#ot8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you hate working for them, to be honest.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the manly equivalent of slamming a door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

men.

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

“y/n.”

“y/n get me water.”

“y/n my in ear is messed up again.”

“y/n where’s the schedule?”

“y/n, hurry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

once he did the finger point while staring straight ahead.

you almost broke his finger.

you handed him the thing and he went “mhm”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

y/n.

y/n.

y/n.

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

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

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

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

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

hyunjin clicks his tongue. “well?”

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

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

you two lowk like each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

they know you won’t fuck them over.

the biggest change happened because of chan.

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

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

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

it was messy, but sure, they’re men.

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

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

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

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

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

your mouth went dry. he looked so hot.

chan just shook his head.

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

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

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

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

plus… you’re actually fun to be around.

they realized that.

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

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

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

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

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

all because he saw that chan put trust in you.

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

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

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

“here. it’s yours now.”

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

“finish it.”

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

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

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

“y/n, bounce me.”

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

the unprofessional ever.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you’d been promoted from staff to lowkey pet.

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

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

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

fucking men. fucking hoes.

fucking unbelievable.

fucking sweet.

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

jeongin is already passed out in his room.

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

the room smells like him. you like it.

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

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

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

he nods, listening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

the silence that follows feels different than before.

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

chan keeps glancing over.

then he clears his throat. “y/n.”

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

“would you… be down for it?”

huh?

“down for what?”

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

“sure.”

“sure?”

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

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

holy shiiiiit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“alright. if you’re sure.”

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

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

wait, no, i meant to say professional.

totally fucking professional.

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

“mm?”

“thank you. seriously.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and jesus fucking christ.

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

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

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

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

his eyes go wide.

hungry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

looks obscene. looks like him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you’re really fucking good at this.

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

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

then you finally stop the foreplay.

you take him into your mouth.

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

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

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

his eyes actually cross.

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

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

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

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

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

the sounds he’s making are pure porn.

“y/n… fuck— y/n—”

music. to. your. fucking. ears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

good little assistant you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“no, it’s not about y/n.”

“then?”

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

the silence is killing them.

“…y/n blew me, okay?”

dead silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

chan buries his face in his hands, ears red.

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

“no fucking way—”

“how the hell did she take you?”

“you didn’t tell us?”

“did she swallow?”

“was it good?”

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

the room goes quiet.

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

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

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

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

“when’s my turn?“ hyunjin asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

uhuh there goes being professional and he knows that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but around you, so unprofessional.

which is horrible, but they keep doing it.

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

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

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

“tighter on the left.” he mutters.

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

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

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

seungmin is not touchy. respect tbh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and you can tell chan is fighting with himself sometimes.

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

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

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

they just want to hit.

bad.

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

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

and oh, hyunjin, the evil shit.

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

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

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

“to yours?”

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

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

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

and you’re tempted.

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

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

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

“i want you to suck me off.”

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

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

the confidence is insane.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah. just… keep it between us.”

“obviously.”

fucking liar.

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

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

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

“come here then.”

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

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

“look at you.” he mutters.

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

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

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

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

you’re here for work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you can always work with anything.

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

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

he’s enjoying the hell out of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

only if changbin knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

slut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were made for men.

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

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

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

“ah, yes, fuck. right there—”

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

a bitch to you at work, by the way.

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

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

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

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

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

you’re so turned on it hurts.

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

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

hyunjin is seeing heaven.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“told you i’d do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he looks so fucking disappointed it’s funny.

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

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

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

you don’t give a fuck about him.

???

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

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

so needy.

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

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

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

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

he wants you more now. fuck.

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

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

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

sigh.

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

group chat with the boys it is.

hyunjin: y/n sucked me off

hyunjin: came over

hyunjin: left already

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

han: WHAT

han: ???

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

jeongin: but also respect

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

hyunjin: both

jeongin: 🤤

felix: omg what

felix: my turn when

seungmin: respect ig

minho: 😂😂😂

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

chan: hyune what the fuck did you do?

changbin just seen the messages.

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

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

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

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

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

but mostly he’s horny again.

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

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

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

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

“morning, y/n.” the asshole.

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

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

“thanks. you sleep okay?”

you smile. “yeah, i did. you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

cute on purpose. these are actors.

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

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

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

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

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

tomorrow is going to be another long day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but they trust you though not to spill anything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what a time to be employed.

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

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

he wants that cookie so fucking bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

blowjob can NOT be this good.

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

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

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

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

these men have everything to lose.

but they’re still thinking with their dicks.

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

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

but they’re trained to charm.

they’re trained to get what they want.

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

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

so you go.

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

but the air is thick.

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

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

“y/n.”

you look up.

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

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

holy shit.

his eyes actually widen.

wow.

how did he get his lucky?

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

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

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

chan’s breath hitches, watching you.

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

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

chan’s fingers twitch against his legs.

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

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

“fuck… y/n…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

chan’s whole body shudders.

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

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

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

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

“thank you… fuck, thank you.”

you’re welcome, daddy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he reaches down to pull his shirt off.

chan. shirtless.

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

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

he actually has to whip his head up.

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

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

“thank you, y/n… god thank you…”

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

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

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

“ah, fuck— right there—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he starts thrusting.

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

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

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

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

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

he starts really pounding.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“fuck— yes— good girl, yeah.”

okay suddenly it doesn’t hurt.

who are you kidding it hurts so much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“anytime, chan.”

…

the air changes from the eye contact alone.

…is this really going to happen?

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

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

he shouldn’t.

he knows he shouldn’t.

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

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

is this really going to happen?

is he really about to cross that line?

fuck it.

he leans down, and kisses you.

line crossed.

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

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

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

his hands immediately find your ass.

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

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

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

he wants it so bad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

are you really letting your boss do this?

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

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

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

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

you cry out.

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

because oh… you like that?

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

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

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

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

chan might actually marry you.

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

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

“ah, fuck—” you cry out.

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

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

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

holy fuck.

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

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

he’s thinking about something.

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

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

the cheeky little shit.

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

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

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

it feels so fucking good.

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

point is, you’ve been pent up too.

and you really needed this tension now.

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

fuck. fine.

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

“c’mon…”

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

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

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

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

fuck. he’s so convincing.

no.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“it’s okay, chan. we’re good.”

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

for a long moment, neither of you says anything.

then you look at each other.

then you smile.

then you laugh.

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

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

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

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

“i won’t take it. you know i won’t.”

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

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

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

“goodnight, chan.”

“goodnight, y/n.”

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

jeongin’s door is still closed. good.

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

inevitable, really.

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

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

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

hot.

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

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

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

so the energy is… weird.

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

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

you nod and keep moving.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the tension is insane.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

they’re just boys. that’s the thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

but underneath it all you’re a walking mess.

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

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

he’s the worst. (for now)

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

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

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

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

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

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

especially the amount you’ve been getting from jeongin.

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

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

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

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

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

you keep doing your job. barely.

it’s hard.

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

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

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

이민호 — Lee Minho

서창빈 — Seo Changbin

황현진 — Hwang Hyunjin

한지성 — Han Jisung

이필릭스 — Lee Felix

김승민 — Kim Seungmin

양정인 — Yang Jeongin

══════════════════════════════════════

Ever since you started college, you’ve had one wish. One.

At every thanksgiving, every blow of candles, and every time the clock ticked 11 11. You would ask one single thing.

And that is for an improvement towards your sex life. Actually. To have one to begin with.

Having no experiences with guys, except once. Tragic. Extremely tragic one-time experience back in your senior year of high-school. Where you had this guy in your bedroom, kissing. It was hot, the way his lips brushed against yours was mouth watering. His tongue danced alongside yours, hands on your hips, fingers swiping underneath your shirt. Your back pressed against the desk when you accidentally bumped into your book collections. You hadn’t noticed at that time, frenzied by the heat of the moment, but he did. His body suddenly still, resembling a statue.

Mortified. You or him? Him because he found your disgusting stack of porn magazines scattered all over the floor. Or you because he found YOUR disgusting stack of porn magazines scattered all over the floor. Each sheet challenged the last in terms of vulgarity.

He had told you something that day, you can’t recollect what exactly. But you do remember the aftermath. And how ruined the rest of your year went, walking around with the title of ‘Femcel’ tagged to your back.

Now that you look back at it, it shouldn’t have been that controversial for a woman to be into this sort of content. But time has changed. And so did you.

Well, not really — but at least you're a player at hiding it. Now keeping your materials under your bed, drawers and closet. At first sight, your bedroom is the epitome of normalcy unless one digs in a shove deeper. Your book collections are filled with literacy media, and the art of photography. A mask, just like the one you put up at social interactions when you’re truly raging inside.

Nobody can know about the refuge you seek in your collections, touches, and laptop. Your beloved laptop — the one that holds many of your dirty secrets, and that you consult as soon as you return from a hard, hard day.

You can’t fumble this. College is a fresh start. Deciding to stick to your personal daily routine, within the blanket of your fantasies and delusions as soon as the sun sets, snuggly shielded from the outside world.

You’re almost proud of yourself for keeping up the act for almost a year now, and even having made some friends on campus. However, still no man. That’s your sole remorse, but perhaps it's for the better. Being around attractive guys gets you… strange. You’d rather not repeat the accident from years ago and increase the risk of being seen as a creep again.

—

Life is mocking you. It's got to be. You’re sure it’s laughing and pointing at you right now as you slam your fists on your professor’s counter.

“Ma’am, I can’t!” You protest, a bead of sweat rolling down your neck from how much you’ve been begging her for the last ten minutes.

She groans, tapping her heels against the tiles, rolling her chair in annoyance. “It’s just a project, miss. You've always aced them before. Why not now?”

“I can! I will.” You contradict yourself—but you have a valid reason! “Please let me change partners. I’m on my knees,” you whine, holding your hands together in a plea.

“For the last time. I can not do that. Your names have already been put together,” she replies, eyes serious and exhausted. Sinking back into her seat with a harsh intake of air.

“Pleeease,” you sob. Praying to whoever that is above, if there is someone, to hear your prayers, and to shake the mind of the middle aged woman before you. The middle-aged woman who is in absolute disbelief as we speak.

“Enough! This is worth your finals. Continue and I'll deduce your overall marks,” she snaps, rubbing her temples from an incoming headache. “You’re such a good student. What’s with you today?”

You press your lips together, arms falling to your sides in deflation. “Sorry. I understand...” It comes out as weak, defeated.

Wobbling your way back to your class, picturing yourself in an empty street—kicking imaginary pebbles and scrubbing in your misery.

How can you tell her that you absolutely cannot be paired with the Kim Seungmin from the baseball team, and the Yang Jeongin from the football team, because of how you act and how you think? And how you’re afraid of scaring them away and tarnishing your last bits of social reputation — since they belong to what you've been entirely avoiding ever since you stepped here.

The top hierarchy of the school.

A frathouse. Not just any, Stray Kids’ frathouse, the eight best athletes of the school. Being a weirdo to them, ruining your reputation, means being a weirdo to everyone who sets foot on this campus.

You're doomed.

You swear that you aren’t partaking in that. That you'll find a solution, anyhow, and get out of this situation. You swear—

Unfortunately, here you are: sitting across from Kim Seungmin.

Jeongin hasn’t arrived yet, having to meet his coach beforehand, to which you are thankful towards for giving you prepping time.

The silence is deafening, awkward. Your  sweaty palms flat on the wooden surface, trying your best not to constantly shuffle on the cushions of your seat, since the sound is embarrassing enough.

“So,” Seungmin breaks the silence, pen in hand.

His fingers absently click the edge, the noise loud in your head as you try not to stare at the length of them—how he uses his thumb to randomly flicker cap in a gentle rub.

“Yn?” he calls, snatching you from your intruding thoughts.

Your gaze snaps to his, breath catching unnecessarily. “Yes–?” You stammer, hoping that he didn’t catch on you gawking at his hands.

“You’re from Photography, right?” He asks, looking right at you.

If his aim is to make you even more nervous. It is working.

“Yes! How did you know?” You nod hastily, forcing a smile, voice raising a tad too much.

He blinks, brows furrowing. You can almost smell the embarrassment you’re about to face judging from his reaction alone.

