, already tugging your shorts down. He bent you over the counter before you could protest, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot against your ear.

The first thrust made you gasp, sharp and loud in the quiet apartment. You gripped the countertop, trying to steady yourself as he drove into you, hard and deep, the wet sound of your body echoing in the kitchen.

And then—a soft shift of air behind you.

You froze, eyes widening. Someone was in the doorway.

Jeongin.

He stood there, eyes wide, frozen like he’d stumbled into a fever dream.

“Chan—” you whispered, panicked, trying to pull away.

But Chan only gripped your hips tighter, pounding into you harder, his gaze locking with Jeongin’s. A slow, dangerous smirk curved his mouth.

“Don’t stop,” he growled into your ear, low enough for only you. “He’s watching.”

Shame and heat warred inside you, your body betraying you with every shuddering moan. You tried to bite them back, but Chan’s hand slid up to your throat, tilting your head so your voice spilled free.

“Louder,” he commanded. “Let him know how good I fuck you.”

Your moans filled the kitchen, raw and desperate. Jeongin’s breath hitched audibly—then he bolted, stumbling back into the hallway like he’d been burned.

Chan laughed softly against your skin, fucking you harder, chasing your orgasm with ruthless precision. And when it broke—when you screamed his name into the counter, your body convulsing around him—you knew Jeongin had heard it all.

—

Jeongin barely made it to his room before his hand was in his sweats. His chest heaved, his cock aching painfully, his mind replaying the sight burned into his skull—your body bent over the counter, Chan’s hands gripping you, your face twisted in pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck,” he whispered, jerking himself furiously, his other hand gripping the edge of his desk like it could anchor him. His hips bucked helplessly, the image of you moaning under Chan’s weight making him dizzy.

He came hard, spilling over his fist, his jaw clenched to keep the sounds in. But even as the release ripped through him, there was no relief—only obsession.

Because now it wasn’t just your voice echoing through the walls. It was the picture of you, bent over the kitchen counter and ruined, that he couldn’t shake.

And he knew—no matter how hard he tried to bury it—he wanted it to be him next time.

The sudden knock at his door made him jump, nearly dropping his phone. “Hyung?” he called, voice wary.

Chan leaned against the frame, arms crossed, hair damp from a shower. He looked infuriatingly casual, like he hadn’t just fucked you loud enough to shake the apartment walls.

“You like listening to her, huh?” Chan’s voice was low, smooth. Amused.

Jeongin froze, ears burning. “What—what are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.” Chan stepped in, pushing the door wider until Jeongin scrambled back on the bed. “The way you run off every time she’s in my clothes. The way you can’t look her in the eye without blushing.” A smirk curved his lips. “Bet you stroke your dick to the thought of her.”

Jeongin’s chest squeezed so tight he could barely breathe. “That’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Chan crouched down, level with him, his voice soft but sharp as a blade. “I hear it too, you know. The creak of your mattress when you think no one notices. You want her.”

Jeongin’s throat went dry. He should’ve denied it again, should’ve shoved Chan away. But the smirk said it all—Chan knew.

And worse, Chan wasn’t angry. He was entertained.

“Don’t worry,” Chan murmured, patting Jeongin’s thigh before standing. “I don’t mind sharing what’s mine. You just have to be brave enough to take it.”

He left before Jeongin could respond, the words sinking in like poison and honey both.

—

Morning in the apartment always smelled like coffee—Chan’s ritual, the hiss of the machine as familiar as your own heartbeat. You padded in barefoot, wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, hair mussed from sleep.

Jeongin was already at the table, hunched over a bowl of cereal. Usually, he’d mutter a quiet “morning” and bury his face, but today… his gaze flicked up at you. It darted away fast, but not before you caught it lingering, hungry.

Something had shifted. The way he stood when you passed by—closer now, not brushing by accident but hovering in your space, deliberate but skittish. Like he was testing how far he could push before someone noticed.

You didn’t, not at first. You just smiled, pouring yourself juice, tugging at the hem of Chan’s shirt as it slid high on your thighs. Chan, perched at the counter, hid his grin behind his mug, eyes flicking from you to Jeongin like he was watching a private show.

Then you leaned forward to wipe a spill on the counter. The shirt rode up, baring the curve of your ass. That’s when you felt it.

Firm. Hot. Pressed right against you for a split second too long.

Jeongin.

He bent over you with a muttered “sorry,” reaching past for the butter, but his hips pressed into yours, his hard-on unmistakable through his sweats.

Your breath stuttered. For a heartbeat, you thought you’d imagined it—but then he shifted back, and you caught the flicker in his eyes. Bold. Nervous. Not sorry.

“Careful, Innie,” Chan’s voice drawled from the counter. You froze, cheeks burning, sure he’d scold him. But Chan only sipped his coffee, smirk tugging his lips. “Don’t spill it.”

Jeongin’s jaw clenched. He didn’t meet Chan’s gaze, but you saw it in the set of his shoulders, the way his eyes slid sideways toward him like a challenge.

You, caught between them, felt your thighs press together under the hem of the shirt. Heat bloomed low in your stomach—not just from Jeongin’s boldness, but from the way Chan’s smirk said he’d expected this. Like he wanted you flustered.

Breakfast didn’t feel so ordinary anymore.

You tried to shake it off, pretend Jeongin hadn’t just pressed his cock against your ass like that, pretend Chan wasn’t sipping his coffee like it was the best show he’d seen all week. You grabbed toast to keep your hands busy, acting unfazed, though your pulse thundered in your throat.

But Jeongin didn’t retreat. He lingered close behind you, opening the butter dish with a calm that didn’t match the flush creeping up his neck. When you reached for the knife, his hand landed over yours—not clumsy, not accidental, but firm, his palm hot against your skin.

You froze, breath catching.

“Sorry,” he murmured, but his voice was low, rougher than you’d ever heard it in the mornings. He let the contact linger, fingers brushing the back of your hand before he finally pulled away.

The silence was deafening. You dared a glance at Chan.

He was smirking, elbow on the counter, chin propped in his palm as he watched Jeongin slink back to the table with his buttered toast. His gaze flicked to you, lingering on your parted lips, the shirt barely skimming your thighs. Then, deliberately, he winked.

Heat flooded your cheeks. You couldn’t decide what rattled you more—Jeongin’s touch or Chan’s smug approval.

Breakfast continued in a brittle kind of quiet, Jeongin eating fast, eyes glued to his plate. But every now and then, his gaze flicked up—not at you, but at Chan. Like he was waiting to see if he’d crossed a line.

Chan never scolded. He never warned him off. He just sipped his coffee, eyes glinting with amusement, like he was daring him to try again.

And that was worse.

By the time you pushed back from the table, thighs pressed tight together under the hem of the shirt, you knew something had changed. Jeongin wasn’t just shy anymore. He was testing waters he had no business testing. And Chan wasn’t stopping him.

He was encouraging it.

Later that night, Chan pulled you into his room early, tugging you onto his lap while he worked on his laptop. You half-watched a drama on his phone, half-dozed against his chest, until he set the computer aside and tilted your chin up.

“Door stays open tonight,” he murmured, already sliding his hand under your shirt.

Your heart kicked. “Chan—”

“Shh. Be good for me.” His grin was sharp, wicked. “He’s gonna be listening.”

He wasn’t wrong. The hall light spilled across the floor through the cracked door, and even before Chan kissed you, you felt the prickling weight of being watched.

By the time he had you on all fours, his cock driving into you with measured, punishing thrusts, your body was trembling. Every moan felt louder in the quiet apartment, bouncing off the walls, impossible to contain.

“Let him hear you,” Chan growled, fingers digging into your hips. “Let him know how good I fuck you.”

You tried to stifle it, but when he hit that spot inside you, the cry that tore from your throat was shameless, raw. The sound made Chan laugh darkly—and then his gaze flicked to the door.

You followed it, dazed, and your stomach flipped.

Jeongin was there. Standing frozen in the hall, eyes wide, lips parted. Watching.

Your face burned, shame and arousal tangled tight in your chest. But Chan didn’t stop. If anything, he thrust harder, dragging another moan from you until your voice cracked.

“He’s watching, baby,” Chan whispered against your ear. “Don’t hide from it. Show him how pretty you look when you come.”

You broke apart on his cock, legs trembling, the orgasm tearing through you harder than you wanted to admit—because you knew Jeongin saw it.

