jax

Heeseung barely reacts at first, eyes still locked onto the screen, fingers moving like you’re not literally sitting in his lap.

“Hee..” You whine, hips grinding involuntarily despite his words earlier telling you not to move.

“Hold on,” he mutters, focused. “One round.”

You tilt your head, watching him instead of the game, how can this man act normally when he’s so deep inside you?

“‘One round’ like the last three times?”

No answer—just a quiet hm under his breath when something doesn’t distract him.

He felt you clench around him making him exhales sharply, dropping his head back against the chair.

“Fuck—Y/N, baby, stop that, I won’t last.” He groans againts your temple. You can’t help it, the stretch was so good and you can literally feel every vein of his.

You give up, groaning softly as you relax and rest your cheek on his chest while he whistles in victory.

“Good girl, we just did it an hour ago. Just relax on me while I game, yeah?” He huff while his fingers work on the keyboard, turning his head slightly to mouth your temple.

“You got the text about Jay’s birthday party?” You ask suddenly, in which he hums. “Tonight,”

“Get dressed, we’ll go together.” His legs moved the chair to give you space to get up, he pats your hip.

Your thighs shake as you got up, his now-soft length pulls out. He let out a groan.

The sudden wave of cold air hitting your bare privates made the both of you wince and hiss, before looking into each other’s eyes with a soft laugh.

“You still have that outfit in my closet—from two nights ago,” he says. “Go put it on.”

You blink, trying to place which one he means.

“The black one,” he adds, a slow smirk forming. “The one I like, though it was so hard to take off.”

Once you’re both ready, the room feels different—like everything that was chaotic before has been tightened into something deliberate.

Your hair is pulled up neatly, a few soft strands framing your face, and your makeup is done just right—clean, sharp, but still natural enough to make it look effortless. You catch your reflection and adjust your outfit one last time, smoothing it down even though it doesn’t need it.

When you step out, Heeseung looks up—and actually pauses for a second.

Not dramatic. Just… still.

His eyes scan you slowly, like he’s making sure he’s seeing it right.

“…yeah,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than you.

You raise a brow. “What?”

He shakes it off like he didn’t just stare a little too long.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

But as you walk past him, he lightly taps your hip—casual, almost absentminded—but his hand lingers just long enough to make it feel intentional before he grabs his keys.

The air between you feels charged in that quiet, familiar way again.

Outside, the night is cooler. The streetlights glow faintly against the pavement as you both head to his car. He unlocks it and opens the passenger door for you without saying much, like it’s automatic by now.

Once you’re inside, he shuts the door and circles around to the driver’s side.

A moment later, he gets in, starts the engine, and finally glances at you properly again—like he’s still taking you in.

Then he looks away, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

The city lights smear across the windshield as the car moves through traffic, music from outside faint but still pulsing through the windows.

He drives like he always does—calm, one hand on the wheel, the other resting loosely near the gear shift.

Too close. Always too close.

You glance at him once, then look away.

“Hey,” you say.

“Yeah?”

Your voice drops a little. “Remember. Not too touchy tonight. It’s better to have no contact at all.”

He doesn’t look at you right away. Just tilts his head slightly, like he’s considering it.

“I’m not too touchy,” he says after a beat.

You turn your head.

“Last time you literally—”

“I fixed your strap,” he interrupts smoothly, eyes still on the road.

You pause.

“That’s not—”

“It was falling. You don’t want to flash everyone in the club.”

You exhale, looking forward again, unimpressed. “That’s not the point, Hee. They gave me a suspecting look and it weirded me out. It’s uncomfortable.”

A short silence settles.

Then you add, quieter, “And don’t call me baby in front of them. Or any other stupid petnames you always do.”

That time, his fingers tap once on the steering wheel. Slow.

He glances at you briefly, then back to the road.

“…you’re serious.”

“They’re gonna question it. And! we’re not a couple.”

Another beat.

The car moves under green lights, steady. Then he says, almost casually, “You’re fine with everything else though?”

You don’t answer immediately.

Your grip tightens slightly in your lap.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He hums under his breath, like he doesn’t fully agree, but he doesn’t push it either.

Instead, he just nods once. “Alright.”

But the air in the car shifts anyway.

Being with him like this feels… normal. Almost annoyingly so. And when you have talks like these, reminding him about your rules, it’ll always ruin the mood a little.

Years of knowing each other—childhood friends first, then somewhere in college it blurred, then now in adulthood it’s become this unspoken thing neither of you really defines out loud.

It’s easier that way.

At least, that’s what everyone else thinks.

To your friend group, you’re just the two who are always together. The ones who naturally drift toward each other in every room, every gathering, every late-night decision.

No one questions it.

No one looks twice.

No one knows that almost after every hangout, you both head to his or your apartment—making each other feel good.

“It’s like they’re choosing a club so far away on purpose.” He clicks his tongue, looking at the Maps app.

You look at the scenery outside, the night sky, other cars passing by. You’re grateful he changed the topic.

Almost 20 minutes later, we’ve finally arived to an unfamiliar club, picked by Jay and the others.

Heeseung parked the car, cutting the engine and turning to look at you. He didn't make a move to let go of your hand, his grip still firm as he looked you over silently for a moment.

"You ready?" He asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips—an attempt at humor to hide the worry in his eyes. You nod, and both of you got out of the car and walked towards the entrance.

“No petnames, no touches.” You remind him.

Heeseung paused at that, his expression almost comically annoyed as he stared at you for a long moment. A low huff of breath left him as he ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath.

"Damnit." he said, the word low and almost petulant. "I was looking forward to you clinging to me all night like a damn koala."

“What are you talking about, you silly.” You flick his bicep, “I’m not your girlfriend and we’re not some—couple to be so…PDA-ish.”

Heeseung's smirk vanished instantly, replaced with something that looked dangerously close to hurt for half a second before he schooled his expression back into nonchalance. He rubbed the spot you flicked with an exaggerated wince.

"Ow." he muttered—too sharp to be just about the flick. "You're right. We're not."

A pause as he met your eyes again, his tone deliberately light: "Guess I'll have fun flirting with someone else then."

Heeseung didn't say anything as you scoffed at him, simply following you into the club. He kept his hands in his pockets now, keeping a comfortable distance between you as the other members came into view.

"About goddamn time." Jay's voice cut through the low thrum of music as he noticed you both, his usual smug smirk in place. "Almost thought you two were ditching."

“Who the hell choose the club? Why is it all the way downtown?” Heeseung grumbles as he took the glass Jake offered as soon as you both went to the group’s booth.

Your friends, the two guys and one more, Beomgyu and two girls, Yunjin and Ryujin is already there.

Yunjin smiles at the both of you before hugging you, talking about missing you the whole day even when she saw you two days ago during a hangout while Ryujin laughs.

Your friendgroup was formed during college, Heeseung was friends with Jay and Jake first, and then later on was introduced to Beomgyu which knew Yunjin and Ryujin.

Heeseung introduced all of them to you, he knew you’re someone reserved and doesn’t need to be in big friendgroups to have a great college life, and you’re content with just having Heeseung as your bestfriend.

However, he promised you these people are worth to be friends with. Real people with real feelings. No drama—just a couple of friends who are always up to weekend getaways and party nights.

Sitting beside the girls, Heeseung sat a few meters away from you, his gaze darting over to you every now and then as the night went on. He was uncharacteristically quiet—only throwing out sarcastic comments now and again while the others chattered.

He was trying so hard not to look at you it was almost funny, his jaw still clenched, teeth grinding slightly.

However, you’re completely unaware how much you’re hurting him right now.

It was a little after a few hours of drinking that everyone was starting to get a bit tipsy. The others were all laughing and chatting, getting rowdier as the alcohol started to go to their heads.

Heeseung, however, remained sitting quietly in his corner of the booth, his gaze never straying far from you. His expression was almost brooding as he sipped at his beer—a stark contrast to the overall atmosphere of the group.

“Hey guys, the birthday boy has a suggestion!” Jake laughs as Jay stands up, clearly too tipsy for his well-being. “Alright, friends.”

He looks around, before turning to us again. “The single ones, tonight everyone needs to get laid.” The others are already chiming in with excited replies.

In the group, only Jake has a girlfriend, someone who’s not in our friendgroup. You saw her a few times during hangouts where he’d bring her but she’s not here tonight.

“Hell yes.” Yunjin cheers, “Gotta find someone to make out with tonight!” The others join, yelling about not wanting to go home tonight or, having their protections ready.

“Wait, so we’re seperating?” You ask and the group’s eyes turn back to you, a chorus of agreeing nods and reassurances greeting you.

“Duh,” Jay smirks. “It’s the perfect time to pick up some cuties, right, Heeseung?” He looks at the man who has been silent since the conversation started.

He looks at you, before looking away, “Yeah, plenty on the dance floor.”

Jake looks at you, “I’ll leave early then, what about you, Y/N?”

I turn to the girls. “Seriously?”

Ryujin shakes her head, gaze going to the crowded dance floor. “There are some fine ass guys here. No way I’m gonna glued to your side all night.” She laughs.

You groan at that, watching everyone slowly leaves the booth.

Everyone except one person.

Heeseung sets his drink on the table and smirks at you, voice soft but clear despite the loud music of the club.

“Guess that leaves just you and me, princess?” He murmur, leaning back againts the booth and spreading his arms across the back of the couch. “You’re gonna keep me company all night?”

“Heeseung, no petnames.”

Hisa smirk faltered for half a second—just long enough to betray the sting of your words. His jaw tightened as he pulled his arms back, resting them on the table instead.

"Right." he muttered, tone clipped. "Y/N."

The way he said it was too formal now—almost cold. He took another sip of beer before adding, "Guess I'll just sit here alone then since you don't want anything to do with me either."

You frown, “I didn’t say that.”

A scoff escaped Heeseung's lips at that—something between a huff of irritation and a laugh.

"Could've fooled me." He mutter, running a hand through his hair. "You've been keeping your distance all goddamn night, avoiding even looking at me."

“Well, the others are around. And that’s our rule?”

He rolled his eyes at that, a sharp scoff cutting through the air. His expression is hard, almost cold.

“Like they care, Y/N.” He replies sharply, “They’re grown adults and they know we’re friends since we’re ten. A little closeness wouldn’t make them go crazy.”

You sigh, “But—”

Heeseung cut you off with a sharp, frustrated gesture of his hand.

"But what?" he bit out, voice low and rough—almost pleading now. "You're acting like I'm some dirty secret. Like this is something to be ashamed of."

A pause as he ran a hand over his face before muttering: "Just tell me what the hell you want from me."

“…You know they make a big deal once there’s a couple in the friendgroup.” You look down.

Heeseung let out a dry, brittle laugh at that, almost bitter. "Yeah. Just like you make a big deal out of me saying goddamn petnames."

He leaned back in the booth, fixing you with a dark gaze. "What's it matter? Are you embarrassed of me or something?"

You look at him, “What? Of course not!”

Heeseung's jaw tightened at that, his grip on the beer bottle turning white-knuckled again. He stared at you for a long moment—silent, calculating.

"Then why?" he finally bit out, "You act like I'm some secret to hide. Like this isn't real."

A pause as he shook his head slightly. "Fuck it. Forget I said anything."

You stood up, taking his hand. “Whatever, let’s dance.”

Heeseung's eyes widened in surprise for a half-second. His gaze flickered down to where you held his hand, something like hope flickering across his face—almost too brief to catch. He let you pull him up from the booth, but his grip tightened on your hand as he looked at you, almost uncertain.

"You're not just doing this to shut me up, are you?" he asks, voice gruff.

You didn’t reply as you drag him. Heeseung let you lead him to the dancefloor, his eyes never leaving you as you moved through the crowd. The music was low and sensual—perfect for the kind of dancing that required touch.

He placed a hand on your hip—hesitating for a moment before pulling you flush against him, chest-to-chest. His hand stayed there, grip firm and possessive.

He lets out a soft hum, his hands moving slowly to feel your back. Your breath hitch, as your fronts kept brushing while you sway to the music.

But you can’t let anyone see this.

“Heeseung, I said dance—“ Your palms softly againts his chest to push him away. “Y/N, it’s just one dance.” He looks into your eyes, pleading now.

“No. Don’t be too close, Hee. The others are going to see.” You say, and that made him snap.

Heeseung exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration flashing across his face as he finally let go of your hip—hands raising in mock surrender.

"Fine." he bit out, stepping back just enough to put space between you two. His jaw was still clenched tight though, eyes burning with something unreadable. "You want distance? You got it. I’m done.”

He took another step back into the crowd—letting the bodies around them swallow him up until all you could see was a flash of dark hair and tense shoulders before he disappeared entirely.

You know you didn’t just pushed him away physically, but mentally as well.

“…Fuck.” You mutter to yourself as you try to get away from the crowd.

You wove your way through the people, trying to weave through the packed club. The music was loud and crowded—flashing lights and hot bodies everywhere.

You stumbled around another group of people, muttering under your breath as you tried to search for any sign of Heeseung. "Dammit." you cursed under your breath, "Where did that idiot disappear to…"

Your gaze flickered over the crowd—searching the sea of bodies for a familiar head of dark hair. You weaved through the people, cursing under your breath as each passing face proved just how hard it was to find someone in a club this packed.

"Damn it." you mutter again, frustration growing as the minutes ticked on. Where the hell was he?

You give up on searching and just sit back down on the empty large couch that was full with your friends earlier.

“Guess I’m the solo one tonight.” You sigh, taking a sip “By choice.”

And stupidity.

You slumped back into the booth, a sense of defeat washing over you as you realized how alone you were now. Everyone was off in pairs or in groups—and you were stranded in the booth on your own.

Your thoughts kept wandering back to Heeseung—the way he'd looked at you before he stormed off, the way his touch seared against your hips—but you pushed it aside, telling yourself to forget about him for now.

The feeling of being lonely in the club was something you were all too familiar with. Your friends were off with whoever they were hooking up with for the night, while you were left behind, alone in the booth like some third-wheel.

The sense of isolation was crushing. The music was too loud, the lights were too bright, and the people were too drunk. You felt completely alone in the chaos of it all.

However, usually Heeseung would come sit next to you, quickly coming out with conversations that’d make you forget being sad and laugh.

That’s how your best friend would usually come during times like these.

Yeah, your best friend.

Who also is your fuck-buddy. Who isn’t exclusively yours and you always try to stay aware of that fact.

The minutes ticked by like hours, and you sat there in the booth, nursing your drink as you watched the crowd around you. Everywhere you looked, people were dancing together, touching each other, having a good time…while you were stuck sitting there, alone. It was like a cruel reminder of how singled out you were in the club.

You pushed yourself up from the booth and made your way through the crowd, heading towards the washroom. Finally, some solitude.

You pushed the door open and slipped inside, the sound of the music muted now as the door swung shut behind you. The washroom was mercifully empty, and you let out a sigh of relief as you leaned against the sink.

You went out a few minutes after and you caught sight of a couple—pressed up against a wall, all over each other. The man's face was pressed against the woman's neck as they kissed, hands roaming over each other and—wait.

His face was familiar, even from this distance. You recognized that face. Heeseung?

Your best friend?

“…Wow.” You mutter softly to yourself as you walk away.

It was definitely him. There was no mistaking that face—the sharp jawline, the dark eyes, the defined features. That was unmistakably Heeseung. He was making out with some random girl in the corner.

Your stomach churned with something you refused to identify as jealousy. You looked away, trying to push down the bitter feeling in your chest.

“I deserved this. I was pushing him away all night.” You sigh as you slumped back into the booth, your earlier frustration giving way to something heavier—something that felt a lot like regret.

The club was still loud, still chaotic around you, but it all faded into background noise as you replayed every stupid thing you'd said to Heeseung in your head.

“Fuck."you muttered under your breath, "I really messed this up."

The bitter taste of the drink on your tongue did nothing to distract from the gnawing guilt in your chest.

You sat in the booth for what felt like ages, wallowing in the realization that it was entirely your fault. You'd spent all night pushing Heeseung away—reacting coldly to his touch, distancing yourself from him as much as possible. And now look where that got you.

Alone in the booth…while he was making out with some girl in a corner. It was almost pathetic how much it hurt.

The image of him, kissing some random girl in the corner, was stuck in your head like a broken record. You couldn't stop thinking about it—replaying it over and over like some kind of sick punishment.

The guilt was eating you up inside, twisting your stomach in knots. You'd been so hellbent on keeping Heeseung at arm's length, and now look where it got you.

He was off making out with someone else while you sat alone in the booth like a goddamn idiot.

“His dick was literally in me hours ago.”

Your own words hit you like a punch to the gut, sharp and brutal. The realization that someone else was probably getting her hands on him now—after he’d been buried inside you—made your stomach twist violently.

You have always been in love with him. Like—how can you not? But in college, you both agreed only to have sex, feel good, and that’s it. Other than that? He’s your best friend.

The lines were blurry sometimes? But Heeseung’s careless. You need to be the one who’s keeping the both of you in check. Reminding it’s all casual.

Or is it?

"Fuck.” You dropped your head into your hands, nails digging into your scalp as if it could physically tear the thought out of you. "I really am an idiot."

The thought of him touching her the way he’d touched you—hands sliding over skin, lips pressed to throat, voice rough in her ear—made your chest burn with something dangerously close to rage. And worse? The fact that he probably didn’t even give a shit about what you wanted anymore.

"I did this."you muttered into your palms, "I fucking pushed him until there was nothing left for me."

A bitter laugh escaped you as the truth settled in like poison: “Guess I got exactly what I asked for."

Your fingers fumbled slightly as you pulled out your phone, scrolling through the app with stiff movements. The club lights were too bright now—too loud, too much.

"Cab in 5 minutes," you muttered to yourself, shoving the phone back into your pocket. You didn’t even bother looking for anyone else in the group—let them stay gone.

The thought of Heeseung stumbling back to an empty booth later crossed your mind…but you crushed it underfoot as you grabbed your jacket and stood up.

You walked towards the exit, shoulders slumped and head down. The cool air of the night enveloped you, like a cold slap to the face—grounding you in a way the stuffy air of the club couldn't. You shoved your hands in your pockets, jaw clenched as you stood outside, waiting for the cab.

The wait felt endless, each second like torture as your thoughts spiraled. You couldn't stop thinking about the look on Heeseung's face when you'd pushed him away—the flash of disappointment, mixed with frustration.

What an idiot you were. You'd had it all, right there, and you let it slip through your fingers like it meant nothing. The guilt gnawed at your stomach, sharp and bitter.

Your thoughts were a mess of images—Heeseung, his touch, the way his voice sounded when he'd said your name.

A bright light suddenly cut through the dark night, jolting you out of your thoughts as a cab pulled up in front of you. The driver called out, asking for a location. You hesitated for a moment, your gaze flicking back towards the entrance of the club—as if for some kind of sign.

But there was nothing waiting for you there. Just the loud music and the flashing lights of the club.

You took a deep breath, pushing aside the ache in your heart as you gave the driver your address.

The cab ride was long—longer than it normally would have felt. You watched the city pass by outside the window—all the people on the street, all the bright lights, all the couples laughing and touching each other. Everything that was out of reach for you now.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, making you jump a little. You fumbled for a moment, clumsily pulling it out and tapping the screen awake. The sudden light of the screen stung your eyes—blindingly bright after the darkness of the cab.

Your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name on the screen. It was a text from Heeseung.

hee: where the hell are you?

You stare at the message, your heart pounding. Your thumb hover over it, half-tempted to ignore it all together. But damn it, you can’t resist. You type your reply.

you: on my way home.

The reply was almost instant. Your heart gave another painful squeeze, but you couldn't help the little flicker of hope that flared in your chest. Goddamn it all.

hee: alone??

you: everyone’s busy. don’t wanna disturb.

The reply was slower this time—as if he was debating his response. The 'typing' dots appeared and disappeared a few times before Heeseung finally sent the message. You stared at the screen, almost holding your breath as you waited for his next text.

hee: can i call?

you: the driver is a woman, you don’t have to.

Another pause, and then the call notification flashed across your screen. You hesitated for only a moment more before accepting. You put the phone to your ear, heart in your throat.

Heeseung's voice came through the line, low and hoarse. God, those damn chills it sent down your spine should be illegal.

"You left." he said, a note of something almost like hurt edging into the words. It was so subtle, you almost missed it.

“Said you don’t have to call, I’m safe.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, as if Heeseung was debating whether to say something or not. When he finally spoke again, the words came out sharp and frustrated.

"Damnit, I don't care if you're safe." he muttered, his voice laced with something like irritation and something else you couldn't quite name. "That's not the goddamn point."

You frown, “You don’t care..?”

He sighed, and it came out more like a ragged huff. "I didn't mean it like that, goddamn it. You just—" He broke off, his tone taking on a frustrated edge as he continued.

"You left without saying anything. Didn't even send a goddamn text. Do you have any idea how worried I was?"

“…You were busy.”

There was an incredulous sound on the other end of the line—like Heeseung had just rolled his eyes or something. When he spoke again, there was a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"So? That doesn't matter. I'd never be too busy for you." he grumbled, a note of something like annoyance—or was that hurt?—coloring his words.

"You know that. You could've at least let me know you were leaving. You just disappeared, without a goddamn word."

“Well? With the way I’m alone the whole time and everyone is sucking other people’s lips? Of course.”

Heeseung's response came almost immediately, sharp and biting—a hint of something almost like anger in his voice now.

“You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to spend the night like that? You're the one who kept pushing me away all night. What the hell did you expect." he snapped, the words coming out harsh and frustrated.

"You were so goddamn cold all night—did you really expect me not to go find someone else to keep me distracted?"

“I told you we have to be discreet—“

Heeseung cut you off before you could finish, his voice rising as irritation flared in his tone.

"Yeah, I know. You told me. But damn, was it so goddamn hard to give me a bit of attention? Even a little touch? You acted like you didn't want me near you at all. What the hell was I supposed to do?"

He was definitely angry now—the words coming out harsh and sharp. You could hear him breathing heavily on the other end of the line, like he was trying to control his own emotions.

"You wanted me to act like a friend? That's what you wanted? To push me away anytime I tried to get close? To act like we're nothing more than friends? Fine, I did what you wanted. I acted like I didn't care. Like you don't mean anything to me. That's the whole damn point, isn't it?"

His voice dropped dangerously low at that, sharp and bitter.

"You think I don't know what you want? You think I don’t see it?" A rough exhale came through the phone—almost a growl. “I just spent half the night watching you act like you didn’t even want me to breathe in your direction. So yeah. Maybe I got tired of playing by your goddamn rules."

A pause as his tone shifted slightly—something almost wounded seeping into his next words:

"But sure. Let's pretend this is all on me."

You were speechless, the words cutting into you like a damn knife. Because as angry as he sounded, he wasn't even wrong.

You'd given him the cold shoulder all night, pushing him away again and again—and now you were going to act offended when he went and found someone else to give him the attention you refused him? It was a gut-wrenching realization.

His breathing was ragged on the other end of the line—like he was struggling to keep his voice even. When he finally spoke again, it came out low and rough.

“You really don't get it, do you?" A bitter chuckle. "I didn’t go with her because I wanted to. I did it because you kept pushing me away until there wasn't a goddamn thing left for me."

A sharp inhale—almost pained. "But yeah. Sure. Let's act like this is all my fault."

You sigh, “It’s not your fault, Hee—”

He huffed, the sound sharp and bitter.

"Damn straight it's not my fault. It's yours. You're the one who wanted to keep this a goddamn secret. You're the one who wanted to act like we were just friends."

He let out a low scoff. "Don't get pissed at me for finding someone who wanted to give me the attention you refused to."

The words stung, more brutally than you wanted to admit. Because part of you knew he was right. You'd been the one to set the rules—set the boundaries.

You'd pushed him away every time he got close, every time he touched you, every time he got too intimate.

And now you had the audacity to get pissed off when he finally got tired of the game and found someone else? It was a bitter pill to swallow.

In public, the only time you want to be all touchy feely with someone is when it’s exclusive. When it’s established. Not some hookup, or a fuck-buddy. Even when it’s your best friend. Even when it’s Heeseung.

You start to feel your tension increase as well, “Is this why you called? To bitch at me?”

His huff of irritation was almost a snarl. "No. I called because I was goddamn worried. But then you started this bullshit. You really gonna act like you're the victim here?" He scoffed, his voice taking on a bitter edge. "You've been cold all night, pushing me away every time I tried to touch you. You can't blame me for finding someone else to give me some goddamn affection."

The words felt like a punch to your gut. Because goddamn it, how did this get twisted so much? Hadn't you been trying to do the right thing? To keep things casual, to keep things secret?

But now it felt like you were the bad guy. The one who drove him into another girl's arms. The guilt twisted in your chest, the realization that your rules had backfired coming down on you like a ton of bricks.

“It was mutually agreed in the first place, we keep it from our friends.” You say, tone no nonsense.

He cut you off with a sharp, frustrated sound—almost like he couldn't even believe what he was hearing.

"You really don’t get it. Do you?" His voice dropped to something low and rough—dangerous. "I don’t give a shit about the secret. I care that you act like I'm some dirty little mistake even when we're alone."

A pause as his breathing hitched slightly. "So yeah. Maybe I went looking for someone who won't make me feel like garbage.”

Once he noticed the silence on your end of the line, and he let out a dry laugh—the sound sharp and almost cruel.

"What? Nothing to say now? No explanation for why you've been treating me like I don't even exist all goddamn night?" he muttered, the frustration and hurt coming through in his tone. "Go ahead. Say something. Tell me this isn't all on me. You know you want to."

You were done, you didn’t want to talk anymore as you feel your emotions are starting to get over you, “Don’t you have a girl waiting for you? Hang up.”

Heeseung's laugh this time was bitter—almost angry. He was getting pissed now—angry at you, at the whole damn situation, at himself for even caring so much.

He wanted to snap back, to say something cutting and cruel—to hurt you as much as you hurt him. But instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath, his voice coming out low and hoarse

"Yeah. I do have a girl waiting for me. So why the hell am I even still talking to you?" he muttered, irritation edging into the words.

“Don’t be surprised when I’m not there to wait for you anymore. With the others around or not.”

That was the last thing he said before hanging up.

The tears stung in your eyes as the dial tone cut through the air, the silence in the cab suddenly feeling heavy and oppressive.

You tried to push away the feeling of guilt twisting in your gut, the realization that all of this was your damn fault hitting you like a ton of bricks.

You'd pushed him away, pushed him to look for comfort elsewhere, and now he'd gone and found it. In someone else's arms, someone who was probably giving him the affection you refused to give him all night.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. Heeseung was right—you hadn't even given him a goddamn explanation for treating him like a dirty secret. You'd just expected him to accept it, to put up with being treated like a mistake you couldn't let anyone find about.

But he wasn't just some goddamn mistake. He was your best goddamn friend, the one person who mattered more to you than anyone else.

And you were treating him like he was nothing more than a dirty little secret to be kept hidden away in the shadows. How goddamn stupid were you?

The tears came even harder now—hot and fast, the weight of guilt and regret crashing over you like a goddamn wave. You'd messed up. And not just a little bit—you'd royally screwed up. You'd pushed away the one person who meant more to you than anything else—all because of your stupid fear of people finding out.

So there you were, sitting in the backseat of a damn cab, crying like a fool over the man you'd driven into another girl's arms.

The image of him with that other girl burned in your mind—his hands touching her like they should've been touching you, his head bent close to hers like it should've been bent down to whisper in your ear instead.

You wanted to scream, to turn back time and undo every goddamn stupid choice that led to this moment. Because right now, all you wanted was for him to be there with you—not in someone else's arms.

The last few days had been hell. The image of Heeseung with that other girl kept replaying in your damn head like a broken record—the guilt twisting in your gut every time you thought about it.

You'd tried to keep yourself occupied, to throw yourself into work, into anything that would get your mind off of him. But no matter what you did, all you could think about was him. His smile, his laugh, the sound of his voice, the way his hands felt against your skin.

You stayed away from the friend group as best as you could, giving excuse after excuse about why you couldn't hang out.

"I've got meetings this week." "There's a new project I'm helping out on." "Sorry, I can't come out tonight—I'm too swamped with paperwork." A hundred different bullshit reasons, all avoiding the goddamn truth.

The days bled together—same excuses, same routine. You’d show up to the hospital early, leave late, avoid any group texts with a million replies you didn’t have energy for.

And if anyone noticed how quiet you'd gotten? How your eyes kept darting toward the door like some part of you was still waiting for him?

No one called it out.

At least until Yunjin herself comes to your workplace, bringing you out for a lunch break.

She appeared in the doorway of your office, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. The look on her face was a mix of concern and stubbornness—the kind that said she wasn't leaving without you.

"Okay, what the hell is going on?" she demanded, "You've been dodging us for days. And don't even try to feed me that 'workload' bullshit—I know damn well you're not scheduled for anything, I’m literally in a department next to yours."

Her gaze softened slightly as she took in your tired expression. "C'mon, Y/N. Let's go eat something before I drag you out by force."

You felt like passing out. You can’t believe Yunjin Huh—the manager of the HR department, going all the way to the Finance department for something as personal as a friendgroup problem during working hours.

You continue looking at your computer screen because there’s just no way.

Yunjin scoffed, her arms dropping to her sides as she shot you a look that said "seriously?" She rolled her eyes and pushed off the doorframe, striding into your office without a care for personal space.

"Alright, that's it. No bullshit excuses. You're coming with me, even if I have to drag you out by the ear." she said, her voice leaving no room for argument.

“How the hell did you get in here without work business?” You question, looking at her.

Yunjin shrugged, a sly smirk crossing her face. "Please. I’m the boss’s favourite" she jokes.

She paused, taking in your tired, distracted state. Her expression softened slightly—almost like she knew exactly what was going on. “And stop trying to change the subject. You're coming with me. Period."

Yunjin led the way to the cafe, her expression determined. The cafe was packed with hospital staff, the place buzzing with the usual lunchtime rush. She weaved her way through the crowd effortlessly, finding an empty table near the window.

She plopped into the chair across from you, her eyes scanning your face intently. "Okay. Spill. What the hell is going on? And don't give me any of that bullshit."

You sigh as you lean back.

Yunjin raised an eyebrow, watching you closely as you sighed.

She knew something was up—your expression, your demeanor, the fact that you'd been avoiding the friend group like the damn plague. She leaned forward, her voice softening slightly.

“C'mon, Y/N. You can tell me. You know that. Is this about Heeseung?"

Your gaze snap at her. “How..”

Yunjin rolled her eyes, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Don't act surprised, okay? You two aren't exactly subtle."

Her gaze softened as she took in your expression—the way your eyes flicked away, the way you avoided looking directly at her, the guilt etched into every line on your face.

"Besides, you've been avoiding the friend group for like, a week now. We're not idiots, you know."

You keep quiet. Not knowing what to answer to that.

Yunjin sighed, her expression softening further as she reached across the table and touched your hand.

Her touch was light, but it was grounding—a reminder that she was there, that she cared.

“Hey. Talk to me. What happened between you and Heeseung?“

You look at her. And then your hands together.

“We’ve been sleeping together…all this time.” You reveal to her.

Yunjin's eyes widened at your confession. She hadn't been expecting such a blunt answer—or such blunt words—and it took her a moment to process what you'd said.

But she was a smart girl, and it didn't take her long to fit the pieces together.

The late nights, the secret text messages, the tension between you and Heeseung… It all made sense now. She leaned back in her chair, her expression a mix of surprise and understanding.

"You've been hooking up the whole time? Since when?”

“Final year.“ You nodded. “And..we didn’t plan on telling you guys because, it was physical. We’re best friends. That’s all. Nothing exclusive.”

Yunjin let out a slow breath, her gaze never leaving yours.

The cafe noise faded into background static as she studied your face—the exhaustion in your eyes, the tension in your jaw. “Y/N.” Her voice was quieter now—less teasing, more serious.

"You don't get to call something 'physical' when you're crying over it for days straight."

A pause as she leaned forward slightly, “So tell me. What's really going on?"

You hesitate before answering.

“I made rules when we were still hooking up, to never show it when you guys are around. But, I was so anxious that you’re gonna caught us, so I just decided to push him away all together. Acting like if he’s too close I’ll burn.” You chuckle, but it didn’t reach my eyes.

“I know what we had was casual, and strictly no feelings involved. We were friends the longest in the friendgroup, so I never wanted to ruin that. And…” You look down, your free hand fumbling.

“And?” Yunjin urges.

“And I freaking like him. I’m in love with him. I think I already did during highschool. And now with intimacy involved? It’s…insane.”

Yunjin nodded—like she'd already guessed as much.

She'd seen the way you looked at Heeseung, seen the chemistry between the two of you. It was obvious to anyone with eyes.

"And he likes you, idiot. Any moron could see that."

Your eyes went to her, before shaking your head.

“Even if that’s true, we still did everything out of order. In what world that can work? And what will the others think?

She snorted, reaching across the table to flick your forehead lightly. "Who cares about 'order'? Since when do you give a shit about what anyone thinks?"

She leaned in, her voice lowering as she fixed you with a dead-serious look. "Heeseung's been obsessed with you for years. And yeah—maybe it started as casual. But that doesn't mean it can't be something more."

A smirk tugged at her lips. "Unless you're too chicken to try."

You huff, “Yunjin, I’m serious!”

She raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing wider. She was enjoying this a bit too much now—the way your face got all worked up, the way you tried so damn hard to be calm and composed…

She leaned in, resting her chin on her hand—still smirking like a smartass. "Yeah? Then what's the problem? If you like each other, just be together. Seems like a no-brainer to me."

“…And if we don’t work? I’m risking my best friend here.” Your lips tremble.

Yunjin's smirk vanished. Her expression shifted—suddenly serious, her eyes sharp as she studied you.

"That's bullshit and you know it." She pointed a finger at your face. "Heeseung isn't the type to throw away years of friendship over one messy breakup. And neither are you."

A pause as she crossed her arms, "But fine—if that's really what scares you? Then tell him how you feel before things go any further. No more hiding behind 'casual' crap when we both know damn well this is more than that for both of ya."

“Easier said than done.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated now. "Nothing worth doing ever is, idiot. This isn't a Disney movie where everything turns out perfect."

She leaned back in her chair, a sigh escaping her as she ran a hand through her hair. "Look—I get it. It's risky, it's scary…but you're not doing yourself any favor by keeping your mouth shut. You want Heeseung, right?"

You took a deep breath, before nodding.

Yunjin nodded too, her gaze steady on yours.

"Then you gotta take a damn chance" she said firmly.

"Tell him how you feel. Make it clear. Because if you don't, you'll be spending the next who-knows-how-long wondering 'what if' every goddamn time you see him with someone else."

You tilt your head in confusion, “You know about the girl?”

Yunjin rolled her eyes again, scoffing. "Of course I know. You think we're all blind, dumbass?"

She paused, her gaze still locked onto yours. "Heeseung's been weird all week—edgy, short-tempered. None of us are that stupid to not put two and two together. We've been friends with him just as long as you have, you know. We know when he's acting off."

She leaned forward again, her expression turning serious again.

“And even if none of us knew, we aren't blind enough to miss how you've been avoiding everyone like the goddamn plague. Do you have any idea how shitty it feels to see our friend, someone we care about, acting like we don't exist, just because they're too scared to talk about a boy?"

She shook her head, her voice tinged with frustration now. “So yes. I know about the girl. And it's pissing me off to see you let it go down this way."

“A boy who’s also in the same friendgroup as you and can literally make things awkward once we date each other.”

Yunjin rolled her eyes yet again, her expression going fond despite herself. “Regardless, he’s a friend who's head over heels for you. You really think we don't see it? The tension between the two of you? The looks, the stolen touches during hangouts, the way his eyes follow you around like some goddamn lost puppy…?"

She paused, shaking her head as she leaned back in her chair. “Hell, even the way he talks about you when you're not around…it's sickeningly sweet."

Your gaze drop again, “That night, we argued. After I push him away, he just stopped fighting back. We…we never really argued like that before, you know?”

Yunjin's expression softened as she took in your demeanor—the way you were avoiding her gaze, staring down at your hands like your whole damn world was falling apart.

She reached across the table, her voice quieter now, more gentle. "Hey… Look at me.”

"Arguing means you care." Her voice dropped lower—almost fierce now. “You think Jake and his girl never fight? They fight a lot during our hangouts, even sometimes she left without him. It’s hilarious.”