“It’s written right here…” He points to the paper before you, underlining ‘Ln Yn: Photography Major’ with the tip of his pen.

You suck in your lips, smile lopsided. Cringing. “Right. Thought so,” you crisp out. If it was so obvious, then why ask?! 

“Anyway,” he mumbles, taking a breath. “The project. Do you have any ideas?”

“Right now? I thought we were supposed to wait for Jeongin,” you ask, confused from the sudden change of plans.

He glances over your shoulder, across the room, nudging his head forward. “He’s here.”

You face backwards to find Jeongin strolling forward, drink in hand.

The drink is cold, water droplets drip down his fingers. His grip on the cup is soft yet firm, the cup crumpling slightly under his hold. Weirdly attractive… No. Snap out of it, yn!

“Hey, what’s up?” he greets Seungmin first, shaking his hand with the free one. “Sorry, coach held me back,” he quickly apologizes, setting his belongings by the table before plopping down on the bench next to Seungmin.

Seungmin eyes him, raising a brow. “Looks more like that drink held you back,” he states, leaning heavy against the backrest, making himself comfortable. “Ain’t no way you lined up for that again.”

Jeongin scoffs, wiping the bangs sticking before his eyes. “Does it matter? I’m here now,” he replies, a tug of a grin forming when he finally notices your presence. “Oh. You are?” he asks, staring as if he was trying to decipher if he had ever seen you on campus before.

You’re about to reply when Seungmin cuts you, shallow annoyance grazing his tone. His tongue clicks. “I told you about her. She's the girl from photography,” he adds, hand aimlessly pointing at you.

It doesn’t seem to light any bulb inside his head, completely unaware of who you are. Now this is insulting. You’re a little hurt.

It’s okay… it must be because you kept it low at all costs. Avoiding guys like them. Not because of them, but you.

Their presences are a gateway towards cringe and awful interactions.

“Photography… I didn’t know that you preferred artistic girls. Your last girlfriend was pretty uncreative.” He says with an understanding nod, his smile never dropping.

You almost choke on your saliva. Your closed fist meets your lips, having to silently cough it out. The thought of you dating Kim Seungmin. He’s joking, it’s unreal. But tempting.

Your imagination betrays you, again.

You wonder if he would wait for you after your classes. Or if he would ask you to come see him after his baseball practice, all drenched in sweat from playing, asking you to hold his cap. His ungloved hand running through his wet hair as you stare in awe.

“You good, baby?” he’d ask you, waving his glove before you.

Calling you back to Earth.

A harsh sound. A snap of fingers, maybe.

“Hey— you good?”

You jolt up. Brought back from reverie with their stares glued to your figure. Skepticism to mild concern etching their expressions.

“All good— No worries…” you blurt out, clearing your throat to find your voice.

Jeongin hums, though he doesn’t seem to buy it. “I’m Jeongin. Yang Jeongin,” he introduces.

You give him a sound of acknowledgement, as if the entire campus doesn’t already know his name from being the goal keeper of the school. Being one of the most valuable members of the club, the youngest and the fairest. He’s known for attracting most of the fans and supporters, everybody rooting for his cheeky smile and cute dimples. And undeniably, the golden boy of the frathouse, introducing himself is stupid. But he's polite, you give him that.

“Back to the topic. How do we correlate our different majors?” Seungmin asks, looking at Jeongin then you, “Sports Science, Photography and… Business.” 

“The project's main idea is teamwork, right? Hmm,” Jeongin ponders, leaning forward onto the table. “Not clicking,” he mutters, resting his face on his palm, the other bringing his drink back to his lips. His plump lips, rosy and hydrated, seals the straw— sucking in the liquid. His Adam apple bobs with each swallow, some of the liquid catching at the corners of his lips.

You slip your hands under the table, fist bunching the fabric of your pants as they discuss the topic between themselves. Not bothering to ask you. You need to knock it out. And think. Properly this time.

Your focus drifts on the papers before you, the subject of the project. How does teamwork connect to you? To them. The careers they’ve been building. Your interests. Your interests?

Bingo!

“Uhm. I have an idea,” you interrupt, raising your hand from under. Nervous with how their chatter dies out, their full focus drawn to you. “You guys know how companies create merch for their athletes and teams. To promote them and stuff. They take pictures of them, and then bring them to the market to create cards for people to collect.”

They nod tentatively, intrigued by your statement. You squirm, not used to this. But you go on. “And sometimes, they have the coaches give statements about training and how the team cooperates to put on the magazines. I think...” your gaze shifts to Jeongin, lost in what you’re saying, “they teach that in Sports Science, coaching?”

He nods.

“So, what do you want to do with that?” Seungmin asks, noting down your ideas.

“I was thinking. Maybe we could create a magazine featuring the school’s athletic teams. If you’re okay with that,” you reply, hopeful.

They simultaneously smile, letting out an impressed ‘woah’.

“That’s actually a pretty solid idea,” Seungmin admits.

“That's cool,” Jeongin agrees, “You’re into sports? You don’t strike me as the type.” That last comment would have been snarky if it wasn’t situational. Choosing to ignore it.

“Ahh, not exactly.” you reply, coy. Who knew all these years of collecting players’ photocards would benefit you like this? How you used to fight day and night to get enough money to complete your sets.

You can’t help the tiny grin that curls your lips at their compliments, trying not to be too smug about this accomplishment. A small step is enormous for an ant. Progress is progress.

The rest of the session blinks by, the atmosphere easing up as you dive into the work. Soon, the cafeteria is less crowded, the students leaving one after another.

A vibration breaks your flow, attention shifting to where it originates.

“Oh, it's Chan. Said he is back to the dorms,” Jeongin says, phone in hand. Not giving any of you the chance to interfere, “I have to go,” he adds, already packing his belongings. He stands up, pulling his bag strap over his shoulder. “See you guys around?”

He's gone. Here you are alone with Seungmin again.

You glance around to find only a few students left, roaming the surroundings. Damn. How much time went by?

“You should go too. It's getting late,” Seungmin mentions, bringing the scattered documents from the hard surface together.

“Yeah, I'll get going then,” you reply, heaving from your seat, ready to turn on your heels in the opposite direction when he halts you.

“Wait, not so fast,” he sighs, standing up. “Give me your phone.”

You freeze. “What?” Why?! Does he know what's in it… is it obvious you're that type of person?

He squints at your bewildered expression, “To put my number in.”

To put my number in.

Oh. oh.

Those words will be engraved into your memory, forever. No matter the context, it doesn't matter when Kim Seungmin just asked for your number.

“Why do you keep zoning out? Do you have issues?” He grimaces at your slow blinking, as if you're entranced in some la-la-land.

“Your number? I couldn't possibly… I mean— I totally would but!” You reply with a laugh, waving your hand shyly to hide your abashed expression, rubbing the tip of your shoe nervously against the floor.

He scoffs, feeling the frustration bubbles behind his eyelids, hoping to dissipate it with a rub. Unbelievably unprofessional. “I need it to text you. To know when you're free for the next meet up. To create a group chat. Not to ask you out,” he inhales, letting out a big exhale. Gigantic even.

But not as gigantic as the hole you wish you to dig yourself into. Your head falls, closing your eyes momentarily. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Can I have it now?” He asks, his patience running thin.

Shamefully, you reach for your pocket, opening the contact app before handing it to him. He dials himself, the ringtone rings against your eardrums, shattering them. At least, it feels that way.

You avoided peeking at him all the way out, head hanging low. It was going so well.

You pray to wipe this whole interaction from your brain, to crash into a bus and suffer from amnesia. Taking back the oath of engraving into your memory forever. Should've known better than to think that, because this interaction will keep you up at night. For at least a few years if not forever.

You groan; slapping the heels of your palms against your forehead repetitively. “So embarrassing,” whining, in disbelief of what you had said back then. Shuffling with your cards to find the one for your dorm. The door clicks open and you're met with the sight of your roommate.

“You're back. I was just about to message you,” she exhales in relief, “I'm staying over at my boyfriend's tonight. Don't go anywhere and watch over the dorm.” Grabbing her shoes, putting them on. “Oh, and yn— feed my dog for me? You know where her food is,” she points to the top shelf in the kitchen before walking out of the door in a hurry, “thank you!”

She's gone. Her voice echoes down the hallway. Her audacity vibrates louder, booming.

You click your tongue, throwing your bag on the couch. Kicking the footing, only to hurt yourself in the process. This day can't get lamer. “What did I even do to deserve this sort of bad karma,” you sigh, rubbing off the sweat beads across your face.

You look down when you feel something lick at your ankle, Cassie, her dog. You're stuck in a loop where she goes out, tells you to watch over the dorm and her dog while she's busy getting laid. That one time when you hoped to object, she had told you “You never go out anyway. You're literally glued to your room.”

You hate that she's right.

“Stupid dog, stupid project, stupid boys,” you mumble in your misery just as your phone buzzes. You jump a millimeter. Startled.

A group chat has been made.

Seungmin:

hey

i put the notes we made earlier on my laptop, sending it rn

Unknown number:

so fast. are you that excited about the project??

Seungmin:

unlike you, i care about my grades

You assume the other number is Jeongin, fingers pressing onto the ‘save contact’ option. Then deciding otherwise, not yet, it'd seem desperate.

Jeongin:

yn, you here?

Seungmin:

she's probably spaced out as we speak

Jeongin:

i theorise she's ai

notice how she mostly talked when it was about studying

You gag, stifling out a laugh. What??

Seungmin:

yeah right

at least she's got brain and contributed 

something you can't relate to…

You lick the dry skin peeling at your lips, swallowing empty saliva. Thumb hovering across the screen.

You:

i’m not ai

Jeongin:

woah you're actually here

only ai answers when prompted btw

You pause in wonder regarding which approach to take in this situation. Something sweet, or perhaps mysterious?

“Hard no,” you mumble, shaking off the idea.

You spend the next few minutes mulling over how to reply. Overthinking it, staring at the last message as you plop down on your bed. Laying down on the sheets, holding a pillow comfortably on your stomach. Except that nothing is comfortable.

A ping knocks you out.

Seungmin:

there she goes again

i'm the business major student here but she’s the one taking business days to reply

we can see you reading those texts, you know that right?

You wince, fingers tapping against your screen for the simplest answer in the notebook.

You:

sorry

Seungmin:

whatever

Whatever.

when are you guys free?

Jeongin:

uhh

tomorrow? after practice tho

Seungmin:

me too

preferably after 6 p.m

what about yn?

You:

i have club activities after class

6 p.m works for me, might be a little late

Jeongin:

ok and where do we meet?

the cafeteria closes early on fridays

Seungmin:

felix will have people in tomorrow for his own project. he put props on the dorm first

Jeongin:

just asked chan hyung

he's out tomorrow, come to mine

Seungmin:

okay okay

Your heart rushes at the thought of spending the evening at Jeongin’s place, never having been to a boy's room before. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to calm your giddiness. This is nothing to get excited about. 

Right…

You:

can someone send the room number

Jeongin:

i'll do it, wait

You roll onto your back, phone tight in your shaking fingertips. Watching the dots appear as Jeongin types in his dorm allocation.

Jeongin:

room 208

see u guys there

—

It’s 6:58 p.m.

Now 6:59 p.m and you’re standing outside of the dorm with 208 plastered on top. It’s the right one, you’re sure of it. Most of them frat dudes reside around those spaces, anyone could get out of their room and find you awkwardly staring at the grayish surface, knuckles itching to knock already.

You can't help the thought that this is a joke, and that they gave you the wrong dorm number despite every link proving otherwise.

You’re on the verge walking back to your place, fingers squeezing the strap of your bag when a hand reaches past you, swiping a student card in. The door clicking open. Jumping out of your skin as something broad and warm meets your back, getting caged by a body and the door. You wonder which side the door is, with how hard his chest is to your back.

Jeongin.

He surges forward, muscles grazing against you. His hair prickles at the skin of your nape. Cursing when he collides with you softly. Too close, way too close.

Your breath is stolen, in a torturous method as your lungs refuse to get back to work.