But Jeongin hadn’t meant to stop. He told himself he was just getting water, that he’d walk past the open door without looking.

But then he heard it—your gasp, the slap of Chan’s hips against your ass—and his feet betrayed him.

And now he was frozen, half-hidden in the shadows, cock straining painfully in his sweats as he watched.

You—on your hands and knees, shirt bunched at your waist, hair falling around your flushed face. Chan—behind you, fucking into you hard enough to make the headboard knock against the wall.

Jeongin’s breath came shallow, ragged. He knew he should leave, knew this was wrong—but the sight of you moaning, back arching, glued him in place.

Then you looked at him.

For a split second, your eyes locked, wide and glazed, your mouth falling open around a cry. It hit him like a punch to the chest—and then you were coming, shaking apart under Chan’s hands, and Jeongin’s cock twitched violently in his sweats.

Chan smirked at him over your shoulder. Like he’d been expecting him all along.

“Don’t run, Innie,” Chan said, voice low but carrying. “Stay. Watch properly.”

Jeongin’s knees nearly gave out. He didn’t move forward. He didn’t move back. He just stood there, caught like prey, with your wrecked body trembling on the sheets and Chan smirking like he owned you both.

And maybe he did.

Your body still quivered around Chan, heat pooling low as the aftershocks rippled through you. His cock stayed buried inside, grinding lazily like he owned you—and in the doorway, Jeongin hadn’t moved.

Chan’s smirk curved against your ear. “Look at him,” he murmured, voice dripping with dark amusement. “Can’t take his eyes off you.”

You did. You looked—and the sight nearly undid you again. Jeongin stood stiff in the hall, chest rising and falling too fast, one hand clenched at his side, the other twitching like he was fighting not to touch himself. His eyes burned—hungry, guilty, desperate.

Chan kissed your jaw, lips hot against your skin. “Should we let him feel you, baby?” His hand slid down your stomach, brushing over your swollen clit, making you whimper. “He’s been dying for it.”

Your moan came out broken, but you managed a nod, hips jerking under his touch. “Y-yeah,” you gasped, heat flushing your cheeks. “I want him to.”

Chan chuckled low in his chest. He raised his voice just enough to carry. “Innie,” he called, lazy and commanding. “Come here.”

Jeongin didn’t move at first. But his throat worked as he swallowed, and slowly, like gravity dragged him, he stepped into the room.

“Close the door,” Chan said.

The soft click of it shutting sent a thrill through your veins.

“Now,” Chan murmured, pulling you back against his chest, spreading your thighs wider so Jeongin could see everything. “Ask her.”

Jeongin’s skin felt like it was on fire. Every nerve screamed at him to run, but Chan’s voice pinned him in place. And you? fuck, you were spread out in front of him, flushed and trembling, your thighs glistening.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

“Go on,” Chan pressed, smirking at him over your shoulder. “If you want to touch her, ask.”

Jeongin’s mouth was dry. His voice cracked when he spoke. “C-can I… touch you?”

You looked at him, pupils blown, lips swollen. And then you nodded. “Yes.”

That one word broke him.

His knees nearly buckled as he crossed the room. Chan shifted you onto your back, spreading you open like a gift. Jeongin hovered at the edge of the bed, trembling as he reached out.

His hand landed on your thigh first. Warm. Careful. The muscle twitched under his palm, and when you didn’t pull away, he dragged his fingers higher.

The moment he brushed against your slick folds, he swore under his breath. “Fuck…”

Chan chuckled, still behind you, his hand guiding Jeongin’s wrist. “See how wet she is? That’s for you, Innie. She’s been dripping since breakfast.”

Jeongin groaned, sliding his fingers through the wetness, circling your clit the way Chan directed. You gasped, hips arching up into his touch, and the sound shot straight through him.

He wanted more. Needed more.

“Inside,” Chan ordered, voice dark silk. “Two fingers. Make her feel good.”

Jeongin obeyed, pressing two fingers into your heat. The tight warmth clutched at him instantly, and his jaw dropped. “She’s—she’s so tight,” he gasped.

You moaned, eyes fluttering shut, and Jeongin nearly came in his pants at the sound. He curled his fingers experimentally, and when your back arched off the bed, Chan laughed softly.

“Good boy,” Chan praised. “You feel that? That’s her spot. Keep doing that—don’t stop until she’s shaking.”

And Jeongin did.

His fingers pumped into you, faster, deeper, until you were writhing under his touch, your cries filling the room. His cock throbbed painfully, pre-cum soaking his sweats, but he didn’t stop… he couldn’t.

He watched you fall apart on his hand, mouth open, cheeks flushed, and he thought he might die from how beautiful you looked like this.

And when you broke, crying out as you came around his fingers, Jeongin’s whole body shuddered. He hadn’t even been inside you yet, but he was ruined.

When his mouth found you it was warm, hesitant at first, his tongue flicking shyly against you. But the second he tasted you, something snapped—he groaned low, hands sliding up your thighs, holding you open wider as he buried his face deeper.

“Good boy,” Chan purred above you, smirking as he watched. “She tastes fucking sweet, doesn’t she?”

Jeongin moaned into your cunt, nodding frantically, his tongue working faster. He didn’t answer with words, just licked and sucked, messy and desperate. The wet sounds filled the room, your hips jerking under his mouth.

Your fingers found his hair, tugging as you cried out. He whined at the praise, the sound sending a jolt through your body.

But then you noticed, his free hand had slipped to his waistband. His cock was out, flushed and leaking, and he was pumping himself in tight, fast strokes like he couldn’t help it.

The sight made your stomach twist with heat.

And his other hand… oh god, it was on your breast now, squeezing and kneading, his thumb brushing your nipple like he was drunk on the feel of you. He moaned around your clit, rutting into his own fist, sucking greedily like he’d never get enough.

“F-fuck, Chan—” you gasped, trying to hold on, your body twitching with overstimulation. “He—he’s not stopping—”

That was when Chan moved.

His hand fisted tight in Jeongin’s hair, yanking his head back sharply. You gasped at the suddenness, and Jeongin’s lips tore from your swollen clit with a wet sound, spit glistening down his chin. His eyes were wild, pupils blown, chest heaving.

“That’s enough,” Chan said, low and commanding, his fist still holding Jeongin in place.

Jeongin froze, caught between shame and need, cock still twitching in his hand.

And you… you were trembling, caught on the edge, your body begging for more.

“Please,” you whimpered, eyes darting between them. “I want him inside. I need him inside me.”

Jeongin’s breath caught. His gaze flew to Chan’s face, incredulous, almost afraid to hope. He didn’t move to obey… you could see it, how badly he wanted to, but he wouldn’t without permission.

And Chan knew it. His smirk deepened, grip in Jeongin’s hair tightening possessively as if he owned him too.

“Look at you,” Chan murmured, tilting Jeongin’s head so he had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Begging without words. You want to fuck her that bad?”

Jeongin swallowed hard. His voice cracked. “Yes. Please.”

The sound of it—Jeongin begging both of you—was almost as filthy as the sight of Chan holding him down.

Chan leaned in, his tone dark silk. “Be good for me, Innie.”

And then, with a single nod, he gave him permission. The second Chan let go, Jeongin didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, grabbing your thighs, folding you back so sharply your knees nearly brushed your shoulders. A shocked moan ripped from your throat as his cock slid into you in one deep, unrelenting stroke.

“Oh, fuck—!” you cried, nails digging into the sheets.

Jeongin wasn’t shy anymore. He wasn’t hesitant. He was gone. Every thrust was sharp, practiced and precise, like he’d been studying, waiting, imagining this moment for years. He angled his hips until he found the spot that made your breath shatter, then pounded into it over and over, grunting low in his throat as sweat dripped down his temple.

“Shit, Innie,” Chan murmured behind you, his voice smug and approving. “Look at you. Fucking her like you own her.”

You barely heard them, you were too far gone, every nerve sparking as Jeongin folded you in half, his cock pistoning deep, each thrust dragging a broken cry from your lips. You’d thought he’d be shy, awkward. Instead, he was ruthless, slamming into you with the single-minded desperation of a man starved.

Chan slid closer, catching your mouth in a deep, wet kiss. His tongue filled you, stealing the air from your lungs as Jeongin’s cock stole every ounce of strength from your body. You whimpered into Chan’s mouth, trembling between them.

