For starters, Lucy is an amazing cop and has been ever since she saved his life from a gun wound on her first shift on the job. Even for someone who received hours upon hours of hardship and frustrations from him as her training officer, Lucy Chen didn't let down for the twelve months she was shop-bound to him. And still, she is yet to prove Tim wrong in his confidence that Lucy could be - and possibly will be - a better cop than him.

Even more importantly, Lucy is an amazing friend too. Tim solemnly believes that everyone deserves to have a friend like Lucy; someone who can help you through the hardest and best times of your life without an ounce of judgement or jealousy. Better yet, someone who understands the longevity of pain and grief and still decides to stay by your side through it all.

Lucy's hilarious, the kind of hilarious where she hasn't even said the punch line yet because she's already laughing. And, well, laughing is contagious. She's also kind, thoughtful, and self-aware to push the jokes aside and give Tim a hug or a comforting smile when she knows he needs it.

There's many things in this life Tim Bradford doesn't feel rich of, but he most certainly feels it when he has a friend as good as Lucy Chen.

All in all, Lucy is protective, quick-witted, and intelligent in so many ways within the arts of academia and pure morality.

...And that's the problem.

Lucy Chen is protective. Quick-witted. And intelligent.

Which makes the situation Tim is in so much fucking worse.

Because you, little Miss Chen, is everything Tim Bradford should not find attractive.

You're nothing like your sister; you're sweet and kind, of course, and you have those pretty, dazzling eyes too. But, you manoeuvre through life with a lack of urgency and carefree, late-minute plans. Your smile is your weapon, and you most certainly can use it well to get your way- just a simple lowering of your chin and the batting of your eyelashes with that pretty fucking smile could lure anyone including Tim to do anything you want or need.

There's something so unique about you, Tim could even tell from the first time he met you at the station. On the occasion that Lucy forgot something, like her phone charger ("My phone's on 2% and I only just started my shift!"), or important documents she'd taken home to review ("Please, please bring them in. Sergeant Grey will kill me if he finds out I didn't bring them back!"), you were the delivery girl!

Of course, like the little sister that you are, would complain about taking time out of your day-offs ("Seriously, Luce, I'm literally in the middle of my shower! You can wait ten minutes until I'm done."), but, nonetheless, you always came to your big sister's rescue with a classiness that was overpowered by your chaos.

Mismatched socks, embroidered tote bag and a coloured cardigan meant you stood out like a sore thumb. And if that wasn't obvious enough, you overshare too. Literally.

Tim remembers how you walked in for the first time with two coffees in your hands, chatting to Smitty with a wide-beamed grin as he guided you to Lucy ("Oh my god, me too Smitty! But honestly, I so prefer the bath bombs that don't have glitter in them. Literally days later I'll still be finding glitter in my ears." "...Wait, you're not supposed to go underwater when you have bath bombs, Little Chen." "Oh...heh...you're not?")

But, aside from your dramatic entrance about God damn bath bombs, actually meeting you for the first time was an absolute life-changing event.

Because as you stood in front of Lucy, passing her not only her required necessities in the tote bag AND one of the coffees, well, Tim's ears perked at the sound of your soft voice asking:

"And where's Sergeant Bradford?"

Lucy - mid-way through her sip - raised your brows, "Oh, yes! You two can finally meet! Here-" And before Tim could even prepare himself, putting his heart eyes into the back of his brain and forming whatever stoic expression he usually shows, you and Lucy had made your way over to him.

Lucy - big-grinned - Chen placed her free hand on his shoulder comfortingly as she glanced between you two, "This, is Tim. He's a softie, I swear."

"A softie, hey?" You mocked your sister's words, "He's looking at me like he wants to kill me."

Well, Tim was definitely looking at you- that was for sure. Baby blues grazed from mis-matched lengths of your white socks to the exposure of your legs that earned a skip to his heart beat. He continued up to where your navy cotton dance shorts rested just on your hips and your black sports bra that complimented the fuck out of your breasts.

God, did he just want to glide those shorts down along with whatever pretty underwear your wore underneath, inviting you to squeeze your thighs around his head as he began exploring the depths of you 'till you were a squirming mess-

"Well, I got you a coffee. Hope that my spares my fortune."

Tim blinked.

"...What?"

"A long black, right? That's what Lucy told me anyway."

Tim had to blink again, not just to rid his nasty, sick thoughts, but also because...you got him a coffee?

You stood there patiently, one hand outstretched with his coffee in your hand as you wore a smile that was so authentic, kind and full of fun, "I didn't spit in it if that's what you're concerned about."

"I- no, just...unexpected," Tim dared to share a glance at an oblivious, smiling Lucy as he took the paper cup from your very own hands- velvet skin, warm and cozy. "Thank you."

By how Tim could hear the small hitch in your breath as you touched fingers, and how your eyes faulted to look away from the bulge of his biceps...let's say it wasn't just him running fantasies in his mind, either.

Though as much as Tim could've pulled you aside and asked to take you out, fuck, he absolutely could not.

Because if anything can remind Tim of why he shouldn't be with you, so much as even fuck you, well, you're way too young for him, at least by a fucking decade, and for Heaven's sake- you're Lucy's younger sister. How much worse could you be for him?

It just so happens that you were a blue moon shining against crashing waters: always rare to come by, but on the off-chance that you did, it always felt like a punch to his heart.

Tim's been sitting on this for months now.

Every time you pop up at the station, a loud alarm shakes his brain, shouting something stupid like 'CRUSH ALERT! CRUSH ALERT!' and Tim is fucking reminded again and again that he absolutely can not, and will not- no matter how much his straining cock and ringing ears tell him otherwise.

Today, however, is a little different.

Because rather than Lucy needing you, roles have reversed and you need Lucy.

The 'crisis' happens on a sunny morning in the middle of LA summer, where the air is everything blazing and sticky. Though, while they drive along in the shop with the air -con blasting into their faces, Lucy and Tim are careless of the weather's worries- clearly evident to their chattering and mixture of laughter.

Lucy's only just getting to the good part of her story ("And so after I yelled at this guy to maybe prioritise spraying deodorant on himself rather than catcalling me- GUESS what he did?!"), when a sudden vibration in her work pants catches her attention.

Lucy jumps, "Oh! Sorry, gimme a sec," She murmurs, putting a hold to their conversation as she fishes out her phone mid-giggle.

Half heartedly expecting it to be anyone but, Lucy's brows furrow when she realises the receiving call is coming from you.

A small curse escaping Lucy's throat is enough to make Tim glance over, "Everything okay?" He asks.

"Yeah, it's my sister." She mutters, as if that doesn't make Tim's heart earn a kick at the sound of your name.

Nonetheless, Lucy slides her finger to the 'accept' button, not even thinking twice before pressing speaker either (A 'rookie' mistake, if I must say), "Hey, girl! You good?"

"Hi Luce!" And oh, does your voice sound like soft butter beneath a sunrise, "Yeah...uhh- funny you say that...

I...um. I locked myself out of my apartment."

A second passes through the conversation, only to be started up again by the obnoxious long sigh Lucy lets out.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"I don't joke about these things, Lucy." But Tim can still hear the light humour uplifting your voice. "I was just taking the trash out and the door slammed behind me. And - if it helps your sense of urgency - I'm in my pjs. Like...no bra, no undies-"

Lucy chokes on her own saliva, obviously regretting not making Tim's presence aware to you as she quickly looks over at her boss' cheeks reddening with apologetic, wide brown eyes.

And Tim will admit it, of course he's fucking blushing as he imagines you - sweet, kind you - in thin pyjama shorts and a cami top wearing nothing underneath.

Not that Lucy needs to know that.

Lucy brings her palm to her forehead as she groans loudly, "Jesus Christ, I'm working right now, you can't say shit like that!"

"Why? What's wrong with letting my nips and vagina breathe for once?" You protest, clearly unfazed, "God forbid a girl takes a break from wearing a bra-"

"Oh my god-"

Tim doesn't allow his brain to allocate time for preparation before his lips start moving, "Do you have a bobby pin you can use to unpick the door lock?"

There's an obvious amount of stunned silence on your end, being clearly confused from the sudden intrusion of another voice.

But, no person has that rough, raspy tone none other than your sister's hot Sergeant and God, do you like to be reminded of his presence.

"...How long has Sergeant Bradford been listening for?"

Lucy grumbles, "The whole time."

"Ah, great..." A nervous chuckle fills the shop, "Morning, Sir! My apologies, didn't know you were here." You pause, patting your hair for any bobby pins that could've magically appeared on your hair.

Though, to your dismay: "And...no. No bobby pins."

There's a short few seconds on the line as Tim and Lucy look at each other, communication written in their eyes before Tim's mouth moves first.

"Where are you right now?"

"...Uh, front of my apartment door, sitting next to it like a pathetic loser." Shifting can be heard as you bring your knees up to your chest, "Didn't realise how uncomfortable this floor is until now. Deadset my ass is getting a bruise tomorrow."

Tim can't help himself when a small chuckle escapes his throat, only to quickly cover it up by a faux cough.

Lucy's smarter though, and she's sending him a death glare before answering:

"Look, we're not far. Probably five minutes away."

"Oh my fucking God- that long?" You draw it out.

Lucy scoffs, "Be grateful we're even considering helping you, you little shit. It's clear I'm the only competent sibling in the family."

"Yeah? Well, I'm funnier."

She rolls her eyes, "That is so debatable."

"I'm prettier too."

"Be respectful! My sergeant is in the shop and he can hear every single thing you're saying."

You choose to fight her as you hum innocently, "Okay, well, he didn't disagree."

Tim chokes on air, violently.

Lucy glares at him and virtually at you too before she shakes her head, "Be there in four." And before she can even provide a second for you to express your gratitude, she's hanging up the phone.

Tim's smart enough to know to shut up by now, but he can't deny the stirring swell of a current forming in his chest.

You're letting out a puff of breath when you recognise the warm, familiar caring presence of your older sister, and the handsome man that tends to follow her as they step out of the elevator.

Tim's taller than what you remembered the last time you saw him- possibly the other week at the station when Lucy had forgotten another case file. But, compared to Luce, he's tall, he's hot as all hell, he's broad-

He's also royally fucked.

Tim is so, so fucked.

God help Tim because those are the smallest fucking pyjamas he's ever seen just covering your thighs and your cleavage. It's enough to not spill anything out but honestly, he's trying his best to ignore the strain that's ever so slowly growing in his pants.

He's no expert, but he can tell they're decent quality; a simple white cotton set that's comfortable and breathable-

And my god, does he want to rip them off you.

"Finally!" You exclaim, standing up with a wince as the tender ache in your glutes releases through your body, "Probably would've melted to the floor if I stayed there another minute or so."

"Enough from you," Lucy grumbles, yet, still pulling you into a soft embrace as she hugs your side- minimal, but effective. Tim forces himself to drag his eyes away, though keeping his stance in front of you so the problem presents itself in front of him...your door. "Cute pyjamas."

You grin, "Thank you! You best believe I stole these from Victoria's Secret."

A beat passes. Then, Lucy and Tim both turn to you with widened eyes in sync.

"Oh my god, kidding!" You hold your hands up quickly, "Jesus, you two are no fun."

And if it were anyone else, Tim Bradford would've ripped into them about how serious shoplifting allegations are taken, classified under California's Penal Code Section 459.5, which he'd state: If convicted of a misdemeanour act of shoplifting, the penalty may be six months in a county jail, a $1,000 fine, or both a fine and jail time.

Tim, instead, keeps his mouth shut and turns to the wooden white door that stares back at him, tauntingly.

Lucy, too dumbfounded to even try to discipline you, shakes her head, followed by an audible groan, "Why are you like this?"

You shrug, "I was probably dropped as a baby."

Tim's ears perk to your response and he chuckles- low and warm. And the rough voice of your sister's sergeant has you canting your head to look at him, suddenly feeling a sense of 'pride' bubble within you.

Lucy frowns. How were you so quick to make her sergeant laugh? Hell, Tim only began to even smile at her once she was close to finishing her Rookie year.

Before either Lucy or you can make a comment on it, a curious sound escapes Lucy as her hands grasp onto her vibrating cellphone.

"Oh! I'll be outside, Angela is calling." And before either of you two can respond, she's already pressing 'answer' and rushing to the end of the hallway- not too far that she's out of of vision, but enough to make it feel like you've been left alone with Tim Bradford.

"Think you can unlock it without breaching it?" You ask, resting your shoulder against the wall beside your door, folding your arms in the process.

Tim doesn't mean to come off cocky, but the nod he sends you to his left - where you stand - is confident, and he squints his eyes as he drives his right hand to the heavy duty belt resting on his hips.

"Probably could've unlocked this thing with a bobby pin if you had one," Then, he kneels down once he finds his lock pick tools; a tension wrench and a rake- two essentials that come in handy every now and then when a civilian needs help (not that any of them have been in their short, see-through pyjamas with nipples perking at his attention).

He peers up at you, eyes trying so hard to focus on your own. "You ever lock picked before?"

You smirk, "You tryna get me to commit a crime, Sir?"

Sir.

Tim's breath falters at the name, and he can't deny that his blood rushes even more south to the sweet sound of your voice calling him Sir.

Jesus Christ, everyone calls him Sir- but why is it so different when you do it?

"I-" He quickly glances back at the lock, "No, 'course not. Lock picking is essential, especially for situations like the one you're in right now."

"Okay, well, no. I haven't lock picked before."

A second or two passes by, "Come watch."

You let out a huff, "I'll be fine, thanks. I'm sure I won't make the mistake of leaving the window open when it's windy-"

"Come here."

Your heart skips a beat.

It's a demand, not an invitation, and his ordering around does something terrifyingly arousing to your ovaries as you squeak out an, "Okay."

Stepping closer to Tim feels invasive but no more intimate than when you kneel down beside him, feeling the brush of his uniform against your bare arms and earning yourself goosebumps that you're sure he can see.

He can, and Tim refrains himself from shuddering when he can also smell your dainty aroma of florals and vanilla- a scent that he only likes on you. And you're close, so fucking close he can hear your quiet exhales coming from your pretty lips.

He's fucking glad Lucy is too far to even notice.

Ignoring the sudden change to the quiet yet loud atmosphere, you watch him carefully as he brings the L-shaped tension wrench up to your vision, "This one goes in low, right at the bottom of the keyhole. It mimics the turning of the key," And right before your very eyes, he gets to work.

His voice is hush, which only exaggerates the huskiness that often underlines his tone, "Apply slight torque. Not too much, or you'll bind the pins. Not too little, or you won't catch 'em. Just the right amount of pressure."

You swallow, however, nodding slowly as you keep your gaze trained.

"This-" He then lifts up the rake, "-goes inside next. Y'wanna slide it in, and push up gently- try to catch each pin one by one."

Holy shit, he's gotta be doing this on purpose, because in no way can someone whisper 'slide it in' like he just did without it sounding fucking sexual.

To his tease, however, he keeps going.

His thumb braces the tension wrench, and his long fingers guide the rake with steady taps. Every movement is purposeful yet tight, and with the focus Tim has set on not fucking up in front of you, his breath has subconsciously changed to match your own soft ones.

"Just like that," He murmurs and you tremble, "last one is always the trickiest..."

The click is so faint compared to the thumping of your heart in your ear that you almost miss it. But, Tim's hand drops the tension wrench as the deadbolt shifts, and the door slightly creaks open by half an inch.

Tim is clearly chuffed at himself, because he says 'attagirl' way too surely that for a split second, you think he may be saying it to you.

"Wow," You blow out, staring intensely at your unlocked door, "Sir, that was-"

"Easy, hey?" He says as he turns his head to look at you.

And, well, you were gonna say hot, but easy works too.

You, ever so slowly, peer over at him too, eyes catching his own in the heat of the silence.

"Yeah," Breathlessly, you flicker your gaze quickly to his lips before looking back at him. Then, you offer him the gentlest of smiles, "Thank you, Sir."

His brain short circuits, and his heart takes it's place.

With a loud thudding beneath his chest, he can't help but wander his pupil-dilated eyes around your face- orbs so fascinating and lips so kissable. It's an intensity Tim Bradford hasn't felt in what feels like forever. Ever since...God, ever since Rachel perhaps.

He doesn't even realise he's been inching closer to the warmth of your mouth. Maybe you don't realise either, at least not until he begins to feel the soft air that escapes you- hot as it tickles his own sensitive lips.

You're so close...so very, dangerously close. But, fuck, you wanna pull him into you, wanna feel him all around you, wanna-

Lucy's footsteps louden from behind.

It seems Tim has the same idea of how unprofessionally close you are because you both quickly whip your heads to the drop of your stomachs just when Lucy reaches you two.

"Sorry! Angela found some new information on her current case, she wants us to take a look at an abandoned house in Ethels Lane." And with a breathless huff, her brown eyes attract themselves to the unlocked door, "Oh, nicely done, Bradford!"

And while there's no mention of it from her, Lucy can't help but get a sense she interrupted something; especially from the close proximity you two are as you stay crouched together, and the overt blush staining both of your cheeks.

Almost as if you guys were caught red-handed.

Tim's not one to get lectured on, considering he's always been the lecturer.

He's a hard-headed training officer, for fuck's sake, it's all he's ever known to do.

But now, however, as they walk back to the shop, he knows it's best to let Lucy give it to him, especially when she slams her door shut just that tad more aggressively.

He barely has time to settle into his seat before she's raising her hand towards the front of her uniform. Her fingers find the button on her body cam, and a faint click confirms her doing- she's muted her mic.

Tim can't even put a word in before Lucy's doing the same to his.

And then...nothing.

The body cam only has a two-minute grace period before it automatically unmutes itself, and Lucy's savouring it.

Tim actually wishes Lucy could speak right now because the shop is awfully quiet, too much that the only noise filling the silence of voices is when Tim ignites the shop and the background noises of Los Angeles surrounding them; a honk in the distance, gravel scraping against someone's shoe, ear-piercing construction work.

"You were about to kiss my sister." Is the first comment she makes since buckling her seatbelt, and for a second Tim sighs because finally, Lucy Chen spoke.

However, she is absolutely not happy about it. Provided in the monotone on her voice and the fact that she's staring straight ahead with a stern brown. Usually, people-watching would be her go-to, but they both know Lucy's mind is somewhere else.

Tim, ever the honest, quickly replies, "No, I wasn't."

"Tim."

Ah, shit.

"Yes, you were."

"Yes, I was."

Lucy jerks her head towards him, "Don't you even dare to try and do that again. That's my baby sister."

Holy shit.

Tim's swallows, guilt riddling his chest as he struggles to maintain Lucy's contact. He doesn't feel guilty for almost kissing you, (You're a grown woman. Please, you can handle yourself.) but he does feel that deep ache because you're Lucy's sister.

And there's nothing worse than disappointing his friend.

Lucy's right, she's so God damn right because what was he thinking? He could do that with any woman and yet, he's chosen to almost kiss his friend's little sister and expect Lucy to be okay with it?

Tim allows himself to feel those emotions for three seconds, maybe even four, before he's masking it behind his stone-cold demeanour.

He grumbles as he pulls the shop out of the curb, "Roger that."

Lucy doesn't say anymore on the topic after that-

One: Because once Lucy's made her mind, she's locked in on it.

Two: The body cam's grace period is gone.

And fuck, did she make it clear that you - little Miss Chen - are officially 'off-limits'.

The bar is the worst place to go when your girlfriend is already in a bad mood.

For starters, it's way too crowded for Tim's liking. Bumping shoulder to shoulder as they make their way through the entrance, and Hell, even finding seats has been an impossible mission. Ultimately, it's adding fuel to both Tim and his girlfriend's fire by increasing their frustrations.

It's also fucking noisy too. Not the music, per se, but the uproar of laughter, chattering, and the clinking of half-drunken glasses on wooden tables and against one another to cheer.

There's also alcohol, which Tim has been using to his advantage as he takes another sip of his whiskey on the rocks- his second one since arriving an hour ago. It's not enough to get him plastered - considering he's gotta drive - but the blows his significant other is sending his way aren't as damaging as they should be.

Ashley throws her hands up in the air, "I mean, seriously, Tim, this is - how many fucking times now? - that you've come home late!" She fishes for her phone, pulling out her 'evidence of suspicions' by the numerous amounts of missed calls from Tim's end. "At least have the decency to call me back if you're being kept on overtime."

She's right to a degree. But, Tim's heart doesn't tug out of empathy like it should have, and he knows it all too well that it's because he doesn't like her enough to care.

Not when his mind is at somewhere else...someone else.

It's been months since he'd last seen you- it seems Lucy's getting better at not forgetting things now that she's become his go-fer. But, still, you're always lingering in the air some way or another; often in the mismatched socks he may see a civilian wear; or white pyjamas shown on a television show; even in the waves on Santa Monica- the ones with an underlying current beneath them, yet, shadowed by the overwhelming sun glitter on it's surface.

He also finds his heartbeat skipping at the mention of your name slipping out of Lucy's mouth every now and then when she talks about you.

Tim doesn't ask about you. He wants to, always wants to, but he constantly holds himself back just as the words brush on the tip of his tongue because it's smarter to not get Lucy confused as to why her sergeant is asking about her little sister, especially now that you're a no-go-zone.

The most recent information he's gotten out of Lucy about you, however, is that your 'poor baby' car broke down on the middle of the freeway and you're now relying on Luce, Ubers and public transportation to get you around as you wait for your car to get repaired.

The moment Lucy had groaned about it as they took a criminal through the arrest procedure, Tim was so close to offering that he 'could be your taxi-man'. But, the only thing that held him back out of all the reasons why he shouldn't say that was because Lucy would've killed him-

And not because he has a girlfriend.

...Ah, Ashley McGrady.

You becoming off-limits meant Tim Bradford was not only desperate, but angrily and sexually desperate too. Him and his palm had gotten quite familiar with each other, and honestly at his age? Tim didn't think he still had it in him.

But hey, he's a yearning man after all, and you were affecting him like no other woman has.

So, a month after he helped you lock pick your door, he found Ashley. And she was just the right person, and just the right distraction for what he needed- as much as that sounds selfish and mean.

At first, it seemed like a good idea...dating her, that is. The sex is good- great even, but, she isn't you.

(Which is crazy to admit, considering you two have only ever touched when trading coffee cups and eye-fucked like horny teenagers.)

Tim can't help it, any running thought that pops up in the process of giving and receiving pleasure is of you.

You, instead of her.

He's careful, not being stupid enough to moan your name out as he spills white ropes of cum inside Ashley despite imagining the hair he's holding as he burrows himself from behind as yours, and the noises that she makes can somehow...almost form into your voice- if he tries hard enough.

It's sickening, it's filthy, but in the heat of the moment, it feels so fucking right for him.

Tim finds that the seconds he should've taken to respond back to Ashley - possibly starting off by apologising and explaining that 'crime doesn't have a curfew' - he, instead, downs the remaining of the brown liquor too swiftly.

He gives her a pointed look, "Another drink?"

Ashley scoffs, "Tim."

He sighs heavily, his name sounding offensive in her mouth like it's spoilt milk, "What do you want me to say, Ash? You've experienced police hours with your dad- everyday is different." Having enough of looking at the disgust written all over her face, he darts his eyes down to the condensation beading around his glass, hot from his touch and the air that circulates between them- sticky, sweaty and angry.

The sound of laughter fills the air where the both of them don't speak. Tim flickers his gaze between his girlfriend and his empty glass, and Ashley just...fucking glares at him.

Finally processing on what to say, Ashley opens her mouth.

"You don't get it, do you?"

And well, did that catch Tim's attention as he brings his head up- brows furrowed, jaw clenched, "...Don't get what?"

She tightens her lips, "We haven't had sex in days, Tim." And with a huff, she throws her hands around until she's pointing towards herself with a shout not nearly as loud as the bar's volume, but enough to shock Tim, "I have needs!"

...Tim wants two whiskeys now. And a shot of tequila.

He doesn't even know where to start. Completely and utterly shocked at the lack of sympathy one can have towards him.

"Days? Jesus Christ, Ashley, I'm trying," He shakes his head, voice surprisingly steady and calm compared to his partner's rage, "I'm fucking exhausted by the time I get home- just spare me a day or two until I have a day off for once."

Ashley's head looks like it's about to explode with how her cheeks are stained red from fury, and the glare she's sending Tim like he personally and purposely ruined her routine of sex.

So, instead of yelling at him, she stands up, taking her shoulder bag with her.

"I'm getting my own drink."

And despite how much Tim can't stand her right now, deep down in his heart, he's still a gentleman.

He scrambles to get out of his seat, "Don't you dare, I'll get it-"

"No, you're pissing me off, Tim." She calls over her shoulder, and God is she fast as she manoeuvres through bodies upon bodies.

No one pays attention, not when it's so fucking loud in here. Tim narrows his brows as he walks after her, "How?! Why? Look, I'm sorry that I'm not home at the times that I am, and when I do I can't...satisfy your needs, but, c'mon Ashley, I'm not gonna quit my job just because you don't like-"

Tim would've continued, he should've, actually, if it hadn't been for the one person he's been dreaming and thinking about for the longest of times catching his attention.

Like tunnel vision, Tim's baby blues find you.

You, who's smiling at someone that isn't him, though it never quite reaches your eyes. You, who wears a black and white checkered short sleeve blouse and a black skirt that should be communicated to HR. You've got one hand casually pouring the most perfect-looking espresso martini, and the other taking the customer's cash and tip.

And he almost misses it, but he's saved by the bar's low lamp above you shining against the hair accessory and straight towards Tim's eyes.

Because gripped securely and snugly through your strands...is a bobby pin.

...Tim feels sick.

(In a good way or not? He isn't too sure yet.)

It all happens at once; his stomach churns lowly and his heartbeat rises to his eardrums, and his cock twitches at the longing sight of you.

It only doubles in intensity when your focus moves away from your previous customer to his.

That's when your smile reaches your eyes.

"Sir! It's been a hot minute!" It has, far too many minutes, days, weeks...months. But, still, you pursue to engage in a conversation with him, picking things up where they were left off.

Suddenly, Ashley isn't all that important anymore as all of the negativity she only just threw at him demolishes to the sweet sound of you calling him 'Sir'.

"It has, hey? How are things?" He asks, propping his elbows against the wooden bar as he stands to his girlfriend's left, despite the sticky, wet residue left on the bench.

You nod, drawing closer to where he stands so you're in front of him, a look so joyful, so true written all over you, "Things are okay! Working hard, but, I can't complain." You tilt your head, and the shine in your eyes that constantly taunts him in his fantasies makes way. "You've cleaned up nicely tonight."

Tim quickly glances down at himself, his brain suddenly forgetting exactly what he wore. It's nothing too exciting; just a navy henley and dark blue jeans. But hey, a compliment is a compliment- and Tim will treasure any words that come out of those pretty lips.

"I...thank you. Anything beats wearing the uniform." He grins.

God, you're trying so fucking hard not to rake your eyes up and down his frame- how unprofessional would that be in the workplace? So, instead, you stick to just letting out a low hum of approval.

You're about to ask what order he'd like, but-

"Can I get a Bloody Mary, please?"

Oh. Right...Ashley.

Your attention wavers off him to the sound of the female voice beside him. At first, you think she's just another impatient, intoxicated customer who looks fucking pissed as she taps her fingers on the wooden bar. But, when your eyes take a short journey around the unfamiliar blonde's body, and your subconscious draws you to the close proximity between her and Tim, your heart drops.

Tim coughs awkwardly, peering over to Ashley before he's back to you, "I- uhm, I believe you haven't met Ashley..." And he's lifting his right hand to place on her lower back, "My girlfriend."

You want to wince at those two words, so badly- even cringe...maybe cry too because...Tim's taken?

You don't, and rather so, offer a welcoming smile.

"Ashley. How very nice to meet you," You don't provide much more than that, except for when you look down to point at your name written on your badge just above the left pocket of your blouse, "I'm sure you've seen my name by now-"

"I have." Ashley's stern on her words, eyeing you up and down to the magic of your hands as you begin to make her drink. And before you can sheepishly and profusely apologise for complimenting her boyfriend in front of her, she's turned her head to rummage through her bag. "How much for the drink?"

Tim sighs, pulling his wallet out from his back pocket, "Ignore her. Can I get a whiskey on the rocks too, please?"

Ashley cuts in, a petty sharpness to her tone, "How. Much?"

You pause the effortless momentum of your pouring as you dart your concern between the two, "Uhh..."

Before Ashley can ask again, especially in a worser tone than what she's already snapped towards you, Tim barges in, "Can I get a whiskey on the rocks as well as the Bloody Mary. Please?"

And Sergeant Bradford really is begging. With baby blues that deprive of their usual confidence, shadowed by a heavy weight- shame, exhaustion, uncertainty. The tension is unbearable between him and Ashley, and not in a good way either.

You couldn't admit it aloud, but fuck, he looks unhappy.

A faux smile is enough to get Tim to exhale in relief when you repeat assuringly, "Bloody Mary and whiskey on the rocks- coming up."

Introducing Ashley to you was a bad decision. A stupid and regrettable one, at that.

Because by the time you serve them their respected drinks with an imitated grin and they make their way back to - surprisingly - the same table they originally were at, Ashley has given Tim an absolute mouthful.

It's 9:00PM. Ashley's been yelling at him for thirty minutes now with lash after lash from her tongue, and it's beginning to grow unbearably thin on Tim's nerves.

The insults towards Tim? Sure, he can deal with it.

But what's hurting the most are the ones directed towards you.

Tim knows you and likes you- unforgettable, kind-hearted Little Miss Chen with mismatched socks and clothes that compliment your personality. You, with a smile so pure and authentic to your character with the same lips that produce the best kind of effortless humour.

And the words Ashley's using to describe you are everything but who you are.

He hates it, knowing he's going against his girlfriend's opinions, but even if Tim Bradford didn't know you the way that he did, he'd still be baffled at the absence of respect from Ashley.

"I mean, seriously, who does she think she is eye-fucking you in front of me?!"

Tim tries his best to hold in his frustrations when he pinches his brows, "Ashley, she was not."

Yes you were, you most certainly were. With that shimmer sparkling your heavy-lidded eyes as you looked up at him. That is, of course, before you realised he'd been taken.

Tim recognised the deflate the very second he mentioned Ashley's name, and the shame of calling her his 'girlfriend' in front of you. Which is weird, considering you and Tim have no correlation of past dating or relationships- just an awfully, torturously slow build up of tension and desire.

Ashley widens her eyes in disbelief, gawking, "Oh my God, no way you're defending that slut-"

"Ashley."

"But she is! She may as well spread her legs open and let you take her on the bar right then and there-"

Tim snaps.

"Enough!" As if he's snapping at one of his rookies. It's not loud, per se, but to think Tim had to be firm to his girlfriend is something he hates.

Still, his frustrations get the best of him as he glares at her, skin hot beneath his henley. "Holy shit, Ashley! She's a person- leave it alone."

You - considerate, funny you - watch the interaction from afar with utter guilt and resentment flushing your body. Tim doesn't even realise you've caught on, not when you pull it off so easily as you continue to wipe down the wooden bar, towel-drying whatever glasses present themselves to you. There's no one attend to, so you take advantage of what you can call a 'mini break' as your attention trains on the two adults amidst their blazing argument.

The bar is still loud, and while Tim and Ashley aren't causing a scene to any intoxicated locals, it's clear as day that if one was to study hard enough, they'd know it's a terrible fight between a couple.

You don't even need sound to hear the echo of their disagreement to know they're talking about you, provided that Ashley every so often points her hand directly towards you, and her huffs of complaint that string along.

You swear you can read her lips well enough to understand that the names she's calling you are...mean.

The moment, thankfully, comes to an end when Ashley takes the end approach for herself; her seat squeaks against the floorboards as she pushes it out, sending Tim a...oh, a 'fuck you' and a death glare your way before she storms out of the building.

...The night has grown quieter. It's a Wednesday, after all.

But, beneath the LA's summer haze, the moon's gravitational pull is changing the ocean's swirl from a low tide to...something bigger, something more disruptive. And it all happens the moment Tim whips his head to the left, and his yearning baby blues immediately find your own.

Because now, he's left alone in the bar. With you.

"You alright, Sir?" Is the first thing you ask just as Tim pulls out a high stool tucked beneath the bar's wooden bench with a hefty sigh. You're not just saying it for the sake of pity; the furrow between your brows and your clenched jaw speak more words than what comes out of your mouth...you're actually concerned. "Looked pretty rough from what I saw."

Tim groans- fuck, he hates that you saw it.

"I will be." He starts, and that's all the emotional vulnerability you'll receive from him, so you decide to leave it at that. "Good thing I drove here...can't imagine how Ashley got home." He ponders for a bit- a taxi? Uber? God forbid he actually texts her and makes sure she's okay.

But...you're here. And Tim would hate to waste his time texting his partner who couldn't respect him when he could be spending it with you.

You chuff, drying the current glass you hold in your hand a second time, "Hey, be lucky you have a car at all."

Tim tilts his head for a second, and before he can ask what you mean by that, his brain sends him the information he already knows.

He raises his brows, "Shit, it's still needing repairs?"

Your glass-drying motion pauses as you look up at him, "How do you know that?"

"Lucy."

"Oh," You say, because of course- she's the only reason why her sergeant is talking to you right now. "Um...yeah, it's been pretty annoying. Unfortunately, my cute little Euro car is causing me big problems. Need some 'alternator' piece from overseas to be shipped or whatever." You sigh, circling your fingers to the glass's rim, "Uber's are so expensive too."

Tim pauses.

He shouldn't, he really shouldn't.

But...

"Let me drive you home tonight then."

The offer comes unexpectedly and it causes you to shake your head with a dismissive laugh, "That's very kind of you, Sir, but I-"

"Please, I insist." He cuts in, gentle and sure, and he even blesses you with a smile that's small yet effective. "What time do you finish?"

You pick up another wet glass, "I finish at..."

Checking the clock to your right, you find that it reads 9:08PM.

"Oh! In twenty-two minutes."

Tim hums, "Then it's a deal."

You're losing this - you know it - but, still, you persist, "But, Sir-"

"Tim."

You halt.

All confidence shrivels as you stare at him with wide eyes, blinking to the erratic thumps of your heart. And suddenly, the bar's warm lights feel like they're dimming, along with the fading of laughter and chatter amongst the room.

Everything quietens, except for the man who looks right back at you, except for Tim.

It appears just the beckoning of his first name sparks something deep inside of you, lower to where your thighs throb - a sense of enticement...intimacy- if you can even say that in a public place.

You breathlessly stutter, "...What?"

But, Tim's immediately onto it as he sends you a grin at your shaken-up posture, "You can call me Tim. I'm your sister's sergeant, not yours."

"I-" You know your cheeks are reddening to every second that passes by, under pressure to Tim's observation on you. "I can't call you by your first name."

"You absolutely can."

"Can not."

"You can...you will." And as if what he just demanded did nothing to the heating of your core, Tim's smile grows smug as he places his elbows onto the wooden bar, naturally leaning closer to you and ah, there's your floral perfume he often thinks about. "Where's that little firecracker gone anyway? I'm surprised you haven't sworn yet."

You give him a pointed look, playfully yet still tainted by the previous events, "I'm working. Gotta be respectful 'n innocent around here."

Like Tim couldn't make the situation any more suggestive, he finds that he's got more tricks up his sleeves than the usual person.

(Good thing Tim's never considered you under 'the usual', anyway.)

Respectful and innocent.

"Well," Tim shrugs, eyes piercing yours, "Not for long."

And the words hang in the warm air, along with his woody musk after-shave, because you both know he doesn't just mean your shift.

You peer over at the clock.

9:13PM.

"No," You hum, and turn back to him, knowingly-

"Guess not."

You find there's no use fighting whatever angels are trying to persuade you to the good side - the right side. The ones demanding that the car ride was already a bad idea, and inviting Tim into your apartment will be an even worser one.