A pause as she leaned in closer, “But the next time we see them? They’re closer than ever.”

Yunjin's grip on your wrist tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you look at her. Her expression was dead serious now.

"Listen to me." Her voice was low, firm.

"Heeseung is a goddamn idiot for letting things go that far with some random girl when it's you he wants. But if you're really this scared?"

She let out a slow breath before continuing,

"Then go talk to him before this gets any more messed up. Or I swear to god, I'll drag both of you into a closet and lock the door until one of ya says something real."

You chuckle, before shaking your head.

“No need, I’ll…try to call him today.” You smile at her, in which she smiled back.

Yunjin's smirk returned, sharp and victorious.

"Good. Because I will follow through on that threat."

She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed—looking way too smug for someone who just basically blackmailed you into fixing your love life. "And if he picks up? Don't be a coward about it. Just say what you mean."

A pause as she pointed a warning finger at you, "Or I will find out…and then we're having another talk."

A few hours had passed since lunch, and the moon was up high in the sky when you finally worked up the courage—your finger hovering over the call button.

Heeseung's contact stared up at you from the screen, the profile picture a stupid picture of him making a funny face. As the phone rang, your heart thudded in your chest.

Each second felt like forever as the call rang once, twice…and then, finally—on the third ring, Heeseung's voice came through the other end of the line.

"Hello?" His voice was casual, almost distant, like he didn't have a clue what you were calling for.

“…Hi. It’s me.” You say quietly.

There was a pause, a beat of silence on his end—then his voice came through again, lower now, a tinge of hesitancy in the words.

"Hey." The single word was quiet, an uncertain exhale. It sounded like he couldn't tell if you were calling to talk or to yell at him again. The thought sent a pang through you—the same guilt you'd had ever since that goddamn argument with him.

You hummed.

Heeseung exhaled on the other end of the line, almost like he was bracing himself. "Spit it out. I know you didn't call just to say uhm."

His tone wasn’t harsh—just tired, a little rough around the edges. Like maybe he hadn't slept well since that night either.

“…Could you pick me up tonight after work? At 11.”

Heeseung went quiet for a moment, clearly surprised by your request.

You could almost hear his brain working, trying to guess what the hell you were up to.

But eventually, he sighed—a resigned sound, like he knew he was walking straight into your trap, whatever it was.

“Yeah, I can." The words came out with a hint of wariness, but it was clear he'd already made up his mind to do what you asked. “I'll be there."

“Thanks, see you, Hee.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line—almost like he was hesitating, wanting to say something before you hung up. But in the end, he didn't.

"See you." He replied, his voice gruff, before the line clicked to silence. You were left with the buzz of the phone in your hand and a churning guilt in your stomach.

A few hours passed as you finished your shift, the minutes ticking by excruciatingly slow as you tried to keep your mind off of the fact that you'd be seeing Heeseung again in less than an hour.

By the time the clock hit 11, your heart was in your throat, your hands shaking a bit walked out of the office building. You were exhausted, the long shift taking its toll on your body…but that was the least of the things on your mind right now.

Heeseung was already there when you walked out—standing outside the building, leaning against his car and lit cigarette in hand.

He looked…tired.

Almost like he'd had a damn long week too, dark circles under his eyes. But of course, being the goddamn handsome bastard he was, it didn't take away how good he looked.

He pushed off the car when he saw you approach, tossing the cigarette and crushing it under his foot.

“Real nice. Smoking in front of a working civilian? Told ya to quit.”

He scoffed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he opened the car door for you to get in.

The action was so damn effortless—it was so damn natural, the casual ease he had when he was around you. It made your heart twist a bit, but you pushed the thought away.

"What, gonna go all doctor and tell me the dangers of smoking now?" he said dryly, watching as you got in.

Heeseung walked around the car and got in the driver's seat, starting the engine and pulling out of the building’s parking lot.

For a few seconds, he was silent, staring out the windshield with the same stoic expression he always had.

The only difference was that damn tired look in his eyes, the slight heaviness in the air between you. And then—

"So." He cut through the tense silence, his eyes flicking to you. "You gonna tell me why you wanted me to pick you up at the goddamn office?"

You leaned into his carseat, the familiar scent of his car calming you slightly, but not entirely.

“You always do.”

He rolled his eyes, a scoff leaving his lips as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. And of course that goddamn motion caught your eye, because damn it, those hands were so attractive.

But no. You weren't gonna get distracted by that tonight, no matter how many times the thought had plagued you in the last week.

“Stop avoiding the question, smartass." he said, his gaze glued to the road but his voice sharp.

I sighed. “I’m sorry, for acting stupid the other night.”

Heeseung's gaze flicked to you for a second before he focused back onto the road, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he replied.

There was a hint of something in his voice—like you'd just hit a damn nerve.

“That's all I get? Just an apology and nothing else?" His voice was low, rough around the edges. Like he was trying to hold himself back from saying something else, some damn emotion that was itching to come out.

Heeseung exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the steering wheel again—knuckles going white for a second before he forced himself to relax.

“You kept pushing me away like I was some goddamn mistake." The words came out rough, almost pained. "And then you got pissed when I went and found someone who didn't make me feel like garbage. That's what this is about."

A pause as he shot you a sideways glance, “So yeah. You were acting stupid."

You winced under the harsh words, the guilt in your gut twisting harder at the truth in the words. Because the worst part was, he was right.

You'd been a goddamn hypocrite, expecting him to wait around for you like some idiot while you pushed him away yourself.

But you weren't gonna admit that. Not right now, when he was acting like that.

So you forced yourself to scoff, crossing your arms over your chest defensively—trying to hide the damn guilt from him. From yourself. “That's a goddamn exaggeration and you know it. That’s why I’m apologising right now.”

Heeseung huffed in disbelief at your damn nonchalance, his eyes still fixed on the road in front of him.

But you didn't miss the way his jaw clenched, the way his fingers tightened on the steering wheel—he was trying goddamn hard to hold back his emotions, to keep his cool.

But he was failing. You could see it in the tension in his shoulders, the tightness in his jaw.

He was frustrated.

“Yeah, well…your apology sucks."

“…Want me to write a letter?”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips—short, sharp laugh that sounded more like a scoff. The sound sent a pang through you. Damn it, he really was frustrated.

“How 'bout an essay, smartass." He shot back with a mocking tilt to his lips. “With proper citations and everything."

You sigh, “Are you…still talking to that girl?”

Heeseung's grip on the steering wheel tightened for a split second—his jaw clenching as he shot you a sharp glance. The question clearly caught him off guard, and from the look in his eyes? He wasn't about to let that slide.

“That's what this is about?" His voice dropped lower, rougher. "You want to know if I'm still talking to her? After all that goddamn guilt-tripping?"

A bitter scoff left his lips before he added, "No. Not anymore.”

“I’m not guilt-tripping.” You try to say,

Heeseung scoffed at your denial, the sound harsh and disbelieving. Like you were being a goddamn idiot and he had no patience for it.

“Bullshit,"he said bluntly, his knuckles turning white around the steering wheel again.

"You say you're sorry for acting like an idiot, and then in the very next moment, you ask me about some other girl. That's textbook guilt-tripping."

He glanced at you again, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Or do you not think I can see straight through you?"

The silence in the car went on for a few seconds, the air thick with tension. You could've heard a damn pin drop.

Heeseung's irritation lingered, his jaw clenching as he gripped the steering wheel like he was fighting the urge to snap at you.

His fingers drummed an irritated rhythm against the wheel, like he was trying to burn off some of the anger with that small motion.

"Say something, goddamnit."

“…I didn’t want to tell the others about us not because I’m embarrassed of you.” You start,

“It’s..just complicated. We’re not dating. It’s casual. So why do we have to tell them? We don’t owe them anything.”

Heeseung's expression hardened at your words, the look in his eyes almost cold now. He didn't look at you as he spoke, his gaze fixed firmly on the road ahead, but his tone was sharp.

"Right. So it's casual." He huffed out a humorless laugh, the sound bitter. "And yet for some goddamn reason, you still get all jealous when I start talking to someone else."

“For the love of God, let me finish!” You huff, and it’s like the normal banter you always have again, except it’s nothing unserious.

Heeseung's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his jaw clenching as he exhaled sharply through his nose.

The car fell into a heavy silence for a second—just the hum of tires against pavement and your own damn heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"Fine." he finally bit out, still not looking at you. "Finish. But don't act surprised when I call bullshit on whatever excuse you're about to pull."

“…It was casual. But is it really? Even when we weren’t in bed, you’d still call me petnames.” You sigh,

Still make me meals, still stay the night, still drive me to and from work. I mean, you’re my best friend. But…I feel..something now.”

Heeseung's shoulders tensed as you spoke, his jaw clenching slightly as you listed off all the…coupley things he did for you.

It was like you were listing off every little thing he did to show you he cared, every way he proved he wasn't just some casual hook-up. And you were right, goddamnit—he did all of that. He always had.

There was a long, heavy silence, and then he forced out a quiet, "What do you feel?"

You look at you trembling hands, “Love.”

His breath stuttered for a split second, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel even more. The word hit him like a damn ton of bricks.

He'd been expecting some excuse, some stupid justification—some reason for why you felt something now.

But love? He almost couldn't believe his own goddamn ears.

He shot you a sharp, disbelieving look, like he was trying to see if you meant it. Like he was trying to see if this was just some cruel joke.

You take another deep breath, “Well-that's what I felt. At least,” looking outside the window.

“But I'm scared. Because we did everything out of order, and I'm not sure if we'll be okay. If-If we stopped, I'm not only gonna lose my boyfriend, but my best friend." You continue, voice slightly trembling now.

Heeseung went quiet, his expression softening slightly as he realized you were serious-as he saw the tremble in your voice, the fear on your face.

He wanted to tell you it would be okay. He wanted to pull you into his arms, to wrap you up in his embrace and soothe away the damn anxiety he heard in your words.

But he didn't. He took a deep breath, his shoulders tensing again as he gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.

"..ls that the only reason you're telling me this now? Because you're scared of losing a friend?"

“You’re not just a friend, Hee. You’re basically my other half.” You confess,

A low, heavy sigh left Heeseung's lips at those words, and this time, his shoulders slumped slightly.

It was like all the frustrated tension finally left his body, leaving just the tired, worn-out weight of those words.

Hearing you say that...it did something to him. It made his heart clench, made his breathing get a little uneven.

He looked over at you then, the look on his face almost vulnerable. "...Your other half, huh?"

You nod, not trying to filter anything now.

“You’re my other half, someone who knows me the most— I don’t— I don’t think I can live normally again if we ever stopped being together, friends and all.”

His breath caught in his throat at that statement, his chest tightening painfully.

You were saying the words so damn casually, like you didn't realize the weight they carried for him. He had to force himself to breathe, to speak past the sudden emotional lump in his throat.

His voice was a little hoarse when he finally managed to grit out a question. "And you're just telling me this now? After a whole goddamn week of avoiding each other? After years of dragging it as some hookup?”

You keep quiet, silenced.

“That’s a question, Y/N.” He bite out.

“I’m sorry.”

Your apologies are like a broken record by now, as he let out a bitter laugh.

“You’ve said that.”

“But it’s the truth! I’m sorry I hurt you because I know I did, and I wasn’t acting my feelings for years straight.”

He let out a sharp exhaled at your words, his jaw clenching as he tried to swallow back the mix of irritation and...hope that flared in him at your confession.

The mix of emotions was getting to be too damn much. He was tired, he was frustrated, and he was tired of the games.

He glanced over at you-and dammit if you didn't look like you meant it.

And Heeseung, damn his bleeding heart, couldn't deny that look in your eyes. He let out a low, exasperated sigh.

"You goddamn idiot." He said, his voice gruff.

"Do you have any idea how pissed I was? How goddamn frustrated l've been all week? I didn't know if you just regretted it, if you thought I was some stupid mistake, if...if I meant anything to you."

The words left his lips before he could stop them, a hint of vulnerability in the tone.

He was being damn honest for once, letting some of the emotional mess swirling around in his head spill out in front of you like that.

And you didn’t even realize you’ve arrived to your complex. But he didn’t ask you to leave yet, he just parked his car and switched off the engine, the sudden silence in the car suddenly deafening.

For a moment, both of you just sat there, the tension in the air almost stifling.

Then, he looks over to you. His expressions are unreadable.

“We’re here.” he said simply, like it was some kind of warning.

A warning that this conversation was about to continue, and there was no avoiding it.

“You were never, ever a mistake to me.” You look into his eyes.

Heeseung's breath hitched at your words, the honest admission sending a pang through his heart.

He'd been going back and forth between annoyance and irritation all goddamn week-trying to convince himself you just regretted the hookup, trying to ignore the fact that he still wanted you.

Hearing you say that, hearing that quiet honesty in your voice—it made it hard to hold onto the irritation.

It made him feel guilty for doubting you in the first place but damn it, he was still angry.

He stared at you for a long moment—your expression, the way your hands were fidgeting in your lap.

The vulnerability in it all made his chest ache. He exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand over his face like he was trying to physically push back the damn emotions clogging up his throat.

"I know that now," he finally muttered, "But it took you avoiding me and acting like I didn't exist for a week to say that shit."

A pause as he turn fully towards you now.

“You don’t get to keep pushing me away and then act like that when I go looking elsewhere.”

“I’m not going to push you away anymore.”

His breath caught in his chest at your quiet admission, the raw sincerity of it making something inside him ache.

He was still pissed—still frustrated beyond belief but the confession did soften the edges.

“Good,” He says gruffly. “Because you’re not going to dismiss my feelings, not again.”

That made you look at him, “What do you feel?”

He froze at your sudden question, his heart leaping in his chest. The look in your eyes was damn intent, leaving no room for bullshit.

You were asking him what he felt-for real this time, not some half-ass excuse or half-true

response.

He clenched his jaw, conflicted. He wanted to be honest. He wanted to tell you exactly how he felt.

But part of him was still pissed, still frustrated by that week of avoiding each other, and he wanted to make you hurt just a little bit, too.

Gosh he’s so petty.

“What do I feel? I’m pissed. Hella freaking pissed,” he bit out at first—zero hesitation, "Because you made me think I wasn't shit to you. That all of this"—a sharp gesture between the two of you—"was just some goddamn mistake."

A pause as he swallowed hard, his voice dropping lower.

"But I also feel like a damn idiot for caring this much when we never even called it what it was."

The sight of you wincing at his bitter confession made something in Heeseung ache, but he didn't let that stop him from speaking.

He'd been keeping this all bottled up for a week, and damn it, it was time for you to hear what that felt like.

He continued, the words falling out like a damn train wreck.

"You have any idea how much of an idiot I've been this past week? | thought you were ashamed of me. Like I was some kind of regret."

There was a note of anger in his voice still, the frustration and hurt of the past week coming out in sharp breaths as he continued.

"I was trying to keep my distance, trying to forget you. But you have no goddamn idea how that felt when I was lying in my bed every damn night, and all I could think of was you."

He took a sharp inhale, his throat tight with emotion. "I'm tired of being the one who cares, damn it."

You retort immediately, “I care too!”

"Then damn it, why didn't you act like it?" He huffed out bitterly, his irritation and frustration getting the best of him. He was angry, so goddamn angry, but the hurt in his voice was undeniable.

"All you did was push me away. You acted cold, you avoided me, you never gave me a straight answer about us! You made me doubt everything we had! So excuse me if I thought you were ashamed!"

“It’s because I’m fucking scared, Hee.”

His shoulders tensed at that sudden outburst,

the raw emotion in your voice finally getting through his walls of anger-piercing through to the vulnerable thing beneath.

He felt that confession down to the very bone-and it only made His own guilt claw at his conscience.

But he was still angry, still hurt, and he needed you to understand why. "Scared of what?" he snapped, voice slowly rising.

"That maybe I'm ruining things with someone who probably know me the best out of everyone!” You snap, “that I'm ruining my friendship with someone I always wanted to be with!"

He felt those words like a punch to the gut. It was like you were saying everything that'd crossed his mind in the past week, and damn if it didn't hurt like hell.

A part of him, the soft part that loved you with all the damn intensity of the sun, wanted to pull you into his arms and soothe your fears.

But the part of him that was still hurt and angry kept him holding back.

"If you were so scared, then why did you let it get this far?” He yell.

“Stop yelling!”

"I'll stop yelling when you start making some goddamn sense!" He fired back, his voice rising again as he struggled to rein in his emotions.

Goddamn it, he knew he was being unreasonably loud, but he couldn't help it.

He was struggling to hold back the mix of anger, hurt, and goddamn affection swirling through him at the sight of you, vulnerable and so damn familiar.

"You can't just avoid me for a week, act distant and cold, and expect me not to be pissed!"

You never heard him scream at you like this, at it scared you.

Your best friend, who’s smug and stupid at time— but always so soft-spoken. That’s one of a million things you loved about him.

The way he speaks— like he’s scared if he’s too loud or too harsh you’ll fade away.

But right now? All of that is out of the window.

Rightfully so, he’s hurt. You hurt him.

And nothing scares you more that hurting the one person you cared the most.

“Please,” you tear up.

Holy fuck, are you crying?

You wanted to slap the shit out of yourself.

“Please don’t yell when I’m so fucking scared right now.”

Heeseung froze the moment he saw your tears, his entire body going rigid.

The anger drained from him in an instant-replaced by something far more visceral, something that made his chest tighten

painfully.

His hands dropped to his sides as he exhaled sharply through clenched teeth, like the fight was being punched out of him at once.

He looked…guilty now.

"Shit." he muttered under his breath before running a hand over his face, "I'm not yelling anymore."

He stayed quiet for a long moment, his jaw working as he fought to keep his own damn emotions in check.

The silence between you was thick with everything unspoken-anger, hurt, fear. But the way your voice had cracked on that last word made something in him cave.

Slowly, deliberately—he reached over and took one of your hands from where it was clenched into fists on your lap. His grip was firm but not tight, grounding.

“I’m not going to yell, I’m sorry.” he says softly, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, the frustration and anger still simmering in his chest-but your quiet plea made him pause.

He wanted to yell, damn it. He needed you to understand how much he'd been hurting too.

"I'm not yelling," he muttered again gruffly-though the way he bit out each word was soft. "But I'm not just gonna sit here and pretend like this didn't fucking destroy me."

A pause as he swallowed hard, forcing himself to lower his voice further when he added, "You don't get to be scared of losing me when you're the one who pushed first."

You look at your hands together, “I don’t know how to do this, Hee.” You confess, “I’m going to mess up again, I’ve messed up, so I don’t…know how to do it,” you bite out, “But I know I want to be with you.”

His grip on the steering wheel loosened slightly as he stared at you—really looked at you—for the first time since this whole damn mess started.

"You don't get to say that," he muttered, but there was no real bite left in his words now. Just exhaustion.

A pause as he exhaled sharply, "But...if you really want this? Then we figure it out. Together."

“You mean everything to me,” you say. The tears never stopped.

At that quiet declaration, He felt his heart twist and some of the anger left draining from him ever further.

But he wanted you to be sure. He wasn’t going to accept this all sincerely and then watch you push him away again once your friends are in the room.

“Like hell I mean everything to you, after the shit—” He starts but you cut him off before he could even continue.

“I know I acted like shit recently, heck, maybe even months now. But before that?” You look into his eyes, “All the years before? When we were kids and the grandmas in the neighborhood always predicted we’d get married? Isn’t that obvious, you jerk?” If you weren’t then, now you are full on sobbing.

Heeseung felt something in his chest ache at those memories. Those years you spent growing up together. The elderly neighbors who'd always tease about how cute you were together, how sure they were that you'd end up getting married down the line.

Those damn memories were playing on repeat in his mind, and it only made him feel all more frustrated.

He bit back a scoff, shaking his head slightly as the words left him in a low mutter. "You still pushed me away for months, idiot."

“Well I’m a little stupid, sorry!”

He couldn't help but huff out a dry, humorless laugh.

Your blunt confession, just blurting out that you were sorry and stupid... it was so damn typical of you that he couldn't stay angry for much longer.

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, shaking his head as he muttered, "You're more than a little stupid, you know that?" He smiles, and you sob harder.

He finally reaches out, taking both of your hands together now.

“Stop crying, you’re not a kid anymore.” He kisses your hands.

“I’m trying. But it kept pouring out.” You whine softly.

He felt his lips twitch at that whiny tone—so typical of you. Even in moments like this, you still manage to make him feel giddy.

He squeezed your hands tightly, “No more crying, baby.”

That was the last thing he says before guiding you to sit on his lap in the driver’s seat, pulling you against his chest.

You break again, like the comfort finally reaches you from the anxiety of this whole talk.

Heeseung let out a slow, tired breath as you practically collapsed into him-your sobs muffled against his chest.

The weight of your body against his, the way you clung to him like he was some damn lifeline...it made something in his heart twist painfully.

“You’re okay,” He kisses your temple. “I’m here, I got you.”

One of his hands tangles in your hair, playing with the strands as he feels you calm down.

He could feel a lot of things at once. The rise and fall of your chest against his, the press of your legs against his, the way you gripped his shirt tighter in your fists...it was maddening.

“I love you.” You mutter, lips pressing against his chest as you feel his beating heart.

He smiles, hearing you say that felt so good—especially after years doubting everything between you two.

He took a shaky breath, his arms tightening around you even as he muttered,

"I love you too, idiot."

“That’s not what you call me.”

He let out a low, amused huff at that— your sniffly protest was so adorable it made his chest ache. He pulled away slightly to cup your face in his hands, wiping away the lingering tears with rough thumbs.

“I love you, baby.” He smiles.

When he sees you cry again, he laughs and tuck your face into the crook of his neck-letting you soak his shirt with those damn tears.

“What am I going to do with you?” He chuckles in your hair.

Heeseung let you cry against him for God knows how long, just running his fingers through your hair and holding you close.

He'd always been a quiet and relatively patient person, but damn it if it didn't take everything in him to keep from falling to pieces at the feeling of you crying in his arms.

Eventually, though, he knew this needed to stop. He'd been putting off the hard conversation for far too long. So he pulled your face out of his neck, forcing you to look up at him with a gruff "Hey, look at me.”

Staring down at you for a long moment, he takes in your beautiful face despite the tears.

Your eyes were red and puffy, your cheeks flushed and wet. You looked so damn vulnerable, and it made his chest ache in a way that was almost too much to handle.

But he had to be the one to push through it this time. He knew you needed him to be the stronger one right now.

“I need you to listen and answer okay? Truthfully.”

Heeseung let go of your face, his hands dropping to your hips now, holding you tightly in place on his lap.

He didn't want you to look away-didn't want to lose your focus for even a second. He kept his gaze locked with yours, his expression unwaveringly serious.

The way you were looking back at him? So damn vulnerable and open, make his heart hurt like hell.

“Why’d you push me away, baby?” He asks, this time he wants a clear answer from you.

No more It’s because I’m stupid bullshit.

“Because…” You look at him, “It’s too much.” You pat your heart, “Right here. And I have this nagging voice that if I am beside you any more without letting it out, the wrong words are gonna come out." You wince.

"And then, I saw you kissing that girl."

"It was my fault of course, but...still hurt." You chuckle.

Heeseung listened in silence as the words spilled out of you. He still had you sitting in his lap, still holding onto you with a tight, almost possessive grip.

The sound of your voice was shaky, the confession making the ache in his chest intensify even more.

And then you had to go and bring up that innocent girl he used to numb whatever you two had going on?

He swallowed hard, clenching his jaw for a moment before replying, "That was nothing. You know that."

“Still, Hee.”

Heeseung exhaled sharply through his nose, "It was nothing," he repeated firmly, gripping your hips tighter as he stared at you with a hard expression.

“I kissed her because I was pissed off, I was confused as hell after the way we left things. I didn’t know where we stand, even if I was confident I loved you, It was still confusing.”

“You were hurt.”

He shakes his head. “I was, but I still acted like an asshole about it. I want you. Only you, but I still kissed her.”

A pause as he looked away briefly, clearly struggling with himself for a second before turning back to you with sharp eyes.

"But I don't want us to keep doing this shit—avoiding each other and pushing one another away just because we're scared of what might happen if things go wrong."

He brings his hand to cup your cheek as you lean in.

“We’re better than this, baby. We’re adults. We need to communicate, or none of this is ever going to work. You hear me?”

You give him soft nod. He searched for any hint of hesitation, and when he sees one? He let out a deep sigh.

“Good girl.” He smiles, “We’re going to tell each other everything from now on. No more pushing, no more running.”

“I want to be exclusive.” You say, out of nowhere. Thinking it was the best time to clarify.

He raised his eyebrows at that, “Yeah? Want me to be your boyfriend, princess? Say it again.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “You heard me, I’m gonna take it back—”

“Nope. You’re so not.” He laughs. "Not when I've been waiting to hear those damn words from you since we were goddamn ten years old, baby."

Huh?

Those words made you snap. You grab his face, and crush your lips together.

There was only a second of hesitation from him before he was kissing you back, his hand on your hip pulling you even closer as his lips crashed against yours.

There was something almost desperate to it, the months of hurt and longing and pent up emotions from the past week suddenly catching up to him now.

He kissed you hungrily, almost roughly, until finally pulling back slightly-gasping for air with your foreheads pressed together. His voice came out barely above a whisper:

"You're mine, got it?"

“And you?”

“All yours.” He smile and leaned down to kiss you again, his lips moving roughly against yours. This time a low, possessive sound left his chest-his tongue darting out to push past your lips with an almost feral need. He was claiming your mouth with his own, dominating without question.

When you both finally pull away, his breathing was labored, the hand on your face dropping to your hip once more in a tight grip.

He sees your expression, so honest and exhausted. But full, so full of love. Your eyes a bit hazy and dazed, like he can feel the tiredness all over you.

“Long day, yeah?”

You nod, and he chuckles. “Let’s get you inside.”

Heeseung kept a tight, protective grip on you as you got out of the car, his arm wrapping around your waist to steady you.

He could tell you were barely staying standing, and he was determined to get you inside and taken care of as quickly as possible.

Without another word, he closed the door and started leading you towards your complex, his eyes scanning the surroundings around you for any potential dangers.

Despite his usual nonchalant demeanor, there was a subtle protectiveness in the way he held you close to him—a determined edge to his expression.

The elevator ride up was short-lived, and soon enough they were stepping through the doors into your apartment.

He kept a steadying hand on your waist as you walked inside, guiding you towards your room.

Heeseung led you straight to your bed, carefully helping you sit down on the edge of it. His eyes roamed over you, taking in your exhausted state with a mixture of concern and affection.

The urge to get you comfortable and taken care of was practically overwhelming.

He gently tugged on your arm, his voice soft and gruff. "Lay down."

You obeyed, slowly laying back on the bed.

Something about the way you looked right now was so vulnerable, so damn soft, it was almost making his head spin.

But he pushed past the emotions swirling in his chest, determined to get you cared for first.

He knelt at the edge of the bed, his eyes scanning your face with a mix of concern and tenderness.

"I'll be right back, okay?Just gonna get something."

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze before reluctantly letting go. Getting up, he moved across the room, rummaging through your drawers until he found some comfortable clothes for you.

He quickly grabbed a tank top and hoodie, along with some sweatpants, before making his way back over to the bed.

Kneeling beside the bed again, he looked down at you. "Sit up for a second."

He waited until you pushed yourself up into a sitting position, and then he started helping you out of your clothes.

His touch was gentle as he pulled your top off, his eyes roaming over your skin almost reverently.

He could see the weariness in your movements, and he worked quickly, but his fingers lingered against your skin with a tender touch. Once you were wearing the tank top, he offered you the hoodie next. He helped you into the hoodie, watching as the fabric swallowed you up.

The way you looked now—wearing his hoodie and looking so damn tired—was somehow unbearably endearing and it only made the protectiveness in his chest intensify.

But he kept his focus, helping you slide out of your pants and into the sweatpants next.

Throughout the entire process, his touch was careful and gentle, his eyes lingering on each piece of skin he exposed.

Once you were changed into the comfortable clothes, he helped you lay back down on the bed.

He pulled the covers up over your body, making sure you were properly tucked in and cozy. His eyes scanned your face for a moment, taking in how exhausted you looked once again.

He reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his voice low and gruff.

"Go to sleep, okay? You're dead on your feet, baby."

You replied with a soft pat on the space beside you on the bed.

Heeseung couldn't help the small smile that pulled at his lips as you patted the space beside you, the wordless request obvious.

He knew you were asking him to stay. And damn it, if that wasn't one of his favorite things in the world.

He didn't hesitate, carefully climbing onto the bed next to you. His arm immediately went around your waist, pulling you closer until you were tucked against him.

He settled behind you, adjusting your bodies until you were cuddled against him, your back pressed against his chest.

He could feel the exhaustion coming off you in waves, and the feeling filled his chest with a mix of affection and concern.

He tightened his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer, almost possessively. He nuzzled his face into your hair, inhaling the familiar scent.

His voice was quiet and gruff as he spoke, almost a whisper next to your ear. "Go to sleep, baby. I'll stay with you."

He continued to hold you close, his body molded against yours. He could feel the way your tired body relaxed into his embrace, the way you automatically shifted closer against him.

His hand on your waist began tracing slow, idle circles against your side, hoping the gentle touch would soothe you even more.

“I love you,” was the last thing you hear before drifting off to sleep.

Morning settles softly over the room, pale light slipping through the curtains and stretching across the bed where Heeseung wakes first, eyes blinking open slowly as the quiet replaces last night’s noise.

For a moment, he doesn’t move—just lies there, one arm still draped loosely around you, your head tucked against his shoulder, hair slightly undone from sleep.

There’s a faint crease on your cheek from the pillow, your breathing even, steady, like none of the tension from before followed you into the morning.

He shifts just enough to look at you properly, gaze lingering in a way he’d never admit out loud, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your arm before he exhales softly, like he’s trying not to disturb something fragile.

He feels you stir awake slowly, and register the warmth between the both of you.

Your lashes flutter open, adjusting to the soft morning light spilling through the curtains, and for a second you don’t move, still caught somewhere between sleep and awareness.

Then you realize where you are—how close you are—and your fingers instinctively curl slightly against his shirt.

“Hi,” he mutters, his smile soft and still heavy with sleep.

Up close, it’s different—quieter than anything he ever gives you when he’s fully awake. His eyes are half-lidded, hair slightly tousled, and there’s something unguarded in the way he looks at you, like he hasn’t had the chance to put his walls back up yet.

His thumb brushes faintly against your arm again, slow, absent, like he’s still halfway dreaming.

“You’re up early,” you murmur, voice still rough as you shift slightly against him, but not enough to pull away.

Heeseung lets out a quiet hum, the corner of his lips lifting just a little more.

“Could say the same about you.”

Neither of you moves after that.

The morning stretches between you, calm and fragile, like if either of you says the wrong thing, it’ll snap back into what you usually are.

“You should sleep more, you were so tired last night,” he suggests, his hand moves to your hip for a grounding grip.

“You should sleep more—you were so tired last night,” he murmurs, voice still low, still soft in that way he never lets it be during the day.

His hand slides from your arm to your hip, settling there like it belongs, fingers pressing lightly—just enough to keep you from drifting too far away.

The touch is grounding.

Steady.

You let out a small breath, barely noticeable, your body sinking a little more into the mattress despite yourself.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, though your voice betrays how heavy sleep still feels in your limbs.

Lee Heeseung huffs quietly, almost amused, his thumb brushing once against your side.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

You shift slightly, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the slow, even rhythm beneath your palm.

For a second, neither of you says anything, the silence filled only by quiet breathing and the soft rustle of sheets.

Suddenly, he shifts closer, his head dipping into the crook of your neck, breath warm against your skin. His lips follow a moment later—slow, lingering, open-mouthed presses that make you inhale sharply, your fingers tightening slightly against his shirt.

It’s unhurried.

Sleepy, almost.

Like he’s not fully thinking—just acting on instinct, on familiarity.

His hand at your hip steadies you when you shift, thumb pressing lightly as he continues, each kiss softer than the last but no less intentional.

The quiet of the morning wraps around you both, broken only by the faint rustle of sheets and your uneven breathing.

You tilt your head just a little, giving him space without realizing it, and he exhales softly against your skin, like he notices.

You hum, while he continues mouthing at your collarbone.

“Hee, it’s—” you glance at the clock on the nightstand, squinting slightly, “9 in the morning,” you sigh.

He doesn’t pull away.

If anything, Heeseung just exhales softly against your neck, lips still brushing your skin in slow, unhurried presses, like the time doesn’t matter.

“Mm,” he hums, voice muffled.

His hand on your hip tightens just slightly when you shift, keeping you right where you are.

“I missed you, baby.” He nuzzle his nose against your jaw, trying to coax you into giving in.

Sly fox.

“I’m right here.” You smile.

“But I want to kiss you all over, make you feel good.” He murmur again, voice turning slightly whiny.

You let out a small laugh, which died as soon as he moves his hand to cup your clothed core.

“You’ll let me, right? You’ll let me love this sweet body of yours?”

He looks into your eyes, asking for permission.

“But breakfast…”

“It’s Saturday, baby. We can have breakfast at 2PM.” He whines.

You grin, before nodding.

Heeseung wasted no time in claiming the skin of your neck, his mouth and tongue working at your pulse point, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat once again.

The entire time, his hands roamed your body, pushing up the bottom of your hoodie and tanktop and slipping underneath to touch your overheated skin.

He practically groaned at the feeling of you, hot and pliant underneath him—he's been dying to touch you like this for days now.

His hands were rough as they groped your breasts, his fingers pinching and rolling the hardened peaks between them. His mouth left wet trails along your collarbone before latching onto one nipple—sucking hard through the fabric of your top.

"Fuck," he groaned against you, his hips grinding down instinctively, "You always taste so damn good."

A sharp nip to punctuate it—because he knew you liked that little sting.

You help him take off your clothes, hands trembling slightly.

Heeseung lifted his head at the sudden motion, staring at you hungrily as he watched you lift your shirt up.

"Good girl."he said, his eyes dark with intensity as he watched your movements."That's it. Show me."

His breath hitched as he took in the sight of you—bare, flushed, and already so damn needy for him. His gaze raked over your exposed skin like a starving man at a feast.

“Beautiful, my woman.”

Without another second of hesitation, his mouth descended on one peaked nipple—sucking hard while his fingers pinched the other between rough fingertips.

Heeseung's tongue flicked against the hardened peak as he sucked and swirled it around in his mouth. It wasn't enough, though. He nipped and lapped at your skin—his hand moving from your chest to your inner thigh.”

It was almost as if he was intent on memorizing every inch of your body with his touch, leaving no area unmarked by his lips and teeth.

“Mm, I could stay like this forever," he murmured, his words partially muffled against your skin.

His hand skimmed up your thigh, pushing up the hem of your pants. He pushed them down just far enough to bare your legs to his sight, and his mouth left your breast to press kisses along the soft skin.

"Lift your hips."

The order was said in a rough, lust-filled tone, and he didn't give you even a second to hesitate before hooking a finger into the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down your legs.

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, now fully exposed before.

Heeseung practically growled as he took in the sight of you—bare, exposed, and so damn perfect.

His fingers dug into your hips for a second before sliding lower to grip the backs of your thighs, yanking you closer to him.

"You're already wet for me? I'm not holding back, baby.”

His hands were everywhere, touching you with a mixture of impatience and desperation. His mouth latched onto the soft skin of your neck, sucking and biting down on your pulse until he left a blossoming mark behind.

He wanted you, and he wanted you now.

"Can't wait to be inside of you," Heeseung hissed against your skin. “Can’t wait to love you until I’m milked dry.”

“Watch me touch myself first.”

Heeseung had to hold back a groan at your suggestion.

While his main goal right now was to be inside of you, the thought of watching you touch yourself right in front of him sounded almost sinful.

During your hookups, Heeseung was the one that take the lead but once in a while, you would gibe suggestions like these.

To try and experiment with each other, of course.

"Yeah? You wanna put on a show?" he teased, an eyebrow raised as he pulled away slightly to look at you. He already sounded breathless just from the thought of it—he was practically salivating for the sight.

Heeseung's expression darkened as he watched you, his eyes glued to the sight of your hands slowly moving over yourself.

Your smaller fingers rubbing your bundle of nerves, still sensitive after waking up.