And then—oh god—Chan’s hand was on your clit again. His fingers circled fast and firm, syncing with Jeongin’s brutal rhythm.

You bucked hard, crying out into the kiss. The double stimulation was too much—Jeongin splitting you open, Chan rubbing you raw.

“Take it,” Chan growled against your lips, smirking when you gasped. His free hand cupped your breast, thumb rolling your nipple as Jeongin drove into you like it was the last thing he’d ever do. “Let him ruin you for me. Show him how sweet you fall apart.”

Jeongin groaned, pounding harder, eyes locked on where his cock disappeared into you. “Fuck, hyung—she’s so tight—I can’t—”

Chan’s hand snapped up, fisting in Jeongin’s damp hair, yanking his head back until his moan cracked in the air. “Not yet,” Chan snarled, voice dark and commanding. “She cums first. Hold it.”

The sound Jeongin made was half-groan, half-whimper. His hips stuttered, but he didn’t stop—he couldn’t. He kept pounding into you, fighting against his own climax, chasing your pleasure like it was oxygen.

You broke with a scream, body arching up between them as your orgasm tore through you. The pressure snapped, and you gushed, squirting hard around Jeongin’s cock, wetness spraying his abs, Chan’s hand, everything.

“Holy fuck—!” Jeongin’s eyes rolled back at the sight, his rhythm collapsing into frantic, punishing thrusts as your release soaked him.

“Now,” Chan ordered, yanking his hair once more.

Jeongin ripped himself free with a strangled curse, his cock dragging wet from your spasming cunt just in time to spill across your stomach. Hot, messy ropes painted your skin as he groaned loud enough to echo, trembling as if it was tearing him apart to let go.

You lay sprawled, trembling, dripping wet and painted with him, while Chan smirked above you, satisfied. He wiped his fingers through your release, smearing it up your stomach, pressing them into Jeongin’s mouth without hesitation.

“Good boy,” Chan drawled as Jeongin sucked them in, eyes dazed and glassy. “That’s how you learn.”

Your body still buzzed, every inch raw and sensitive, your cunt pulsing empty in desperate aftershocks. Jeongin’s cum was sticky across your stomach, dripping slowly down your side, your thighs trembling from the force of your orgasm.

Jeongin hovered above you, chest heaving like he’d run a marathon, hair sticking to his forehead, lips parted. His cock was still hard, twitching, like it couldn’t believe what it had just done.

You tried to speak, but your voice cracked on a single, “Fuck…”

Chan chuckled, low and satisfied, sinking back on his heels like a king surveying his kingdom. He dragged a broad hand over your stomach, smearing Jeongin’s spend across your skin, painting you with it deliberately. Then he brought his glistening fingers to Jeongin’s lips again, and the younger boy opened obediently, dazed, sucking without hesitation.

“Good boy,” Chan murmured, the praise rich and smug. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Jeongin should’ve felt ashamed. He should’ve felt guilty. But all he felt was alive. His body still hummed from the restraint, from the way his orgasm had ripped through him when Chan finally allowed it. And watching you writhe and gush under him, your voice breaking as he fucked you into oblivion, that was going to burn into his memory forever.

His tongue wrapped around Chan’s fingers, tasting salt and slick, swallowing down what was left of the mess he’d helped make. His eyes flicked to you, your ruined, trembling body—and his cock twitched again.

Chan smirked, watching him like a hawk. “You’re hooked now, huh? Can’t hide it anymore.”

Jeongin swallowed hard, nodding before he could stop himself. “I… yeah.” His voice cracked, embarrassed, but he didn’t look away.

Chan’s hand cupped his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek, still firm but almost gentle now. “Then you better listen. You don’t touch her unless I say. You don’t get to keep her. You share her. With me.”

Jeongin’s pulse kicked hard in his throat. He nodded again, the words tumbling out without hesitation. “Yes, hyung.”

And God help him, he’d never wanted anything more.

You sank back against the sheets, boneless, every nerve still twitching. Chan’s palm smoothed over your thigh, grounding you. “Easy, baby,” he murmured, voice low, soothing. “You did so good.”

Jeongin hovered awkwardly at first, chest still rising and falling hard, eyes flicking from your face to your body like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to look. When he finally shifted, it wasn’t away—it was closer. He grabbed a tissue from the bedside, hesitated, then leaned down to carefully wipe your stomach, his touch gentler than you expected.

Your breath caught, not from the contact, but from the look on his face… so earnest, so wrecked, his lips still swollen from sucking Chan’s fingers.

“Thank you,” you whispered, and Jeongin’s eyes snapped to yours. His cheeks flushed pink, but he nodded, swallowing like the words meant more than you knew.

Chan chuckled softly, leaning back with that trademark smirk. “Look at him. Already trying to take care of you.” His hand ruffled Jeongin’s hair with something between approval and ownership, and Jeongin froze under it, caught, but didn’t pull away.

The three of you ended up tangled on Chan’s bed, your body cocooned between them. Chan on one side, warm and steady, his arm heavy around your waist. Jeongin on the other, stiff at first, clearly unsure if he belonged there. But gradually, as Chan didn’t protest, he edged closer, his knuckles brushing your arm, his breath warm against your hair.

Sleep tugged at you, but the heat lingered, unspoken. The weight of what had happened, of what had changed.

Chan’s lips brushed your ear, his voice a low rumble only you could hear. “This isn’t the end. It’s only the start.”

And with Jeongin’s heartbeat hammering against your back, you knew he was right.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Authors note: Annyeonghaseyo bad bitchesssss 🤩😍 Who wants some dorm coded smutty servinnnnnnnggggg???? 👀🤭 sooooo as you have seen above 🌝 we’re in a NAUGHTY DORM CHRONICLES eraaaaa 🫦🫦🫦🫦

The rest of the dorms are coming next so stay tuned babes ❤️

.

.

you whined, unable to move. the feeling of someone pressed up against your back. it took you a few seconds to properly wake up. you could feel his arm wrapped around your waist. pulling you against him.

was he asleep? when had he come back?

his breathing was jagged. and he shuffled around. his body heat radiating through your clothes. the one suit he was wearing was thick and padded.

"m' gonna pump you" he slurred. you made a questionable noise.

what was he mumbling on about.

"jinnie?" the boy stirred in his daze. choosing to mouth on the side of your neck. you trembled.

his tongue seemed hotter than usual and it had to have grown longer.

"j-jinnie?" you whispered, trying to turn your head around. he hummed, lightly sucking on the spot behind your ear. a strange noise leaving him. almost like he was purring loudly. sharp canines leaving pretty bruises.

"c-can i take you?" he mumbled, lifting his head up to look at you. your room was dimly lit so you could see the way his cheeks sparkled with blue stardust.

"huh?"

he sat up, gripping your thighs and pulling your hips towards him. lazily grinding against your covered core.

you gasped. he was hard. you could feel his dick through all those layers.

"need to fill you up" he blabbered, getting more into it. you noticed him have some self control. he stopped his actions.

"what's wrong?" you asked. slowly getting up.

"its that time of the year" you realised what he meant.

it was mating season. and during this time he had no control over himself. very little of himself remaining within.

"then do me" you reassured, watching his eyes flicker. you shook your head. ready for whatever came your way.

.

"any liquid that exits my body is a strong aphrosidiac during this time. you'll be insatiable and so will i"

"and you're telling me this right now-"

you gasped as he messily kissed you. sucking on your tongue. he smiled before going lower.

tongue leaving a trail of pale blue spit against your exposed chest. he ran his tongue over your hardened nub, teasing you. a grin on his face. because he knew it would kick in anytime soon.

a wave of pleasure hitting you. squeezing your legs around his hips. throbbing around nothing.

you were dripping. copious amounts of slick leaking out of your pussy. he was getting you ready. to take him.

"f-fuck me p-please hyun-n"

you cried out, feeling absolutely broken apart. you didn't know why you were crying. your body aching for more. cunt desperately grinding against his covered thigh.

he pulled away, standing up and unzipping his suit. it fell to the floor.

"don't get scared, okay?"

there was uncertainty in his voice. but you didn't give a damn. all you needed was him. inside of you.

your eyes flying down to his crotch.

his dick. no... his dicks?!