“You gon’ get in or not?” he asks your statue-like figure. He sounds oblivious to the proximity, tone shifting to mild irritation when you take too long to budge.

Urging you inside, rough hands instinctively wrap themselves around your shoulders to move you inside. “There you go,” he praises, the tone quiet enough to jolt your stomach. He takes you to the couch, sitting in the common room. “Make yourself at home.” he smiles, dimples flashing. He accommodates you so casually, you ponder how casual it is for people like him to bring others over.

You try to ease up as he visits the kitchen to fetch you something to drink, sinking deeply into the couch. Finally catching a breather. Well. You thought.

A door swings open, revealing a not-so-subtle semi-naked Chris.

Chris. Fucking Christopher Bahng Chan — basically the leader of their cult — house, emerges from his room, struggling to tug his shirt down in a rush. His pants hang low, v line flexing with each stride. Abs on full display.

Mouth foaming. Pupils fixing anywhere but his direction, clearly failing at doing so cause you make eye contact with his body first, then him.

He gets the shirt on at last, grabbing a bag off the couch when he notices you. Eyes you. His gaze drifts to Jeongin coming back from the kitchen with cans of soda, shooting him a knowing grin. Jeongin replies with a tsk, “She's here for the project, hyung. I told you about it.”

Chris shrugs, feigning innocence. “I didn't open my mouth.” His shirt is still slightly ruffled, showing a hint of milky skin. Your mouth runs dry. “But you, you did tell me only Seungmin was up for the project.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jeongin scoffs, handing you one of the cans. Though, his attention is on the older man as he drops on the couch carelessly, his legs spreading wide. “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Why are you still loitering around?” Jeongin comments, his lip curling back at Chris.

You focus on the coldness of the can in your palm, and not on how your thighs are pressed tightly from trying to keep a distance from Jeongin’s. The temperature of his body seeps through the fabric of his pants, steaming on the exposed skin of your thighs, the fabric of your shorts had hiked up as you sat down earlier — questioning your choice of outfit for today. It’s hot. That’s why. Extremely hot, actually.

Chris’ grin never falters, humming in response. “You're right. I just happened to have noticed how flustered she seems. Thought I'd let you know,” he teases before swiftly escaping through the main entrance. Setting you up for your downfall with each syllable that left his mouth.

Jeongin shifts towards you, arms draped on the couch's backrest. Behind you. Holy shit. You hold your bag closer to your stomach. Almost hugging it. “Uncomfortable?” he asks, studying your face.

You shake your head in denial, giving him a tight — and unfortunately, very uncomfortable smile. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, still facing you. “Wanna go to my room? There’s air conditioning there.”

Your expression contorts to subtle confusion, hesitant.

“I mean,” his eyes involuntarily skim across your attire briefly before snapping back at you. Your tank top hugs your form, thighs spilling out of your shorts, leaving little to imagination. “You must be feeling hot, right?”

Swallowing, your fingers twitch on the can, the condensation drizzling on your skin — much like the beads of sweat breaking on your back. “Uhm, I'm not sure—”

“You aren't?” he asks, cocking his head in a way that speaks he isn't buying it. Slit eyes observe you, as if he was taking in your appearance for the first time. His arm raises, tilting towards you, and you nearly flinch back. “Relax,” he whispers, the back of his hand making contact with your forehead. If you weren't breathing heavily before, you are now. Gulping excessively, the saliva runs dry fast enough to break world records. Create new records, whatever. You're sure that if he leans a blink closer, he'd hear your thumping heartbeat. He must be, because his attention lands on your heaving chest for a second. A period of a smile catching at his lips as he finally leans back down when the front door bursts open. Casual, just like that. Pretending that he wasn't gawking at your flushed state.

“Ever cared to knock?” Jeongin voices, loud in an attempt to seem annoyed at whoever is approaching.

“Didn't care yesterday, definitely won't today,” Seungmin replies, throwing his bag and himself on the opposite couch. “I'm dead,” there's a rasp in his tone, catching his first breath today. Lips parted, much inviting as he faces the both of you. His eyes travel to your flushed expression, your own focus on the label of the soda can, avoiding his gaze — much worse than the day before — then to Jeongin's act at appearing oblivious, pointless to someone who has known him for years. “What'd you do?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” Jeongin sighs, and Seungmin curls a brow, leaning forward in your direction. Facing you.

“Is he messing with you, instead of focusing on the project?” his tone doesn't sound much reprimanding, if you had to be honest.

You shake your head, muttering out a quick no. He hums. “Sure seems that way.”

“He wasn't—” you let out, though you're well aware that he was. All three of you are well aware of that, the quiet tch of disbelief Seungmin lets out doesn't escape you either.

Jeongin sighs, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “Hyung, it's too hot, yeah? Let's just go to my room.”

—

You’re inside a guy’s room.

You.

Inside.

A guy’s room.

Ahem. Yang Jeongin’s room to be clear.

Maybe those prayers did work, your endless begs for mercy getting paid off at last, or maybe it's the opposite.

It's hard to decipher hell from heaven in this context. He had said to come here because it was hot, but somehow, your skin flushes with heat despite the rumbling A.C. Eyes following and noticing every corner and spots of his room, from the posters to his unusual collection of shoes.

Okay, yeah. Didn’t picture him as a shoe enthusiast.

Sitting on the floor, you come to peek at his slightly ajar drawer, a thread of clothes inching out. The entire area smells like him — not like you were registering his scent, but his cologne is quite recognisable. A faint scent of boys and something floral. Sweet. Intoxicating. You sit a bit tighter, urging the unease out of your nerves.

Something nudges you, a pen. Flicking at your skull as if touching you would infect them with your disease — at least, in your perspective. You’re met with curious eyes, a dot of a grimace engraving Seungmin’s expression, but there’s also a hyphen of concern. “Focus,” he scolds you, as if he knew your thoughts inside-out. You wince internally. “Brought your camera?”

Nodding, you dart around to find where you had put it. “Yeah, it’s—uhm.”

You blink harshly, your soul nearly flying out when he closes some distance. His arm reaches behind you, prisoning you between his body and the edge of the bed. For a second— a second, you swear he looks at you, his gaze holding your widened ones before he gets hold of your camera on the mattress. A ghost of his breath fanning on your skin as he hands the camera before you. “Here,” he asserts, offering. You pick it up with a trembling hand, trying to tighten the muscles the best you can. To stop the tremor but it escapes none.

Though, they don’t mention it. You’re thankful for that.

Somehow, the rest of the conversation blurs with ideas. You had made a plan for the magazine, showing them the pictures you snapped, the sceneries, the flowers, everything usual and expected. They’re impressed, having shifted closer before you can realize so. To the extent of trapping you on both sides, trying not to think much about it as they lean down to take a better look at the screen.

You should’ve brought your laptop. Who told you to show them on such a small device?

“Hmm, noona you're talented,” Jeongin says, not giving you much time to react to the sudden honorifics, except for a fumbling heartbeat before Seungmin interjects.

“But,” Seungmin interjects, his index swiping on the digital screen, “have you ever taken pictures of people?” his voice ghosts on your skin, hot and heavy next to your ear.

“I—” memory hits you. Snapping people? No, not really. However, you did collect and analyse enough magazines to be confident about your skills. Though… “No.”

He hums in response, staring over your shoulder to Jeongin. Their eyes meet, a careful exchange that escapes your attention lingers. “Say,” the younger interrupts, “Do you want to try with us?”

Do you want to try?

With us.

“Try what?” there’s a hitch in your throat. Awfully aware that you’re being delusional—again. But they’re standing so close, it’s hard not to get the wrong idea. “To take pictures?”

“Of us,” he says, his breath merging with yours.

“I don’t know— I haven’t taken anyone’s picture like that before—” you hate yourself for stuttering. Gosh, you do. But you can’t find your voice. Not when Seungmin leans a breath closer, you urge backwards only to be met with Jeongin’s body.

“Hm, wasn’t that your idea?” Seungmin asks, his calloused hand finding yours on the camera, the roughness of his skin from training brushes on you. Pretending not to notice the shakiness in which you hold the object as he guides your thumb to the shutter. Your heart thumps. “To click us into memory, make a magazine, whatever you wanted to do.” His voice is lower, soothing and lighting the nerves in your muscles simultaneously. Somehow.

Would it be wrong to get turned on?

It's so sudden, too sudden. It's nothing, but at the same time it's too much for you. You who grasps on every tiny detail. It's like they're aware of that.

You can barely think, barely register what they’re saying. Perhaps you speak, but it comes off as inaudible, face flushing when the chest behind you stutters. A huff. Two huffs then a laugh. You blink, and they’re both cackling at your expression.

“Hyung, you’re so fucking mean.” Jeongin wheezes, his hands landing lightly on your back as he tries, and fails to seem sorry. “Look at her face, oh my god.”

Oh.

Seungmin sneers. “You started it, Jeongin-ah. Why are you blaming me?” he asks, a faint smirk clings to his lips.

Why did you come here? Right. Stupid project. What’s worse? It’s the coil in your stomach refusing to dissipate as they play right in your face.

You let out a weak, awkward laugh and drop your forehead into your palms. “That’s… really funny,” you mutter dryly. “Hilarious.”

Should’ve accepted failing the class.

The humiliation sinks in as their own chuckles die out. To say you got this dizzy over that — the built up teasing from the past hours participating in. Seungmin grazes your arm and you nearly jerk away from both of them. “Hey—” he starts when you refuse to even lift your head. You can barely hear him through your ringing embarrassment.

“It was a joke,” Jeongin clears, attempting to soften his voice. “Sorry,” he glances at Seungmin, silently signaling him.

“You good?”

Of course he’d ask that.

You nod way too hard. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure…? You don’t seem so–”

“I am,” you state. Feeling like an easy, bummed loser.

Your phone rings before any of them can start another sentence. For the first time today, you could kiss your roommate for existing. Snatching the opportunity like a lifeline, “I’ve got to go. Pet care-taker duties,” you excuse, scramble to your feet and grab your camera despite their growing confusion.

“Pet caretaker—?”

This is rash, but anyone would react that way right?

Perhaps not.

You’re on your way out when Jeongin’s fingers catch the hem of your top for a second in an attempt at slowing you. “Wait, hold on—” alas, it inches down and you gasp.

Jeongin’s eyes widen at the sudden action, yanking his hand back immediately. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him blush before, but a light pink coats his ears. “Shit—sorry.”

Seungmin coughs, clearing his throat. However, it does nothing at hiding his amusement. “The project, are you coming back tomorrow–?”

You gulp, indecisive with how your gaze darts to the corner of the room, plastering the image of his wall inside your mind. “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know,” and with that you leave the room, slamming the front door shut with the heaviness of your steps.

There’s a silence that whistles through the room. Seungmin turns to Jeongin, bobbing his head to his side. “Think we killed it,” there's a questioning undertone in his voice, a question he's seeking Jeongin for validation. 

Jeongin shrugs, resting back on his palms, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. His head hangs low, his bangs hiding his unusual flush, “–Don’t know. I thought it was funny.”

Seungmin nods briefly, eyeing the younger. “You know what's more hilarious?” he asks, shifting closer.

“What?”

“Your face, are you flustered? Ayen…” he teases, being annoying. “Did she fluster you?”

Jeongin grunts, pushing Seungmin’s head as far as possible. “Bro, no. What the fuck.”

“Hmm, okay. If you say so,” Seungmin mutters, replaying your reaction on loop. You hadn’t reacted exactly how he was expecting. Perhaps he was hoping you'd lean into it, rather than scrambling off so clumsily. The abashness of the younger ticked him off in a way he couldn’t muster. He found it funny, yeah — but it also bothered him in a way he can't explain. It's faint though, a fleeting coil that could escape him too.

Could he call that the beginning of jealousy?

Tsk. What stupid thoughts, he barely knows you. 

Not like it was a problem before, so why now?

—

You’ve decided not to go. To take a day off from seeing them, just one—to think about it and get your head straight, well conscious of how you’re overreacting it. One turned into two days, two turned into nearly a week of dragging this out. It’s mortifying, okay? You can’t control how you feel, nor how your cheeks warm up at the mere thought of what happened.