He couldn't tear his gaze away for a second, as if he was a starving man staring at his prey. His own hands flexed against your thighs, pressing more firmly into the soft skin as he fought the urge to take over and touch you himself.

This was your show right now—not his. He had to be patient.

"So pretty," he murmured hoarsely, "All for me to watch." His eyes darkened even further. That tone of your voice, the way you looked right now... God, if you weren't careful, he was going to lose all self-control and take over again.

“Hee…Touch yourself too..”

He swallowed thickly, the sound almost audible to your ears. His breathing was already shaky, his voice strained as he replied.

"Yeah? You want me to touch myself for you, baby?” Heeseung's breath hitched as he watched you nod, his hands immediately moving to the waistband of his jeans.

His fingers fumbled slightly in his haste—he wasn't used to being this desperate for something so simple.

"You're lucky I'm weak for you."

With one rough yank, he pulled down just enough fabric to free himself—already hard and aching from watching you. His grip tightened around the base as a groan escaped him at the first touch.

He was going to die just watching you.

His chest was rising and falling heavily, and he could feel his self-control hanging on by a mere thread at this point.

He wanted to touch you, to be the one to touch you—but the sight of you touching yourself like this just for him was almost torturous.

"Mmm, look at me, baby." he commanded hoarsely."Want you to keep your eyes open while you do that for me."

Heeseung's grip on himself tightened painfully as he watched you slip your fingers inside, his breath hitching in response to the wet sound.

His eyes were practically glued to where you touched yourself—his entire body tensed with need.

"Fuck, that's it," he gritted out between clenched teeth, "Keep going just like that."

A rough thrust of his own hand matched yours instinctively—mimicking the rhythm you set for him.

You whine with need when you feel your own fingers aren’t enough to reach the places that can make you see stars.

Heeseung's hips jerked forward involuntarily, a strangled groan tearing from his throat as he watched you.

His knuckles whitened where they gripped himself-too close to the edge already just from watching you.

"Y/N," he warned lowly, "You keep making those sounds and I'm not gonna last." A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as he fought for control-his entire body coiled tight with desperation.

His head was swimming; the air felt like it was crackling with electricity. Every nerve was on fire, desperate for release.

He needed you, but there was something about watching you like this—so open, so vulnerable, so perfect—that he couldn't stop himself from prolonging his suffering.

"Sweetheart, I need to touch you..." he gasped out, a strangled plea on his lips. "Please..."

The moment you removed your fingers, giving him permission, he moved forward with an almost feral speed to grab you by the hips and pull you closer-settling himself right between your spread legs.

"You have no idea how much I ache for you," he muttered hoarsely, his voice rough with need. "I need you so much."

Heeseung's mouth crashed against yours before you could respond, his lips moving hungrily over yours.

There was no tenderness, only a raw, desperate need as he claimed your mouth completely. His hands were everywhere, touching you with a rough familiarity that spoke of his desperate need to feel every part of you all at once.

His breath came out in a sharp, ragged exhale as he pressed the thick head of his cock against your entrance-teasing, torturing both of you with the slow drag.

His entire body was trembling from how hard it was for him to not just shove inside right then and there.

“Ready, baby?”

And when you finally nod, he slides in with zero resistance, given how soaked you are.

A guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buried himself to the hilt, both of you immediately losing your sleepy haze.

"Fuck-" he choked out, forehead dropping to yours, "You feel so damn good."

A ragged breath before he started moving

-deep, punishing rolls of his hips that left no room for gentleness.

“Ngh, fuck—Hee!”

Heeseung's entire body locked up at the sound of your voice, his hips stuttering to a halt for a second. The way you clenched around him-tight, wet, perfect-had his vision whiting out for half a second.

"Fucking hell," he rasped against your neck, "You're trying to kill me."

A rough grind of his pelvis pressed even deeper as he fought not to lose it right then and there.

He needed you so badly right now. More than he'd ever needed anyone—and he never thought he could possibly be this addicted to someone, but here he was.

Addicted to you, his love.

Completely and utterly addicted to the feel of your skin against his, the sounds you made as he moved inside you, the way you looked at him like he was the center of your entire world.

“All this, mine, right?” He murmurs in between moans. “No one else to touch, to love, to have.”

He stops for a second, pulling back making you whine due to the sudden absence.

“Shh, baby, I know—I know.” He cooed, grabbing a pillow to move it under you, and then entering you again.

The angle change made the both of you breathless. He felt even deeper than what you thought was possible.

“So good—you’re so good for me.”

You felt the tight knot forming, and started clenching harder around him—making him jolt forward.

“Shit—baby, I know, I’ll get you there, yeah?” He kisses your temple.

He speeds up his thrusts, his tip hitting hard against your cervix.

He pulled you closer, his lips trailing up your neck to your ear, his breathing ragged against your skin.

“Come with me, baby.” He murmur, “That’s my girl.” He smiles when he feels you arch and tremble as your climax ran through you.

A ragged, guttural groan tore from his throat as he buried himself impossibly deeper-his entire body shuddering with release. His grip on you was ironclad, like he was afraid you'd vanish the second he let go.

"Fuck-yes," he panted against your sweat-slicked skin, "Mine. Only mine."

A few more rough thrusts before his hips stilled completely-spent and wrecked in the best way possible.

He dropped on top of you, making sure not to crush you with his weight as the both of you catch your breaths.

He got up, looking at you disheveled state. His hand ran through the sweaty hair sticking to your face, taking a good look at his girlfriend.

“How can it feel even better when we’re finally together now?”

he’s so focused on how good you look, how soft your skin must feel, the taste of the lip gloss smudged on your lips. it takes a moment for a brain to catch up. for him to register what he’s actually looking at and for him to notice the text you sent directly underneath: for good luck! 🍀

he hates the way his shoulders slump, realization settling in his chest. the heavy feeling of disappointment that comes along with it. because, despite how wrong it was, this was something he’s imagined before. you laid out for him, looking at him in the way he’s only seen glimpses of, making the same noises he hears too often through the walls. this time for him. and that’s the problem. because no matter how often he imagined him, that would never be the case. even right now with this picture on his screen and a stiffness growing between his legs, it’s not real.

you’re with jake. and you are, like you’ve always been, just barely out of reach. and this message was just proof of that. you’re sending your boyfriend good luck nudes while he’s away, thinking about him even when he wasn’t right there in your face. it couldn’t be any clearer. his thumb twitches, hovering over the screen like he doesn’t know what to do with it. his chest feels tighter than before, a tight heat settling low in his stomach before he forces himself to tap the message bar, staring at the letters as if they’ll give him an answer.

and just as quickly as the picture had appeared, it’s disappearing from his eyes. being replaced with the boring text. jake’s girlfriend has unsent a message. he exhales, lifting a hand to run through his eyes, eyes squeezing shut for a second like that might help. but it doesn’t. the image has been burned into his memory. the way your arm stretched toward the camera, the lazy tilt of your head, the fact that you had taken that for someone else. when he’s reopening his eyes, they’re focusing on the bouncing bubbles indicating you’re typing. his heart drops, jaw tightening as he sits in anticipation of what you could possibly say.

two full seconds pass before his phone is dinging in his hands. his body reacts like a trauma response, eyes dropping to find your all caps response. and the two other messages that follow. and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his lips because how can you be cute even in this moment.

jakes girlfriend | 19:33 OH MY GOD heeseung. pls tell me u didn’t see that…

his eyes linger on your messages for a second too long, like he’s trying to read more into them than he should. like he’d be able to find the hidden meaning in between your words. the embarrassment was obvious. your panic, probably wondering if he had already told jake and blew up your entire relationship. he’d never do that. he knew how you felt about his best friend, the photo you sent just more proof of that.

heeseung | 19:38 barely saw anything. ur good dw.

he feels the lull in the messages and he can picture you on the other side of the screen, sitting up, scrambling, maybe biting your lip the way you do when you’re flustered. it’s cute. your dimples popping out while your cheeks go pink. you’re probably fiddling with your hair, gripping your scalp like you’re trying to physically straighten your thoughts. he found that cute too.

his grip tightens just slightly around his phone. forcing himself to stop thinking of you that way. you weren’t his to think of in anyway despite platonic. he knew that. but still, his heart jumps when another message floats in from you.

jakes girlfriend | 19:41 i’m so sorry!! i meant to send that to jake

obviously. he knew that but seeing it right in front of him, spelled out. snuffing out any confusion that he may have on the situation. it lands heavier than it should. like you were highlighting the line that had already been drawn. and he hates how it makes him feel. heeseung is swallowing, thumb hovering over the screen as all the possible responses rush through his mind.

heeseung | 19:43 it’s okay

because that’s all he can say. it had to be okay. he couldn’t tell you how seeing you like that had all the blood rushing to his dick, how now whenever he closes his eyes the image would appear in his mind. he couldn’t tell you how badly he’s been wanting you, craving you. and now you’ve made it ten times worse. he can’t say anything like that. he shouldn’t.

none of that was your problem. no matter how badly he wanted it to be. has heard enough through the walls to have gained a pretty good idea of how you’d sound, how you’d act. paired with the now mental image of how you’d look - barely clothed and laying beneath him. he can’t seem to focus on anything else. your legs would feel so right wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck as he fucked into you. missionary, so he could see how pretty you looked as he made you fall apart.

his cock throbs behind his zipper and he’s discreetly reaching down to palm at him, masking it as adjusting himself. not like the guys were paying him any mind, the show on the tv all of a sudden interesting and they’re all locked in. heeseung knows he should leave the messages with you like that, you made a mistake - he said it was fine. and that should be it.

but he can’t ignore the tightness in his chest, the insistent twitch of his cock. he’s feeling restless and stupid and a little too honest for his own good. so he’s typing again before he can stop himself. i want you so bad now, though. he stares at the words on the screen before quickly deleting them. yeah, right. he could already see you screenshotting his message and sending it straight to jake. no questions asked. no response either.

ugh, jake. he was so lucky. heeseung starts typing again. jake is so lucky. it’s nice, right? not too risky. acknowledged his friend and the obvious, he was so lucky to have the chance of being with you. and you were so in love with him, that made him the luckiest. his thumb smashes against the backspace out of pure jealousy. neither of you needed to be reminded of jake right now, although you didn’t need reminding. he’s sure jake was already on your mind, you’ve probably moved on to texting him right now. the awkward exchange the last thing on your mind right now.

he starts typing again, pressing send before he can overthink it.

heeseung | 19:59 …you look really pretty though

he regrets it the second the message says delivered, not because it’s wrong. he knew it was wrong the second his fingers started moving. but because it was to much. and he can’t help but assume you don’t want to hear that from him. of course you knew you looked pretty, you wouldn’t be labeling the picture as a good luck charm as you didn’t. but again, it wasn’t meant for heeseung’s eyes - so a compliment from him probably isn’t what you’re wanting right now. or at all.

your typing bubble appears again, the message coming in almost immediately. not an ounce of hesitation in your response.

jakes girlfriend | 19:59 ur not supposed to say that 😭

he’s letting out a quiet huff, something between a laugh and a sigh. he should feel embarrassed. he feels crazy. body sinking into the couch again as a hand drags down his face. his eyes find your message again, reading and rereading it. of course he knows he’s not supposed to say that to you. but what else was he supposed to say? nothing? was he supposed to just sit there and watch his dream girl with someone else and not say anything at all? that didn’t seem fair in the slightest.

heeseung | 20:01 i know heeseung | 20:03 sorry

he’s five letters from confessing when you’re next message is coming in. one after another like you’re rushing against him.

jakes girlfriend | 20:04 it’s fine just pretend u never saw it pls

his eyes zero in on that one word. pretend. he just got a taste of something he’s been craving for the past year and a half and now he has to act like it didn’t happen. like it wasn’t sitting heavy in his chest. like seeing you like that didn’t awaken the feelings he’s been suppressing since jake came home all smiles, giddy that you finally said yes. his body slumps against the cushions, staring up at the ceiling.

for a second, he considers lying. telling you that it’d be easy to pretend. ‘yeah sure, already forgotten’. because that’s what he should say, to ease you. to make sure you never felt uncomfortable around him. so you never had to worry if there was a part of him waiting. wanting. but he’s typing something entirely different instead.

heeseung | 20:06 i’ll try it’s going to be hard…

double entendre. he doesn’t say anything else. he doesn’t need to. locking his phone and tossing it to the side before bringing his attention back to the tv and his friends. the truth sits there anyway, unsent but still lingering somewhere in the cyber world. and he’s not going to forget it. he can’t.

it sucks, but he really can’t. and now, everytime he sees you and jake together, laughing, touching, being shamelessly in love he’s going to remember exactly what that picture looked like.

and unfortunately, he can’t forget who it was meant for either.

────୨ৎ────

No photos. No bullet points about ‘respectful boundaries’ or ‘shared Netflix password.’ Just that blunt, cocky little block of text, like they knew exactly what kind of person would bite anyway. The rent figure was unreal, half what you'd been paying for your shoebox studio that smelled faintly of regret and yesterday's takeout. You stared at it for a full minute, thumb hovering over your phone screen, heart doing that stupid flutter thing it does when you're about to make a decision that's either genius or catastrophic.  

And then there was the line written in red pen, scrawled untidily, looking like a disastrous attempt at cursive.

“She better be hot lol”

Crossed out once, aggressively. Then underlined twice, like whoever wrote it had second thoughts about the shame and decided to recommit. You stared at that part the longest.

Your current apartment smelled like damp carpet and stale air no matter how many candles you burned. The windows rattled every time the train passed. Your landlord had the audacity to send out a mass email about a “maintenance fee adjustment” that was definitely just code for I bought a new car and you’re helping pay for it.

Rent had started to feel like a chokehold. And this, four guys, one girl, big downtown apartment, utilities split five ways, was a stupidly good number. Too good. Which should have been your first red flag. 

Your reflection in the lobby mirror looked tired. A little reckless. The kind of girl who was one bad decision away from either ruining her life or improving it dramatically. You took a picture of the flyer. You hesitated.

You zoomed in on the red scribble. You told yourself you were an adult. That you could handle four random men in a shared space. That this was just housing, not a horror movie opening scene.  Then you texted the number before your common sense could wrestle your thumbs away.

You: Hi, saw the flyer for the roommate spot. Still available? Interested if the details match up. What's the move-in date?

The three dots appeared almost instantly. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. Your stomach did that awful, fluttery dip it does before you step into something you can’t undo.

Unknown: yeah it's open. u got a name sweetheart?

Sweetheart. You actually rolled your eyes. You told yourself you rolled your eyes. But something warm slid low in your stomach anyway. Casual ownership. Teasing. A test.

You: Y/N. And yeah, I do. When can I come see it?

The typing bubbles came back. Stayed. Disappeared. Came back again. Then your phone vibrated with a voice note instead of text. You stared at it for a full second.

Who the fuck sends voice notes to strangers?

You slipped in one earbud like you were about to overhear something you weren’t meant to. You hit play. Chaos. Not the polite kind. Not the muffled, distant kind. The kind that sounds like bodies moving and furniture scraping and too many voices in one space.

“—told you the flyer was too obvious, dumbass—”

“Shut the fuck up, she texted, didn’t she?”

“Bet she’s mid. Fifty says she’s mid.”

“Fifty says she’s a freak who’ll cry after one night.”

Explosive laughter. Low and rough and layered. Someone swore. There was a thud like someone got shoved into a couch. Another voice yelling, “Give me the phone—”

Your pulse was in your throat. It felt intrusive. Intimate. Like you were already inside their space, hearing something raw and unfiltered. Then the chaos snapped. Cut clean. A different presence took over. Closer to the mic. Lower.

“...Y/N, right?” Your name sounded slower in his mouth. Like he’d rolled it around once before saying it.

“This is Heeseung.”

The way he said it wasn’t introduction. It was declaration. The background noise dimmed, not because the room got quieter, but because he stepped away from it. You could picture it without trying: him turning his back to the others, leaning against something, one hand braced on a counter, phone lifted close enough that his breath ghosted the mic.

The kind of voice that didn’t rush. The kind that didn’t need to. “Place is still open. Come by tomorrow. 7 p.m. sharp. We’ll be here.”

We’ll be here. Not I’ll be here. A collective. A warning. There was a beat of silence. Not awkward. Deliberate. “Bring your shit if you like what you see. We don’t do second viewings.”

And then it ended. No goodbye. No emoji. No softening. Just the click of the recording stopping, leaving his voice hanging in your ear like smoke in a closed room. You sat on your sagging futon with the cheap springs poking through the cushion and replayed it. Twice.

The arguing in the background. The laughter. The careless comments. The way he had cut through all of it like a knife sliding into silk. You told yourself they sounded like idiots. You told yourself this was exactly the kind of environment you’d sworn you’d never put yourself in. But your thighs pressed together anyway, tension curling low and restless, not quite fear and not quite excitement.

You imagined the apartment. Exposed brick. Too much space. Music playing too loud. A kitchen that actually had room to breathe in. Four men who moved through it like they owned it. And one empty room.

Waiting. You should have blocked the number. Should have deleted the thread. Should have found a nice, quiet girls-only share in the suburbs where the biggest drama would be someone stealing your almond milk. Instead, you typed back.

You: 7 p.m. tomorrow. Address?

The reply came faster this time.

Heeseung: [pinned location]Don’t be late, sweetheart. We hate waiting.

You read that last line more than once. We hate waiting. It sounded less like a preference and more like a rule. You packed that night with a strange kind of calm. One duffel bag. Just enough clothes to rotate for a few days. Toiletries. Charger. The essentials. You folded each item slowly, like you were preparing for something bigger than just a new address.

Your studio looked even smaller with your things missing. The walls felt closer. The air heavier. You stood in the middle of it and imagined tomorrow. The elevator ride up. The door opening. Four sets of eyes. The apartment smelling like expensive cologne and something darker. Smoke, maybe. Leather. Ego.

You imagined him. Them. All four of them. Either unfairly good-looking men who were complete assholes, or unimpressive men who were still complete assholes. The asshole part was a constant. The hotness was the only variable.

Not that it mattered. Of course it didn’t.

You didn’t know his face, but you knew the voice. Low. Steady. Amused. The kind of voice that didn’t rush for anyone.

You imagined the smirk you’d heard through the speaker, lazy, confident, practiced. Probably rich, too. Not new-money loud, but old-money careless. Daddy’s money had a look. It looked like never checking price tags.

You zipped the duffel closed. This was reckless. Stupid, even. The kind of decision that looked sensible only from far away, like a bruise that passed for lavender in low light. Rent had been pressing in for months, a dull gray weight at the base of your skull, constant as weather. You told yourself that was all this was. Survival. Logistics. Math.

But that wasn’t the whole truth. There was something about his voice. Not the depth of it, not even the amusement. It was the contrast, the velvet laid carefully over something serrated. Chaos humming behind glass. Control presented like a gift.

It had sounded dark blue through the speaker. Not navy. Not midnight. Something electric and expensive. The kind of blue that didn’t apologize for swallowing light. You should have been afraid of it.

Maybe you were. But the risk didn’t feel like falling. Falling was abrupt. Colorless. Final. This felt different. It felt like stepping across the gold line in a painting, the one the artist never meant anyone to cross. Like touching wet paint just to see if it would stain. Like walking into a story that had already decided what to do with you.

7 p.m. Sharp. You arrive at 6:58 p.m.

Not because you’re punctual by nature, but because something about Don’t be late. We hate waiting. lodged under your skin and stayed there all day.

The building is taller than you expected. Glass-fronted. Industrial. The kind of place that tries to look effortless and ends up looking expensive instead. The lobby smells faintly of artificially scented cleaner, probably lemon, and polished concrete. Exposed brick climbs one wall in a deliberate, curated way that says urban charm instead of structural compromise.

You stand in front of the elevator with your duffel bag hooked over one shoulder and a medium-sized suitcase at your side. You told yourself you’d bring only what you needed for a week.

You lied.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft metallic sigh. You step inside. Your reflection in the mirrored walls looks smaller than you feel. Lip gloss reapplied in the car. Hair brushed back into place. A quiet, deliberate choice in your outfit, effortless enough to pretend you didn’t try, fitted enough to know you did.

The numbers climb. Your pulse climbs with them. You tell yourself this is housing. Just housing. Four men sharing rent in a five-bedroom apartment isn’t unheard of. This isn’t a cult. This isn’t a frat house. This isn’t—

The elevator dings. The doors part. And the first thing you hear is laughter. It spills into the hallway like it lives there. Low, overlapping, careless. The door to their unit is already open. You don’t knock. You step inside.

The apartment is bigger than the pictures could’ve shown. High ceilings with steel beams running across them. Floor-to-ceiling windows pouring in late afternoon light that turns everything gold. A massive sectional couch in charcoal gray dominates the living space. There’s a long dining table made of reclaimed wood, scuffed in places that look intentional.

Music hums low from somewhere, bass-heavy, lazy. And then, you see them. All four of them. Shirtless. You stop walking. They’re scattered across the living area in a way that suggests they were doing something physical, lifting, maybe, but not something that required shirts. One is crouched by a stack of flattened cardboard boxes. Another leans against the kitchen island with a bottle of water tipped to his lips. Someone else stands near the couch, forearms flexed as he adjusts the hem of his joggers.

They notice you at the same time. Conversation dies. It’s not dramatic. Not loud. It just… stops. Four pairs of eyes land on you. And stay there. You feel it before you process it. The weight of being looked at. Not glanced. Not politely assessed. Looked at. Slowly. Thoroughly. Like you’re an answer to a question they’ve already been debating.

The one by the kitchen island lowers his bottle first. He’s tall. Lean muscle, not bulky. Collarbone sharp under the light. Damp hair pushed back from his forehead like he’s just showered or run a hand through it too many times. His gaze drags over you without apology. From your shoes. Up your legs.

To your waist. Your chest. Your mouth. Your eyes. He doesn’t look away when you meet his stare. That has to be Heeseung. The voice fits.

“Y/N.”

It isn’t a question. Your name sounds different in the open air of the apartment. Deeper. Warmer. More tangible. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out steady, which surprises you.

He pushes off the island and walks toward you. The other three follow slower, not crowding but not retreating either. You become aware of everything at once. The quiet click of your suitcase wheels settling. The way your fingers tighten around the strap of your duffel. The faint sheen of sweat along their collarbones.

They must’ve been moving furniture. Or maybe they just wanted an excuse to be shirtless when you arrived. The thought hits you uninvited. And then,  you realize you’re staring, too. One of them, broader shoulders, dark hair falling into his eyes, lets out a low whistle.

“Not mid,” he mutters.

The guy beside him elbows his ribs. A cocky grin already spreading over his lips nonetheless before he disrupts it by caging his lower lip between his teeth. “Shut up.” Heat crawls up your neck.

Heeseung stops about three feet in front of you. Close enough that you can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. Close enough to smell something clean and subtle, soap, maybe, or skin warmed by movement. He tilts his head slightly.

“You’re on time.”

“I said I would be.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. Behind him, one of the others steps forward and grabs your suitcase handle before you can protest. “We’ll take that.”

It’s said casually, but there’s something about the way he says we again that makes your stomach dip. The fourth one finally speaks. “You bring everything?”

“Just enough to survive a week,” you reply.

He laughs. “Smart.” They move around you with unsettling ease. Not touching you. Not yet. But close enough that the air shifts when they pass. You step fully into the apartment as your suitcase is rolled toward the hallway. The door shuts behind you with a quiet click that feels louder than it should. You turn slowly, taking in the space.

The kitchen is massive, marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, open shelving that somehow looks organized despite the presence of four men. There are plants near the windows. A guitar propped casually against the wall.

This isn’t a mess. It isn’t chaotic. It’s lived-in. Comfortable. Dangerously comfortable. “Room’s down the hall,” Heeseung says. “Last one on the right.”

You nod, but you don’t move yet. Because they’re still looking at you. Not in a way that feels crude. But undeniably… interested. Assessing. One of them, taller than the rest, sharper features, leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. His eyes crinkle,  “So,” he says slowly. “You cool living with guys?” The question isn’t innocent. You lift your chin slightly.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

His gaze flickers, approval, maybe. The broad-shouldered one smirks.

“You get easily offended?”

“No.”

“You snore?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Got a boyfriend?”

The question lands differently. You glance at Heeseung. He hasn’t spoken. He’s watching you. Waiting. You meet his eyes and answer evenly, “No.”

The silence that follows is subtle, but it shifts something. Like a door quietly unlocking. Heeseung gestures down the hall. “Come see your room.”

You follow. The hallway is lined with closed doors. Music grows fainter as you move away from the main space. Your suitcase wheels roll softly against polished concrete. He opens the last door and steps aside to let you in first. The room is bigger than you expected.

Large window. Soft gray walls. A queen-sized bed frame already assembled. A desk near the corner. Closet doors sliding open to reveal empty hangers. It doesn’t feel like someone just left it. It feels like it was waiting.

You step inside. He follows. The others hover at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame like they’re watching a show. “Well?” one of them asks. You set your duffel down on the bed.

“It’s… really nice.” Heeseung walks to the window and pulls the curtain slightly, letting more light in.

“Told you. No bullshit.” He turns to face you fully. There’s something different now that you’re in a smaller space. More contained. More charged. You can feel the other three just outside the room. Listening. You cross your arms loosely.

“What’s the actual catch?”

One of the guys snorts from the hallway. Heeseung’s lips twitch. “No catch.”

“Four guys, one girl, cheap rent, no second viewings. There’s always a catch.”

He steps closer. Not enough to trap you. Just enough to make you aware of proximity. “We don’t like flakes,” he says quietly. “We don’t like drama. We don’t like people who pretend they’re chill and then aren’t.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then you won’t last.”

The words aren’t cruel. They’re factual. You swallow. “Is that a threat?”

His gaze drops briefly to your mouth. Then back up. “It’s information.”

The other three laugh softly behind him. “You scared?” someone calls.

You step closer instead of back. “No.” And that’s the truth. You’re not scared. You’re wired. There’s a difference. He studies you for a long second. Then nods once.

“Good.” He steps back, creating space again. “You can move in tonight if you want.” Your heartbeat stutters.

“That was the deal.” One of them pushes off the doorframe. “Guess we’ve got a new roommate.” The broad-shouldered one grins. “Welcome to the madhouse.”

They disperse slightly after that. Not fully. But enough to let you breathe. You kneel on the bed to unzip your duffel, aware of eyes tracking the movement. A shirt comes out. Toiletry bag. A pair of heels you probably won’t need but packed anyway.

From the hallway, a voice says quietly, “She’s staying.”

“Obviously,” another replies.

You pretend not to hear. But your skin hums. Because beneath the jokes. Beneath the cocky questions. There’s something else. A tension that hasn’t snapped yet. An understanding that this isn’t just about splitting rent. You don’t know the rules. You don’t know the lines. But you feel them. Drawn. Invisible. Waiting. You stand and smooth your hands down your sides.

“I’ll bring the rest tomorrow.” Heeseung leans against the wall now, arms crossed. “Take your time.”

Your gaze locks again. The eye contact lingers too long to be accidental. Too steady to be polite. It’s not crude. It’s not rushed. It’s slow. Deliberate. Like he’s memorizing you.

And maybe, you’re memorizing him, too.

Friday night settles in outside the window, the sky deepening from gold to blue. You came here for cheap rent. For square footage. For practical reasons. But as the music in the living room turns louder and someone calls your name like you’ve always belonged here, you realize something quietly, dangerously simple. This wasn’t just a listing.

It was an invitation. And you accepted it. The kitchen island becomes your first battlefield.

Someone, Jay, you learn later, has already spread out a chaotic spread of takeout: greasy fried chicken in red-and-white buckets, japchae tangled in sesame oil, bulging containers of tteokbokki still steaming, a few lonely mandu that look like they've been fought over. Plastic forks and chopsticks clatter. No plates. No pretense of civility.

You slide onto one of the high stools, thighs sticking slightly to the leather from the heat still clinging to your skin after the move. Your thin white tank clings in all the wrong-right places, damp from nerves and the apartment's lazy, cold thermostat. No bra underneath because you'd changed into "comfy" clothes after unpacking the bare minimum. Big mistake.

Or the best one you've made all week. They circle like sharks who've already scented blood. Heeseung claims the stool right beside you without asking. His bare knee knocks yours under the island the second you settle. He doesn't move it. Neither do you. Jay drops onto the one across from you, broad shoulders taking up too much real estate. He leans forward on his elbows, forearms corded, watching you like you're the next thing on the menu.

Jake sprawls next to him, legs spread wide under the counter, one foot hooking casually around your ankle like it's always belonged there. He grins, pretty, boyish, filthy.

Sunghoon perches at the end like a king on his throne, long legs stretched out, one hand already tearing into a chicken wing. He licks sauce off his thumb slowly, eyes never leaving the front of your tank.

"Alright," Heeseung says, voice low and amused as he pops open a beer and slides one toward you without asking if you drink. "Introductions, since you're staying."

He drags a knuckle down your bare arm, slow, deliberate, like he's testing how soft you are. Goosebumps erupt instantly. "I'm Heeseung." His fingers linger at your wrist, thumb pressing your pulse point. "You already knew that." You nod, throat dry. Take a sip of the beer. It's cold. Sharp. Does nothing to cool the heat pooling between your legs.

Jay jerks his chin up. "Park Jongseong. Jay." He reaches across the island, grabs a piece of tteokbokki with his fingers, holds it out to you. "Open." You hesitate half a second. He raises one brow. "Don't make me feed you like a baby, sweetheart."

Your lips part. He pushes the sticky rice cake inside, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he pulls back. Sauce smears. He doesn't wipe it off. Just watches it glisten there.

"Jake Sim," the one with the foot around your ankle says. He leans in, elbow on the counter, chin in hand. His gaze drops blatantly to your chest. Your nipples have pebbled hard against the thin cotton, traitorous little peaks begging for attention. He bites his lip, lets out a soft, appreciative hum. "Fuck, you're not wearing a bra. Bold move, roomie."

Heat floods your face. Also lower. Sunghoon doesn't bother with words at first. He just stares, cold, assessing, predatory. Then he speaks, voice velvet and mean.

"Park Sunghoon." He drags a fry through sauce, offers it to you the same way Jay did. When you lean forward to take it, he pulls it back at the last second, makes you chase. You feel ridiculous. Wet. "Good girl." The praise lands like a slap. Your thighs clench.

Heeseung chuckles low beside you. His hand finds your knee under the island, big, warm, possessive. Slides up your inner thigh slow enough that you could stop him. You don't. His fingers stop just shy of where your shorts end, thumb stroking the crease where thigh meets hip. Back and forth. Lazy. Teasing the edge of your underwear.

"So," Jay says around a mouthful of chicken, eyes locked on the outline of your nipples like they're speaking to him personally. "What's your deal, Y/N? You always this easy to read?"

Jake snorts. Leans closer. "Bet she's already soaked just from us looking."

"Shut up," you mutter, but it comes out breathy. Weak.

Heeseung's thumb presses harder. "She is," he says quietly, like it's a fact he's confirming for the group. His other hand reaches up, casual, like he's reaching for more food, and brushes the side of your breast through the tank. The pad of his thumb grazes your nipple. Circles once. 

You gasp. Small. Involuntary. Sunghoon smirks. "Told you. Instant slut for attention." Jay exchanges a look with Jake, dirty, conspiratorial. They both laugh under their breath.

"Pass her the spicy one," Jake says. "See if she cries."

Heeseung finally pulls his hand from between your legs, only to slide it around your waist instead. Tugs you closer until your side is flush against his bare chest. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. "Eat," he murmurs against your ear. Breath hot. "You're gonna need the energy."

You pick up a piece of chicken with shaking fingers. They watch every bite like it's porn. Sunghoon leans forward. "Question." You meet his eyes. Dark. Unblinking.

"You gonna pretend you're not dripping for us all night, or can we skip the bullshit and get to the part where you spread on the counter?"

Your chopsticks freeze halfway to your mouth. Jake groans softly. "Hyung—"

"What?" Sunghoon shrugs. "We're all thinking it. She's sitting here with her tits out, clit probably throbbing, acting like she didn't come here to get fucked stupid by four guys who don't even know her last name."

Heeseung's hand slides higher again, this time under your tank. Palm flat against your bare stomach. Fingers splay wide. Claiming territory. Jay licks sauce off his lips. Slow. "Rent-free, remember? That pussy's been ours since you texted back."

Jake's foot slides higher up your calf. "Bet she clenches just hearing that." You do. They know. Heeseung's thumb finds your nipple again, pinches lightly through the fabric. Rolls it.

"Finish eating," he says, voice deceptively gentle. "Then we're gonna show you how we collect rent around here."

The words are disgusting. The way your body responds is worse. You swallow hard. Sauce still sticky on your lip. They wait. Patient. Filthy. Certain. Because they already know, you're not leaving this island until every inch of you is marked.

And the food? It's barely started getting cold. The takeout disappears faster than it should, mostly because your mouth is never empty for long.

Jay keeps tearing off pieces of chicken, dipping them in sauce, holding them to your lips like it's his personal mission to keep you full. His fingers linger every time, brushing your tongue, smearing gloss and grease across your chin until you're sticky and flushed. "Good girl," he murmurs once, low enough that only you hear it, but loud enough that the others smirk.

Heeseung never stops touching. His hand starts at your knee again, then climbs, slow, shameless, until it's high on your inner thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles over the damp cotton of your shorts. When you shift, trying to close your legs, he just spreads them wider with his knee. Casual. Like adjusting furniture. His other hand stays under your tank, palm flat against your stomach, fingers occasionally drifting up to pluck at your nipples like he's testing how hard they can get before you whimper.

They do get hard. Painfully so. The thin fabric does nothing to hide it.

Sunghoon leans back, legs spread, one hand lazily palming himself through his sweats while he watches. "Bet she's clenching every time Jay feeds her," he says, voice dripping. "Like a little hungry bird. Open wide, princess, here comes the next load."

Jake laughs, soft and filthy, leaning so close his breath fans your ear. "You're so fucking cute when you're pretending not to like it, baby. Look at you, your body is begging, thighs shaking. You gonna come just from us looking at you like the slut you are?" He drags his tongue along the shell of your ear. "Say 'please' and maybe we'll let you grind on the stool till you soak it."

You don't say please.

You just swallow another bite Jay pushes past your lips, choke a little when Heeseung's fingers slip under the leg of your shorts and graze the edge of your folds, wet, swollen, traitorous. They all hear the tiny, broken sound you make.

Sunghoon groans. "Fuck. That's the sound I wanna hear when she's choking on my dick later."

Dinner ends like that, messy, humiliating, electric.

When the last container is shoved aside, you mumble something about needing to unpack. Your voice is wrecked. Legs unsteady as you slide off the stool.

Heeseung's hand finally leaves your body, but not before he gives your ass a firm, possessive squeeze. "Go on, sweetheart. Get settled."

Their laughter follows you down the hallway, low, overlapping, knowing. "She's dripping down her thighs, I can smell it from here."

"Bet she locks the door and fingers herself thinking about us."

"Door stays unlocked from now on. House rule."

You shut yourself in the bedroom anyway. Heart hammering. Cheeks burning. Cunt throbbing so hard it hurts. You tell yourself you're just going to unpack. You don't.

The apartment feels smaller now, the air thicker, like the walls themselves are breathing. You’re still sprawled on the edge of the mattress, knees wide, thin cotton shorts shoved down just far enough that the waistband bites into the tops of your thighs. Your tank top has ridden up under your breasts, nipples stiff and visible through the damp fabric. Two fingers are buried inside you, knuckle-deep, curling, pumping, while your thumb mashes frantic, messy circles over your swollen clit. Every stroke pulls a slick, obscene sound from between your legs. You can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.

The apartment is quiet for maybe ten minutes. Then you hear it. From the living room, muffled at first, then unmistakable. Low grunts. Wet, rhythmic sounds. Skin on skin. "New roommate's pussy looked so fucking tight," Jake's voice, breathy. "Bet she'd cry if I went in raw."

Jay, rougher: "I'd make her ride me reverse so I could watch that ass bounce while Heeseung fucks her throat."

Sunghoon, colder, meaner: "I'm breaking that little cunt open first. Gonna make her squirt all over the couch before the night's over."

Heeseung's voice cuts through, low, controlled, dangerous. "We're breaking her in slow. Let her think she has control for a day or two. Then we take turns stretching her till she forgets her own name."