"TWO?!?!?" you yelled, watching him stroke himself. the base looked particularly thick and girthy.

he moaned out loud, as he grew wetter. his precum dripping onto his suit that was pooled around his ankles.

you felt like you were ascending. pure need. you needed him in you. or you'd die. unknowingly you made grabby hands and hyunjin smiled, climbing onto the bed to sit between your legs.

"it won't fit, w-will it?" you wanted to cry. he ignored you.

instead pushing his head against your cunt. his wet muscle spreading your folds apart. you couldn't help but grind down on his tongue.

so long and wet. extending to reach that spongey spot.

"spread your legs for me" he let out a strange clicking sound. and you did.

going to the extent of arching your back and begging for him. In any other instance, you'd be embarassed with how you were acting. like a bitch in heat. there was a smug look on his face. you were preparing yourself for the pain.

"it won't hurt. you're absolutely under my control now darling" he reassured and then you realised why your body was following whatever he instructed. more slick leaked out of your empty cunt.

he inched closer, pressing into you. slowly until he lost self control, moving in one swift motion. throwing his head back, he cried out. a broken pornographic moan.

tears escaped your eyes at how deep he was. stretching your pussy apart with his both his dicks.

absentmindedly he began rocking his hips. you whined, arms flailing around. running up his stomach and onto his chest. he was flushed. a sparkly blue aura around him.

he looked back down, looking at you with such intensity, you thought you'd melt into the mattress. his eyes half lidded.

"who does this filthy cunt belong to?" he asked, tilting his head.

"y-you"

"and these pretty little tits?" he looked so hot. eyebrows furrowed as he waited for your response.

"you. only you. i'm y-yours"

"aamh-hnngn" you arched your back, thighs quivering around his waist.

he had hooked his thumb into your cunt. making the slide inside even tighter and ten times more pleasurable.

"spit in my mouth please pl-ease"

he chuckled, holding your mouth open with his other hand and spitting. his spit mixing with the drool on the corner of your lips.

"good girl" he praised as you swallowed. choking at how his thumb in your cunt added to the feeling.

undoubtedly you came on the stop.

"feels good, doesn't it?" you nodded, sobbing as he thrusted. reaching a spot you never knew existed. sparks of ecstasy rushing through you.

"making both my dicks even wetter. such a kind heart you have" hyunjin moaned out. drooling as your cum seeped out of your cunt onto the bed and on him.

"you'll let me breed you, won't you" you shook your head.

remembering how he had told you that he couldn't get you pregnant. maybe if he actually really really tried then there was a 50 percent chance. and the best thing was that you didn't have to worry about protection.

"pleaseee p-please plea-"

"m' gonna fuck my babies into you." he stated, gripping your waist to hold you down as you squirmed. the pleasure overtaking you.

"have you crying over both my dicks hnnngh-" he mewled. hips faltering as you clenched down on him.

"gonna fill you up with all my cum. till its leaking out of you for days."

"needy fucking cunt. waiting to be bred"

he exclaimed, pressing a large hand on your lower abdomen. a bulge forming there with just how deep he was. burying himself in there.

you whimpered upon noticing how his dick was glowing. a neon blue colour. so bright you could see it on your lower stomach as he went in and out.

"ready, baby?"

you writhed as he slid his hand up. fondling your tits. tongue harshly sucking and nipping at your nipples.

"god, you'd be the perfect mate." your heart warming at how his tone grew softer. you could feel and see how strong his emotions were. his skin sparkling and eyes twinkling.

his thrusts growing faster and more rough. body jerking and spasming as his orgasm was building up. you managed to utter out a few words.

words that would fuel him and make him bend you backwards.

"want y-your e-eggs in me. breed me h-hyunnie"

he groaned loudly. pressing his hips against you. buried so deep in you, you swear he was up your throat.

his cum filling you up. there was so much of it. you swear you'd get pregnant in one go, with how heavy his load was.

"k-keep it all in p-please" he whined, lazily thrusting into you. his cum overflowing out. your eyes rolling back at how warm your insides felt.

his cum staining your thighs as he pulled out. stroking himself over your stomach as more seeped out.

it was so pretty. baby blue thick substance.

"look im all the way up here"

you marvelled at the small bulge just above your pelvic bone.

you were literally bred. his cum fucked into you. and he made sure to do it right.

within a few minutes, you felt yourself get wetter. a strong heat growing within you. pussy glistening.

practically displaying your heat for him. luring him in. his eyes glued onto how your cunt gaped.

"m-more n-need it" you begged, spreading your legs even wider. hissing at how much your pussy ached for his dicks. welcoming him back home.

to carve himself into you.

"oh, my darling...well i did mention that my spit and cum acts like an aphrosidiac"

"so we're not done until i say so."

.

.

.

You slept with your best friend. You agreed to try a friend's benefits thing, as you're not ready for a new relationship. Your cunt clenches around his cock still inside you as you remember what happened. He grumbles a little in his sleep again, his hips lightly thrusting in his sleep. You can't help the soft moan that manages to slip out.

He nuzzles your neck a little, placing soft, sleepy kisses to your skin. He slowly ruts into you, making you moan out his name quietly.

"Mm..good morning, noona. How'd you sleep?" He asks between kisses to your neck and shoulder.

"Go-good morning. I s-slept well. Tha-thank you, Innie." You moan out.

"I'm sorry for it this early, munchkin. You moaned in my ear and woke me." He lifts his head and kisses you before you could apologize. "It's ok. Now, let me make you feel good, then we can go shower and I'll make breakfast, yeah?" He pecks your lips before capturing them in a searing kiss.

——

He was extra gentle as he fucked you in bed, pulling two orgasms from you before he came deep inside you. He smiled at you, his lips kiss bruised and shiny. He carried you to the bathroom and cleaned you in the shower. He was careful around your sensitive areas, placing soft kisses between washes.

This continued on for another couple months, fall quickly rolling around. You and Jeongin slept together a few times throughout the week, sometimes multiple times a day, depending on how you both felt. Jeongin took really good care of you, making sure you knew how amazing you were, and how much he cared about you.

You didn't see Hyunjin around, your friend group doing their best to not mention him or bring him around. You told them that they didn't have to stop being friends with him, but you appreciate them not bringing him up around you. You didn't cry much when you thought of him though, so it was a good sign.

You were on your way to work alone today as Jeongin was coming in late due to a doctor's appointment. You got to your cubicle and found a vase of flowers and a card on your desk. You open the card and smile softly. You immediately knew who it was from, the little face drawn on the card a dead giveaway for you.

Some of your female coworkers were playfully teasing you, saying you had a secret admirer. You carefully place the card in your purse. You move the vase to a safe spot away from your computer and settle down to work.

"So, Y/n. Who's your admirer?" Your coworker Jeun-ah asks. "Is he someone from the office?" She teases.

"I'm sure I know who it is, but that's for me to know." You smile when she playfully pouts.

——

Once a week, you have a new bouquet of flowers on your desk, and every time, you smile wide. Sometimes you take them back home, sometimes, you leave them in the vase. Everytime you get home, you thank Jeongin for the flowers, and every time, he feigns ignorance.

Today, you were at a little bookstore with Jeongin. You were browsing books, Jeongin holding you from behind, his hands laying on your stomach. He leans down, placing his head on your shoulder and looks at the books you have in your hands.

"How did I not know you read romance and horror novels?" He mumbles. You shrug a little.

"I'm not sure. You've seen my room when we were younger."

"I admittedly didn't look at your books too much." He chuckles, a small smirk on his face. "I was more preoccupied with looking at my friend's pretty cousin." He turns his head a little, rubbing his nose against your jaw. Your cheeks flush a bit.

"Somehow I never noticed how big of a flirt you were." You laugh softly, leaning back against him a little.

"I can tell. I was flirting as much as my 14 year old self could back then." He chuckles. "You thought I was being cute." He kisses your cheek as you giggle. He straightens up, placing another kiss to the top of your head. He looks around, eyes mostly scanning the books when he sees a familiar face walk in. His mouth turns down into a frown.

"Munchkin, let's go look at some more books upstairs. Maybe you can find something I'd like. I trust your taste." He smiles and lets you go, one hand immediately going back to your lower back as he leads you upstairs.