The memory boils on your skin, sizzling the bottom of your stomach, unwillingly growing needy at the flashing images. It brims tears to your eyes. Guilty of how wet it made you to get teased like this, shame prickling at your nerves. Maybe that’s why you left. Because if they tugged at your head a second longer, laughed in that manner while cornering you — you’d moan right there. Unfortunately, this is who you are.

They texted you a few times, asking if you were busy—which you gave the same response every time. A simple word, ‘yes.’

They stopped inquiring after a few days. This is stupid, you’re acting stupid. You aren’t this asinine normally. Their fault, really. Begging that they’d leave the rest of the project to you, never bother you again and let you complete it with a sign of their names at the end. As if they contributed. And yet.

“Hello? Are you yn?” someone asks, tapping your shoulder as you idly sit on a bench outside the main building. Doing absolutely nothing but staring at the water falling off the fontaine, nothing that you swore you were busy with at least. Your eyes meet hers, and she beams in reassurance.

“Not to bother you, but you’re asked at the gymnasium.”

“Huh?” you glance around, there’s no other you in the area. “Me?”

“Yes—aren’t you…?”

“I am,” you reply, lashes fluttering in confusion. “But why… isn’t a class active there?”

She fidgets with her thumbs, she’s clearly shy, or scared—probably a freshman. Whatever. Much resembling you, the part you try to hide despite the forming cracks. “Please go, please?”

This got to be a trick, a trap designed just for you. You find yourself following her despite the alarming red flags, how she started typing on her phone the moment you reached towards her doesn't escape you.

This feels wrong.

Swallowing dryly as you reach the front of the gymnasium, fingers hovering above the handle when it abruptly opens on the other side.

You’re pulled inside before you can grasp it. Arms finding themselves wrapped around you. Brusque and strong, slightly drenched from working out. “She’s here!”

Your pupils blow wide, instantly meeting the ones of the girl a few feet away. She gives you a pitiful glance and you shake your head. “What—”

There’s a hoard of guys that encircles you, grouping you in the middle of them. You're shaking, an insect size earthquake rambling throughout your body. Only you can feel it.

“Everybody, move.” A voice that you recognise cuts through, Seungmin.

You see him before he touches you, warm fingers envelopping the meat of your wrist, separating you from the crowd. “Calm down, the hell?”

“Don’t be harsh, Kim Seungmin,” one spills above the crowd’s volume. “You said she was here to photograph us.”

A confused noise leaves you, not quite a question but Seungmin catches it. “I said, she was here to spend the afternoon. And that she might, after class. Not during.”

Another one complains and Seungmin grunts in response, “Just go back to whatever you were doing, get lost. Hurry.”

“Was I aware of this–?” you ask as everyone disperses begrudgingly, him being the only person in your hearing zone. “I said that I was busy.”

Woah.

You’ve never heard this tone leave your throat before.

He sighs, brushing off the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His slick hair. Gaze subconsciously trailing down his body, to the curve of his shoulders, the damp of his shirt to—

You stop yourself.

Eyes snapping back at him despite your difficulty to hold eye contact. You shouldn't've, because the intensity of them nearly melts you on the spot. Suddenly conscious of his lingering touch on your wrist, which has softened the longer he’s holding you.

“Busy wandering the hallways for the entire week, seriously?”

You huff, mouth gaping to say something, then closing. Because you have been wandering off the entire day. But still. “Are you stalking me?”

Gosh, what the fuck are you saying. He’s visibly sharing mutual thoughts since his features contorts to one of skepticism. “Stalking you? Don’t be stupid, I asked someone from your major. You thought I wouldn’t after a week of you ignoring us?”

Still counts.

He blinks, briefly staring at the ceiling in contemplation as he registers his own words.

Insinuating that he went out of his way, to find someone related to you. “For the project,” he clarifies, clearing the light rasp in his voice. “I want to get it done already, there is only one commune gym class per week—and you just happen to get busy everyday. Especially today.”

“Not like I would’ve known it would be today,” you retort and he scoffs. Scoffs.

Painfully attractive. Your heart squeezes.

“Listen,” he urges. He’s been thinking about it, if his and Jeongin’s teasing had been as bad as you made it out to be. He really had been mulling it over these past few days. Much unlike the persona he tries to show. He thought you’d just forget about it, and eventually show up. But no. You went and got ‘busy’ for a whole fucking week. Clearly avoiding them.

His gaze locks on yours, and fuck—have you always been this cute?

The stern look enrobing your face tugs at unnecessary sudden thoughts he doesn't have control of.

Maybe not seeing you for a week was messing with his head more than he’d like to admit.

He sighs, again. Muttering something under his breath that you can't catch, but the pinch forming at his frown tells you the intention. Breathing in, as if he can't believe what he's about to say next.

“I apologize for what happened. If it made you uneasy—my bad, but you didn’t have to fucking ghost us over a whole week for it. You know?” his frustration bubbles in his throat, his fingers tightening on your wrist. Both of your eyes travel to where he hasn't let you go.

He releases you in a burn, as if it irritated him for holding you that long. “Whatever,” he mumbles, blinking away from your surprised face. “I don’t like wasting my time, and that’s what you’re doing right now.”

“Okay, fine.” you mirror his breath, pretending you weren't internally losing it. “Whatever.”

“What? That’s all?” he asks, subconsciously dropping his voice to yours.

“What else do you want me to say—”

“—That you’re sorry,” he interrupts, acting like the question was dumb in itself.

“But you already did that…” you reply, nail tweaking the fabric of your shirt. “Why would I be sorry?”

“For…” he starts, stopping midway, thinking over before he speaks any nonsense. “For—”

“Hyung!” someone shouts from afar, your heads snapping in the direction of the sound.

Jeongin’s jogs to your side of the gymnasium, finally stopping before you in huge pants. “What’re you doing— coach is asking where you are.” he lifts his hunched body, eyes meeting yours. “Oh, yn-ah. You’re also here? Thought you disappeared from campus.”

Eh?

“Didn’t Seungmin tel—” you try to say but his hand finds your lips before you do, muffling your incoming sentence.

Jeongin squints dubiously at the interaction, eyes meeting where Seungmin's hand tapes your mouth.

“Didn’t she tell you she’d come?” Seungmin blurts, completely twisting your words when he had lured you to come. So, he told everyone but Jeongin. Okay.

You had thought otherwise, especially after the huge stunt from earlier. It was hard to miss.

You sure hope that the light whimper that left you got muffled by his palm, eyes gaping at Jeongin before you for help. Only to get completely ignored as they converse in front of you, with his hand still on your mouth. Brushing your lips.

Yet, you hear them ignore you. You constat so. But there's a slight twitch in Jeongin's jaw you're not sure you caught. He says something about continuing class, stepping a foot closer to your bodies.

You tug at Seungmin's wrist, nails grazing his skin and he looks down. Gaze locking for the period of a breath as he releases you, however, it’s slow. His arm swipes across your jaw to your neck, subtly resting on your collarbone, a silent display.

“Switch places with me, keep her company for a while. I’ll be back.”

“Is that okay with you?”

Jeongin's talking to you.

You reply without realizing, lips parting in agreement. Then it registers when Seungmin’s body abandons yours, stealing away the warmth it basked you in as he returns to the field. Leaving you with the younger boy.

Wait what?

He doesn’t give you time to react either, fingers swiftly wrapping themselves around your hand. Not wrist, not arm — your hand. Somehow, that's the boldest thing they've done so far.

He leads you to a nearby bench. The casual skinship being shared with you throws you off guard, especially after hearing that Yang Jeongin wasn't a fan of it. Barely clasping the situation except for the heat that radiates from his hardened figure. Quickly replacing the lost temperature from Seungmin. He lays back, white shirt flexing on his biceps. “Noona,” he mutters, fluttering his lashes lazily. “Can I call you noona?”

Your palms sweat a river, rubbing them off the fabric of your pants as you take in his question, brows raising. “I don’t think we have a huge age gap, you don’t have to—”

“But,” he hums, smiling, showing the dent of his dimples, “I want to.”

“Ah,” you nod in the following silence, not quite grasping how to reply to that. “Sure then…”

A second passes, and he sighs. Rolling his head, glancing at him to notice the vein popping at his neck. The skin glistens under the light, involuntarily gulping. This feels wrong, so wrong to constantly gawk at them. You’re ashamed, but then he speaks. “Did he force you to come?”

He knows.

It’d be weirder if he didn’t. That’s his friend, you supposed. “I wouldn’t call it forcing,” you state, though you aren’t certain yourself.

He leans back on the bench with a hum, nodding. “Guessed so. He’s usually a good liar, wouldn’t say the same for earlier.”

You fall into silence, you wouldn't know what he's talking about. You're not used to these people… but then, a ghost of a touch lands on your jaw, guiding you to face him.

“Jeongin–”

“You let him touch you,” he stops you, his smile never leaves his face. His voice is reprimanding even with how light it sounds, you pick it that way. His fingers ghosts over the side of your face, tracing where Seungmin had clasped his hand above your cheek, slowly inching to your lips, “and he claims it’s for the project.” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lower lip and you pursue them in a thin line, frown deepening.

“Are you teasing me again…?”

“No,” he replies, firm. “Was just wondering,” he trails his gaze, hovering on your lips. “How soft they’d be.”

Your jaw hangs, and he thinks that’s his favourite expression on you. Undeniably scorching underneath his touch. There’s a twist in his stomach, something familiar to his body—and yet, a stranger to his brain. Feeling the intense need to pull you back from Seungmin’s sudden grip, to cut through the ropes he’s unconsciously tying you with.

Strange, he’s never had possessiveness issues with girls before. Perhaps he did, but it never happened concerning his friends. He could just be taking enjoyment in teasing you in search of the reactions you keep feeding his consciousness, you're a fun person to mess with. Though, it doesn't quite fit that strict standard.

For some reason, he can’t help the twinge of jealousy that threatens to emerge.

The tip of your fingers twitch, trembling on your laps, hovering slightly as you don't know what to do with them. “I— How soft—?” you repeat, coming off as a hitch. Sure that your brain stopped working a second ago, you shake your head, denying his theory. He stares at you as if he was observing every spasm of muscle, every smack of lips. Gaze following each direction your dilating pupils take, pulse beating in your eardrums in thuds.

“People are looking,” you try to reason, to provide a plausible reason for him to leave your bubble. Alas, he doesn’t seem to mind a bit.

“So?” he says in a hush, “Does it bother you…” it comes off as a whisper, dilated pupils dropping to his moving lips, “that I’m touching you right now, am I being weird?”

You gulp. He watches, eyes unleaving before he eventually pulls back, using the same hand to rake through his hair. Making an effort to give you space when you don't reply, blinking down at your laps instead. You touch your own lips, head hanging now to hide your flushed expression.

“Class will be over soon,” he mentions, staring ahead. “All those guys will be swooning around you, and you’ll photograph them,” he finds Seungmin in the crowd, blankly fixing him, “that’s why he brought you here, the excuse he gave.”

Why is he acting like this, what’s the point?

You’re indecisive whether you like it or not.

The pit in your stomach sure does despite your attempt to mask it, your thighs dig into the edge of the bench, uncomfortable out of nowhere. “It’s for the project, I suppose… collective idea.”

He takes a dim view at you, a crease forming above his nose. “Are you oblivious, or do you pretend to be?”

Your mouth parts, to retort with something but the sharp sound of a whistle pierces through, the noise echoing down the gymnasium’s walls. He stands up before you do, dusting the back of his pants when he notices the athletes scatter across the field. “Don’t be stupid, noona,” he warns, “a guy’s intention is not hard to tell.” For whatever reason, it feels like a warning, grabbing your hand with no attention being paid to your tiny noise of complaint. His fingers snake down your wrist, holding you above your pulse point. You’re agitated, heartbeat running a marathon. He likes it, you’re cute like this, all wide eyes gaping at him as he guides you towards him. “Tell me if they nag you too much, m’kay?”

—

“Three, two… one.”

Click.

The shutters come off with a ‘chik’, knuckles gripping the device as you wander off to the other side of the gymnasium. One more time.