More groans. Faster strokes. Someone swears. Someone moans your name, your actual fucking name, like it's already theirs. Your cunt clenches hard around your fingers at the memory. A fresh gush of wetness coats your palm. You’re dripping onto the sheet now, dark spot spreading beneath your ass. You try to muffle the next whimper by biting the inside of your cheek, but it still leaks out, high and broken.

You come hard. Silent at first, then a choked whimper slips out when your fingers push inside, chasing the aftershocks. Your thighs shake. The bed creaks. The apartment has been dead silent for thirty seconds.

Then, floorboards creak. Not fast. Not rushed. Slow. Measured. One deliberate step after another. Your heart slams against your ribs so violently you’re sure they can hear it through the thin walls. You freeze, fingers still stuffed inside you, walls fluttering helplessly around them. You don’t dare pull them out. Don’t dare move. Every nerve feels peeled open, raw, screaming.

The footsteps stop right outside your door. You hold your breath. The knob turns. No knock. No warning. The door swings inward on silent hinges. Heeseung fills the frame.

No shirt. Sweatpants slung obscenely low, the thick ridge of his cock still half-hard and outlined against the gray cotton like it’s trying to tear through. A faint sheen of sweat glistens along his collarbones, down the cut of his abs. His hair is wrecked, fingers-raked, damp at the temples. His eyes are black, pupils blown, and the corner of his mouth curls in something that isn’t quite a smile. It’s possession wearing amusement like a mask.

He doesn’t step inside. Not yet. He just leans one bare shoulder against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed, and lets his gaze drag over you, slow, deliberate, filthy. From the way your thighs tremble, to the hand still buried in your shorts, to the wet spot darkening the sheet, to your bitten-raw lip and glassy eyes.

“Caught you,” he murmurs. Voice so low it vibrates in your chest. Your fingers twitch involuntarily inside yourself. A tiny, helpless pump. You can’t help it. His voice alone is enough to make your cunt spasm. He notices. Of course he notices. His head tilts. “You didn’t even lock the door, baby.”

The endearment lands like a slap and a caress at once. Your mouth opens, maybe to deny, maybe to beg, maybe just to breathe, but nothing comes out except a shaky exhale.

He takes one step forward. The floor creaks under his weight. Another step. Your pulse is in your throat, your clit, your fingertips. You’re so wet it’s obscene, every tiny shift of your hips makes a slick sound you’re sure he can hear.

He stops at the foot of the bed. Close enough that you can smell him, clean sweat, faint cologne, the dark musk of arousal still clinging to his skin from whatever they were doing out there.

“Look at you,” he says softly. Almost tender. “Legs spread like you were waiting for an audience. Fingers stuffed in that greedy little hole while you listened to us talk about ruining you.” His eyes flick to where your hand disappears into your shorts. “Did you come thinking about Sunghoon splitting you open? Or Jay making you bounce on his cock while I fucked your throat raw?”

You make a sound, half sob, half moan. Your hips jerk up without permission, chasing your own fingers. Heeseung’s gaze darkens. “Don’t stop.”

Your breath hitches. “Keep fucking yourself,” he orders, voice dropping into something darker, quieter, more dangerous. “Let me watch how desperate you got listening to us plan all the ways we’re gonna break you.”

Your fingers move before your brain catches up, slow at first, then faster, wetter, louder. The heel of your palm grinds against your clit with every thrust. Your other hand claws at the sheet. Your thighs shake so hard the bed frame rattles. Heeseung doesn’t touch you. He just watches.

Eyes heavy-lidded. Breathing slow and controlled while yours comes in ragged little pants. The outline of his cock has thickened again, straining harder against the sweats. A dark spot blooms at the tip. "You were moaning our names," he says, tilting his head. "Heard you clear as day."

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. He walks closer. Stops at the edge of the bed. Looks down at you, spread, flushed, fingers still glistening.

"First rule of the house," he says, voice velvet and final. He reaches down, grips your chin, tilts your face up so you have to meet his eyes. "If we hear you moaning our names, if you touch that pretty pussy thinking about us, you don't get to come alone anymore."

His thumb drags across your bottom lip, collecting the spit and gloss there. "You finish with one of us inside you. Or on you. Or watching. Your choice."

He leans in until his mouth is a breath from yours. "But tonight?" He smirks, slow, filthy, victorious. "Tonight you go to sleep wet and aching. No more touching. That's rule two."

He straightens. Steps back. "Get some rest, sweetheart."

He turns for the door. Pauses. Looks over his shoulder. "And tomorrow?" His smile is all teeth. "Rent's due."

The door clicks shut behind him. You lie back on the bed, heart slamming, thighs slick, body screaming. You don't touch yourself again. Not because you don't want to. But because you know, he's right outside. And they're all waiting for the next time you break.

Your gasp rips through the dim bedroom like a blade, but it’s not fear that claws up your throat, it’s the raw, electric shock of Jake’s iron grip clamping around your upper arm, yanking you upright so violently the mattress squeaks in protest. Your eyes fly open to the sight of his wicked grin, teeth flashing white in the pale morning light filtering through half-drawn blinds. The sheets are torn away in one savage sweep, cool air slamming against your overheated skin like a slap. Your thin tank top is already bunched uselessly under your tits, the fabric twisted tight around your ribs, while your tiny sleep shorts have ridden so high they barely cover the swell of your ass cheeks, the crotch seam digging intently into your folds.

“Morning, roomie,” Jake purrs, voice dripping with mock sweetness and pure venom. He drags you out of bed like a ragdoll, your bare feet scrambling for purchase on the icy concrete floor, toes curling against the chill. His free hand instantly mauls your left tit, thick fingers sinking deep into the soft, heavy flesh, squeezing so hard your nipple hardens between his knuckles like a ripe berry. His thumb flicks it once, twice, three times, fast and brutal, like he’s punishing a disobedient little button. Pain blooms hot and sharp, shooting straight to your clit, and you hiss through clenched teeth, back arching involuntarily, pushing your chest further into his greedy palm.

He laughs, low, filthy, delighted, and crashes his mouth against your cheek in a wet, sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. The flat of his tongue drags slow and deliberate across your flushed skin, leaving a thick trail of spit that cools instantly. He pulls back with a loud smack, lips shiny, eyes glittering with mischief.

“Breakfast’s waiting, princess. And you’re the main fucking course.”

He hauls you down the hallway, your legs stumbling, tits bouncing freely under the ruined tank, shorts still tangled around one thigh. The living room hits you like a fever dream: thick with the scent of fresh-brewed coffee, printer ink, and the unmistakable musk of four horny men who’ve already been stroking themselves thinking about this exact moment. Jay’s lounging like a king on the massive sectional sofa, legs spread wide in nothing but gray sweats that do nothing to hide the monstrous bulge tenting the fabric, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, the other lazily palming his cock through the material. He doesn’t even stand. Just crooks two fingers at you, slow and commanding, a lazy smirk playing on his full lips.

Jake shoves you forward hard. You stumble straight into Jay’s waiting hands, rough, calloused palms gripping your hips like vices, and he yanks you down onto his lap in one fluid, possessive motion. Your bare ass cheeks land flush against the scorching heat of his massive morning wood, the thick ridge of it nestling perfectly between your cheeks through the thin sweats. He groans deep in his chest and rocks up once, grinding his fat cock against you so you feel every throbbing inch, every vein, the blunt head nudging right against your folds like a promise.

“Sit pretty for me, slut,” Jay growls hot against the shell of your ear, breath smelling like mint and sin. One thick arm snakes around your waist, locking you down like a seatbelt made of steel. His other hand shoves up under your tank top, claiming your right tit fully, squeezing, kneading, rolling the nipple between rough fingers until it’s swollen and aching. You squirm helplessly, already leaking slick down your thighs, but he just chuckles darkly and pinches harder. “That’s it. Feel how hard you make me first thing in the goddamn morning?”

Heeseung leans against the kitchen island like a statue carved from ice and hunger, arms crossed over his broad chest, black tank stretched tight across his muscles, sweatpants slung low enough to show the deep V of his hips. His dark eyes drink you in with that calm, terrifying amusement, lips curled in the barest smirk. Sunghoon’s perched on the arm of the couch like a predator in repose, long legs dangling, one hand already shoved inside his boxers, slowly fisting his long, pretty cock, tip flushed angry red, leaking precum in shiny beads that he smears down the shaft with lazy twists.

A single crisp sheet of paper is taped to the stainless-steel fridge, bold black Arial bullet points screaming authority.

Roommate Rules.

Jake claps once, sharp and theatrical, the sound cracking through the room like a whip. “New roommate orientation, baby! Time to learn the house rules. Stand up, oh wait.” He grins viciously as Jay’s arm tightens, keeping you impaled on his lap, grinding slow circles so the ridge of his cock drags deliciously against your dripping cunt. “Never mind. Stay right there.”

Jay doesn’t let you move an inch. Jake rips the paper free and slaps it into your trembling hands. “Read it. Out. Loud. Every word.”

Heeseung’s voice cuts through like velvet over steel. “And don’t you dare stop.”

Your fingers shake so badly the paper rattles. Jay’s free hand dives straight down, past the waistband of your shorts, two thick fingers spearing into your soaked cunt without mercy, no teasing, no warmup. They curl viciously against your G-spot instantly, pumping in and out with wet, filthy squelching sounds that echo obscenely. Your walls clamp down greedily, sucking him deeper, and you choke on the first syllable.

“R-Rule… one…” Your voice cracks into a broken moan as Jay adds a third finger on the next thrust, stretching you wide, scissoring brutally. “N-No panties… in the apartment… after 8 p.m. Fuck—ahh!”

Sunghoon hums low, shoving his boxers down to his thighs, his long cock springing free, veiny, curved slightly, glistening as he strokes faster, thumb swiping over the leaking slit. “Louder, whore. Let us hear how wet that rule makes you.”

Jake drops to his knees between your spread thighs like he’s worshipping at an altar. He rips your shorts down your legs in one violent yank, tossing them across the room, leaving you completely bare from the waist down on Jay’s lap, pussy lips puffy and shining, clit throbbing visibly. He spreads your thighs wider with both hands, thumbs digging into soft flesh, and leans in. His tongue, hot, flat, and obscene, drags from your dripping hole all the way up to your swollen clit in one long, sloppy stripe. He sucks your clit into his mouth like it’s candy, tongue flicking rapid-fire while Jay’s fingers keep moving.

“Rule two,” you sob, hips jerking wildly, trying to ride both sensations at once. “You… sit on someone’s lap… during movie nights, oh god, Jake, please—ahh!”

Jake pulls back just enough to spit a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit, watching it drip down to mix with your juices coating Jay’s knuckles. “Good fucking girl. Keep reading while I eat this sloppy cunt like breakfast.”

Your voice is pure wreckage now, high, breathy, broken. “Rule three… Whoever cooks… the others get to fuck you… on the counter… while dinner’s in the oven, fuck, I’m gonna—”

Jay slams his fingers deeper, adding a fourth, stretching you to the burning limit. Your pussy gushes around him, slick squirting out in messy pulses that soak his sweats and the couch beneath you. The wet sounds are pornographic, schlick-schlick-schlick, loud enough to drown out your whimpers.

Heeseung is stroking himself now, thick, heavy, perfectly shaped, veins pulsing as he strokes slow and controlled, eyes locked on your face like he’s memorizing every twitch of humiliation and pleasure. “Almost there, sweetheart. Finish it. Then we give you the welcome gift you’ve been dripping for since you moved in.”

Jake stands, shoving his shorts down. His cock slaps heavy against his abs, thick, girthy, the head red and angry, already drooling precum in long strings. He strokes himself right in front of your face, the wet sound of his fist mixing with Jay’s fingers destroying your cunt. The tip keeps brushing your cheek, smearing precum across your skin like war paint.

You force the last words out between guttural moans, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaking your face. “First… official use… read the rules out loud… while being used—nnngh! And… and it ends with all four… cumming on your face… and tits… as welcome gift, please, I can’t—!”

Silence crashes down for half a second, only the obscene sounds of fingers plunging into soaked pussy and four men stroking their cocks. Then Jay rips his fingers out with a wet pop. You whine pathetically at the sudden emptiness, pussy clenching around nothing, a gush of your own slick dripping down your thighs onto the carpet.

Heeseung steps forward first, voice calm as death. “On your knees, cumdump.” Jay lifts you like you weigh nothing, strong arms tossing you onto the floor between them. The rough carpet bites into your knees as you kneel, back straight, tits heaving, cunt visibly throbbing and empty. They circle you like wolves, four towering, muscular bodies, cocks hard and leaking, surrounding you in a filthy halo of dominance.

Heeseung speaks, low and final. “Welcome to the house, sweetheart. Open that pretty mouth and take what you earned.” They don’t ask permission. They just ruin you.

Jake goes first, groaning loud and theatrical, fist flying as thick, ropey jets of cum erupt across your face. One stripe lands right across your open mouth, coating your tongue in salty heat. Another paints your left cheek, dripping down to your jaw. A third splatters across your forehead, sliding into your hair. He milks every drop, slapping his spent cock against your lips. “Swallow what you can, baby. The rest stays.”

Sunghoon’s next, quiet, intense, eyes dark as midnight. He aims low, long powerful spurts painting your tits in pearly white. Thick globs land on your left nipple, sliding down the curve of your breast like icing. Another heavy rope coats the valley between them, dripping down your stomach. He keeps stroking through it, smearing the head of his cock through the mess on your skin, marking you deeper.

Jay growls your name like a curse, “Fuck, look at you”—and unloads across the right side of your face. Hot cum hits your cheekbone, your eyelid, your lips, mixing with Jake’s in sticky rivers that drip off your chin onto your cum-glazed tits. One stray shot lands directly on your tongue and you moan, swallowing reflexively.

Heeseung saves the best for last. He steps closest, tipping your chin up with two fingers so your teary eyes lock onto his. “Eyes on me while I paint my new toy.” His strokes stay slow, deliberate, until the first powerful pulse shoots straight across your lips, forcing you to taste him, thick, bitter-sweet, coating your tongue. The next stripes your chest, adding fresh layers over Sunghoon’s mess, dripping off your nipples in heavy rivulets. He keeps coming, pulse after pulse, until your entire face and tits are a glistening, ruined masterpiece of four loads, cum sliding down your body in obscene trails, pooling in the hollow of your throat and between your thighs.

When they finally step back, you’re a trembling, kneeling wreck, face and chest absolutely drenched, lips parted, tongue still out like a good little cumslut, thighs shaking, pussy clenching and dripping onto the carpet in desperate need.

Heeseung crouches, thumb scooping a thick glob of mixed cum from your bottom lip. He pushes it deep into your mouth. “Suck. Clean every drop like the rules say.” You do, hollowing your cheeks, sucking his thumb clean with a wet pop, eyes fluttering as the salty, musky taste of all four of them floods your senses. He smiles, slow, dark, satisfied. “Rules are rules, baby.”

Jake laughs, tucking his cock away with a satisfied sigh. “Shower’s down the hall, princess. But we won’t mind if you don’t shower today. Or ever again.”

Jay leans down, pressing an almost tender kiss to the top of your cum-matted hair. “Welcome home, roomie.”

Sunghoon just stares, licking his lips as you instinctively drag your tongue across them, chasing every stray drop. “Rent’s cheap as fuck now, huh? But you are gonna pay every single day.”

You can’t speak, voice wrecked, body owned. But your cunt is already fluttering, aching, dripping for the next rule they’ll break you with. And they know it. They always will.

The rest of the day unravels like a slow, deliberate fever dream, every ordinary second laced with the kind of casual, relentless violation that makes your pulse thunder and your cunt throb like a second heartbeat. You try so fucking hard to pretend it’s just another lazy Saturday. That the thick, salty ghosts of their cum aren’t still drying in flaky trails across your tits and cheeks no matter how hard you scrubbed in the shower. That the taste of all four of them, bitter, musky, addictively filthy, doesn’t coat the back of your throat every single time you swallow.  

The shower is a war zone. Scalding water pounds against skin still blooming with faint red handprints and fingertip bruises, steam thick enough to choke on. You soap yourself raw, trying to erase the evidence, but every glide of your own hands over your sore nipples, your swollen clit, your tender skin just reminds you how easily they marked you. When you finally step out, the oversized black tee you pull on clings to your still-damp skin like a surrender flag, hem barely skimming the bottom curve of your ass, nipples already stiff and obvious against the thin cotton, pussy lips puffy and exposed every time you move. No bra. No panties. It’s not even close to 8 p.m., but the rule is already branded into your brain like a collar. You tell yourself it’s just comfort. Practicality. Not the first step in learning to live with your holes on permanent display.

They let you cling to that lie for exactly twenty-three minutes.

You’re in the kitchen, stretching up on tiptoes to grab a glass from the top shelf, the tee riding all the way up to expose the full, bare globes of your ass and the slick shine already coating your inner thighs, when the first crack lands.

Jake’s palm connects with your right cheek like a gunshot, sharp, loud, viciously playful. The sound ricochets off the marble counters. Your whole body jolts forward, glass clattering against the shelf, and a hot bloom of pain explodes across your skin. Before you can even gasp, he’s right there, chest pressed to your back, hips grinding his half-hard cock against the cleft of your ass through his sweats.

“Careful, princess,” he drawls, voice syrupy and mean. Both hands shove up under the tee from behind, claiming your tits like they were built for his palms, squeezing the soft, heavy flesh until it bulges between his fingers, thumbs and forefingers rolling your nipples in tight, cruel pinches that send lightning straight to your clit. “Wouldn’t want you breaking shit on your first full day. Or maybe we should make you clean it up on your knees.”

You white-knuckle the counter, breath sawing out of you, thighs pressing together uselessly as fresh slick drips down your legs.

Heeseung strolls past like he’s fetching orange juice, not even sparing you a glance, until his arm snaps out mid-stride and his open palm cracks across your left cheek so hard the sting blooms white-hot and immediate. Your knees buckle. He keeps walking, cool as ever, but you catch the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jay’s waiting when you bend over to grab a yogurt from the bottom drawer of the fridge. The oversized tee flips up completely, baring your dripping cunt and the pink handprints already decorating your ass. His bare foot hooks your ankle, yanking your legs apart with zero warning. Then his hand comes down, once, twice, three brutal, stinging slaps in rapid succession, each one harder than the last, the wet smack of skin on wet skin echoing obscenely. Your pussy clenches visibly with every impact, a humiliating string of slick stretching from your hole to the floor.

“Good reach, roomie,” he mutters, already back to scrolling his phone like he didn’t just turn your ass into a throbbing, cherry-red masterpiece. “Keep bending over like that and I might have to test how deep that pretty throat is before dinner.”

Sunghoon doesn’t bother with words. He simply appears behind you while you’re loading the dishwasher, hips slamming forward to pin you bent over the open rack, his massive erection grinding slow and filthy between your spread cheeks. One arm bands around your waist, the other shoves under the tee to grope your tits with lazy, proprietary thoroughness, palms rolling the soft mounds like ripe fruit, fingers tugging and twisting your nipples until they’re swollen, aching peaks. He pinches so hard you cry out, then releases you with a low whistle, walking away like he just checked the mail.

It never stops.

Every single movement is an invitation they cash immediately. Reaching for the remote? Jake’s fingers plunge between your thighs from behind, two thick digits sliding through your soaked folds just long enough to coat themselves before he pulls away, sucking them clean with a wink. Bending to pick up a dropped spoon? Jay’s palm cracks down again, then stays, middle finger dipping into your cunt, pumping once, twice, curling against your G-spot until your knees shake, then withdrawing with a wet pop and a casual “oops.” Stretching up to dust the top shelf? Heeseung’s mouth finds the back of your neck, teeth grazing, one hand sliding between your legs to flick your clit in rapid, teasing circles until you’re whimpering, then he’s gone, leaving you edged and gasping.

By late afternoon you’re a walking wreck, skin flushed scarlet, ass a lattice of overlapping handprints burning with every step, nipples raw and hypersensitive against the cotton, cunt so swollen and empty it aches like a bruise. Your thighs are shiny with constant slick. Your brain is fogged with need. You’re trying, failing, to fold laundry on the living room couch when Jake decides he’s done playing.

He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t warn. He simply drops to his knees in front of you like a man starved for weeks, hooks your trembling legs over his broad shoulders, and buries his face in your dripping pussy with a guttural groan that vibrates straight through your clit.

No warmup. No mercy.

His tongue is everywhere at once, broad, flat, filthy laps from your clenching hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, then sucking the swollen bud between his lips like he’s trying to pull your soul out through it. He alternates, hard, punishing suction that makes your back bow off the cushions, then soft, fluttering licks that leave you sobbing. Two thick fingers spear into you without resistance, curling viciously against that spongy spot inside while his tongue flicks your clit in rapid, relentless strokes. The wet sounds are deafening, your slick gushing around his knuckles, dripping down his chin, soaking the couch beneath you.

You grab fistfuls of his hair, half trying to rip him off, half grinding your cunt against his face desperate for release. “J-Jake, fuck—too much—ahh!”

He growls into your pussy, the vibration making your vision spark white. Three fingers now, stretching you wide, pumping brutally, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit while his tongue spears inside you, fucking you in shallow, messy thrusts. Your thighs clamp around his head like a vice. Your back arches so hard you nearly levitate. The orgasm rips through you like lightning, violent, shattering, squirting messily all over his face as you scream, walls convulsing, vision whiting out completely.

He doesn’t stop. He rides you through it, through the aftershocks, through the oversensitive whimpers and the frantic pushing at his head, tongue and fingers relentless until you’re a sobbing, twitching wreck, another smaller orgasm crashing over you before the first even fades.

Only then does he pull back, face glistening, lips swollen, chin dripping with your cum like he just won a war. He climbs up your body slow, caging you against the cushions with his powerful frame, cock heavy and leaking against your thigh through his sweats. Then he kisses you. Not the brutal, claiming way you expect after he just devoured your cunt like a starving animal.

Sweet. Devastatingly soft. His mouth moves against yours like a promise, gentle, coaxing, tongue sliding in lazy, velvet strokes that taste like your own slick and his spit. One hand cups your cheek with shocking tenderness, thumb stroking your jawbone like you’re fragile, precious. The other rests low on your belly, warm, possessive, fingers splayed like he’s claiming the space where his cock will eventually live.

It breaks something in you. Filthy-sweet. Disorienting. Dangerous. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, breath mingling, eyes half-lidded and shining. “Good girl,” he whispers, so soft it feels like a secret. “Tasted so fucking sweet. Could eat this pussy for every meal.”

Then he’s gone, standing, wiping his shiny face with the back of his hand, flashing that boyish, wicked grin like he didn’t just ruin you twice in five minutes. You lie there panting, legs still hooked open and shaking, lips tingling, cunt still fluttering and leaking onto the ruined couch. The others don’t even pretend to look away anymore.

Heeseung glances over from the armchair, dark eyes gleaming, one brow raised in quiet approval. Jay keeps scrolling, but his free hand is palming the massive bulge in his sweats. Sunghoon licks his lips slowly, deliberately, like he’s already tasting his turn. You yank the tee down over your trembling thighs with shaking hands, trying to catch your breath, trying to remember how to be a person.

The clock on the wall glows 7:42 p.m. Eighteen minutes until the first rule locks in for the night. And every single one of them is watching the seconds tick down with hungry, patient eyes.

The day was “normal.”

But normal in this house means your body is their favorite toy, teased, slapped, groped, eaten, and edged until you’re dripping and desperate. The night hasn’t even started.

The apartment is shrouded in that heavy, post-midnight hush, only the low, constant hum of the AC and the faint, faraway pulse of city traffic bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The clock on the wall glows 12:34 a.m. Your panties have been gone for hours, the rule now a permanent, throbbing law between your legs. Every step you take reminds you: bare, slick, exposed, owned.

You’re trying to ghost down the hallway like a shadow, bare feet silent on the cool hardwood, oversized tee clutched in one fist to keep the hem from riding up, when Heeseung materializes out of nowhere. His long fingers wrap around your wrist like a steel cuff, firm but not cruel, and he yanks you sideways without a single word. The door to his room swings open, swallows you both, and clicks shut with the finality of a prison gate. The lock engages with a soft, damning thunk.

The second the bolt slides home, the mask drops. Heeseung spins you around and slams you back against the door so hard the wood rattles in its frame. His mouth crashes into yours, teeth clashing, tongues battling, no sweetness, just raw, starving hunger. One big hand fists your hair, yanking your head back so he can devour your throat, sucking bruises into the skin while the other shoves up under your tee and finds your already dripping cunt.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he growls against your pulse point, two thick fingers spearing straight into you without warning. “Been walking around all night with this greedy little hole empty? Bad girl.”

You moan brokenly, hips jerking into his hand. He adds a third finger instantly, stretching you wide, scissoring brutally while his thumb grinds hard circles on your swollen clit. Your knees buckle; he doesn’t let you fall. Just pins you to the door with his body and finger-fucks you so viciously the sound echoes louder than your gasps.

He rips the tee over your head in one motion, leaving you completely naked. Then he’s spinning you again, bending you over the edge of his massive bed, face pressed into the black silk sheets that smell like him, dark, expensive, masculine. He kicks your legs wider, slaps your ass once, twice, hard enough to make the flesh jiggle and bloom pink.

“Look at this pretty cunt clenching for me,” he snarls, lining up the fat, leaking head of his cock and slamming in to the hilt in one brutal thrust. The stretch burns so good you scream into the mattress. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, just grips your hips hard enough to bruise and starts pounding.

Skin slaps skin like thunder. His heavy balls smack your clit with every savage thrust. The bed creaks violently under the assault. He fucks you like he’s trying to split you in half—deep, punishing strokes that drag against every sensitive ridge inside you, the thick head battering your cervix on every inward slam.

“Take it,” he grunts, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back, the other reaching around to slap your clit in time with his thrusts. “This is what you signed up for, roomie. This cunt belongs to the house now, belongs to me tonight.”

You’re sobbing, drooling onto the sheets, pussy gushing around his cock so loudly it’s embarrassing. He reaches down and spreads your ass cheeks wider, watching his thick shaft disappear into your stretched hole, the creamy ring of your arousal coating every inch.

“Fuck, look at that. Greedy little slut sucking me in.”

He pulls out suddenly, flips you onto your back, and hooks your legs over his shoulders. The new angle lets him drive even deeper. His hips snap forward like a machine, relentless, punishing, perfect. Your tits bounce wildly with every thrust. He leans down and sucks one swollen nipple into his mouth, biting hard enough to make you wail, then soothes it with his tongue before moving to the other.

You come first, hard, screaming, walls clamping down on him like a vice, squirting messily around his cock as your whole body seizes. He doesn’t slow. Just fucks you straight through it, growling praises and filth into your ear.

“That’s it, milk my cock, baby. Give me another. Come on this dick again like the house whore you are.”

You do, second orgasm ripping through you even harder, vision whiting out, nails raking bloody lines down his back. Heeseung follows with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and flooding you with thick, hot ropes of cum, pulse after pulse until it’s leaking out around his cock, dripping down your ass and soaking the sheets.

He stays buried inside you for a long moment, both of you heaving, sweat-slick bodies glued together. Then he pulls out slowly, watching with dark satisfaction as his cum pours from your ruined hole in a creamy waterfall.

But the brutality ends there.

Heeseung rolls off you with surprising grace, chest still rising and falling hard. He sits up, runs a hand through his wrecked hair, then stands, completely naked, still half-hard and shining with your combined mess. You lie there boneless, thighs trembling, cum leaking steadily onto the bed, mind completely blank.

He disappears into the attached bathroom. You hear the faucet run, the soft clink of glass. When he returns, he’s carrying a warm, damp cloth and a small bottle of something. You flinch when he kneels between your spread thighs again, instinct, not fear, but he just shushes you softly.

“Easy, baby.”

The cloth is blissfully warm. He starts at your inner thighs, wiping away the sticky trails of cum with slow, careful strokes. Then higher, between your folds, dabbing gently at your swollen, puffy entrance. You hiss when the fabric brushes your oversensitive clit; he pauses instantly, waiting until you relax before continuing. He cleans every inch of you with the patience of a man who’s done this before, thorough, reverent, almost worshipful. When he’s satisfied, he sets the cloth aside and pours a small amount of cool, soothing lotion onto his fingers, massaging it gently into the red handprints on your hips, your ass, the bite marks on your breasts.

You can only stare at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, heart hammering in a way that has nothing to do with the orgasms.

Heeseung meets your gaze, those dark eyes steady, unreadable for a heartbeat, then the corner of his mouth lifts in something softer than a smirk. “I may be an asshole, baby,” he says, voice low and gravel-rough from how loud he’d moaned your name, “but I know how to treat what’s mine right after I break it.”

He finishes with the lotion, then grabs a clean, fluffy towel from the dresser and drapes it gently over your hips like a blanket. Pulls the black silk sheet up to your waist, tucking it around you with careful hands. Finally, he leans down, brushes sweat-damp strands of hair off your forehead with his knuckles, light, almost sweet, and presses the softest kiss to your temple.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’re gonna need every ounce of strength for what the rest of them have planned tomorrow.”

He doesn’t stay. Just stands, flicks off the bedside lamp with a soft click, and pads out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough that a thin, golden line of hallway light spills across the floor like an invitation… or a warning.

You lie there in the dark, body aching in the most delicious, ruined way, pussy still fluttering with aftershocks, skin tingling from his gentle hands, mind spinning in dizzy circles.

Because he is an asshole. A cruel, rule-making, cum-painting, pussy-destroying asshole. But tonight, for the first time since you moved in, you’re terrifyingly certain that’s not all he is. And that single, dangerous crack in the armor?

It scares you more than every filthy rule they’ve written on that fridge. Because if Heeseung can fuck you like a toy and then care for you like something precious…

What the hell are the other three capable of? You get your answer somewhere around an hour after Heeseung leaves.

The apartment has gone quiet, city lights bleeding through the blinds in faint orange stripes, the distant hum of traffic like white noise. You’re half-asleep in your own bed again, body still humming from earlier, skin too sensitive, mind too full of everything that’s happened since you walked through the front door. The sheets feel cool against the faint bruises blooming on your hips.

You don’t hear the door open. Just feel the mattress dip behind you, slow, careful, like whoever it is doesn’t want to startle you awake. Then warmth. Jay’s chest presses to your back, not crowding, not possessive in the usual way. Just… there. Solid. His arm slides around your waist from behind, palm flattening low on your stomach. Fingers splay wide, covering as much skin as they can without gripping.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just breathes, slow, even, against the nape of your neck. His nose brushes the baby hairs there once, twice. Then his thumb starts moving.

Slow circles. Lazy, deliberate swirls over the soft skin just below your navel. The kind of touch that feels like he’s tracing something fragile. Like you’re made of blown glass, or spun sugar, or something that might crack if he presses too hard.

It’s nothing like the way they’ve touched you all day. No slaps. No gropes. No mocking whispers or filthy promises. Just this. Quiet. Steady. Almost reverent. You tense for half a second, waiting for the punchline, the shift into something meaner.

It doesn’t come. Instead, his lips find the curve where your shoulder meets your neck. Not a kiss. Just a resting place. Warm breath fanning over your skin in time with the slow rub of his thumb. “You okay?” he murmurs eventually. Voice low, rough from sleep and whatever else he’s been doing in the dark. Not demanding an answer. Just… checking.

You don’t know what to say. Your throat feels tight. You nod once, small, barely there. His hand keeps moving. Same rhythm. Same gentleness. Circles widening a little, then tightening again, like he’s memorizing the shape of you under his palm.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says against your skin. “Any of it. Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever.”

The words hang there, simple, quiet, sincere in a way that doesn’t match the asshole roommates who printed rules on the fridge and came on your face like it was a housewarming tradition. You swallow. “I’m… okay,” you whisper. It’s the truth, mostly. The rest is too tangled to name.

He hums once, soft, approving. His arm tightens just enough to pull you closer, back flush to his chest. No grind. No wandering hands. Just holding. The circles don’t stop. Slow. Soothing. Like he’s trying to rub the tension out of you molecule by molecule. You feel your breathing start to match his, deeper, slower. The ache between your legs dulls to a low throb instead of a sharp pulse. Your eyelids grow heavy again. Jay doesn’t move to leave.

Doesn’t push for more. Just stays. Palm warm on your waist. Thumb still drawing those endless, careful circles. Like you’re something worth being gentle with. Even here. Even now. You fall asleep to the rhythm of it, his heartbeat steady against your spine, his breath even against your neck, the soft scrape of calluses on your skin.

And for the first time since you moved in, the apartment doesn’t feel quite so dangerous.

Sunlight slices through the half-open blinds in thin, golden bars across your bare back. You wake slowly, first to the sensation of heat, then weight, then the unmistakable press of something thick and heavy sliding past your lips before your eyes are even open.

Heeseung. He’s already there, kneeling at the edge of the mattress, one hand braced on the headboard, the other cradling the back of your skull with surprising care. His cock is hard, morning wood, thick and flushed, veins prominent under the skin, and he’s feeding it to you slowly, not thrusting, just… settling. Like he’s been waiting for you to wake up around him.

Your lashes flutter. A soft, sleepy sound escapes your throat, half protest, half surrender, as your mouth stretches to accommodate him. He doesn’t push deeper than you can take. Just holds still once the head bumps the back of your tongue, letting you adjust.

“Shh,” he murmurs above you, thumb stroking the hinge of your jaw. “Morning, baby.”

His voice is gravel-rough from sleep, softer than it has any right to be. You blink up at him through damp lashes. He’s shirtless, hair a wreck, eyes dark but not cruel. There’s something almost apologetic in the way he looks down at you, like he knows exactly how many times he’s already used this mouth, this body, in the last forty-eight hours and still can’t stop.

You don’t pull away. Instead, you flatten your tongue along the underside, hollow your cheeks just enough to make him hiss quietly. His hips twitch once, small, involuntary, then still again.

“Good girl,” he breathes. Not mocking. Quiet. Almost reverent.

That’s when you feel the mattress dip on either side. Jake slides in behind you first, warm chest pressing to your back, knees nudging yours apart. His cock, already leaking, slides between your thighs, not inside yet, just rocking slow and lazy along your folds. He kisses the nape of your neck, open-mouthed and gentle, like he’s tasting sleep-warmed skin instead of claiming territory.

“Morning, princess,” he whispers against your ear. One hand slips under you, cupping your breast, not squeezing, just holding. Palm warm. Fingers splayed. Thumb brushing the nipple in slow, soothing circles.

Sunghoon appears on your other side, long limbs unfolding gracefully. He doesn’t speak at first. Just watches your face while Heeseung rocks shallowly into your mouth. Then he leans in, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. The gesture is so unexpectedly tender your breath hitches around Heeseung’s length.

Sunghoon’s hand finds your hip. Strokes down the curve of your waist, then back up. Like he’s memorizing every dip and swell. Like he’s sorry for every bruise he’s left there. Jay’s the last to join.

He’s fully dressed, gray sweats, black tee, hair still damp from a shower, sitting in the armchair across from the bed with a steaming mug of black coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. Vertical hold. Red recording dot blinking steadily.

He doesn’t say anything filthy. Doesn’t bark orders. Just watches. Sips. The corner of his mouth lifts when your eyes meet his over Heeseung’s shoulder. Not a smirk. Something quieter. Almost fond. “Pretty,” he mouths. No sound. Just the shape of the word.

Heeseung starts moving then, slow, shallow rolls of his hips. Never deep enough to choke you. Just enough to fill your mouth, to let you taste the salt and musk of him. Your hands come up instinctively, fingers curling around the base he can’t fit, stroking what your lips can’t reach.

Jake shifts behind you. Lines himself up. Presses in, slow. So slow. The stretch is lazy, unhurried, like he has all morning to sink into you. When he bottoms out, he stays there. Doesn’t thrust. Just grinds in tiny, rolling circles, letting you feel every inch pressed against that spot inside that makes your toes curl.

Sunghoon’s hand slides between you and the mattress. Finds your clit. Circles it with the same gentle pressure Jake’s using on your nipple. No frantic rubbing. No pinching. Just soft, steady friction that builds slow and syrupy.

You moan around Heeseung, muffled, needy. The vibration makes him groan low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “That’s it.”

They move like they’ve rehearsed it. Like they’ve agreed, silently, somewhere in the dark hours after Jay held you last night, that today they won’t break you. Not more than they already have.