He lets you up the stairs first, hand not leaving you for long. He turns his head to look behind him, seeing if Hyunjin had noticed them. His brows furrow as he sees a girl attach herself to Hyunjin's arm, the male hugging her afterwards. He quietly scoffs and follows you up the stairs.

He looks around with you, keeping an eye out to make sure your ex doesn't come upstairs. You do manage to find a few things you'd think he would like. Jeongin smiles softly as he watches you thinking hard about what he would like. When you think you're set, he brings you back downstairs, keeping an eye out for Hyunjin again, but manages to not see him.

"Did you want to go on a picnic this weekend, noona? We can even bring a book or two if you'd want." He asks as you both walk back out to his car.

"That would be great, Innie. I haven't been on a picnic since I was a kid." You smile up at him before climbing into the car. He smiles wide, his eyes all but disappear. He shuts your door and turns to walk around to the driver side. He sees Hyunjin, meeting his gaze. Hyunjin's eyes flick to you in the car and back to Jeongin. The younger one doesn't react, but just walks to his side and climbs in. Starting the car, he pulls out of his spot and drives away, Hyunjin watching the whole time.

——

You're at work, sitting in the cubicle you share with Jeongin. Both of you were social media managers for your department. You made sure everything posted to the site was appropriate and acceptable. There were two others on the other side of your office as well, as your office was large.

Jeongin looks at you over his screen, smiling when he sees how focused you are. He looks down in front of him and writes something on a piece of paper and slides it to you. You glance at him and raise an eyebrow before grabbing the paper.

'Anything special you want for our picnic date?'

You can't help the soft smile that grows on your lips. You write back and slide the paper back over.

'Sandwiches and fruit?'

He grins and nods.

——

Work flies by and you're back home with Jeongin. Before you could even get your shoes off, Jeongin had his hands and lips on you. His hands found their way up your shirt, running along your soft skin, lips against yours as he kisses you deeply.

"I need you, noona.." he whispers against your lips. You gently grab his shirt as you start unbuttoning the fabric.

"Take me then, Innie." You whisper back. He groans softly, feeling himself twitch in his pants. He starts to pull your shirt off you, pulling back momentarily to pull the fabric over your head, tossing it on a chair in the living room. He looks you over, his eyes full of admiration.

"You are so beautiful, noona. Just absolutely gorgeous inside and out." He leans down and places a few kisses to your breasts as he reaches up your front to unhook your bra, pulling it off your shoulders and tossing it to your discarded shirt. He groans again, cupping your breasts in his hands. He massages them, feeling his cock getting painfully hard.

"Innie.." you moan softly as you pull his shirt open. He smiles and lets you take it and toss it. Your hands are now touching his bare chest and stomach. He flexes his muscles under your touch, chuckling when you grin. He hooks his thumbs into your skirt and panties, slowly pushing them down off your hips, pooling around your still heeled feet.

He chuckles and helps you step over them. He crouches down and helps you take your shoes off, letting his fingertips touch the skin of your ankles. You shiver under his touch, a soft moan escapes you. He smirks and stands up, picking you up just after. He carries you to the kitchen and sits you on the island counter.

"Hi, Innie." You smile at him, now just about eye level with him.

"Hi, my munchkin." He smiles back. His eyes held so much love for you. He leans forward and pecks your lips as he undoes his pants. He pushes them off his hips, his cock springing free and kicking his clothes out of the way.

He steps up between your knees when you open them, a soft groan escapes his throat when he sees how wet you are for him. He kisses you softly, letting his cock press against you. He places his hands on your ass, gently pulling you closer to the edge as he kisses you. You moan softly into his mouth as his cock presses against your clit a little.

Reaching between you both, you gently grab his length and slowly stroke him for a moment before lining him up with your entrance. He pulls back to watch your hands, breathing a little hard. You lean back a little, planting one hand on the countertop behind you. He gently places his hands on your hips and slowly pushes into you with your help.

You let out a breathy moan. No matter how many times he fucks you, it's always a stretch. Not that you mind, he fills you so deliciously. Jeongin watches as his cock disappears inside you, moving one hand to your belly, feeling himself sliding inside you.

"Fuck, noona…you're still so tight, still taking me so well.." he mumbles, his eyes flicking up to your face when he bottoms out. You were leaning back on your hands, head tilted back and eyes closed. He smiles and leans down over you to place kisses along your collarbone and the tops of your breasts. You smile softly and lift your head to look at him.

He looks at you without lifting his head, a playful smile on his lips. He slowly starts thrusting into you, kissing down your breast to your nipple. He gently nips at the bud, making you gasp. He slowly fucks into you, licking and kissing your nipples. You arch your back a bit, pushing your breasts into his face. He chuckles when you do, knowing you're teasing him.

"What are you doing, munchkin?" He flattens his tongue and licks across your nipple. You moan his name softly.

"I'm—ah—getting teased by this cute little fox." You giggle and moan out when he thrusts hard once into you.

"Mm. Are you now?" He presses down on your belly where his cock is lightly, making you feel him more. You arch your back again, your head falling back as you moan his name. He grins and pulls out of you. Before you have the chance to protest, he's pulling you off the counter and turning you around to bend over it.

He chuckles as he pushes back into you, making you moan loudly. He places his hand on your back between your shoulder blades, keeping you down as he grinds into you a few times.

"Ahh…Jeongin…" you moan loudly. He grins and starts fucking into you hard but slow.

"Yes, noona?" He places his other hand on your ass, gently kneading the flesh there.

"Fuck.." you groan.

"I thought that's what I was doing, munchkin?" He laughs, leaning down over you, moving his forearms to either side of you, caging you in. You can't help but let out a laugh at his comment.

"Faster, please, Innie." You moan when he grinds slowly again.

"Noona wants it faster?" You nod. He hums before slowly picking up his pace. He stands back up and gently pulls you back so you're flush against him. He wraps one arm around your waist, his other hand going up to your throat. You moan softly, letting your head fall back against his chest. He chuckles and fucks up into you, gently squeezing your throat. Your back arches as your cunt clenches around him. You can feel the knot in your belly tightening.

"You like that, munchkin? You like my hand around your throat?" He mumbles out, squeezing your throat gently again. You moan as you clench around him again. He chuckles, his chest vibrating against your back. Jeongin squeezes a little harder as he fucks into you faster, his hand on your belly moves down so he can rub your clit. You arch your back, moaning louder.

He presses the heel of his hand into your belly, feeling his cock move inside you, his fingers moving fast on your clit. You almost scream his name as you cum. He gently squeezes your neck again, making your orgasm much stronger. You hold onto any part of him you can as he continues his ministrations, loosening the grip on your throat. He groans in your ear as he thrusts up into you hard once more, cumming deep inside you. He holds you up, both of you breathing hard.

"How do you feel, munchkin?" He leans his head down and kisses across your cheek, gently rubbing his fingers along your sweaty skin.

"Sleepy." You mumble between heavy breaths.

"Wanna take a bath and take a nap?" He kisses behind your ear. You nod again, eyes struggling to stay open. "Gotta stay awake in the bath at least, noona." He smiles.

——

Once bathed and dressed, he lays you in his bed and tucks you in. Kissing your temple softly. He mumbles something about dinner, but your tired brain didn't catch much of what he said. He chuckles and stands up. He watches you for a moment before quietly stepping out of the bedroom. He orders dinner and cleans up the kitchen, picking up the laundry you both discarded and wiping down the surfaces you were both on.

When you awoke from your nap, you walked out to the living room to find Jeongin sitting on the couch, taking out containers on the coffee table. You walk over to him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips, you lay against him and lay your head on his shoulder.

"Thank you, Innie." You mumble into his neck. He smiles and gently wraps an arm around you.

"For what, noona?" He rubs your back softly.

"Everything." You shrug a little. "For being my best friend. For everything you've done for me growing up. For giving me a safe place to stay."

"Of course, noona. I would do everything in my power to make you happy and safe." He gently squeezes you to emphasize how serious he is. "You're my favorite munchkin, and seeing you happy, makes me happy." He places soft kisses to any part of you he can reach, making you giggle.

"I'm your only munchkin, Innie." You smile softly.

"You're right. My munchkin." He wraps both arms around you and squeezes you in a hug. You giggle again and hug him back. After a moment, he releases you and pats your ass. "Now, eat your dinner noona."