The drive was quiet, of course- but it was a silence you both could tolerate without feeling like you were being intoxicated in anxiety. Sure, your heart pounded and Tim's knuckles kept whitening around the steering wheel, clenched tight with whatever thoughts filled is brain, but saying nothing was kept at best. The safer option.

Tim's truck was spacious, it smelled clean and was clearly well looked after- a pleasant aroma of fresh leather and Tim's lingering scent from tonight's choice of after-shave.

It didn't surprise you that he was an excellent driver, but damn, was he a sexy one too. With one arm flexing as he gripped the steering wheel, the other glided and circled smoothly around the gear sticks. And while you tried your very best to just fucking focus on what laid ahead of you, your buzzing thoughts were spiralling - revving with every filthy imagery already messing with your head.

And still, even through telling yourself that it's a terrible idea, when you both reached your apartment's door, you looked up at him so invitingly, so needy, and whispered:

"Come in."

Not even a question was deserved in the space- your selfishness couldn't dare to give him that option.

Tim was hesitant at first, clearly his own conscience was battling with him too. But, nonetheless, he agreed.

Now, through the hour that you've sat down with him on your cream couch with a glass of wine in hand, you find that Tim Bradford is an easy conversationalist.

He knows just the right questions to ask you, and the answers he provides are relatable and understanding, all the while he makes himself comfy. You try not to notice, you really do, but it's hard when he's sprawled out on the opposite end of the couch.

His lap is oh so inviting. And with one arm slung casually over the backrest behind you, his long fingers are close - close enough to touch you if you leaned back just a little bit.

What makes the situation even more suffocating is that the conversation has taken a turn- a whole 180° if you must say. Because asking about each other's work lives, passions and drives has morphed into...Tim's relationship troubles.

He didn't mean to bear his problems onto you, God, he wants to speak nothing about himself and everything of you. But, you're just so easy to talk to. And whenever he speaks, you're watching him with such gentle eyes and how your mouth moves as you reassure him feels like you're casting him under your spell. Your hair (loose, but the bobby pin is still there, pinched on some strands above one ear) gets tucked every so often by you behind your ears Tim wishes he could be doing it instead.

The luring of your oblivious actions feels like a haze, a dream, like the meditating white noise of waves crashing against warm sand and more.

Tim's only just getting to the good part of his problems...the sexual ones.

"-and I just don't understand what she wants from me, y'know? I don't know about all that kinky stuff." He's deadly serious when he makes his statement, but when he casts his focus away from the window's picturesque of a perfect Summer's night due to the obnoxious lack of noise from you, he finds you staring back at him with a shit-eating grin.

His grumbled "What?" only breaks your concentration when you burst out in laughter.

"Fuck- sorry!" You try to squeak out in between heavy breaths, though your smile never falters as you try to cover your mouth with the palm of your hand.

"Jesus Christ, you and Lucy are exactly the same." He rolls his eyes before taking another sip of the wine you offered him (He wouldn't say he's a big wine-drinker, but you insisted he have a try and, well, he now can't prove you right but how nice it is to his tastebuds.).

"Oh my God- I'm so sorry," You manage to say after a moment when your breath finally catches up to you. "So she uh- she said she wanted you to tie her up? And you...froze?"

He clenches his hand around his half-empty glass, jaw tightening, "I'm a grown man. I should be able to please my girlfriend."

Let’s be real here. As much as you're having fun listening to Tim struggle to even know that bondage is a serious kink that women like Ashley enjoy, you can't deny the pang of jealousy brewing in your gut covered by your delightful laughter. It's frustrating, knowing a woman like Ashley McGrady has the pleasure of handling a man like Tim Bradford, someone who's adaptability and versatility could make him looked good tying someone up.

Or even better, look good tied up.

Strikingly, an idea hits you just as another splash of wine glides down the back of your throat, and your eyes widen.

It's a bad idea, a terrible one too, and yet, when you pull the glass away from your lips, your lips curve into a smirk.

"How about this-" You start, placing your empty glass onto the glass coffee bench in front of you both. Tim’s gaze never leaves your body as you then stand up, "Follow me."

Tim, ever the confused, knits his brows before he mirrors your motions; placing his also empty glass on the table beside yours and rises from the couch to walk behind you.

And while he shouldn’t, he doesn’t regret noticing your black skirt has hitched, only just kindly covering up your ass.

So focused on the sight in front of him, Tim's baby blues blink rapidly when he looks up, realising that- oh, you've brought him to your bedroom. 

You've manoeuvred yourself to the chest of drawers located on the opposite side of the room, rummaging through it for something Tim doesn't know of yet, so, he takes the moment to ground himself to his surroundings.

Your room pretty much describes your whole personality. Not too messy but not neat either- comfy, he could say. Sure, some clothes hang over a neglected chair in the corner, and your makeup has taken it’s dominance across your desk, but it's not like you expected your sister's sergeant to enter your bedroom anyway.

It smells like you too. God damn, every corner of this room smells just like you.

Tim's attention drives away from the jewellery laying on your bed side table on his right when he hears your "Aha!" as you pull out your required necessities.

And when you turn around to show Tim, he swallows nervously.

Two scarves.

"How about I show you how to tie someone up in bed, Sir?"

Tim can only assume you're trying to kill him. That is, of course, before Lucy could kill the both of you herself if she fucking had any idea. But, written in the encouraging smile you show him and the way your eyes squint to his thunderous heart, you are buzzed.

You quickly raise a hand, "Don’t worry! We're not gonna have sex or anything. 'm just showing you how it's done, okay?" You add, and you give him a reasonable second or two to actually wrap his head around the idea.

Tim's never been good at saying no to you, especially not when you've got that sweet smile on your face.

"Okay." He agrees with a breathy exhale, and you grin even wider.

The direction Tim receives on your end is clear when you flick your gaze between him and your bed that presents itself beside the bed-side table, multiple times.

Get on the bed.

He sits himself upright in the middle of the bed, and the mattress beneath his very skin is overwhelmingly soft, plush- and dare he say smells of you also. Not your perfume, but rather the aroma he’s gotten familiar to what you resemble. 

It's hot - unbearably hot - despite the air-con working just fine. But, the heat doesn't come from your house, it's coming from you two, and Tim can feel this new profound feeling intoxicating the air and his very veins.

And no amount of Police Penal Codes could get Tim's semi-hard to stay calm.

His breath grows heavier as you drag your eyes over his body before you take a few steps towards him. 

The first thing Tim notices is how you’re struggling to maintain eye contact. Then, your own erratic inhales and exhales. Even as you pick his left arm up until his wrist is inline with your white metal headboard, with how close you are to him he can so easily tell that this - whatever the fuck is going on right now - is having the same amount of effect on you as it is him.

Of course it is, your sister's sergeant is in your bed, wrists bound beneath your hands, how couldn't it make your pulse pound in your ears? 

His arms are wide with biceps flexing beneath your stare as you tie his wrists to the banister of your bed. Your fingers are gentle as they loop the silk scarves, careful and steady to restrict Tim enough without overt pain.

"Too tight?" You ask, your whisper loud against the tension that seeps between you two.

Tim gives his wrists a little jerk against the bondage, "Not at all," He murmurs, suffocating at the strain in his pains, "It's perfect."

A beat skips your heart.

He's praising you.

You hum, satisfied at your work and his words before you finally lean away from Tim's personal space.

You flatten the hem of your blouse as your eyes begin to scan his body.

His face is tinted red, and his lips are parted- speechless, breathless.

"If it's your first time, you might start to feel a bit claustrophobic due to the exposure of vulnerability…" You move down from his face to the heaving of his chest through his dark henley and his big arms swell to your attention. "…But, once you remind yourself you're in a safe space with someone you trust, you should start to feel-" 

You freeze.

Because when you reach Tim's lower half, you find it's hard to miss the bulge in his jeans staring right back at you.

Your pulse quickens and the throbbing in your core only worsens with each second that passes.

"Sir-"

"Don’t." He winces, "Just ignore it. It's nothing."

But it isn't nothing, and you both know it. Even as Tim meets your widened stare with a hunger he's never known you could show, Tim knows it's everything.

You stay still for what feels like ages- clearly the cogs working overtime in your brain to just think. It's a play against morals here, right versus wrong, and your conscience is stressing your mind to do anything but.

Lucy comes to thought even before Ashley. In fact, who the fuck cares about Ashley?

Tim's getting more heated under your gaze, his cock twitching for anticipation and his heart reaching a dangerous patter within his ribcages.

...And then, he feels the shift in the air.

A king tide creeps upon you both, and the ocean just seems way too inviting, too warm, too good to not get a taste. Testing the waters won't do too much damage, right?

You tilt your head.

"Can I help?"

Tim grits his teeth- his resistance is wearing thin.

"We both know you shouldn't."

"Oh, I'm aware, Sir." You nervously chuckle, eyes flickering around Tim's hardened bulge, to the pleading in his baby blues, and his wrists- so nicely restricted.

Tim inhales, shaking his head, "Lucy will never forgive me if she finds out we-"

"Lucy isn't here right now." You take a step closer, a certainty overpowering the nerves in your voice. Then, you graciously sit right beside him and exhale, "What she doesn't know, won't hurt her, Tim."

He falters.

You called him Tim.

"I-" He opens his mouth to speak, but any words he could have said - should have said - never pass.

So, he shuts himself up, and you smile. Then, with the gentleness of your right hand, you trail your fingers up from his trembling chest to the blush on his cheeks, cupping one side of his face so you can get a real good look at him.

You lean closer, his breath heavy against your own.

"You can have me tonight, Sir- just this once."

His stubble tickles your palm as Tim lets out an exhale, lids fluttering to the warmth of your hand and your familiar voice. It all feels so good; your touch, your bed, your breath, and you're saying all the right words regardless of if you're being honest or feeding into this forbidden illusion.

Good thing Tim Bradford knows you too well to even assume the latter.

Tim doesn't respond verbally, finding that his need to fight whatever control he should have around you is lacking.

Because rather than stopping in that instant, he, instead, gives his consent with his lips when they touch yours.

He kisses you with every ache of his heart and swell in his cock, providing you with an intensity that makes you gasp into the kiss. And while his lips are soft and tender, they're experienced too- so every now and then, his tongue will graze against your own, and he'll be unsurprised but filled with pride when it makes you sigh.

He's hungry, you're quick to analyse. Because every time his mouth glides with yours, it's becoming more heated. More rough. More needy. But, you can't pull away, God no, he feels too good and tastes so fucking nice to move from it.

You do, however, need to fix both his and your problem soon...now.

So, with your free hand, you begin to trace your digits ever so slowly to where Tim needs you the most.

You dance around the outline, your index teasing the shape of his cock through the fabric. Tim's groans into the kiss, followed by a small buck of his hips to meet the featherlight touch of your hand.

You don't tease for long. Clearly, the months that have boiled between you two were enough of - what you may call - 'edging'.

You retreat your hand from Tim's blazed face to assist with the other, all fingers taking their role as you blindly undo his jeans' button, and the zip that tends to come after. And, yet, you're still kissing him generously, and he's breathless. It's like you're a fucking siren stealing his air with the magic of your lips.

The headboard rattles with each pull of his bound wrists.

"Please," Tim rasps out, strain in his eyes as he looks down at you, "Don't tease me."

You know Sergeant Tim Bradford too well that with his class and authority, he doesn't do much pleading, nor begging either. And while him yearning may be the hottest thing he's ever said and done to you (yet), you grant his wishes and decide to not leave it any longer.

One hand tugs his boxers down just enough that you can freely take his stiff cock with the other.

Fuck, you don't even need to look at it to know he's big.

Finally pulling away from the kiss, you send Tim a heavy-eyed look before you lower yourself down onto the bed, licking your lips until you're situated between his thighs and staring at his throbbing cock your hand wraps itself around. Then, you take the first lick, your tongue darting out to trace the vein beneath, starting from the base to the head of him.

Tim moans, his own hands balling into fists as you then take the head into your mouth.

"Oh, fuck."

Your mouth, pleasant and gentle, vibrates against his cock when you let out a hum, and you begin to take more of him. You glide his pulsating cock deeper along the bed of your tongue as your saliva wets the surroundings and shit, this feels like heaven.

You open your eyes, searching for Tim's face in the midst of your tongue exploring every vein and space on his cock.

Only to find that Tim's staring right back at you.

So, without missing a second of eye contact, you take him even further until you can feel his tip pressing against the back of your throat. And you watch with pride when Tim groans, wrists fighting against the restraints as he throws his head back. You take it a step further when you begin to suck him, the motion of bobbing up and down on him, and you watch with fucking delight as that breaks him.

"Oh my god, baby-" He first rasps out breathily, Adam's apple bobbing to your vision before he drops his head down, eyes closed and lips parted in pure bliss, "So fucking good, holy shit."

There's something about Tim calling you 'baby' that has your core leaking more arousal than normal, and enticing you even more to move faster.

His stream of filth only worsens over time as you continue to suck him, regardless of the hair that gets in your way or the spit that rolls down the length of his cock every time you take him in. He's already leaking generously from the amount of worked-up tension he's endured during tonight...the last few weeks...months, fuck, it's all coming to the now and my, does his pre-come coat your mouth.

You decide to pull his length out just enough until it's only his tip left in the heat of your mouth, and that's where you give your whole-hearted attention. Swirling your tongue around the head and licking his frenulum earns you another gravelled moan from Tim, another "That's it, baby" from his panting lips. One hand twists around the neglected length to the rhythm that your head moves atop, while your other hand snakes it's way beneath his henley, taking it's own route to scout his stone-hard chest.

Tim wouldn't have been surprised if you could feel the pounding of his heart, either.

Your touch is tender, and he can't help but shiver beneath your nails when you rake them down, down until they're below his belly button- and you do it again.

Then, you pull a specific move on him.

You direct the motion of his cock to hit the top of your mouth; your palate, and in doing so, you twist your head so your tongue can dance itself around him.

He goes as you expected: Fucking feral.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" He curses out, mouth drawn open as he shakes to the arousal coursing through his veins. And God damn does he hate these restraints because all he wants to do is grip your head with his large hands and fuck himself into you.

"Doing so good f'me, aren't you?" To which you look up, and your batted eyelashes tell him more than enough that you're enjoying this, you really are.

To suck your sister's sergeant while he's tied up in your bed? Please, who could top that?

So, it doesn't take too long after that you then start to hear the change in Tim's breath- once stable and steady now imbalanced and heavy. Low grunts and groan escaping his throat as you continue to drag him closer to his orgasm him with the power of your lips and hands.

That is, until-

"Wait, sweetheart- stop."

...You halt.

Immediately, you stop your actions, mouth lifting off his wet warmth as you lift your head up to his blown-wide ones- not a blue spark to be seen.

A deep rumbling forms in your gut.

Anxiety- you know it too well. You can already picture it, him shaking his head as he says that this was all a big mistake, and that he can't betray Lucy like this.

You're too young, too sweet, too-

"Did I do something wrong?" It comes out rather heartbreaking than concerned, your voice pitched with dread when you pull away from his lower half, kneeling up so your levelled to him.

Tim must sense it too, because he quickly widens his eyes, "No! God no, doll, you did nothing wrong," Reassuringly, he curves the edges of his lips between each exhales he puffs out, "You were amazing- are amazing, and I really want you to keep going..."

...But...

"But, I want to fuck you when I cum."

...Oh.

"Oh," You whisper out, as well.

And, once again, heat runs quickly down to where your core throbs, and you find that any dirty fantasy you've ever had of your sister's sergeant doesn't live up to the reality of this at all.

Tim chuckles, low and gravelly, and his cock twitches when you let go- only to inhale sharply as you begin to crawl your way over to his lap, both legs finding comfort on either side of his hips as your clothed pussy sits... ah, directly on top of his teased cock.

You're soft, and warm, and Tim's might start going crazy if he doesn't get his hands on you right now.

"Can you please take these scarves off?" He asks, "Wanna touch you so badly. 'm dying over here."

At the mention of the restraints, you dart your sight quickly at the way he's still flexing his fists and back to his pleading eyes.

You giggle, planting a kiss to his lips, "Of course. Did you like them?"

Tim leans lower, mouth moving to press kisses into your neck as you begin to free him, "They were great." He adds one onto your jaw, "But, I can't not touch you either-" Another ones goes to your chin before he looks up at you, "-would be awfully rude, hey?"

You peer down, heart thumping against the close proximity with a hush, "So, very rude, Sir."

Tim groans- how many times have you gotten him hard by calling him that?

In the fleeting moment that Tim feels the loosening of the scarves on his wrists has him immediately drawing himself away from them, and like predator to prey, Tim takes the dominance from now.

You gasp at the sudden embrace when Tim pulls you in for another clashing kiss- a kiss that's overpowered by hunger infiltrating his large hands where one grips the back of your neck. The other, in question, cups your ass, and whatever black fabric was still barely covering it has been shied away by the touch of his fingers.

His grip is firm but not painful, and you like it.

His lips are brutal too, biting your bottom lip every so often just to make his heart swirl at your vocal responses.

With his fingers tangling themselves onto the root of your hair, the other hand on your ass guides your body to gently rock against his cock. Your underwear only creates more friction between your aching clit and him, so every glide has the both of you moaning into each other's mouths.

"Fuck," You whimper against him, hips stuttering as you grind in rhythm to another thrust from him, "Sir-"

"Feels good, huh?" He retreats his face, only to peck your jawline and his arms manoeuvre until he's reached the front of you. Then, he begins to blindly unbutton your blouse, "Want you so bad, baby."

You continue to rub yourself on him, knowing too well that you've created a fucking mess in your wet underwear. "You have me," And your palms plant themselves on his shoulders as you create more space in your neck for him to attack, "You have all of me, Sir."

He does, and that's what's so fucking wrong.

Because while you should've known better, he should've known better than you that he's gonna hurt your feelings.

Because of your age, because of Lucy, Hell, because he's got a girlfriend he's yet to leave.

Tim doesn't let it get to him in the heat of the moment- he won't let his conscience to ruin what you've given him. So, he allows the thoughts to marble within your heavy breathing and the sweat on your neck until they fade to nothing once he reaches the release of the last button.

Beneath lays a black, laced bra- simple, but effective. Tim peels your blouse from your arms and when bra follows too, he doesn't hesitate.

He quickly leans in, capturing one nipple into the heat of his mouth in which his lips suck around it. You let your mouth fall agape, eyes fluttering in bliss as your nipples harden both from the arousal seeping around your body and the cool air it's exposed to. Even so when he keeps your other breast occupied with the large palm of his hand, circling and pinching until you're writhing.

"Tim," You huff. Ah, there's his name on your tongue. "Please, I want you to fuck me."

"I know, sweet girl," He murmurs against your bud, switching sides as he presses a kiss to the next nipple. "But I gotta get you ready, though."

A breathy laugh escapes your throat as you clasp your fingers around his head, bringing him even closer to your breasts, "I've been ready since you lock-picked my door. I think we've passed foreplay."

Tim lifts off your nipple, wide eyes immediately reaching for yours.

"Since then?"

You tilt your head, a grin edging your lips, "'f course. I literally was about to risk kissing you in front of my sister."

Tim gives himself a second for his brain to playback the memory that constantly runs within his dreams.

The heated tension. Heavy breaths. Tight proximity. So close but so fucking far.

"Yeah," He mumbles, a ghost of a smile wearing on him as he trails his fingers down from your breasts to then hoist your skirt up until it's scrunched around your waist. "That's right."

"Exactly, so..." You look down at his digits that are just reaching your ruined underwear, "Fuck me. Right now."

Tim chuckles, looking up with lidded-eyes as his index finger hooks to swipe the fabric to the outside of your outer labia, "You are in no position to be in charge here, baby."

You squirm, his intrusion foreign but welcoming, nonetheless. "I had you tied up...ten minutes ago."

"You're right. But-" He glides his finger through the wet of your folds, "I don't think you're complaining about me taking the lead..." He cocks his head to the side, "...Are you?"

Your breath hitches, tightening your pelvic so he has more space to move his fingers as he explores from your clit to the leaking of your hole, "No, Sir."

"Good." Tim hums, pushing his finger further until he's at your entrance, "Gonna stretch you out first, baby, okay?"

He doesn't need your response, not like you're fit to even speak anyway when he inserts his first finger inside you.

Tim's hands are fucking delicious and one is already feeling rather filling, pumping inside your wet walls slowly but deeply, and it has you acting out. Your hands hold onto his shoulders for well-needed support while your mouth spills whatever comes out of it; moans, gasps, whispers of incoherence stuffing your bedroom.

And despite totally not have the position of authority here (Please, a sergeant is fingering you, what power do you have?), still, your eyes challenge Tim's as you continue to look back at him, despite the flicker in your lashes begging you to just close them. But the way Tim's staring at you with dark eyes like you're unreal, like you're his obsession? Yeah, how could you miss that?

"You're somethin' else, sweetheart," He murmurs, taking his middle finger to join in on the mess, "God damn, just look at you- all wet and ruined, haven't even fucked you yet."

The mention of him burying his cock deep inside you has you dragging out a moan, just in time for his two fingers to starting thrusting into you. And, hey, if you think well enough, his fingers might just do the job replacing his cock.

You do think about it, because as Tim continues to finger you...you begin to move yourself up and down on them.

"Holy-" The sentence is uncompleted by your breath hitching in approval, and your greed overrides whatever self-control was leftover within you as you begin to bounce it.

"That's it, baby," He coaxes, low and rough, burying his fingers knuckle-deep into you, "Use my fingers."

The motion is too good, way too good that you know you'll be dreaming about this the moment this night shared selfishly between you and Tim ends and you're laying in bed helpless and exhausted. Especially when you're unable to sleep by the twists and turns on your pillow and blankets, and your fingers are the only thing able to tire you out.

Oh, you most certainly will be thinking about fucking yourself on Tim's fingers.

Tim didn't know he could get harder than what he is right now. It's painful, actually, wishing nothing than to pound into your wet warmth but...Jesus, this is nice to watch. Your neediness taking him even more as you let your hips do all the work, and God, if you're fucked-out just by the length of his two fingers, well, Tim can't wait until he replaces them with his cock.

When Tim doesn't let his fingers down from your entrance, you continue to take from him. And, finally, you shut your eyes- not because you can't handle Tim's eyes devouring you, no. But because you might actually cum from this.

It's a truth you're surprised to even accept, considering he hasn't even fingered you for long. But, with his pace fastening and your longing need to be fingered by Sergeant Bradford for ages being satisfied right now, your excitement is helping you to reach your orgasm- quickly.

"Oh my God, Sir-" You squeak out amongst the heaving of your breath, half-open gaze locking onto his dilated pupils as your hips continue to meet his fingers, "Fuck- 'm close."

It's music to Tim's ears, and his cock twitches, "That so, hey?"

You nod rapidly, "Please, please keep going."

Tim smirks. Like he'd ever be mean enough to take your pleasure away from you.

But he does help you get there when his thumb lightly touches your clit. Circles he isn't so sure he's making due to the ruthlessness of both of your motions, but he does graze it every time your pussy meets his knuckles.

"Oh," You let out and your toes curl, "O-Oh, shit."

"That better for you, doll?" Tim already knows the answer, smirk growing more smug at the sight of your concentrated face, eyes squinting that bit more at the new sensation added to your other ones.

Still, you answer, "Mhm, don't stop- please don't stop, Sir."

Your pleads don't go to deaf ears, and Tim leans in to kiss your collarbone, murmuring against your skin, "I won't."

He takes his promise seriously; kissing your chest and neck while he fucks his fingers into you and rubs your clit. And soon enough, he hears the loud hitch in your breath as you arch yourself into him and grasp onto his hair, fisting your hands through whatever strands beckon to you.

Tim wishes he could've seen it- how your face would've scrunched up as your mouth would hang open, letting out moan after moan. But fuck, feeling you shaking and clenching around his fingers is just as good too.

He lets you ride the remainder of your orgasm, tremors lessening in intensity and your breath simmering to something...tolerable, but still underlined with a need for more. Tim reluctantly pulls his fingers out of your warmth, ignoring whatever cramps ache in his fingertips and focusing more on you.

You, whose cheeks are flushed pink, and lips panting heavily, catching onto whatever oxygen is left floating around you two. You, with eyes only just starting to wake up to meet his own.

You're glowing from sweat and sex, and Tim can't help himself but to capture your mouth into another kiss. It's slow this time- reassuring, reminding you that he's here, that you're alright.

And just like the good girl you are, you reciprocate.

He never knew one's kisses could taste so sweet, whether that be the wine still lingering or just you in general, but it's enough to get Tim drunk on you. And while sensualness and contentment are easy to feel in this moment while Tim's hands graze down to your waist and yours are moving to cup his face, remorse is hard to wither away too.

In fact, it's getting stronger by the minute. An intense feeling of guilt tip-toes five steps behind from you two the longer you leave it hanging.

Still, despite everything going against him, Tim pushes it all to the side when he guides you to rock against his hardness again, and with your pussy now bare on him, it's so much better than last time. You like it too, sensing it by the small moans you exhale with each breath, your arousal wetting his length from base to tip.

The kiss is growing heated. More teeth clashing. More saliva. More tongue. More heat.

"Tim," You puncture him out of his thoughts, his name blissful against both of your heavy breaths, "Tim."

"Mmm?" He hums, pecking the corner of your lips as he squeezes your ass.

You don't waste a second to tell him what you want, and exactly what he wanted to hear.

"I want you."

Tim growls. He ruts yourself onto his cock again, "Jesus- anything for you, baby." And for a split second, his embrace leave yours. That is, of course, to match your lack of clothing as he pulls his henley off.

Your eyes rake his body, bare and naked- the one usually hidden beneath the uniform. And sure, you could feel how rock-hard he was as you sucked him. But to see the tone of his chest in front of you?

"Sir," Is your pleased response to his bare chest's reception, and Tim chuckles.

And in the spare moment of silence, you two help each other remove the remaining of whatever clothes are left on. Then, he gives you one last kiss to your agape lips before brushing his fingertips lower and lower until he reaches the curves of your ass. With a shuffle for comfort, Tim wraps his hands around his cock, and you're hovering just enough to allow the tip to tease your entrance.

Your next few heartbeats quicken as you look down at Tim-

-Only to find he's looking back at you. Hungry, needy, breathless.

You allow gravity to do it's work when you lower yourself until the head is inside you.

The first initial contact is electrifying.

It feels better than any messed up dream you've ever had of your sister's sergeant.

...And you feel fucking full already.

Holy shit.

"Oh my god." You choke out.

Tim immediately clocks onto the strain of your voice, a wave of concern, "You okay, pretty girl?"

"You're-" You furrow your brows, pushing through the stretch as you sink yourself more, trying to accept every thickness of him. "-massive. I'm...fuck, it's too much."

Your forehead meets Tim's shoulder- it's all too overwhelming; the room feels just that bit stuffier, and Tim's hands are hot against your ass, your breath isn't catching right and he's too. Fucking. Big.

"Oh." ...Does he take that as a compliment? "Okay, okay. Let me help, baby."

You're nearly there, only a couple more inches until you're at the bottom, but, Tim takes the lead from there.

Once he bends his knees to gain support, Tim firms his hands beneath your glutes as he holds you against gravity's push. Then, he's ever so gently and slowly lifting his hips, his cock moving up into you through each exhale Tim hears you shakily let out on his skin. And while your nails dig into his sides, and he's surprised by the occasional bite from your teeth into your skin, it all morphs from pain to pleasure.

It only takes a few more other breaths until you're finally buried deep into him. There, he allows some time for you to adjust to his size inside your wet, welcoming warmth.

God, you feel so good. But, Tim can be patient, and he will be just for you.

Though, the second that you lift your head off his shoulder and sigh out a "You can move." Well, Tim's never been happier.

His first thrust is careful and deliberate - a slow grind of his hips as he meets inside of you again - but, it still has your lashes fluttering and your mouth parting into a gasp.

Tim can't help but think about how mesmerising you are right now; the sounds you're making like a siren's calling, the glide of your warm fingers gripping his shoulders, your hair loose around your face with strands that fall forward.

Tim doesn't stop himself, because as he thrusts in again, he's lifting one hand to reach out and tuck your hair behind your ears.

"You're so pretty," Tim murmurs, moving his hips again to push his cock inside you again, "so fucking beautiful."

You stutter. Not just from how Tim's cock is hitting your walls at a perfect angle at a teasingly slow pace, but also because...he called you pretty?

The compliment hits you hard, blush raising to your cheeks and God it's getting hard to think when he keeps fucking himself up into you, "You can't..." You moan as he drives his thick length inside you, "that's not fair. You can't say that while you're fucking me."

"Sure I can," He responds, a glint to his baby blues as he begins to fasten his thrusts, "You think I'm lying?"

You shake your head with a swallow, "No, Sir." And your exhale comes out rather erratic when you feel his cock coming into you quicker than before, and the beat of your heart is following his pace. "Just...you're gonna make it harder to leave after this."

There it is. The truth.

Lucy. Ashley. Everything.

Tim's hips falter at your words.

He's trying- he really is, trying to avoid the painful truth of this all. Because as much as you two won't want to stop this, Lucy Chen will never forgive him or you for this once it's been told. It's no use fighting it either, lying to Lucy about fucking her little sister is something that can't be swept beneath shallow waters. Tim Bradford would never forgive himself if he had to work with Lucy everyday with guilt overriding his thoughts because he selfishly couldn't admit his wrongdoings.

"Yeah," But despite the sigh that comes out, he continues his thrusts, "I'm sorry, baby."

You don't plan on stopping either, instead, offering him a comforting smile and a kind kiss to his lips, "Don't apologise, we'll figure it out later. For now though..." You look down, overtly studying how his length moves in and out of you with attentive measures, "I want us to fuck. Hard."

And any thoughts of 'figuring it out later' are thrown ashore.

Because fucking you hard sounds a lot better than emotional conversations.

So, Tim takes that for his cue to quicken his pace, pounding in and out of you to the point that both of your mouths fall open.

"Shit," You shakily breathe out, nails scratching his shoulders as you listen to the squelching of your juices with every thrust, leaking down his length. Then, because your greed is far predominant that anything else, your hips move just once to meet with his cock as it drives into you.

You both moan.

"Fuck, baby," Tim curses out, feeling you swallow him whole, "Keep going."

With his orders, you obey and do it again, and he allows you to change the rhythm so you're both moving at the same time.

The room is getting filthier- the loud slapping of skin on skin, the bed creaking with an intense warning of snapping, and the heavy breaths that heat your bedroom.

But, amongst all the noise, Tim still hears your quiet whimper of his name from your pretty lips.

He groans, even your name is enough to get him fucking aroused.

"Fuck, pretty girl, ride me," He encourages you with the tilt of your ass, squeezing with excitement, "You can take it."

You nod, bracing yourself more as you allow your hands to feel supported by the strength of his broad shoulders. You give it your all, bouncing and grinding down on him with eagerness and hunger, and every time you bury yourself with his cock, your clit drags against his base for friction.

"Oh my god," You moan, shutting your eyes with how good it feels, how full you are.

"Doing so well, sweetheart." He whispers out, gripping your ass tighter as his hips roll up into you, "Fuckin' Hell, just look at you."

You open yours eyes and smile to his praise, despite your thighs burning and your hair all messed up with your bobby pin lost somewhere in it. But you can't stop now, won't stop. Not when Tim's eyes are staring into you with blow-out pupils and shining with intimacy, and not when the stretch is making your toe curls and the spot his cock hits inside you feels so amazing.

And he's helping you too, God, he's helping you out as you ride him. He's moved one hand to your lower back while one has gone to your hips, keeping the rhythm alive and in beat to your breaths and his thrusts so you get the most of it all- the depth, the stretch.

Then, you feel it.

The pressure brews within you, swirling with a feverish it's hard to miss when every bounce on his cock.

"Sir," You exhale sharply, "Sir, I'm close."

"Good." He answers with another roll of his hips, feeling his own orgasm reaching, "Good, baby. Me too."

It's too much, way too much. You throw your head back as you close our eyes again, your climax building dangerously with every second that passes that you concentrate on it.

Tim stutters when his baby blues can't find yours, only the exposure of your throat. So, with a soft embrace, his palm grounds itself to the frame of your jaw.

"Please," His voice is gravelly and raw and your eyes immediately flutter open and your attention moves to look back down at his, "Look at me when you come."

You widen your gaze, vision blurring and blown wide. Then, you quickly nod, "I will. I will. 'm so close."

"I know, baby," And he leans forward to kiss your swollen lips, "You can do it."

That's when you feel the shake in your thighs and the tremble in your body. With the pressure tightening, you hold tightly onto Tim's shoulders.

Then, it all snaps.

With a broken sob, you feel wave upon wave of your orgasm, and the way your pussy clenches around Tim's cock and your eyes that roll to the back of your head - struggling to maintain eye contact - has his own climax encouraging to follow.

"Fuck, fuck," He grunts, pulsing inside you with his own spill as he chases his own crash before he's burying you to the hilt with a final thrust.

...You both collapse.

Catching breath after breath has never felt so hard- drowning in sweat and ecstasy and fucking guilt. But, you place a bandaid over your emotions when your body yearns for his embrace.

You rest your forehead against Tim's sweaty shoulder, and he mirrors your actions too, hands reaching around your waist. Both of you trace splashes of aimless patterns on each other's backs, lengthening time you know you'll never get back.

But, it's comforting, soothing, and it's quiet.

He's still inside you.

You're still on top of him.

There's no use talking. Not right now, at least.

Your heart is still hammering, though not from the intense level of intimacy you and Tim just displayed to each other.

You know this is different because it's about the inconclusive depths of the ocean- the fear of the unknown. What happens from now on is something you aren't too sure you're ready to even explore.

But, for what you do know, Tim's body is nice to hold and his aroma still lingers within yours. His chest rises and falls between your own like a gentle swell of the tide, steady and deep.

And the both of you find that if you stay still enough, if you hold your breaths enough, maybe the world can stop in this moment too.

You downshifted with a vicious grin, the engine roaring back to life as you slingshotted out of the tunnel’s mouth and into the open night. The Pacific stretched dark and endless to your right, waves crashing against the cliffs below. One wrong twitch and you’d join them. Perfect. The finish line was a flickering set of headlights two miles out, guarded by a crowd of shadows and cash. Underground racing didn’t do checkered flags. It did blood money, broken bones, and reputations carved in burnt rubber.

You were the Ghost. Undefeated. The woman who turned junkyard dreams into monsters that ate supercars for breakfast. Owner of the hidden garage buried under an old shipyard, where the real magic happened. Twin-turbo swaps in the middle of the night, custom ECUs that laughed at factory limits, nitro systems that could make a Prius feel like a demon. The underground scene whispered your name like a curse and a prayer. You modded for kings and crushed them on the same night.

Tonight’s race was supposed to be easy money. Some rich kid with more ego than skill. But the Lambo was no toy. It was fighting dirty, and you loved it. You flicked the nitrous. The world punched forward. Your Supra lunged like it wanted to tear the road in half. The Lambo’s driver panicked, overcorrected, and you slipped past on the inside, kissing his bumper with just enough love to send him spinning toward the guardrail.

Metal screamed. Glass shattered. Cheers erupted from the distant crowd. You crossed the line doing 210, engine howling victory as you slammed the brakes and drifted to a smoky stop. Heart hammering. Blood singing. That was the high no drug could touch.

The crowd surged, warehouse rats, tunnel runners, shady bookies with wads of cash thick enough to choke on. Abandoned highways like this one, old industrial tunnels, flickering warehouse meets where bets started at five figures and ended in broken jaws. This was your kingdom. No sponsors. No rules. Just speed, money, and survival.

You killed the engine and stepped out, black racing suit hugging every curve, hair wild from the helmet you tossed onto the hood. The Ghost didn’t pose for cameras. She collected.

“Pay up,” you called, voice cutting through the chaos. A nervous kid with a duffel bag approached, eyes wide. You took the cash without counting, trust was earned by fear, not receipts.