Jake rocks into you in time with Heeseung’s shallow thrusts. Sunghoon’s fingers never falter, patient, coaxing. Your body starts to tremble, not from overstimulation, but from the slow, relentless climb they’re building together.

Jay’s phone stays steady. He tilts it slightly, capturing the way your back arches, the way Jake’s hand splays protectively over your stomach, the way Sunghoon’s lips brush your shoulder every few seconds like he can’t help himself.

Heeseung’s breathing grows ragged first. “Gonna come,” he warns, voice strained, almost pleading. “Where do you want it, baby?” You can’t answer with words. Just tighten your lips around him, suck harder, look up at him with wide, glassy eyes.

He swears under his breath. Pulls out at the last second, strokes himself twice, and spills across your tongue in thick, warm pulses. You swallow what you can; the rest drips from the corner of your mouth. Heeseung catches it with his thumb, pushes it back between your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispers again. This time his voice cracks. Jake’s rhythm falters behind you. His forehead drops to your shoulder. “Fuck—can I—inside?”

You nod frantically, around Heeseung’s softening cock still resting on your tongue.

He groans, long, low, broken, and buries himself deep. Comes with a shudder that rocks through both of you. Hot. Thick. Filling you until it leaks out around him, down your thighs. He doesn’t pull out right away. Just stays seated, grinding lazily through the aftershocks, letting you clench around him like he’s trying to keep every drop where it belongs.

Sunghoon’s fingers speed up just enough, still gentle, still careful, and you come like a wave breaking slow. No scream. No violent shaking. Just a long, trembling release that leaves you boneless, whimpering softly into Heeseung’s thigh.

They don’t rush to move.

Jake stays inside you, softening but not leaving. Sunghoon keeps petting your clit through the aftershocks, light, soothing touches now. Heeseung strokes your hair back from your face, tucking strands behind your ear.

Jay finally lowers the phone. Stops recording. Sets the mug on the side table. Walks over. He kneels on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed, and cups your cheek. Thumb swipes away the last trace of Heeseung from your lip.

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You nod. Eyes heavy. Body humming. He leans down. Kisses your forehead, soft. Lingering. Then he looks at the others. “Group chat,” he says simply. “She’s gonna want to see it later.”

Jake chuckles, soft, breathless, against your neck. “She’s gonna come again just watching.” Sunghoon finally pulls his hand away. Presses one last kiss to your shoulder blade. Heeseung helps ease you onto your side, careful, like you might shatter. Jake slips out slowly, both of you hissing at the loss. Cum leaks immediately, thick, white, obscene. Jay grabs a clean towel from the nightstand, wipes between your thighs with the same gentle care Heeseung used last night.

No one speaks for a minute. Just breathing. Skin cooling. Hearts slowing. Then Heeseung breaks the quiet. “We were… a lot,” he says. Voice rough. Eyes on yours. “Yesterday. The day before. If it’s too much—”

You shake your head before he can finish. Reach up. Curl your fingers around his wrist. “I’m here,” you whisper. “I’m staying.” Something flickers across his face, relief, maybe. Guilt, definitely.

Jay’s hand finds yours. Squeezes once. Jake presses his lips to the back of your neck, soft, apologetic. Sunghoon just watches you. Then leans in. Kisses the corner of your mouth. Slow. Sweet. “Breakfast,” Jay says eventually. “In bed. No rules for the next hour.”

You laugh, small, wrecked, real. They move like they’ve been given permission to be soft. And for the first time since you moved in, you let yourself believe they might actually mean it. The rest of the day unfolds like something borrowed from another life.

No one touches you. Not in the hungry, claiming way you’ve come to expect. No wandering hands under your shirt while you’re making toast. No casual spanks when you bend to pick up a stray sock. No one pins you against the counter or drags you onto a lap. The rules, those printed, obscene bullet points on the fridge, might as well be written in invisible ink for how irrelevant they feel in the soft, lazy hours that follow breakfast.

They just… stay.

All four of them orbit you without crowding. The living room becomes this strange, sunlit island: blankets dragged from bedrooms, pillows piled into a makeshift nest on the sectional, takeout containers from last night still scattered like evidence of a truce. Someone puts on music, low-fi beats, nothing aggressive, just enough rhythm to fill the quiet without demanding attention. Jake sprawls across the floor with his head in your lap, scrolling memes on his phone and reading the funniest ones out loud in increasingly ridiculous voices until you snort-laugh and accidentally knee him in the ribs.

“Ow, princess, you trying to murder me?” he whines, but he’s grinning, grabbing your hand to press a dramatic kiss to your knuckles before going right back to his phone.

Jay sits cross-legged at the other end of the couch, one of your feet in his lap. He massages your ankle absentmindedly while he argues with Heeseung about whether the new season of some crime drama is trash or genius. Every time you shift, he squeezes your calf once, gentle, grounding, like a silent check-in.

Heeseung’s on the armchair opposite, legs kicked up on the coffee table, nursing the same lukewarm coffee from this morning. He catches your eye every so often and just… holds it. No smirk. No heat. Just a small, almost shy tilt of his mouth, like he’s still surprised you’re still here.

Sunghoon is the quietest. He’s tucked into the corner of the sectional, long legs stretched out, one arm slung over the backrest behind you. He doesn’t say much, just watches. Watches you laugh at Jake’s dumb jokes. Watches the way your shoulders slowly unclench. Watches the way the afternoon light turns your skin gold.

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time someone shifts closer, every time a hand brushes your arm or knee, your body tenses on instinct, bracing for the grab, the grope, the inevitable slide into filth. But it never comes.

Instead: Jake starts a pillow fight that lasts exactly thirty five seconds before Jay declares himself referee and tackles Jake into the cushions. Heeseung orders fried chicken and insists on feeding you the first piece, holding it to your lips like Jay used to, but this time there’s no sauce-smeared thumb, no dirty promise in his eyes. Just a soft “Open up, baby,” and when you do, he smiles like you’ve given him something precious.

Sunghoon eventually migrates closer. Not crowding. Just enough that his thigh presses warm against yours. You glance at him, skeptical, guarded, still half-expecting the mask to slip. He notices. Of course he does. His hand lifts, slow, telegraphing every movement so you can pull away if you want. You don’t.

Fingers gentle, he reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingers there, knuckles grazing the shell lightly, before he lets his palm cup the side of your face for half a heartbeat. You freeze. He smiles. Not the cold, cutting one he usually wears. Something smaller. Softer. Almost sad.

“You are our friend, sweetheart,” he says quietly. His voice is low enough that the others have to strain to hear, but they do. The room quiets around the words like they’re something fragile. You blink. Throat tight. Sunghoon’s thumb brushes your cheekbone once, barely there.

“We fucked this up from the start,” he continues, softer still. “We saw you walk through that door looking like you were ready to bolt at the first wrong move… and we made sure every move was wrong. On purpose.” His gaze drops to where his hand still rests against your skin. “Thought it’d be easier if you hated us. If you left on your own. If we never had to admit we wanted you to stay for more than just—”

He stops. Swallows. “—for more than just the easy parts.” The confession hangs there, heavy and unpolished. Jake’s head is still in your lap; he’s gone unnaturally still, staring up at the ceiling like he’s afraid to interrupt. Jay’s thumb has paused on your ankle.

Heeseung sets his coffee down. Slowly. You look around at them, all four, and for the first time you see it: the guilt. Not performative. Not a tactic. Real. Raw. Sitting under their skin like a bruise they’ve been ignoring. Sunghoon’s hand finally drops from your face, but he doesn’t move away.

“We’re not asking for forgiveness,” he says. “We don’t deserve it. Not yet. But we’re not gonna keep treating you like—” He exhales through his nose. “—like you’re disposable. Not anymore.” Silence stretches. Then Jake, sweet, chaotic Jake, breaks it by pressing the softest kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Friends can still cuddle, right?” he mumbles against your skin. “Because I’m not moving. My head’s too comfy.” A tiny, surprised laugh bubbles out of you. Jay squeezes your calf once. “We’ve got time,” he says simply. “No rush. No rules today.”

Heeseung leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Tell us what you want,” he says. “Right now. Anything. We’ll listen.” You look at them, really look. The assholes who printed rules on the fridge. The ones who marked you, used you, laughed while they did it. The ones who just spent an entire day proving they know how to be gentle when they choose to be. You swallow.

“I want…” Your voice is small at first. Then steadier. “I want to believe you.” Sunghoon’s eyes soften. “Then we’ll keep showing you,” he says. “Until you do.”

Jake nuzzles closer into your lap like a cat claiming territory. Jay resumes the slow massage on your ankle. Heeseung picks up the remote, queues up some mindless comedy you’ve all seen a hundred times.

And Sunghoon, quiet, beautiful, regretful Sunghoon, leans in just enough to rest his forehead against your temple. “Friends,” he whispers again. Like a promise.

Like a beginning. The afternoon bleeds into evening. No one fucks you. No one even tries. They just stay. Laughing. Joking. Touching you like you matter. And for the first time since you moved in, you let yourself lean into it.

Just a little. Just enough to see what happens when the rules stop mattering and the people start to.

The apartment feels different when the others are gone, quieter, yes, but not the hollow kind of quiet that echoes off the walls. It’s softer, warmer, like the whole space exhales once Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon finally slip out the door with their jackets half-zipped and promises of “real food” still lingering in the air. Twenty minutes ago they each pressed a kiss to your forehead, Heeseung’s lingering the longest, his thumb sweeping slow circles over your cheekbone as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were letting all four of them stay, Jay’s quick and teasing with a wink, Sunghoon’s almost shy, lips brushing your skin like a secret. They told Jake to behave, and the second the door clicked shut behind them, Jake’s grin turned wicked, golden-retriever energy dialed up to eleven, like the instruction itself was foreplay.

He’s been orbiting you ever since, turning half-hearted chores into an excuse to stay glued to your side. You’re folding laundry on the couch, and he keeps “helping” by snatching shirts out of your hands just to hold them up like trophies before tossing them back in a messy pile. In the kitchen he hip-checks you every time you reach for a dish towel, laughing low and bright when you swat at his chest. The late-afternoon sun pours through the big windows in thick golden slabs, catching on the fine hairs of his arms, turning his skin warm and honeyed. You’re both a little sweaty from moving around, the faint scent of his cologne, something clean, mixing with the laundry detergent and the leftover smell of last night’s fried chicken still clinging to the air. 

“You’re terrible at this,” you say, watching him wrestle a fitted sheet into something that vaguely resembles a rectangle. The elastic corners keep snapping back at him like they have a personal grudge.

Jake flashes that devastating, all-teeth smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m excellent at distractions. Watch this, baby.”

Before you can protest, he shakes the sheet out with dramatic flair, like a matador taunting a bull, then whips it over both your heads in one smooth motion. The world narrows instantly to white cotton filtered sunlight, the fabric draping around you like a private tent. You’re both laughing before you can stop it, deep, helpless belly laughs that make your ribs ache and your eyes water. The sheet muffles everything, turning the sound intimate and close. Jake’s body is right there, heat radiating off him, chest brushing yours with every breathless chuckle. He tugs you deeper under the fabric, arms wrapping loosely around your waist, and suddenly the playful game shifts. His nose nudges yours. You feel the brush of his lashes against your cheek. The laughter fades into something heavier, warmer, the air between you thickening like honey.

“See?” he murmurs, voice low and rougher now. “Masterclass in procrastination.”

You roll your eyes, but your hands are already sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You don’t push him away. You pull him closer.

The sheet eventually slips to the floor in a crumpled heap, forgotten. You move down the hallway together, the basket of clean clothes balanced on your hip, Jake trailing so close his fingers keep ghosting the small of your back. You bend over to grab a stray sock that’s escaped onto the floor, nothing exaggerated, just a natural lean, your thin cotton shorts riding up just enough to expose the curve where thigh meets hip. Behind you, Jake sucks in a sharp, punched-out breath, like the sight physically winds him.

You freeze.

His hand settles on your hip, palm broad and hot, fingers spreading wide over the soft flesh through the fabric. Not a slap, not a grope. Just… claiming. Resting there with deliberate weight, thumb stroking a slow, lazy circle that makes your skin prickle. You feel every callus on his fingertips, the faint tremble in his touch like he’s fighting the urge to squeeze harder. Heat blooms low in your belly, liquid and slow.

You straighten up slowly, deliberately, and his hand stays glued to you, sliding with the motion so it ends up cupping the full cheek. He turns you around with the gentlest pressure on your hip, like you’re made of glass he’s terrified of cracking. Your back meets the cool wall of the hallway with a soft thud. Jake crowds in immediately, but not aggressively, his body cages you without trapping, one forearm braced beside your head, the other hand still kneading your ass with slow, possessive squeezes that make your breath hitch.

His eyes have gone dark, almost black, pupils blown wide. Not the usual playful hunger. Something deeper. Hungrier. Worshipful.

“Hey,” he breathes, voice gravel-rough. “You good? Still with me?” You nod, small and shaky, because the air has turned thick, syrupy, every inhale dragging like molasses. Your nipples are already tight against your shirt, and you know he can see it. He leans in like he’s giving you every chance to stop him. The first kiss is feather-light, barely a brush of lips, testing, asking. You answer by tilting your head, parting your mouth just enough, tongue flicking out to taste him. That’s all the permission he needs.

Jake kisses you like he’s been starving for it since the day you moved in, like every shared glance and late-night movie marathon has been foreplay leading to this exact second. Slow. So fucking slow. His lips are plush and warm, sliding against yours with wet, deliberate pressure. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, tongue tracing the seam until you open wider, then he licks inside, deep, lazy strokes that map every inch of you like he’s memorizing the taste. You moan softly into his mouth and he answers with a low, guttural groan that vibrates straight down to your clit. His hand on your ass tightens, pulling you flush against him so you can feel exactly how hard he already is, thick, heavy ridge straining against his sweatpants, pressing right against your lower belly.

One of his hands cradles your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone while the other slides up under your shirt, palm flat and scorching against the bare skin of your stomach. He doesn’t rush. His fingers splay wide, stroking up your ribs, tracing the underside of your breasts with reverent touches. When his thumb finally brushes over your nipple, already pebbled and aching, he circles it slowly, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp and arch into him. He swallows the sound, kissing you deeper, tongue fucking into your mouth in filthy, rhythmic strokes that mimic exactly what you wish his cock was doing somewhere else.

You’re grinding on his thigh now, small, helpless rolls of your hips that drag your soaked pussy along the hard muscle. The thin fabric of your shorts is useless; you can feel how wet you’ve gotten, the slickness coating your inner thighs, probably leaving a damp spot on his sweats. Jake breaks the kiss only to drag his open mouth down your jaw, sucking wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. He bites down gently, then soothes it with his tongue, leaving faint red marks that bloom under his lips. You tilt your head back against the wall, exposing more of your throat, and he takes full advantage, licking a hot stripe down to your collarbone, sucking hard enough that you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow, little purple galaxies only the four of them will see.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking good,” he groans against your skin, voice wrecked. “Sweet. Like you’ve been waiting for me to do this all day.”

His hand leaves your breast only to slide down, cupping your pussy through your shorts. He doesn’t push inside, just rubs the heel of his palm in slow, firm circles right over your clit, feeling how soaked the fabric is. You whimper, hips jerking, and he chuckles darkly into your neck.

“Yeah? That feel good, baby? You’re dripping for me already.”

You can’t answer with words, just a broken moan as two of his fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, tracing your slick folds without pushing in, spreading your wetness up to your clit and rubbing tight, teasing circles. Your hands are frantic now, one fisted in his hair, the other palming the thick length of his cock through his sweats, squeezing and stroking him until he’s panting against your mouth, hips twitching like he’s fighting not to rut into your hand.

You kiss for what feels like hours, messy, spit-slick, tongues tangled and sliding. Your lips are swollen and tingling, jaw aching in the best way. He keeps breaking away only to come right back, sucking on your tongue, biting your bottom lip, whispering filthy little praises between kisses.

“So fucking pretty when you’re desperate like this… making those sweet little sounds for me… gonna ruin me, baby, you know that?”

Your legs are trembling. He notices, always notices, and presses his thigh harder between yours, letting you ride it properly now, the friction perfect and relentless. His fingers keep working your clit in lazy strokes, dipping just inside your entrance to gather more slick before sliding back up, never giving you enough to come, just keeping you right on the edge, trembling and whimpering into his mouth.

When he finally pulls back, forehead resting against yours, both of you are breathing like you’ve run miles, chests heaving, lips shiny and red, his hair a complete mess from your fingers. His eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, cock throbbing visibly against your palm.

“Shit,” he laughs, breathless and shaky. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, I just—”

You cut him off with another kiss, slow, deep, pouring everything you’re feeling into it. When you pull away, you whisper against his swollen lips, “I know. I wanted it too.”

He smiles, that crooked, boyish, heart-stopping smile, and kisses the tip of your nose, then your forehead, then pulls you tight into his chest. His arms wrap around you completely, one hand still cupping your ass possessively, the other stroking soothing circles up and down your spine. You can feel his heart hammering against yours, his cock still hard and insistent between you, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t grind. Just holds you there in the hallway, the distant hum of the fridge and the faint city traffic the only sounds left.

You stay like that for a long, indulgent stretch of minutes, bodies pressed together, breaths syncing, the ache between your legs still pulsing but somehow perfectly satisfied by the simple fact of being wrapped up in him. His lips brush your temple.

“Friends can make out, right?” he murmurs, echoing the joke from earlier, voice warm with affection and something deeper.

You laugh softly against his chest, the sound muffled and content. “Yeah, Jake. Friends can definitely make out.”

And for now, for this golden, sun-drenched afternoon, that’s more than enough. The others will be back soon, but right now the apartment is yours and his, and he just keeps holding you like he never wants to let go.

The hallway still smells faintly of Jake’s cologne, clean and warm skin, and the soft, powdery scent of laundry detergent clinging to the crumpled clothes you never quite finished putting away. His lips are swollen and glossy from the long, lazy make-out against the wall, cheeks flushed a deep pink, pupils blown so wide the pretty hazel is almost gone. He’s breathing hard through his nose, forehead pressed to yours like he needs the contact to stay grounded, hands still shoved up under your shirt, palms hot and broad against the small of your back, thumbs tracing slow, idle arcs that make your spine tingle.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked and soft all at once, raw like he’s been shouting your name for hours even though he hasn’t. “I need you on me, princess. Need to feel that pretty pussy sliding down my cock right fucking now.”

The words drop straight into your belly, heavy and molten. You swallow hard, thighs pressing together on instinct, and he feels the tiny clench, grins against the side of your neck, boyish and filthy at the same time.

He doesn’t beg. Doesn’t grab. Just brushes his mouth over the shell of your ear, hot breath ghosting, voice a low rasp that curls straight between your legs.

“Ride me. Please. On the couch. Slow. Let me feel every inch of you taking me like you own it.”

Your cunt throbs at the plea. You nod before you even realize you’re doing it.

Jake laces his fingers through yours, gentle, almost sweet, and leads you back down the hall like you’re going for a Sunday stroll, not about to fuck him stupid in the middle of the living room. The late-afternoon light has shifted, pouring across the big sectional in thick, golden rivers; the cushions are still dented from earlier folding sessions, the air warm and lazy. He drops onto the couch first, sprawling wide, legs splayed, grey sweats already tented, the thick outline of his cock straining against the fabric like it’s trying to escape.

He then hooks his fingers against the edge of your shorts and drags them down, along with your panties. His eyes darken as he gulps and looks up at you.

He pats his thigh once, slow, inviting, eyes locked on yours with that crooked, heart-melting grin.

You don’t hesitate. You climb on, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips, and the first slow grind of your bare, soaked cunt against the hard, hot length of him through the thin material rips a twin hiss from both your throats. You’re dripping, have been since he pinned you to the hallway wall, and the fabric is already darkening under you, slick. Jake’s hands settle on your hips, not guiding yet, just holding, thumbs stroking the skin right above the waistband of your shorts like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

You start slow. Torturously slow. Tiny, rolling rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the rigid ridge of his cock again and again. The friction is perfect, wet, hot, teasing. Every pass makes the fabric cling tighter, the head of his dick bumping right where you need it. Jake’s head falls back against the couch, throat working on a low, broken groan, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Goddamn, baby… look at you. Already so fucking wet you’re soaking through my sweats. That little pussy weeping for me.”

You giggle, breathless, giddy, almost embarrassed at how turned on you are, and lean down to kiss him. Soft at first, just lips brushing, then deeper: tongues sliding lazy and messy, tasting the faint salt of his skin and the sweetness of the iced americano he had earlier. His hands slide back under your shirt, palms scalding against your ribs, thumbs circling the undersides of your breasts in slow, reverent strokes until your nipples are tight, aching peaks. He pinches them gently, rolls them between thumb and forefinger, and you arch into his touch with a whimper that makes him smile against your mouth.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he mumbles between kisses, voice thick. “So perfect. Been dreaming about this tight little cunt wrapped around me since the second you walked through that door and smiled at all of us like we hung the moon. Gonna let me feel it now, princess? Gonna sit on my cock and ride me nice and slow?”

You lift just enough to shove his sweats down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick, flushed dark, veins standing out, the tip already glistening with a fat bead of pre-cum that streaks down the shaft when you wrap your fingers around him. One slow, firm stroke from base to head has him groaning, hips twitching up into your fist. You line him up, notch the blunt head against your dripping entrance, and sink down.

The first inch is heaven.

You both moan, long, filthy sounds, as he stretches you open, thick and hot and perfect, splitting you so deliciously slow you feel every ridge, every vein. Your mouth falls open, eyes fluttering shut. He bottoms out with your ass flush to his thighs, balls pressed tight against you, and the fullness is so overwhelming your walls flutter around him like you’re already close.

“Fuuuuck,” Jake breathes, hands flexing hard on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to bruise. “That’s it. Take every fucking inch, princess. Look at you, swallowing me like you were made for it. So goddamn tight and wet and perfect.”

You start riding him properly, long, deliberate lifts and sinks, rolling your hips on every downstroke so your clit grinds against his pelvis. The sounds of your cunt taking him echo in the quiet apartment: slick, filthy squelches every time you drop down, his cock glistening with your arousal when you rise. Jake’s eyes are glued to where you’re joined, watching himself disappear inside you over and over with something like awe.

“Listen to that,” he groans, voice cracking. “That sloppy little sound every time you take me. You’re dripping down my balls, baby, making such a pretty mess all over me. Gonna stain the couch and I don’t even care.”

You bury your face in his neck for a second, flushed and turned on beyond words, then bite down on the skin there, light, teasing. He jolts, cock twitching hard inside you, and groans louder.

“Fuck, do that again. Mark me up, princess. Want the others to see who got to have you first.”

You do, sucking a faint pink bloom into his throat while you ride him harder, faster, breasts bouncing under your thin shirt. His mouth finds your nipple through the fabric, sucking hard, teeth grazing, soaking the cotton until it’s transparent and clinging. You cry out, high and needy, hips snapping down faster now, chasing the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.

Jake’s losing it beautifully, head thrown back, throat exposed, hands gripping your ass and spreading you wider so he can watch every inch of his cock sliding in and out of your greedy cunt.

“Shit, ride it harder, baby. Fuck yourself on me. Use my cock like the greedy little slut you are. Come all over it, wanna feel this pussy milk me dry.”

The filthy words spoken in that sweet, reverent tone send you spiraling. You slam down harder, clit grinding relentlessly, thighs burning. He slides one hand between you, thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, firm circles.

“Come on, princess. Give it to me. Soak my cock. Make it messy. Wanna feel you gush.”

You shatter with a broken cry, head thrown back, back arching, clamping down around him in hard, pulsing waves. Your vision whites out. Thighs shake violently. You gush around him, slick flooding out around his base, soaking his balls and the couch beneath you. Jake swears, low and guttural, hips stuttering up once, twice, burying himself to the hilt as he comes, thick, hot ropes of cum painting your walls, filling you so full it leaks out immediately around his throbbing length.

He holds you flush against him through every aftershock, arms banded tight around your waist, forehead pressed to your collarbone, breathing ragged and shaky. You stay like that, sweaty, trembling, his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum slowly trickling out, while he kisses your shoulder, your neck, the corner of your mouth with soft, lazy presses.

“Best fucking ride of my life,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and sated, nuzzling into your hair.

You laugh, soft, spent, glowing, and nuzzle back. “Friends can do that too, right?”

He chuckles, kissing your temple. “Friends can do whatever the fuck they want.” You’re still seated on him, his cock twitching occasionally inside your cum-filled pussy, when the front door clicks open.

Neither of you moves fast enough. Sunghoon steps in first, grocery bags dangling from one hand, keys in the other, the faint scent of fresh produce and restaurant takeout wafting in with him. He freezes mid-step. Eyes lock on the scene: you straddling Jake on the couch, shirt rucked up to your collarbones, thighs spread obscenely wide, Jake’s cock still half-hard and buried inside you, thick white cum already leaking in slow, creamy rivulets down his balls and onto the cushion.

The bags hit the floor with a heavy, forgotten thud. A carton of eggs probably cracks, but no one cares. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens so hard you hear the sharp click of his teeth. His eyes, usually cool and calm, go black, dangerous, glittering with something possessive and furious.

“What. The. Fuck.”

His voice is ice wrapped in velvet. Low. Deadly calm. Jake startles, arms tightening around you protectively, but he doesn’t dare pull out. Doesn’t even try to cover you.

“Hyung—wait, it’s not—”

Sunghoon crosses the room in three long strides, towering over both of you. He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t shove Jake. Just reaches down, grips your chin between thumb and forefinger, firm, not bruising, and tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb drags slow and deliberate across your bottom lip, then presses inside. You suck instinctively, tongue swirling around the digit, tasting the faint salt of his skin.

His eyes flick to Jake, cold as winter.

“Get out from under her. Now.”

Jake hesitates half a second. Sunghoon’s voice drops even lower, lethal.

“I said now.”

Jake lifts you carefully with a wet, filthy sound that makes Sunghoon’s nostrils flare. The moment he slips free, a thick gush of his cum pours out of you, sliding down your inner thighs in white trails. Jake stays seated on the couch, chest heaving as he watches warily.

Sunghoon never looks away from you. He steps closer, one hand sliding to the nape of your neck, thumb pressing right over your racing pulse, while the other grips your hip hard enough to anchor you. “You let him fuck you the second we walked out the door?” he murmurs, voice velvet and venom, lips brushing your ear. “Spread this pretty pussy for whoever was home first? Without waiting for me? Without even texting?”

You shake your head, small, instinctive, breath caught in your throat. “No?”

He leans in closer, breath hot against your skin. “Then why the fuck are you stuffed so full of him, hmm?”

Two of his long fingers dip between your thighs without warning, sliding deep into your cum-slick cunt with a wet squelch. You gasp, knees buckling. He curls them slowly, deliberately, scissoring, feeling the warm, sticky mess Jake left behind, pushing it deeper before dragging it out again. When he pulls his fingers free they’re coated thick and white. He holds them up between you, shiny, dripping, then brings them to your mouth.

“Clean.”

You open obediently. Suck his fingers clean, tongue swirling, tasting yourself and Jake and the faint metallic tang of Sunghoon’s skin, moaning around them while he watches with dark, unblinking eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises, voice low and rough. Then, suddenly, he yanks you forward by the neck and kisses you, hard, possessive, teeth clashing, tongue fucking into your mouth like he’s erasing every trace of Jake’s kisses. When he pulls back his lips are wet, eyes blazing with jealousy and hunger.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for you to walk. Just scoops you up like you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck, cum still dripping down your thighs and onto his shirt. Jake scrambles up and follows, sweats tugged up haphazardly.

Sunghoon kicks the bedroom door shut behind the three of you with a bang that rattles the frame. He drops you onto the bed, gentle enough not to hurt, rough enough that you bounce, thighs splaying open automatically. He looms over you, tall and broad and radiating controlled fury.

“Strip. Everything off. Let me see exactly what he got to play with while I was gone.”

You obey instantly, tugging your shirt over your head, shoving your shorts down, kicking them aside until you’re completely bare, pussy puffy and glistening.

His gaze rakes over every inch of you, slow, possessive, furious, hungry. He licks his lips. “You’re mine tonight, princess. All fucking mine. And you’re going to feel exactly who this cunt belongs to until you can’t remember anyone else’s name.”

He glances at Jake, standing frozen by the door, eyes wide and cock twitching in his sweats.

“You can watch,” Sunghoon says coldly, voice like a blade. “But you don’t touch. Not until I say so. You sit there and watch me take back what’s mine.”

Jake swallows hard. Nods once. Sinks into the chair in the corner, hand already palming himself through his sweats like he can’t help it.

Sunghoon turns back to you. Grabs your thighs in both hands and spreads them wide, wide enough that your folds spread, dripping. He lowers his head slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

The first long, vicious swipe of his tongue through your folds is punishing, hot, wet, claiming, licking every drop of Jake’s cum straight out of you like he’s erasing the evidence. You arch off the bed with a sharp cry, hands flying to his hair. Sunghoon doesn’t stop. He eats you like a man starved, tongue fucking deep inside your cum-filled hole, sucking noisily, swallowing every filthy mix of you and Jake with low, possessive growls that vibrate straight to your clit. He sucks your swollen folds into his mouth, tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit, then dives back in to lap at the creamy mess still oozing out of you.

You’re moaning, loud, broken, shameless, hips grinding against his face while he devours you, chin and lips shiny with cum and your fresh slick. He pulls back just long enough to growl against your thigh,

“Gonna lick every last drop of him out of this pussy until it only tastes like me. And then I’m going to fuck you so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow when the others take their turns.”

His mouth seals back over your clit, sucking hard, two fingers plunging deep, and the jealousy is only just beginning.

The bedroom is thick with the sounds of Sunghoon’s mouth devouring you, long, filthy drags of his tongue through your cum-slick folds, sucking Jake’s release out of your fluttering hole like he’s personally insulted by every drop. He’s relentless, humming low against your clit, two fingers curled deep inside you, scissoring and stroking that spongy spot that makes your thighs quake around his ears. Your back is arched off the bed, hands fisted in his dark hair, moans spilling out broken and shameless as another orgasm teeters right on the edge.

Then the door bangs open.

Heeseung fills the frame like a storm cloud, broad shoulders tight, jaw locked, one hand fisted in the back of Jake’s t-shirt. Jake looks wrecked already: lips kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed crimson, cock still half-hard and shiny with your slick, the cocky little grin from earlier completely wiped away. Heeseung doesn’t even glance at you at first. His voice is low, calm, the kind of calm that makes the air feel heavier.

“Living room. Now.”

Jake opens his mouth, probably to whine, to joke, to try and charm his way out of it, but Heeseung’s grip tightens, fabric stretching across Jake’s shoulders. Jake stumbles forward instead, casting one last wide-eyed look at you before they disappear down the hall. The living-room door shuts with a soft, deliberate click that somehow feels louder than a slam.

You’re left panting, chest heaving, Sunghoon’s tongue still lazily circling your clit like the interruption was nothing more than background noise. He presses one last open-mouthed kiss to your dripping pussy, then pulls back slowly, lips glossy, chin glistening with a messy mix of you and Jake. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, slow and deliberate, eyes dark and glittering with dark amusement as he rises to his knees between your spread thighs.

“Looks like someone earned himself a timeout,” he murmurs, voice velvet-rough, thumb brushing a lazy stripe up your inner thigh to collect the fresh slick still leaking out of you. His gaze flicks toward the hallway, then back to your flushed, trembling body. “Guess that leaves the three of us to remind you exactly how this works, princess.”

Jay appears in the doorway a heartbeat later, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder propped against the frame, eyes raking over you with that cool, assessing hunger that always makes your stomach flip. He takes his time stepping inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet snick, the lock clicking into place like a promise.

You try to push yourself up on your elbows, instinct, nerves, the sudden awareness of how exposed and messy you are, but Sunghoon’s large hand plants flat on your sternum and pushes you right back down into the mattress. Firm. Unyielding. Possessive.

“Stay right there,” he says softly, almost sweet, but the edge underneath it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “We’re not done with you yet.”

Jay stops at the foot of the bed, looking down at the obscene picture you make: completely naked, skin flushed pink, thighs shiny with slick and cum, nipples tight and begging, pussy puffy and still leaking. He reaches out, fingers threading through the hair at your scalp, tightening until your breath hitches. He yanks your head back just enough to expose the long line of your throat, thumb stroking once over your racing pulse.

“You let him fuck you raw the second we left,” Jay says, voice low and dangerously even. “Without asking. Without waiting. Without even a text to let us know our pretty little slut was getting her cunt filled.”

His free hand slides down your body, possessive, claiming, cupping your soaked pussy like it belongs to him. Two thick fingers push inside without warning, rough and deep, curling hard against that spot that makes white sparks burst behind your eyes. You cry out, hips jerking, walls fluttering greedily around the intrusion.

Sunghoon watches with a mean little smile, one hand lazily stroking his own thick cock. “This pussy,” Jay continues, voice dropping to a growl as he pumps his fingers faster, “is ours. All of ours. You don’t get to decide who fills it first when we’re not here. Understand?”

You nod frantically, tears of overwhelming pleasure already pricking your eyes. “Y-yes—fuck—yes, it’s yours—”

Sunghoon’s hand replaces Jay’s on your throat, long fingers wrapping around the column, squeezing just enough to make the edges of your vision sparkle and your cunt gush around Jay’s fingers. Not cutting off air. Just reminding you who’s in control.

“Good girl,” Sunghoon breathes against your ear, leaning down to bite your earlobe. “Now prove it.”

They move like they’ve choreographed this a hundred times in their heads.

Jay flips you onto your stomach in one smooth motion, face pressed into the sheets that already smell like sex, ass up high, back arched deep. He keeps one hand fisted tight in your hair, yanking your head back until your spine bends in that perfect, aching curve. Sunghoon shoves your thighs wider apart, knees sinking into the mattress as he kneels behind you. His cock is flushed dark, angry, veins throbbing, pre-cum beading at the tip as he lines up and slams in, deep, brutal, one single punishing thrust that punches the air straight out of your lungs.

You scream into the sheets, the stretch burning so good it borders on too much. Sunghoon doesn’t give you time to adjust. He sets a ruthless pace immediately, hips snapping forward, balls slapping wetly against your clit with every brutal drive, the wet squelch of your cum-filled pussy echoing obscenely. Jay releases your hair only to wrap his hand around your throat from the front instead, squeezing in perfect time with Sunghoon’s thrusts, thumb pressing under your jaw so you feel every heartbeat.

“Take it,” Jay growls, voice rough with arousal. “Every fucking inch. You wanted cock so bad you couldn’t even wait for all of us? Then you’re gonna take everything we give you, princess. Gonna let us ruin this greedy little hole until you remember who it belongs to.”

Sunghoon leans over your back, chest slick with sweat against your spine, one hand fisting your hair now while the other reaches around to slap your clit, sharp, stinging little taps that make you clench and sob. Jay’s free hand comes down hard on your ass, once, twice, three times, each smack leaving a bright red handprint that blooms hot across your skin.

“Whose pussy is this?” Jay demands, voice low and filthy.

“Yours—” you sob, voice cracking. “Yours—fuck—yours—Sunghoon—Jay—please—”

Sunghoon yanks your head back harder, lips brushing your ear as he pounds into you. “Say it louder. Let the whole fucking apartment hear who owns this cunt.”

The rhythmic slap of skin on skin, your choked moans, Sunghoon’s low possessive growls—“This tight little pussy is fucking mine”—carry clearly down the hallway.

In the living room, Heeseung has Jake pinned against the wall by the collar, fist raised, knuckles white with restraint. The first muffled scream from the bedroom makes them both freeze. Then another, higher, broken, needy. The unmistakable wet slap of Sunghoon’s hips. Jay’s dark chuckle. Your desperate, gagged whimpers around whatever they’re doing to your mouth now.

Heeseung’s fist slowly lowers. Jake’s eyes go wide, cock twitching visibly in his sweats.

Heeseung turns toward the bedroom door, expression unreadable but eyes burning.

Then they’re both moving, fast. 

They burst through the door just as Sunghoon buries himself to the hilt with a guttural groan. You’re a complete wreck: face down, ass up, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, tears streaking your cheeks, ass glowing red from Jay’s handprints, cunt stretched obscenely around Sunghoon’s thick cock, creamy cum from Jake and your own slick coating your thighs.