You pout but climb off his lap and sit next to him on the couch. He smiles when he sees you pouting and points to which containers are yours. You thank him again and grab one and eat. He reaches over and softly grabs the back of your neck, massaging gently. You let your head fall forward a bit as he does, trying to concentrate on your food.

"You ready for the weekend, noona? It's supposed to be warm, so perfect picnic weather." He says, rubbing his thumb in a circle against your skin. You nod, a quiet 'mhmm' comes from you. "Maybe we can go for ice cream after?"

You smile softly as your eyes close. "I'd enjoy that very much, Innie." He watches your body relax, a small smile playing at his lips. He leaned over and placed soft, loving kisses to your cheek.

"Finish eating, munchkin. We can watch something and cuddle until you're tired." He whispers, running his nose against your skin. The action makes a pleasant chill go down your spine, making you shiver. Jeongin chuckles and pulls away, sitting back against the back of the couch. He lets his hand drop down to your lower back.

You turn your head and stick your tongue out at him with a smile on your face before turning to finish eating. He laughs and calls you cute. When you finish, he gets up and places a kiss to the top of your head, winking at you when you look up at him.

He cleans up and quickly washes the dishes before coming back to the living room. He finds you laying on the couch, your head on one of the throw pillows as you watch the tv. He smiles and lays on top of you, settling his hips between your legs. He places his head on your breasts. You laugh softly and place one of your hands on his head, carding your fingers through his soft hair. He carefully tucks his hands under you as he cuddles into you.

"My noona.." he mumbles quietly.

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You expected that version of him.

But he didn’t blush this time.

He didn’t look away.

He just stared.

Still. Unblinking.

And something in your stomach dropped.

“What?” you asked, half-laughing, half-shrinking under the weight of his silence.

His voice was quiet. Low. A little too calm. “Say it again.”

You blinked. “Say what?”

“That I’m cute.”

You smiled, cautious now. “You are. You’ve always been—”

He stood.

Just like that. No warning.

He stood, and every bit of lightness between you evaporated.

Each step he took toward you felt calculated. Measured. Like he was making sure you saw it coming this time. His gaze locked onto yours as he stopped between your knees, hands stuffed into his pockets, chin tilted down just enough to shadow his eyes.

Your breath hitched.

“I’m not a fucking kid,” he said, voice gravel. “Not your sweet little safety blanket. Not the guy you get to run to when the others break your heart.”

“Jeongin—”

“I’m not done.”

His hand came up, slid into your hair—slow, almost tender.

Then he pulled.

Hard.

Your head tipped back with a gasp, eyes wide, pulse jumping.

“You treat me like I’m harmless,” he muttered, leaning in. His breath brushed your cheek. “Like I’m something soft. Easy to poke at or just to laugh with.”

You couldn’t speak. Wouldn’t have known what to say if you tried.

“Do you know how many fucking times I’ve let you do it?” he asked, voice tight, strained like he was holding something dangerous behind his teeth. “How long I’ve kept my mouth shut while you flirted with everyone else? Called me cute like it didn’t mean anything?”

Your chest rose too fast.

He smirked when he noticed.

“That’s what I thought.”

His hand let go of your hair, but not to give you space—only to drag down your body with maddening slowness. Fingertips ghosting over your throat, your collarbone, your chest. Stopping just above your ribs.

“Let me guess,” he said, gaze dropping to your lips. “You thought I’d never say anything. That I’d always be safe?. Always ‘cute’?”

The silence between you was a crackling fuse.

And then, he leaned down—so close your lips almost brushed, your knees pressed against his thighs.

“You were wrong,” he whispered.

You felt the snap. The shift. The air in the room pulled tight around you like wire, sharp enough to slice. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

He was burning.

You could taste the warning on his breath, the way his jaw tensed when you didn’t look away. Your throat dried, your thighs instinctively pressing together under his gaze—but he didn’t let you move.

“Don’t look scared now,” he murmured, eyes dark. “You started this.”

He sank to his knees.

And you didn’t dare breathe.

While he was on his knees, it didn’t feel like it was for you.

It felt more like a hunt.

Jeongin’s hands slid up the insides of your thighs like he owned them—firm, calloused fingers leaving heat in their wake as he pushed your legs open without a single ounce of hesitation.

Your body obeyed before your mind caught up.

“You really think I’m cute?” he muttered, voice low, almost bored, like he wasn’t dragging your shorts down your hips and tossing them somewhere over his shoulder. “Still wanna pat my head, huh? Talk down to me like I’m not already thinking about how you’ll sound when you’re crying on my cock?”

You flinched.

Not from fear.

From the raw heat of it—how brutal the words landed. How much you hated that you were already soaked for him.

He smirked like he knew.

Of course he knew.

Jeongin’s hands gripped your thighs again, rougher this time. Spreading you wide and dragging you to the edge of the couch like you were his fucking property. His shoulders pushed your legs apart as he settled between them, eyes dark and unreadable as he leaned in—and kissed the inside of your thigh like it pissed him off to be this gentle.

“I should’ve done this a long time ago,” he whispered. “Should’ve stopped pretending I was okay being your little comfort toy.”

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but your thoughts shattered the second his mouth touched you.

Hot. Wet. Relentless.

He didn’t tease. Didn’t ease you in.

He devoured you.

Tongue dragging up your slit with messy precision, lips latching onto your clit like he was punishing it for every time you made him feel small. He groaned into you, low and rough, arms locking around your thighs to keep you still.

“You don’t get to squirm,” he muttered, mouth full. “You wanted to fuck around? Now you’re gonna take it.”

Your head fell back, hips jerking—instinct, helplessness. But he was stronger than you remembered. Stronger than you’d let yourself notice. His grip tightened, holding you open, keeping you spread while his tongue moved in cruel circles that never let up, never gave you space to breathe.

“Jeongin—” you gasped, voice already trembling.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t look up.

Just groaned again, the sound vibrating straight into your cunt, dragging another whimper out of your chest.

“Say my name again,” he said, voice thick and rough. “Say it like I’m the one wrecking you. Not some puppy. Not your little safe zone.”

You didn’t say it.

You moaned it.

Loud. Broken. Desperate.

And it made him smile.

That smug, dangerous twist of his lips as he pulled back—licking you off his mouth like he was tasting victory.

He stood, towering over you again.

Unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out with no ceremony, no warning—already flushed, already dripping, already fucking furious.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, voice flat, but his eyes were raging. “’Cause I’m not holding back.”

Your pulse thudded in your throat.

“Do it,” you whispered.

That was all he needed.

He grabbed your hips, dragged you down to meet him—and then he slammed in.

One thrust. One brutal, breath-stealing drive that knocked the moan straight out of you.

You arched, fingers scrabbling for anything—his shoulders, the couch, the air—while he bottomed out inside you, cock pulsing deep as he held you there and breathed through his teeth.

“Fucking tight,” he growled, hips twitching as he settled into the heat. “All that attitude and this is how your pussy welcomes me? Dripping for the guy you thought was safe?”

Your back arched again, lips parting—but you couldn’t even find the words. His cock was thick, stretching you wide, claiming every inch like it was owed to him.

And when he started to move?

There was nothing careful about it.

No rhythm. No pace. Just fucking—raw, punishing, like he needed to bury every emotion he’d ever swallowed in the drag of his hips.

“Every time you flirted with them—every time you laughed in my face—this is what I thought about,” he hissed, fucking into you like he was chasing your breath. “Fucking ruining you. So you’d never forget.”

You tried to speak. Tried to moan. But your body didn’t belong to you anymore—it belonged to him. To the rage behind his hands, the bruising grip on your hips, the unforgiving stretch inside you.

“You don’t get to make me feel small,” he spat, leaning over you, pressing his forehead to yours. “Not anymore.”

You whimpered, eyes burning.

Because he wasn’t just inside you.

He was everywhere.

And it wasn’t even close to over.

“Look at me.”

Jeongin’s voice was sharp—clipped and low, like a command wrapped in a growl. His hand came up fast, grabbing your jaw and forcing your gaze to his, his cock still driving deep with every punishing thrust.

“Don’t fucking look away. You wanted to play with me? You watch me now.”

Your lips parted on a silent moan, eyes wide, glassy. His eyes were blazing—no trace of the boy you used to ruffle, the one you’d teased without consequence. This wasn’t him being bold.

This was him unhinged.