But the night wasn’t done with you. Three cars rolled up slow from the opposite end of the lot, engines purring like predators who’d already eaten. A matte-black Nissan GT-R, a slammed Porsche 911 with custom widebody aggression, and a wickedly low Mitsubishi Evo that looked like it was built for war. They stopped in a perfect line, headlights pinning you like spotlights on a stage.

The doors opened. First out was the one with the sharp gaze and quiet command, Jungwon. Lean, calculated, the kind of guy who mapped every race three moves ahead. Dark hair, sharper jawline, black jacket slung over his shoulders like he owned the wind itself. Strategic leader. The brain who turned their trio into something unstoppable.

Next, Sunoo. Pretty in a way that could disarm you right before he ruined your life. A sly little smile playing on his lips, golden hair catching the distant lights, moving like he was dancing even when standing still. The pretty-boy driver who could charm a cop out of a ticket or slide through traffic like smoke.

And then Riki, tall, feral, all sharp edges and barely contained chaos. The speed demon. the one who looked like he’d race the devil and win on principle, his dark eyes were locked on you with pure, hungry delight.

The crowd quieted. Everyone knew these three, they didn’t just race, they hunted, no public faces, no socials, just ghosts in their own right, fast cars, dirty money, and a reputation for winning at any cost. They’d cleared half the circuit in the last six months. Now they were here.

Jungwon stepped forward first, hands in his pockets, calm as still water. “Ghost,” he said, voice smooth but edged. “Heard you don’t lose.”

You leaned back against your Supra, arms crossed, cocky smirk already in place. “Heard right. You three here to watch or waste my time?”

Sunoo chuckled, low and sweet, circling your car with appreciative eyes. “Pretty thing like you, running alone? Dangerous. Someone might steal your crown.”

“Try it,” you shot back, eyes gleaming. “I bite harder than I look.”

Riki grinned wide, all teeth, already bouncing on his heels like the engine in his Evo was revving inside his chest. “I like her. Let’s race. Right now. Winner takes the loser’s ride.”

The crowd murmured. High stakes. These boys didn’t play small. Jungwon tilted his head, studying you like a chessboard. “Three against one’s not fair. But you don’t seem like the type who needs fair. Tunnel run. Full circuit. Abandoned stretch past the old docks. First to the warehouse district wins. Loser owes the winner… whatever they want.”

Your pulse kicked up again, that delicious pressure building. Cocky energy rolled off you in waves. “Whatever I want?” You pushed off the car, stepping right into their space, close enough to smell engine oil and adrenaline. “Careful, pretty boys. I might take all three of your cars and leave you walking.”

Sunoo’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Bold. I like bold. But we don’t lose either, Ghost.”

Riki cracked his knuckles. “She talks big. Let’s see if she drives bigger.”

You laughed, sharp and genuine, the sound cutting through the night. “Get in your cars, boys. I’ll give you a head start. Wouldn’t want you crying about a slow warm-up.”

Jungwon’s lips curved, just a fraction. Respect mixed with challenge. “No head start. We race clean.”

Engines fired up around you. The GT-R’s twin turbos spooled with menace. The Porsche’s flat-six screamed. Riki’s Evo growled like a caged animal ready to break free. You slid back into your Supra, fingers wrapping around the wheel like an old lover. The hidden garage waited back home, your sanctuary of half-built beasts and secrets. But right now? This was the real church. Rubber on road. Heart in throat.

The flag dropped. Tires exploded smoke. Four cars launched into the darkness, the night swallowing them whole. Your Supra surged forward, glued to the asphalt, chasing the taillights ahead like prey that didn’t know it was already dead. Jungwon was smart, positioning early, blocking lines. Sunoo was slippery, using every gap like he was born in them. Riki? Pure chaos, diving into corners that should’ve ended him, laughing through the radio static that crackled between racers. You were the Ghost. And ghosts didn’t just win. They haunted. The tunnel loomed again, black mouth open wide. You downshifted, grinning like a devil. “Try to keep up, boys.”

The real race had just begun. Riki’s Evo launched beside you, feral and vicious, its aggressive stance clawing at the asphalt as he tried to muscle you into the wall on the first straight. Jungwon and Sunoo hung back, watching, but this opening heat was yours and the speed demon’s, raw, brutal, no mercy.

You didn’t give him an inch. The abandoned coastal highway twisted ahead like a black serpent, salt wind whipping through the open windows, carrying the metallic tang of burnt rubber and ocean spray. You shifted with surgical brutality, the gear lever slamming home as the Supra surged, pinning you back into the seat. Your thighs clenched around the vibrating bucket, anticipation bubbling in your belly from the thrill of racing three of the most notorious racers.

Riki was good, fucking terrifyingly good. He dove into the first sweeping curve like a predator waiting for this opportunity, apexing so tight his tires screamed in protest, trying to slingshot ahead. But you were the Ghost. You knew every crack in this forsaken road, every deceptive camber, every place where the asphalt buckled just enough to punish the reckless.

You feinted left, forcing him to commit, then cut inside with merciless precision. Your Supra kissed the inside line, suspension compressing hard enough to make your tits bounce against the harness. Riki’s Evo fought for traction, rear stepping out for half a second, enough. You blasted past in a blur of smoke and taillight fury, leaving him choking on your exhaust.

“Eat it, pretty boy,” you growled under your breath, a wicked grin splitting your face.

The tunnel swallowed you both. Darkness absolute, broken only by the strobe of emergency lights and the hellfire glow of your instruments. You flicked the nitrous again, and the car lunged, a violent surge of acceleration that made your heartbeat flutter against your skin from pure adrenaline and mechanical concentration. 200. 215. The Supra felt alive, like it wanted to fuck the road raw and leave it dripping.

Riki tried everything. He rammed your bumper once, twice, desperate and snarling. Metal kissed metal in sparks that lit the tunnel like fireworks. You laughed, loud, sharp, cocky, then braked late into the next chicane, forcing him to swerve wide or die kissing the concrete barrier. He chose life. Barely.

You smoked him by four full car lengths at the warehouse district marker.

You drifted to a smoky, arrogant stop in the middle of the cracked lot, engine ticking hot as it cooled. Stepping out, your racing suit clung to your sweat-slick skin, zipper pulled just low enough to tease the swell of your breasts. Your hair was a wild mess, cheeks flushed, lips parted as you caught your breath. The Ghost, victorious again.

Riki’s Evo screeched in seconds later, slamming to a halt beside you. He killed the engine and exploded out of the car like a storm breaking. He was fuming with rage and something far darker.

Towering, lean-muscled, sweat making his dark hair stick to his forehead, black tank stretched tight over a chest that rose and fell with barely leashed violence. His eyes, sharp, predatory, burning, locked onto you like he wanted to devour you alive. Jungwon and Sunoo hung back, watching with dark amusement.

Riki stalked forward, boots crunching gravel, until he had you backed against the warm hood of your Supra. His hands slammed down on either side of you, caging you in, close enough that you could smell engine grease, clean sweat, and raw, furious lust rolling off him in waves.

“Fucking bitch,” he hissed, voice low and gravel-rough, lips inches from yours. His gaze dragged down your body like a physical touch, slow, filthy, devouring the way your nipples had hardened against the thin fabric of your suit, the flush creeping down your neck, the way your thighs pressed together just slightly. “You think you can humiliate me like that and just walk away?”

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you tilted your chin up, cocky smirk dripping with venom and invitation. Your hands came up, not to push him away, but to fist the front of his tank, yanking him even closer until your bodies were flush, heat against heat, fury against fury.

“Humiliate?” you purred, voice husky, lips brushing his with every word. “Baby, I destroyed you. Left you choking on my smoke like a desperate little slut. And you loved every second of it, didn’t you? I can see how hard you are right now.”

Riki’s breath hitched, a dangerous growl rumbling in his chest. One of his hands slid down to grip your hip hard enough to bruise, fingers digging in with bruising possession as he pressed his very obvious, very thick erection against your thigh. The friction sent a bolt of pure filthy heat straight to your core. You were soaked, and the way he ground against you made it worse. Better.

His face hovered so close you could taste his anger. Dark eyes bored into yours, eye-fucking you with such raw intensity it felt like he was already buried balls-deep inside you, splitting you open on that cock you could feel throbbing against your leg.

“You’re so fucking cocky,” he breathed, lips ghosting over yours, not quite kissing, just teasing the promise of violence and filthy sex. “Walking around like you own the night. Like no one could bend you over this hood and fuck that attitude right out of you.”

Your pulse hammered. Your cunt clenched around nothing, aching, dripping. You rolled your hips once, deliberately, dragging yourself along the hard line of his dick and watching his jaw clench so tight it looked painful.

“Try it,” you whispered, lips brushing his, breath mingling hot and wet. “I dare you, Riki. Pin me down. Fuck me stupid. See if you can make the Ghost scream for you.”

The almost-kiss was torture, lips barely touching, breaths ragged, both of you trembling with the effort not to close that last millimeter. Furious. Horny beyond reason. The air between you crackled, thick with the promise of hate-fucking so raw it would leave marks for days.

Riki’s fingers tightened on your hip, the other hand sliding up to grip your jaw, thumb pressing hard against your lower lip, parting it like he owned it. “You’re going to regret this,” he snarled softly, eyes black with lust.

You smiled against his thumb, slow and filthy. “Make me.” The night pulsed around you, engines still ticking, crowd watching from a distance, but all that mattered was the brutal, delicious tension threatening to snap and consume you both.

The air between you crackled like live wire in the salt-laced night air, thick enough to choke on. Riki’s body pressed against yours with bruising insistence, his cock a hard, insistent ridge grinding against your thigh, his breath hot and ragged against your mouth, thumb still claiming your lower lip like a brand. For one suspended heartbeat, the filthy promise hung there: the hood of your Supra, your legs spread wide, his hips slamming into you until the only sound louder than your screams was the wet slap of skin and the roar of distant engines.

But you were the Ghost.

With a slow, predatory smile curling your lips, you planted both palms flat against the hard plane of his chest and shoved. The push was deliberate, powerful, born from core strength honed by years of wrestling modified beasts and throwing your weight into every reckless maneuver. Riki staggered back a step, surprise flashing across those sharp, feral features before it melted into something darker, pure, seething hunger laced with frustration.

“Enough foreplay,” you murmured, voice low and velvet-rough, dripping with mockery and invitation. “You want me? Earn it properly next time, pretty boy. I don’t fuck losers who can’t even keep up on the straight.”

You turned away from him with languid arrogance, the zipper of your racing suit still teasingly low, the fabric clinging to the curve of your spine and the generous swell of your ass. The cool night wind kissed your heated skin as you bent slightly to retrieve your helmet from where it rested on the hood. The movement was unhurried, deliberate, arching your back just enough to let the dim warehouse lights paint sinful shadows across your body, knowing full well his eyes were devouring every inch.

The helmet felt cool and familiar in your grip, a talisman of speed and dominance. You tucked it under one arm, running a hand through your tousled hair, letting the strands fall messily around your flushed face. Your thighs still trembled faintly from the adrenaline and the aching emptiness he’d left between them, your cunt slick and throbbing, panties ruined beneath the thin racing suit, but you didn’t falter. Not for a second.

The crowd parted instinctively as you began to walk away, boots crunching over gravel and shattered glass with measured, confident strides. Every step radiated unchallenged power: hips swaying with natural, dangerous grace, shoulders back, chin lifted in quiet supremacy. The distant crash of waves against the cliffs below mingled with the low murmur of engines cooling and the hushed whispers of onlookers who had just witnessed the speed demon get thoroughly humbled, and then denied.

Behind you, Riki remained rooted in place, chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. You could feel the weight of his stare like a physical caress, dark, scorching, heavy with barely-leashed violence and raw, animalistic lust. It dragged down the length of your body, lingering on the sway of your ass, the way the suit hugged the dip of your waist, the glistening sheen of sweat along your collarbone. His jaw was locked tight, lips parted, breath still coming in short, furious bursts. The bulge in his pants hadn’t subsided; if anything, your rejection had only made him harder, more viciously aroused. He looked like a man who wanted to chase you down, slam you against the nearest wall, and fuck you until your voice broke and your legs gave out. Like he wanted to ruin you and be ruined in return. The fury in his eyes promised retribution, filthy, prolonged, and exquisitely cruel.

You didn’t glance back. Not once. Instead, you tossed a final cocky line over your shoulder, voice carrying clear and taunting through the night. “Keep staring like that and you might just cum in your pants before you even get another shot at me, Riki.”

A low, dangerous chuckle rumbled from his chest, half growl, half laugh, but he didn’t move. Not yet. Jungwon and Sunoo watched from beside their cars, expressions a mix of amusement and sharpened interest, but they stayed silent, letting the moment simmer.

You reached your Supra’s driver side, sliding in with fluid grace. The engine purred to life beneath you once more, a deep, throaty vibration that resonated straight through your still-sensitive core. As you pulled away from the lot in a controlled, smoky drift, the rearview mirror caught one last glimpse: Riki standing exactly where you’d left him, eyes locked on your taillights with the kind of dark, obsessive intensity that promised this was far from over.

The night swallowed you, but the heat of his gaze lingered on your skin like a brand, filthy, promising, and dangerously addictive. The taillights of your Supra faded into the black throat of the night, leaving behind nothing but the low rumble of distant waves and the faint scent of burnt rubber hanging in the air like expensive perfume mixed with sin.

Riki stood frozen for a long second, chest still heaving, cock straining painfully against the front of his pants like it had a personal vendetta against the zipper. Then, with a guttural curse, he dragged both hands through his damp hair, tugging hard at the roots as if the sting could ground him. “Fuck,” he growled, the word raw and dripping with frustration. “That fucking tease. She pushes me off like I’m some amateur and just walks away like she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.”

Sunoo leaned against the hood of his Porsche, arms crossed, a sly, amused smirk playing on his pretty lips. His eyes glittered with dark delight as he watched Riki pace like a caged animal. “She does know. Did you see the way she looked at you? Like she wanted you to bend her over right there but decided you hadn’t earned it yet.”

Jungwon stood a few feet away, calm as ever, but his gaze lingered on the empty stretch of road where you’d disappeared. He exhaled slowly, a rare, low chuckle escaping him. “She’s a fucking challenge, beggin for us to break her open,” he said, voice smooth and measured, carrying that quiet authority that made the rest of them listen. “She’s lethal. That body in that suit? The way she moves, like she was built for sin and speed, the way she shoved you… Christ, Riki. You should shoot your shot.”

Riki let out a frustrated laugh, still gripping his hair before dropping his hands. His palms flexed at his sides like he could still feel the heat of your waist under them. “I wanted to fuck her right there on the hood. Pin her down, rip that suit open and bury myself so deep she forgets her own name. She was soaked for it—I could tell. The way her thighs kept pressing together, that little flush on her neck.”

Sunoo’s smirk deepened, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip. “Imagine how tight she is. All that attitude and fire? She’d fight you the whole time, clawing your back, cursing you, then moaning like a whore when you hit that spot just right. Bet she gets loud. Wet. Drips down your balls while you’re pounding her senseless, yeah?”

“God, yeah,” Riki groaned, adjusting himself blatantly, no shame left in him. His eyes were still fixed on the road, dark and obsessive. “I wanted to drop to my knees and taste her right there in front of everyone. See if the Ghost tastes as filthy as she talks. Then flip her around, bend her over that Supra, and fuck her until her legs shake and she’s begging me to fill her up. She acts untouchable, but I bet once you get inside her, she milks you like she never wants you to pull out.”

Jungwon’s expression stayed composed, but the heat in his eyes betrayed him. He tilted his head, watching Riki with calculated interest. “She’d be exquisite. Tight, hot, dripping. Strong thighs locking around your waist, back arching, those perfect tits bouncing while you rail her. She’s got stamina too, racing does that. She wouldn’t tap out easy. You’d have to earn every filthy sound she makes.”

Riki exhaled sharply, a predatory grin finally breaking through the frustration. “Next time I catch her, I’m not letting her walk away. I’ll have her spread open, screaming my name while I ruin that pretty pussy. Make her admit she wants it just as bad.”

Sunoo laughed softly, low and wicked. “We all might want a taste by the end of this. But you saw her first, Riki. Go hunt her down. Just make sure when you finally fuck her, you do it right. Make it dirty. Make it hurt so good she comes back for more.”

The three of them stood in the flickering lot, engines still ticking cool, the air thick with the residue of your presence, arrogant, intoxicating, and dangerously addictive. Riki’s jaw tightened with fresh resolve, the fire in his veins burning hotter than any race. This wasn’t over.

The garage smelled of motor oil, ozone from the welding torch, and the faint metallic bite of coolant. Deep in the bowels of the abandoned shipyard, your hidden sanctuary hummed under flickering industrial lights that cast long, dramatic shadows across half-built chassis and gleaming engine blocks. It was well past 2 a.m., the kind of hour where the underground world felt most alive. You were bent over the exposed engine bay of your Supra, back arched, the zipper of your racing suit pulled down to the valley between your breasts because the night was thick and humid, sweat tracing slick paths down your sternum and between your tits.

Tools clinked in your grease-streaked hands as you tightened a stubborn turbo fitting, muscles flexing under the thin fabric that clung like a second skin. The suit gaped open invitingly, revealing the inner swell of your breasts and the flat, toned plane of your stomach. You didn’t hear him at first, too focused, too deep in the mechanical rhythm that always calmed the storm in your blood.

But Riki had found you.

The heavy roll-up door rattled open with a metallic groan. You straightened slowly, wiping your hands on a rag, turning to face the intruder with that signature cocky tilt to your chin. He stood silhouetted in the doorway like a predator who’d finally run down its prey, tall, wired, dark hair messy from the ride over, eyes burning with hours of pent-up fury and raw, unrelenting lust.

“You really thought you could leave me like that?” His voice was low, dangerous, echoing off the concrete walls as he stalked inside. The door slammed shut behind him, sealing the two of you in. “Walking away with that smug little smirk while my dick was so hard it fucking hurt?”

You tossed the rag aside, leaning back against the Supra’s fender, arms crossing under your chest in a way that deliberately pushed your breasts higher, the zipper slipping another dangerous inch. A slow, taunting smile curved your lips. “Poor baby. Couldn’t handle getting smoked and then denied? Go cry about it somewhere else, Riki. I’m busy.”

He was on you in three strides.

The confrontation ignited like spilled fuel meeting flame. Riki’s hand shot out, fingers tangling brutally in your hair as he yanked your head back, exposing the elegant line of your throat. His mouth crashed against yours in a violent, devouring kiss, teeth clashing, tongues fighting for dominance, no tenderness, only raw hunger. You bit his lower lip hard enough to draw a growl from deep in his chest, then kissed him back just as viciously, hands fisting his shirt and dragging him closer.

“Cocky little bitch,” he snarled against your mouth, biting your lip in retaliation before sucking on it. His free hand shoved the zipper the rest of the way down, exposing your bare skin to the cool garage air. He palmed one breast roughly, thumb flicking over your already-hard nipple, pinching until you gasped into the kiss.

You shoved him back just enough to breathe, eyes blazing. “Then do something about it, speed demon. Or are you only good at talking shit?”

That snapped the last thread of restraint. Riki spun you around and bent you over the hood for a moment, grinding his massive erection against your ass while his hand snaked around to squeeze your throat, not cutting off air completely, but enough to make your pulse thunder under his fingers. “You’re mine tonight,” he growled, lips brushing your ear. “Gonna fuck that attitude right out of this pretty cunt.”

He hauled you upright, kissing you again, filthy, wet, spit-slick, before dragging you toward the Supra’s rear door. The backseat was spacious, leather pristine and waiting. He shoved you inside first, following immediately, the door slamming shut and trapping you both in the intimate, gasoline-scented confines of your own car.

Clothes were torn off in a frenzy. Your suit was peeled down your body like shedding skin, his shirt ripped over his head to reveal a lean, sculpted torso marked with faint scars from past wrecks. You barely had time to admire it before he was on you again, pushing you onto your back across the backseat, one knee forcing your thighs apart.

Riki’s hand returned to your throat, squeezing with perfect pressure as he leaned down and spit directly into your open mouth. “Swallow,” he ordered, voice gravel-rough. You did, eyes locked on his, defiant even as heat flooded your core and your pussy clenched with shameful need.

He grinned, feral and beautiful. “Good girl. My new fuckhole.”

His fingers found you soaked, embarrassingly, shamefully drenched. Two thick digits shoved inside without warning, curling cruelly against that spongy spot that made your back arch off the leather. You moaned, loud and unfiltered, hips bucking into his hand. He finger-fucked you mercilessly, thumb grinding against your swollen clit while his other hand kept your throat pinned.

“Look at you,” he taunted, voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “So fucking wet for the guy you humiliated. This greedy little cunt is dripping all over my fingers.”

You reached up, nails raking down his chest hard enough to leave red trails. “Then fuck me already, you bastard. Or I’ll find someone who can.”

Riki’s eyes flashed with pure animalistic rage and lust. He withdrew his fingers, shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock, long, thick, flushed dark and leaking at the tip. He stroked himself once, twice, then hooked your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half as he lined up and thrust into the hilt in one brutal stroke.

The stretch burned deliciously. You cried out, walls fluttering around the sudden invasion as he bottomed out, balls pressed tight against you. He didn’t give you time to adjust, pulling back and slamming in again, setting a punishing rhythm that rocked the entire car on its suspension.

“Fuck— so tight,” he groaned, hips snapping forward with savage force. The wet, obscene sounds of your pussy taking him filled the confined space. He reached up, yanked the sun visor down, flipping open the mirror so it angled perfectly. “Watch. Watch yourself get ruined, Ghost.”

You turned your head. The sight was obscene: your face flushed, lips swollen, eyes glassy with pleasure; your tits bouncing with every violent thrust; Riki’s powerful body driving into you, muscles flexing, sweat gleaming. His hand returned to your throat, choking you lightly as he fucked you deeper, harder.

“Little bitch,” he panted, punctuating each word with a punishing thrust. “Acting untouchable. Now you’re just my fuckhole. Taking this cock like you were made for it.”

Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure. One hand braced against the roof, the other clawing at his back. He leaned down, biting your neck, sucking marks into your skin while his hips rolled relentlessly. The angle hit everything, deep, brutal, perfect. Your orgasm crashed over you without warning, pussy spasming around him so hard your vision whited out. You screamed his name, thighs shaking.

Riki didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, then flipped you onto your knees, face pressed against the cool leather, ass up. He re-entered you from behind, one hand fisting your hair, yanking your head back so you could still see yourself in the mirror, mascara smudged, lips parted in a constant moan, tits swaying as he railed you.

He spit into your mouth again when you turned your head, making you swallow while he pounded you senseless. “Again. Cum on my cock again, you filthy slut.”

You did, shuddering, gushing around him, the leather beneath you slick with your release. Riki’s pace grew erratic, thrusts losing rhythm as he chased his own end. His grip on your hips turned bruising.

“Gonna fill this pussy up,” he growled. “Mark my new fuckhole.”

With a guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your insides, pulse after pulse until it was too much. When he finally pulled out, a messy creampie leaked from your wrecked hole, dripping in thick white strands onto the black leather seats.

You collapsed, chest heaving, body trembling with aftershocks. Riki leaned over you, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your shoulder before the feral edge returned.

He whispered against your ear, voice dark and possessive, “This isn’t over. Not even close.” The Supra’s windows were fogged. The garage was silent except for your ragged breathing.

Outside, the night waited, full of more races, more tension, more delicious destruction.

The next night found the trio back at their usual haunt, a dimly lit warehouse on the outskirts where the air hung heavy with cigarette smoke, cheap whiskey, and the low thrum of bass from hidden speakers. Riki couldn’t sit still. He paced the concrete floor like a man possessed, energy crackling off him in waves, a fresh bruise on his neck peeking from beneath his collar like a trophy.

“You should’ve seen her,” he said, voice rough with lingering hunger. He ran a hand through his hair, eyes dark and distant, replaying every filthy second. “She was so fucking tempting, so fucking hot.”

Jungwon leaned back against a stack of tires, one eyebrow raised, a slow, intrigued smile tugging at his lips. “Damn. Sounds like the Ghost finally met her match.”

Riki let out a low, satisfied laugh. “Match? Nah. I broke her. She was soaked before I even got inside her. Fought me the whole time but her pussy was gripping me like it never wanted me to leave. I’m telling you, that woman is addictive. Dangerous. Best fuck I’ve ever had.”

Sunoo sat on the hood of his car, legs dangling, pretty face deceptively calm. But beneath the surface, something shifted. He listened to every graphic detail, every filthy recounting, and felt a slow, insidious heat curl low in his stomach. At first it was mere curiosity, the way Riki, usually so feral and quick to move on, couldn’t shut up about her. But the more Riki talked, the more Sunoo found himself studying the mental image: your arched back, the cocky smirk even while getting railed, the way you must’ve taken control even when pinned down.

Interesting, Sunoo thought, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. She’s under his skin. Maybe I need to see what all the hype is about.

From that moment, Sunoo began watching you differently. Whenever your name came up in underground circles, or when your Supra tore through a tunnel run, his eyes narrowed with calculated interest. He catalogued your movements from afar, the confident sway of your hips when you walked away from a win, the precise way your hands worked under a hood, the sharp intelligence behind every taunting word. You weren’t just another racer. You were a puzzle wrapped in sin, and Sunoo had always loved solving things the hard way.

Two nights later, he showed up at your garage unannounced.

The roll-up door was partially open, golden light spilling out into the shipyard darkness. Sunoo killed the engine of his matte Porsche and stepped out, dressed in a loose black shirt unbuttoned just enough to show the sharp line of his collarbones, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms. He moved with that signature graceful slyness, like a fox slipping into a henhouse.

You were inside again, this time crouched beside a workbench, tools spread out like surgical instruments. You were wearing a simple tank top and had thrown on a pair of pants that didn’t mind getting dirty with grease, the fabric clinging to your sweat-damp skin. Sunoo let his gaze linger openly, appreciative, unhurried, drinking in the sight.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice smooth as silk and twice as deceptive. “The infamous Ghost in her natural habitat. Mind if I interrupt your little mechanical worship?”

You straightened, wiping grease from your hands, eyes narrowing with immediate suspicion and a spark of amusement. “Sunoo. To what do I owe the displeasure? Come to beg for racing tips after your boy got his ass handed to him?”

He chuckled softly, stepping deeper into the garage, circling you slowly like he was appraising a prized engine. “Actually, I need some mods. My Porsche has been… misbehaving. Needs a firmer hand. Someone who knows how to make it scream just right.” His eyes dropped deliberately to the exposed curve of your breasts, then back up to your face, the implication dripping like honeyed venom.

You crossed your arms, pushing your chest up further, meeting his gaze with pure cocky defiance. “Flirting already? Riki must’ve run his mouth. What’d he tell you, that I’m an easy conquest now?”

Sunoo stopped in front of you, close enough that you caught the clean scent of his cologne mixed with engine oil. He tilted his head, studying you with those sharp, pretty eyes that seemed to peel back layers. “Oh, he hasn’t shut up about you. Every detail. How tight you are. How you moaned his name while he fucked you stupid in your own backseat. How you took his cum like you were starving for it.” 

He reached out, bold as brass, and lightly traced a finger along the edge of the hem of your tank, not quite touching skin but close enough to make the air between you crackle. “I have to admit… I’m intrigued. You don’t seem like the type to let anyone ruin you. Yet here Riki is, walking around like he conquered the unconquerable. Makes a man wonder what it would take to make you fall apart for him too.”

Your pulse quickened despite yourself. Sunoo’s approach was completely different from Riki’s feral onslaught, this was psychological, teasing, a slow seduction wrapped in mind games. He was peeling you open with words, watching every micro-expression, every shift in your breathing.

“Careful,” you warned, voice low and dangerous, stepping closer until your bodies nearly brushed. “You might bite off more than you can chew, pretty boy.”

Sunoo’s lips curved into a wicked, angelic smile. “I’m counting on it. I like things that fight back. Makes the eventual surrender so much sweeter.” His voice dropped to a velvet murmur. “Tell me, Ghost… when he had you bent over, choking on his cock with your own reflection staring back at you, did you think about the rest of us watching? Wondering how we’d feel stretching this legendary..?” he ghosted his finger tip over the waistband of your pants.

He let the silence stretch, eyes locked on yours, the tension thickening like smoke. Then he pulled back slightly, all business again, though the heat in his gaze remained.

“So. About those mods. I’ll pay whatever you want. Cash. Favors.” His smirk deepened. “Or we could work out a more… creative arrangement. I’m very good at negotiating.”

You felt the pull, that dangerous, addictive magnetism. Sunoo wasn’t rushing in like Riki. He was circling, probing, planting seeds. And damn if it wasn’t working. The garage suddenly felt smaller, hotter, charged with a new kind of filthy promise.

This trio was becoming far more than just competition on the road.  And Sunoo had every intention of getting under your skin, and eventually, deep inside you, to see exactly what made the Ghost unravel.

The garage was quiet, save for the low metallic ticking of cooling engines and the distant murmur of the sea beyond the shipyard. You were alone, dressed down after a long night of work, tiny black athletic shorts that barely covered the curve of your ass, and an oversized, worn-out tee that hung off one shoulder, the thin fabric doing nothing to hide the fact you weren’t wearing a bra. Your nipples pressed against the cotton, sensitive from the cool night air drifting through the half-open roll-up door. Grease streaked your thighs and forearms as you tinkered with a half-finished chassis perched on jack stands in the center of the space, a sleek, bare-boned beast waiting for its soul.

You were bent over the hood when the door rattled open without warning.

Sunoo slipped inside like he belonged there, dressed in a black button-up half-undone and dark pants that hugged his lean frame. His hair fell softly over his forehead, and that angelic, dangerous smile was already curving his lips as he took in the sight of you, bare legs, messy hair, the way the oversized tee rode up to expose the underside of your ass when you straightened.

“Jesus, Ghost,” he drawled, voice silky and amused. “Did I catch you at a bad time? Or is this how you always greet your favorite customer?”

You wiped your hands on the rag, shooting him an irritated glare. “Sunoo. Ever heard of knocking? Or calling? It’s four in the fucking morning. I’m not in the mood for your mind games tonight.”

He ignored the warning, strolling closer with that infuriating grace, eyes dragging slowly over your bare thighs, the hard points of your nipples visible through the thin shirt, the way your shorts clung to your hips. “You look… edible. All soft and rumpled. Makes a man forget why he came here in the first place.”

You rolled your eyes and turned back to the car, deliberately bending deeper over the hood just to test him. “If you’re here for mods, talk price and leave. If you’re here to run your mouth about how Riki can’t stop bragging, save it. I’m busy.”

Sunoo chuckled softly and closed the distance. Instead of touching you, he leaned against the half-finished car right beside you, close enough that his warmth bled into your side. “Busy looking fuckable enough to distract a saint. You always this mouthy when you’re barely dressed?”

The annoyance built slowly, deliciously. He kept talking, teasing, poking, complimenting in the most backhanded, psychological way possible. Every time you snapped at him, he’d smile wider, stepping just a little closer, brushing “accidentally” against your arm, your hip, the side of your breast when you reached for a tool.

An hour passed like that. Banter growing sharper. Tension thickening. Eventually, he had you backed against the hood of the unfinished car, your ass pressed to the cool metal. The garage lights cast a low, golden glow over your skin.

“You’re so fucking stubborn,” he murmured, finally placing his hands on either side of you, caging you without quite touching. “Pretending you don’t feel it. But I see the way your thighs press together every time I mention racing you. Every time I talk about pinning you down like Riki did.”

Your breath hitched despite yourself. Sunoo noticed, of course he did.

He stepped between your legs, hands finally sliding onto your thighs, thumbs stroking maddeningly slow circles along the sensitive inner skin. “Tell me, baby… does your pretty cunt get wet when you race against us? When you know three dangerous men are hunting you on the road?”

You tried to push him away, but there was no real force behind it. He caught your wrists gently, pinning them to the hood above your head with one hand while the other traced higher, slipping under the hem of your shorts.

“Answer me,” he whispered against your ear, lips brushing the shell. “Be honest, or I’ll stop.”

“…Yes,” you finally hissed, cheeks burning. “It makes me wet. Happy?”

Sunoo’s smile turned wickedly sweet. “Good girl.”

The seduction unraveled slowly, torturously. For hours. He stripped you of the tee with reverent fingers, exposing your tits to the cool air, then spent what felt like forever worshipping them, sucking, biting, licking, while his thigh pressed firmly between your legs. You rode his thigh like a desperate slut, grinding your soaked pussy against the hard muscle through your shorts, leaving a dark wet patch on his pants. Every time you got close, he pulled back, laughing softly at your frustrated growl.

“Uh-uh. Not yet. I want you dripping. Begging. Confessing.”

He peeled your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely bare on the hood of the half-finished car. The metal was cold against your overheated skin. Sunoo dropped to his knees, pretty face inches from your glistening cunt, and simply breathed on it. Teased. Edged you with nothing but words and feather-light touches for what felt like eternity.

“Look at this greedy little pussy,” he cooed, voice dripping with pretty degradation. “Soaking for a man who hasn’t even fucked you yet. Riki really wasn’t exaggerating. You’re pathetic for it, aren’t you? The big bad Ghost, reduced to humping my thigh and dripping all over my tongue like a needy whore.”

When he finally gave in, it was devastating.

His tongue, hot, skilled, relentless, devoured you. Long, slow licks followed by vicious sucks on your clit. Two elegant fingers curled deep inside you, stroking that perfect spot while he edged you mercilessly, bringing you right to the brink again and again before pulling away to kiss your trembling thighs and whisper filth.

“Say it again. Tell me how racing us makes this slutty cunt throb.”

“I get so fucking wet,” you gasped, hips bucking against his face, hands fisted in his soft hair. “Every time… every time I see your cars, I get soaked. I hate it. I fucking love it—”

Sunoo moaned against your pussy, the vibration sending you spiraling. “That’s my girl. So honest when you’re desperate.”

He finally let you cum, fingers pumping faster, tongue flicking perfectly over your swollen clit while he looked up at you with those sharp, angelic eyes. The orgasm tore through you like a nitrous blast, violent and shattering. Your back arched off the hood, thighs clamping around his head as you gushed on his tongue and fingers, moaning brokenly, vision whiting out.

He worked you through every pulse, licking up every drop like it was ambrosia, murmuring pretty degradations between licks. “Such a messy little cumslut. Look at you creaming all over my face. So fucking beautiful when you fall apart.”

When the last aftershock faded, he rose to his feet, lips shiny with your release. He kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, then stepped back with a satisfied, almost cruel little smile.

You reached for him, aching for his cock, for more, but he caught your wrist and gently pinned it back down. “Not tonight, Ghost,” he whispered, voice velvet-soft and devastating. “I want you desperate. Next time I come back, you’re going to beg me to fuck you properly.”

He straightened his clothes, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and gave you one last long, appreciative look, naked, trembling, cum-smeared on the hood of your own car in the dead of the night. “Sweet dreams, baby.” Then he was gone, leaving the garage door rattling shut behind him. You stayed there, legs spread, chest heaving, pussy still fluttering and aching for something he deliberately denied you. The pretty bastard. And the worst part? You already knew you’d be waiting for his next visit.

The safehouse they shared, a converted warehouse loft overlooking the old docks, was dark with bits of unfiltered light and the low hum of the city bleeding through the reinforced windows. It was nearly dawn when the lock clicked. Sunoo stepped inside, still carrying the scent of your garage on his skin: motor oil, sex, and the faint sweetness of your release. His lips were still slightly swollen, hair tousled from your fingers, and the taste of you lingered on his tongue like the finest sin.

Jungwon was waiting. The moment Sunoo closed the door, Jungwon moved like a shadow unleashed. He slammed Sunoo back against the concrete wall with surprising force, one hand fisting the front of his half-open shirt, collar gripped tight enough to wrinkle the fabric. Their faces were inches apart. Jungwon’s eyes burned, dark, stormy, barely contained, his usually calm, strategic mask completely shattered.