Heeseung stops at the foot of the bed, takes one long, possessive look at the scene, then climbs on without a word. 

“Move,” he tells Sunghoon, voice low and lethal.

Sunghoon slows just enough to pull out with a wet, filthy pop, thick strings of cum and slick connecting his cock to your gaping hole. Heeseung grabs your hips, flips you onto your back like you weigh nothing, and hooks your legs over his arms, folding you in half until your knees are by your ears. He lines up and slams in, harder, deeper, angrier than Sunghoon, bottoming out in one brutal thrust that makes you scream his name.

Jay pulls back from where he’d been feeding you his cock, letting you gasp for air, then moves behind you. Sunghoon shifts to your side, hand wrapping around your throat again, thumb stroking your pulse almost tenderly now.

Jay presses the blunt head of his cock against your ass, already slick from the mess dripping down, and pushes in slow, relentless, the burn intense and overwhelming as he stretches you open around him. Heeseung stays buried to the hilt in your pussy, holding perfectly still while Jay sinks deeper, until both of them are fully seated inside you, rubbing against each other through the thin wall, filling you so completely you can feel them in your throat.

You’re sobbing, overwhelmed, stretched to your limit, pleasure so sharp it hurts, in the best possible way.

“Breathe, baby,” Sunghoon murmurs, voice softer now, fingers loosening just enough on your throat. “You’re taking us so fucking well. Such a good girl for us.”

They start moving, slow at first, testing, letting you adjust to the impossible fullness. Then harder. Deeper. Alternating thrusts, Heeseung driving in while Jay pulls out, Jay slamming home while Heeseung retreats, until the rhythm syncs and they’re both fucking into you at the same time, stretching you open on two thick cocks with every synchronized thrust.

Jake stands frozen by the door, cock rock-hard again, hand wrapped tight around it, stroking himself slow and desperate, eyes wide and glassy with guilt and raw arousal. Sunghoon notices. His voice cuts through the wet sounds of flesh. “Watch, Jake. You started this. Now you get to watch how we remind her exactly who she belongs to.”

Jay’s fingers find your swollen, oversensitive clit, rubbing fast, rough circles that make your vision spark white.

“Come,” he orders, voice rough. “Come on both our cocks. Milk us. Show us who this perfect body belongs to.”

You shatter harder than you ever have, screaming, back bowing, spasming violently around both cocks, gushing slick down Heeseung’s shaft as your orgasm rips through you in endless waves. Heeseung comes first with a deep, broken growl of your name, flooding your pussy with hot, thick pulses. Jay follows seconds later, burying himself deep in your ass and filling you with rope after rope until it leaks out around his base. Sunghoon strokes himself twice, fast and rough, then spills across your stomach and tits in long, creamy stripes, marking you visibly.

They don’t pull out right away.

Just stay buried deep inside you, panting, sweating, chests heaving, holding you between them like something precious and thoroughly, beautifully ruined.

Heeseung leans down first, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your tear-streaked cheek. “Mine,” he whispers against your skin.

Jay echoes it against your shoulder, lips brushing the fresh bite mark Sunghoon left earlier. “Mine.”

Sunghoon’s fingers loosen completely on your throat, turning into gentle strokes along your jaw. “Mine too, princess. Always.”

You’re trembling, wrecked, full to overflowing, claimed in every possible way. And Jake, still standing by the door, cock leaking in his fist, eyes shiny with regret and desperate need, looks like he’s never wanted forgiveness more in his life.

The entire room smells like sex and sweat and something deeper, something dangerously close to devotion. None of them move to let you go. Not yet.

The room is thick with the aftermath, sweat, sex, the faint metallic tang of overstimulation hanging in the air like smoke. Your body feels liquid and heavy, every muscle spent, every inch of skin marked in some way: fingerprints blooming on your hips, faint red lines from Sunghoon’s grip on your throat, the slow leak of them all still inside you, warm and obscene between your thighs.

No one moves right away.

Heeseung is the first to shift. He eases out of you carefully, slow, deliberate, hissing softly at the drag. Jay follows, pulling out with the same measured gentleness, both of them watching your face for any flicker of pain. Sunghoon’s hand leaves your throat last, fingers trailing down your sternum in a soothing path before he sits back on his heels.

You’re trembling, small, involuntary shivers that ripple through you like aftershocks. Jay notices first. He reaches over the side of the bed, grabs the soft throw blanket that’s been kicked to the floor sometime in the last hour. Drapes it over your lower half, tucking it around your waist like he’s wrapping something fragile.

“Easy,” he murmurs. Voice low, rough from use. “We’ve got you.”

Heeseung slides off the bed, still naked, still glistening, and disappears into the en-suite bathroom. Water runs. A minute later he returns with two warm, damp cloths. One for your face, one for between your legs.

He kneels beside you. Presses the cloth to your cheek first, gentle swipes over tear tracks, then your swollen lips. You lean into it without thinking. Heeseung’s free hand cups the back of your head, thumb stroking the base of your skull in slow circles.

Sunghoon moves to your other side. Takes the second cloth from Heeseung when he’s done with your face. Parts your thighs carefully, murmurs a soft “shh” when you flinch at the cool air, and cleans you with careful strokes. Between your folds, down your thighs, over the sticky mess on your stomach and chest. He’s thorough. Patient. Every pass of the cloth feels like an apology he doesn’t know how to say out loud.

Jake is still hovering near the door, shirtless now, sweats low on his hips, looking like he’s not sure he’s allowed to come closer. Heeseung glances at him once. Sharp. Then softer.

“Water,” Heeseung says. Not an order. Just a word. Jake nods, quick, grateful, and bolts. Heeseung turns back to you.

“Can you sit up a little?” You nod, weak, but willing. Jay helps, arm around your shoulders, easing you against the headboard. Pillows get rearranged behind your back until you’re propped comfortably. The blanket stays tucked around your waist; someone (Sunghoon) pulls the sheet up to cover your chest without smothering you.

Jake returns with a tall glass of water and, somehow, a small tray he must have grabbed from the kitchen. On it: a bowl of cut fruit (strawberries, mango, grapes, someone’s idea of “recovery food”), a few pieces of the chocolate they keep stashed in the fridge, a packet of electrolyte powder already stirred into a second glass.

He sets it on the nightstand. Doesn’t try to climb on the bed yet. Just stands there, hands in his pockets, looking at you like you might vanish if he blinks.

Jay picks up a strawberry first. Holds it to your lips.

“Open.”

You do. The fruit is cold, sweet, bursting on your tongue. Jay feeds you slowly, another strawberry, then a piece of mango. His fingers brush your bottom lip each time, wiping away juice with his thumb.

Sunghoon takes over with the chocolate. Breaks off a small square, places it on your tongue. Watches you melt it slowly, eyes dark but soft.

“You did so good,” he says quietly. Almost to himself. “Took everything we gave you.”

Heeseung handles the water, holds the glass to your lips, tips it carefully so you can sip without spilling. When you’ve had enough, he sets it aside and wipes your mouth with the edge of the sheet.

Jake finally moves closer, slow, like he’s approaching something skittish. He perches on the very edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Voice small. “For earlier. For not waiting. For—” Heeseung cuts him off with a look. Not angry. Tired.

“Later,” Heeseung says. “She needs rest now.” Jake nods. Swallows hard. Jay reaches over, squeezes Jake’s shoulder once, firm, forgiving, then turns back to you.

“More?” he asks, nodding at the tray.

You shake your head. Full. Heavy-lidded. The ache between your legs has dulled to a low, satisfied throb; your limbs feel like warm honey.

Sunghoon takes the tray away. Sets it on the dresser.

Heeseung pulls the covers up higher, tucking them around your shoulders, smoothing the fabric over your chest. Jay adjusts the pillows again so you’re lying flat but elevated just enough. They surround you, four bodies, four sources of warmth, without crowding.

Heeseung lies on your left. Arm draped loosely over your waist. Not possessive. Protective. Jay on your right. Hand resting on your hip under the blanket. Thumb stroking idle arcs. Sunghoon stretches out at the foot of the bed, long legs hanging off the edge, head pillowed on your thigh like it’s the most natural place in the world.

Jake curls up against your legs, face tucked into the crook of your knee, one arm thrown over your shins like he’s anchoring himself there. No one speaks for a long minute. Just breathing. Slow. In sync.

Heeseung’s fingers find yours under the blanket. Laces them together. Squeezes once. “Sleep,” he murmurs against your temple. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Jay presses a kiss to your shoulder, soft, lingering. Sunghoon’s hand strokes down your calf, slow, soothing.

Jake mumbles something sleepy against your skin, too quiet to catch, but it feels like “thank you.” Your eyes flutter closed. The room smells like them, all of them, mixed with clean sheets and the faint sweetness of fruit. Just warm bodies. Gentle hands. Quiet promises. And the steady rhythm of four heartbeats lulling you under.

The idea starts innocently enough.

It’s been three days since the jealousy the three had that they claimed was just ‘heat of the moment’ but you knew better, and the apartment has settled into something dangerously close to domestic. Mornings are soft now, coffee passed hand-to-hand, lazy kisses traded over toast, rules quietly ignored unless someone’s feeling particularly mean. The fridge note is still taped up, but no one’s enforced them. It’s almost… normal.

Almost. Jay is the one who brings it up first. You’re sprawled across his lap on the sectional Sunday afternoon, legs tangled with Sunghoon’s, Jake’s head pillowed on your stomach while Heeseung scrolls through takeout apps from the armchair. Jay’s fingers are tracing idle patterns on your bare thigh, higher than friendly,lower than any action, when he says it.

“I want to take you out.”

The room stills. You lift your head from Jake’s hair. “Like… a date?” Jay’s mouth quirks. “Yeah. A date. Just you and me. Dinner. Somewhere nice. No roommates crashing.”

Sunghoon snorts without looking up from his phone. “Good luck with that.”

Heeseung glances over the top of his screen. “You’re asking permission?”

Jay shrugs. “I’m telling you. Friday night. She’s mine for the evening.”

Jake sits up slowly, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Wait—solo? Like, no sharing?”

Jay’s hand tightens on your thigh. “No sharing. One night. My rules.”

You feel the shift immediately, the air thickening with something possessive and unspoken. Heeseung’s jaw ticks once. Sunghoon finally looks up, eyes narrowing. Jake just pouts. But no one argues. Friday comes fast.

Jay picks the restaurant himself, small, upscale Italian place downtown. Dim lighting, velvet booths, candles that cost more than your old rent. He texts you the address at 6:45 p.m. sharp.

Jay: Wear something pretty baby ;) preferably no panties sweetheart

You roll your eyes at the winky face and the last obligation, but you obey anyway.

The dress is black, silk, short enough to make you nervous when you sit. Heels that click satisfyingly on the pavement. Hair down, lips red. When Jay arrives to pick you up, he stops dead in the doorway.

“Fuck,” he breathes. Steps close. Cups your face with both hands and kisses you slow, deep, claiming, tasting like mint and want. “You’re killing me.”

The drive is quiet. His hand rests high on your thigh the whole way, thumb stroking the inside seam, never quite reaching where you’re already wet. He doesn’t speak. Just smiles every time you squirm.

The restaurant is perfect.

A corner booth. Wine list thicker than a novel. Jay orders for both of you, pasta, seared scallops, tiramisu for later. His knee presses against yours under the table. His fingers brush yours when he passes the bread. It feels… romantic. Normal. Like you’re a real couple on a real date.

You’re laughing at some stupid story he’s telling about Sunghoon trying to cook once when the first text comes through.

Jake: picture of him pouting on the couch  

Jake: miss u already princess 😩

You snort. Show Jay. He rolls his eyes. “Ignore them.”

Another buzz.

Sunghoon: timestamped selfie, him shirtless in the kitchen, knife in hand, looking bored  

Sunghoon: hurry up. food’s getting cold here

Jay exhales through his nose. “They’re children.” Heeseung’s text is last.

Heeseung: Enjoy your date. We’ll behave.  

Heeseung: …mostly.

Your not sure what that means, you’re not sure if you want to find out. You laugh, soft, nervous, and slip your phone face-down. Jay reaches across the table. Takes your hand. Laces your fingers. “I meant it,” he says quietly. “Tonight’s just us. No crashing. No rules. Just you and me.”

You believe him. For about seven more minutes. The scallops arrive. Perfectly seared. You’re mid-bite when the restaurant door opens. And four familiar silhouettes step inside. Jake first, grinning like he invented mischief. Sunghoon behind him, hands in pockets, expression unreadable. Heeseung last, calm, collected, scanning the room until his eyes land on you.

Jay’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth.

“Motherfuckers,” he mutters.

They don’t hesitate. Jake slides into the booth beside you first, arm slung casually over the backrest, fingers immediately finding the nape of your neck. “Hey, princess. Fancy seeing you here.”

Sunghoon takes the seat next to Jay, long legs stretching out, forcing Jay to shift. “Nice place. Bit pretentious, though.”

Heeseung pulls up a chair from a nearby table, unapologetic, sits at the end like he owns the booth. “We were in the neighborhood.”

Jay’s jaw is so tight you’re worried it’ll crack.

“You said you would behave.”

Heeseung shrugs. “We are. We’re not fucking her on the table. Yet.”

Your face burns. Jake laughs, bright, delighted, leans in and kisses your cheek. Loud. Wet. “You look so pretty. Red lipstick’s a nice touch.”

Sunghoon reaches across Jay to steal a scallop off your plate. “He’s right. You do look fuckable.” Jay slams his fork down.

“That’s enough.” The table goes quiet.

Jay’s voice is low. Dangerous. “I said one night. Just me and her. You had your turns. Back off.”

Heeseung leans forward. Elbows on the table. “We’re not here to take her. We’re here to watch you try to have her all to yourself.” His gaze flicks to you, dark, heated. “And see how long it takes before she’s begging for the rest of us.”

Jake’s fingers tighten on your neck. “C’mon, hyung. Don’t be dramatic. We can share the appetizer.”

Sunghoon smirks. “Or the main course.”

You’re throbbing under the table. The silk dress feels too tight. The wine too warm in your veins. Jay looks at you, really looks. “Are you okay with this?”

You swallow. Meet his eyes. Then glance at the others. Then back to him. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “But… maybe we skip dessert here.”

Jay exhales, half-laugh, half-snarl. “Bathroom,” he says. “Now.” He stands. Pulls you up with him. The others don’t move. They just exchange knowing glances. Jake just grins. “We’ll keep watch.”

Jay drags you through the restaurant, hand firm on your lower back, past the bar, down the narrow hallway, into the single-stall bathroom at the end.

He locks the door. Spins you around. Pushes you forward until your palms slap the sink. The mirror is huge. You watch your own reflection, lips parted, chest heaving, dress already rucked up to your hips.

Jay’s behind you, fly open, cock hard and leaking. He doesn’t speak. Just yanks your dress higher, notches himself at your entrance, and thrusts in, hard. Deep. One brutal stroke that makes you cry out.

“Quiet,” he growls against your ear. Hand clamps over your mouth. “They can hear.” He fucks you like he’s proving a point. Fast. Rough. Hips snapping. The sink rattles. Your tits bounce with every thrust. His other hand fists your hair, yanks your head back so you’re watching yourself in the mirror.

“Look at you,” he pants. “Taking it so good. Even when they crash. Even when I try to keep you to myself.”

You moan into his palm, muffled, desperate.

He reaches around. Finds your clit. Pinches. Rolls. Hard.

“Come,” he orders. “Come on my cock before they barge in.”

You do, fast, violent, clenching around him so hard he swears. He follows seconds later, burying deep, spilling hot inside you with a choked groan.

He doesn’t pull out right away. Just holds you there, chest to your back,breathing ragged. Then he kisses your shoulder. Soft. Apologetic. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Couldn’t help it.” You laugh, shaky, wrecked.

He pulls out slowly. Fixes your dress. Wipes between your thighs with paper towels from the dispenser. When you open the door, Jake’s leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed. Smirking. “Took you long enough.”

Jay glares. Jake pushes off the wall. Steps close. Kisses you, quick, filthy, tasting Jay on your tongue. “My turn to watch the door,” he says. “Go wait in the car. Round two’s on us.”

Jay takes your hand. Leads you out, past the hostess who definitely knows what just happened, into the cool night air.

The car is parked in the back lot, tinted windows, engine already running. Sunghoon’s in the driver’s seat. Heeseung in the passenger. Both turn when you climb in the back. Sunghoon’s eyes drop to the wet spot on your dress. Smiles, slow, predatory.

“Missed the show?” Heeseung reaches back. Pulls you onto his lap. “Plenty of time for round two,” he murmurs against your neck. Jay slides in beside you. Jake climbs in last, locks the doors. The engine starts. And the night? The night is far from over.

The black SUV idles in the shadowed back lot behind the restaurant, engine a low, steady rumble beneath the distant pulse of music leaking from the outdoor speakers. Tinted windows seal the interior into a private world, leather seats already radiating warmth, the air heavy with Jay’s cologne, the sharp bite of expensive whiskey on their breath, and the unmistakable, intimate musk of sex that still clings to your skin.

You’re straddling Heeseung in the center of the back seat, silk dress shoved up around your waist, thighs spread wide over his hips. His dark jeans are damp where your leaking cunt has pressed against him. Heeseung doesn’t flinch. His hands are beneath the fabric, broad palms cupping your bare ass, fingers spreading you open with deliberate care, holding you exposed and vulnerable in the dim glow filtering through the windows.

Jay sits to your left, shirt untucked, collarbones still flushed, lips swollen and red from the way he’d fucked you against the marble sink in the bathroom minutes earlier. Sunghoon occupies the right side, long legs stretched out, one hand already working the thick outline of his cock through tailored slacks, eyes fixed on the sight between your thighs. Jake has twisted around in the front passenger seat, forearm braced on the headrest, gaze dark and unblinking.

For several long seconds, no one speaks.

Only the rhythm of heavy breathing, the soft creak of leather as bodies shift, the faint metallic tick of the cooling engine. Then Heeseung’s voice, low, gravel-rough, breaks the silence against the shell of your ear.

“You’re still dripping him,” he murmurs, one hand sliding from your ass to slip between your legs from behind. Two fingers push into the slick, swollen heat of your cunt, gathering Jay’s release and pressing it back inside with slow, unhurried strokes. The wet sound is obscene in the confined space. “Can feel it leaking out. Can’t let that go to waste.”

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, inner walls fluttering, a soft, helpless whimper slipping past your lips as your hips twitch forward. Jay’s hand joins Heeseung’s without hesitation. Four fingers now, stretching you wider, scooping the thick cum deeper, curling against the front wall until your breath hitches sharply.

“He’s right,” Jay says, voice quiet but edged with something darker, more possessive. “We should keep you full. All night. Every time one of us finishes, the next one pushes it right back in.”

Sunghoon leans in closer, breath ghosting hot along the side of your neck. His voice is velvet and steel. “Full until it takes. Until you’re so thoroughly bred there’s no question who put it there.”

The words hit like a physical blow, low in your belly, sharp and electric. Your cunt clenches hard around their fingers, a fresh gush of slick coating their knuckles.

Jake’s eyes widen in the front seat. “Fuck—did you just—”

“I said,” Sunghoon repeats, slower, darker, each syllable deliberate, “full until it takes. Until this perfect little cunt is swollen and leaking and carrying exactly what we give it.”

Heeseung’s free hand slides up to cradle the front of your throat, not squeezing, simply holding, thumb resting over your racing pulse. “You like that thought, don’t you?” he asks softly, lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear. “All four of us pumping you full, one right after the other. No pulling out. No wasting a single drop. Just letting it stay deep until your body has no choice but to keep it.”

You nod, frantic, tears already gathering at the corners of your eyes because the fantasy is suddenly too vivid, too real, too close to everything your body has been silently begging for.

Jay’s fingers crook harder, pressing ruthlessly against that spot that makes your vision blur. “Use your words.” 

“I want it,” you gasp, voice cracking. “Want you to, to breed me. Fill me until I can’t take any more. Until it’s all inside me. Please—”

A chorus of low, guttural groans fills the car. Heeseung lifts you just high enough to shove his jeans and briefs down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick, flushed dark, already leaking at the tip. He doesn’t tease. He simply guides you down onto him in one long, controlled descent, stretching you open around his length until your ass meets his hips and he’s buried to the hilt.

You cry out, head falling back against his shoulder, nails digging into his forearms.

“That’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take every inch. Take every fucking drop I’m about to give you.” He begins to move, deep, rolling thrusts that grind the head of his cock against your cervix with punishing precision. Jay’s hand stays between your legs, fingers circling your clit in tight, relentless loops while Heeseung fucks up into you with measured force.

Sunghoon has already freed himself completely, long, elegant fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking slowly, eyes never leaving the place where Heeseung disappears inside you over and over. “My turn comes next,” he says, voice low and certain. “I’m going to add to it. Make sure nothing escapes.”

Jake’s hand is inside his own pants now, stroking himself in perfect time with Heeseung’s rhythm, breath coming in short, ragged pants. “Look at her,” he mutters, almost reverent. “So fucking desperate to be filled. Greedy little thing.”

Heeseung’s pace builds, hips snapping up harder, faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the car. “I’m going to come inside you,” he warns, voice strained. “Going to flood this tight cunt until it’s overflowing. You ready for it?”

“Yes—please—Heeseung—”

He buries himself as deep as possible and comes with a long, broken groan, hot, thick pulses painting your walls, filling you so completely you feel the pressure build behind your navel. Even as you clench down hard, trying to keep it all in, the excess begins to leak out around his base, coating his balls and dripping onto the leather.

He doesn’t pull out. He simply holds you there, still hard, still buried deep, while Jay shifts.

Jay moves to kneel on the seat beside you, one knee braced against the cushion. He nudges Heeseung’s softening length aside just enough to press his own cock against your already-stretched entrance. The stretch is immediate, two thick cocks forcing their way inside the same slick channel, rubbing against each other through the thin barrier of your walls. You scream, muffled against Heeseung’s shoulder, body shaking violently.

Jay fucks into you with short, brutal thrusts, the friction almost unbearable. “This pussy is going to take all of us tonight,” he growls, voice rough with possession. “Going to be so full of cum you’ll feel it moving inside you every time you breathe.”

Sunghoon reaches over, fingers finding your clit again, pinching, rolling, tugging, pushing you higher and higher while Jay pounds relentlessly.

The orgasm crashes through you without warning, sharp, blinding, walls spasming so violently around both cocks that Jay swears under his breath. His hips stutter, then slam forward one last time as he comes, hot spurts mixing with Heeseung’s release until you’re overflowing, thick rivulets running down your thighs and soaking the seat beneath you.

Sunghoon doesn’t give you time to recover.

He yanks you off both of them, strong hands manhandling you onto all fours across the wide back seat, ass presented high, face pressed into Heeseung’s lap. He lines up and drives in with one punishing thrust, burying himself to the hilt in a single motion that forces the air from your lungs.

“This cunt is getting bred tonight,” he snarls, voice low and dangerous. “I’m going to pump you so full you’ll be leaking for days. Every step you take tomorrow, you’ll feel us still inside you.”

He fucks like it’s a claiming, like he needs to imprint himself deeper than the others. One hand fists your hair, yanking your head back until your spine arches sharply. The car rocks with the force of his thrusts.

Jake climbs over the center console into the back, kneeling in front of your face. He guides his cock to your lips. You open for him immediately, taking him deep, sucking with sloppy, desperate hunger while Sunghoon rails you from behind.

Sunghoon comes with a guttural sound, hips locked flush against your ass, flooding you with another hot load until it spills out around his base and runs in sticky trails down your inner thighs.

Jake pulls free from your mouth, strokes himself twice, and spills across your lower back in thick, warm ropes, marking your skin. They rotate again, Heeseung sliding back in, then Jay, then Sunghoon, each one adding more, fucking it deeper, pushing it against your cervix with every thrust until you’re trembling, sobbing, body overwhelmed and exquisitely full.

When the final round ends, Sunghoon pulling out with a wet, filthy sound, a fresh gush of cum following, your legs give out completely. You collapse forward onto Heeseung’s chest, shaking, panting, utterly spent.

Jay reaches into the center console and withdraws a small black velvet pouch. Inside are three plugs, smooth black silicone, flared bases, graduated sizes. Heeseung selects the largest, coats it generously in the creamy mess still leaking from you, then presses the blunt tip against your swollen entrance.

“Gonna keep every drop where it belongs,” he murmurs, voice soft now, almost reverent. He works the plug in slowly, watching your face the entire time, until it pops past the rim and settles deep, the weight immediate and grounding.

Jay takes the smaller one, slicks it with the same care, and presses it gently but firmly into your ass. The dual fullness is overwhelming, possessive, complete.

Sunghoon cleans between your thighs with a packet of wipes from the glovebox, slow, careful strokes that feel almost tender after everything. Then he helps you sit up, smoothing your dress back down over your hips, fingers combing gently through your tangled hair. The car falls quiet again. They surround you, Heeseung’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, Jay’s hand resting warm and steady on your thigh, Sunghoon’s fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm, Jake leaning over the seat to press close from the front. After a long stretch of silence, Jake speaks, voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “We don’t want anyone else,” he says simply. “Not ever. Not like this.”

Jay nods once. “You’re not just something we fuck. You’re ours. Completely. For everything.”

Sunghoon’s fingertips brush the line of your jaw, tilting your face toward him. “We thought we could keep it light. Keep some distance. Pretend it didn’t matter.” He exhales, the sound almost pained. “We were wrong.”

Heeseung’s hold tightens, lips brushing your temple. “No one else touches you. No one else fills you. No one else gets to love you the way we do.” The word, love,lands soft and heavy, undeniable. You turn your face into the warm curve of Heeseung’s neck, feel the first tear slip free, not from pain, not from overwhelm, but from the sudden, terrifying certainty that this is exactly where you want to be.

“I don’t want anyone else either,” you whisper against his skin. They exhale as one, like they’ve been waiting weeks to hear it. Jake leans farther over the seat, presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good.” Jay draws you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin.

Sunghoon drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, still warm from his body, carrying his scent. Heeseung climbs over the console, settling in the driver’s seat, he glances up at you through the rear view mirror, starts the engine, and pulls out of the lot with careful precision. The drive home is quiet. The plugs shift inside you with every turn, constant, heavy reminders. Their hands stay on you, gentle now, grounding.

When you reach the apartment they carry you inside, Heeseung’s arms strong and sure, straight to the largest bed. They undress you slowly, silk peeled away, heels slipped off, every movement careful and deliberate. They clean you again, warm washcloths, soft touches that linger.

Then they slide into bed around you, skin on skin, bodies fitting together like they were made for it. Heeseung at your front, chest pressed to yours, one leg thrown possessively over your hip. Jay at your back, arm wrapped securely around your waist, lips brushing your shoulder. Sunghoon curled lower, head resting on your thigh, long fingers tracing soothing circles. Jake pressed to your side, fingers laced tightly with yours.

No words. Just the slow, even rhythm of their breathing syncing with yours. Until the plugs feel less like possession and more like quiet promise. Until sleep finally claims you, safe, full, irrevocably claimed. Your dreams aren’t about running. They’re about staying.

perm taglist:

No photos. No bullet points about ‘respectful boundaries’ or ‘shared Netflix password.’ Just that blunt, cocky little block of text, like they knew exactly what kind of person would bite anyway. The rent figure was unreal, half what you'd been paying for your shoebox studio that smelled faintly of regret and yesterday's takeout. You stared at it for a full minute, thumb hovering over your phone screen, heart doing that stupid flutter thing it does when you're about to make a decision that's either genius or catastrophic.  

And then there was the line written in red pen, scrawled untidily, looking like a disastrous attempt at cursive.

“She better be hot lol”

Crossed out once, aggressively. Then underlined twice, like whoever wrote it had second thoughts about the shame and decided to recommit. You stared at that part the longest.

Your current apartment smelled like damp carpet and stale air no matter how many candles you burned. The windows rattled every time the train passed. Your landlord had the audacity to send out a mass email about a “maintenance fee adjustment” that was definitely just code for I bought a new car and you’re helping pay for it.

Rent had started to feel like a chokehold. And this, four guys, one girl, big downtown apartment, utilities split five ways, was a stupidly good number. Too good. Which should have been your first red flag. 

Your reflection in the lobby mirror looked tired. A little reckless. The kind of girl who was one bad decision away from either ruining her life or improving it dramatically. You took a picture of the flyer. You hesitated.

You zoomed in on the red scribble. You told yourself you were an adult. That you could handle four random men in a shared space. That this was just housing, not a horror movie opening scene.  Then you texted the number before your common sense could wrestle your thumbs away.

You: Hi, saw the flyer for the roommate spot. Still available? Interested if the details match up. What's the move-in date?

The three dots appeared almost instantly. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. Your stomach did that awful, fluttery dip it does before you step into something you can’t undo.

Unknown: yeah it's open. u got a name sweetheart?

Sweetheart. You actually rolled your eyes. You told yourself you rolled your eyes. But something warm slid low in your stomach anyway. Casual ownership. Teasing. A test.

You: Y/N. And yeah, I do. When can I come see it?

The typing bubbles came back. Stayed. Disappeared. Came back again. Then your phone vibrated with a voice note instead of text. You stared at it for a full second.

Who the fuck sends voice notes to strangers?

You slipped in one earbud like you were about to overhear something you weren’t meant to. You hit play. Chaos. Not the polite kind. Not the muffled, distant kind. The kind that sounds like bodies moving and furniture scraping and too many voices in one space.

“—told you the flyer was too obvious, dumbass—”

“Shut the fuck up, she texted, didn’t she?”

“Bet she’s mid. Fifty says she’s mid.”

“Fifty says she’s a freak who’ll cry after one night.”

Explosive laughter. Low and rough and layered. Someone swore. There was a thud like someone got shoved into a couch. Another voice yelling, “Give me the phone—”

Your pulse was in your throat. It felt intrusive. Intimate. Like you were already inside their space, hearing something raw and unfiltered. Then the chaos snapped. Cut clean. A different presence took over. Closer to the mic. Lower.

“...Y/N, right?” Your name sounded slower in his mouth. Like he’d rolled it around once before saying it.

“This is Heeseung.”

The way he said it wasn’t introduction. It was declaration. The background noise dimmed, not because the room got quieter, but because he stepped away from it. You could picture it without trying: him turning his back to the others, leaning against something, one hand braced on a counter, phone lifted close enough that his breath ghosted the mic.

The kind of voice that didn’t rush. The kind that didn’t need to. “Place is still open. Come by tomorrow. 7 p.m. sharp. We’ll be here.”

We’ll be here. Not I’ll be here. A collective. A warning. There was a beat of silence. Not awkward. Deliberate. “Bring your shit if you like what you see. We don’t do second viewings.”

And then it ended. No goodbye. No emoji. No softening. Just the click of the recording stopping, leaving his voice hanging in your ear like smoke in a closed room. You sat on your sagging futon with the cheap springs poking through the cushion and replayed it. Twice.

The arguing in the background. The laughter. The careless comments. The way he had cut through all of it like a knife sliding into silk. You told yourself they sounded like idiots. You told yourself this was exactly the kind of environment you’d sworn you’d never put yourself in. But your thighs pressed together anyway, tension curling low and restless, not quite fear and not quite excitement.

You imagined the apartment. Exposed brick. Too much space. Music playing too loud. A kitchen that actually had room to breathe in. Four men who moved through it like they owned it. And one empty room.

Waiting. You should have blocked the number. Should have deleted the thread. Should have found a nice, quiet girls-only share in the suburbs where the biggest drama would be someone stealing your almond milk. Instead, you typed back.

You: 7 p.m. tomorrow. Address?

The reply came faster this time.

Heeseung: [pinned location]Don’t be late, sweetheart. We hate waiting.

You read that last line more than once. We hate waiting. It sounded less like a preference and more like a rule. You packed that night with a strange kind of calm. One duffel bag. Just enough clothes to rotate for a few days. Toiletries. Charger. The essentials. You folded each item slowly, like you were preparing for something bigger than just a new address.

Your studio looked even smaller with your things missing. The walls felt closer. The air heavier. You stood in the middle of it and imagined tomorrow. The elevator ride up. The door opening. Four sets of eyes. The apartment smelling like expensive cologne and something darker. Smoke, maybe. Leather. Ego.

You imagined him. Them. All four of them. Either unfairly good-looking men who were complete assholes, or unimpressive men who were still complete assholes. The asshole part was a constant. The hotness was the only variable.

Not that it mattered. Of course it didn’t.

You didn’t know his face, but you knew the voice. Low. Steady. Amused. The kind of voice that didn’t rush for anyone.

You imagined the smirk you’d heard through the speaker, lazy, confident, practiced. Probably rich, too. Not new-money loud, but old-money careless. Daddy’s money had a look. It looked like never checking price tags.

You zipped the duffel closed. This was reckless. Stupid, even. The kind of decision that looked sensible only from far away, like a bruise that passed for lavender in low light. Rent had been pressing in for months, a dull gray weight at the base of your skull, constant as weather. You told yourself that was all this was. Survival. Logistics. Math.

But that wasn’t the whole truth. There was something about his voice. Not the depth of it, not even the amusement. It was the contrast, the velvet laid carefully over something serrated. Chaos humming behind glass. Control presented like a gift.

It had sounded dark blue through the speaker. Not navy. Not midnight. Something electric and expensive. The kind of blue that didn’t apologize for swallowing light. You should have been afraid of it.

Maybe you were. But the risk didn’t feel like falling. Falling was abrupt. Colorless. Final. This felt different. It felt like stepping across the gold line in a painting, the one the artist never meant anyone to cross. Like touching wet paint just to see if it would stain. Like walking into a story that had already decided what to do with you.

7 p.m. Sharp. You arrive at 6:58 p.m.

Not because you’re punctual by nature, but because something about Don’t be late. We hate waiting. lodged under your skin and stayed there all day.

The building is taller than you expected. Glass-fronted. Industrial. The kind of place that tries to look effortless and ends up looking expensive instead. The lobby smells faintly of artificially scented cleaner, probably lemon, and polished concrete. Exposed brick climbs one wall in a deliberate, curated way that says urban charm instead of structural compromise.

You stand in front of the elevator with your duffel bag hooked over one shoulder and a medium-sized suitcase at your side. You told yourself you’d bring only what you needed for a week.

You lied.

The elevator doors slide open with a soft metallic sigh. You step inside. Your reflection in the mirrored walls looks smaller than you feel. Lip gloss reapplied in the car. Hair brushed back into place. A quiet, deliberate choice in your outfit, effortless enough to pretend you didn’t try, fitted enough to know you did.

The numbers climb. Your pulse climbs with them. You tell yourself this is housing. Just housing. Four men sharing rent in a five-bedroom apartment isn’t unheard of. This isn’t a cult. This isn’t a frat house. This isn’t—

The elevator dings. The doors part. And the first thing you hear is laughter. It spills into the hallway like it lives there. Low, overlapping, careless. The door to their unit is already open. You don’t knock. You step inside.

The apartment is bigger than the pictures could’ve shown. High ceilings with steel beams running across them. Floor-to-ceiling windows pouring in late afternoon light that turns everything gold. A massive sectional couch in charcoal gray dominates the living space. There’s a long dining table made of reclaimed wood, scuffed in places that look intentional.

Music hums low from somewhere, bass-heavy, lazy. And then, you see them. All four of them. Shirtless. You stop walking. They’re scattered across the living area in a way that suggests they were doing something physical, lifting, maybe, but not something that required shirts. One is crouched by a stack of flattened cardboard boxes. Another leans against the kitchen island with a bottle of water tipped to his lips. Someone else stands near the couch, forearms flexed as he adjusts the hem of his joggers.

They notice you at the same time. Conversation dies. It’s not dramatic. Not loud. It just… stops. Four pairs of eyes land on you. And stay there. You feel it before you process it. The weight of being looked at. Not glanced. Not politely assessed. Looked at. Slowly. Thoroughly. Like you’re an answer to a question they’ve already been debating.

The one by the kitchen island lowers his bottle first. He’s tall. Lean muscle, not bulky. Collarbone sharp under the light. Damp hair pushed back from his forehead like he’s just showered or run a hand through it too many times. His gaze drags over you without apology. From your shoes. Up your legs.

To your waist. Your chest. Your mouth. Your eyes. He doesn’t look away when you meet his stare. That has to be Heeseung. The voice fits.