They’re overworking you, having you run off every other second to catch different shots and angles of random sweaty, muscular, abnormally handsome dudes. The last part is just your opinion though.

Your feet ache, sore and burning in the tight confinement of your shoes, your soles numb by now. “One more!”

God, no. Jeongin’s empty promise lives in your mind. He had asked you to tell him if they were harassing you, but he took work harassment as unnecessary apparently. “That’s not what I meant,” is what he replied, urging you to get back to work as he went back to converse with his teammates. Seungmin wasn’t paying much consideration to you either, after making the trouble of manipulating you here using a freshman.

Curse Jeongin. Curse Seungmin. Curse everyone in this room, including yourself for always bringing your camera around. For that? Curse your major.

 “I don’t— I don’t think I can any more,” you gasp in an exhausted pant, the whole area is huge — huge for your pitiful, unathletic body. “A break, please.” you beg. Seungmin has the audacity to act as if he was thinking about it, as if interrupting his conversation was a crime to begin with.

“Then go sit down?” he retorts, mildly irritated that you asked. You frown, because earlier you hoped to, but as soon as your ass made contact with the floor — they demanded you to get back up immediately.

You’ll never forget how rude jocks are.

Sprawled on a bench at the complete corner, you refused to give him a response. You totally would, you even imagined the whole scenario. Then it hits you that that stupid frathouse he’s part of will burn you alive if you’re bluntly rude to any of them, him specifically. His face is rude to look at. That’s a lie, you want to kiss him. Or worse.

“Noooo, yn.” you mutter in a wince, shaking your head in disapproval, “stop, bad bad thoughts…”

A shadow catches your eye of sight, towering your sitting figure.

“Oh, aren’t you–?”

Your head snaps up to the stranger standing before you, not-so a stranger as you take in who it is. He smiles, fingers tugging at the top zipper of his jacket, pulling it down in this heat. Sweat drizzles in beads on the skin of his neck, and you wonder if sweating has ever looked hotter on anyone else.

Stop.

Stay strong. No other frat dudes will ruin your semester, you’re already letting two boss you around. No more.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he exclaims, plopping down next to you horrifyingly comfortably. “It’s our second time meeting, no? You remember me?” he speaks, but your cheeks are too puffed with overly nervous air to be able. Chris, cocks his head to the side, following the direction of where you’re facing. “Not much of a talker, huh.”

“I know you,” you reply, bobbing your head up and down in a futile attempt at seeming stable. Everyone knows him. Holy shit, you’re actually alone with him right now — without Jeongin shielding you from any real interaction. Fuckass leader of their cult, and here you were worrying about Seungmin. That’s like fighting the final boss as a level two player in an ecchi game where he’s an ogre and you’re a maiden — except that he’s too beautiful to be an ogre.

“I know you too,” he grins, the dents on his cheek hollow and charming. He resembles Jeongin, in a way, perhaps because they are roommates — the mannerisms rub off. He hums, glancing to your fumbling hands when he notices the camera, “Ah, that’s why you’re here.”

“Are Seungmin and Jeongin keeping you busy, you must be tired.” he mentions and you instantly nod at the accusation towards them, turning into a head shake of denial when he starts chuckling, realising that you’re agreeing on shit regarding his fraternity.

“No, they aren’t—” you deny, pained through gritted teeth because the ache in your feet proves otherwise.

He stands up, and you think you’re done for, but then he walks up to you – crouching so that you can’t face the floor anymore but his striking features. Forcing you to look at him.

Are all guys around here this pushy—? Social space’s got to be a myth for them.

You must be an easy target, because his palm slides over yours, half-grabbing the camera with you. Soothing. Cradling your palm in his with soft hands.

“Take a picture of me,” he asks, already urging you to stand with him. You’re dizzy. A mantra of no looping in your head — hopelessly searching for Jeongin’s face amongst the crowd as Chris leads you to a painted wall with the school’s athlete theme logo plastered on it.

The people in your proximity fall into silence when you pass by them. Not because of you, but him. Chitter-chatter dies unless he looks back and waves, and they claim it’s not a cult. A group of cheerleaders eyes you down dirty, their poms dropping to their sides, stiff. You can’t even look back, your gaze might tell them you don’t want to be here. Either way, people will get mad at you in these types of situations.

Refuse, you’re ungrateful. Accept, you’re undeserving.

You’ve read enough forums to be aware of this. How does it feel to be popular? Now it feels the opposite. The same spotlight being put upon you against your consent.

“Here,” he instructs, stopping in his tracks. “I’ll go there, you decide where to stand.” he informs, stepping back. “You’re the professional here.”

“Okay,” you reply, throat tight. Putting some distance when you’re hit with a familiar surface, you don’t have to peek back to know who it is. You still look.

“Are you all right?” he asks, voice low only for you to hear.

“I think,” you breathe out, bringing your camera before you. Chris doesn’t say anything about Jeongin’s presence being glued to your back, but there’s something in his expression that you’re unable to decipher — unlike Jeongin, his hyung is transparent to him. “My hands are trembling,” you admit. It comes out before you can grasp it, perhaps because he had told you to tell him if something — someone is bothering you. Your mouth just accepted his comfort before your brain does.

He’s quiet for a second.

Then.

His arms embrace your sides. You fold your arms together in a surprised reflex from the hug. He’s not hugging you though it comes close. He holds the camera with you, steadying your clumsy hands with his bigger ones. His biceps grazes your skin through your clothes, breath fanning on your neck as he leans down to ear level. “Is that better?”

“No, worse.” you instantly stammer, chest heaving and falling rapidly.

“I can hear your pulse,” he informs you in a whisper. And he shouldn’t have, really, now it’s faster. “Relax, just take the picture. Get it done with yn.”

You inhale in, slowly exhaling out. Clicking the shutters on your most controlled breath, scared that you’ll lose it on the next one. You click a few with the help of Jeongin, eventually dropping your camera. “I’m done.”

Jeongin’s hold leaves you, but he stays by your side.

Chris approaches, “Can I see them?”

You blink, absently biting the inside of your cheeks. “There’s too many pictures in… I’ll have to transfer them to my laptop or else we will have to go through each one by one.”

“Ohh, I see.” he hums, thinking about it. “Then… send them to me after. I’ll give you my numb—”

“I’ll send them to you, hyung. Don’t worry about it,” Jeongin blurts out, subtly pushing you back onto him. Subtly, but it’s a full step back towards him. Till you’re clasped into each other. He’s smiling, however his tone carries an edge. A tinge of possessiveness.

Chris throws his hand up, shrugging his shoulders. “All right. I have no complaints, Ayen-ah.” he replies, stepping forward. “As long,” he trails, holding eye contact, “as I get those pictures, in the end. No complaints.”

Jeongin’s glare doesn’t leave Chris until he’s out of sight, getting busy with his coach somewhere far off. He sighs. Sighs. Gaze dropping to yours, pivoting you to face him.

He seems annoyed, irritated by Chris’ approach, you’re more relieved that the latter left. Subconsciously scooting towards Jeongin’s embrace. “What was that…” you ask, earning a click of tongue from him.

“Ignore him,” he replies, “can’t have anything anymore. Just gotta stick their asses in,” he’s muttering, barely audible.

“Huh, what? I can’t hear you.”

He pokes his tongue inside his mouth, forcing a bump on his cheek. “Forget it, are you done with the photos?”

You nod, pointing to your camera. “Yup, all in.”

“Okay, let’s go back then. Don’t feel like staying here any more.”

—

“The pictures are good,” Seungmin agrees, clicking on swipe. “But those losers are lame,” he adds, squinting at each individual he’s seeing on screen, “being this unphotogenic gotta be against the regulations, what the fuck.”

You’re sprawled across his bed, the three of you crashing his dorm for the past hour. You brought your laptop, showing the safe part of it only. “I don’t think it's that bad,” you reply, pointing to the mouse so that he’d give it to you.

Jeongin has been quiet for a while — lost in thoughts, letting you and Seungmin do most of the talking. Snapping awake when Seungmin kicks his knee.  “Wake up, dude.”

“Eh?”

Seungmin scoffs, “The pictures, what do you think?”

Jeongin gazes at the screen, watching you roll past a few images. They’re ugly, he means to say. Not because you took them though, that’d be a lie. The problems are the recipients. “They’re…” he slurs, a bit tired when he looks at you; you have such a hopeful daze in your eyes, waiting for some validation. He groans, rubbing his forehead. “They’re great. Such… symmetry.”

Both you and Seungmin share a glance, skepticism etching your features.

“Just go back to sleep,” Seungmin tuts, facing forward when he notices a certain picture. “Wait, hol’ on.” he stops you, indicating where to click. You do, and he zooms in. “This. I didn’t know you took Chan’s photo?”

You awkwardly peek sideways, shrugging. “He asked me to,” expecting some sort of reaction from him, but he dwells on it; humming.

“I got an idea, come here.” he requests, slapping Jeongin’s arm to get him to follow as you form a circle on his mattress. “Nobody cares about those guys, right?”

Jeongin nods. You don’t know what answer to give this statement.

“We could make the magazine about us?” he suggests.

“About Stray Kids?”

“Yeah.”

“No,” your and Jeongin’s ‘no’ comes off simultaneously, quickly disapproving.

Seungmin perks a brow, resting his arms on his crossed legs. “Why? It’s a good idea.”

You stay silent, well aware that this won’t be good for your heart. Nor your body, nor your mind. You in general. However, you have no idea why Jeongin refused, stealing a glance at him to wait for his reasoning.

“I don’t want to, do I need a reason?” he retorts, keeping his tone normal the best he can.

“Yeah, you do. My grades matter on this, your grades will count because of this. yn?” he addresses you, shifting his focus to you and you wince internally.

It is an amazing idea, probably the best one so far… but… what do you even say here?!

No, I can’t because you guys get me all hot and bothered, and I might just bust if you keep getting into my space like that.

Okay. Nopes.

You throw your head forward onto your palms, your whole body sighing deeply in defeat. You hadn’t had much choice since this whole thing began, to be honest. What will it change?

“Fine…” you mumble, “I’m for Seungmin’s idea.”

They both stare at you momentarily, gaze heavy despite your lowered head. The way in which Seungmin’s lips curl into a smirk escapes you, and so does Jeongin’s growing frown.

“Two against one, guess we’re following my suggestion by fair voting. Hm?” Seungmin states, not quite a question, a spark of victory engraving his voice when Jeongin huffs, tsking. Tapping his knee in quiet frustration before reluctantly nodding, mumbling out a quiet ‘okay.’

You start to map out the magazine, planning each page and dividing the sections. Notes, members, club activities. They explain how their classes and clubs work, and you note it down. When it's your turn explaining, they’re the ones to listen. They’re attentive, you give them that. Perhaps because they are subtly admiring your focused expression, the knit of your brows, the tiny sniffs you take when they stare too hard — the pout that forms at your lips. Addicting.

Do you realize how cute you are? They wonder.

The clock ticks, time flying by and you’re soon yawning out. Lazily blinking as you type your last sentence so far. “I think… we are done for today, what else is there?” you ask, peering at them. They seem as tired, half-way lying dead on the mattress.

“We can continue later, I think it’s past midnight.” Jeongin mumbles, glancing at his phone screen.

Your own eyes land on the clock on your laptop, mouth gaping. “Oh shit, it is. I’ll get going then—” you heave up, but they hold onto you, throwing you back with a thud.

“It’s late, stay.” Seungmin asks — demands.

“I couldn’t possibly—” you try to oppose, but Jeongin is already packing your stuff, setting them on the nearby desk before returning to his initial seat. Next to you. Not for a project. “I have to go home…” you hope to object, but they tug you closer and your voice dies in a slur. “My roommate…”

“–is grown, she’ll manage without you tonight.” Seungmin declares, because he might not if you decide to leave again after such difficulty to get you here.

“Oh,” you hitch, shifting your head sideways to be met with Jeongin. You really can’t escape, huh. “Can I sleep on the couch?”

“No,” Jeongin replies, his forehead resting on your shoulder. “Felix is downstairs, stay here. Be good,” the last part comes off as a whisper. You nearly choke.

“I, uhm. Ok.”