“Did you fuck her?” Jungwon growled, voice low and dangerous, breath hot against Sunoo’s cheek. His other fist was clenched at his side, knuckles white. “Answer me, Sunoo. Did you fuck Y/N tonight?”

Sunoo didn’t flinch. Instead, a slow, wicked smirk spread across his pretty face, eyes sparkling with satisfaction and mischief. He tilted his head slightly, even while pinned, utterly unbothered by the aggression.

“Oh, I didn’t fuck her,” he purred, voice velvet-soft and dripping with filthy delight. “Not yet. But I made her fall apart so beautifully, Won. Had her spread open on the hood of that half-finished car at 4 a.m., wearing nothing but those tiny shorts and that pathetic little tee. God… Riki wasn’t kidding. She is so fucking fine.”

Sunoo’s tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, savoring the memory.

“Her pussy was dripping before I even touched it properly. Soaking my thigh while she rode it like a desperate little slut, whimpering every time I mentioned racing us. I ate her out for hours, edged that greedy cunt until she was begging, shaking, confessing how wet she gets just thinking about us on the road. Then I finally let her cum on my tongue and fingers. She gushed, Won. Screamed. Looked so fucking perfect when she broke.”

Jungwon’s breathing grew ragged. His eyes flickered wildly, from Sunoo’s swollen lips, to the faint red marks on his neck, down to the unmistakable scent still clinging to him. His grip on Sunoo’s collar tightened, jaw locked so hard it looked painful. A storm of jealousy, lust, and frustration rolled across his sharp features.

Then, bang. Jungwon’s fist slammed into the wall right beside Sunoo’s head, hard enough to crack the surface and send a small shower of dust drifting down. He was panting now, chest heaving, strands of dark hair falling messily into his eyes. The composed leader was gone. In his place was a man unraveling at the seams, burning alive with possessive need.

Sunoo only smirked wider, utterly unfazed. He leaned forward as much as the grip on his collar allowed, lips brushing the shell of Jungwon’s ear, voice dropping into a low, teasing whisper.

“You know, Won… you can have her too,” he murmured, sweet and poisonous. “I know you want her. Badly. No need to be so jealous that Riki and I got to taste her first. She’s addictive, isn’t she? That cocky mouth. That perfect body. The way she fights and then melts when you hit the right spot…”

He let the words hang, watching the way Jungwon’s pupils blew wide, the way his breath hitched.

Sunoo’s hand came up slowly, fingers lightly tracing the tense line of Jungwon’s clenched jaw. “She’d look so good under you. Or between us. Imagine bending her over together… making her admit she belongs to all three of us now.”

Jungwon didn’t pull away. His forehead dropped against Sunoo’s shoulder, breaths mingling in the charged silence. The air between them was thick with violence, envy, and something darker,  shared hunger.

“Next time,” Jungwon finally rasped, voice rough as gravel, “you don’t go alone.”

Sunoo’s soft laugh echoed in the loft, low and victorious. “That’s my man.” The night had already claimed you in pieces. And the trio was only growing more ravenous.

The garage felt too quiet after Sunoo left you wrecked on that hood.

You sat there for a long time afterward, legs still spread, cum-slick thighs trembling, chest heaving as you stared at the ceiling and tried to piece together what the hell was happening to you.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?

Riki had claimed you like a beast, brutal, raw, no mercy. He’d fucked you stupid in your own backseat, choked you, spat in your mouth, turned you into his personal fuckhole while you watched yourself shatter in the mirror. And you’d loved it. The violence. The filth. The way he made your body sing with hate and pleasure so intertwined you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

Then Sunoo. God, Sunoo. That pretty, psychological menace had spent hours edging you into madness with nothing but his voice, his thigh, his wicked tongue and elegant fingers. He’d made you confess how wet racing against them made you, how your pussy throbbed at the mere thought of their cars in your rearview. He’d degraded you so sweetly it felt like worship, then left you dripping and desperate, aching for a cock he deliberately denied you.

And now Jungwon, the calm, strategic one, was clearly unraveling too. You could feel it in the air, in the way the trio watched you during meets. Three dangerous, beautiful men circling you like wolves who’d tasted blood and wanted the whole feast.

Part of you was furious at how easily they were getting under your skin. You were supposed to be the one in control. The one who left them choking on your exhaust and their own lust. Yet here you were, touching the fresh marks on your neck, your thighs still sore, your clit still sensitive, wondering when the leader would finally snap and take his turn.

You hated how much you craved it. You needed it. The thought made you wet again even now, hours later. Three men. Three completely different kinds of ruin. And you, the Ghost, were starting to wonder if you’d finally met your match, not on the road, but in the delicious, filthy chaos they brought into your nights.

Two nights later, Jungwon found you alone at a smaller underground meet near the old industrial tunnels. He approached while you were leaning against your Supra, arms crossed, watching the lesser races with bored detachment. No Riki. No Sunoo. Just him, sharp jaw, darker-than-usual eyes, black jacket slung over his shoulders like armor. He moved with that quiet command that made people instinctively clear a path.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and steady, but you caught the undercurrent of something sharper. “Race me. Tonight. Just you and me. No audience. No backup. Full circuit, the long tunnel route past the cliffs. Winner takes whatever they want from the loser.”

You raised an eyebrow, a cocky smirk tugging at your lips. “Bold. Your boys know you’re sneaking off to play with me alone?”

Jungwon’s gaze darkened. “They don’t need to know everything.”

The challenge hung between you, thick and electric. You accepted. The meeting point was a forgotten stretch of coastal highway at the edge of the cliffs, far from the usual crowds. Moonlight painted the asphalt silver, waves crashing violently below. Only two cars: your Supra and his matte-black GT-R, engines purring like predators sizing each other up.

You stepped out, wearing your racing suit zipped low again, hair loose and wild. Jungwon was already waiting. The moment you closed your door, he moved. No warning. He closed the distance in three strides, one hand gripping the back of your neck, the other sliding possessively around your waist as he yanked you against him. His mouth crashed into yours, deep, demanding, hungry. Not the chaotic violence of Riki or the teasing seduction of Sunoo. This was controlled fire. Jungwon kissed like he was staking a claim, tongue sliding against yours with deliberate dominance, teeth grazing your lip hard enough to sting. You tasted frustration. Jealousy. Weeks of watching his friends touch you before he could.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers fisting his shirt, biting his tongue when he tried to take full control. A low growl rumbled in his chest. When he finally pulled back, just enough to speak, his forehead rested against yours, breath ragged. His hand stayed locked on the back of your neck, thumb stroking your pulse point.

“It’s my turn now,” he whispered against your swollen lips, voice rough and dark. “You’ve had them. Riki fucked you raw in your own car. Sunoo made you cum on his tongue like a desperate little slut. But tonight? You’re mine. All mine. I don’t like sharing what I want, Ghost. And I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you smoke that idiot in the tunnel.”

His grip tightened, possessive, almost bruising. Those sharp eyes bored into yours, burning with barely-leashed intensity. “I’m not them. I’m not going to rush in and ruin you in five minutes. I’m going to take my time breaking you apart. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until the only name you remember is mine. Until this cocky, untouchable Ghost admits she’s dripping for the man who actually knows how to own her.”

You laughed breathlessly, defiant even as heat flooded your core and your thighs clenched. “Big words, Jungwon. Think you can back them up? Or are you just pissed your boys got to taste me first?”

His lips brushed yours again, slower this time, filthy and promising. “Race me. Beat me if you can. But when I win… I’m dragging you somewhere private and fucking you until you can’t walk straight. No sharing. No mercy. Just you, me, and hours of making up for lost time.”

The air between you crackled, thick with tension and raw, mutual hunger. Engines idled. The sea roared below. The night waited. Jungwon stepped back reluctantly, but not before stealing one last bruising kiss, biting your lower lip hard enough to leave a mark.

“Get in your car, baby,” he murmured, eyes black with promise. “Let’s see if the Ghost can handle what happens when the leader finally stops watching from the sidelines.” You slid back into the Supra, heart hammering, already aching with fresh, traitorous need. This wasn’t just a race anymore. It was foreplay. And Jungwon looked ready to win everything.

The race was brutal, beautiful, and completely rigged from the start.

Jungwon drove like a demon with a plan. He pushed you hard through the twisting coastal tunnels, his GT-R a black shadow in your mirrors, kissing your bumper on the straights and forcing aggressive lines through the corners. But at the final chicane before the cliffs, the one that decided everything, he hesitated just a fraction. A perfectly calculated mistake. You sliced through the gap like a blade, your Supra howling victory as you crossed the invisible finish line two car lengths ahead.

You killed the engine and stepped out into the moonlight, chest heaving, a savage, cocky grin splitting your face. The sea wind whipped your hair as you slammed the door and spread your arms wide.

“Looks like the great leader just got smoked,” you called out, voice dripping with arrogance. “What happened, Jungwon? All that big talk and you couldn’t even keep up? Pathetic.”

He climbed out of the GT-R slowly, eyes locked on you with terrifying intensity. On the surface, he was calm. But you could see it, the possessive jealousy simmering beneath that composed mask, boiling hotter with every cocky word out of your mouth. Riki had fucked you first. Sunoo had tasted you second. And now here you were, strutting like you’d conquered him too.

Perfect. He wanted you exactly like this, riding high on victory, mouthy, untouchable. Because when he finally broke you, the fall would be devastating. Before you could taunt him again, Jungwon crossed the distance in a blur. His hand clamped around your wrist like a vice and he yanked you toward his car, ignoring your sharp protest.

“Get in.”

“Jungwon—”

“I said get the fuck in.” He didn’t take you back to the garage. He drove in dark, furious silence to an abandoned underground parking structure deep in the industrial district, a concrete tomb of flickering fluorescent lights and echoing emptiness. The moment the GT-R rolled to a stop in the deepest level, he killed the engine, dragged you out by the waist, and slammed you against the trunk of his car.

His mouth crashed into yours with weeks of pent-up jealousy and hunger. The kiss was punishing, teeth and tongue and pure ownership. He bit your lip hard enough to draw a gasp, then soothed it with his tongue before devouring you again. “You think winning that race means shit?” he growled against your mouth, hands already ripping the zipper of your racing suit down to your navel. “I let you win, baby. I wanted you cocky. I wanted you dripping with that arrogant attitude when I finally ruin you.”

He shoved the suit off your shoulders, letting it pool at your waist, exposing your bare breasts to the cold underground air. His hands were everywhere, mauling your tits, pinching your nipples until you arched into him, then sliding down to shove the rest of the suit off your legs along with your panties in one aggressive motion.

You were naked in seconds. He was still fully dressed.

Jungwon spun you around and bent you over the trunk of his GT-R, your tits pressed against the cool, glossy black paint. He kicked your legs apart, one hand fisting your hair to yank your head back while the other freed his cock, thick, hard, and already leaking.

“You belong to us now,” he snarled, rubbing the fat head of his cock along your soaked slit. “Not just Riki. Not just Sunoo. All three of us. Say it.”

When you only moaned defiantly, he slammed into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch was devastating. You cried out, walls fluttering wildly around his girth as he bottomed out against your cervix. “Fuck— Jungwon—”

“Say it,” he repeated, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in, setting a punishing rhythm that made the car rock beneath you. His hips snapped against your ass with wet, obscene slaps that echoed through the empty garage. “Tell me who this pussy belongs to while I breed it.”

He fucked you like he was punishing you for every second he’d had to wait. Manhandling you with terrifying strength, yanking your hips back to meet every thrust, slapping your ass hard enough to leave marks, fisting your hair so you stayed arched perfectly for him.

“Yours— fuck, it’s yours— all three of you—” you gasped, the words torn from your throat as he railed you senseless.

“That’s right,” he growled, leaning over you, chest pressed to your back, teeth sinking into your shoulder. “My cocky little Ghost. Gonna fill this pussy until you’re leaking my cum on every starting line. Every time you slide into that Supra, you’ll feel me dripping out of you. Breeding you so deep you’ll be carrying my mark for days.”

His pace grew feral. Words poured out of him in a torrent of filthy promises between brutal thrusts. “Gonna pump you so full tonight you’ll be swollen with it. Riki and Sunoo can have their turns later, but right now this cunt is mine to ruin.”

He pulled out suddenly, spun you around, and lifted you onto the trunk like you weighed nothing. Your back hit the cool metal as he hooked your legs over his elbows, folding you in half and driving back inside with a guttural groan. The new angle let him hit impossibly deeper, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every savage stroke.

You came hard the first time, screaming, nails raking down his back through his shirt, pussy gushing around him as your walls milked his cock. Jungwon didn’t stop. He fucked you through it, then kept going, chasing a second orgasm from your overstimulated body while his own release built. “Look at me,” he demanded, one hand wrapping around your throat. His eyes were wild, hair falling into them, sweat glistening on his sharp features. “Tell me again. Who do you belong to?”

“All of you,” you sobbed, voice breaking as another orgasm ripped through you. “Riki— Sunoo— fuck— Jungwon— I belong to all three of you—”

“Good girl.” With a deep, animalistic groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your pussy, pulse after pulse as he ground deep, making sure it took. He stayed inside you, breathing hard, until the last drop was spent. Then he pulled out, watched his cum leak from your wrecked hole for a moment… and flipped you over again. The second round was even rougher.

He fucked you on the trunk until your legs shook uncontrollably, filling you with a second creampie that pushed the first one out in messy white rivulets down your thighs and onto the glossy paint of his car.  By the end, you were a trembling, cock-drunk mess, covered in sweat, cum leaking steadily from your abused pussy, voice hoarse from screaming his name. Jungwon finally pulled you against his chest, still buried deep inside you, pressing soft, possessive kisses along your marked neck while his hand gently stroked your stomach.

“Mine,” he whispered, the word heavy with dark satisfaction. “Ours.” The underground garage was silent except for your ragged breathing and the distant drip of cum onto concrete. And the undefeated Ghost had never felt more thoroughly, beautifully claimed.

The underground parking garage was still echoing with the ghost of your screams when Jungwon finally let you go. He had dressed you himself with surprising gentleness, sliding the racing suit back up your trembling body, zipping it slowly as if sealing his claim. His cum was still leaking down your thighs, soaking into the fabric, a warm, filthy reminder with every small movement. You were wrecked: legs shaky, voice hoarse, throat marked with his bites, hips and ass bruised from his brutal grip. Yet when he pulled you against his chest for one last kiss, it was slower, deeper, almost reverent.

He drove you back to your hidden garage in silence, one hand possessively resting on your thigh the entire way, thumb stroking the fresh marks he’d left. When you arrived, he killed the engine and turned to you, eyes dark and unreadable. “Get some rest, baby,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against your ear. “You’re going to need it.” Then he was gone, leaving you standing in the cool night air, body aching in the most exquisite way.

The next day dragged in a haze of delicious pain.

You woke up in your loft above the garage well past noon, every muscle protesting as you shifted. Your pussy was sore, swollen, tender, still faintly leaking Jungwon’s cum even after a long shower. Bruises bloomed across your hips like fingerprints, bite marks decorated your breasts and inner thighs, and your throat felt raw from how many times you’d screamed for him. Walking hurt. Sitting hurt. Even the brush of soft fabric against your skin sent little sparks of overstimulation through your core.

You felt used. Thoroughly, perfectly ruined. And you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Lying on your bed in nothing but an oversized shirt, you stared at the ceiling, replaying every filthy second. Riki in the backseat. Sunoo teasing you, torturous tongue on the hood. Jungwon’s jealousy in that empty garage, the way he’d folded you in half and pumped you full again and again while making you admit you belonged to all three of them.

Three of them. The thought should’ve pissed you off. You didn’t belong to anyone. Yet your body betrayed you, a fresh wave of heat pooling between your sore thighs at the memory. You were getting addicted. To their different brands of dominance. To the way they looked at you like prey they wanted to devour slowly. To the dangerous thrill of wondering what they’d do to you next.

By late afternoon, your phone started blowing up. Texts from various underground contacts flooded in, race offers, challenges, high-stakes tunnel runs. You declined every single one.

Not tonight. Body’s fucked.

You typed the same message over and over, a little smirk on your lips despite the ache. Some sent concerned replies, others tried to tempt you with bigger purses. You ignored them all. For the first time in years, the Ghost was sitting out. Not because you were scared, but because you were smart. Your body needed recovery if you were going to survive whatever storm the trio was brewing.

You spent the rest of the day in the garage anyway, moving slowly. Cleaning tools. Tuning the Supra with careful, deliberate hands. Every bend, every stretch reminded you of how hard Jungwon had manhandled you. How deep he’d fucked you. How he’d growled about claiming you until you were dripping.

By nightfall, the anticipation had become its own kind of drug. You showered again, letting hot water soothe your sore muscles, then dressed simply, black shorts that hugged your ass and a loose tank top that did nothing to hide the marks on your neck and chest. You left your hair down, wild and messy. No racing suit tonight. You weren’t racing.

You were waiting. Pacing the garage slowly, you felt the nervous-excited energy crackling under your skin. Part of you, the strong part, wanted to greet them with your usual arrogance, to act like last night hadn’t shaken you. Another part, quieter and darker, wondered what it would feel like if all three of them came for you at once. If they stopped playing these separate games and finally shared their new favorite toy.

You touched the bruise on your hip, pressing until it stung. Let them come. The roll-up door was half-open, warm light spilling out into the shipyard darkness like an invitation. Engines rumbled faintly in the distance, or maybe it was just your imagination. Either way, the night felt heavy. Charged. Like the calm before something beautifully filthy broke.

You leaned against your Supra, arms crossed under your chest, a slow, dangerous smile curving your lips despite the lingering soreness between your legs.

The garage smelled like oil, metal, and the faint trace of your own anticipation when the three of them arrived together.

You were leaning against the workbench in the center of the space. The bruises from Jungwon still decorated your skin like dark medals, fingerprints on your hips, bite marks on your inner thighs, faint hickeys along your collarbone. Every shift of your body reminded you how sore you still were, yet the ache only made you wetter.

The roll-up door groaned open. Riki first, towering, Sunoo gliding in behind him with that angelic smile that said, we’re about to ruin you, and Jungwon bringing up the rear like the calm center of a gathering storm. They didn’t speak at first. They simply walked in and surrounded you, three predators locking onto their favorite prey. “Well, well,” you said, voice low and cocky, crossing your arms under your chest so the tank rode higher. “The whole pack decided to show up. Miss me already?”

Riki’s dark eyes dragged over your body like he wanted to eat you alive. “You’ve been dodging races, Y/N. Hiding that pretty, used-up pussy from us?”

Sunoo chuckled softly, stepping close enough that you could smell his cologne. “Smart girl. After what Jungwon did to you the other night… I’d be sore too.”

Jungwon didn’t smile. He simply watched you with those sharp, possessive eyes, the memory of pumping you full still burning between you. You lifted your chin, refusing to shrink under their combined gaze. “If you’re here to drag me out for another round, you’re going to have to do better than that. I’m not your toy to pass around whenever you get hard.”

That’s when Jungwon spoke, voice smooth but edged with command. “We’re not here to pass you around,” he said, stepping forward until he could brush a thumb over the bruise on your jaw. “We’re here to offer you something better. A pact. The four of us, a crew. You keep modding our cars, tuning them into monsters. We race as one unit. You ride with us as our good luck charm. In the garage… and everywhere else.”

Riki grinned, hungry. “We dominate the circuits together. No more solo bullshit. You get protection, money, power. And we get you.”

Sunoo’s fingers traced the hem of your tank top, teasing. “Whenever we want, however we want. But only if you say yes.”

You let the silence stretch, heart hammering, cunt already throbbing at the thought. Three of them. All at once. The idea should’ve terrified you. Instead, it made you feel dangerously alive. “I’m in,” you said finally, voice husky. “But on my terms. If we’re doing this, we do it right, no holding back. I want all of you.”

Riki’s eyes flashed with pure lust. “That’s our girl.” They didn’t waste another second. Jungwon lifted you onto the wide metal workbench like you weighed nothing, the cold surface biting into the backs of your thighs. Tools clattered to the floor as they stripped you bare in seconds, tank top ripped over your head, shorts yanked down your legs. You sat there completely naked under the harsh garage lights, legs spread, pussy glistening with fresh arousal.

“Fuck, look at her,” Riki groaned, palming his massive bulge. “Still leaking from the other night and already dripping for more. Greedy little cumslut.”

Sunoo moved first, stepping between your spread thighs and claiming your mouth in a deep, filthy kiss while his fingers slid through your folds, circling your swollen clit. “Such a pretty pussy. Already soaked just from us walking in. You were waiting for this, weren’t you, baby?”

You moaned into his mouth as two of his elegant fingers pushed inside you, curling perfectly against that sensitive spot. Jungwon appeared at your side, gripping your jaw and turning your head so he could kiss you next, possessive, dominant, tongue fucking your mouth while Sunoo finger-fucked you slow and deep. Riki didn’t wait. He climbed onto the workbench, kneeling beside your head, thick cock already out and heavy in his fist. “Open up, Y/N. Time to taste what you’ve been missing.”

You turned eagerly, lips parting as Riki fed you his cock. He was huge, stretching your mouth wide, the salty taste of him flooding your tongue as he pushed to the back of your throat. You gagged prettily, eyes watering, but sucked him harder, hollowing your cheeks.

“Shit— that’s it,” Riki hissed, fisting your hair. “Look at our little mechanic taking dick like a pro. Gonna turn this sharp mouth into our fucktoy.”

They rotated you between them like that for long, delicious minutes, passing your mouth from one cock to another while fingers and tongues worked your dripping cunt. Sunoo ate you out with obscene skill, pretty face buried between your thighs, moaning against your clit while Jungwon and Riki took turns fucking your throat.

Then the real fun began. Jungwon laid you back fully on the workbench, your head hanging off the edge. Riki stepped up and slid his thick cock back into your mouth, fucking your throat in shallow, controlled thrusts. At the same time, Jungwon gripped your hips, lined up, and slammed into your pussy in one brutal stroke.

You screamed around Riki’s cock, the sound muffled and wet. “Fuck yes,” Jungwon growled, hips snapping forward, pounding you with deep, possessive strokes. “This cunt is ours now. All three of us. Gonna stretch every hole until you can’t remember what it felt like to be empty.”

Sunoo climbed onto the bench beside you, stroking his pretty cock as he watched you get fucked. “Look at her. Taking two cocks at once like she was born for it. Our perfect little cumslut. You love this, don’t you, Y/N? Being used by all of us.”

You could only moan desperately, body rocking between them. The workbench creaked under the force of Jungwon’s thrusts. Riki’s balls slapped against your forehead as he used your throat. Pleasure bordered on overwhelming. They switched positions fluidly, never leaving you empty for long. Riki took your pussy next, feral and rough, folding your legs back as he railed you mercilessly. “This is what you get for making me wait, baby. This tight little hole is gonna be dripping our cum for days.”

Jungwon fed you his cock while Sunoo sucked marks into your tits, pinching your nipples until you whimpered. Then Sunoo slid into your mouth, fucking your face with controlled thrusts while praising you in that sweet, degrading voice. “That’s our good girl. Taking three cocks like a champion. Gonna fill you up until you’re leaking on every tool bench in this garage.” The dirty talk never stopped, vulgar, possessive, addictive.

“Gonna pass this pussy around every night after we win.”

“Turn the undefeated Ghost into our personal breeding whore.”

“Swallow my cock deeper, Y/N. Show us how much you love belonging to all three of us.”

You came hard the first time with Riki’s cock buried in your cunt and Jungwon’s down your throat, body convulsing, squirting around him as they held you through it. They didn’t let you rest. Jungwon pulled you up, him behind you, pounding your pussy with deep, breeding strokes while Sunoo fucked your mouth from the front. Riki stood beside you, feeding you his cock in turns, stroking himself when he wasn’t in your mouth, occasionally spitting on your tits for good measure.

“Say it,” Jungwon demanded, slapping your ass hard. “Tell us who you belong to while we fuck you stupid.”

You pulled off Sunoo’s cock long enough to gasp, voice broken and filthy, “All of you— fuck— I belong to all three of you. Your cumslut. Your holes. Use me—”

Riki groaned and came first, painting your tits and tongue with thick ropes of cum. Sunoo followed, pulling out at the last second to shoot across your pretty, flushed face. Jungwon was last, slamming deep and unloading inside you with a guttural moan, flooding your pussy until it overflowed and dripped down your thighs onto the workbench. You collapsed against the cool metal, covered in sweat and cum, body trembling with aftershocks, pussy clenching around nothing as their release leaked out of you.

The three of them stood around you, breathing hard, eyes dark with satisfaction and fresh hunger. Jungwon leaned down, brushing cum from your lip with his thumb and pushing it back into your mouth. “Welcome to the crew, baby.” Riki smirked. Sunoo pressed a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead, then whispered against your skin, “Our perfect little good luck charm.”

You smiled through the mess, sore, claimed, and more alive than you’d ever been. The pact was sealed. And the night was still young.

The days blurred into a feverish, grease-stained haze of preparation. Your hidden garage had transformed into a war room. The air was thick with the scent of fresh welds, burning rubber from test tires, high-octane fuel, and the constant undercurrent of sweat and barely-contained lust. Three matte-black monsters now occupied the central bays alongside your Supra: Riki’s aggressive Evo, Sunoo’s widebody Porsche, and Jungwon’s GT-R. They looked like weapons forged for war.

You worked like a woman possessed.

From dawn until the early hours, you lived under the cars. Sleeves rolled up, tank top clinging to your sweat-slicked skin, shorts riding high as you bent over engine bays or crawled beneath chassis on a creeper. Sparks flew from your welder as you reinforced roll cages, upgraded turbo manifolds, and installed new ECU tunes that would push these machines well beyond factory limits. You added aggressive anti-lag systems, upgraded intercoolers, stiffer coilovers, and massive brake kits that could stop a bullet train. Custom limited-slip differentials. Bespoke exhausts that howled like demons when unleashed. Riki watched you the most hungrily. He’d hover nearby, shirtless, muscles flexing as he handed you tools, his eyes locked on the way your ass moved while you worked under the Evo.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered one night, voice rough as he crouched beside you. “Seeing you like this, covered in grease, making my car meaner, gets me so fucking hard. You sure we don’t have time for a quick break on the hood?”

You slid out from under the car, face smudged with oil, and smirked up at him. “Focus, speed demon. You want to survive this hell race? Then stop thinking with your dick and help me torque these bolts.” But even as you said it, you let your hand brush deliberately over the growing bulge in his pants. Sunoo was more subtle, but no less dangerous. He’d sit on a nearby workbench, legs swinging, watching every precise movement of your hands with those sharp, pretty eyes. Sometimes he’d read out specs aloud, his voice like velvet, teasing you with double meanings.

“These new injectors are going to make her squirt power when you hit the nitrous,” he’d murmur, lips curved. “Just like you do when I have my tongue buried in that greedy little cunt.”

You’d throw a rag at his head, laughing, but your thighs would press together at the memory. Jungwon was the strategist. He coordinated everything, mapping the race route, studying rival crews, timing practice runs. But even he couldn’t keep his hands off you completely. Late at night, when the others were resting, he’d press you against the tool chest, kissing you slow and deep while his fingers slipped under your shorts to find you soaked.

“You’re the heart of this crew now,” he’d whisper against your lips, possessive as ever. “Our mechanic. Our good luck charm. Our filthy little secret. Don’t wear yourself out too much, baby. We need you strong for what’s coming.” The upcoming race was legendary, and lethal. A no-holds-barred, multi-stage inferno through the abandoned industrial district, old tunnels, and cliffside highways. Twenty of the most ruthless crews in the underground scene. Massive bets. Dirty tactics encouraged. Crashes were expected. Deaths had happened in past years. This wasn’t just racing. It was survival with engines.

So you pushed them harder. During the day, you ran them through brutal practice drills. They practiced reflexes on a makeshift course you’d set up using traffic cones, old tires, and sudden obstacles. You’d stand on the sidelines with a stopwatch and a megaphone, barking orders like a drill sergeant while dressed in nothing but oil-stained shorts and a cropped top.

“Again!” you’d shout as Riki drifted too wide. “You hesitate like that in the tunnels and you’re dead, Riki!”

“Sunoo, tighter apex! Stop showing off and drive like you want to win, not just look pretty!”

“Jungwon, you’re overthinking the line. Trust the car. Trust me.”

At night, the real filth returned. After long hours of wrenching, they’d reward you, and themselves, on the same workbench where they’d first claimed you as a crew. Sometimes it was quick and dirty: Riki bending you over the Supra’s hood while you were still holding a wrench. Sometimes it was slower, all three of them taking turns worshipping and ruining your sore, eager body until you were shaking and covered in their cum.

But the work never stopped. You barely slept. Your hands were raw, your back ached, but the fire in your blood burned hotter than ever. These weren’t just their cars anymore. They were extensions of the four of you, lethal, perfectly tuned weapons built by your hands and fueled by the raw chemistry between all of you.

One particularly long night, close to 3 a.m., you stood back and wiped sweat from your brow as the final mods were completed. All three cars gleamed under the lights, lowered, aggressive, and monstrous. Your Supra sat beside them like the queen of the pack.

The boys gathered around you, exhausted but wired, bodies glistening with sweat. Riki pulled you against his chest, strong arms wrapping around your waist. “You’re a fucking genius, Y/N.”

Sunoo stepped in from the side, pressing a kiss to your grease-streaked neck. “Our perfect little mechanic.”

Jungwon cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. “This race is going to be hell. But with you… we’re going to burn the whole circuit down.”

You smiled, cocky and exhausted and exhilarated all at once, leaning into their combined heat.

“Then let’s make them regret ever thinking they could compete with us,” you said, voice low and dangerous.  The garage fell into a charged silence, broken only by the occasional tick of cooling engines and the distant crash of waves. Tomorrow night, the real war began. But tonight, the four of you stood together, bonded by speed, sin, and something far more addictive than just racing.

The Ghost had finally found her pack. And together, you were going to be fucking legendary.

The night of the big race arrived like a storm breaking over the underground. The industrial district had turned into a pulsing arena of headlights, roaring engines, and thousands in cash changing hands under flickering sodium lamps. Twenty crews. Brutal multi-stage course through abandoned tunnels, elevated highways, and the treacherous cliffside runs. Dirty moves were expected. The crowd was feral, betting heavy, eyes hungry for blood and glory.

Your crew showed up like kings. Four cars in perfect formation, your Supra leading, flanked by Riki’s Evo, Sunoo’s Porsche, and Jungwon’s GT-R. All of them snarling with the mods you’d bled for. You’d tuned them to perfection, and the boys drove like men possessed, trusting every upgrade your hands had built.

The race was hell. They fought tooth and nail, Riki diving into impossible gaps with feral precision, Sunoo slipping through traffic like smoke, Jungwon calling moves over the radio with ice-cold strategy. You held your own at the front, Ghost reborn as part of something bigger, blocking rivals and opening lines for your men. Crashes echoed behind you. Sirens wailed in the distance. One car went over the barrier in the final tunnel run. But you four crossed the finish line together, first, second, third, and fourth in a dominating sweep that left the entire scene stunned into silence for three full seconds before the explosion of cheers and curses.

The win hit like nitrous straight to the veins. Adrenaline surged through all of you, thick and intoxicating. Hearts pounding, bodies buzzing, cocks already hard from the sheer thrill of victory and dominance. The moment the cars rolled to a smoky stop in the victory lot, surrounded by rival crews packing up, bookies paying out, and onlookers still buzzing, the tension snapped.

Riki was on you first. He dragged you out of your Supra and slammed you against the warm hood of his Evo, right there in the open lot where at least thirty people were still milling around within viewing distance. The risk made it filthier. “Fuck, Y/N,” he growled against your neck, yanking the zipper of your racing suit down in one violent tug. “We just owned that entire circuit because of you. Now we’re claiming our prize.”

You barely had time to gasp before Sunoo was in front of you, pretty face flushed with victory, fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you into a deep, messy kiss. Jungwon moved behind you, pressing his hard body against your back, hands sliding inside your open suit to grope your tits roughly.

People were watching. Some turned away. Others stared openly. A few rival racers lingered by their cars, eyes wide at the bold display. The danger only made you wetter. They bent you over the hood of Riki’s Evo without ceremony. Your chest pressed against the warm, glossy metal, ass up, legs spread. Riki stood to the side, stroking his thick cock openly while Sunoo fed you his pretty dick right there under the flickering lights. “Open that cocky mouth, baby,” Sunoo murmured, voice sweet and filthy as he pushed past your lips. “Let them see how good our good luck charm takes dick after a win.”

You moaned around him, sucking eagerly as Jungwon shoved your suit down to your thighs, exposing your bare ass and dripping pussy to the night air. No panties. He’d made sure of that before the race.

“Look at this greedy cunt,” Jungwon growled, loud enough for nearby ears to catch. He rubbed his thick cock along your soaked folds, teasing. “Still sore from the other night and yet dripping like a whore for all three of us in public.”

He thrust in hard, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. The force rocked you forward onto Sunoo’s cock, making you gag prettily. Jungwon set a brutal pace immediately, hips slamming against your ass with wet, obscene sounds that carried in the night air. His hand fisted your hair, keeping your head in place as Sunoo fucked your mouth in perfect rhythm.

Riki watched with dark, hungry eyes, occasionally reaching over to slap your ass or pinch your swinging tits while he stroked himself. “Fuck, she looks so good like this,” Riki groaned. “Bent over my hood, getting railed where everyone can see. Our perfect little team slut. This is what winning feels like.”

Jungwon fucked you like he was still racing, deep, aggressive, possessive. Every thrust pushed you further onto Sunoo’s cock, spit and precum dripping down your chin onto the hood. The risk of getting caught, of rival crews seeing the undefeated Ghost turned into a messy fucktoy for her team, sent you spiraling.

You came hard around Jungwon’s cock, moaning loudly around Sunoo, pussy clenching and gushing down your thighs. They didn’t stop. Sunoo pulled out of your mouth only to let Riki take a turn fucking your throat while Jungwon kept pounding your cunt. They rotated like that, switching between your mouth and pussy, using you right there against the car while distant voices and engine revs reminded you how exposed you were.

“Gonna fill you up again,” Jungwon panted, slamming deep. He came first, flooding your insides with thick, hot ropes. Riki followed, pulling out of your mouth to paint your tongue and tits. Sunoo took Jungwon’s place behind you and fucked you through the mess, adding his own load deep inside until it was leaking out around his cock in creamy rivulets.

By the end, you were a trembling, cum-covered wreck. They quickly zipped you back into your racing suit, but it was useless. Their combined cum was already dripping down your inner thighs, soaking the fabric from the inside. A visible wet patch started forming at the crotch as they helped you into your Supra. Riki smirked, kissing you hard. “Drive careful, baby. Wouldn’t want you making a mess all over your seat.”

Sunoo licked a stray drop of cum from your lip. “Our filthy good luck charm.” Jungwon gripped your jaw one last time, eyes burning. “We’re just getting started. This crew owns the night now.” Engines roared to life around you. You pulled out behind them, legs shaky, pussy still fluttering and leaking their cum steadily down your thighs inside the tight racing suit. The sensation was obscene, warm, sticky, constant, a filthy reminder with every shift of the pedals as you drove off into the night, victorious and utterly claimed. 

—

The roar of the crowd vibrated through the stands as Riki lined up for his solo race, a high-stakes tunnel sprint against some of the scene’s nastiest drivers. You sat wedged between Sunoo and Jungwon in the shadowed upper level, their bodies pressed close on either side of you, hands casually possessive on your thighs. Riki was off from the start. His Evo launched aggressively, but his lines were sloppy. He missed apexes he usually nailed blindfolded. In the final tunnel, he hesitated on a daring inside pass and got boxed out, finishing a humiliating third. The moment he crossed the line, you knew why.