“Y/N.”

It isn’t a question. Your name sounds different in the open air of the apartment. Deeper. Warmer. More tangible. “Yeah.” Your voice comes out steady, which surprises you.

He pushes off the island and walks toward you. The other three follow slower, not crowding but not retreating either. You become aware of everything at once. The quiet click of your suitcase wheels settling. The way your fingers tighten around the strap of your duffel. The faint sheen of sweat along their collarbones.

They must’ve been moving furniture. Or maybe they just wanted an excuse to be shirtless when you arrived. The thought hits you uninvited. And then,  you realize you’re staring, too. One of them, broader shoulders, dark hair falling into his eyes, lets out a low whistle.

“Not mid,” he mutters.

The guy beside him elbows his ribs. A cocky grin already spreading over his lips nonetheless before he disrupts it by caging his lower lip between his teeth. “Shut up.” Heat crawls up your neck.

Heeseung stops about three feet in front of you. Close enough that you can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw. Close enough to smell something clean and subtle, soap, maybe, or skin warmed by movement. He tilts his head slightly.

“You’re on time.”

“I said I would be.”

A corner of his mouth lifts. Behind him, one of the others steps forward and grabs your suitcase handle before you can protest. “We’ll take that.”

It’s said casually, but there’s something about the way he says we again that makes your stomach dip. The fourth one finally speaks. “You bring everything?”

“Just enough to survive a week,” you reply.

He laughs. “Smart.” They move around you with unsettling ease. Not touching you. Not yet. But close enough that the air shifts when they pass. You step fully into the apartment as your suitcase is rolled toward the hallway. The door shuts behind you with a quiet click that feels louder than it should. You turn slowly, taking in the space.

The kitchen is massive, marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, open shelving that somehow looks organized despite the presence of four men. There are plants near the windows. A guitar propped casually against the wall.

This isn’t a mess. It isn’t chaotic. It’s lived-in. Comfortable. Dangerously comfortable. “Room’s down the hall,” Heeseung says. “Last one on the right.”

You nod, but you don’t move yet. Because they’re still looking at you. Not in a way that feels crude. But undeniably… interested. Assessing. One of them, taller than the rest, sharper features, leans back against the wall and crosses his arms. His eyes crinkle,  “So,” he says slowly. “You cool living with guys?” The question isn’t innocent. You lift your chin slightly.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

His gaze flickers, approval, maybe. The broad-shouldered one smirks.

“You get easily offended?”

“No.”

“You snore?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Got a boyfriend?”

The question lands differently. You glance at Heeseung. He hasn’t spoken. He’s watching you. Waiting. You meet his eyes and answer evenly, “No.”

The silence that follows is subtle, but it shifts something. Like a door quietly unlocking. Heeseung gestures down the hall. “Come see your room.”

You follow. The hallway is lined with closed doors. Music grows fainter as you move away from the main space. Your suitcase wheels roll softly against polished concrete. He opens the last door and steps aside to let you in first. The room is bigger than you expected.

Large window. Soft gray walls. A queen-sized bed frame already assembled. A desk near the corner. Closet doors sliding open to reveal empty hangers. It doesn’t feel like someone just left it. It feels like it was waiting.

You step inside. He follows. The others hover at the doorway, leaning casually against the frame like they’re watching a show. “Well?” one of them asks. You set your duffel down on the bed.

“It’s… really nice.” Heeseung walks to the window and pulls the curtain slightly, letting more light in.

“Told you. No bullshit.” He turns to face you fully. There’s something different now that you’re in a smaller space. More contained. More charged. You can feel the other three just outside the room. Listening. You cross your arms loosely.

“What’s the actual catch?”

One of the guys snorts from the hallway. Heeseung’s lips twitch. “No catch.”

“Four guys, one girl, cheap rent, no second viewings. There’s always a catch.”

He steps closer. Not enough to trap you. Just enough to make you aware of proximity. “We don’t like flakes,” he says quietly. “We don’t like drama. We don’t like people who pretend they’re chill and then aren’t.”

“And if I’m not?”

“Then you won’t last.”

The words aren’t cruel. They’re factual. You swallow. “Is that a threat?”

His gaze drops briefly to your mouth. Then back up. “It’s information.”

The other three laugh softly behind him. “You scared?” someone calls.

You step closer instead of back. “No.” And that’s the truth. You’re not scared. You’re wired. There’s a difference. He studies you for a long second. Then nods once.

“Good.” He steps back, creating space again. “You can move in tonight if you want.” Your heartbeat stutters.

“That was the deal.” One of them pushes off the doorframe. “Guess we’ve got a new roommate.” The broad-shouldered one grins. “Welcome to the madhouse.”

They disperse slightly after that. Not fully. But enough to let you breathe. You kneel on the bed to unzip your duffel, aware of eyes tracking the movement. A shirt comes out. Toiletry bag. A pair of heels you probably won’t need but packed anyway.

From the hallway, a voice says quietly, “She’s staying.”

“Obviously,” another replies.

You pretend not to hear. But your skin hums. Because beneath the jokes. Beneath the cocky questions. There’s something else. A tension that hasn’t snapped yet. An understanding that this isn’t just about splitting rent. You don’t know the rules. You don’t know the lines. But you feel them. Drawn. Invisible. Waiting. You stand and smooth your hands down your sides.

“I’ll bring the rest tomorrow.” Heeseung leans against the wall now, arms crossed. “Take your time.”

Your gaze locks again. The eye contact lingers too long to be accidental. Too steady to be polite. It’s not crude. It’s not rushed. It’s slow. Deliberate. Like he’s memorizing you.

And maybe, you’re memorizing him, too.

Friday night settles in outside the window, the sky deepening from gold to blue. You came here for cheap rent. For square footage. For practical reasons. But as the music in the living room turns louder and someone calls your name like you’ve always belonged here, you realize something quietly, dangerously simple. This wasn’t just a listing.

It was an invitation. And you accepted it. The kitchen island becomes your first battlefield.

Someone, Jay, you learn later, has already spread out a chaotic spread of takeout: greasy fried chicken in red-and-white buckets, japchae tangled in sesame oil, bulging containers of tteokbokki still steaming, a few lonely mandu that look like they've been fought over. Plastic forks and chopsticks clatter. No plates. No pretense of civility.

You slide onto one of the high stools, thighs sticking slightly to the leather from the heat still clinging to your skin after the move. Your thin white tank clings in all the wrong-right places, damp from nerves and the apartment's lazy, cold thermostat. No bra underneath because you'd changed into "comfy" clothes after unpacking the bare minimum. Big mistake.

Or the best one you've made all week. They circle like sharks who've already scented blood. Heeseung claims the stool right beside you without asking. His bare knee knocks yours under the island the second you settle. He doesn't move it. Neither do you. Jay drops onto the one across from you, broad shoulders taking up too much real estate. He leans forward on his elbows, forearms corded, watching you like you're the next thing on the menu.

Jake sprawls next to him, legs spread wide under the counter, one foot hooking casually around your ankle like it's always belonged there. He grins, pretty, boyish, filthy.

Sunghoon perches at the end like a king on his throne, long legs stretched out, one hand already tearing into a chicken wing. He licks sauce off his thumb slowly, eyes never leaving the front of your tank.

"Alright," Heeseung says, voice low and amused as he pops open a beer and slides one toward you without asking if you drink. "Introductions, since you're staying."

He drags a knuckle down your bare arm, slow, deliberate, like he's testing how soft you are. Goosebumps erupt instantly. "I'm Heeseung." His fingers linger at your wrist, thumb pressing your pulse point. "You already knew that." You nod, throat dry. Take a sip of the beer. It's cold. Sharp. Does nothing to cool the heat pooling between your legs.

Jay jerks his chin up. "Park Jongseong. Jay." He reaches across the island, grabs a piece of tteokbokki with his fingers, holds it out to you. "Open." You hesitate half a second. He raises one brow. "Don't make me feed you like a baby, sweetheart."

Your lips part. He pushes the sticky rice cake inside, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he pulls back. Sauce smears. He doesn't wipe it off. Just watches it glisten there.

"Jake Sim," the one with the foot around your ankle says. He leans in, elbow on the counter, chin in hand. His gaze drops blatantly to your chest. Your nipples have pebbled hard against the thin cotton, traitorous little peaks begging for attention. He bites his lip, lets out a soft, appreciative hum. "Fuck, you're not wearing a bra. Bold move, roomie."

Heat floods your face. Also lower. Sunghoon doesn't bother with words at first. He just stares, cold, assessing, predatory. Then he speaks, voice velvet and mean.

"Park Sunghoon." He drags a fry through sauce, offers it to you the same way Jay did. When you lean forward to take it, he pulls it back at the last second, makes you chase. You feel ridiculous. Wet. "Good girl." The praise lands like a slap. Your thighs clench.

Heeseung chuckles low beside you. His hand finds your knee under the island, big, warm, possessive. Slides up your inner thigh slow enough that you could stop him. You don't. His fingers stop just shy of where your shorts end, thumb stroking the crease where thigh meets hip. Back and forth. Lazy. Teasing the edge of your underwear.

"So," Jay says around a mouthful of chicken, eyes locked on the outline of your nipples like they're speaking to him personally. "What's your deal, Y/N? You always this easy to read?"

Jake snorts. Leans closer. "Bet she's already soaked just from us looking."

"Shut up," you mutter, but it comes out breathy. Weak.

Heeseung's thumb presses harder. "She is," he says quietly, like it's a fact he's confirming for the group. His other hand reaches up, casual, like he's reaching for more food, and brushes the side of your breast through the tank. The pad of his thumb grazes your nipple. Circles once. 

You gasp. Small. Involuntary. Sunghoon smirks. "Told you. Instant slut for attention." Jay exchanges a look with Jake, dirty, conspiratorial. They both laugh under their breath.

"Pass her the spicy one," Jake says. "See if she cries."

Heeseung finally pulls his hand from between your legs, only to slide it around your waist instead. Tugs you closer until your side is flush against his bare chest. Skin on skin. Heat on heat. "Eat," he murmurs against your ear. Breath hot. "You're gonna need the energy."

You pick up a piece of chicken with shaking fingers. They watch every bite like it's porn. Sunghoon leans forward. "Question." You meet his eyes. Dark. Unblinking.

"You gonna pretend you're not dripping for us all night, or can we skip the bullshit and get to the part where you spread on the counter?"

Your chopsticks freeze halfway to your mouth. Jake groans softly. "Hyung—"

"What?" Sunghoon shrugs. "We're all thinking it. She's sitting here with her tits out, clit probably throbbing, acting like she didn't come here to get fucked stupid by four guys who don't even know her last name."

Heeseung's hand slides higher again, this time under your tank. Palm flat against your bare stomach. Fingers splay wide. Claiming territory. Jay licks sauce off his lips. Slow. "Rent-free, remember? That pussy's been ours since you texted back."

Jake's foot slides higher up your calf. "Bet she clenches just hearing that." You do. They know. Heeseung's thumb finds your nipple again, pinches lightly through the fabric. Rolls it.

"Finish eating," he says, voice deceptively gentle. "Then we're gonna show you how we collect rent around here."

The words are disgusting. The way your body responds is worse. You swallow hard. Sauce still sticky on your lip. They wait. Patient. Filthy. Certain. Because they already know, you're not leaving this island until every inch of you is marked.

And the food? It's barely started getting cold. The takeout disappears faster than it should, mostly because your mouth is never empty for long.

Jay keeps tearing off pieces of chicken, dipping them in sauce, holding them to your lips like it's his personal mission to keep you full. His fingers linger every time, brushing your tongue, smearing gloss and grease across your chin until you're sticky and flushed. "Good girl," he murmurs once, low enough that only you hear it, but loud enough that the others smirk.

Heeseung never stops touching. His hand starts at your knee again, then climbs, slow, shameless, until it's high on your inner thigh, thumb tracing lazy circles over the damp cotton of your shorts. When you shift, trying to close your legs, he just spreads them wider with his knee. Casual. Like adjusting furniture. His other hand stays under your tank, palm flat against your stomach, fingers occasionally drifting up to pluck at your nipples like he's testing how hard they can get before you whimper.

They do get hard. Painfully so. The thin fabric does nothing to hide it.

Sunghoon leans back, legs spread, one hand lazily palming himself through his sweats while he watches. "Bet she's clenching every time Jay feeds her," he says, voice dripping. "Like a little hungry bird. Open wide, princess, here comes the next load."

Jake laughs, soft and filthy, leaning so close his breath fans your ear. "You're so fucking cute when you're pretending not to like it, baby. Look at you, your body is begging, thighs shaking. You gonna come just from us looking at you like the slut you are?" He drags his tongue along the shell of your ear. "Say 'please' and maybe we'll let you grind on the stool till you soak it."

You don't say please.

You just swallow another bite Jay pushes past your lips, choke a little when Heeseung's fingers slip under the leg of your shorts and graze the edge of your folds, wet, swollen, traitorous. They all hear the tiny, broken sound you make.

Sunghoon groans. "Fuck. That's the sound I wanna hear when she's choking on my dick later."

Dinner ends like that, messy, humiliating, electric.

When the last container is shoved aside, you mumble something about needing to unpack. Your voice is wrecked. Legs unsteady as you slide off the stool.

Heeseung's hand finally leaves your body, but not before he gives your ass a firm, possessive squeeze. "Go on, sweetheart. Get settled."

Their laughter follows you down the hallway, low, overlapping, knowing. "She's dripping down her thighs, I can smell it from here."

"Bet she locks the door and fingers herself thinking about us."

"Door stays unlocked from now on. House rule."

You shut yourself in the bedroom anyway. Heart hammering. Cheeks burning. Cunt throbbing so hard it hurts. You tell yourself you're just going to unpack. You don't.

The apartment feels smaller now, the air thicker, like the walls themselves are breathing. You’re still sprawled on the edge of the mattress, knees wide, thin cotton shorts shoved down just far enough that the waistband bites into the tops of your thighs. Your tank top has ridden up under your breasts, nipples stiff and visible through the damp fabric. Two fingers are buried inside you, knuckle-deep, curling, pumping, while your thumb mashes frantic, messy circles over your swollen clit. Every stroke pulls a slick, obscene sound from between your legs. You can’t stop. You don’t want to stop.

The apartment is quiet for maybe ten minutes. Then you hear it. From the living room, muffled at first, then unmistakable. Low grunts. Wet, rhythmic sounds. Skin on skin. "New roommate's pussy looked so fucking tight," Jake's voice, breathy. "Bet she'd cry if I went in raw."

Jay, rougher: "I'd make her ride me reverse so I could watch that ass bounce while Heeseung fucks her throat."

Sunghoon, colder, meaner: "I'm breaking that little cunt open first. Gonna make her squirt all over the couch before the night's over."

Heeseung's voice cuts through, low, controlled, dangerous. "We're breaking her in slow. Let her think she has control for a day or two. Then we take turns stretching her till she forgets her own name."

More groans. Faster strokes. Someone swears. Someone moans your name, your actual fucking name, like it's already theirs. Your cunt clenches hard around your fingers at the memory. A fresh gush of wetness coats your palm. You’re dripping onto the sheet now, dark spot spreading beneath your ass. You try to muffle the next whimper by biting the inside of your cheek, but it still leaks out, high and broken.

You come hard. Silent at first, then a choked whimper slips out when your fingers push inside, chasing the aftershocks. Your thighs shake. The bed creaks. The apartment has been dead silent for thirty seconds.

Then, floorboards creak. Not fast. Not rushed. Slow. Measured. One deliberate step after another. Your heart slams against your ribs so violently you’re sure they can hear it through the thin walls. You freeze, fingers still stuffed inside you, walls fluttering helplessly around them. You don’t dare pull them out. Don’t dare move. Every nerve feels peeled open, raw, screaming.

The footsteps stop right outside your door. You hold your breath. The knob turns. No knock. No warning. The door swings inward on silent hinges. Heeseung fills the frame.

No shirt. Sweatpants slung obscenely low, the thick ridge of his cock still half-hard and outlined against the gray cotton like it’s trying to tear through. A faint sheen of sweat glistens along his collarbones, down the cut of his abs. His hair is wrecked, fingers-raked, damp at the temples. His eyes are black, pupils blown, and the corner of his mouth curls in something that isn’t quite a smile. It’s possession wearing amusement like a mask.

He doesn’t step inside. Not yet. He just leans one bare shoulder against the doorframe, arms loosely crossed, and lets his gaze drag over you, slow, deliberate, filthy. From the way your thighs tremble, to the hand still buried in your shorts, to the wet spot darkening the sheet, to your bitten-raw lip and glassy eyes.

“Caught you,” he murmurs. Voice so low it vibrates in your chest. Your fingers twitch involuntarily inside yourself. A tiny, helpless pump. You can’t help it. His voice alone is enough to make your cunt spasm. He notices. Of course he notices. His head tilts. “You didn’t even lock the door, baby.”

The endearment lands like a slap and a caress at once. Your mouth opens, maybe to deny, maybe to beg, maybe just to breathe, but nothing comes out except a shaky exhale.

He takes one step forward. The floor creaks under his weight. Another step. Your pulse is in your throat, your clit, your fingertips. You’re so wet it’s obscene, every tiny shift of your hips makes a slick sound you’re sure he can hear.

He stops at the foot of the bed. Close enough that you can smell him, clean sweat, faint cologne, the dark musk of arousal still clinging to his skin from whatever they were doing out there.

“Look at you,” he says softly. Almost tender. “Legs spread like you were waiting for an audience. Fingers stuffed in that greedy little hole while you listened to us talk about ruining you.” His eyes flick to where your hand disappears into your shorts. “Did you come thinking about Sunghoon splitting you open? Or Jay making you bounce on his cock while I fucked your throat raw?”

You make a sound, half sob, half moan. Your hips jerk up without permission, chasing your own fingers. Heeseung’s gaze darkens. “Don’t stop.”

Your breath hitches. “Keep fucking yourself,” he orders, voice dropping into something darker, quieter, more dangerous. “Let me watch how desperate you got listening to us plan all the ways we’re gonna break you.”

Your fingers move before your brain catches up, slow at first, then faster, wetter, louder. The heel of your palm grinds against your clit with every thrust. Your other hand claws at the sheet. Your thighs shake so hard the bed frame rattles. Heeseung doesn’t touch you. He just watches.

Eyes heavy-lidded. Breathing slow and controlled while yours comes in ragged little pants. The outline of his cock has thickened again, straining harder against the sweats. A dark spot blooms at the tip. "You were moaning our names," he says, tilting his head. "Heard you clear as day."

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out. He walks closer. Stops at the edge of the bed. Looks down at you, spread, flushed, fingers still glistening.

"First rule of the house," he says, voice velvet and final. He reaches down, grips your chin, tilts your face up so you have to meet his eyes. "If we hear you moaning our names, if you touch that pretty pussy thinking about us, you don't get to come alone anymore."

His thumb drags across your bottom lip, collecting the spit and gloss there. "You finish with one of us inside you. Or on you. Or watching. Your choice."

He leans in until his mouth is a breath from yours. "But tonight?" He smirks, slow, filthy, victorious. "Tonight you go to sleep wet and aching. No more touching. That's rule two."

He straightens. Steps back. "Get some rest, sweetheart."

He turns for the door. Pauses. Looks over his shoulder. "And tomorrow?" His smile is all teeth. "Rent's due."

The door clicks shut behind him. You lie back on the bed, heart slamming, thighs slick, body screaming. You don't touch yourself again. Not because you don't want to. But because you know, he's right outside. And they're all waiting for the next time you break.

Your gasp rips through the dim bedroom like a blade, but it’s not fear that claws up your throat, it’s the raw, electric shock of Jake’s iron grip clamping around your upper arm, yanking you upright so violently the mattress squeaks in protest. Your eyes fly open to the sight of his wicked grin, teeth flashing white in the pale morning light filtering through half-drawn blinds. The sheets are torn away in one savage sweep, cool air slamming against your overheated skin like a slap. Your thin tank top is already bunched uselessly under your tits, the fabric twisted tight around your ribs, while your tiny sleep shorts have ridden so high they barely cover the swell of your ass cheeks, the crotch seam digging intently into your folds.

“Morning, roomie,” Jake purrs, voice dripping with mock sweetness and pure venom. He drags you out of bed like a ragdoll, your bare feet scrambling for purchase on the icy concrete floor, toes curling against the chill. His free hand instantly mauls your left tit, thick fingers sinking deep into the soft, heavy flesh, squeezing so hard your nipple hardens between his knuckles like a ripe berry. His thumb flicks it once, twice, three times, fast and brutal, like he’s punishing a disobedient little button. Pain blooms hot and sharp, shooting straight to your clit, and you hiss through clenched teeth, back arching involuntarily, pushing your chest further into his greedy palm.

He laughs, low, filthy, delighted, and crashes his mouth against your cheek in a wet, sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. The flat of his tongue drags slow and deliberate across your flushed skin, leaving a thick trail of spit that cools instantly. He pulls back with a loud smack, lips shiny, eyes glittering with mischief.

“Breakfast’s waiting, princess. And you’re the main fucking course.”

He hauls you down the hallway, your legs stumbling, tits bouncing freely under the ruined tank, shorts still tangled around one thigh. The living room hits you like a fever dream: thick with the scent of fresh-brewed coffee, printer ink, and the unmistakable musk of four horny men who’ve already been stroking themselves thinking about this exact moment. Jay’s lounging like a king on the massive sectional sofa, legs spread wide in nothing but gray sweats that do nothing to hide the monstrous bulge tenting the fabric, one arm slung lazily over the backrest, the other lazily palming his cock through the material. He doesn’t even stand. Just crooks two fingers at you, slow and commanding, a lazy smirk playing on his full lips.

Jake shoves you forward hard. You stumble straight into Jay’s waiting hands, rough, calloused palms gripping your hips like vices, and he yanks you down onto his lap in one fluid, possessive motion. Your bare ass cheeks land flush against the scorching heat of his massive morning wood, the thick ridge of it nestling perfectly between your cheeks through the thin sweats. He groans deep in his chest and rocks up once, grinding his fat cock against you so you feel every throbbing inch, every vein, the blunt head nudging right against your folds like a promise.

“Sit pretty for me, slut,” Jay growls hot against the shell of your ear, breath smelling like mint and sin. One thick arm snakes around your waist, locking you down like a seatbelt made of steel. His other hand shoves up under your tank top, claiming your right tit fully, squeezing, kneading, rolling the nipple between rough fingers until it’s swollen and aching. You squirm helplessly, already leaking slick down your thighs, but he just chuckles darkly and pinches harder. “That’s it. Feel how hard you make me first thing in the goddamn morning?”

Heeseung leans against the kitchen island like a statue carved from ice and hunger, arms crossed over his broad chest, black tank stretched tight across his muscles, sweatpants slung low enough to show the deep V of his hips. His dark eyes drink you in with that calm, terrifying amusement, lips curled in the barest smirk. Sunghoon’s perched on the arm of the couch like a predator in repose, long legs dangling, one hand already shoved inside his boxers, slowly fisting his long, pretty cock, tip flushed angry red, leaking precum in shiny beads that he smears down the shaft with lazy twists.

A single crisp sheet of paper is taped to the stainless-steel fridge, bold black Arial bullet points screaming authority.

Roommate Rules.

Jake claps once, sharp and theatrical, the sound cracking through the room like a whip. “New roommate orientation, baby! Time to learn the house rules. Stand up, oh wait.” He grins viciously as Jay’s arm tightens, keeping you impaled on his lap, grinding slow circles so the ridge of his cock drags deliciously against your dripping cunt. “Never mind. Stay right there.”

Jay doesn’t let you move an inch. Jake rips the paper free and slaps it into your trembling hands. “Read it. Out. Loud. Every word.”

Heeseung’s voice cuts through like velvet over steel. “And don’t you dare stop.”

Your fingers shake so badly the paper rattles. Jay’s free hand dives straight down, past the waistband of your shorts, two thick fingers spearing into your soaked cunt without mercy, no teasing, no warmup. They curl viciously against your G-spot instantly, pumping in and out with wet, filthy squelching sounds that echo obscenely. Your walls clamp down greedily, sucking him deeper, and you choke on the first syllable.

“R-Rule… one…” Your voice cracks into a broken moan as Jay adds a third finger on the next thrust, stretching you wide, scissoring brutally. “N-No panties… in the apartment… after 8 p.m. Fuck—ahh!”

Sunghoon hums low, shoving his boxers down to his thighs, his long cock springing free, veiny, curved slightly, glistening as he strokes faster, thumb swiping over the leaking slit. “Louder, whore. Let us hear how wet that rule makes you.”

Jake drops to his knees between your spread thighs like he’s worshipping at an altar. He rips your shorts down your legs in one violent yank, tossing them across the room, leaving you completely bare from the waist down on Jay’s lap, pussy lips puffy and shining, clit throbbing visibly. He spreads your thighs wider with both hands, thumbs digging into soft flesh, and leans in. His tongue, hot, flat, and obscene, drags from your dripping hole all the way up to your swollen clit in one long, sloppy stripe. He sucks your clit into his mouth like it’s candy, tongue flicking rapid-fire while Jay’s fingers keep moving.

“Rule two,” you sob, hips jerking wildly, trying to ride both sensations at once. “You… sit on someone’s lap… during movie nights, oh god, Jake, please—ahh!”

Jake pulls back just enough to spit a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit, watching it drip down to mix with your juices coating Jay’s knuckles. “Good fucking girl. Keep reading while I eat this sloppy cunt like breakfast.”

Your voice is pure wreckage now, high, breathy, broken. “Rule three… Whoever cooks… the others get to fuck you… on the counter… while dinner’s in the oven, fuck, I’m gonna—”

Jay slams his fingers deeper, adding a fourth, stretching you to the burning limit. Your pussy gushes around him, slick squirting out in messy pulses that soak his sweats and the couch beneath you. The wet sounds are pornographic, schlick-schlick-schlick, loud enough to drown out your whimpers.

Heeseung is stroking himself now, thick, heavy, perfectly shaped, veins pulsing as he strokes slow and controlled, eyes locked on your face like he’s memorizing every twitch of humiliation and pleasure. “Almost there, sweetheart. Finish it. Then we give you the welcome gift you’ve been dripping for since you moved in.”

Jake stands, shoving his shorts down. His cock slaps heavy against his abs, thick, girthy, the head red and angry, already drooling precum in long strings. He strokes himself right in front of your face, the wet sound of his fist mixing with Jay’s fingers destroying your cunt. The tip keeps brushing your cheek, smearing precum across your skin like war paint.

You force the last words out between guttural moans, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaking your face. “First… official use… read the rules out loud… while being used—nnngh! And… and it ends with all four… cumming on your face… and tits… as welcome gift, please, I can’t—!”

Silence crashes down for half a second, only the obscene sounds of fingers plunging into soaked pussy and four men stroking their cocks. Then Jay rips his fingers out with a wet pop. You whine pathetically at the sudden emptiness, pussy clenching around nothing, a gush of your own slick dripping down your thighs onto the carpet.

Heeseung steps forward first, voice calm as death. “On your knees, cumdump.” Jay lifts you like you weigh nothing, strong arms tossing you onto the floor between them. The rough carpet bites into your knees as you kneel, back straight, tits heaving, cunt visibly throbbing and empty. They circle you like wolves, four towering, muscular bodies, cocks hard and leaking, surrounding you in a filthy halo of dominance.

Heeseung speaks, low and final. “Welcome to the house, sweetheart. Open that pretty mouth and take what you earned.” They don’t ask permission. They just ruin you.

Jake goes first, groaning loud and theatrical, fist flying as thick, ropey jets of cum erupt across your face. One stripe lands right across your open mouth, coating your tongue in salty heat. Another paints your left cheek, dripping down to your jaw. A third splatters across your forehead, sliding into your hair. He milks every drop, slapping his spent cock against your lips. “Swallow what you can, baby. The rest stays.”

Sunghoon’s next, quiet, intense, eyes dark as midnight. He aims low, long powerful spurts painting your tits in pearly white. Thick globs land on your left nipple, sliding down the curve of your breast like icing. Another heavy rope coats the valley between them, dripping down your stomach. He keeps stroking through it, smearing the head of his cock through the mess on your skin, marking you deeper.

Jay growls your name like a curse, “Fuck, look at you”—and unloads across the right side of your face. Hot cum hits your cheekbone, your eyelid, your lips, mixing with Jake’s in sticky rivers that drip off your chin onto your cum-glazed tits. One stray shot lands directly on your tongue and you moan, swallowing reflexively.

Heeseung saves the best for last. He steps closest, tipping your chin up with two fingers so your teary eyes lock onto his. “Eyes on me while I paint my new toy.” His strokes stay slow, deliberate, until the first powerful pulse shoots straight across your lips, forcing you to taste him, thick, bitter-sweet, coating your tongue. The next stripes your chest, adding fresh layers over Sunghoon’s mess, dripping off your nipples in heavy rivulets. He keeps coming, pulse after pulse, until your entire face and tits are a glistening, ruined masterpiece of four loads, cum sliding down your body in obscene trails, pooling in the hollow of your throat and between your thighs.

When they finally step back, you’re a trembling, kneeling wreck, face and chest absolutely drenched, lips parted, tongue still out like a good little cumslut, thighs shaking, pussy clenching and dripping onto the carpet in desperate need.

Heeseung crouches, thumb scooping a thick glob of mixed cum from your bottom lip. He pushes it deep into your mouth. “Suck. Clean every drop like the rules say.” You do, hollowing your cheeks, sucking his thumb clean with a wet pop, eyes fluttering as the salty, musky taste of all four of them floods your senses. He smiles, slow, dark, satisfied. “Rules are rules, baby.”

Jake laughs, tucking his cock away with a satisfied sigh. “Shower’s down the hall, princess. But we won’t mind if you don’t shower today. Or ever again.”

Jay leans down, pressing an almost tender kiss to the top of your cum-matted hair. “Welcome home, roomie.”

Sunghoon just stares, licking his lips as you instinctively drag your tongue across them, chasing every stray drop. “Rent’s cheap as fuck now, huh? But you are gonna pay every single day.”

You can’t speak, voice wrecked, body owned. But your cunt is already fluttering, aching, dripping for the next rule they’ll break you with. And they know it. They always will.

The rest of the day unravels like a slow, deliberate fever dream, every ordinary second laced with the kind of casual, relentless violation that makes your pulse thunder and your cunt throb like a second heartbeat. You try so fucking hard to pretend it’s just another lazy Saturday. That the thick, salty ghosts of their cum aren’t still drying in flaky trails across your tits and cheeks no matter how hard you scrubbed in the shower. That the taste of all four of them, bitter, musky, addictively filthy, doesn’t coat the back of your throat every single time you swallow.  

The shower is a war zone. Scalding water pounds against skin still blooming with faint red handprints and fingertip bruises, steam thick enough to choke on. You soap yourself raw, trying to erase the evidence, but every glide of your own hands over your sore nipples, your swollen clit, your tender skin just reminds you how easily they marked you. When you finally step out, the oversized black tee you pull on clings to your still-damp skin like a surrender flag, hem barely skimming the bottom curve of your ass, nipples already stiff and obvious against the thin cotton, pussy lips puffy and exposed every time you move. No bra. No panties. It’s not even close to 8 p.m., but the rule is already branded into your brain like a collar. You tell yourself it’s just comfort. Practicality. Not the first step in learning to live with your holes on permanent display.

They let you cling to that lie for exactly twenty-three minutes.

You’re in the kitchen, stretching up on tiptoes to grab a glass from the top shelf, the tee riding all the way up to expose the full, bare globes of your ass and the slick shine already coating your inner thighs, when the first crack lands.

Jake’s palm connects with your right cheek like a gunshot, sharp, loud, viciously playful. The sound ricochets off the marble counters. Your whole body jolts forward, glass clattering against the shelf, and a hot bloom of pain explodes across your skin. Before you can even gasp, he’s right there, chest pressed to your back, hips grinding his half-hard cock against the cleft of your ass through his sweats.

“Careful, princess,” he drawls, voice syrupy and mean. Both hands shove up under the tee from behind, claiming your tits like they were built for his palms, squeezing the soft, heavy flesh until it bulges between his fingers, thumbs and forefingers rolling your nipples in tight, cruel pinches that send lightning straight to your clit. “Wouldn’t want you breaking shit on your first full day. Or maybe we should make you clean it up on your knees.”

You white-knuckle the counter, breath sawing out of you, thighs pressing together uselessly as fresh slick drips down your legs.

Heeseung strolls past like he’s fetching orange juice, not even sparing you a glance, until his arm snaps out mid-stride and his open palm cracks across your left cheek so hard the sting blooms white-hot and immediate. Your knees buckle. He keeps walking, cool as ever, but you catch the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Jay’s waiting when you bend over to grab a yogurt from the bottom drawer of the fridge. The oversized tee flips up completely, baring your dripping cunt and the pink handprints already decorating your ass. His bare foot hooks your ankle, yanking your legs apart with zero warning. Then his hand comes down, once, twice, three brutal, stinging slaps in rapid succession, each one harder than the last, the wet smack of skin on wet skin echoing obscenely. Your pussy clenches visibly with every impact, a humiliating string of slick stretching from your hole to the floor.

“Good reach, roomie,” he mutters, already back to scrolling his phone like he didn’t just turn your ass into a throbbing, cherry-red masterpiece. “Keep bending over like that and I might have to test how deep that pretty throat is before dinner.”

Sunghoon doesn’t bother with words. He simply appears behind you while you’re loading the dishwasher, hips slamming forward to pin you bent over the open rack, his massive erection grinding slow and filthy between your spread cheeks. One arm bands around your waist, the other shoves under the tee to grope your tits with lazy, proprietary thoroughness, palms rolling the soft mounds like ripe fruit, fingers tugging and twisting your nipples until they’re swollen, aching peaks. He pinches so hard you cry out, then releases you with a low whistle, walking away like he just checked the mail.

It never stops.

Every single movement is an invitation they cash immediately. Reaching for the remote? Jake’s fingers plunge between your thighs from behind, two thick digits sliding through your soaked folds just long enough to coat themselves before he pulls away, sucking them clean with a wink. Bending to pick up a dropped spoon? Jay’s palm cracks down again, then stays, middle finger dipping into your cunt, pumping once, twice, curling against your G-spot until your knees shake, then withdrawing with a wet pop and a casual “oops.” Stretching up to dust the top shelf? Heeseung’s mouth finds the back of your neck, teeth grazing, one hand sliding between your legs to flick your clit in rapid, teasing circles until you’re whimpering, then he’s gone, leaving you edged and gasping.

By late afternoon you’re a walking wreck, skin flushed scarlet, ass a lattice of overlapping handprints burning with every step, nipples raw and hypersensitive against the cotton, cunt so swollen and empty it aches like a bruise. Your thighs are shiny with constant slick. Your brain is fogged with need. You’re trying, failing, to fold laundry on the living room couch when Jake decides he’s done playing.

He doesn’t ask. Doesn’t warn. He simply drops to his knees in front of you like a man starved for weeks, hooks your trembling legs over his broad shoulders, and buries his face in your dripping pussy with a guttural groan that vibrates straight through your clit.

No warmup. No mercy.

His tongue is everywhere at once, broad, flat, filthy laps from your clenching hole all the way up to your throbbing clit, then sucking the swollen bud between his lips like he’s trying to pull your soul out through it. He alternates, hard, punishing suction that makes your back bow off the cushions, then soft, fluttering licks that leave you sobbing. Two thick fingers spear into you without resistance, curling viciously against that spongy spot inside while his tongue flicks your clit in rapid, relentless strokes. The wet sounds are deafening, your slick gushing around his knuckles, dripping down his chin, soaking the couch beneath you.

You grab fistfuls of his hair, half trying to rip him off, half grinding your cunt against his face desperate for release. “J-Jake, fuck—too much—ahh!”

He growls into your pussy, the vibration making your vision spark white. Three fingers now, stretching you wide, pumping brutally, thumb rubbing tight circles on your clit while his tongue spears inside you, fucking you in shallow, messy thrusts. Your thighs clamp around his head like a vice. Your back arches so hard you nearly levitate. The orgasm rips through you like lightning, violent, shattering, squirting messily all over his face as you scream, walls convulsing, vision whiting out completely.