They could laugh at your malfunction, but the last time they did you fled away for a solid week. For some reason, they don’t feel like teasing either.

Probably a dumb reason.

Seungmin switches off the lights, darkness filling your vision, as if that made it any better. Their proximity is louder than anything, how are you supposed to sleep in such a deafening atmosphere? Suddenly hyperaware of the fleeting touches and caresses that land on your body.

There's nothing at first, just the sound of your heavy breathing — cursing at yourself for it, but then, it's like they keep inching towards you. Closing any chance of distance till you're made of one piece. You're sure that you're dreaming it, that you fell asleep and this is all an illusion of your deepest fantasies of this exact situation. Clinging onto the logic till an arm wraps around your waist, having forgotten who is on which side on the spot. You gasp, not even an audible sound when you're rolled onto your side. The same arm snaking where your shirt hikes upwards. “Fuck, you're soft.”

Jeongin.

Mistake thinking it's only him when they're busy playing team tagging. The one behind you, Seungmin, pulls himself to your back. Spooning you like a pillow, their personal pillow. He hums, satisfied with the scent of your shampoo invading his nostrils.

Your thighs squeeze. Lord, not now. But when else?

“Guys…”

“Sleep,” Jeongin sighs, nose nuzzling your neck, bangs tickling your skin.

You can't. You hear crickets despite the lack of a nearby forest. It keeps you awake.

You'd be crazy to think that they're almost grinding on you, or you're the one doing it. You can't tell either. Your brain is working overtime, core throbbing painfully at the ideas that washes your mind. Jeongin's lips land flimsy above the collar of your shirt, you shiver in dull desire, hips involuntarily rolling back when you hear a light grunt from beside your ear. “I'm sorry—” you quickly apologize when Seungmin's palms lay flat on your hips, stilling your squirming self.

“Are you trying to make me pop a boner?” he murmurs, voice rough from sleep and something darker.

You apologize again; soft, guilty mumbles leaving your lips. Jeongin fights the urge to shut you up with a kiss. To seal those inviting lips of your. To be the first one of them to do it.

To claim you first before any of his hyungs get the chance to snatch you from him.

They’re sleepy, and you keep on rambling. Rambling off about how you could sleep on the floor, that it'd be better for everyone when they nicely decided to tuck you in with them. How cruel of you, really. It happens to be Seungmin's last straw.

“Ayen,” he begs in a groggy grunt, swiftly taking hold of the back of your head. “Keep her quiet.”

Jeongin doesn't hesitate.

His lips meet yours in a sweet haste, not registering any of it actually happening until his lips part, swallowing the huff you let out. He gives you a slow caress, a merciful chance to adjust. Your eyes squeeze shut, not having kissed anyone in years, you fight to keep up. He doesn't care, taking pleasure in the ineptitude in which you try to kiss back. Your lack of experience is endearing when his fingers find your jaw, gaping at your mouth to lick the drool that threatens to spill. Soft, pathetic, high pitched whimpers leave you mid kiss, begging for some oxygen when he steals yours away. Pulling back at last, his breath ghosts on your nose. Though, you get no time to recover when your face is hunched to the side, another pair of lips making contact with your parted ones.

Seungmin might just deem you as a drug. He's rougher than Jeongin, though his lips are delicate. The shakiness in which you allow him to do whatever with your mouth pleases him, the naivety in which you aim to breathe through your nose because they aren't giving you any opportunity for air to fill your lungs. Shit — should've kissed you sooner. Should've kissed you the first time you zoned out with that dumb expression of yours. He's been wondering why you kept doing that ever since, he might get an idea after this. He tilts his face, propping himself on his elbow to gain better access, shoving his tongue deep inside your mouth.

You moan, delirious when Jeongin's lips drop to your collarbone, sucking a slow, harsh mark there, that you have to tug at his hair — or Seungmin's. It's difficult to differentiate in this state.

He pulls back when you whine, heated eyes staring at you through pitch black darkness, breathing a ton. “Shit,” he curses, there's a throb in his pants, and with the shuffling from Jeongin's side, he's sure the sensation is mutual amongst them. Still, you're shuddering wildly, uncertain of how much you can handle — for now. “Let's just–” he pants, catching his stolen voice, “let's just go to sleep.”

—

The first thing you did when the sun rose was leave.

You left. Tearing yourself from tangled limbs, swiftly grabbing your belongings as you left without informing anyone. You can’t — you can’t handle that.

You hadn’t expected this to happen. Well maybe a minuscule logical part of you did — noticing the obvious signs early on, only to mark it with a ‘delusion’ arrow. You nearly bumped into a sleepy Felix on your escapee, just to ignore his confused grunt and make it out of the door.

You’re done for. Doomed. Rejected. Will regret this.

Living in fear for the rest of the day, an intense sense of familiar paranoia tugging at your heart. You can’t — that’s what you keep reminding yourself of. Except that they’re the ones doing it, and you’re silently letting them in.

“What the hell, yn.” you mutter, hands messing with your hair in disbelief.

—

“Do I stink?” Jeongin asks, sniffing the sleeve of his shirt.

“No shit,” Seungmin replies, the sarcasm in his response is loud. He doesn’t think he’s that behind. They hardly made it out of their individual practice tonight, deciding to meet up afterwards. The commune showers are crowded. Their clothes stick to their bodies, hair damp from washing it under the cold, tap water.

“I can’t believe she left without a word,” Jeongin blurts out and Seungmin hums in feign confusion. “This morning?”

He shrugs, eyes landing on the nearby opened store. “I can believe it, fits her character.” he says, though, he’s distracted by the pink hue of the store, ‘Welcome’ plastered on top. “Jeongin.”

“Hm?”

“I’m craving popsicles.”

—

Knock knock.

Jeongin’s knuckles hammers against your dorm’s door, the two of them standing by. They wait. It’s the third knock, and they’re getting impatient. “You think she’s home or nah?”

“Dunno, knock one more time.” Seungmin encourages, watching the younger man make a last attempt when the door creaks open. They anticipated to be met with your head peeking out curiously, unfortunately, the person behind the door isn’t you.

“Uhm, hello?” the girl speaks, taking a proper look as her eyes widen when she realizes who is standing before her. Panicked confusion seers through for a second, but then the memory of you mumbling about your project hits her. “Are you here for my roommate…?”

They nod and she opens the door wider, hesitant. “She’s not home right now, I think she went to the library.”

“We can wait here, no? Is she going to take long,” Jeongin asks, and she seems genuinely perplexed by it. Reluctant to let them inside.

Her tongue swipes across her lips, nodding. “Totally, I was about to leave either way. You can watch over meanwhile, I guess.”

Seungmin isn’t too fan of her telling them to watch over but Jeongin intercepts it before he does, grabbing his arm to pull them both inside. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” she assures, awkwardly clasping her shoes on. “You can stay here, sit on the couch. I don’t know, make yourself at home.” she says, about to head out as she suddenly stops. For the first time, feeling a bit considerate regarding you. Taking a deep inhale to gather the courage to face them, “Don’t enter her room, at all costs. That’s all, bye.”

At least she tried to warn them. She doesn’t know exactly why you prohibit people from entering your room since you usually keep to yourself. But you had expressed this rule several times, she felt the need to mention it before heading out.

Jeongin sprawls on the couch, throwing his head back, observing Seungmin walk towards the freezer, resting the popsicles deep inside cold refuge. “Hey,” he voices when Jeongin takes out his phone, earning a curious ‘hm’ from the other. “Why do you think she warned us?”

“Girls stuff, maybe. How would I know?” he replies, not quite dwelling on it like Seungmin. “Why do you ask?”

“Curious, that’s all.” he plops down next to Jeongin, propping his elbows on his thighs. “It’s weird, honestly.”

“You mean… you want to take a look?”

“Don’t you?”

Jeongin swallows, glancing at the shut door. “And… if she comes back?”

“We’ll act innocent, we know nothing.”

“Yeah, okay. We aren’t snooping around,” he reassures and Seungmin nods.

“We’re just loitering, crashing, nothing wrong with that.”

They hesitate — pretend to in order to please their conscience — yet, they thread through either way.

—

Your room is nothing unusual, nothing worth a warning for if they had to be real.

The walls are clean, you’re well hygienic, and there are barely any interesting posters up. Tidy, neat, casual.

“It’s like I’m stepping into an epitome of boredom, holy. Has she never heard of decorations?” Seungmin groans, pulling your desk chair to take a seat, rolling the wheels lazily.

Jeongin hums, sitting on your bed. The mattress is softer than his, taking delight by bouncing on it.

“You look stupid, quit doing that.” Seungmin snarks, raising his leg to kick Jeongin’s leg.

“Honestly, nothing here gives off her vibes. Or is it my opinion?”

Seungmin shakes his head, pupils darting around. “Nah, you’re right. I expected something a bit more…”

“Loseristic?”

“You're making up words now?” Seungmin asks, huffing a laugh. “Rude, I’ll tell her you called her a loser.”

“Says the rude one, bet she likes me better.” Jeongin states, pretending not to notice the twitch in Seungmin’s brow.

“I don't need to be desperate to get a girl,” Seungmin retorts, a mean blade to his tone. Jeongin's used to it.

“If you say so,” Jeongin mumbles, hiding the growing rigidity in his body with a cheeky grin. Throwing his body backwards onto the mattress when he hears a weird sound. He does it again despite Seungmin's skeptical stare. “Yo, hyung.” he calls, laying his palm flat on the surface, applying pressure. “I think there's something under the bed.”

“Huh, like what?” Seungmin asks, cocking his head in confusion. He stands up as Jeongin does, helping him lift the mattress.

Their eyes widen. Freezing on the spot to the stash of material before them.

Ten… “Tentacle?”

Jeongin picks up something, reading the cover. “Alien, monster. Eh, orgy?”

They skim through, attention being driven towards the crude displays in front of them. Girls getting gangbanged, manhandled, used. Boys not far off, you do have a type — they've come to know that.

The deafening agreement that courses through is wordless, they leave the mattress, bodies working around to find other leaks. Evidence that they aren't insane for this.

“I found porno games–” Jeongin begins, moving the front row of your books to the side to reveal DVDs, CDs, audiobooks, games — mangas, magazines. Your magazines — he opens them, swiping through the pages of naked men, handsome naked men — so that's where you got the idea from.

“I found something crazier,” Seungmin mumbles, his surprised amusement itching his throat. “Come see.”

He does, and that's probably the last thing he was anticipating to see in your room. There's toys, he can't blame you for that. But it's the specification of them.

Seungmin picks a dildo up, the shape weird in his palm. “You think that went inside?”

It's long. Sharp at the tip, purple with suctions on the edges. The picture of you using it to get off plagues his mind, and he's not scared to admit that it turns him on.

Jeongin blinks, his face running hot at the thought. He had thought you’d be naive, hence why you kept reacting with such innocence and timidity. Perhaps not, perhaps it was the complete opposite.

“Who would picture her for a pervert,” he doubts his own words, the heavy gulp from Jeongin echoes in their pulsating eardrums. “Are you weirded out?”

“Kinda,” Jeongin admits, his nails finding the curve of his nape, the skin heats under his fingertips. “Would it be wrong to be into it?”

Seungmin stares at him, the answer to that clear in both of their minds. He's about to reply when they hears the front door click.

“Fuck–”

They panic, cursing under their breath as they rush to put everything back neatly. In place exactly how they found it. There's a dog barking in the distance, and a muffled hint of your voice peering through.

Your steps get closer, the wooden floor creaking when you reach your bedroom door. The doorknob twists, the movement almost in slow motion until the surface bursts open the second you hear something — some things you shouldn't be hearing inside your bedroom.

“What the–!” you shout, vision instantly crashing on the two of them. They're sitting idly, Jeongin on your chair and Seungmin on the bed. On their phone. “What are you doing here?” the urgency in your voice cracking it open.

“We were…” Seungmin eyes Jeongin briefly, who is as clueless as him, “waiting for you.”

“In my room–?”

The dog barks again.

“I mean, where else?”

You whine, the worry on your face is pitiful. Brows knitted, mouth into a thin–pouty line. Your lashes keep fluttering close, not grasping the situation quite well. “Did you… find anything?” you ask and they shake their heads.