His eyes found you in the crowd immediately, dark, burning, furious at himself. He’d been distracted. Thinking about you bent over his hood after the last win. About your mouth. About how your pussy clenched when you screamed their names. It cost him the race.

Back at the garage, the air was thick with tension the second the door slammed shut. Riki stormed in first, jaw clenched, still in his racing suit. “You,” he growled, pointing at you. “This is your fucking fault, Y/N. Couldn’t stop thinking about that tight little cunt the entire race.” Sunoo smirked, locking the roll-up door. “Then she needs to be punished, doesn’t she?”

Jungwon’s voice was calm but dripping with dark promise. “Strip her.” They didn’t give you time to protest, not that you wanted to. Your clothes were torn off in seconds. They bent you over the wide metal workbench again, wrists cuffed above your head to a hook they’d installed specifically for this. Your ass was presented perfectly, legs spread, pussy already glistening with traitorous arousal. Riki started. He brought his hand down hard on your ass, heavy, stinging spanks that echoed through the garage. Each slap made you jolt, the pain blooming into liquid heat between your thighs.

“Count them, baby,” he snarled, spanking you harder. “This is what happens when you distract me.” By the time he reached twenty, your ass was glowing red and you were dripping down your thighs. Sunoo stepped in next, elegant fingers tracing the heated skin before he slid a thick vibrating dildo deep into your soaked cunt. He turned it on high and held it there while Jungwon wrapped a hand lightly around your throat from the side, squeezing just enough to make your head spin.

“Such a greedy little distraction,” Sunoo cooed sweetly, fucking the toy in and out with cruel precision. “Look at you. Already clenching like a whore. How many times did you cum thinking about us while we were supposed to be focusing?” They rotated.

Jungwon took the toy from Sunoo and fucked you mercilessly with it, his free hand spanking your already bruised ass while Riki choked you lightly, whispering filthy praise and degradation into your ear. “You love this, don’t you? Being our little fucktoy we punish when you misbehave.” The first orgasm hit you fast and brutal. You squirted around the toy, soaking the workbench and your own thighs, crying out sharply.

They didn’t stop. Sunoo switched to a smaller, curved vibrator pressed hard against your clit while Jungwon kept the thick dildo pounding into you. Riki stood in front, feeding you his cock to muffle your screams. They competed openly. “Who can make her scream loudest?” Jungwon challenged, voice rough as he angled the toy to destroy your G-spot.

Sunoo smiled angelically, increasing the vibrations on your clit. “My turn to make our pretty mechanic cry.”

Riki fucked your throat deeper. “Scream for me, Y/N. Let the whole shipyard hear what a messy little cumslut you are.”

Orgasm after orgasm tore through you. They made you squirt again and again, messy, humiliating gushes that left puddles on the floor. Your legs shook violently. Tears streamed down your face from the overwhelming overstimulation, mascara running, lips swollen around whichever cock was using your mouth. By the fourth orgasm, you were sobbing, body convulsing uncontrollably. “Please— fuck— I can’t— too much—”

“You can,” Jungwon growled, spanking you hard while he drove the toy deeper. “You will. This is what you get for making Riki lose.” Riki took his final turn, replacing the toy with his thick cock and railing you from behind while Sunoo held the vibrator mercilessly against your clit. Jungwon choked you lightly, kissing you through the tears as you shattered again, squirting violently around Riki’s cock, screaming loud enough that it echoed off the walls.

Riki came deep inside you with a feral groan, pumping you full. Sunoo followed, painting your tits and face while you trembled. Jungwon finished last, making you ride his cock reverse cowgirl on the workbench, forcing one final, devastating orgasm out of your ruined body while he filled you too. You collapsed forward, covered in sweat, tears, and cum, ass cherry red, pussy swollen and leaking their loads in thick rivulets down your thighs.

Riki crouched beside you, brushing damp hair from your tear-streaked face with surprising tenderness. “Next time I race solo,” he murmured, voice dark but satisfied, “you better be in my fucking passenger seat where you belong.” Sunoo pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. “Our perfect little distraction.” Jungwon smiled against your neck. “Good girl.”

You lay there spent, broken in the most exquisite way, already knowing you’d distract them again. Because this kind of punishment? You were already addicted to it.

The morning after they’d wrecked you with toys and overstimulation, you woke up sore, marked, and pissed in the best possible way. Your ass still burned from the heavy spanking. Your pussy was swollen and tender, thighs covered in faint bruises. But instead of curling up and submitting, the old Ghost re-emerged, cocky, vicious, and out for revenge.

They wanted to play punishment games? Fine. You’d play it better. You started slow. You walked into the garage wearing the tiniest pair of black shorts that barely covered the curve of your ass and a cropped tank top that clung to your tits, no bra. Your hair was messy, lips still slightly swollen from the night before, and the bruises they’d left on your body were proudly on display.

The three of them were already there, working on the cars. The moment they saw you, their eyes darkened with fresh hunger. But you didn’t give them what they wanted. All day long, you teased. First, Riki. He cornered you near his Evo while you were pretending to check the tire pressure, pressing his hard body against your back, thick bulge grinding against your ass.

“You’re still dripping my cum from last night, aren’t you?” he growled, hands gripping your hips. You spun around, pushed him back against the side of the car, and straddled one of his thick thighs. Slowly, deliberately, you rolled your hips, grinding your barely-covered pussy along the hard ridge of his cock through his pants. You made sure to press your tits against his chest, lips brushing his ear. “Mmm… feels like someone’s desperate,” you purred, voice dripping with arrogance. “Too bad you don’t get to fuck me today, baby. Not after the way you three treated me last night.”

You rocked harder, letting your wetness soak through the thin fabric of your shorts onto his thigh, then suddenly pulled away right when his hands tightened and his breathing turned ragged. Riki groaned, head falling back. “Y/N… you fucking tease—” You smirked, cocky and untouchable. “Should’ve thought about that before.”

With Sunoo, you were crueler. He was sitting on the workbench reviewing race data when you sauntered over and climbed straight into his lap, facing him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and started grinding down on his already rock-hard cock, rolling your hips in filthy, slow circles. Sunoo’s hands flew to your waist, breath hitching. “Fuck, baby… just let me slip it in. I’ll be gentle—”

You laughed softly against his mouth, biting his lower lip before pulling back. “Gentle? No chance, pretty boy.” You kept grinding, pressing your soaked core right against the throbbing length of him, letting him feel how wet you were through both your clothes. Every time his hips started bucking up desperately, you slowed down or stopped completely, edging him mercilessly while whispering in his ear. Sunoo’s usually sweet, teasing expression twisted into pure tortured lust. His fingers dug into your ass hard enough to bruise, but you only smiled and climbed off, leaving him panting and painfully hard.

Jungwon tried to play it strategic. He waited until you were bent over the hood of your Supra, then came up behind you, pressing his thick erection against your ass while his hand slid around to cup your throat lightly. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N,” he murmured, voice low and commanding.

You pushed back against him, grinding your ass along his cock in long, deliberate strokes, arching your back like a cat in heat. “Am I?” you asked sweetly, looking over your shoulder with that signature cocky smirk. “Or are you just mad I’m finally the one in control?”

You kept rolling your hips, letting the head of his cock nudge right against your clothed entrance again and again, teasing him with the promise of sinking inside. Every time he tried to pull your shorts aside, you slapped his hand away and ground harder, faster, until his breathing turned ragged and his grip on your throat tightened with frustration. Then you stepped away completely, leaving him cursing under his breath, cock straining obscenely against his pants.

All day it went on like that. You’d brush against them “accidentally,” press your tits against their arms while handing them tools, whisper filthy reminders of how good their cocks felt while deliberately denying them. You’d grind on Riki while he was under a car, ride Sunoo’s thigh while pretending to check specs on a laptop, and edge Jungwon against every available surface. By late evening, they were feral. Riki was pacing like a caged animal, constantly adjusting his painfully hard cock. Sunoo’s pretty face was flushed, eyes dark with restrained violence. Even Jungwon, usually the most composed, had a dangerous glint in his eyes, jaw clenched so tight it looked painful.

You stood in the middle of the garage, arms crossed under your chest, pushing your tits up on purpose, looking every inch the untouchable Ghost again. “Something wrong, boys?” you asked innocently, though your voice dripped with smug satisfaction. “You all look… frustrated.” Riki stepped forward first, voice rough. “Y/N. You’re pushing it.”

You tilted your head, smiling sweetly. “Good.” The power felt delicious. 

The same night crackled with a different kind of danger. After an entire day of your merciless edging, the boys were driven insane, bodies wound tight, cocks still aching, minds half on the track and half buried between your thighs. The frustration only made them sharper. Hungrier. Meaner. Word had spread fast through the underground: a once-in-a-decade race. Three rival crews versus your trio. The prize pot was absolutely out of a fever dream, eight stolen luxury cars plus over two million in dirty cash stacked in black duffels. Winner takes all. Losers walk away with nothing… or worse. You were not on the track tonight. You’d made that clear with a cocky little smirk as they suited up.

“You three can suffer a little longer,” you’d purred, leaning against the Supra in tiny shorts, arms crossed under your chest. “Win this race and maybe, I’ll let you fuck the attitude out of me.”That promise had lit a fire under them.

The starting line stretched across an abandoned freight yard that fed straight into the old industrial tunnels. Hundreds of spectators lined the barriers. Neon lights flickered. Bookies screamed odds. The air reeked of gasoline, weed, and raw testosterone. Your three cars sat at the front like predators: Riki’s slammed Evo, Sunoo’s aggressive Porsche, and Jungwon’s matte-black GT-R. Engines idling with menacing rumbles. Riki’s hands flexed on the wheel, jaw tight. “I’m still so fucking hard it hurts,” he muttered over the radio.

Sunoo’s soft laugh crackled back. “Blame our pretty little brat.”

Jungwon’s voice cut through, calm but edged with steel. “Focus. We win this, then we go home and ruin her until she can’t walk.” The flag dropped. Chaos exploded instantly. The first straight was pure war. Rivals tried to box them in, bumping aggressively. Riki dove into a gap so tight his mirrors scraped concrete, snarling as he forced a rival into the wall with a sickening crunch of metal. Sparks flew like fireworks.

Sunoo was a white swan in motion, slipping through traffic like liquid, using every dirty trick you’d taught him. He feinted left, then cut right, sending another car spinning into a barrier. His Porsche danced on the edge of control, widebody kissing the tunnel walls. Jungwon played the long game, hanging back just enough to read the chaos before striking. He was the anchor, calling moves with ice-cold precision while his GT-R devoured straights like a demon.

The course turned hellish. They blasted into the long abandoned subway tunnels, pitch black except for headlights and emergency strobes. One rival tried to run Sunoo into a pillar. Sunoo countered by tapping his rear bumper at 140 mph, sending the car into a violent spin that took out two others in a chain-reaction crash. The explosion of metal and glass lit up the tunnel behind them. “Clear,” Sunoo reported, breathing hard.

Riki was losing his mind with adrenaline and sexual frustration. On a sweeping elevated highway section, drifting through a corner so aggressively his Evo nearly rolled. He clipped a rival’s bumper on purpose, sending them flying over the guardrail and into the dark ravine below. The final leg was the cliffside death run, narrow roads hugging jagged drops, wind howling off the ocean. Here, the remaining rivals threw everything at them: side-swipes, brake checks, even throwing glass bottles onto the road.

Jungwon took a brutal hit to his rear quarter, the GT-R fishtailing dangerously close to the edge. For one terrifying second, two wheels hung over nothing but black sea and rocks. “Won—!” you screamed into the radio from the observation point above, heart in your throat. He recovered with terrifying skill, counter-steering perfectly. “Still here, baby.” That near-miss only fueled them.

In the last mile, the three of them formed a perfect arrow, Riki leading, Sunoo and Jungwon guarding his flanks. They crossed the finish line almost simultaneously, sweeping the podium in a dominant, brutal display that left the crowd roaring and the rival crews stunned into silence. They’d won. The stolen cars and duffels of cash were theirs. But the real prize was waiting back at the garage.

The drive back was torture. All three cars pulled into the shipyard in formation, engines screaming victory. The moment they killed the ignitions, the boys exploded out of their cars, eyes wild, bodies still vibrating with race adrenaline and a full day of your cruel teasing. You were waiting in the center of the garage, arms crossed, that signature cocky smirk on your lips. “Congratulations, boys. Looks like you—” Riki didn’t let you finish. He stormed forward, grabbed you by the throat, and slammed you against the side of his still-ticking Evo. His mouth crashed into yours in a violent, starving kiss. “You think you can edge us for twelve fucking hours and then stand there looking smug?” he snarled against your lips.

Sunoo appeared on your other side, pretty face dark with promise. “We’re going to make you regret every single thing, baby.” Jungwon stepped in last, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. “Time’s up, Y/N.”

Hands tore at your tiny shorts and crop top until the fabric was in shreds on the concrete floor. “You’ve been a fucking brat all day,” Riki snarled against your lips, biting down hard on your lower lip until you tasted blood. “Grinding on our cocks like a cocktease and thinking you could walk away?”

They carried you to the wide central workbench and threw you down on your back. Within seconds you were completely naked, legs spread obscenely wide. Jungwon gripped your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision spark as he leaned over you. “Open that pretty mouth.”

Sunoo was already there, pretty cock hard and leaking as he fed it straight down your throat in one smooth thrust. You gagged loudly, eyes watering instantly as he started fucking your face with deep, controlled strokes. “Fuck… that throat feels even better when you’ve been teasing us all day,” Sunoo groaned, voice sweet and filthy. He held your head in place, hips snapping forward until your nose pressed against his pelvis.

At the same time, Riki and Jungwon positioned themselves between your spread thighs. Riki spat directly onto your already soaked pussy, rubbing the thick head of his massive cock against your entrance while Jungwon did the same, pressing right beside him. “You’re gonna take both of us in this greedy cunt tonight,” Jungwon said, voice low and commanding. 

They pushed in together. The stretch was brutal, burning, overwhelming. You screamed around Sunoo’s cock as both thick cocks forced their way inside you at once, inch by inch, stretching you to your absolute limit. The obscene pressure made your eyes roll back, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Fuuuuck— so goddamn tight,” Riki growled, eyes locked on where both you holes were stretched around both of their cocks. “Look at her taking two dicks like a champ. This is what you get for edging us, baby.”

They started moving, alternating thrusts at first, then finding a devastating rhythm together. The workbench creaked violently beneath you as they fucked you stupid, pounding deep into your cunt while Sunoo continued throat-fucking you without mercy. The wet sounds skin smacking and and gagging throat filled the entire garage. You came hard within minutes, violently, squirting around their cocks as your body convulsed. They didn’t slow down. “Again,” Jungwon demanded, spanking your clit hard while they railed you. “Cum on our cocks like the messy little whore you are.”

Sunoo knelt in front of you, gripping your hair and forcing his cock back down your throat. The three of them used you mercilessly. Riki and Jungwon fucked you in perfect sync, stretching you beyond reason, their balls slapping wetly against you. Jungwon reached around to rub your swollen clit while Riki sucked marks into your bouncing tits. Sunoo fucked your throat until drool and precum ran down your chin in thick strings, dripping onto your tits.

Riki panted, voice wrecked. “Gonna fill this slutty cunt until it’s overflowing.” The orgasms kept coming. You came again, soaking Riki’s abs and the workbench. Your screams were muffled around Sunoo’s cock as wave after wave of devastating pleasure tore through your overstimulated body. They started rotating. Sunoo pulled out of your throat only to let Riki take your mouth while Jungwon kept destroying your pussy. Then Jungwon switched to your throat, feeding you his cock covered in your own juices while Riki and Sunoo double-penetrated you again. The taste of yourself mixed with their precum made you moan like a broken whore. 

Riki came first, pulling out of your pussy and painting your face with thick ropes of cum. Sunoo followed, pulling out of your mouth and adding to the mess, covering your flushed cheeks, lips, and tongue. Jungwon kept fucking you through it, then finally buried himself deep and unloaded straight into your womb. They didn’t stop.

By the end, you were a complete wreck. Lying on the workbench, covered head to toe in sweat and semen. Thick loads dripped from your swollen pussy onto the floor. Your face was painted white, cum leaking from the corners of your mouth. Your tits were marked with handprints and bite marks. Your voice was hoarse from screaming. Riki crouched beside you, gently brushing cum-soaked hair from your face while Jungwon pressed soft kisses to your trembling thighs.

Sunoo smiled that angelic, wicked smile and leaned down to kiss your cum-stained lips. “Look at our strong, cocky Ghost,” he whispered. You could barely move, body twitching with aftershocks, pussy still clenching around nothing as more cum slowly leaked out of you. But even through the exhaustion, a weak, satisfied smirk tugged at your swollen lips. “Worth it,” you rasped. 

The tension in the garage had been simmering for days. You were bent over the hood of a sleek, silver Mercedes-AMG GT that belonged to Kai, a quiet but skilled solo racer who’d paid you a small fortune for emergency mods before the next big tunnel run. Your hands were deep in the engine bay, tightening a new intercooler setup, when the roll-up door slammed open hard enough to rattle the walls.

All three of them walked in. Riki first, eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of you working intimately on another man’s car. Sunoo followed, his usual angelic smirk gone flat. Jungwon brought up the rear, jaw locked so tight the muscle ticked. Kai, smart man that he was, muttered a quick thanks and disappeared the second he felt the shift in the air.

You straightened up, wiping grease on your shorts, and raised an eyebrow. “Problem?”

Riki was on you in three strides. He spun you around, pressing your back against the Mercedes’ hood, and crashed his mouth onto yours in a deep, possessive kiss that stole the air from your lungs. His hands gripped your waist hard, fingers digging in like he could brand you through skin and bone.

“You let him bring his car here?” he growled against your lips before kissing you again, harder, tongue sliding against yours like he was trying to erase any trace of another man’s presence. “You had your hands all over his engine while we were waiting for you?”

Sunoo stepped in beside you, turning your face toward him the second Riki pulled back for air. His kiss was slower but no less intense, deep, claiming, one hand cupping your jaw while the other fisted the front of your tank top.

“You’re ours, Y/N,” Sunoo whispered hotly against your mouth, voice uncharacteristically rough. “Not some hired wrench for every pretty boy with money. I can’t fucking stand seeing you bent over another man’s car like that.”

Jungwon was last. He pulled you away from the Mercedes entirely, backing you up against the tool chest instead. His kiss was raw, almost angry, full of weeks of building emotion. When he finally broke away, forehead pressed to yours, his voice cracked with something real.

“I hate it,” he admitted, breathing hard. “I hate seeing you give even a second of your time to someone else. We’ve been trying to keep this casual, but… I can’t anymore. The thought of you with anyone who isn’t us makes me want to burn this entire shipyard down.”

The confession hung heavy in the air. You looked between them, Riki pacing like a caged animal, Sunoo watching you with dark, vulnerable eyes, Jungwon’s usual composure completely shattered. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said quietly, reaching up to touch Jungwon’s cheek. “But you three don’t own every second of my life.”

“That’s the problem,” Riki muttered, stepping close again. He kissed you once more, softer this time but still desperate. “I don’t want to share you with the rest of this fucking world, Y/N. Not even for money. Not even for an hour.” Sunoo pressed in from the other side, kissing the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the sensitive spot under your ear. “You’re more than our mechanic now. More than our good luck charm. You’re… ours. And it’s starting to feel like something I can’t lose.”

The moment stretched, thick with new, terrifying tenderness beneath all the possessiveness. Later that night, the feelings boiled over on the road. It was supposed to be a standard tunnel run, your crew running escort for a big payout. But the cops had been tipped off. Halfway through the long industrial tunnel, blue and red lights exploded behind you, sirens screaming.

“Scatter!” Jungwon barked over the radio.

The chase was vicious. Riki drifted through a narrow gap between concrete pillars at terrifying speed, barely missing a patrol car trying to cut him off. Sunoo used his Porsche’s agility to slip through an exit ramp at the last second. You stayed glued to Jungwon’s GT-R, pushing your Supra to its absolute limit as two cruisers closed in. A near-miss nearly ended everything.

One cop car tried to PIT you on a sharp curve. Jungwon swerved at the last second, forcing you to brake hard and slide between them in a hail of sparks and screaming metal. Your heart hammered so violently you thought it might burst. For one sickening second, you saw the headlines, the Ghost finally crashing out. You all made it out. Barely. Back at the garage, the adrenaline crash hit hard.

The second the doors were down, Jungwon yanked you out of your Supra and pinned you against it, kissing you like he’d almost lost you forever. Riki and Sunoo joined immediately, surrounding you in a tangle of desperate mouths and gripping hands.

“I can’t do this,” Jungwon rasped between kisses, voice raw with emotion. “I can’t keep pretending this is just racing and fucking. When I saw that cop almost take you out tonight… I’ve never been that scared in my life.”

Riki’s hand slid into your hair, tilting your head so he could kiss you deeply, almost angrily. “You’re under our skin, Y/N. All the way. I lose focus every time you’re not right there with me. And seeing you mod that asshole’s car earlier? I wanted to drag you away and remind you exactly who you belong to.”

Sunoo kissed you slower, but his hands trembled slightly against your waist. “We’re falling for you. All three of us. And it’s making us stupid. Jealous as hell. But I don’t want to stop.”

You stood there between them, heart racing for an entirely different reason now. The Ghost, undefeated, untouchable, felt her walls cracking under the weight of three pairs of eyes that looked at her like she was the only thing that mattered in their chaotic world. “I’m scared too,” you admitted quietly, voice thick. “This stopped being just fun a long time ago.” Jungwon rested his forehead against yours, breathing you in. Riki pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to your temple. Sunoo nuzzled into your neck, arms wrapped tightly around your waist.

The morning after the confessions came slow and golden.

Sunlight filtered weakly through the high warehouse windows of the loft above the garage, painting long, dusty beams across the wide bed you all shared. The air still carried the faint scent of engine oil, sea salt, and last night’s adrenaline. You woke up tangled between them, Riki’s heavy arm slung possessively over your waist, Sunoo curled against your back with his face buried in your neck, and Jungwon lying on his side in front of you, watching you with quiet, unguarded eyes.

For once, there was no rush. No race looming in the next few hours. No engines screaming. Just the four of you, breathing in the same quiet rhythm. Jungwon reached out first, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with a gentleness that still surprised you from the usually composed leader. His thumb brushed your lower lip, eyes soft in the morning light.

“Morning, baby,” he murmured, voice rough with sleep but warm like melted honey. He leaned in and kissed you, slow, lingering, no heat of possession this time, just pure, aching affection. The kind of kiss that said he’d been lying awake thinking about you for hours. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “You scared the hell out of me yesterday. I keep seeing that cop car trying to take you out… and all I could think was I can’t lose you.”

You smiled softly, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. “I’m right here, Won. Not going anywhere.” Behind you, Sunoo stirred, pressing a trail of lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your bare shoulder. His arm tightened around your middle, pulling you back flush against his warm chest.

“Mmm… my favorite way to wake up,” he whispered, voice still drowsy and sweet. “Our pretty girl between us.” He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply like he needed your scent to ground him. “You make everything feel… right. Even when the world outside is trying to burn us down.”

Riki, ever the restless one, tightened his grip on your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing the sensitive skin there with surprising tenderness. His usual feral energy was quiet this morning, replaced by something deeper, almost vulnerable.

“You know I’m shit at this soft stuff,” he mumbled against your skin, voice low and rough. “But fuck, Y/N… waking up and knowing you’re ours? That you chose us? It messes me up in the best way.” He pressed another slow kiss right below your ear, then another on your jaw, taking his time like he wanted to memorize every inch of you. “I don’t care about the cars or the money anymore. I just want you here. Safe. With us.”

You let yourself sink into them, surrounded by their warmth, their scents, their quiet love. For the first time in years, the undefeated Ghost didn’t feel like she had to run or fight. She just… existed. Cherished. The morning unfolded lazily. Jungwon eventually slipped out of bed and returned with coffee, black for you, exactly how you liked it, and a plate of fruit he’d cut up himself. He fed you bites of sweet mango between soft kisses, his free hand gently massaging the tension from your shoulders.

Sunoo pulled you into the shower with him later, but there was nothing rushed about it. He washed your hair with careful fingers, massaging your scalp until you were nearly purring. He kissed every bruise and mark they’d left on your body, not with hunger, but with quiet reverence, whispering against your wet skin how beautiful you were, how strong, how irreplaceable.

Riki was the most surprising. He cooked, or at least tried to, burning the edges of the eggs but plating them with a proud little grin when you laughed at the mess. He kept pulling you onto his lap while you all ate together at the small table in the loft, one big hand rubbing slow circles on your thigh, the other feeding you bites from his own plate.

“I like you here,” he said quietly, eyes locked on yours. “Just… us.” By late afternoon, the four of you ended up back in bed, a tangled pile of limbs and quiet affection. You lay on your back with your head in Jungwon’s lap while he played with your hair. Sunoo rested his head on your stomach, tracing lazy patterns on your skin. Riki had his face pressed against your ribs, one arm thrown over your thighs. None of you spoke for a long time. The silence was comfortable, heavy with new emotions that felt too big for words.

“I never thought I’d have this,” you admitted eventually, voice barely above a whisper. “I was always alone. But with you three… I don’t feel alone anymore. I feel seen. Wanted. Loved, even when you’re being jealous assholes about it.” Jungwon’s fingers paused in your hair. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, lingering there. “You are loved, Y/N. More than you know. I’m not good at saying it, but… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to us. To me.”

Sunoo lifted his head, eyes sparkling with rare vulnerability as he kissed the center of your chest, right over your heart. “You make me want to be better. Softer. Even when I want to keep you locked away from the rest of the world.”

Riki pushed himself up slightly, cupping your face with one big hand. His thumb stroked your cheek as he looked at you with raw intensity. “I’d burn every rival car, every cop, every fucking thing that tries to take you from us. But I’d also give it all up if you asked me to. That’s how much you mean to me now.” You felt your eyes sting with unexpected tears. Not from sadness, from the overwhelming warmth of being so completely, fiercely cherished. You pulled them closer, one by one, kissing each of them slowly and deeply, pouring every unspoken feeling into the press of your lips. They held you tighter, their hands gentle, their breaths mingling with yours in the quiet loft.

The underground world outside kept spinning, races, danger, dirty money, and rivals. But up here, in this stolen moment, there was only love. Messy, jealous, protective, all-consuming love. You were sinking into it, slow and deep, letting yourself be utterly, beautifully wrapped up in the three men who had claimed far more than just your body. They had your heart now too.

—

Six months later, the shipyard garage had changed.

What was once just a hidden den of midnight mods and stolen moments had slowly become something closer to a home. The loft upstairs now held four toothbrushes in the bathroom, your racing suits hanging beside theirs in the reinforced closet, and a bigger bed they’d dragged in after too many nights of tangled limbs and not enough space. There were plants Sunoo insisted on keeping alive on the windowsill, a ridiculous number of Riki’s protein shakes in the fridge, and Jungwon’s carefully organized race notebooks stacked on the desk.

You stood on the upper catwalk overlooking the garage floor, watching them.

Riki was under his Evo again, tools clanging as he fine-tuned the suspension you’d redesigned last week. Grease streaked his arms and cheek. Sunoo leaned against the Porsche, laughing at something Riki said while polishing the widebody with slow, elegant strokes. Jungwon stood a little apart, arms crossed, reviewing the new route maps you’d marked up together the night before.

They looked like home. But the underground never let you forget what it was. Tonight was another high-stakes run, bigger money, dirtier players, the kind of race where people still disappeared. The danger hadn’t vanished. If anything, it had grown sharper now that the four of you were something real. The jealousy still flared hot and sudden. The possessiveness still left bruises and desperate kisses against cold metal. The sex was still filthy, raw, and frequent, sometimes sweet and slow in the early mornings, sometimes all three of them wrecking you until you cried and begged on the same workbench where it all began.

Nothing had been sanitized. You were still the Ghost. They were still the ruthless trio that made the night circuits tremble. You still modded cars for cash when the mood struck. They still raced like devils and fucked you like they were terrified of losing you. But something deeper had taken root.

Jungwon looked up first, sensing your gaze. His sharp eyes softened the moment they found you. He climbed the metal stairs two at a time and pulled you into his arms without a word, burying his face in your hair. “You’re thinking too loud again,” he murmured against your temple. You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Just wondering how the hell we got here. From fucking in my backseat to… this.”

Riki and Sunoo joined you moments later, surrounding you in that familiar wall of warmth and muscle. Riki pressed against your back, arms locking around your middle. Sunoo slipped in beside Jungwon, catching your hand and pressing a slow kiss to your knuckles.

“We’re building something real,” Sunoo said quietly, his usual teasing tone replaced by something gentler, almost reverent. “Doesn’t mean we’re leaving the life behind. I don’t think any of us could. But we’re doing it together now. No more running solo. No more pretending this is temporary.”

Riki’s grip tightened, his voice low and rough against your ear. “I still get jealous as fuck when you work on other cars. Still want to drag you away and remind you who you belong to every single day. But I also want to wake up next to you every morning. Want to keep you safe. Want… a future. With you in it.”

Jungwon pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing your cheek. “We’re talking about buying the whole shipyard. Making it legitimate on paper, a real performance garage. We keep racing underground because it’s in our blood. We keep loving you the way we do because we don’t know how to do it softly. But we’re also building something that lasts. Something that’s ours.”

You felt your throat tighten with emotion. The Ghost who once thrived on solitude and speed now found herself completely, helplessly in love with three dangerous, complicated men who had cracked her open and decided to stay.

“I’m terrified,” you whispered, honest and raw. “I’ve never had anything real before. But I want it. With all of you. The filth. The danger. The quiet mornings. All of it.”

Riki kissed the side of your neck, slow and tender. Sunoo leaned in to capture your lips in a deep, lingering kiss that tasted like promise. Jungwon waited his turn, then kissed you like he was sealing a vow. The four of you stood there on the catwalk for a long time, wrapped around each other as the sun dipped lower and the garage lights flickered on one by one. Outside, the underground waited, screaming engines, dirty money, rival threats, and the ever-present risk of everything burning down.

Inside, something beautiful and messy and real was taking shape. You were still the Ghost. But now you had a pack. And together, no matter how dark or filthy or dangerous the road ahead became, you would face it as one. The night called. You answered, four hearts beating in sync, four shadows merging into something unbreakable. And for the first time, the future didn’t feel like something to outrun. It felt like something worth racing toward.

Now it was just the two of you on the couch, the birthday boy’s thighs spread wide, his pretty face flushed pink, lips parted as he stared down at you with those dark, hazy eyes.

“Fuck… you really don’t have to—” Sunoo started, voice already hoarse, but you cut him off by pressing your palm firmly over the very obvious bulge straining in his black pants.

“Shut up, Sunoo. It’s your birthday,” you murmured, voice low and teasing as you slowly dragged the zipper down. “And I’ve been thinking about this all night.”

He let out a shaky breath that turned into a soft, needy whimper when you freed his cock. It slapped against his stomach, hard, flushed a deep pink at the tip, already leaking. Sunoo was always pretty, but like this? Messy hair falling into his eyes, lips glossy from the wine earlier, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, he looked sinful.

You wrapped your hand around the base and gave one slow, experimental stroke. His hips jerked up instantly.

“Shit—your hand feels so good already,” he breathed, one hand coming down to thread gently through your hair. Not pushing, just holding. Like he needed something to ground him.

You leaned in and dragged your tongue up the underside of his cock in one long, wet stripe, savoring the way he twitched against your tongue. When you reached the head you swirled around it, collecting the bead of precum and swallowing with a soft, appreciative hum.

Sunoo’s head fell back against the couch. “Oh my god…”

You smiled against his skin before taking him deeper, lips stretching around his thickness. He was big enough that your jaw ached in the best way after just a few inches, but you pushed further, relaxing your throat until your nose brushed his pelvis.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re taking me so well,” he groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. His voice had that sweet, breathy quality he usually saved for the stage, but filthier now. “Look at you… So fucking pretty.”

You moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. You started moving, slow at first, dragging your lips up and down his length with wet sounds that filled the quiet room. Every time you pulled back you let your tongue flick against the sensitive spot under the head, then sank back down until he hit the back of your throat.

Sunoo was falling apart beautifully. His free hand gripped the couch cushion hard, knuckles white. Soft, broken moans spilled from his lips every few seconds, little gasps of your name mixed with curses and praises.

“You’re so good at this… ah—how are you so good? Gonna ruin me for anyone else, baby.”

You pulled off with a wet pop, strings of saliva connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock. “Good. I want to ruin you,” you said, voice raspy, before diving back in with renewed hunger.

This time you went faster, hollowing your cheeks and sucking harder. One hand stroked what your mouth couldn’t reach while the other slipped between his legs to gently roll his balls. Sunoo’s hips started thrusting up shallowly, chasing the heat of your mouth like he couldn’t help it.

You let him. You wanted him desperate.

His breathing grew ragged. “Wait—slow down, I’m—fuck, I’m close already—”

You didn’t slow down. Instead you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes watering but determined, and moaned loudly around his cock. The eye contact broke him. Sunoo’s pretty face twisted in pleasure, mouth open in a silent cry as his thighs started trembling.

“I’m gonna cum—baby, I’m gonna cum down your throat if you don’t—ahh—”

You only sucked harder, taking him as deep as you could and swallowing around him. With a choked moan that sounded almost too pretty to be real, Sunoo came hard. Thick, hot pulses flooded your mouth as his hips stuttered and his fingers clenched in your hair. You swallowed every drop, working him through it until he was whimpering from overstimulation.

When you finally pulled off, lips shiny and swollen, Sunoo looked completely wrecked, chest heaving, eyes glassy, a lazy, blissed-out smile on his face.

He tugged you up gently by the hair and crashed his mouth against yours in a messy, grateful kiss, tasting himself on your tongue.

“You’re dangerous,” he whispered against your lips, still panting. His hand slid down your body possessively. “My turn now. Get on the couch, baby.”

You laughed breathlessly as he flipped you onto your back, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischievous glint even while still recovering.

“Sunoo, it’s your birthday—”

“Exactly,” he cut you off, already sliding down your body, pushing your legs apart with eager hands. “And I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss right over your clothed heat, looking up at you with those cat-like eyes full of hunger.

“Gonna make you cum so many times you forget your own name. Then I’m fucking you until the sun comes up. Sound good?”

You could only nod, already aching for him.

Best friend or not, this birthday was going to be one neither of you would ever forget.

(Masterlist)

His girlfriend was the light of his entire world. It was as if you were the sun and he were your Earth. His world revolved around you at all times, you made him feel like the happiest man alive. Even Jake had to admit it sounded like something straight out of a cheesy 90s rom-com, where the guy was voicing out his internal monologue.

A main character who was loved? Checked. A main character who was also in love? Check. And his girlfriend was the definition of perfect in his eyes? Check. Jake was utterly, hopelessly in love with you, and he would gladly embrace that fact until he died. Now now now, Jake could technically defend himself and say that it wasn’t just him who had said you were literally perfect, it was countless others too!  

He wasn’t the only one who wanted you either, he had caught his own best friend, Heeseung, staring at you multiple times, his eyes clouded with lust. And when Heeseung turned around and caught Jake’s eyes, knowing Jake had seen him ogling at his own girlfriend like she was the last piece of cake at a birthday party, he would just raise one hand in a form of greeting, a fire dancing in his eyes.

And that may have turned Jake on more than anything. One day, he was going to let something slip. One day, Heeseung was going to smile at you like that again and Jake was going to completely forget how to act normal. Jake gave himself three months before he ruined his own life.

He was crawling to his own doom harboring this little secret. It was a ticking time bomb. A prime example of this being now, Jake’s heart hammered against his ribs like it was trying to escape the guilt clawing at his chest. The room was dim, only the soft blue glow of his laptop screen cutting through the darkness. He was supposed to be practicing vocals or answering fan messages, anything but this. Yet here he was, headphones clamped over his ears, laptop propped up on his desk at the perfect angle, the video playing on loop.