He spat, filthy and rough, and kissed you again—harder this time. All teeth and tongue, breath-stealing, possessive. He didn’t want your submission.

He wanted your surrender.

And you were giving it—more with every second.

“You don’t even know what to do with me, do you?” he gritted out against your mouth, hips snapping faster, angrier. “Not so smug now. Can’t say a fucking word.”

He slammed in deep again, holding there, grinding hard enough to make you whimper—and it only made him grin.

“That’s what I thought.”

Your body twitched, hands scrabbling for balance—but he wasn’t done.

He released your jaw only to catch both wrists and pin them above your head with one hand. The other snuck down between you, sliding across your swollen clit with brutal accuracy.

You jerked.

“Yeah,” he said, watching your face fall apart. “There she is. My little bratty tease, all cock-drunk and helpless.”

You cried out. And he loved it.

He rubbed fast, relentless—your clit throbbing under his touch as he kept fucking you through every twitch, every shake, every broken moan.

“You gonna cum for me again?” he taunted, eyes gleaming. “Gonna scream for the guy you thought was harmless?”

Your back arched hard, heat rising too fast, too sharp, too deep.

“F-Fuck—Jeongin—!”

He leaned down, breath hot at your ear.

“Say it louder.”

You did.

Loud enough for the walls to hear.

Loud enough for the shame to hit later.

But in the moment? All that existed was him—his cock, his hands, his voice dragging you to pieces.

And then it hit.

Another orgasm, blinding, brutal—ripping through you like fire.

You clenched down around him so hard he groaned, thrust stuttering as your body convulsed beneath him.

“There it is,” he hissed, burying himself deeper. “Fucking knew I could break you.”

But he didn’t stop. He kept going.

Even after your body went limp.

Even after you sobbed out a half-choked plea.

“P-Please,” you gasped. “I c-can’t—Jeongin—please, I—”

His thrusts faltered. That was the first crack.

Not your begging—but the sound of your voice when you said his name like it meant something again.

Like you were scared he’d gone too far.

And maybe, deep down, he was too.

But he didn’t say anything.

Didn’t pull out right away.

Just froze there inside you, chest heaving, sweat dripping from his jaw to your throat.

You could feel it then—the shift.

The rage settling.

The silence flooding back in.

He looked down at you, red-faced, tear-streaked, trembling beneath him—and something in his eyes flickered.

Not regret. Not guilt. Just awareness.

He let go of your wrists. Pulled out slowly. Sat back on his heels with a quiet exhale, rubbing his hands down his face like he was trying to ground himself.

Neither of you spoke.

Not yet.

The only sounds were your hitched breathing and the faint tremble in your thighs as the overstimulation ebbed into dull, throbbing heat.

And then—

“…I’m sorry,” you whispered.

His gaze snapped to you.

“I didn’t mean to…” You swallowed, hard. “Didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t enough.”

Jeongin scoffed softly. “You didn’t make me feel anything. I just stopped letting you ignore it.”

You nodded. Slow. Shaky.

“I won’t call you cute again,” you said, voice thin.

“Good,” he muttered. “’Cause next time you do…”

His eyes dropped to your body—wrecked, marked, dripping.

“…You’ll get this all over again.”

And God help you, the worst part was—

You wanted it.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Authors note: And thats it for the maknae 🥹❤️ dont forget to like and follow and comment!!! Reblog too lol. I say this everyday. Look out for the other members series

The next morning marks a return to routine.

You roll out of bed half awake, sleep-mused and ready for murder. Your mood isn’t improved by the way you’d gone to bed - still in your work clothes with day-after mascara gluing your eyelids together.

A quick stop by the restroom to strip and scrub your face is a necessity, otherwise you’re liable to just crawl back into bed and rot there. You brush your teeth while you’re there, doing your best to ignore the remaining traces of grey streaks down your cheeks where your eyeliner hadn’t been as water-proof as advertised.

You don’t even know why you’d cried. After all, it’s not like you were the one rejected by your soulmate for no reason.

You do your best to shake off the maudlin feeling of the morning, ambling your way into the kitchen. As tired as you are, you still spot your twenty on the counter where you’d left it. You press your lips together to stop the bottom one from trembling and open the fridge. There’s a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast inside.

Taylor, freak of nature that he is, has been up for hours already, you know. He’d probably been up and out the door before the sun had even thought about rising. Weirdo.

your roommate is well aware of how non-functional you can be in the morning, so it’s not unusual of him to leave you leftovers when he makes breakfast. The little note on top isn’t new either, usually a reminder, grocery list, or a little encouragement for your day. The whole thing makes you smile, usually.

Today that little note makes your eyes prick with a new wave of tears.

‘Give yourself a chance. Bet’s still on <3’

You very deliberately do NOT cry, though it’s a near thing. You’d done enough crying last night. But if you sniffle a bit into your eggs, well. That’s for you to know, isn’t it?

You leave the money where it is.

It’s a Tuesday, so after breakfast you drag yourself back to your room to throw on your largest, rattiest, t-shirt and a pair of leggings to head to the gym.

You can’t help it when eyes catch on the newly-bloomed marks on your skin as you strip away your sleepwear. You take a moment to wonder why looking at your mark, a daily ritual you’ve kept for years, feels odd to you.

It occurs to you, only after several long seconds of staring blankly at your stomach, that you hadn’t taken the time to look at your mark at all since since you’d met your first soulmate. Things have been... hectic, to say the least.

It’s no wonder looking at it feels weird. It might as well be a whole new mark, for all the changes that have happened since you last saw it.

You decide, in the name of returning to your routine for good, that you can’t skip even this tiny part of your daily rituals.

You shuffle over to your closet, swinging open the door to reveal the full-length mirror hanging on the other side. You don’t bother with your usual rounds of self-depreciation or daily affirmations. Instead, you find your eyes glued to droopy purple petals and blankets of white stars across your abdomen.

The names of the flowers come to mind with ease as you trace gentle fingers over echoes of delicate petals. ‘Bellflowers’ You recite to yourself, drawing your finger up thin stalks and back down dipped heads. ‘Edelweiss’ you muse, lightly tapping each fuzzy white star.

The knowledge comes easily to you, not from any cosmic force, but because of course it does. Your sister hadn’t been wrong when she’d said that asking a person’s favorite flower had been basically an obsession of yours.

The habit had started well before you’d gotten your mark. Before you’d even properly known what soulmates were, really.

Gardening with your mother had started as a way for her to drag you out of the house to get some sun while keeping an easy eye on you. Before your sister was born you’d spent many a joyous afternoon learning to work the soil beside your mother.

After the advent of your favorite gremlin, you’d spent those afternoons tending to the family garden alone.

You remember being grateful to the newborn back then. Those solitary afternoons were some of the most peaceful in your memory.

At some point the ‘family garden’ had become more ‘your garden’. Your mother wouldn’t even bother to plan it out with you by your sister’s toddler years. She’d drive you to the store, hand you a bit of cash, and leave it all in your tiny hands.

You’d spend hours researching the best ways to nurture your plants. What flowers liked being planted together, which ones should be separated. You learned about soil types and the nutrients found in them. You learned about ph. values, how to measure them, and why they mattered. Anything to have your garden thriving more brightly, more beautifully, for longer.

If you weren’t in the garden you were in the library by your house, nose buried in a gardening book.

You vividly remember the day it all went wrong.

It hadn’t even been that dramatic, as you recall. At least, not in terms of your parent’s usual fights. It was heartbreak- despair- that marked the day, instead of fear.

You’d been digging up weeds, clawing up deep roots with your gloved hands and a trowel, when your father had come storming outside. You don’t even remember what he’d said. Something about you always taking your mother’s side because of your shared hobby, you think.

Never mind that the woman hadn’t put so much as a toenail to the dirt since your sister had been born.

He hadn’t let up for quite a while, if memory serves. Stood there yelling at you in your safe space for close to an hour. Maybe two, but your child-brain couldn’t be trusted with the time. It might have just been minutes, now that you think about it.

Nonetheless, he’d yelled and yelled and yelled. He hadn’t trampled on or broken anything, hadn’t even made sense. And yet, when he’d finally left, everything was different.

The blooms you’d worked so hard to nurture were no longer beautiful, and the soil you’d once called home was no longer safe.

You hadn’t tended another garden after that season. You’d seen your plants to winter, and you’d let go. You’d turned away from the sun and soil and leaned into your books and silly questions to fill the hole left behind.