You want to believe them, you wish to. But they are breathing a millisecond quicker, chests heaving uncharacteristically. The tip of their ears are red, and you're not confident on what brought this reaction to them. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, what do you want us to find?” Seungmin questions and you grumble, knees bobbing in anxiety.

“Nothing,” it's small, dropping the book you've borrowed from the library on the desk, and their eyes suspiciously follow the object; trying to decipher what's written on it as if it was the holy grail. “We can move to the common room–”

“Actually,” Jeongin interrupts. “Can we use your shower real quick? We haven't since practice ended.”

You blink, glancing around briefly before nodding hesitantly. “Go ahead…” you point to the bathroom and they lift up. Seungmin pauses midway, turning to you.

“By the way, we bought you popsicles. It's in the freezer, wasn't sure which flavour you’d prefer,” he says, lips quirking upwards, “so we brought both.”

—

The shower runs as a waterfall in your head, fixed in the middle of your bed for the past ten minutes. You checked your things once. Barely. You gave it a sliver of a glance, too embarrassed to properly check. Having no courage to stand up and try again.

So, you overthink it.

Clicking the tip of your nails between your teeth, leg shaking stressfully. You don’t feel so well, “What if they found out…” you whisper under a breath, the popsicle cools down your wrist, the melting liquid drooling on your skin. You don’t notice with several scenarios busying your attention. You’d prefer if they snapped at you, called you a weirdo and forced you to switch schools rather than feigning innocence. Because it sure felt like they were. Then you’d be clear of doubts that they’re aware of what’s hidden here, instead of living in crippling anxiety.

You’re on the verge of breaking down when the shower stops, snapping you out of your never-ending thoughts as the doorknob tilts open. It stops briefly, you can hear their conversation faintly, not clear enough to make out what they’re saying until the door eventually opens.

The sight has your heartbeat erratic, lungs squeezing for a sudden breather as they come out of your bathroom shirtless.

Jeongin’s pants hang low, low enough to show the trace of his V line and the waistband of his boxers. He dries the edge of his hair with the towel hanging around his neck. Seungmin’s behind him, the droplets from his damp strands rolling down his shoulders, to his chest. The view of his abs casually flexing with his steps has you faltering.

“Where— where are your clothes…!?” you squeal, palms covering your eyes like a sneaky child. It’d be endearing if they didn’t know what type of person you truly are. Still, they step forward.

“Clothes? We’re wearing–” Jeongin replies and you shake your head, face flushed.

“No, your shirts—”

“Oh, you mean that.” Seungmin hums, knee digging into the mattress and you might just die. “Sorry, it’s in the washer,” he mentions, somehow never showing any remorse in his apologies. “Does it bother you that we’re here like this?”

“I’m not sure–” you mean to say yes, but Jeongin finds comfort on your left. Casually laying onto your pillow, the same one you… oh.

“The water pressure here is low-key more decent than ours. Isn’t it, hyung?”

Seungmin steals the towel from Jeongin, fading the flush that crept on his face from the shower, “Yeah, makes you wanna stay in here longer. We should come here more often. You wouldn’t mind right?”

The glimpse you take at his dripping chest is well noticed by him, faintly smirking when you take in a quiet gulp, lashes battling in malfunction. “Uhm, I have to ask… my roommate.”

“I’m sure she’ll have zero problem with it, noona. I’m confident nobody on campus can refuse us,” Jeongin reassures, glancing at the dribbling popsicle in your grip, fingers tight on the wooden stick. He sighs, digits digging into your wrist, stabilising your trembling hold. “Noona, look at the mess you’re causing,” he mutters, voice close to your ears. “It’s dripping everywhere, do you like it that way?”

Seungmin pats your head, because you seem on the verge of tears — eyes glossy, blinking to prevent anything from overflowing. It’s pathetic, he thinks he’s infatuated. “She must, Ayen, her hand is all sticky. Such a wet mess, it’s drooling onto your sheets.” he insinuates, forcing you to notice the blueish drops that stains your bed.

Your brain stops working altogether, voice staggering in an apology as you try to stand but they prevent you from doing so.

“Relax, we’ll clean it up for you.” Seungmin says, and Jeongin moves on the spot.

Plump lips meeting the veins on your wrist, a stark reminder of yesterday that you hardly forgot, and now they’re adding new material to your poor mind.

“No, no,” you beg in a whimper, embarrassed with the moan that leaves you when his tongue darts at the liquid, licking a long stripe from the bottom of your wrist to your palm. He holds eye contact, Seungmin shutting off any attempt of you averting your gaze. “I’m sorry–”

Seungmin tilts his head, lifting your chin to gaze at where he’s standing above your lying figure, “Don’t be.” he smiles, “this is out of free will.”

He lays back when Jeongin’s done with the cleanup. The younger holds the popsicle before you, they can practically feel your heat from here. Fuck, you must be soaking from this alone. It takes a lot not to pounce on you already, but they’ll wait. Feed you whatever you desire, mess with your pretty little head till you’re left a pleading mess.

That’s the plan.

“Say aah,” Jeongin guides, tutting when you shake your head.

“Demonstrate,” Seungmin suggests, tone smug. “It’s probably her first time.”

You whine, the world tight and dizzy. Your head pivots, the situation too overwhelming for you to react. Their words are dirty, it feels double meaning, but Jeongin’s mouth parting around the popsicle in your hand has you buffering. Thighs pressing uncomfortable, certain that the pool of desire in your stomach is visible in your body language.

“Pay attention,” he reminds you, like he was instructing a class. His tongue peeks out, catching the drop that was threatening to spill as he runs his mouth all the way up to the top. He lays his tongue flat on the underside, hypnotizing when he sucks on it with a hard pop that nearly breaks the desert. You picture that was your clit instead, the same plump lips wrapping around your lips and… No. This is wrong, but it feels so right.

“It’s sweet, you should try it.” Jeongin smirks, his dimples popping as he brings the spit covered desert to your lips. “Please?” his cock jumps when you part your lips tentatively, a small — gaping hole for him to push the popsicle in. It leaks at the corners of your mouth, gasping when he shoves it deeper.

Seungmin grunts, a pang of nasty jealousy ringing through at the sight of Jeongin using you like this. He heaves up, tugging closer to your body — arm snugging your waist to get you to fit into his body. It’s haste, sudden enough for Jeongin not to get the chance for a response. “Let me have a taste.”

You’re about to hand him the popsicle, but he gets rid of it before you. Confused when his lips suddenly collide with yours with a, “hmph—!”

He kisses you like he missed the sensation of you in his mouth. The threads of patience left in him finally snapping. His lips are as you remember them, delicate but harsh. The taste of blueberry on your lips has his moaning in your mouth, parting your lips with his tongue, licking at the inside of your warmth — careful not to miss any drop of sugar.

Jeongin’s grip on your thighs tightens, blunt nails digging onto the fabric and you wince in pained pleasure, escaping from Seungmin’s ministration for a fraction of second. Long enough for Jeongin to react, he doesn’t wait politely in order to push your head towards him. Lips molding into place — harder than Seungmin — more teeth and possession enrobing the kiss, drawing a high pitched sound from him when your fingers instinctively lace through his silky locks; brushing his scalp in your search for support. To tug at something and cling to it.

He invades your senses, body mushed to yours, sandwiching you between the two of them as his hands trail past your thighs to the button of your pants. He stops on the seam, thumb absently tracing in the ridge of the circle. Seungmin's breath is on your neck, brushing off the strands of hair to pamper the skin with reminders of him.

Jeongin pulls your wrist towards him, kissing your palm before moving to yank off your cardigan. Seungmin takes the hint, deft fingers hurrying to undo the buttons attaching the wool altogether, groping your tits in the process. A sense of urgency hits you as they begin undressing you, throbbing under their hungry demeanor.

“Wait– Wait!” you choke out, hands flailing forward. They pause, wearing an expression that screams nobody has ever told them to wait before. Confused, though they're considerate enough to give you an inch of distance to gather your thoughts. “I've never…” you admit, abashed. “I’ve never done any of this…”

A second passes, and you cuss yourself for it. Shouldn't you have said that? — did you ruin the mood?

However, Jeongin spreads your legs wider, his grip softens small enough to go unnoticed. “Is that an issue?” he asks, “Do you want us to stop?”

He's asking you if it's an issue. You're thrown aback, lips swollen and jaw slack. You had thought they'd take you for an inexperienced loser — to make fun of you, and it to be their worry. Not yours.

Stop?

“No,” you reply, almost scared that they'll pull away. “Don't stop, please.”

Seungmin inhales against your nape, teeth nibbling down. Teasing. “You know, yn,” he begins, palms trailing across your body slower than earlier, this time savouring the shape of you in his grip. “I've been wanting to fuck you for a while, just couldn't tell why.” you shiver, and he smiles. “Weird, because I can always tell why I want someone. Maybe, I know why now.”

Your mouth dries, or salivates?

Mind too clouded with a simple question to care, “Why…?”

He laughs, quiet, scarcely a blow of air. “That's a secret between me and Jeongin.”

Your buttons come off. Revealing your bare shoulders when the cardigan gets thrown loose somewhere on the floor along with the forgotten popsicle, all that's left is a soaking mess of it. A mirror of you if they choose to dive their hands a bit further. But they can already tell. They know.

Jeongin's knee nestles between your parted thighs, and you close them on him by reflex. He groans as the meat rubs on his aching cock with the help of Seungmin's grip grinding you on his friend's leg. “Say,” Jeongin rasps by your lips, drawing the sweetest breathless noises out of you from the motion on your clothed clit. “Do you want me or him?”

You wonder if your hearing is playing on you, eyes hovering to Seungmin's briefly because you're not positive of what Jeongin could mean by that. If that's a proper question to answer, or a trap–

“Go ahead,” Seungmin assures, “answer his question.”

No matter how much you dwell on it, the beats that pass. You've got only one answer on the tip of your tongue, “Both– I can't choose… please,” you're putty in their hands, eyes closing in a plea, “don't make me choose...”

“Such a greedy girl,” Seungmin whispers, tracing the edge of your shirt. “You heard her, Ayen-ah. Stop being a possessive asshole.”

Jeongin's smile falters, painfully aware of the playground Seungmin is setting. He'll say that, then do the exact same thing he's reprimanding Jeongin from doing.

Like the dirty lying cheater he is, it's just a game of belonging to him. No — to them. He's not so innocent either, it's not the first time this is happening. For whatever reason, he's not too fond of sharing this once. You're such a fascinating little thing, he wants to keep you to himself.

Not long before the rest starts meddling, then it'll be a game of chess. The thought alone has his skin prickly, but for now, maybe he'll give you what you want.

If you want Seungmin too — then so be it. Playing dirty is not unfamiliar in the house; to hand you each of your fantasies one by one, till you're unable to digest anything else but him.

“Take her clothes off, take it–” Jeongin snarls. Maybe he's a little angry, it diffuses on the way he reaches for the zipper of your pants, flying it open and a pop of buttons. Seungmin complies, much needing to see more of you as he lifts your arms. Ripping the shirt off your head with impatience, leaving your chest bare except for the lace of your bra. Seungmin shudders at the sight of your cleavage above your shoulder, salivating when you hurry to cover yourself so timidly as if there aren't several deranged materials hidden in every corner of this bedroom.

You're an iceberg he's willing to dive under the sea to discover, to get you to spill all your dirty secrets by the time he's done with you. To coax it out, along with the whimpers you let out when he removes your arms from your chest. “Don't hide, show me.”

“You're pretty like this. Pretty face,” his hand trails to your back, unclasping your bra with a click. “Pretty tits, I bet you've got a pretty cunt too.”

Your face heats impossibly, as if you weren't already scorching before. Just then, Jeongin's thumbs lock on the waistline of your pants, rolling them off by jerking your hips forward. Panties are the sole thing left on you, and you could die from humiliation. Your skin flushes with heat, burning.

Seungmin lays back, pulling you with him till you're up against his bare chest. Naked flesh-on-flesh. He could lick at your goosebumps.