On the screen, one lucky girl was getting absolutely railed by two guys. Their hands were everywhere, gripping her hips, squeezing her tits, one of them thrusting deep into her while the other fed his cock between her eager lips. Wet sounds filled his ears, mixed with her muffled moans. Jake’s hand was wrapped tight around his own cock, jerking furiously, thumb swiping over the leaking tip with every upward stroke. His breath came out in short, ragged gasps. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

“Fuck…” he whispered, eyes glued to the way they manhandled her, how she took them both so greedily. The fantasy hit him like a freight train, the same one that always crept in when he was alone. He didn’t want to share you. Not ever. You were his, his sunshine, his everything, the girl who made him laugh until his stomach hurt and kissed him like he was the only man in the world. The thought of another guy actually touching you in real life made his blood boil with possessive jealousy.

But god… the thought of watching?

His grip tightened, fist flying faster along his shaft as the video showed one of the guys flipping the girl onto her back and sliding back inside her while the other knelt beside her face. Jake’s mind betrayed him instantly. He pictured you instead, spread out so pretty on their bed, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with pleasure. Another man’s hands on your thighs, spreading you open. Another man’s cock pushing into that tight, perfect heat that belonged to him. You’d look up at Jake the whole time, lips parted, moaning his name like a plea while someone else fucked you senseless.

“Shit—baby…” Jake groaned under his breath, hips bucking up into his fist. The fantasy was filthy and wrong and so fucking hot it made his head spin. He didn’t want to lose you. He wanted to keep you safe in his arms, cherished and loved like the princess you were. But the image of you getting used by someone else while he watched, stroking himself just like this, made his balls draw up tight.

His strokes grew erratic, slick sounds echoing quietly in his room as pre-cum dripped over his knuckles. On screen the girl was crying out, sandwiched between the two men, and Jake imagined your voice doing the same, whimpering, begging, taking everything they gave you while he sat in the corner, cock throbbing in his hand, completely lost in how beautiful you looked falling apart.

He was so close. So fucking close. His free hand gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white. Just as the pressure coiled unbearably tight at the base of his spine, the worst possible sound cut through his headphones. The soft click of the bedroom door opening. Jake froze mid-stroke, eyes wide in pure panic as he looked up.

There you stood in the doorway, holding the takeout bags he’d forgotten about, your expression shifting from cheerful surprise to something unreadable as your gaze flicked from his flushed face… down to his hand still wrapped around his very hard cock… and then to the explicit threesome still playing loudly on his laptop screen.

His death, it turned out, wasn’t a metaphor after all.

Jake slammed his laptop shut so fast the screen nearly cracked, the wet moans cutting off mid-thrust. “Wait, baby! I can explain—” he blurted, voice cracking.

He yanked his pants up in a frantic scramble, nearly tripping over his own feet as he crossed the room in three long strides. His hands landed on your shoulders, warm and slightly shaky, and he pulled you in, pressing a desperate kiss to your temple like he was trying to anchor himself before you vanished.

You were already biting your lip hard, shoulders trembling as you fought back giggles. The takeout bags were still dangling from your fingers, forgotten.

“Aww, Jakey…” you managed, voice sweet and teasing, “I didn’t know you were nasty like that.”

Jake’s face burned crimson. He was still panting, chest heaving, cock still half-hard and straining against the hastily pulled-up sweatpants. “Fuck, I— I didn’t want you to find out like this,” he groaned, forehead dropping to rest against yours. “I just… I’ve always had this fantasy. A threesome. Not, not sharing you for real in a way that I’d lose you. I could never do that. But the thought of watching someone else touch you… fuck you while I watch… it drives me insane, baby. I feel so guilty every time it gets in my head, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”

You let out a soft, amused huff and gently pushed at his chest, guiding him backwards toward the bed. He let you steer him until the backs of his knees hit the mattress and he sat down heavily. You settled right beside him, close enough that your thigh pressed against his.

“Then what’s stopping you?” you asked, tilting your head with an innocent little smile that didn’t match the spark in your eyes.

Jake froze completely, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Wait… baby, seriously?”

“Yes, Jakey,” you said softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair off his damp forehead. “Who do you have in mind?”

He gulped hard, Adam’s apple bobbing visibly. His cheeks were still flushed dark, breath uneven as he stared at you like you’d just offered him the moon and stars wrapped in a bow. “Well…” he started, voice low and husky, almost shy. His hand found yours, fingers lacing together tightly. “I’ve noticed Heeseung… eye-fucking you quite a few times, darling. The way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s paying attention. Like he wants to devour you.”

Jake’s grip on your hand tightened, his other hand sliding up your thigh. You hummed absentmindedly, you would have been lying if you said you hadn’t noticed Heeseung before either. He always had his eyes trailing down your body whenever you, Jake and his friends were there. And you would also be lying if you denied the fact that you wouldn’t like Heeseung touching you either. Because the truth was, Heeseung was an attractive man, far too attractive for his own good, and he certainly knew he was handsome, that man was the devil in disguise. 

A slow, mischievous smile spread across your lips as you looked at Jake. “Then let’s make it happen, Jakey.”

His eyes widened, a mix of shock, nerves, and raw arousal flashing across his flushed face. “You’re… you’re really okay with this?”

“More than okay,” you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his. “But we do it smart. No rushing. We set the scene.”

You two spent the next few minutes huddled together on the bed, voices low and excited, plotting like teenagers with a filthy secret. The plan was simple but perfect: you’d text Heeseung later saying you needed help with the kitchen sink, it was “suddenly not draining properly” and you didn’t know what to do. Jake would conveniently be “out” for a few hours. You’d call Heeseung, all sweet and helpless, asking if he could come over because “Jakey isn’t home and I just don’t know how to fix it, Hee. Please?”

Jake’s cock twitched visibly in his sweatpants just from talking it through. He kissed you hard, almost desperate, muttering against your mouth how much he loved you, how insane this was, how he couldn’t believe you were really doing this for him, for both of you.

An hour later, you were ready. You’d changed into your tiniest white tank top, the thin fabric clinging to your breasts with no bra underneath, your nipples faintly visible through the material. Paired with the shortest cotton shorts you owned, the ones that barely covered the bottom curve of your ass, riding up every time you moved. Your hair was slightly messy, lips glossy, and you looked every bit the tempting little housewife in distress.

You stood in the kitchen, phone in hand, heart racing with anticipation. After sending Jake a quick text confirming he was “out,” you dialed Heeseung.

He picked up on the second ring. “Hey… Hee?” you said, voice soft and a little pouty. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but the kitchen sink is acting up really bad. It’s not draining at all and water’s everywhere. Jakey isn’t home and I have no idea what to do. Could you please come over? I’d really appreciate it…”

Heeseung’s deep voice came through the line, calm but with a hint of something unreadable. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be there in ten.”

True to his word, Heeseung showed up in under ten minutes. The doorbell rang and you took a slow breath, smirking internally as a thrill shot through your body.

This is really happening. I’m about to get fucked by two of the hottest men I know.

You opened the door, and there he was, Heeseung, tall and broad-shouldered in a simple black t-shirt and gray sweats, hair slightly tousled like he’d run his fingers through it on the way over. His eyes immediately dropped, raking over your body in one long, shameless sweep. From your bare legs, up to the tiny shorts hugging your hips, then higher to where your tank top stretched across your chest. He didn’t even try to hide it. His gaze darkened, jaw tightening for a split second before he forced a casual smile. “Hey,” he said, voice low and smooth, stepping inside. “Sink trouble, huh?”

“Yeah…” You closed the door behind him, biting your lip innocently. “It’s such a mess. I didn’t want to call a plumber this late.”

Heeseung nodded, but his eyes kept drifting, fucking you with just a look. They lingered on the way your nipples poked against the thin fabric, then slid down to the exposed skin of your thighs. He cleared his throat, trying to sound normal as he followed you into the kitchen.

“Show me what’s going on.”

You bent over the sink a little more than necessary, reaching under it to point at the pipes, knowing full well how the shorts rode up, revealing the soft underside of your ass. Heeseung stood right behind you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His stare burned into you, slow, heavy, hungry. You could practically feel him imagining bending you over this very counter.

“Looks like it might be a clog,” he muttered, voice a little rougher now. His hand brushed your lower back as he leaned in to inspect, the touch lingering a second too long. “You tried plunging it yet?”

“I did, but it didn’t help,” you replied sweetly, glancing back at him over your shoulder. His eyes were locked on your ass, dark and intense, before he quickly looked up to meet your gaze. The tension in the kitchen was suffocating, thick, filthy, unspoken. Heeseung’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and your pulse raced.

He tried to keep the conversation casual, asking about how long it had been happening, if Jake had looked at it before, but every sentence was undercut by the way his gaze kept dropping to your tits, your legs, the way you shifted your weight and let your shorts ride even higher. His breathing was deeper, controlled, but the bulge growing in his sweats wasn’t so subtle anymore.

You straightened up slowly, turning to face him, standing just a little too close. Heeseung didn’t step back. His eyes bored into yours, then flicked down to your mouth, then lower again, drinking in every inch of exposed skin like he was starving. The air crackled. You could feel it, the moment right before everything would change. And internally, you were glowing with wicked excitement.

This is going to be the best fuck of my life.

You kept a hand on his bicep, feeling the hard muscle tense under your fingers as you inched closer, deliberately pressing your body against his. Your breasts brushed his chest through the thin tank top, and you shifted your hips just enough until you felt the unmistakable, thick bulge of his cock pressing right against your lower belly. He was rock hard already.

“Heeseung…” you whispered, voice sweet and breathy, lips barely an inch from his ear, “you seem so tense. What’s up?”

Heeseung closed his eyes for a long moment, jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle ticking. His hands hovered at your waist like he was fighting every instinct not to grab you. Then, with a low, strained groan, he pushed you back slightly, just enough to create a sliver of space between your bodies, but not nearly enough to hide how much he wanted you.

“You’re Jake’s girlfriend,” he rasped, voice rough and dark, eyes still burning as they dropped to your lips, then your barely-covered tits. “I can’t betray him like that. Fuck, I shouldn’t even be looking at you like this.”

A soft, amused smile played on your lips. You didn’t move away. Instead, you let your fingers trail lightly down his arm, feeling the heat rolling off him in waves. “But he wants it too,” you said softly, almost teasingly.

Heeseung’s brows furrowed in confusion, but before he could respond, you called out gently toward the hallway. “Jakey… you can come out now.” There was a beat of silence, then the soft sound of footsteps. Jake emerged from the bedroom, still in his gray sweatpants, cheeks flushed and eyes dark with arousal. He looked between the two of you, at how close you were standing to Heeseung, at the obvious bulge in his friend’s sweats, at the way your tiny outfit left almost nothing to the imagination.

Heeseung stiffened, taking another half-step back, guilt flashing across his face. “Jake… what the fuck is going on?”

Jake swallowed hard, running a hand through his hair as he walked over. He stopped beside you, one arm sliding possessively around your waist, pulling you gently against his side. His voice was low, a little shy but steady. “I’ve wanted this for a long time,” Jake admitted, glancing at you with pure adoration before looking back at Heeseung. “The three of us. I know it sounds crazy, but… I’ve been fantasizing about it for months. Watching you with her. Seeing someone else touch her, fuck her, while I’m right there. I trust you. And she wants it too. We both do.”

Heeseung stared at him, completely stunned, chest rising and falling faster. His eyes flicked back to you, slow, heavy, dripping with barely-contained lust. He drank in the sight of your hard nipples pressing against the thin white fabric, the way your tiny shorts had ridden up your thighs, the slight sheen of excitement already visible on your skin. It was relentless now, like he was seconds away from devouring you whole.

“You’re serious?” Heeseung’s voice was hoarse, almost disbelieving, but the way his cock twitched visibly in his sweats betrayed him. “You actually want me to… with your girlfriend?”

Jake nodded, his hand squeezing your waist tighter. “Yeah. I do. If you’re down.”

The kitchen felt like it was on fire. Heeseung’s gaze dragged over your body again, slower this time, openly filthy, lingering on your lips, your tits, the apex of your thighs like he was already imagining exactly how he was going to ruin you. The tension was thick enough to choke on, heavy with promise and raw, dirty need. Heeseung let out a shaky breath, eyes finally locking onto yours with pure, unfiltered hunger. “Fuck… okay.”

Heeseung didn’t need to be told twice. The second the word “okay” left his mouth, he surged forward, one large hand cupping the back of your neck as his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was hungry, almost desperate, nothing like Jake’s usual sweet affection. Heeseung kissed like he wanted to consume you, tongue sliding against yours with filthy intent. A low groan rumbled from his chest as he tasted you. Jake stood just a few feet away, eyes dark and wide, breathing heavily as he watched his best friend devour his girlfriend’s mouth. His hand unconsciously palmed the obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

Heeseung’s other hand wasted no time slipping under the hem of your tiny tank top, rough palm gliding up your stomach until he cupped one of your breasts. His thumb brushed over your already hard nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers. You moaned into his mouth, the sound high and needy. “Fuck, you’re so soft,” Heeseung muttered against your lips before kissing you harder.

He suddenly gripped your waist and lifted you effortlessly, turning and caging you against the kitchen counter. Your ass pressed against the cool edge as he pushed between your legs, grinding his hard cock against your barely-covered core. His mouth left yours only to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

You gasped when he yanked your tank top up, exposing your breasts completely. Heeseung’s eyes darkened with raw lust as he stared for half a second before leaning down and sucking one nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling, teeth grazing just enough to make your back arch.

“Ah— Heeseung…” you moaned shamelessly, one hand flying to fist tightly in his dark hair, holding him against your chest. Your eyes found Jake’s across the kitchen. He looked completely wrecked, pupils blown, lips parted, chest heaving as he watched Heeseung suck and lick at your tits like a man starved. The sight of your boyfriend so turned on by watching only made you wetter.

You wrapped your legs around Heeseung’s waist, pulling him closer, grinding against the thick ridge of his cock through his sweats. Another loud, shameless moan spilled from your lips as he switched to your other breast, sucking harder, his free hand kneading the one he’d just left. Jake finally moved, closing the distance in two strides. He cupped your face and captured your lips in a deep, possessive kiss, swallowing every moan Heeseung pulled from you. When he pulled back, his voice was raspy and low, thick with arousal.

“Bedroom. Now,” Jake rasped, eyes flicking between you and Heeseung. “Take her to the bedroom.” Heeseung released your nipple with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen. He looked at Jake for a moment, breathing hard, then back at you, his gaze pure sin as he took in your flushed face, messy hair, and glistening, spit-slicked tits. Without a word, Heeseung hooked his hands under your ass, lifting you properly. Your legs stayed locked around his waist as he carried you down the hallway toward the bedroom, Jake following close behind, eyes never leaving the way your body moved against Heeseung’s.

Heeseung kicked the bedroom door open with his foot, the sound echoing through the apartment like a starting gun. Without breaking stride, he carried you straight to the bed and dropped you onto the mattress. You bounced once, breath catching in your throat as you looked up at the two men now hovering over you — tall, flushed, and radiating pure hunger.

Their hands were on you immediately.

Jake grabbed the hem of your tiny tank top and yanked it up and off, while Heeseung hooked his fingers into your shorts and panties, dragging them down your legs in one rough motion. You lifted your hips to help, already soaked and aching. In seconds you were completely naked beneath them, skin prickling under their heated stares.

They stripped themselves just as fast. Shirts tossed aside, sweatpants shoved down. Two hard, beautiful cocks sprang free — Jake’s familiar and leaking, Heeseung’s thicker and slightly longer, the tip already glistening.

For a brief second, Jake and Heeseung panted heavily, eyes locking. A silent, charged moment passed between them — something raw and unspoken — before Heeseung’s gaze slowly dragged down Jake’s body once, taking in his toned frame and throbbing cock. Then, just as quickly, his dark eyes returned to you, burning with filthy intent.

“Fuck… look at her,” Heeseung muttered, voice low and rough.

He wrapped a hand around his thick cock and gave it a few slow, firm strokes, his abs flexing with each movement. Then he leaned over you, knees pressing into the mattress between your spread thighs. He rubbed the swollen, leaking tip of his cock up and down your slick folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing your clit with every pass.

You whimpered, hips twitching desperately toward him.

At the same time, Jake crawled up the bed to your side, positioning himself near your head. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, messy kiss, tongue sliding against yours as his hand gripped his own cock, stroking himself slowly while he watched Heeseung tease your dripping pussy.

“You okay, baby?” Jake whispered hotly against your mouth between kisses, his voice shaky with arousal. “Tell us what you want.”

Heeseung’s tip nudged against your entrance, pressing just slightly, making your back arch off the bed as another needy moan spilled from your lips into Jake’s mouth.

“I want both of you,” you gasped against Jake’s lips, voice trembling with need. “Please— I need you both right now.” That was all it took. Heeseung groaned deeply, lined himself up, and slammed into you in one powerful stroke, bottoming out completely. The sudden stretch made you cry out around Jake’s cock as he guided the leaking tip past your lips at the exact same moment.

“Fuck— so tight,” Heeseung growled, eyes rolling back for a second as your walls clenched around his thick length. “She’s sucking me in so fucking good, Jake.”

Jake let out a shaky moan, hips pushing forward as he fed more of his cock into your warm, eager mouth. “That’s it, baby… take us. You look so fucking pretty like this.”

They found their rhythm almost instantly, Heeseung fucking you with deep, steady thrusts that rocked your entire body, while Jake fucked your mouth in perfect sync, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. Heeseung’s hands gripped your thighs, spreading you wider as he drove into you harder. “God, your pussy is perfect. So wet for us already. You love getting fucked by two cocks, don’t you?”

You moaned loudly around Jake’s shaft, the vibrations making him curse and thrust a little deeper. Jake stroked your cheek with his thumb, eyes dark with lust as he watched your lips stretch around him. “Such a good girl… taking him so well. You’re doing so fucking amazing, baby. My perfect girl.”

Heeseung leaned down, sucking one of your bouncing tits into his mouth while pounding into you, his hips snapping relentlessly. “She’s clenching so hard around me. Fuck, Jake, she gets tighter every time you call her a good girl.”

The filthy praise and the feeling of being completely filled from both ends had your head spinning in pleasure. Heeseung’s cock dragged against that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, while Jake’s familiar taste and the way he shallowly fucked your throat made your eyes water with overwhelming sensation.

Jake’s breathing grew ragged, his thrusts getting sloppier as he chased his release. He looked down at you with pure adoration and raw lust. “Gonna cum down your throat, baby,” he rasped, voice hoarse. “Want you to swallow every drop like the good girl you are.”

He turned his head to Heeseung, eyes blazing. “Pull out Heeseung. She’s still my girl.” Heeseung let out a dark, strained chuckle, fucking you even harder for a few more punishing strokes before he obeyed. He pulled out with a wet sound, stroking his glistening cock furiously as he knelt beside you.

Jake pushed deep into your throat one last time and came with a broken moan, thick ropes of cum spilling down your throat as you swallowed around him eagerly. “Fuck— yes, baby… just like that.”

At the same time, Heeseung groaned loudly, his cock twitching as he painted your stomach and tits with hot, heavy streaks of cum, marking your skin while Jake finished in your mouth. Both of them were panting hard, eyes locked on your flushed, cum-covered body with pure satisfaction.

Jake pulled his cock from your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva and cum connecting your swollen lips to his tip for a second before it broke. You were still panting, chest heaving and glistening with Heeseung’s release, when Jake moved down your body with clear intent.

“My turn, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with possessiveness.

Heeseung shifted to the side, kneeling beside you on the bed. His dark eyes stayed glued to your body, one hand lazily stroking his still-hard cock as he watched. The hunger in his gaze didn’t fade, if anything, it burned hotter now that he was forced to observe.

Jake settled between your spread thighs, pushing them wider apart. He rubbed his cock against your soaked, puffy folds, coating himself in your slick mixed with Heeseung’s earlier efforts.

“Look at you… so fucking messy already,” Jake groaned, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “But you’re still mine.” He pushed in slowly at first, savoring every inch, then sank all the way to the hilt in one smooth thrust. You moaned loudly, back arching off the bed at the familiar stretch. Jake’s cock felt perfect inside you, hot, throbbing, and relentless as he started fucking you with deep, claiming strokes.

“Fuck, she looks so good,” Heeseung rasped, his voice low and rough as he watched intently. His eyes tracked every bounce of your tits, the way your pussy stretched around Jake’s cock, and the slick sounds filling the room. 

Jake’s hips snapped harder, one hand gripping your waist while the other kneaded your cum-covered breast. “That’s right, baby. This pussy belongs to me. Even when he fucks it… it’s still mine.”

He leaned down, kissing you messily, tasting himself on your tongue as he drove into you faster. The wet slap of skin against skin grew louder. Heeseung’s heavy breathing mixed with yours and Jake’s, the tension in the room still electric as he continued stroking himself to the sight.

“You’re taking me so well,” Jake praised against your lips, voice breaking into a moan. “So fucking tight and wet… gonna fill you up, okay? Want you dripping with me.”

You nodded desperately, nails digging into his back as pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Jake’s pace turned punishing, hips slamming against yours until he buried himself deep and came with a broken groan, thick ropes of cum flooding your pussy.

“Fuck— take it all, baby… that’s my good girl.”

He stayed inside you for a few long moments, panting against your neck, before slowly pulling out. A thick trickle of his cum leaked from your used hole. Without hesitation, Jake moved lower, spreading your thighs even wider. Heeseung’s eyes darkened further as he watched Jake lean in and drag his tongue through your folds, licking up his own release mixed with your wetness in long, filthy strokes. Jake moaned softly against your pussy, cleaning you thoroughly with his mouth while his hands held you open.

“So fucking pretty when you’re full of me,” Jake whispered, sucking gently on your clit before licking deeper. “My perfect girl.”

And one thing was certain. This may have been exactly like the plot of a 90s porno movie. But Jake’s secret was also yours now. And Heeseung’s. And it would stay that way. Because this certainly wasn't the last time Heeseung would be coming over. If anything, it was only the beginning

(Masterlist)

Meanwhile, Sunghoon started dating one of your close friends, Sooha. She was sweet, bubbly, and had always gotten along with him during group hangouts. Seeing them together at first stung like hell, but you told yourself it was for the best. Everyone moved on. Or so it seemed.

The problem was the friend group. You all ran in the same circle, mutual friends from the industry, trainees, dancers, and staff who loved throwing parties, dinners, and weekend getaways. No matter how hard you tried, you and Sunghoon kept crossing paths. At first, it was awkward. Polite nods, short conversations, avoiding eye contact. But the tension never died. It only grew.

Every time you saw him, memories flooded back. The way his large hands used to grip your hips. How he’d pin you against the wall and kiss you until your knees buckled. The low groan he made when he was deep inside you. The way he’d look at you with those sharp, dark eyes right before he made you come. And you knew he felt it too. You’d catch him staring at your legs in short dresses, or the curve of your ass when you bent over. His jaw would tighten, and he’d quickly look away, especially when Heeseung was right beside you with an arm around your waist, or when Sooha was laughing and clinging to his arm.

The air between you two was always thick, charged and dangerous.

It started small. A house party six months after you and Heeseung became official. Sunghoon and Sooha had been dating for three months. The music was loud, drinks were flowing. You were in a tight dress that hugged every curve. Sunghoon couldn’t stop glancing at you. When you passed each other in the narrow hallway on the way to the bathroom, your bodies brushed. Just shoulders and hips, but it was enough. You felt him, hard, warm, familiar, and your breath hitched. He froze for half a second, eyes darkening, before muttering a low “sorry” and continuing. That night you rode Heeseung like you were possessed, but it was Sunghoon’s face you saw when you came.

Another time, at a beach trip with the whole group. Sunghoon was shirtless in the water, water dripping down his toned abs and sharp v-line. You were in a bikini. Heeseung was building sandcastles with friends, Sooha was napping under an umbrella. You and Sunghoon ended up wading in the shallows at the same time. The waves pushed you closer. His hand accidentally grazed your waist as he steadied you. Electricity shot through your body. Your nipples hardened instantly under the thin fabric. You saw the bulge in his swim trunks grow. Neither of you said a word. You both swam away, hearts pounding, bodies aching.

These encounters kept happening. Birthday parties, award after-parties, late-night karaoke sessions. Every time, you’d leave the function wet and throbbing, panties soaked, thighs clenched. You knew he was going home hard too, probably fucking Sooha while thinking about you. The guilt was there, but the desire was stronger.

One particular night, it became unbearable.

It was a small, intimate gathering at a friend’s luxurious apartment. Only twelve people. Heeseung was there, sitting beside you on the couch, his hand resting possessively on your thigh. Sunghoon and Sooha were across the room. The lights were dim, music soft. Someone suggested truth or dare. Stupid idea. When it was your turn, someone dared you to sit on Sunghoon’s lap for three minutes. The room erupted in laughter. “For old times’ sake!” they joked, not knowing how deep the cut went.

You hesitated. Heeseung chuckled and nodded, thinking it was harmless. Sooha looked a little uncomfortable but played along. Sunghoon’s eyes met yours, dark, warning, hungry.

You sat on his lap.

The moment your ass settled over his crotch, you felt him. He was already half-hard. As the timer started, his hands rested lightly on your hips to “steady” you. His cock twitched beneath you, growing thicker and harder against the thin fabric of your dress and his pants. You were wearing nothing but a tiny thong underneath. You could feel every inch of him pressing right against your clothed cunt. Heat flooded you. Your clit throbbed. You shifted slightly, “accidentally,” grinding down on him. He exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers tightening on your hips. His cock was fully hard now, thick and long, the same shape you remembered so well. You were soaking through your thong, your juices starting to wet the front of his pants.

Three minutes felt like eternity. Torture. Bliss. When the timer ended, you stood up on shaky legs. Sunghoon’s eyes were nearly black. A small wet spot was visible on his thigh where you’d been sitting. He quickly adjusted himself. You excused yourself to the bathroom, locked the door, and leaned against it, breathing hard, your pussy was dripping, you wanted to cum so badly it hurt.

That night, after the party, Heeseung fucked you in his car before you even got home. You came twice, but it wasn’t enough.

Two days later, you were alone in your apartment. Heeseung was away for a schedule. The memory of sitting on Sunghoon’s lap had been haunting you. You took a long shower, trying to calm down, but your body was on fire. After drying off, you opened your drawer and found it, the pale pink satin slip Sunghoon used to love.

It was short, silky, with thin straps and a deep neckline. The hem barely covered your ass. There was a high slit on the left side that went almost to your hip. He used to push the strap down, suck on your tits while fucking you in it. You hadn’t worn it since the breakup.

Tonight, you slipped it on. The fabric felt cool and luxurious against your heated skin. Your nipples were already stiff, poking obviously through the thin material. You stood in front of the full-length mirror in your bedroom, dim lights on. The slip clung to your body, the hem riding up to show the bottom curve of your ass.

You climbed onto your bed, heart racing with guilt and excitement. This was wrong. So fucking wrong. Heeseung was your boyfriend. Sunghoon was his best friend. He was dating Sooha, your friend. But you couldn’t stop.

You lay back against the pillows, knees bent, legs slightly spread. Your hand slowly trailed up your body. You cupped one breast through the satin, squeezing it gently. A soft moan escaped your lips. You imagined Sunghoon’s large hand instead, bigger, rougher. You pinched your nipple, rolling it between your fingers the way he used to. The sensation shot straight to your core.

“Oh god…” you whispered.

Your other hand slid down, pushing the hem of the slip higher. The slit on the side made it easy. You parted your thighs wider, exposing your bare, dripping pussy. You were soaked. Your fingers brushed over your swollen clit, and your hips jerked.

In your mind, it was Sunghoon touching you.

You pictured his sharp jaw, his intense eyes looking down at you. The way he’d smirk when he felt how wet you were for him. You imagined his long fingers replacing yours, two thick digits sliding inside you while his thumb circled your clit. You pushed two fingers into your tight heat, moaning louder. The slick sounds filled the room as you pumped them slowly, curling them just right.

Your other hand kept playing with your tits, pulling the strap down so one breast spilled out. You pinched and tugged your nipple harder, imagining Sunghoon’s mouth on it, sucking, biting, licking.

“Sunghoon…” you breathed, even though you knew you shouldn’t say his name. It felt too good. You added a third finger, stretching yourself, fucking yourself deeper. Your hips rolled, grinding against your hand. The satin slip bunched around your waist now. You were completely exposed, legs spread obscenely, fingers plunging in and out of your creamy pussy.

You thought about that night on his lap. How hard he’d been. How big he felt. You imagined pulling his cock out right there in front of everyone, sinking down on it, riding him while the party continued. You imagined him bending you over in the bathroom after, slamming into you from behind, hand over your mouth to keep you quiet while he filled you up.

Your fingers moved faster. The heel of your palm rubbed your clit with every thrust. Your other hand switched to your other breast, squeezing hard, twisting the nipple. Pleasure built rapidly, hot and intense.

You were so close.

In your fantasy, Sunghoon was on top of you, thrusting deep, whispering how much he missed your tight pussy, how no one fucked him like you did. You imagined his hips snapping harder, his balls slapping against you, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside.

“Fuck—Sunghoon—yes—” you moaned, voice breaking.

Your orgasm crashed over you violently. Your back arched off the bed, thighs shaking. Your pussy clenched hard around your fingers, gushing wetly. You kept fingering yourself through it, drawing it out, riding every wave. Juices dripped down your ass onto the sheets. The slip was ruined with sweat and your arousal.

Even after you came, you kept your fingers inside, gently stroking as the aftershocks rolled through you. Your chest heaved. Guilt tried to creep in, but the pleasure was too strong, too addictive.

You knew you’d do this again. You couldn’t help it. The tension between you and Sunghoon was only getting worse. Sooner or later, something was going to break.

But for now, in the quiet of your room, wearing the slip he used to love, you let yourself drift in the fantasy of him, your ex, your boyfriend’s best friend, your friend’s boyfriend, fucking you senseless the way only he knew how.

—

A few weeks had passed since that night you spent alone in your apartment. The guilt had lingered for days afterward, especially when Heeseung came back from his schedule and kissed you so sweetly, completely unaware of whose name you’d moaned. But the ache between your legs never fully went away. Every time you saw Sunghoon in the group chat or caught a glimpse of him at a quick schedule overlap, the memory of his hardened cock pressing against you during truth or dare flooded back.

Tonight was another mutual friend’s birthday party, held at a spacious rooftop venue. The city lights glittered below like scattered diamonds, and the air was warm with late spring humidity. Fairy lights and soft neon accents bathed the space in a seductive glow. Music pulsed from hidden speakers, R&B and deep house tracks that made bodies move instinctively. About thirty people were there: dancers, idols, staff, and close industry friends. The drinks flowed freely, champagne, soju cocktails, whiskey on ice.

You arrived with Heeseung, dressed in a dangerously short, deep burgundy silk dress that clung to your curves and ended high on your thighs. The thin straps left your shoulders bare, and the low back dipped dangerously close to the curve of your ass. Heeseung had complimented you endlessly in the car, his hand sliding up your leg the whole ride. But the moment you stepped onto the rooftop, your eyes found Sunghoon across the crowd.

He looked devastating. Black button-up shirt with the top few buttons undone, revealing the sharp lines of his collarbones and the beginning of his toned chest. Tailored black pants that hugged his long legs and narrow waist. His dark hair was styled messily, falling over his sharp eyes. Sooha wasn’t there, she’d texted the group earlier saying she felt sick and was staying home. Heeseung, oblivious as ever, spotted Jay and Jake almost immediately and gave your waist a quick squeeze. “I’ll be back in a bit, baby. They want to talk about the new choreography.” He kissed your cheek and disappeared into a group of guys near the bar.

You were alone, and Sunghoon noticed. The tension started immediately.

You felt his gaze like a physical touch the second you walked toward the open bar. When you turned to order a drink, a strong soju cocktail with peach, he was already watching you from a few meters away, leaning against a high table with a glass in his hand. His eyes dragged slowly down your body: lingering on the way the silk hugged your breasts, the exposed skin of your thighs, the way your hips swayed when you walked. You met his stare boldly, heart racing, and took a long sip. The alcohol burned pleasantly down your throat.

For the next hour, it was a game of stolen glances and near-misses.

You danced with some girlfriends on the makeshift dance floor, laughing as you moved your hips to the rhythm. But every time you turned or dipped low, you felt him. Sunghoon stayed on the edge of the crowd, talking to a few guys, but his attention never left you. You caught him staring at your ass when you bent slightly to adjust your heel. His jaw clenched. When you licked a drop of drink from your lower lip, his eyes darkened.

You grew tipsy. Then drunk. The cocktails hit harder than expected, warmth spreading through your veins, loosening your limbs, making your skin feel hypersensitive. Your cheeks flushed. Your pussy already felt warm and slick just from the weight of his gaze.

Heeseung was still deep in conversation with Jay and Jake on the far side of the rooftop, laughing loudly, safe, distracted.

Sunghoon finally moved closer during a slower song. You were at the bar getting another drink when he appeared beside you, ordering a whiskey. His arm brushed yours. The contact sent electricity shooting through your body.

“Looking dangerous tonight,” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear. His breath ghosted over your bare shoulder.

You turned your head, lips parted. “You’re one to talk.”

Your eyes locked. The air between you crackled. For a moment, it felt like the rest of the party disappeared. His gaze dropped to your mouth, then lower, watching your chest rise and fall. You pressed your thighs together, already feeling yourself getting wet.

The night blurred deliciously after that.

You danced again, this time with a mixed group. Sunghoon joined casually, keeping a safe distance at first. But the music grew slower, more sensual. Bodies moved closer. You swayed your hips, feeling the alcohol make you bold. Every time you turned, your eyes met his. He watched the way your dress rode up your thighs. You watched the way his shirt stretched across his broad shoulders when he moved.

Another song, you danced near him, shoulders brushed, then hips. He smelled like whiskey and that familiar cologne that used to drive you crazy, your head felt light, body hot.

Finally, the moment broke. A slow, heavy R&B track started playing. The kind that made people grind without shame. Most of the group had paired off or were lost in their own conversations. Heeseung was still occupied. Sunghoon stepped behind you without a word.

You didn’t resist. His tall frame pressed against your back as you both started swaying to the music. Your ass nestled perfectly against his crotch. Even through the layers of fabric, you could feel him, already semi-hard, thickening rapidly as you moved together.

“Fuck…” he breathed against your ear, so quietly it was almost lost in the music.

His hands settled on your hips at first, guiding you. The dance was filthy. You rolled your body against him, grinding slowly, deliberately. His cock grew fully hard, long and thick, pressing right between your ass cheeks through his pants. You bit your lip to hold back a moan.

The crowd around you was drunk and distracted. No one was paying attention to the exes dancing far too intimately. Sunghoon grew bolder.

One of his hands trailed down your side, fingers brushing the hem of your short dress. He leaned his head down, lips grazing the side of your neck. Not quite kissing, just hot breath and the faintest brush of his mouth. Your skin erupted in goosebumps.

“You’re driving me insane,” he whispered, voice rough with lust. “Been hard since I saw you in this dress.”

You pushed back against him harder, feeling his cock throb. “Then do something about it.”

His hand slipped lower. While your bodies continued swaying sensually to the slow beat, your ass grinding in slow circles against his erection, his fingers crept under the hem of your dress from behind. The rooftop was dimly lit here, and his tall frame mostly shielded you.

He found the edge of your tiny black lace panties. You were soaked. Dripping. His middle finger traced the wet fabric covering your pussy, pressing lightly against your swollen folds through the lace.

You gasped softly, knees weakening.

Sunghoon’s lips finally pressed against your neck, open-mouthed, hot and wet. He sucked gently, then harder, teeth grazing your skin as his finger pushed the lace aside. The pad of his long finger slid directly along your slick pussy lips, parting them, collecting your arousal.