You’re sure you left claw marks in the dirt.

Something like a gentle humming fills your soul, and you notice how tightly you're clutching the garden around your waist. You gingerly pry your hands away and study the crescent moons you’ve left behind, soft skin indented where petals should have ripped.

You wonder if you’ll leave claw-marks in this garden too.

You tear your eyes away from the mirror, ignoring the gentle tingling up your side where your fingers had dug in. You quickly toss on a camisole, forgoing your usual privacy wraps, and your t-shirt over that.

There was nothing for emptying your mind quite like running yourself into the ground at the gym. With full awareness that you’re going to regret your gym session later, you flee your apartment.

Maybe jogging all the way to gym wasn’t such a great idea. It’d sounded fantastic at the time, a head start on your cardio and a way to remove yourself from your negative headspace before you tried to toss around weights you barely knew how to use.

It had sort of worked, but now you hadn’t even entered the building and you were already a sweaty, panting, mess.

After guzzling down half of your water bottle you enter the building, resignation in your heart. Cardio wasn’t even your focus today.

The automatic doors slide open with their usual swish, and you’re greeted by the familiar stale smell all gyms seem to share, no matter how clean. It’s comforting, even if you do wish you could go home already.

There’s someone already at the receptionist’s desk when you approach, talking in slow and measured English. You try not to be annoyed with the tiny delay, but your mood really hadn’t been helped by running from your thoughts, no matter what you’d hoped.

Alas, you’ve ventured into the public and so you’ve encountered a member of the public. Shocker. You cross your arms and bite back irritation that this complete stranger hadn’t done anything to earn.

Luckily enough, the low and measured cadence of the stranger’s voice is soothing enough to zone out to. Unfortunately, your latest obstacle is the only thing around to rest your eyes on, and so you find yourself studying his form.

His back is broad and built, huge biceps on display in a tight fitting black t-shirt. You kinda wanna squish them.

A vivid tattoo sleeve runs all the way down to his wrist, and you find your stare glued to it. Large boldly colored flowers take up the majority of the space, vague outlines of crashing waves and rolling mists fills in the rest in a luxurious combination of oriental art styles.

You can’t help but think it doesn’t look finished.

Dragging your eyes away from such beautiful ink is quite a task, but you don’t want to seem judgmental for your admiration. That arduous labor is made infinitely easier by how fine the man himself is.

You really can’t help the way your eyes trace up and down his form. It should be impossible, you think, to somehow bulk up in only the right places, but by Jove his man has done it. You’re quite jealous, honestly.

Your eyes come to a rest on the stranger’s backside. Quite jealous, indeed.

You try to shake yourself from your admiration, reminding yourself that there were very many well-muscled men in this place and that you’d always endeavored to keep a polite line-of-sight, even when they don’t. It hadn’t even been a hard ask, until now. You drag your gaze back up to the back of his head.

You’d be polite if it killed you. Even if neither the stranger or the scrawny receptionist had noticed your wandering gaze.

Especially then.

While you were.... distracted... the man’s conversation with the receptionist seemed to be going a whole lot of nowhere. From what you can gather, he’s looking for a short-term membership, and the receptionist is trying to tell him they don’t do that.

You know this to be true, even the trial period was an entire month. You’d specifically chosen this gym for that reason. If you hadn’t been able to stick it out for a month, you know you’d have never used the place enough to justify a membership.

Your sympathies to this stranger, it seems he really just needs a little less than a week. You know there are some no-commitment type places not too far though, so you wonder why he’s stuck on this place.

Their back and forth goes a while longer, but it’s evident that the beautifully-built stranger can’t really argue his case properly. Whether because of the obvious language barrier he’s working with, or because he’s run out of arguments, you can’t be sure.

Eventually he steps to the side to make a call, and you’re able to approach the counter.

The receptionist (you think his name is Jake. The owner’s nephew, if you recall correctly) looks relieved to see you after whatver hassling the stranger had given him. He lazily waves the clipboard and it’s sign-in sheet at you in greeting. You take the clipboard, trading him your membership card and driver’s license for it, and turn to prop your knee up on the counter to balance it while you write. Incidentally, your choice of position keeps the stranger in your line of sight.

You magnanimously ignore Jake’s gaze wandering to your chest, if only because you’re still looking not-so-respectfully at the tattooed stranger a few feet away.

“So what was that all about?” You ask him as you hand back the clipboard. He shrugs at you as he types a second longer.

“Some big-shot who needs a security detail,” He answers, unimpressed, “Says this is the only gym in, like, five miles of his hotel that he doesn’t need an entourage to go to.”

You hum your understanding, now trying to place if the handsome stranger was someone you knew of.

Such situations weren’t uncommon for this gym. Celebrities that actually lived in LA weren’t spotted here very often but, since it was settled very close to quite a few high-security luxury hotels, the building saw it’s fair share of famous faces.

Security was kept quite tightly, and a certain code of conduct was expected amongst the gym’s members. It was another justification for the long trial period, wherein one could only access the front room with the basic weights and machines. All the fancy stuff (including a pool, rock wall, dance studio, and all sorts) was in the back.

It was also another reason you yourself were a patron here. The high security and strict standards made for a quiet and comfortable atmosphere.

At least, as long as you ignored the judgmental stares.

“What’s the issue, then?” You question Jake, “Doesn’t the owner make exceptions for high-profile clients?” You phrase it as a question, but you know he does. The unfamiliar faces that pop up for a few days every now and then wouldn’t show up otherwise.

Jake just sighs like he’s had this conversation a thousand times. Considering the celebrity (?) waving his hands around as he spoke rapidly into his phone not far away, maybe he had.

“He does, but he’s out of town and no one else can adjust the contracts.” He eventually explains. He finally hands you your stuff back, and you hum consideringly as you put the cards back in your wallet.

Another glance at the furrowed brows on the stranger’s masked face has pity welling up your throat.

You turn your gaze to focus on Jake.

“Do I still have that visitor pass?” You ask him, knowing that he still has your details up. Jake glances at you with a raised eyebrow, but obligingly checks the computer.

“Yup,” He confirms, “You’ve been paying for it since you dragged your poor roommate in here that one time. Why?”

“Can he use it?” you nod your head to the frustrated stranger. From where you’re sat, still perched on the edge of the desk, it looks oddly like he’s begging whoever’s on the other line.

Jake levels you with his most deadpan stare. It’s quite a good one, completely unimpressed. You think it must be something about customer service that allows him to make that face. Or maybe it’s just you.

“You realize that your visitor pass is you vouching for your visitor’s character, right?” He reminds you, “If he does anything, breaks anything, pisses off the wrong lifeguard it’ll be on your head.”

You just shrug. It’s not like you couldn’t find a new gym if you had to. You’d miss this one, with it’s quiet atmosphere and abundant amenities, but you didn’t require it’s security and discretion like some of the other clients did.

“I’ve got a good feeling about it.” Is all you tell Jake. It’s not even a lie.

The poor boy just rolls his eyes at you. He still turns to rifle through the desk for the right form for you to fill out though, so you’ll take it.

“You a fan of his or something?” Jake asks as he hands you a different clipboard.

“Nope!” You answer cheerfully, starting to fill out the form, “No idea who he is.”

Jakes huffs an incredulous laugh, and turns a considering gaze on your new friend. And the stranger does have to be a friend now, because “some guy” is not an option on your paperwork.

“I bet he’s a wrestler,” he finally says after a long moment, “Or a sportswear model.”

You gently bop him on the head with your clipboard, “I refuse to participate in your speculation.” You admonish, ignoring his whining.

“I’ll show you his picture when you leave,” He smirks back, “and whatever google says about him.” He shrugs when you send him a cutting glare, “It’s not speculation then.”

“Respect your customer’s privacy, you weirdo.” You scold. He just laughs as you hand him the form, all filled out and just waiting for the stranger’s signature. You know full well that Jake will go through with it, regardless of what you say, so you give up easily.

He won’t get fired as long as you don’t blab outside of the gym. Privileges of nepotism. You exchange farewells as you hop off the counter, and he begins to wave over Mr. Celebrity. You meet the eyes of you on-paper friend and offer him a quick nod before you scuttle off deeper into the building.

Hopefully he’d be too grateful of your offer to find you terribly strange.