Jeongin crawls in front of your curved knees, palms clasping on your knees, easily using his strength to open your thighs. “You're dripping,” he points out upon seeing the damp spot on the gusset of the thin cloth, hardly providing ample coverage to your aching cunt.

“Don't say that–” you whine, lips pressing when he runs a thumb on your covered slick, the cotton clings to your labia. “Oh…” the sensation's already different from what you're used to from a swipe alone, the pleasure incomparable to what you've felt before.

“So responsive, we've barely touched you,” he praises, nuzzling the side of your face. His behavior could be mistaken for affection if you didn't know better.

This got to be a figment of your imagination. A made up situation in your brain, but their touches are hard enough to seem real. Subconsciously answering your question when Seungmin pinches your thigh, earning an involuntary grind from you that has him gasping for more. Needy since the last time you left them blue-balled at seven in the morning.

“More,” you plead and they scoff. Mirroring each other's actions.

“Already? Thought it'd take more to make you beg,” Seungmin amuses, finger curling on the edge of your panties when he abruptly pulls onto the elastic before snapping it back to your skin. It stings, and he's having fun doing it again. He's mean, catching you off guard when the next tug tears the fabric — ignoring the hitch in your voice. “See how easy that was?” he taunts, eyes landing onto Jeongin's who's bluntly ignoring him; busy tearing the broken fabric from you completely. Bare pussy catching the cold air from the crack of your ajar window.

Rough thumb makes contact with your clit, hips jolting in his direction with an, “Ah–!”

Jeongin drinks in your reaction, lowering his head till he's met with your leaking cunt. He breathes in, taking in your scent, letting himself get familiar with it. Digits run across your slit, coating them with your fluids, teasing the entrance. He lifts his vision — challenging Seungmin's. “Hyung,” his tone is sharp around the edges, cutting through with irritation, “you're fucking annoying me.”

“Am I?” Seungmin coos, mocking the one between your legs as he helps him spread them wider, holding you nice and open for Jeongin. “You should be more grateful, you know? I'm letting you have this. Let you kiss her first, let you tag along. Brought you here with me,” he replies, fist snaking to your bare pussy, fingers forcing a V to spread your lips apart for Jeongin. “I'm giving you another opportunity, and you're complaining?”

“Funny,” Jeongin chuckles, spitting onto your gaping hole. “You think I'm doing this because you're giving it to me,” a thick finger breaches you — sharp contrast to your own. “Her? You're giving her to me, hilarious.”

They're talking about you as if you aren't physically present, you might be, but your mind is elsewhere. Guilty of how much desire this twists in your stomach, heels digging into the mattress in forbidden pleasure when he adds a second one. Fingers that have been plaguing your mind since the first time you sat across the same table, so deep inside that he's hitting that tender spot without trouble.

“Jeongin–” you cry out, and he smirks in temporary triumph, pussy gushing against his fingers. He curves them, watching how your head throws back onto Seungmin's shoulder, thighs quivering shut if it wasn't from the shared grips holding you in place.

“That's it, cry out my name,” he encourages, sweetly planting a kiss to your clit. Drawing a high pitched squeal out of you, parting his fingers — forcing you to take the stretch. “You gon cum from that? From me scissoring you wide?” he asks and you nod feverishly, tilting to the edge shamefully fast.

But you don't think you've got any dignity left in you when you allow them to talk to you — about you like this.

He licks a stripe down, warm tongue something you've never experienced in your life. The sound is obscene, lapping at your overflowing juices in wild excitement to get you to your peak.

He neglects your clit at first, focusing on gathering the spilling drops with his wet muscle, darting on your lips in sloppy open-mouthed kisses. Enveloping his mouth above your spasming hole, the tip of his tongue inches inside. Seungmin's thumb suddenly makes contact with your throbbing nub, applying just enough pressure in tight circles to bring you to the edge.

“Fuck– ahh!” you moan out, loud — confident that the neighboring students can hear you across the dorms’ thin walls. “Stop–! Can't—” you squeak when neither of them halts, continuing their abuse on your sensitive pussy, snapping shut around Jeongin's head as he slurps your release, notorious sounds escaping his mouth. Moaning at your taste.

“Just like that, you sound so adorable.” Seungmin praises, sitting you upright with him. His hands find your hips, guiding you to lean forward on your knees. Jeongin maneuvers you from the front, lowering you so that you're at level with his prominent bulge. He's straining his pants, the fabric tight.

You aren't distracted for long with Seungmin's grind on your rear. Palms flat on your bare ass, kneading the flesh adoringly. “Shit,” you both curse when his erection makes contact with your slippery cunt, dirtying the fabric of his pants. “Looks like I'd fit right in,” he mutters under his breath, spreading your cheeks wide to hump your ass in dirty, languid strokes. “Don't you think so too?”

He's talking to either of you, his tone ever condescending.

The tension of their passive argument lingers when Jeongin takes hold of your hair, grip digging in your scalp. Holding you down to the roots, hunching you to the bulge stretching his pants. “Blow me,” he commands. Bold. “Moan against my dick, that's where I wanna hear you.”

You fumble with the zipper. You're shaking too much but it seems like you're the only person here who’s getting bothered by it. This is a sick fantasy. This is…

However. 

He rolls his pants down, boxers quickly following suit. He's aching, torturously hard and sore. He needs you now, and the sight of him being freed is enough to shut your mind. You stare at him, big wide eyes wondering what to do next. Even though you know, you’re scared of doing it wrong. He sighs shakily. You’re going to kill him, he might cum from you staring alone. “Noona,” the nickname has your insides knotting this time, pussy begging to be filled just as your mouth. “Come on, open up for me.”

He taps the tip against your lower lip, smudging the precum beautifully on the soft tissue. You open, welcoming him in with a testing lick. Moaning at the salty taste of him on your tongue. He’s addictive, licking off the beads that threaten to spill from his tip earnestly. “Yeaahhh, like that. Use your lips.” he groans, a trail of sweat inching down his neck when you wrap your pretty lips around the crown. Clumsily circling the shape with your tongue. “Oh, oh.” your moves are amateur, but the eagerness in which you’re trying makes his balls tighten. Perhaps you’re still timid. It’s fine, he’ll help you learn.

Using the roots of your head, he pushes you forward slowly, taking his time to feed you inch by inch. Stopping when a wet gag keens from your throat, drool pooling at the seam of your mouth, dribbling past your chin. “Slower, yeah?” He stills when you nod, doing your best to breathe through your nose like you’ve seen on online forums. It’s more difficult than you thought, somehow, you can smell the taste of him up your nostrils.

You’re persisting to accommodate when a sudden intrusion jolts your lashes open. A muffled mewl echoing past his cock at the feel of something lengthy and searing brushes on your clit. Your hips grind against it involuntarily, rolling back to meet the upcoming thrusts on your cunt. The image of Seungmin coming back to you. You falter, and Seungmin is the one who kneads your waist, fingers doughing with the surface of your tummy. “Keep sucking him–” he pants. Bending forward, his arm rests under your stomach, two fingers diving inside without restraint. “Vaccuming me inside, think you’re ready?” he hisses through his teeth, thrusting his digits in just to test the waters before pulling out.

You weren’t ready.

He tried to show you mercy, starting off at a horrendously steady pace. Kind enough to. Past the tip and it begins to burn, the stretch wider—lenghtier than fingers. “God,” he strangles. You’re hugging him so tightly, snug and warm. He never wants to leave, etching crescent marks on your skin, “should’ve fuckass bent you over the first time I saw you–”

Every whimper you make vibrates up Jeongin’s cock, and he knows that he should separate — to give you time to get used to taking cock, but a wave of selfishness prevents him from doing as such. If anything, it entices him to force himself deeper. Greedily shoving his length down your throat. You gag, coughing around him as your vision blurs from the double sensation. Seungmin bottoms out, hitting spots that you weren’t aware of existing. “Mhmph–!” is all you can muster, palms landing flat on Jeongin’s spread thighs in your struggle to handle any of this.

They weren’t fond of teamwork, but now they’re moving in tandem. A silent agreement coursing through when they start to thrust, not aiming to be nice anymore with the curses that fly past their lips. Handling you with little care — Jeongin drags your head all the way off, leaving your mouth gaping and craving oxygen — barely a breath before he plunges back in, coercing you to develop a gag reflex on your first time.

Meanwhile Seungmin pounds your behind, ignoring the dangerous quiver of your thighs, holding your legs open with a hand. His other palm lays flat on your stomach, applying a delicious pressure that has you seeing tunnel vision. He’s ramming his way in, breaking your wretched virgin pussy. He’s not going to last long with the sight of you choking on his friend’s cock, each of his erratic thrusts making you throat him deeper. Forcing whimpers out of his chest when you clench — hard from your impending orgasm. His angelic voice fills your mind when he presses his bare chest to your slippery back, giving your clit a harsh slap just to hear similar sounds that might mask his own from you — or Jeongin, both.

You can’t voice a warning when your mouth is stuffed full, instead hurryingly tapping Jeongin’s thighs, making him stutter in his pace to observe your face. Alas, it’s too late, Seungmin can already feel you creaming him, pussy gripping him like a vice. “Fuck, yn–” he moans, balls throbbing harshly that he has to forcingly pull out. Warm hand instantly replacing your much favoured cunt, jerking himself off — wincing at the strokes like it tortured him not to do this inside instead. He threads onto that sanity, thumb applying pressure on the underside of his tip, releasing hot ropes across your back. Tainting you with him.

Jeongin immediately abandons the confinement of your mouth, throwing you flat on the sheets. Your tiny, surprised, “oomph–” is adorable, but he’s got no time to dwell on it. Seeking comfort between the solace of your thighs, knocking them open. He aligns himself, assuming that you can take it now — plunging inside without warning signs. “Wait—!” you struggle, face contorting to pleasured overstimulation, extremely sensitive. “I can’t take no more–”

He cradles your face, a brief attempt of comfort as he leans down to suck on your neck. “You can,” he mutters, biting down. “Just a little more.”

Seungmin takes hold of your jaw, directing your head to face him. His lips meet yours in an awkward, upside-down kiss. The position has your teeth clicking, causing a drooling mess on your chin. Dizzy with how he’s stealing your breath. The whine of his name pushing out of your mouth earns a low grunt from him. Your eyes squeeze, lips smacking and skin slapping echoing throughout the corners of the room. Overwhelming, you can’t stop kissing him, cocking your head to the side to give him better access. Running onto cloud nine by sharing his saliva when he sucks on your tongue harshly.

Jeongin grows desperate, the bites on your flesh turning more cruel in his ride. The taste of that familiar high on the tip of his tongue, obsessed with every pant you take, obsessed with how your nails rake at the muscles on his back. Your stomach contracts under him, and he applies more of his weight, crushing your body in order to blend the two of you together. “Gonna cum, fuck.” he whines, tone taking a higher pitch. Nearly slipping out with how you’re wetting him, not wanting to let him go. He knows you’re close too. He sits up, dragging your legs above his shoulders, supporting you there. Sharing a brief eye contact with Seungmin who takes the hint — three fingers circle your clit in quick eights. You thrash violently, something uncanny from the last two orgasms approaching. You flail your arms, but Seungmin takes hold of them with one hand, pinning your wrists above your head despite your distressed attempts to slow down.

“Feels weird, please–” you shake, tears coating your cheeks as they whisper quick ‘come on’ in your ears. Drawing you impossibly close when the thread snaps — the coil coming undone.

You’re a fountain, juices running out like tap water, horrified when they drag it out. It won’t stop, and they’re gratifying in it. “My god, she’s squirting all over.” Seungmin comments, unable to find the controlled edge in his tone. You cry from shame, though, that’s exactly what you’ve been dying for. Jeongin finally pulls out, bobbing his hand up and down his cock and he spurts onto your stomach, painting you white.

Breathing heavily, a silence falls through. Taking in your dishevelled state, you can barely move a hair. Muscle spasming lazily, fingers twitching from creeping tiredness. You still are in disbelief that this just happened. Not earlier, and certainly not when they start to stand, looking around for something to wipe you with.

A faint, exhausted smile tugs at your lips the second they leave the room.

Maybe.