“Shit, you’re drenched,” he groaned quietly against your neck, voice vibrating through you. “This pussy still gets this wet for me?”

You nodded frantically, biting back moans as you kept swaying with him, pretending it was just a dance. His cock was rock-hard, grinding slowly against your ass in time with the music.

He pushed one thick finger inside you without warning. Your walls clenched around it instantly, sucking him deeper. The wet sound was faint but filthy under the music. He added a second finger, stretching you, curling them perfectly against that spot he knew so well.

His mouth worked on your neck, kissing, licking, sucking hard enough to leave marks you’d have to hide later. His free hand gripped your hip tightly, holding you against him as he fingered you deeper, faster. His palm rubbed against your clit with every thrust of his fingers.

You were trembling. Pleasure built rapidly, hot and overwhelming. Your juices coated his hand, dripping down his wrist. The silk of your dress bunched up further. Anyone looking closely might have seen, but the risk only made it hotter. “Sunghoon…” you whimpered under your breath.

He bit your earlobe. “Missed this tight little cunt. Missed how you fall apart for me.”

His fingers pumped faster, curling relentlessly. The heel of his hand ground against your swollen clit. Your orgasm crashed into you without mercy, hard, sudden, devastating. Your pussy spasmed violently around his fingers, gushing slick arousal down his hand and onto your thighs. You moaned softly, body shaking as he held you upright, still swaying slowly to the music like nothing was happening.

He didn’t stop. He kept fingering you through it, drawing out every wave until your legs felt like jelly. When it finally subsided, he slowly withdrew his fingers, bringing them up to his mouth behind you. You heard him suck them clean with a low, satisfied groan.

The song ended. You turned in his arms, flushed, breathing hard, eyes glassy with lust and alcohol. His eyes were nearly black with desire, lips parted, chest rising fast. His cock was straining obscenely against his pants. Neither of you spoke. The tension had finally snapped.

You both knew this was only the beginning of the night.

The song faded out, but the heat between you didn’t. Your legs were still shaky from the orgasm he’d just pulled from you on the dance floor. Sunghoon’s chest was pressed flush against your back, his breath hot against your ear as he spoke in a low, rough whisper.

“We need to go somewhere private. Right now.” His voice was strained with barely contained lust. “Before I bend you over in front of everyone.”

You didn’t even hesitate. The alcohol and adrenaline made you bold. You gave him the smallest nod, and he immediately took your hand, guiding you through the crowd with purposeful strides. Heeseung was still laughing with Jay and Jake near the bar, completely unaware. Sooha was safe at home. No one noticed as the two of you slipped inside the luxurious indoor section of the venue.

The bathroom was a single, spacious unisex room, dimly lit, marble counters, a large mirror above the sink. The second the door clicked shut and locked, all restraint vanished.

Sunghoon was on you instantly. He spun you around and pulled your back flush against his chest, positioning both of you in front of the mirror. Your eyes met in the reflection, his dark and feral, yours glassy and desperate. His hands were rough with urgency as he yanked the hem of your short burgundy dress up over your hips in one swift motion, bunching the silk around your waist.

“Fuck,” he growled, staring at your reflection. Your tiny black lace panties were soaked through, the fabric clinging obscenely to your swollen pussy lips.

His right hand slid down immediately, fingers slipping under the waistband of your panties. Two long, thick fingers dragged through your slick folds, parting them, coating themselves in your wetness. He pressed them against your clit first, rubbing slow, firm circles that made your hips jerk.

A broken moan spilled from your lips. “Ah—Sunghoon…”

He relished it. His eyes darkened further in the mirror as he watched your face contort in pleasure. “That’s it. Let me hear you moan for me again.”

He pushed those two fingers deep inside you without warning, burying them to the knuckle in your dripping heat. Your walls clenched hard around the intrusion, still sensitive from the earlier orgasm on the dance floor. He curled them instantly, stroking that perfect spot he knew better than anyone.

Your head fell back against his shoulder, another loud moan escaping you. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers pumping into your soaked pussy filled the bathroom.

Your hands moved behind you with frantic need. You palmed the massive bulge straining against his tailored pants, feeling how hard and hot he was. Sunghoon hissed sharply as you squeezed him through the fabric. With trembling fingers, you tugged his zipper down, reaching inside to pull his thick cock out.

He was rock hard, veins pulsing, the head already glistening with precum. The familiar weight and girth made your mouth water. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking from base to tip in long, firm pumps exactly the way he liked it.

“Shit—yes,” he groaned, hips bucking into your fist. His fingers fucked you harder, faster, plunging in and out while his palm rubbed relentlessly against your clit. The mirror gave you both a perfect view of everything, your flushed face, your tits nearly spilling out of your dress, his hand disappearing between your thighs, your smaller hand working his cock desperately.

You pumped him faster, twisting your wrist at the head, spreading his precum down his shaft. Every time you squeezed him, his fingers would thrust deeper into you, like a filthy feedback loop. Your moans mixed with his low grunts.

“Look at yourself,” he demanded, voice hoarse. His free hand came up to grip your jaw, forcing you to watch your reflection. “Look how fucking desperate you are for me. Dripping all over my fingers while your boyfriend’s right outside.”

The words only made you wetter. You whimpered loudly, stroking him quicker, feeling his cock throb and twitch in your hand. His fingers curled and scissored inside you, stretching you open, hitting that spot over and over until your thighs started shaking.

You were both lost in it, driven by pure, pent-up lust. The sound of his fingers plunging into your creamy pussy mixed with the slick sound of your hand jerking his cock. Your juices were dripping down his wrist and onto the marble floor.

“I’m gonna—fuck, Sunghoon—I’m close again,” you gasped, eyes half-lidded in the mirror.

He leaned down, biting the side of your neck hard as his fingers sped up. “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers like the dirty little slut you are for your ex.”

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, then a loud, broken moan tore from your throat as your pussy clenched violently around his fingers, gushing slick arousal all over his hand. Your knees buckled, but he held you up, still fucking you through it with his fingers while you frantically stroked his cock.

Sunghoon groaned deeply, hips stuttering as your orgasm pushed him over the edge too. Thick ropes of cum shot from his cock, spilling over your hand and onto the sink counter as he came hard. For a few long seconds, the only sounds were heavy breathing and the faint bass of the music outside.

You both stared at each other in the mirror, flushed, messy, and still hungry.

This wasn’t going to end here. The bathroom air was thick with the scent of sex, your arousal and his cum. You were both still panting, staring at each other through the mirror. Sunghoon’s fingers were still buried inside you, lazily stroking through the aftershocks while your hand was covered in his release.

Without a word, you slowly turned around and sank to your knees on the cool marble floor in front of him. His cock was still hard, glistening with cum and your spit from earlier strokes. You looked up at him with hazy, lust-drunk eyes as you wrapped your fingers around the base.

You leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his swollen tip, tasting the salty remnants of his orgasm. Sunghoon’s breath hitched sharply, one hand immediately threading into your hair.

“Fuck… you’re really gonna do this?” he rasped, voice wrecked.

You answered by parting your lips and taking him into your mouth. You sucked on the head first, swirling your tongue around it, cleaning every drop of cum. Then you sank deeper, relaxing your throat to take as much of his thick length as you could. The familiar stretch of your lips around him made you moan around his cock.

Sunghoon groaned loudly, hips twitching. “That’s it… just like that, baby.”

You bobbed your head, sucking him eagerly, hollowing your cheeks. Your hand worked what you couldn’t fit in your mouth, stroking him in time with your movements. The wet, sloppy sounds echoed obscenely in the bathroom as you deepthroated him again and again, eyes watering, spit dripping down your chin.

He watched you through the mirror above, the sight of you on your knees in that tiny burgundy dress driving him crazy. His grip tightened in your hair as he started fucking your throat gently.

“Missed this pretty mouth so fucking much,” he growled.

You moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, growing even harder. His breathing turned ragged.

“Shit—I’m gonna cum again—”

You didn’t pull away. You took him as deep as possible, looking up at him with teary eyes. Sunghoon cursed loudly as he came down your throat, thick spurts of hot cum shooting straight into your stomach. You swallowed every drop, milking him until he was shuddering and oversensitive.

He pulled you up roughly by your arms and spun you around, bending you over the marble sink. Your hands braced against the counter, eyes locked on your own reflection, flushed face, swollen lips, messy hair. Sunghoon yanked your dress up again and ripped your soaked panties down your thighs in one motion.

He rubbed his still-hard cock between your dripping folds, teasing your entrance. Then he pushed in, one long, powerful thrust and he buried himself to the hilt inside you.

Both of you moaned loudly at the same time. “Oh my god! Sunghoon…” you cried out, the stretch overwhelming after so long apart.

“Fuck—your pussy… still so tight,” he groaned through gritted teeth, eyes squeezed shut for a moment. The feeling of your warm, velvety walls clenching around him made his knees weak. “I missed this so fucking bad.”

He gave you only a second to adjust before he started moving, deep, hard strokes that slammed into you with every thrust. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the bathroom as he fucked you against the sink. Your tits bounced heavily inside your dress with every powerful snap of his hips.

Sunghoon reached around and yanked the front of your dress down, letting your breasts spill free. His large hands immediately grabbed them, squeezing and kneading roughly just like he used to. His fingers pinched and rolled your sensitive nipples, tugging them as he pounded into you harder.

“Look in the mirror,” he demanded, voice low and filthy. “Watch how I’m fucking you.”

You obeyed, eyes glazed with pleasure as you watched his reflection. His sharp jaw was clenched, dark eyes burning into yours through the glass. One hand stayed on your tit, playing with it possessively, while the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

He fucked you relentlessly, cock dragging against every sweet spot inside you. The angle had him hitting so deep you felt him in your stomach. Your moans were loud and broken, impossible to hold back.

“Sunghoon—ahh—fuck, you’re so deep—”

He leaned over you, biting your shoulder as he played with your tits and slammed into you. “This pussy is mine. Always been mine.”

The pleasure built fast and brutal. Your second orgasm ripped through you without warning, your walls fluttering and clenching around his cock like a vice. You cried out his name as you came, juices dripping down your thighs.

The feeling pushed Sunghoon over the edge right after you.

With a deep, guttural groan, he buried himself as deep as possible and came hard inside you. Thick ropes of cum flooded your pussy, filling you up completely. He kept thrusting through it, pushing his load deeper, claiming you in the most primal way.

For a long moment, you both stayed like that, his cock still buried inside you, his hands still groping your tits, both of you breathing heavily as you stared at each other in the mirror.

Reality slowly crept back in. Heeseung was somewhere outside. Sooha was waiting at home. But neither of you could bring yourselves to care yet. Sunghoon pressed a messy kiss to the back of your neck, still twitching inside your cum-filled pussy.

“We’re not done tonight,” he whispered darkly. “Not even close.”

that’s his favourite part—he’s so sensitive to sounds, all kinds of them, especially the soft and slow ones that trigger his senses just right. it’s only normal that he creates his own and shares them online. 

most of the time, the videos are made from his point of view, driving his cock into you while you’re on your back, his t-shirt falling over his hips and your skirt rolled up to your waist. it’s always messy and sloppy, niki panting above you, his right hand holding his phone and the other gripping your thigh around his hip, capturing the way your pussy gushes around him, soaking wet with your slicks. “do you hear that?” he says, his deep voice low and breathy, just loud enough for the mic to pick it up. he looks at you, something that only you can see, his brows raised on his forehead. “pussy’s all wet for me. i bet they hear it, too,” he smiles lazily. 

you usually respond to him with a moan or a whine, asking him to go faster or deeper, depending on how close you are to your orgasm. niki loves a good creampie, and once he’s released himself inside of you, he shows it to the camera, pulling out and recording his white, sticky cum dripping down from your swollen pussy. he either swipes a finger through your folds or teases your clit, a high-pitched gasp leaving your lips, your hole still quivering from the loss of your boyfriend’s cock. 

niki likes to caption his posts with something nasty, sometimes a little degrading, but always emphasizing that you’re his. a video like this, he’ll caption it ‘my gf’s too dumb to understand what i’m doing to her’—a little bit mean, but niki means it lovingly. it’s not your fault if you always end up babbling nonsense to him, barely able to align two words together, reaching to grab his t-shirt like you’ll actually lose your mind if you don’t. do you really know what he’s doing to you? he’s not sure—probably not, but you like it, that’s for sure. 

he knows you by heart, and fucked dumb like this, anything can trigger a moan out of you. he kisses your neck, sucks on your tits, bites your nipples, adds pressure to your clit with his thumb. you make the sweetest sounds, ones he loves to listen to while he jerks off to the videos of you two. he can’t help it, it makes blood rush to his cock so fast his boner becomes unbearable. 

niki always needs you wet to the point you soak through your underwear, completely ruining it with your arousal. it’s just no fun if your pussy isn’t making those cute squelching noises when he’s got you stuffed with his fingers. that’s why foreplay is so important to niki—he never, ever skips it. 

he records the both of you making-out, playing with each other’s tongues, licking your bottom lip and trapping it between his teeth. only your mouths and the bottom of your faces are visible, but it’s all it needs to be filthy, smacking and kissing sounds echoing in the room. niki grunts, your lips closing around the tip of his tongue then shoving your own inside his mouth, taking him by surprise, but not for long. he puts his free hand around your throat, feeling the vibrations under his palm as you whimper, slightly crying when he fights back for control, easily dominating you with his lips and tongue. 

a video of you making-out can last for more than a minute sometimes, niki doesn’t even want to cut a second out of it—these types of posts tend to perform the best anyway. he keeps the bits where your hair get stuck to your lips and you have to pull it away, or when he detaches his lips from yours to catch his breath, saying something about how pretty you look. usually, he captions it as ‘training sessions’.

but, as he calls it, training sessions include more than just kissing—it’s about dry humping, too. to make it more practical, niki sets his phone on the coffee table in front of the couch, filming your body straddling his, your clothed cunt rubbing against the front of his jeans. he can’t help but moan, a hoarse sound coming from his throat, mingling in with your small pants. “needy girl,” he teases lovingly, his hands guiding your hips over his bulge, helping you get the friction that you need to reach your high. your faces are hidden, but with the sounds of your moans muffled and of your lips smacking, it’s easy to imagine what you’re doing. “want me so bad, mmh?” niki says between kisses, making you whine out in embarrassment. 

this is when you reach one of your many orgasms, your clit repeatedly rubbing over niki’s hard cock bringing you over the edge. you always throw your arms over his shoulders and hug him close, shaking in his hold as he gently rocks your hips over his until you come down from your high. just to verify, he snakes a hand between your legs and feels your cunt through your panties, noting how damp they already are.

he knows that this could be enough prep, but niki always wants more. he can smell your arousal, how excited and thrilled you are, he just needs to actually get a look for himself—and a taste. the point of view changes to yours, the camera angled down to film below your chest, niki’s blond head of hair placed between your legs. he doesn’t look up—unless the bottom half of his face is buried in your cunt—so his face isn’t shown and his hair beautifully frames his forehead, tickling your thighs. 

he removes your panties so slowly so that he can stare at the way the fabric sticks to your pussy, wet and dripping in your release. the phone is always shaky in your hands, but your mouth being so close to the mic, all of your little noises are recorded, to niki’s pleasure. eating you out might be his favourite thing ever after making you cum around his dick—it makes you so wet, he almost drowns in it, no exaggeration. your glistening folds in his mouth, head squeezed between your thighs, your nails grazing his scalp, are everything that make this moment so incredibly hot. he could live happily there. 

he holds your thighs up, spits on you, blows on your sensitive sex, smirks when your hips roll, trying to grind against something. he feels proud, knowing he’s the one making you this desperate, this needy for him, for the simple contact of his mouth on your cunt. he makes the most noises possible, slurping your folds and sucking on your clit, plunging two fingers inside of you. it’s almost diabolical how much you cry from all the love niki’s giving to your pussy because it sounds like he’s torturing you. but honestly, it’s in no comparaison to when he fucks you with his cock. 

it happens that you’re a little forgetful and don’t go to the bathroom for most of the day. they are all accidents, you say, but niki finds himself purposefully triggering them. the title is something along the lines of ‘helping my gf to pee’ because that’s quite literally what he’s doing. he already has his cock inside of you, toying with your clit at the same time, crying over and over again that you’re about to pee and he needs to stop, but he doesn’t. when you let go, unable to hold your bladder anymore, he praises you for it. “fuck, such a good girl,” he softly coos, impressed by how much there is, “all that for me?” 

niki does his best to record everything, but as he drives his cock into you, your pee coming out and wetting yourself, he feels his balls tightening, the coil in his stomach snapping. he quickly pulls out and jerks himself above you, shooting his hot cum onto your cunt, dirtying you even more.

—-

unfair of me to talk about the lack of nct fics and post enha content but i've wanted to write for niki for a while :( also, my piss kink obsession is showing and i'm sorry, i did some self-discovery ig lol

You had an habit of chickening out of shit, whether it meant going through with asking for a well deserved promotion at your job during negotiations, or asking that one friend you haven't seen in months to maybe go get coffee at the new spot down the block. Or, well, the worst of them all, sticking around Heeseung when you both knew he was no good for you. So it's not surprising that you found the courage to go up to the boys with nothing in your way, and still chose to not ring the doorbell, make yourself as small as possible on the 'oh no, not you again' doormat, feet shuffling with the itch to turn your back and pretend nothing happened.

Heeseung cheating didn't exactly come as a shock to you. All your life you thought your boyfriend breaking your trust in the worst possible way would've completely destroyed you, but the truth is that what you were feeling in that moment was anything but.

It didn't feel good, of course. But in the back of your mind you'd long given up on him and his pitiful attempts to 'make things right', just to fuck up once again. It was small things at first, like forgetting things you'd told him, getting your preferences mixed up, canceling on a date because work got too tiring for him. Not nice, but understandable enough, you'd told yourself it was the honeymoon phase fading away, and you just needed to find that spark again.

Except it became clear that Heeseung had no interest in taking that journey with you, but still wouldn't let you go completely. The months you laid awake, waiting for him to show up with an explanation that would have it all make sense. The missed dates, the unanswered calls, the empty apologies and promises of being better the next time around if you just gave him one more chance to make it right. You saw the signs, pretended not to. Thought he'd spare your feelings if you acted just a little less clingy, a little less needy. A little more like the woman Heeseung loves is supposed to act.

All throughout it, your—his—best friends were there for you. Jay's sweet words of comfort, promising you you're just the absolute prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on, and Heeseung is so stupid if he doesn't see it. Respectful advice turned to praise whispered hotly against your neck when you really just needed a hug. Sunghoon's soothing touch which washed all of your worries away lingering more and more as time went on and your boyfriend kept disappointing you. From a warm hand on your shoulder to a firm grip on your thigh, way too close to the hem of your skirt for it to be a coincidence. Both things you could've stopped but really never wished to. Because if Heeseung couldn't be respectful of your relationship, why should you?

Maybe that's why finding out didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. You'd been ready to let go for a while, you just needed an out.

Deep down you knew that was the case when the meetings with your friends became longer and longer, and even if no physical boundaries were crossed, you'd leave whatever place agreed upon with dry tears on your face but panties soaked through like Heeseung never managed to get. Jay's deep and rough tone, Sunghoon's thumb sweetly caressing your skin were just enough, and soon a simple text by one of them had your heart thumping in your chest louder than it would when seeing your boyfriend after days of radio silence. That's why they were the first people you ran to when you found out.

Just as you are about to leave, the creaking sound of the door swinging open and the Jay's surprised hum stop you in your tracks. He looks at you with wide eyes, hair disheveled and pants barely pulled up as if he put them on while rushing to the door, and yet, as gorgeous as ever.

"You left the door unlocked again," you say, unsure, something you have never been in his presence, shifting your weight from one foot to the other like it might ease what you're feeling within you.

Jay breaks into a blinding smile, his usually sharp eyes turning into little moons of delight. He makes space for you to walk inside the tiny apartment he's been sharing with Sunghoon ever since they started college. "You can just walk in," he says, looking at you fondly while you toy with the zipper of your hoodie. "You know you're always welcome."

"It's gonna be someone with not so pure intentions walking in unannounced one day if you guys keep not locking your door."

"Yeah yeah, whatever you say, gorgeous." Sunghoon walks into the living room, sweatpants dangerously low on his hips and no shirt on at all, taking a big swing out of the huge water bottle that somehow looks normally sized in his hands. "Why not ring the doorbell, we could have not heard you." He turns around to look at the digital clock next to the tv. "It is almost 4 am after all."

"I know and I'm sorry for bothering—" you panic at the mention of the time, suddenly aware of how annoying it must be to have anyone show up unannounced when everyone is supposed to be asleep. "I just—"

"You're never a bother, I'm more worried about missing one of your visits someday," Sunghoon says, lifting your chin up with his bottle, giving you a lazy grin when he notices how your eyes trail up from the sparse hair leading down his v-line to his chiseled torso, until you meet his eyes. His scent is musky, clean but thick and intoxicating, and any sensible explanation you had drafted in your mind as you drove to their place seems lost when the other man steps closer too.

Like always, Jay knows you like the back of his hand, and just by the way you're trying to make yourself smaller on their couch, he knows something is up. "Is anything wrong, pretty?"

Seeing the look in your eyes, Sunghoon adds, "Maybe Heeseung's fault?"

You look at both of them, eyes big and your heart pounding so hard in your chest it might be trying to escape. "I need you guys to help me with something."

"Anything, really." Jay's hand finds your thigh, soothing and grounding like nothing else in the world. "Isn't that what friends are for?"

The initial plan was to post a few suggestive stories on your close friends, just enough to piss Heeseung off, because despite it all, you knew he still considered you his. You knew he held a deep conviction that eventually you'd get over it and run back to him. And you couldn't lie, you'd given him enough proof of that time and time again, but you were done for good this time, and you needed a way to really fucking show him.

Pictures taken while kissing, half naked on Sunghoon's king sized bed, others of both of them sucking spots on your neck at the same time, the prettiest bra you owned—one that Heeseung bought you when he still hadn't revealed himself to be a bitch—peeking at the bottom of the screen like joke, Jay's thick fingers covering one of your tits in some of the them and Sunghoon's bite marks on your shoulder in others. All of it ended up getting steamier than you'd expected (but deep down hoped for), and suddenly you where sprawled between crumpled white sheets, mind all fuzzy from the egregious amount of times you already came on either of their faces or fingers, one's features blurring into the other when your eyes started watering so much, everything around you became blurry and undistinguishable.

Your phone is discarded somewhere at the edge of the bed, the pictures long forgotten, and the only reason you know it's Jay with his chest to your back, is because he's whispering sweet nothings right into your ear in the hottest voice you've ever heard from him. You've always found his tone in any other context to be panty soaking, but nothing could've prepared you for how sexy he sounds whispering against your skin while his hands wipe away any tear that slips out of your eyes. "You're all good now, doll. You're doing so fucking well for us, being so brave and strong."

Sunghoon hums in agreement from his spot, one knee on the edge of the bed as he reaches to spread your legs wider to make room for him, but his attention is caught by the sudden wave of vibrating notifications coming from your phone.

"It's Heeseung," he says it like an insult, venom dripping from his mouth.

Your body instantly stiffens at the mention of the name, but Jay is quick to nuzzle his head into your neck and caress your hip with his hand. You watch Sunghoon tap around until the familiar beeping sound of a call reverberates through the room, and you grab Jay's shoulder behind you, heart beating out of your chest.

“He can’t hurt you anymore, you're safe now,” he whispers before taking the shell of your ear in his mouth and biting down on it gently, eliciting an almost inaudible sigh from you.

“Hee, you need something?” Sunghoon's tone is impassive as he kneels again right in front of you, the soft mattress dipping underneath his weight. He puts the call on speaker, allowing you and Jay to also hear the man on the other side of the line.

“What the fuck? Where the fuck is she?” Heeseung’s voice is shaky with anger, and you can clearly spot the presence of a bitter edge in his tone. It might make you think he actually cares for a second or two, except you’re not naive enough to indulge in that fantasy anymore. Not after what he did.

Still, your heart aches for him when you hear his smooth tone through the speaker, a voice you used to love and find safe.

Hoon fixes his gaze on you before replying to Heeseung’s question, “Yes, she’s here right now.” Your eyes widen at his answer. You expected him to deny knowing your whereabouts, end the call and come back to pick up right from where he left off. 

“I have to talk to her. Just a few minutes.”

Jay holds you tighter against his broad chest, the muscles of his arms tensing around you when he feels you try to move out of his grasp, stopping you from scooting closer to Sunghoon. “That’s her decision to make.” 

Sunghoon mutes the call, looking at you expectantly as he waits for you to think your choices through. You have an idea of what the boys might be thinking, and while you’re not completely opposed to the idea, a pang of guilt courses through you at the idea of Heeseung finding out about you fucking your best friends. They’re his too after all.

But you also know he deserves this, he deserves to know how good what he considers to be his lifelong brothers are fucking you. He deserves to feel at least a tenth of what he's put you through this entire time, and if not because you're getting fucked by someone else, then at least he can feel the betrayal of it being Jay and Sunghoon.

As if on cue, they both sense your inner turmoil, and you relax against Jay as the other man dips his head down to press kisses on your lower abdomen and grab the back of your thighs, caressing them slowly.

“Relax, doll,” Jay whispers, lips brushing against your ear and nose nudging the strands of hair next to it.

“Hoon,” you moan quietly. “Want to make him regret everything he ever did to me.”

The man in question grins at you proudly, all of his teeth showing, and you think about how rare of a sight that is. “I’ve got an idea then. But you need to trust us.” He waits for you to nod, and then continues. “You okay with being watched?” 

Your breath hitches in your throat at the lewd suggestion, yet the familiar stab of need in your lower region is enough to help you make up your mind completely. You nod again, this time firmly, as you catch your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Gonna need to hear you say it,” Jay says.

“Want him to watch you two fuck me." Jay's length seems to get impossibly harder underneath you, the press of it on your bottom half the reason you even agreed in the first place. Everything about his touch is intoxicating. "Please.”

"So? Where the fuck is she? Sunghoon this is not a fucking joke. I need to hear her."

"Oh, you'll hear her alright." Sunghoon settles between your legs with the phone still in his hand, and brings it right next to your pussy. Jay reads his mind, the connection between them that you'd always felt was more than just best friends synchronizing their actions and thoughts without even the need to voice any of them out loud, and runs his hand down to the soaking mess between your thighs, his fingers parting your folds slowly as if to make it as noisy as possible.

Heeseung is quiet for a while, but that doesn't stop Jay from slipping his fingers deeper inside of you, slowly working you open once again, aided by all the stickiness of your slick frothing with every thrust of his hand. The sound is unmistakable, and if that wasn't enough, Sunghoon's lip smack on your inner thigh way louder than they should, playing it up for the audience on the other end. "What the fuck?"

"Her pussy is so creamy, Hee. Why have you been keeping it from us?" Sunghoon's ghost of a smile makes your legs twitch around his head. "Or maybe, it only gets like this for me and Jay?"

"You son of a fucking—" He gets cut short as Sunghoon ends the call. He gets up from the bed, walking to the windowsill right in front of it, and sets his phone there, propped up carefully. He hits the video call button, and Heeseung accepts it pathetically fast.

"You two are dead meat when I get my hands on you." Heeseung spits, but Sunghoon turns his back to the phone and rolls his eyes as he makes his way back to the bed, allowing Heeseung to get the perfect view of your naked form spread over Jay's, his hand still lazily playing with your pussy and your hand in his hair.

"Hot, right?" Sunghoon laughs, poking the bear once again.

Heeseung goes silent again for a while, and part of you would pay good money to see his face, but the other cares more about having Sunghoon back between your legs, and Jay's cock inside you as soon as possible.

You think of your boyfriend, floored by the scene in front of him. Pride swelling in your chest knowing his world is slowly crumbling down beneath his feet, and there's nothing he can do about it, no one to turn to because all the people he loves are in the room with you.

On the other side, Heeseung is sat at his desk in the darkness of his room, wondering how the fuck this is happening to him of all people. He wants to end the call and drive to his friends' apartment, knock the door down and beat the living shit out of them, but he can do nothing other than staying frozen in his place, thinking about what the hell is wrong with him for finding the scene playing on his phone screen as hot as he does. You have never looked better, with Jay's thick hands all over your body and pussy dripping onto bedsheets that aren't his.

Before Heeseung can even begin to recover from the shock he’s experiencing, Sunghoon gently reaches for your chin—fingers warm and delicate on your skin—and angles your face towards his, soft eyes holding your gaze reassuringly. He leans down to capture your lips in a delicate kiss, the tenderness of it during such a lewd moment surprising you. His lips are soft and pillowy, and the faintest ghost of his stubble tickles your chin when he angles his head to kiss you deeper. You yelp when he unexpectedly bites your lip, and he takes the chance to slide his tongue in your mouth, savoring your sweet taste. One of his hands cups your face while the other travels down your body, groping any inch of flesh he can reach, the contrast between the slow movements of his tongue and the roughness of his touch leaving you dizzy, putty in his hands. He draws back for a moment, smiling when he notices your mouth chase after his lips, “I think Jay might be feeling a little left out.” 

You look over your shoulder to the other man, teeth caging your bottom lip when you find him already smiling in that sickly sweet way of his.

"Hi there, pretty." Jay teases, playful but tender. "Forgot about me?"

You shake your head, a smile of your own spreading on your face, angling yourself better so he can kiss you too. It's slow but intense, lips moving against the other with no rush at all, the only focus on savoring the taste shared between you two. He pecks your bottom lip time and time again, then runs his tongue on it in a silent ask of permission, and when you part your lips so obediently for him, Jay can't help but whisper a 'good girl' before licking away at your mouth.

Sunghoon puts himself to good use while you and Jay enjoy yourselves, grabbing the base of the other man's cock and pumping a few times, making him moan lowly in your mouth. He makes it a point to move to the side, making sure Heeseung gets a full view of him slapping Jay's cock on your entrance multiple times, ripping out little whines from you while the man hisses at the feeling of Sunghoon’s touch, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Sunghoon brings his hand to your mouth and you immediately let some of your spit dribble down in his palm, so he can use the wetness to jerk off Jay a few times, the latter letting a guttural moan from his throat as he throws his head back and pushes his hips against Sunghoon’s hand.

The hot sensation in your stomach feels unbearable as you watch the scene in front of you unfold, you open your mouth to try to get the men’s attention on you again but you’re cut off by Sunghoon positioning Jay’s thick cock against your hole once again as he pushes it inside slightly, enough to have you whimper and wiggle your hips for more. Sunghoon huffs out a laugh at how sensitive and needy you are despite all the times you've come already, but taps your clit a few times with his index as Jay finishes pushing into you completely.

You and Jay moan into each other's mouth at the feeling of his cock splitting you open. He's thick, thicker than you have ever had, and the stretch despite how much they prepped you before this is absolutely mouth watering. He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust on him, moulding your insides with his thickness like you were made to broken in by him.

You’re so into the moment you don’t notice Sunghoon sneaking down, and suddenly you feel something wet inside you other than Jay’s cock. 

You make the mistake of looking down, only to find the sinful image of Sunghoon’s tongue pushing inside your cunt as he grabs the other man’s balls with his hands, slowly massaging them.

Your moans get even louder, and Sunghoon giggles against your sensitive cunt. He takes a load of wetness gushing right in his mouth and comes up from between your legs to harshly grab your hair, pulling you into a messy kiss, releasing the mix in his mouth into yours.

"Feels good, yeah?" Sunghoon says once he parts from you, giving you a quick peck on your cheek before sliding his tongue back in your mouth to lap up all your sounds as Jay starts thrusting into you gently. "You look so pretty like this, doll. Stuffed full of Jay's cock, you're gonna look even better stuffed with both of you. You want that, right?"

You nod desperately, slick from your earlier highs running down your thigh and coating Jay's balls. His thrusts are slow and shallow, teasing you to the point it's unbearable. You need more, so much more, so you grab one of his hands resting on your waist, and bring it down to your clit, silently pleading him. He clicks his tongue but complies, rough thumb drawing tight circles on your clit.

Sunghoon's kiss is messy and wet, his own lust peeking through his composure. A mixture of your spit and his dribbles down your chin until he licks it up again, just to push it into your mouth. "Messy baby," he says against your lips, and it has your cunt clenching around Jay so hard, you almost push him out. He pushes two of his fingers inside you, right next to Jay's cock, and the stretch has you pulling back to gasp in surprise, a string of saliva between your lips, your airy moans filling the room.

Both Sunghoon's fingers and Jay's length drag slowly against your tight walls, the added girth stretching you out so deliciously, you almost get addicted to the sting. It hurts, but it hurts so fucking good, you don't even care. They work you up to another orgasm, and when they feel you start to clench around them harder, your body incapable of staying still on Jay's chest because you feel so good you don't know what to do with yourself, they speed their movements up to anticipate your high.

Jay's mouth finds your earlobe, and he speaks in between gentle bites. "Let go, baby. Show Heeseung how good you look when you cum hard from our touch. He never makes you feel like this, yeah? He can never make you cum like this."

And you do, your breaths get even more ragged as you come around them like your sanity depends on it, eyes shut closed and hands flailing to grab any mass of muscle they can, not caring whether it's one man or the other. You just need something to anchor yourself to not slip away into your pleasure, but they make it so hard, because your orgasm doesn't stop them at all. It spurs them further.

Sunghoon's fingers leave you momentarily while Jay keeps fucking you through your high, and he brings them to Jay's mouth, giving him a taste of your come. You open your eyes when you miss the extra stretch they provided inside you, but the sight of the man behind you lap away at fingers covered in your juices like he's having the sweetest meal he ever has, is enough to tie your stomach in all kind of knots only these two are able to unwrap. Your head is tilted, rested on Jay's shoulders as you watch him mesmerized, and when he opens his eyes again to look at you as he keeps sucking on Sunghoon's fingers, you see the glint that passes through them a second too slow to go unnoticed. He hums at the taste, makes a show out of it until the fingers are squeaky clean, and by the look on his face when he lets go of them, you know he knows exactly what that did to you.

He turns to Sunghoon for a moment, and then wordlessly slips out of you with a grunt, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. Sounds of protest start to bubble in your throat but Jay’s hand harshly grabs your face, his lips smashing with yours to shut you up. “Patience, sweet thing.”

He maneuvers your body so this time your side is facing the phone you had forgotten about once you thought Heeseung had ended the call, which is actually, very much still on. Now that you’re aware of it again, you can make out faint squelching sounds coming from it, and your mouth hangs open at the realization that Lee Heeseung is fucking his fist to the little show you guys have been putting on for him.

Just when you thought he couldn't get any more pathetic.

You want to think you feel utterly insulted by this new information, but all you can find within yourself is deep satisfaction. You’re ecstatic at the thought of how humiliating this must be for him, how pathetic he must feel. You’re itching to make him feel even worse about his situation, so you muster up the most distressed look you can manage and crawl towards Sunghoon.

“Please, Hoonie," you sweet talk your way to him, amping up the shrill in your voice a little. "Want both of you to stuff me full right now, Heeseung has never made me feel this good.” You even wiggle your hips for the camera pointed at you. But doubt creeps up your spine when you're met with a wall.

“You’re putting on a show for Heeseung?”

Your head shoots up to meet his gaze as soon as you hear his mocking tone, a slight arch on one of his eyebrows while he stares at you, clearly amused by your attempt.

“Huh, no I-” you don’t manage to finish your sentence, because Jay interrupts you by grabbing your hips and positioning your body over his, your breasts pushed against his chest this time. His voice is sultry, warm breath fanning over your ear and sending tingles down your spine, “Begging to get fucked like this just to make Heeseung jealous? Isn't this a little shameless?”

The air gets thicker when you realized you made the wrong move, but instead of putting you off, the undertone of danger sends a thrill down your spine.

Sunghoon swiftly unbuckles his belt behind you, the metal clang loud in your ears. “We’ve been so nice to you, and this is how you repay us?”

“I don’t understand—” you feign ignorance, but Jay interrupts you once again, this time his rough hand clasps around your throat and squeezes lightly, just enough to replace your words with a hoarse gasp. He brings you closer to his face, warm breath tickling your own as he speaks, loud enough for you but definitely not for Heeseung to hear. “You’re still thinking about that bastard, acting like this is for him, that’s what the problem is. Is it clear enough now?” 

You struggle to nod in his grasp, prompting him to apply more pressure on your throat.

“Words.” 

“I understand.” you barely manage to choke out, voice raw from being suppressed, even if for such a short amount of time.

He releases your throat, leaving you gasping for air. Sunghoon barely gives any time to recover, and you feel him take hold of your wrists, just one of his hands big enough to keep them in place. He looks at you for a moment and leans his chin towards the discarded belt on the bed before speaking, “Is this okay with you?”

You’re about to nod but remember their insistence on using words, so you opt for a shy “yes” instead. Jay chuckles, fondly brushing his knuckles on your cheekbones. “You were so eager to put on a show just seconds ago. What happened, baby?”

The smooth leather of Sunghoon’s belt is secured tightly around your wrists, bounding them together, but you don't get to pay too much attention to the vaguely uncomfortable feeling of your arms bent back because Jay slides his cock between your soaked folds, collecting some of the wetness on his tip before slipping it in once again, hissing at the sensation of your warm walls welcoming him. “Still so tight, how are you gonna fit both of us, huh?” His hand slides down to grab a handful of your ass, pushing you up and down on his cock. You take the hint and start moving, back arching and hands placed on his chest as leverage to help you ride him.

The space behind you is suddenly empty as Sunghoon stands up and walks towards the windowsill to grab the phone that’s balanced on it. He addresses Heeseung, “Still here? You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Nasty freak.” The smile that takes over his features is almost devilish, not his usual flirtatious grin. “Gonna give you an even better view, one you won’t ever forget.”

Sunghoon points the camera towards you, slipping behind you and giving Heeseung a clear view of you riding Jay. He stills your hips with his other hand for a few seconds before bringing it to Jay’s mouth and signaling to spit on it. He brings his hand back to his cock smears the wetness all over it, fisting himself a few times before aligning it on your entrance, finally pushing in next to Jay.

They both stay still for a moment, loud moans filling the space, savoring the way their cocks fit snugly together inside you, how tight you are around them. You try your best to adjust to their combined girths, the stretch almost unbearable for the first few seconds.

Jay throws his head back against the headboard of the bed and lets out a long drawn out moan. His hand is resting on your waist, and the warmness of it helps you ground yourself. Sunghoon grabs your bound wrists and pushes your front to lay against Jay’s fully, giving himself and Heeseung a perfect view of your overly stretched hole as the man under you starts to thrust up into you.

Heeseung thinks he must have gone insane when he has to physically stifle a moan at the sight of Sunghoon’s hips slowly starting to move, cock dragging next to Jay’s. He feels betrayed, not by you but by them. He wonders how long they have been waiting to stick their weeping cocks inside you, how long they’ve eyed you like prey without him ever noticing, how many nights they must’ve spent fucking their fists thinking about you while he pounded you sweet little cunt. Oh, how the tables turned.

He wants to call them fucking perverts for this, but he’s not in a position to judge anyone. Not when he’s getting off to the sight of your cunt getting stuffed by them. He might be even worse.

The sight on his phone is already lewd, but your cries of pleasure make it so much worse. Never have you sounded like that for him. You’re so fucking wet for them Sunghoon almost accidentally slides out a few times. Heeseung imagines how snug it must feel, how hard you must be clamping around them, and he clenches his fist tighter to mimic the feeling, Adam's apple bobbing as your moans get louder. He wants to be the one fucking you right now so bad, this time he can’t stop one of his own pitiful sobs from escaping.

You’re visibly caught off guard by the sounds he’s making, and when you turn your head back to the camera, Heeseung can’t help but cum without any warning. Angelic eyes so big and glassy, the stark contrast to the sight of your hole getting pounded making him lightheaded. He keeps stroking himself, riding out his orgasm as pathetic whines fall from his lips and thick spurts of hot cum cover his hand, even more shame setting in.

Sunghoon catches you trying to sneak glances at his phone and feels an ugly, sick irritation bubble up in his chest. Why are you still thinking about him?

He yanks you up from the belt, your back colliding with his sweaty, chiseled chest, a surprised yelp leaving your lips at the sudden change of position. His mouth is right next to your ear as he whispers huskily, “Your attention is elsewhere. Are we not fucking you good enough, mh? Still thinking about that little bitch?” 

He drops the phone somewhere on the bed, denying Heeseung of your sight and leaving him with only the sounds and his imagination. The hand that was holding the device teasingly wraps around your throat, his hands are softer than Jay’s and so is his hold, but the mere presence of it makes your stomach flip. “We’ll fuck you so dumb you can barely think at all, let alone pay attention to Heeseung.”

Jay speeds up his pace with no warning, feet planted on the bed and hips slightly lifted to give himself room to match your movements. Sunghoon’s are still slow and sensual, the stretch now way more comfortable and only adding to your pleasure, and you gradually lose yourself in the sensations the two men are providing you, any thought of the red haired man that made your life a living nightmare for months completely out of the window.

“Has anyone ever fucked you this good, pretty girl?” Jay asks, even though he knows the answer to that and just wants to hear you say it. In fact, it’s all you can think about at the moment. How no one has ever fucked you this good, how they’re ruining sex with anyone else for you, how everytime you’re needy you’re just gonna have to go back to them and beg them to do anything to make you cum. How trying to find anyone else to satisfy you after this will be utterly useless.

You eagerly shake your head, eyes closing when you struggle to form coherent words against their onslaught on your poor squelching hole, stretched beyond what you can take, “Fuck—No one ever.” 

Jay chuckles and you feel the vibrations on the skin of your cheek, his lips brushing against it while Sunghoon coos at your enthusiasm. “Is that so, pretty thing. Mhh." His hips stutter for a moment, lip caught between his teeth. "Not even our Heeseung?”

You’re quick to answer. “No, never. No one has.'' You hiccup, the noises coming from your bodies so loud they almost drown out the back and forth happening. They're nasty, so wet and sticky you'd be mortified if you weren't literally horny out of your mind. "So fucking good, your cocks are so good."

This seems to only spur the men further, Jay’s thrusts are somehow faster and Sunghoon’s more precise and deep. The latter grabs your bounded wrists and uses them as leverage to slide you over their cocks, the slick mess between your legs coating their thighs too, and leaves you no room for movement. All you can do is just sit there prettily for them and take it, your mouth falling open and eyes rolling to the back of your head as they use your body to get all three of you off.

“Your cunt was made for our cocks,” Jay grunts in your ear, one of his hands leaving your hips to grab your chin. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

You helplessly clench around them even harder at his words, so snug they can barely move, deep grunts and moans filling the air, the smell of sex intoxicating and hot, humid and clinging to your sweaty and slippery bodies like dew.

You keep milking them, clenching around them like you're trying to suck them in impossibly deeper, like they're not already so deep inside you you feel full all the way to your guts. You're so close, so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue, so close the only words leaving your bitten raw lips are exactly that. "Close, I'm so close. Please Jay, Hoon, ngh." You gasp, trying your best to fuck yourself on their cocks even when they give you no room for movement, but you're greedy like that, and they love every filthy second of it.

"Let go, baby. We got you, let go for us."

You hear the words like they're muffled, too overtaken with pleasure to know who spoke them at all, and your front collapses on Jay’s chest as you come undone in gushes of liquid around them, your vision blinded and hearing muffled for a few seconds from the sheer strength of your bliss. Sunghoon is still holding your bottom up, the slaps of his pelvis against your jiggly ass losing precision and becoming rougher and messier, matching Jay’s erratic ones. You still haven’t come down from your high when you feel Sunghoon’s fingers trace circles on your puffy clit, earning whines of protests from you that are immediately swallowed by Jay’s mouth, his teeth grazing your bottom lip sensually. “Just a little more, you’re doing so good, angel.”

They keep fucking you like that, through tears Jay licks away, and shakes of your body that would have anyone else take pity on you, until your legs give out underneath the pleasure and your hands don't know where to steady themselves. You hit Jay's chest with your palm a few times as the coil in your stomach builds once more, the pain of overstimulation so addicting you greedily want more and more.

"Please, come too.” You sniffle pathetically as more tears form on your lashes. Sobs leave your chest as you gush around for them a second time, your breath knocked out of your chest by the intensity of it and your vision blurring into dark spots. Every single part of your body tingles as your come makes a mess on both of their thighs. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and your gasps for air are proof of it.

"You're so hot," Jay moans, his hips coming to a full stop as he fills you up to the brim with all he has to give, thick spurts of cum coating your insides and Sunghoon's cock.

Sunghoon's mouth hangs open as he feels both of your slick push against his throbbing length, his own release washing over him and stuffing you until a white creamy ring forms at the base of their cocks, gushing out of your cunt in thick ropes.

You're still trying to catch your breath when Sunghoon thrusts into you a few times, fucking you some more just to see more of the pearly white mixture drip out of you, until Jay taps his hips a few time because his sore cock can't take any more stimulation, and you look like you're about to pass out any second.

A mewl leaves your lips when they carefully slid out of you, the emptiness so sudden you found yourself missing the way they filled you completely right away. You're so spent you can barely move, but you manage a small smile when Jay kisses your temple softly, caging you in his arms while Sunghoon grabs a towel from his bathroom to clean up the sticky mess you made.

He retrieves your phone too, taking note of the ended call, before opening the camera app and grabbing your ankles, parting your sore legs as far as you are able to take after all the exertion. He points the camera down and easily slides two fingers back inside your pussy, earning tired weak sounds of protest from you.

“Shh baby, am only showing our Heeseungie what he missed,” he says, lowering his face down to your cunt and replacing his fingers with his tongue. He laps you up, tongue parting your folds and suckling on your clit until your hands weakly hit his shoulders, he takes as much cum as he can in his mouth, then comes up back again until he's face to face with you and kissed you softly, tongue sliding some of the essences in his mouth into yours. He parts from your lips and scoots closer to Jay, repeating the same action.

Butterflies wreak havoc in your stomach when you look at the two man in front of you gently make out, Sunghoon feeding the sticky essence to Jay, his eyes closed and savoring the taste, Adam's apple bobbing up and down when he swallows and licks inside of Sunghoon’s mouth, careful not to miss any drop.

Sunghoon parts from Jay with a sweet smile and then pecks your lips again. He grabs the warm wet towel he had set next to you, finally cleaning you up, careful not to stimulate you any further, but giggling when your hips twitch into his touch. When he's done, he takes you in his arms and walks to the bathroom, setting you down carefully, hands hovering close to your body making sure you can stand up on your own despite how shaky your legs are, before stepping back and signaling you to pee. Your cheeks heat up at his suggestion, earning a full chested laugh from him.

“I just fucked the daylights out of you, and this is what you’re embarrassed about?” He sets a shirt of his and a pair of Jay’s clean underwear on the sink for you to change into before walking out of the room.

You're drowsy by the time you get back in bed with them, Jay whispering sweet nothings in the crown of your hair—sometimes giving you tiny pecks—and Sunghoon with his arms wrapped around your shoulders, one of his hands caressing your arm gently. You have no idea how you let Heeseung get away with treating you like he did when this is what you could have had all along, but you're glad you got here at the end of the day nonetheless. You don’t know how this will change your relationship with everyone involved, but you decide you'll worry about it another time, possibly when you're well rested and not sore all over your body.

BONUS.

You wake up to the sweet scent of breakfast being cooked on the other side of the apartment, your stomach rumbling loudly but nothing compared to the noise pollution coming from beside you, Sunghoon's mouth ajar as he snores his throat off, his hands still wrapped around your body.

Jay peeks his head through the door and beams at you when he finds you awake, he steps into the room in a "best cook cock" apron, stained in all kinds of ways. "Mornin' beautiful. Sleep well?"

You sit up, sneaking out of the grasp around you to stretch your hands above your head, then gesture to Sunghoon. "Not as well as he is."

Your phone still going off catches your attention, and you get up to grab it but Jay does it for you instead, then sits on the bed next to you after giving you a forehead kiss and handing you the device.

And you, a few yards away, sitting on your knees on the bedroom floor. Eyes glued to his shiny, polished boots firmly planted on the ground, palms resting atop your tightly clenched thighs. Wearing nothing but a pair of panties, lacy enough that they were practically useless when it came to coverage.

"Eyes up here." San's soft voice snapped the silence that lay thick in the air. His tone was gentle, yet commanding. You craned your neck up to meet his eyes.

His gaze was hard, and you noticed the way his grip tightened around the camcorder when your eyes met. "Hi, baby." He murmured softly, like he was coaxing over a docile animal, the small smile on his face making your stomach flutter.

"Come here," San whispered, pointing at the space on the floor in front of him. A simple command, something easy to obey. Yet, when you placed your hands flat on the ground in prepration to stand, San let out a quick whistle, gaining back your attention.

"No, baby." He chastised, shaking his head like he was disappointed. He leaned back a little on the edge of the bed, angling his head down to gaze on you below him, like you were nothing more than a machine to be instructed.

"Crawl to me." He ordered, tapping his foot against the floor. Once, twice. "Get on your hands and knees, like a dog, and crawl."

You didn't give yourself time to question the command, and instead, you obeyed. You sat back on your haunches and placed your hands flat on the ground, on all fours.

"Keep your eyes on me." He murmured. You looked up, eyes locked with his as you slowly crawled to him, one hand after the other. Your eyelashes fluttered prettily as San watched every step you took with drunken earnestness.

You stopped when you were just a foot's length away from him on the floor, his sharp gaze on you never faltering, the camera lens following each slow movement you made.

"So you can follow instructions." He snipped lowly, the purr in his voice sending a visible shiver through your body.

"But, just look at you." San pouted, angling the camera closer to your face. His free hand slid around and cupped your jaw. In response, you nuzzled your face into his hand, your thighs clenched when the warmth of his skin touched yours. "A writhing mess. What makes you think I'd want to touch you when you look so disgusting, huh, sweetness?"

His thumb rubbed slow circles against your cheek, and your eyelids fluttered at the soft contact. San's thumb pressed against your closed lips, and you parted them obediently. He slipped his thumb into your mouth and gently massaged your tongue in languid patterns. You salivated around his thumb, and San clicked his tongue.

"I might as well, just to put you out of your misery. You wanna feel good, huh, baby?" San's thumb continued to rub against your tongue, tilting his head to the side as he took your pathetic form below him in. "You wanna shut off that brain and be my obedient little girl?"

You cower below him, nodding slowly and mumbling a muffled 'yes' around his thumb. San smiled softly, gently maneuvering his fingers to curl around your chin, effectively holding your head by your lower jaw with his thumb still deep in your mouth. He pulled your head closer, urging you to crawl further towards him.

He leaned his head down so that his lips just barely brushed against the shell of your ear, breathing so softly that it was almost as if he wasn't breathing at all.

"Get yourself off on my boot, slut." He purrs in a hushed tone in your ear, and you hear his foot tap against the floor once more, like a sound cue that flipped a switch in your brain. “Work for me. Grind that slippery pussy on my boot until you cum. Show me just how willing you are for my attention.”

Your eyes rolled, and you felt his thumb sink even deeper into your mouth, continuing to pull your head forward until your hips were forced to straddle his shoe. Your hands curled around his calf, your cheek rested against the side of his knee, your gaze wide and watery as you slowly rested your hips down on the edge of his shoe, the open crotch lingerie you were clad in providing easy access to your soaked cunt.

You felt your clit brush against the smooth leather of his shoe, and San felt your sweet voice vibrate around his thumb, your soft moan hitting his ears like a truck.

He set the camera down on the edge of the bed next to him, still perfectly angled at your sweet submissive face, still rolling. His now free hand landed right on the print that presed up against his slacks, thick and heavy through the dark fabric.

He gently palmed himself through his pants, eyes falling half lidded when you started to slide your hips over his boot in a slow, heavy rhythm.

Your clit perfectly caught the rough edges of his boot, his hard gaze on you as you moved.

"Slow down, baby." He demeaned, tapping his boot beneath your cunt, sending a jolt of pleasure through your entire nervous system, your teeth just barely sinking into the thumb in your mouth. "Such a needy girl, have some patience."

You whined around him, reluctantly slowing your pleasure-seeking grind against his boot. San grinned in satisfaction, rewarding you with his thumb slowly sliding back and forth over your tongue, his hand continuing to palm his bulge,

He imagined his cock in place of his thumb, fucking your pretty mouth and watching you choke around his big dick, tears streaming down your face and breaking you down into a pathetic crying mess for him.

Your hands gripped his calf harder as you willed your body to keep the slow pace, but with the leather of his shoe completely lubed with your ever-flowing slick, it was becoming increasingly harder to maintain that leisurely rhythm. You moaned softly as his thumb glided in and out of your mouth, his skin faintly tasting of the strawberry candy he was eating earlier.

"Such a pitiful girl. My pitiful girl, aren't you? Humping me like a desperate slut." His words only spurred you on further, and you found your hips slightly speeding up, chasing that tantalizing orgasm.

"Aw, you can't help yourself, can you?" San's hand slipped beneath the waistband of his slacks, freeing his aching, hard cock from his pants. Pretty, thick, and pink, he slowly stroked the length of himself above you, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue and moaning softly.

"You thinking about me fucking you, baby?" He whispers, tapping his shoe beneath you again, laughing when you whimper loudly. His thumb stroked over the pre-gathering at his tip, smearing it over his cock and stroking himself languidly, the slick sounds of him fucking his hand making you gush even more.

Your breath stutters when a particular drag of your hips sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine, you stop just for a moment to calm yourself, but then San presses flat down on your tongue.

“Don’t stop.” He commands breathlessly, his hand smoothly gliding over his slick cock, eyebrows slightly furrowed in pleasure. “Keeping rocking those hips, slut.”

You whine quietly and begin moving your hips once again, unable to deny his saccharine demands. You wanted to please him, and like San always told you, the best way to please him is to please yourself.

“Gonna give you this recording once we’re done.” He promises sultrily, softly scratching under your chin in a way that made your skin tingle.

“So you can listen to my voice behind the camera, watch yourself fall apart beneath me, make sure you don’t forget how dumb you are when you get so needy for me.”

You felt the blunt nail of his thumb gently scrape against your bottom teeth, the strange sensation sending shockwaves to your brain.

“When you miss me and you touch yourself because all your pretty brain can think about is Sannie's thick cock stretching you out, isn’t that right baby?"

You smiled like an idiot around his thumb, eyes rolling when you felt your body nearing that oh so tempting edge. San’s hand never ceased its smooth glides up and down himself, soft yet heavy breaths and quiet moans making you press your core against his boot even harder.

You should be ashamed, you should be humiliated, and to an extent you were. Reduced to a lusful bitch, humping your needy cunny against San’s boot like he’s all you’ve ever have, and all you’d ever get. Degrading yourself for him, groveling at his feet like he was your God and drooling around his thick thumb like it was candy.

But he looked at you like he couldn’t get enough. Like he was feeding off of your desperation with a hunger that was insatiable. The slick, slow strokes he dragged up and down his cock only proved how much he really admired your overflowing desire for him, and he almost felt bad that he was having you fuck yourself on his shoe rather than laying you out and playing with your sweet plushy body until you were convulsing.

But he didn’t feel that bad, cause fuck… did you look gorgeous right now. His subservient, lecherous girl.

“You cumming for me, sweetheart?” San hummed, finally slipping his thumb out of your mouth. He switched hands, sliding his drool-soaked thumb over his throbbing cock, letting his head fall back as a gravelly growl slipped from his lips.

“Yes.. Sannie..” you moan softly, letting your head loll against his knee, your cheek smushed against the bone cutely. Your hips reduced to a slow, deep grind, the tough, shiny leather perfectly slipping over your clit in a way that made your limbs shake.

San’s breath shuddered silently, eyebrows knit tightly as he focused on the way your hips moved, the little changes in expression on your glowing, flushed face, the way your nails dug into the muscle of his calf like you couldn’t bear to keep your hands to yourself.

“Fuck, you’re so sad baby.” He chuckled lowly, burying his free hand in your tangled locks, craning your head back up in his grip and forcing your pretty wet eyes on him once again. “Go ahead then, slut. Cum. Make a sticky mess on my boot so I can hurry up and ruin that slutty pussy. You want this dick baby?”

You nod, your breath heaving as your spine arches, your stomach tingling, and your hips stuttering. “Mm~, wan it so bad, please Sannie.”

San’s grip on your hair tightens, before he leans his head down just so his plush lips hovered over yours. Parted softly in quiet sighs, he smiled against your lips, before yanking your head hard and bringing your hot ear to his mouth.

“Cum for me.” He coos in your ear. “Let your body speak for you.”

Your vision flashed a blinding white, and you felt yourself drool on his leg, your hips slowing as your orgasm crashed over you so strongly you felt your soul try to leave you.

San’s fingers rubbed soothing circles against your scalp, bouncing his foot a few times to help you ride it out. “There we go, poor thing. You look so miserable, honey.”

He slipped his hand out of your hair and grabbed you by your chin, lifting you to your knees. He leaned closer, his warm cock sitting pretty in his hand. He gently drags the tip over your soft, parted lips. You open your mouth and let your tongue fall out of your mouth; to which San gently taps his mushroom tip on your tongue, smiling at your fucked out expression.

“Such an obedient, beautiful thing.” He whispers. He stands, and you follow in tandem, your stomach already lurching with the promise of more pleasure. His hand cups around the back of your heated neck, nuzzling his nose against your cheek and inhaling deeply, like the smell of your arousal, your sweat got him high. His other hand slips around your waist, holding your body close to his possessively.

“Now lie down, sweetheart," San murmurs against your cheek, his tongue dragging down the length of your face, slowly tracing a wet path down to the crook of your neck, pressing a hungry kiss against your shoulder.

"Gonna fuck you so full of my cum you’ll be leaking out of that pretty pussy for days.”

the longer you stare at jisung, whose legs are daintily crossed over the other as he sits beside you on the couch, you think harder and harder about how cute he looks.

he looks comically small against the wide frame of the couch, huddled in a corner, fiddling with his phone.

your bullet vibrator is in the drawer next to him. you figure that it’s best to play with what’s in front of you first, that the device can wait for you later.

it would be so fun to play with his pussy, right then and there, no pressure. so, that’s what you suggest, letting the words roll off your tongue with a cadence of nonchalance that catches jisung off guard.

“what?!” jisung asks with wide eyes, shocked beyond belief. “you want to what?”

you simply nod. “you can just stay on your phone if you’re busy, no need to moan or anything. i just want to touch it. may i?”

an audible gulp leaves jisung and he looks extra cute this way: blushing, unsure, cheeks puffed up like a squirrel in front of headlights.

you wait patiently for the response and that’s when your boyfriend notices a glint in your eyes. it’s sharp and intimidating compared to your relaxed body and neutral tone. he’s not shy of his pussy, you two have fucked many times before, but he’s extra shy of you now.

all you’ll do is touch his pussy here and there. lick it and tease it. he doesn’t have to respond. it’s nothing sexually serious.

“fine,” jisung mutters, but you can hear the slight curiosity in it.

a wide grin graces your face and it’s simultaneously the prettiest and hottest thing jisung has ever seen. it isn’t long before you inch forward, holding his milky smooth legs apart by his knees.

the simple action already makes jisung’s heart race. he’s free to react, free to not react, do anything while his pretty partner goes to town with his pussy. fortunately for him, his partner is you, but unfortunately for his cunt, it quivers easily at the prospect of being touched by you.

when your fingers grace his pretty panties with the most casual touch, he instinctively clenches, allowing his naturally wet cunt to coat itself more.

jisung shuts his eyes for a second before refocusing on his phone as a distraction — even if your delicate touch distracts him.

you push the body of his underwear to the side, revealing the sight you’ve been craving to see: his cunt is glistening, days fresh from a shave, clit peeking slightly out of his outer skin as if it’d been shy yet stimulated enough.

jisung seems to sink further into the sofa. you have to giggle at how adorable your boyfriend is.

you lean down to kiss his clit lightly, making him wiggle in his seat at the action. he’s still typing away at a document on his phone, no noise escaping his pursed lips, but he’s blushing like crazy and his legs habitually buckle inwards at the knees.

it doesn’t stop you from planting featherlight pecks on his pussy. his clit protrudes more and more, stiffening slightly from the stimulation, while his hole clenches to keep his wetness in.

you pull your face away and jisung looks down on you curiously.

he looks as if he’s about to ask a question and you can hear it in his small voice all before it turns into a yelp — you pulled away to pull his panties down, hooking your fingers around the fabric and yanking it downwards in a swift motion that shocks him.

“sorry ji,” you neutrally say as your cheek leans on his inner thigh, admiring his completely bare pussy. your finger finds its way running up and down his folds, feeling his pretty plump skin quivering under your light touch. you continue petting it at a pace that you don’t bother to keep up with. after all, you just want to touch it.

there’s nothing too sexual about this until one of your fingers is inside him and jisung moans.

it’s sudden yet it immediately puts your boyfriend into that familiar inescapable trance. you stretch him open ever so slightly that the touch leaves him in an unbreakable spell of just nothing but neediness — yet it’s just not enough. he knows that you didn’t have that much intent behind your actions initially but he can’t help it. he loses himself and moans loudly, lolling his head back and abandoning his phone at the side of the couch.

“b-baby, please, i’m so sensitive,” he pants, “so good…”

you kiss his inner thigh while admiring his fascinating burst of sensitivity. “i’m not doing anything though.”

“y-your finger’s inside, baby…you said you’d just touch.”

“can’t i touch you inside too?” you look up at him as you respond, and that’s when something dark hits you.

the only other sight that you find as pretty as his cunt is his blissed-out face, his slightly toned tummy and chest rising and falling from breathing heavily. he’s writhing slightly, hands settling on covering his face. his legs want to buckle in but he has to stop since you’re in between them, and you think it’s cute.

it’s adorable and it also touches something deep down in your dark mind. the intimidating glint in your eyes from earlier turns into a sinister gaze that pierces through jisung in the same way another finger penetrates his tight cunt.

“baby!” he moans again, this time sounding more like a cry, and it sparks something within you.

within the dark and greedy thoughts circle and come to a point, only illuminated by a lightbulb of an idea that pops in your head as jisung moans for you.

you could use your boyfriend’s cunt and your lonely little vibrator at the same time.

you curl your fingers against his sweet spot, locking him where he is as he shakes underneath you. his glazed eyes follow your free hand as it quickly pulls the drawer, skillfully finding the device as if it were force of habit.

a still-fully-charged vibrator in your hand was the least of your boyfriend’s expectations.

“baby…what are you doing?” he tightened his hole around your digits. perhaps you were going to use it on yourself.

memories of a few wild nights ago flashed before his mind, the memory teasing him as he remembered how fucking great it was to watch you play with yourself while he was restrained. you, his baby—no, his mommy, looked too good with the vibrator. seeing it again has him whining and drooling lightly.

excitement riled him up, the familiar feeling spreading through his tummy, making him gush wetness on your fingers.

until you turned it on and stuck it to his clit instead.

“a-ah—baby! fuck, holy shit, b-baby—” jisung writhed and twitched under you, jolting from the sudden vibrations. “baby, stop, not on me—”

you curled your fingers deep inside his tight little cunt.

“what do you mean ‘baby?’ address me properly or i won’t let you cum.”

panicked, jisung shook his head. “n-no…”

“no? no? do you think you have a choice, dumb boy?”

as he was about to protest, you dug the vibrator up against the grooves of his sensitive little clit, stimulating each and every single nerve at once while the toy sat at its highest and most consistent drilling speed.

“baby stop! stop, stop, stop, b-baby!”

“told you to stop calling me your baby.” this is all too much for him, the sensations leaving him a wiggling mess, fighting against the couch for some relief. no matter how much he shook, the sharp pains of your fast fingering and the bullet vibrator sent him into overdrive.

delirious as he is, the least he could do was to commit the mistake of calling you his “baby” over and over again. broken mantras recited in between moans yet you grew more and more impatient, drilling your digits in and out of his now-gushing pussy as he couldn’t seem to call you his “mommy.”

opposite of his baby, you were mommy — the one he always masturbates to, the one he finds mean, the one who punishes him, the one who is senseless to him. “baby” is the term of endearment, “mommy” is the name that breaks his spine from the icy chills that it gives him.

you’re far from his baby now.

“answer me,” you said.

“but—f-fuck, stop! stop! it—ah, ‘s not supposed to b-be there! ‘s yours!”

lightning strikes throughout your nervous system at his words. the toy is yours, so is he. jisung has to accept that he’s your toy too, and you can play with both.

just because it was your tiny machine doesn’t mean it could be lonely. you bought it not just for your own use, but you thought of using it on your pathetic, anime girl-like boyfriend and his juicy little pussy.

“i said answer me.”

“baby—b-b…fuck, mommy!” your fingers slid up to his limit, all the way past his sweet spot, abusing him with an immense physical hurt that makes him cry in a concerning fashion.

but fuck, you’re so addicted to his noises, his compliance, his submission, you can’t help but do it again.

“mommy, mommy, m-mommy! i’m sorry! please, mommy, p-please stop…”

“i’m not stopping.”

press his buttons like they were made to be hurt.

“stop…please…” jisung can feel himself wearing out from writhing so much, his body growing sore from trying to spread his legs apart — it doesn’t help that you pushed his knees down with strong elbows — and his arms felt useless from failed attempts at pushing you away.

he’s in pain but it’s so fucking good to him. his pussy grips your fingers as they slide in and out of him at a merciless pace. his cunt’s lips are glistening from an incoming orgasm that somehow hurts so sharply each time it pulses and makes itself known.

“th-that’s yours, mommy, it’s not—ahn! ‘s not mine!” jisung cries, “not on me, n-not on me—mommy! stop!”

again, he’s right; the toy’s not his. again, he’s wrong; it belongs to his pussy.

severe aches pulsate through his cunt yet it doesn’t stop gushing wetness with each thrust and curl of your fingers. the vibrator makes a heat pool in his belly that makes him want to release as he loses self control by the second.

“gonna cum…don’t want mommy…i don’t want mommy…”

something breaks in your brain as he mutters that quietly.

“why won’t you want me? want your pretty little ‘baby?’ even after you won’t fucking listen to me, you selfish boy?” each word leaves your lips as if arrows shot precisely out of a quick-slinging bow.

pathetic little jisung is unable to dodge your threats. “b-but this is yours, baby’s toy! not mine! it’s yours—“

“whose toy?” at his mistake, you press the vibrator against the peak of his clit and it audibly stings.

“b—mhmph! it’s mommy’s!”

“correct. and since it’s mine, i use it the way i want to, yeah?” you almost laugh at yourself and at your boyfriend’s wide, teary eyes. he’s genuinely crying from the pain and yet you can see the hearts in his pupils. he’s addicted to a vice called you and he’s all yours to be dealt with.

whines escape his lips as he starts gushing even more of a clear, sweet wetness. “oh fuck…y-yes, mommy…”

“good. i’ll play with both my toys if i want to.”

“i-i’m…so close…baby—” jisung gulps thickly at his mistake. “m-mommy, gonna cum, gonna cum, please stop, s-stop!”

there’s a real fear in his eyes from being punished for wanting to cum. from calling you his baby. from asking to stop.

“why would i stop?”

“i’ll cum! ‘m gonna squirt! it’s too much!”

giggles leave your chest that are as dark as thick smoke. “there’s no such thing as too much, dumb boy. need you to squirt all over me.”

“but it hurts! hurts so much, can’t take it anymore!”

eyes meet between the both of you and jisung’s wet cunt clenches hard at the sight if your grin. the overstimulation hurts, the usually warm orgasm suddenly feeling too hot inside him. you only have two digits inside him yet he’s already so fucking tight and the small lonely vibrator feels like a death trap on his unfolded clit.

“where does it hurt?” you curl and unravel your fingers at an incredibly fast rhythm for a moment, your nails intentionally digging at his limit. “here?”

“fuck!” jisung shrieks from the pain. “fuck, no! please stop!”

you abuse his cunt in every single way, kissing and biting the inner parts of his thighs at the points where they are most sensitive.

cries get stuck in your boyfriend’s throat. “i’m begging, mommy, m-mommy…” he sobs this time, letting tears roll down his face as his hardened nipples jiggle from his heaving chest. “g-gonna—ah—gonna…cum…”

“then cum. squirt, boy.”

pressure builds quick and, as if on command or by pure blissful accident, jisung starts screaming and squirting loads.

waves of sweet gushing roll one after the other as he bucks his hips upwards and shakes. his head is rolled all the way to the back of the couch. quick and harsh throbs radiate through his clit as his sloppy cunt squirts. the pressure is intense and you feel it against your skin, but your fingers never leave his tight hole even as he’s screaming your name and wetting your entire arm.

one last gush of his pussy leaves after what seems to be a minute straight of him losing all his senses to a harsh orgasm. it’s only then that you turn the vibrator off and set it down on his wet mess. his hips fall down on the couch with a loud thud and his body seems to shut off.

you lick his pussy and his entire body rattles. the rapid shaking subsides when jisung musters up the last of his energy to look at you, satisfied, licking the cum on your lips and arm.

he’s so fucking sweet.

“did you like it, sungie?”

jisung pants, unable to catch his breath. it takes him far too many seconds to process what you asked, his mind still hazy and cloudy from the massive orgasm. he literally can’t think of anything but you.

he nods his head and drops it to his side from exhaustion. “thank you mommy,” he weakly mutters. “i love you…”

you prop yourself up and away from his legs and watch them finally close daintily as you cuddle next to him. he nuzzles his head directly onto your chest and rubs his nose against your chin as an instinctive yearning for comfort.

“mhmm. i love you too sungie. don’t worry, your baby’s here.” as twisted as it is, your sweet smile returns as if nothing had happened.

as if you weren’t being a monster on his clit.

“my baby…” a relieved sigh escapes him. “i’m…’m scared of mommy…”

you chuckle. you’re his baby now as much as he is yours. “but you like my toys, right?”

“y-yeah…but mommy’s so scary…” his cheeks puff up and he looks like the little squirrel boy that you fell in love with. “mommy’s a meanie. i like my baby more.”

his plump cheek plops on your chest and he reaches for your wet hand. the sight of his essence amazes him, but more so, every curve of your hand gives sparkles in his eyes.

“b-but i…” jisung clears his throat as it became scratchy from moaning endlessly. “i like every part of you. my baby, my m-mommy…you. you’re always so good to me.”

he licks his essence off your finger and his cheeks heat up at the taste. “i-i can’t stop loving you, baby.”

“can’t stop loving you either, ji. you’re my good boy.”

you lightly pet his pussy as a simple reassuring gesture, but instead, jisung’s entire lower half jolts. he lets out a dragged out whine as well.

maybe you forget how sensitive he is.

“sorry my sungie! couldn’t help it.”

jisung giggles lightly in response. “it’s okay, baby.”

playing with your two toys at once seemed worth it: your vibrator is a little less lonely now, and your boyfriend’s pretty cunt is well spent.

cleaning the wet couch is a worry for later.

taglist: @toastyseungmo @hobihearteu @biddes-enthusiast @snow-pegasus @subby-kpop @myrandomthoughtsandhobbies @eggielix @turnipfizzle @hanniecheesecake @hyunebunz @laylasbunbunny @ppiri-bahng @he-they-heathen @chriscentric @svintsandghosts @starryoong @bbyquokka @abiaswreck @suengmi @fun-fanfics @fairylouist + @compersian @fruitcakebin @jisvngc0re1

love u mei ^_^ again, explicit version of header art is now up on twt.