He doesn’t stop. He rides you through it, through the aftershocks, through the oversensitive whimpers and the frantic pushing at his head, tongue and fingers relentless until you’re a sobbing, twitching wreck, another smaller orgasm crashing over you before the first even fades.

Only then does he pull back, face glistening, lips swollen, chin dripping with your cum like he just won a war. He climbs up your body slow, caging you against the cushions with his powerful frame, cock heavy and leaking against your thigh through his sweats. Then he kisses you. Not the brutal, claiming way you expect after he just devoured your cunt like a starving animal.

Sweet. Devastatingly soft. His mouth moves against yours like a promise, gentle, coaxing, tongue sliding in lazy, velvet strokes that taste like your own slick and his spit. One hand cups your cheek with shocking tenderness, thumb stroking your jawbone like you’re fragile, precious. The other rests low on your belly, warm, possessive, fingers splayed like he’s claiming the space where his cock will eventually live.

It breaks something in you. Filthy-sweet. Disorienting. Dangerous. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, breath mingling, eyes half-lidded and shining. “Good girl,” he whispers, so soft it feels like a secret. “Tasted so fucking sweet. Could eat this pussy for every meal.”

Then he’s gone, standing, wiping his shiny face with the back of his hand, flashing that boyish, wicked grin like he didn’t just ruin you twice in five minutes. You lie there panting, legs still hooked open and shaking, lips tingling, cunt still fluttering and leaking onto the ruined couch. The others don’t even pretend to look away anymore.

Heeseung glances over from the armchair, dark eyes gleaming, one brow raised in quiet approval. Jay keeps scrolling, but his free hand is palming the massive bulge in his sweats. Sunghoon licks his lips slowly, deliberately, like he’s already tasting his turn. You yank the tee down over your trembling thighs with shaking hands, trying to catch your breath, trying to remember how to be a person.

The clock on the wall glows 7:42 p.m. Eighteen minutes until the first rule locks in for the night. And every single one of them is watching the seconds tick down with hungry, patient eyes.

The day was “normal.”

But normal in this house means your body is their favorite toy, teased, slapped, groped, eaten, and edged until you’re dripping and desperate. The night hasn’t even started.

The apartment is shrouded in that heavy, post-midnight hush, only the low, constant hum of the AC and the faint, faraway pulse of city traffic bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The clock on the wall glows 12:34 a.m. Your panties have been gone for hours, the rule now a permanent, throbbing law between your legs. Every step you take reminds you: bare, slick, exposed, owned.

You’re trying to ghost down the hallway like a shadow, bare feet silent on the cool hardwood, oversized tee clutched in one fist to keep the hem from riding up, when Heeseung materializes out of nowhere. His long fingers wrap around your wrist like a steel cuff, firm but not cruel, and he yanks you sideways without a single word. The door to his room swings open, swallows you both, and clicks shut with the finality of a prison gate. The lock engages with a soft, damning thunk.

The second the bolt slides home, the mask drops. Heeseung spins you around and slams you back against the door so hard the wood rattles in its frame. His mouth crashes into yours, teeth clashing, tongues battling, no sweetness, just raw, starving hunger. One big hand fists your hair, yanking your head back so he can devour your throat, sucking bruises into the skin while the other shoves up under your tee and finds your already dripping cunt.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he growls against your pulse point, two thick fingers spearing straight into you without warning. “Been walking around all night with this greedy little hole empty? Bad girl.”

You moan brokenly, hips jerking into his hand. He adds a third finger instantly, stretching you wide, scissoring brutally while his thumb grinds hard circles on your swollen clit. Your knees buckle; he doesn’t let you fall. Just pins you to the door with his body and finger-fucks you so viciously the sound echoes louder than your gasps.

He rips the tee over your head in one motion, leaving you completely naked. Then he’s spinning you again, bending you over the edge of his massive bed, face pressed into the black silk sheets that smell like him, dark, expensive, masculine. He kicks your legs wider, slaps your ass once, twice, hard enough to make the flesh jiggle and bloom pink.

“Look at this pretty cunt clenching for me,” he snarls, lining up the fat, leaking head of his cock and slamming in to the hilt in one brutal thrust. The stretch burns so good you scream into the mattress. He doesn’t give you time to adjust, just grips your hips hard enough to bruise and starts pounding.

Skin slaps skin like thunder. His heavy balls smack your clit with every savage thrust. The bed creaks violently under the assault. He fucks you like he’s trying to split you in half—deep, punishing strokes that drag against every sensitive ridge inside you, the thick head battering your cervix on every inward slam.

“Take it,” he grunts, one hand fisting your hair to arch your back, the other reaching around to slap your clit in time with his thrusts. “This is what you signed up for, roomie. This cunt belongs to the house now, belongs to me tonight.”

You’re sobbing, drooling onto the sheets, pussy gushing around his cock so loudly it’s embarrassing. He reaches down and spreads your ass cheeks wider, watching his thick shaft disappear into your stretched hole, the creamy ring of your arousal coating every inch.

“Fuck, look at that. Greedy little slut sucking me in.”

He pulls out suddenly, flips you onto your back, and hooks your legs over his shoulders. The new angle lets him drive even deeper. His hips snap forward like a machine, relentless, punishing, perfect. Your tits bounce wildly with every thrust. He leans down and sucks one swollen nipple into his mouth, biting hard enough to make you wail, then soothes it with his tongue before moving to the other.

You come first, hard, screaming, walls clamping down on him like a vice, squirting messily around his cock as your whole body seizes. He doesn’t slow. Just fucks you straight through it, growling praises and filth into your ear.

“That’s it, milk my cock, baby. Give me another. Come on this dick again like the house whore you are.”

You do, second orgasm ripping through you even harder, vision whiting out, nails raking bloody lines down his back. Heeseung follows with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt and flooding you with thick, hot ropes of cum, pulse after pulse until it’s leaking out around his cock, dripping down your ass and soaking the sheets.

He stays buried inside you for a long moment, both of you heaving, sweat-slick bodies glued together. Then he pulls out slowly, watching with dark satisfaction as his cum pours from your ruined hole in a creamy waterfall.

But the brutality ends there.

Heeseung rolls off you with surprising grace, chest still rising and falling hard. He sits up, runs a hand through his wrecked hair, then stands, completely naked, still half-hard and shining with your combined mess. You lie there boneless, thighs trembling, cum leaking steadily onto the bed, mind completely blank.

He disappears into the attached bathroom. You hear the faucet run, the soft clink of glass. When he returns, he’s carrying a warm, damp cloth and a small bottle of something. You flinch when he kneels between your spread thighs again, instinct, not fear, but he just shushes you softly.

“Easy, baby.”

The cloth is blissfully warm. He starts at your inner thighs, wiping away the sticky trails of cum with slow, careful strokes. Then higher, between your folds, dabbing gently at your swollen, puffy entrance. You hiss when the fabric brushes your oversensitive clit; he pauses instantly, waiting until you relax before continuing. He cleans every inch of you with the patience of a man who’s done this before, thorough, reverent, almost worshipful. When he’s satisfied, he sets the cloth aside and pours a small amount of cool, soothing lotion onto his fingers, massaging it gently into the red handprints on your hips, your ass, the bite marks on your breasts.

You can only stare at him, wide-eyed, lips parted, heart hammering in a way that has nothing to do with the orgasms.

Heeseung meets your gaze, those dark eyes steady, unreadable for a heartbeat, then the corner of his mouth lifts in something softer than a smirk. “I may be an asshole, baby,” he says, voice low and gravel-rough from how loud he’d moaned your name, “but I know how to treat what’s mine right after I break it.”

He finishes with the lotion, then grabs a clean, fluffy towel from the dresser and drapes it gently over your hips like a blanket. Pulls the black silk sheet up to your waist, tucking it around you with careful hands. Finally, he leans down, brushes sweat-damp strands of hair off your forehead with his knuckles, light, almost sweet, and presses the softest kiss to your temple.

“Get some sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “You’re gonna need every ounce of strength for what the rest of them have planned tomorrow.”

He doesn’t stay. Just stands, flicks off the bedside lamp with a soft click, and pads out of the room, leaving the door cracked just enough that a thin, golden line of hallway light spills across the floor like an invitation… or a warning.

You lie there in the dark, body aching in the most delicious, ruined way, pussy still fluttering with aftershocks, skin tingling from his gentle hands, mind spinning in dizzy circles.

Because he is an asshole. A cruel, rule-making, cum-painting, pussy-destroying asshole. But tonight, for the first time since you moved in, you’re terrifyingly certain that’s not all he is. And that single, dangerous crack in the armor?

It scares you more than every filthy rule they’ve written on that fridge. Because if Heeseung can fuck you like a toy and then care for you like something precious…

What the hell are the other three capable of? You get your answer somewhere around an hour after Heeseung leaves.

The apartment has gone quiet, city lights bleeding through the blinds in faint orange stripes, the distant hum of traffic like white noise. You’re half-asleep in your own bed again, body still humming from earlier, skin too sensitive, mind too full of everything that’s happened since you walked through the front door. The sheets feel cool against the faint bruises blooming on your hips.

You don’t hear the door open. Just feel the mattress dip behind you, slow, careful, like whoever it is doesn’t want to startle you awake. Then warmth. Jay’s chest presses to your back, not crowding, not possessive in the usual way. Just… there. Solid. His arm slides around your waist from behind, palm flattening low on your stomach. Fingers splay wide, covering as much skin as they can without gripping.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just breathes, slow, even, against the nape of your neck. His nose brushes the baby hairs there once, twice. Then his thumb starts moving.

Slow circles. Lazy, deliberate swirls over the soft skin just below your navel. The kind of touch that feels like he’s tracing something fragile. Like you’re made of blown glass, or spun sugar, or something that might crack if he presses too hard.

It’s nothing like the way they’ve touched you all day. No slaps. No gropes. No mocking whispers or filthy promises. Just this. Quiet. Steady. Almost reverent. You tense for half a second, waiting for the punchline, the shift into something meaner.

It doesn’t come. Instead, his lips find the curve where your shoulder meets your neck. Not a kiss. Just a resting place. Warm breath fanning over your skin in time with the slow rub of his thumb. “You okay?” he murmurs eventually. Voice low, rough from sleep and whatever else he’s been doing in the dark. Not demanding an answer. Just… checking.

You don’t know what to say. Your throat feels tight. You nod once, small, barely there. His hand keeps moving. Same rhythm. Same gentleness. Circles widening a little, then tightening again, like he’s memorizing the shape of you under his palm.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says against your skin. “Any of it. Tonight. Tomorrow. Whenever.”

The words hang there, simple, quiet, sincere in a way that doesn’t match the asshole roommates who printed rules on the fridge and came on your face like it was a housewarming tradition. You swallow. “I’m… okay,” you whisper. It’s the truth, mostly. The rest is too tangled to name.

He hums once, soft, approving. His arm tightens just enough to pull you closer, back flush to his chest. No grind. No wandering hands. Just holding. The circles don’t stop. Slow. Soothing. Like he’s trying to rub the tension out of you molecule by molecule. You feel your breathing start to match his, deeper, slower. The ache between your legs dulls to a low throb instead of a sharp pulse. Your eyelids grow heavy again. Jay doesn’t move to leave.

Doesn’t push for more. Just stays. Palm warm on your waist. Thumb still drawing those endless, careful circles. Like you’re something worth being gentle with. Even here. Even now. You fall asleep to the rhythm of it, his heartbeat steady against your spine, his breath even against your neck, the soft scrape of calluses on your skin.

And for the first time since you moved in, the apartment doesn’t feel quite so dangerous.

Sunlight slices through the half-open blinds in thin, golden bars across your bare back. You wake slowly, first to the sensation of heat, then weight, then the unmistakable press of something thick and heavy sliding past your lips before your eyes are even open.

Heeseung. He’s already there, kneeling at the edge of the mattress, one hand braced on the headboard, the other cradling the back of your skull with surprising care. His cock is hard, morning wood, thick and flushed, veins prominent under the skin, and he’s feeding it to you slowly, not thrusting, just… settling. Like he’s been waiting for you to wake up around him.

Your lashes flutter. A soft, sleepy sound escapes your throat, half protest, half surrender, as your mouth stretches to accommodate him. He doesn’t push deeper than you can take. Just holds still once the head bumps the back of your tongue, letting you adjust.

“Shh,” he murmurs above you, thumb stroking the hinge of your jaw. “Morning, baby.”

His voice is gravel-rough from sleep, softer than it has any right to be. You blink up at him through damp lashes. He’s shirtless, hair a wreck, eyes dark but not cruel. There’s something almost apologetic in the way he looks down at you, like he knows exactly how many times he’s already used this mouth, this body, in the last forty-eight hours and still can’t stop.

You don’t pull away. Instead, you flatten your tongue along the underside, hollow your cheeks just enough to make him hiss quietly. His hips twitch once, small, involuntary, then still again.

“Good girl,” he breathes. Not mocking. Quiet. Almost reverent.

That’s when you feel the mattress dip on either side. Jake slides in behind you first, warm chest pressing to your back, knees nudging yours apart. His cock, already leaking, slides between your thighs, not inside yet, just rocking slow and lazy along your folds. He kisses the nape of your neck, open-mouthed and gentle, like he’s tasting sleep-warmed skin instead of claiming territory.

“Morning, princess,” he whispers against your ear. One hand slips under you, cupping your breast, not squeezing, just holding. Palm warm. Fingers splayed. Thumb brushing the nipple in slow, soothing circles.

Sunghoon appears on your other side, long limbs unfolding gracefully. He doesn’t speak at first. Just watches your face while Heeseung rocks shallowly into your mouth. Then he leans in, presses a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. The gesture is so unexpectedly tender your breath hitches around Heeseung’s length.

Sunghoon’s hand finds your hip. Strokes down the curve of your waist, then back up. Like he’s memorizing every dip and swell. Like he’s sorry for every bruise he’s left there. Jay’s the last to join.

He’s fully dressed, gray sweats, black tee, hair still damp from a shower, sitting in the armchair across from the bed with a steaming mug of black coffee in one hand and his phone in the other. Vertical hold. Red recording dot blinking steadily.

He doesn’t say anything filthy. Doesn’t bark orders. Just watches. Sips. The corner of his mouth lifts when your eyes meet his over Heeseung’s shoulder. Not a smirk. Something quieter. Almost fond. “Pretty,” he mouths. No sound. Just the shape of the word.

Heeseung starts moving then, slow, shallow rolls of his hips. Never deep enough to choke you. Just enough to fill your mouth, to let you taste the salt and musk of him. Your hands come up instinctively, fingers curling around the base he can’t fit, stroking what your lips can’t reach.

Jake shifts behind you. Lines himself up. Presses in, slow. So slow. The stretch is lazy, unhurried, like he has all morning to sink into you. When he bottoms out, he stays there. Doesn’t thrust. Just grinds in tiny, rolling circles, letting you feel every inch pressed against that spot inside that makes your toes curl.

Sunghoon’s hand slides between you and the mattress. Finds your clit. Circles it with the same gentle pressure Jake’s using on your nipple. No frantic rubbing. No pinching. Just soft, steady friction that builds slow and syrupy.

You moan around Heeseung, muffled, needy. The vibration makes him groan low in his throat.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “That’s it.”

They move like they’ve rehearsed it. Like they’ve agreed, silently, somewhere in the dark hours after Jay held you last night, that today they won’t break you. Not more than they already have.

Jake rocks into you in time with Heeseung’s shallow thrusts. Sunghoon’s fingers never falter, patient, coaxing. Your body starts to tremble, not from overstimulation, but from the slow, relentless climb they’re building together.

Jay’s phone stays steady. He tilts it slightly, capturing the way your back arches, the way Jake’s hand splays protectively over your stomach, the way Sunghoon’s lips brush your shoulder every few seconds like he can’t help himself.

Heeseung’s breathing grows ragged first. “Gonna come,” he warns, voice strained, almost pleading. “Where do you want it, baby?” You can’t answer with words. Just tighten your lips around him, suck harder, look up at him with wide, glassy eyes.

He swears under his breath. Pulls out at the last second, strokes himself twice, and spills across your tongue in thick, warm pulses. You swallow what you can; the rest drips from the corner of your mouth. Heeseung catches it with his thumb, pushes it back between your lips.

“Good girl,” he whispers again. This time his voice cracks. Jake’s rhythm falters behind you. His forehead drops to your shoulder. “Fuck—can I—inside?”

You nod frantically, around Heeseung’s softening cock still resting on your tongue.

He groans, long, low, broken, and buries himself deep. Comes with a shudder that rocks through both of you. Hot. Thick. Filling you until it leaks out around him, down your thighs. He doesn’t pull out right away. Just stays seated, grinding lazily through the aftershocks, letting you clench around him like he’s trying to keep every drop where it belongs.

Sunghoon’s fingers speed up just enough, still gentle, still careful, and you come like a wave breaking slow. No scream. No violent shaking. Just a long, trembling release that leaves you boneless, whimpering softly into Heeseung’s thigh.

They don’t rush to move.

Jake stays inside you, softening but not leaving. Sunghoon keeps petting your clit through the aftershocks, light, soothing touches now. Heeseung strokes your hair back from your face, tucking strands behind your ear.

Jay finally lowers the phone. Stops recording. Sets the mug on the side table. Walks over. He kneels on the edge of the bed, still fully clothed, and cups your cheek. Thumb swipes away the last trace of Heeseung from your lip.

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You nod. Eyes heavy. Body humming. He leans down. Kisses your forehead, soft. Lingering. Then he looks at the others. “Group chat,” he says simply. “She’s gonna want to see it later.”

Jake chuckles, soft, breathless, against your neck. “She’s gonna come again just watching.” Sunghoon finally pulls his hand away. Presses one last kiss to your shoulder blade. Heeseung helps ease you onto your side, careful, like you might shatter. Jake slips out slowly, both of you hissing at the loss. Cum leaks immediately, thick, white, obscene. Jay grabs a clean towel from the nightstand, wipes between your thighs with the same gentle care Heeseung used last night.

No one speaks for a minute. Just breathing. Skin cooling. Hearts slowing. Then Heeseung breaks the quiet. “We were… a lot,” he says. Voice rough. Eyes on yours. “Yesterday. The day before. If it’s too much—”

You shake your head before he can finish. Reach up. Curl your fingers around his wrist. “I’m here,” you whisper. “I’m staying.” Something flickers across his face, relief, maybe. Guilt, definitely.

Jay’s hand finds yours. Squeezes once. Jake presses his lips to the back of your neck, soft, apologetic. Sunghoon just watches you. Then leans in. Kisses the corner of your mouth. Slow. Sweet. “Breakfast,” Jay says eventually. “In bed. No rules for the next hour.”

You laugh, small, wrecked, real. They move like they’ve been given permission to be soft. And for the first time since you moved in, you let yourself believe they might actually mean it. The rest of the day unfolds like something borrowed from another life.

No one touches you. Not in the hungry, claiming way you’ve come to expect. No wandering hands under your shirt while you’re making toast. No casual spanks when you bend to pick up a stray sock. No one pins you against the counter or drags you onto a lap. The rules, those printed, obscene bullet points on the fridge, might as well be written in invisible ink for how irrelevant they feel in the soft, lazy hours that follow breakfast.

They just… stay.

All four of them orbit you without crowding. The living room becomes this strange, sunlit island: blankets dragged from bedrooms, pillows piled into a makeshift nest on the sectional, takeout containers from last night still scattered like evidence of a truce. Someone puts on music, low-fi beats, nothing aggressive, just enough rhythm to fill the quiet without demanding attention. Jake sprawls across the floor with his head in your lap, scrolling memes on his phone and reading the funniest ones out loud in increasingly ridiculous voices until you snort-laugh and accidentally knee him in the ribs.

“Ow, princess, you trying to murder me?” he whines, but he’s grinning, grabbing your hand to press a dramatic kiss to your knuckles before going right back to his phone.

Jay sits cross-legged at the other end of the couch, one of your feet in his lap. He massages your ankle absentmindedly while he argues with Heeseung about whether the new season of some crime drama is trash or genius. Every time you shift, he squeezes your calf once, gentle, grounding, like a silent check-in.

Heeseung’s on the armchair opposite, legs kicked up on the coffee table, nursing the same lukewarm coffee from this morning. He catches your eye every so often and just… holds it. No smirk. No heat. Just a small, almost shy tilt of his mouth, like he’s still surprised you’re still here.

Sunghoon is the quietest. He’s tucked into the corner of the sectional, long legs stretched out, one arm slung over the backrest behind you. He doesn’t say much, just watches. Watches you laugh at Jake’s dumb jokes. Watches the way your shoulders slowly unclench. Watches the way the afternoon light turns your skin gold.

You keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Every time someone shifts closer, every time a hand brushes your arm or knee, your body tenses on instinct, bracing for the grab, the grope, the inevitable slide into filth. But it never comes.

Instead: Jake starts a pillow fight that lasts exactly thirty five seconds before Jay declares himself referee and tackles Jake into the cushions. Heeseung orders fried chicken and insists on feeding you the first piece, holding it to your lips like Jay used to, but this time there’s no sauce-smeared thumb, no dirty promise in his eyes. Just a soft “Open up, baby,” and when you do, he smiles like you’ve given him something precious.

Sunghoon eventually migrates closer. Not crowding. Just enough that his thigh presses warm against yours. You glance at him, skeptical, guarded, still half-expecting the mask to slip. He notices. Of course he does. His hand lifts, slow, telegraphing every movement so you can pull away if you want. You don’t.

Fingers gentle, he reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch lingers there, knuckles grazing the shell lightly, before he lets his palm cup the side of your face for half a heartbeat. You freeze. He smiles. Not the cold, cutting one he usually wears. Something smaller. Softer. Almost sad.

“You are our friend, sweetheart,” he says quietly. His voice is low enough that the others have to strain to hear, but they do. The room quiets around the words like they’re something fragile. You blink. Throat tight. Sunghoon’s thumb brushes your cheekbone once, barely there.

“We fucked this up from the start,” he continues, softer still. “We saw you walk through that door looking like you were ready to bolt at the first wrong move… and we made sure every move was wrong. On purpose.” His gaze drops to where his hand still rests against your skin. “Thought it’d be easier if you hated us. If you left on your own. If we never had to admit we wanted you to stay for more than just—”

He stops. Swallows. “—for more than just the easy parts.” The confession hangs there, heavy and unpolished. Jake’s head is still in your lap; he’s gone unnaturally still, staring up at the ceiling like he’s afraid to interrupt. Jay’s thumb has paused on your ankle.

Heeseung sets his coffee down. Slowly. You look around at them, all four, and for the first time you see it: the guilt. Not performative. Not a tactic. Real. Raw. Sitting under their skin like a bruise they’ve been ignoring. Sunghoon’s hand finally drops from your face, but he doesn’t move away.

“We’re not asking for forgiveness,” he says. “We don’t deserve it. Not yet. But we’re not gonna keep treating you like—” He exhales through his nose. “—like you’re disposable. Not anymore.” Silence stretches. Then Jake, sweet, chaotic Jake, breaks it by pressing the softest kiss to the inside of your wrist.

“Friends can still cuddle, right?” he mumbles against your skin. “Because I’m not moving. My head’s too comfy.” A tiny, surprised laugh bubbles out of you. Jay squeezes your calf once. “We’ve got time,” he says simply. “No rush. No rules today.”

Heeseung leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Tell us what you want,” he says. “Right now. Anything. We’ll listen.” You look at them, really look. The assholes who printed rules on the fridge. The ones who marked you, used you, laughed while they did it. The ones who just spent an entire day proving they know how to be gentle when they choose to be. You swallow.

“I want…” Your voice is small at first. Then steadier. “I want to believe you.” Sunghoon’s eyes soften. “Then we’ll keep showing you,” he says. “Until you do.”

Jake nuzzles closer into your lap like a cat claiming territory. Jay resumes the slow massage on your ankle. Heeseung picks up the remote, queues up some mindless comedy you’ve all seen a hundred times.

And Sunghoon, quiet, beautiful, regretful Sunghoon, leans in just enough to rest his forehead against your temple. “Friends,” he whispers again. Like a promise.

Like a beginning. The afternoon bleeds into evening. No one fucks you. No one even tries. They just stay. Laughing. Joking. Touching you like you matter. And for the first time since you moved in, you let yourself lean into it.

Just a little. Just enough to see what happens when the rules stop mattering and the people start to.

The apartment feels different when the others are gone, quieter, yes, but not the hollow kind of quiet that echoes off the walls. It’s softer, warmer, like the whole space exhales once Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon finally slip out the door with their jackets half-zipped and promises of “real food” still lingering in the air. Twenty minutes ago they each pressed a kiss to your forehead, Heeseung’s lingering the longest, his thumb sweeping slow circles over your cheekbone as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were letting all four of them stay, Jay’s quick and teasing with a wink, Sunghoon’s almost shy, lips brushing your skin like a secret. They told Jake to behave, and the second the door clicked shut behind them, Jake’s grin turned wicked, golden-retriever energy dialed up to eleven, like the instruction itself was foreplay.

He’s been orbiting you ever since, turning half-hearted chores into an excuse to stay glued to your side. You’re folding laundry on the couch, and he keeps “helping” by snatching shirts out of your hands just to hold them up like trophies before tossing them back in a messy pile. In the kitchen he hip-checks you every time you reach for a dish towel, laughing low and bright when you swat at his chest. The late-afternoon sun pours through the big windows in thick golden slabs, catching on the fine hairs of his arms, turning his skin warm and honeyed. You’re both a little sweaty from moving around, the faint scent of his cologne, something clean, mixing with the laundry detergent and the leftover smell of last night’s fried chicken still clinging to the air. 

“You’re terrible at this,” you say, watching him wrestle a fitted sheet into something that vaguely resembles a rectangle. The elastic corners keep snapping back at him like they have a personal grudge.

Jake flashes that devastating, all-teeth smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m excellent at distractions. Watch this, baby.”

Before you can protest, he shakes the sheet out with dramatic flair, like a matador taunting a bull, then whips it over both your heads in one smooth motion. The world narrows instantly to white cotton filtered sunlight, the fabric draping around you like a private tent. You’re both laughing before you can stop it, deep, helpless belly laughs that make your ribs ache and your eyes water. The sheet muffles everything, turning the sound intimate and close. Jake’s body is right there, heat radiating off him, chest brushing yours with every breathless chuckle. He tugs you deeper under the fabric, arms wrapping loosely around your waist, and suddenly the playful game shifts. His nose nudges yours. You feel the brush of his lashes against your cheek. The laughter fades into something heavier, warmer, the air between you thickening like honey.

“See?” he murmurs, voice low and rougher now. “Masterclass in procrastination.”

You roll your eyes, but your hands are already sliding up his chest, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You don’t push him away. You pull him closer.

The sheet eventually slips to the floor in a crumpled heap, forgotten. You move down the hallway together, the basket of clean clothes balanced on your hip, Jake trailing so close his fingers keep ghosting the small of your back. You bend over to grab a stray sock that’s escaped onto the floor, nothing exaggerated, just a natural lean, your thin cotton shorts riding up just enough to expose the curve where thigh meets hip. Behind you, Jake sucks in a sharp, punched-out breath, like the sight physically winds him.

You freeze.

His hand settles on your hip, palm broad and hot, fingers spreading wide over the soft flesh through the fabric. Not a slap, not a grope. Just… claiming. Resting there with deliberate weight, thumb stroking a slow, lazy circle that makes your skin prickle. You feel every callus on his fingertips, the faint tremble in his touch like he’s fighting the urge to squeeze harder. Heat blooms low in your belly, liquid and slow.

You straighten up slowly, deliberately, and his hand stays glued to you, sliding with the motion so it ends up cupping the full cheek. He turns you around with the gentlest pressure on your hip, like you’re made of glass he’s terrified of cracking. Your back meets the cool wall of the hallway with a soft thud. Jake crowds in immediately, but not aggressively, his body cages you without trapping, one forearm braced beside your head, the other hand still kneading your ass with slow, possessive squeezes that make your breath hitch.

His eyes have gone dark, almost black, pupils blown wide. Not the usual playful hunger. Something deeper. Hungrier. Worshipful.

“Hey,” he breathes, voice gravel-rough. “You good? Still with me?” You nod, small and shaky, because the air has turned thick, syrupy, every inhale dragging like molasses. Your nipples are already tight against your shirt, and you know he can see it. He leans in like he’s giving you every chance to stop him. The first kiss is feather-light, barely a brush of lips, testing, asking. You answer by tilting your head, parting your mouth just enough, tongue flicking out to taste him. That’s all the permission he needs.

Jake kisses you like he’s been starving for it since the day you moved in, like every shared glance and late-night movie marathon has been foreplay leading to this exact second. Slow. So fucking slow. His lips are plush and warm, sliding against yours with wet, deliberate pressure. He sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, tongue tracing the seam until you open wider, then he licks inside, deep, lazy strokes that map every inch of you like he’s memorizing the taste. You moan softly into his mouth and he answers with a low, guttural groan that vibrates straight down to your clit. His hand on your ass tightens, pulling you flush against him so you can feel exactly how hard he already is, thick, heavy ridge straining against his sweatpants, pressing right against your lower belly.

One of his hands cradles your jaw, thumb stroking your cheekbone while the other slides up under your shirt, palm flat and scorching against the bare skin of your stomach. He doesn’t rush. His fingers splay wide, stroking up your ribs, tracing the underside of your breasts with reverent touches. When his thumb finally brushes over your nipple, already pebbled and aching, he circles it slowly, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp and arch into him. He swallows the sound, kissing you deeper, tongue fucking into your mouth in filthy, rhythmic strokes that mimic exactly what you wish his cock was doing somewhere else.

You’re grinding on his thigh now, small, helpless rolls of your hips that drag your soaked pussy along the hard muscle. The thin fabric of your shorts is useless; you can feel how wet you’ve gotten, the slickness coating your inner thighs, probably leaving a damp spot on his sweats. Jake breaks the kiss only to drag his open mouth down your jaw, sucking wet, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. He bites down gently, then soothes it with his tongue, leaving faint red marks that bloom under his lips. You tilt your head back against the wall, exposing more of your throat, and he takes full advantage, licking a hot stripe down to your collarbone, sucking hard enough that you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow, little purple galaxies only the four of them will see.

“Fuck, you taste so fucking good,” he groans against your skin, voice wrecked. “Sweet. Like you’ve been waiting for me to do this all day.”

His hand leaves your breast only to slide down, cupping your pussy through your shorts. He doesn’t push inside, just rubs the heel of his palm in slow, firm circles right over your clit, feeling how soaked the fabric is. You whimper, hips jerking, and he chuckles darkly into your neck.

“Yeah? That feel good, baby? You’re dripping for me already.”

You can’t answer with words, just a broken moan as two of his fingers slip under the hem of your shorts, tracing your slick folds without pushing in, spreading your wetness up to your clit and rubbing tight, teasing circles. Your hands are frantic now, one fisted in his hair, the other palming the thick length of his cock through his sweats, squeezing and stroking him until he’s panting against your mouth, hips twitching like he’s fighting not to rut into your hand.

You kiss for what feels like hours, messy, spit-slick, tongues tangled and sliding. Your lips are swollen and tingling, jaw aching in the best way. He keeps breaking away only to come right back, sucking on your tongue, biting your bottom lip, whispering filthy little praises between kisses.

“So fucking pretty when you’re desperate like this… making those sweet little sounds for me… gonna ruin me, baby, you know that?”

Your legs are trembling. He notices, always notices, and presses his thigh harder between yours, letting you ride it properly now, the friction perfect and relentless. His fingers keep working your clit in lazy strokes, dipping just inside your entrance to gather more slick before sliding back up, never giving you enough to come, just keeping you right on the edge, trembling and whimpering into his mouth.

When he finally pulls back, forehead resting against yours, both of you are breathing like you’ve run miles, chests heaving, lips shiny and red, his hair a complete mess from your fingers. His eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed, cock throbbing visibly against your palm.

“Shit,” he laughs, breathless and shaky. “I didn’t mean to… fuck, I just—”

You cut him off with another kiss, slow, deep, pouring everything you’re feeling into it. When you pull away, you whisper against his swollen lips, “I know. I wanted it too.”

He smiles, that crooked, boyish, heart-stopping smile, and kisses the tip of your nose, then your forehead, then pulls you tight into his chest. His arms wrap around you completely, one hand still cupping your ass possessively, the other stroking soothing circles up and down your spine. You can feel his heart hammering against yours, his cock still hard and insistent between you, but he doesn’t push. Doesn’t grind. Just holds you there in the hallway, the distant hum of the fridge and the faint city traffic the only sounds left.

You stay like that for a long, indulgent stretch of minutes, bodies pressed together, breaths syncing, the ache between your legs still pulsing but somehow perfectly satisfied by the simple fact of being wrapped up in him. His lips brush your temple.

“Friends can make out, right?” he murmurs, echoing the joke from earlier, voice warm with affection and something deeper.

You laugh softly against his chest, the sound muffled and content. “Yeah, Jake. Friends can definitely make out.”

And for now, for this golden, sun-drenched afternoon, that’s more than enough. The others will be back soon, but right now the apartment is yours and his, and he just keeps holding you like he never wants to let go.

The hallway still smells faintly of Jake’s cologne, clean and warm skin, and the soft, powdery scent of laundry detergent clinging to the crumpled clothes you never quite finished putting away. His lips are swollen and glossy from the long, lazy make-out against the wall, cheeks flushed a deep pink, pupils blown so wide the pretty hazel is almost gone. He’s breathing hard through his nose, forehead pressed to yours like he needs the contact to stay grounded, hands still shoved up under your shirt, palms hot and broad against the small of your back, thumbs tracing slow, idle arcs that make your spine tingle.

“Fuck,” he whispers, voice wrecked and soft all at once, raw like he’s been shouting your name for hours even though he hasn’t. “I need you on me, princess. Need to feel that pretty pussy sliding down my cock right fucking now.”

The words drop straight into your belly, heavy and molten. You swallow hard, thighs pressing together on instinct, and he feels the tiny clench, grins against the side of your neck, boyish and filthy at the same time.

He doesn’t beg. Doesn’t grab. Just brushes his mouth over the shell of your ear, hot breath ghosting, voice a low rasp that curls straight between your legs.

“Ride me. Please. On the couch. Slow. Let me feel every inch of you taking me like you own it.”

Your cunt throbs at the plea. You nod before you even realize you’re doing it.

Jake laces his fingers through yours, gentle, almost sweet, and leads you back down the hall like you’re going for a Sunday stroll, not about to fuck him stupid in the middle of the living room. The late-afternoon light has shifted, pouring across the big sectional in thick, golden rivers; the cushions are still dented from earlier folding sessions, the air warm and lazy. He drops onto the couch first, sprawling wide, legs splayed, grey sweats already tented, the thick outline of his cock straining against the fabric like it’s trying to escape.

He then hooks his fingers against the edge of your shorts and drags them down, along with your panties. His eyes darken as he gulps and looks up at you.

He pats his thigh once, slow, inviting, eyes locked on yours with that crooked, heart-melting grin.

You don’t hesitate. You climb on, knees sinking into the cushions on either side of his hips, and the first slow grind of your bare, soaked cunt against the hard, hot length of him through the thin material rips a twin hiss from both your throats. You’re dripping, have been since he pinned you to the hallway wall, and the fabric is already darkening under you, slick. Jake’s hands settle on your hips, not guiding yet, just holding, thumbs stroking the skin right above the waistband of your shorts like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

You start slow. Torturously slow. Tiny, rolling rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the rigid ridge of his cock again and again. The friction is perfect, wet, hot, teasing. Every pass makes the fabric cling tighter, the head of his dick bumping right where you need it. Jake’s head falls back against the couch, throat working on a low, broken groan, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Goddamn, baby… look at you. Already so fucking wet you’re soaking through my sweats. That little pussy weeping for me.”

You giggle, breathless, giddy, almost embarrassed at how turned on you are, and lean down to kiss him. Soft at first, just lips brushing, then deeper: tongues sliding lazy and messy, tasting the faint salt of his skin and the sweetness of the iced americano he had earlier. His hands slide back under your shirt, palms scalding against your ribs, thumbs circling the undersides of your breasts in slow, reverent strokes until your nipples are tight, aching peaks. He pinches them gently, rolls them between thumb and forefinger, and you arch into his touch with a whimper that makes him smile against your mouth.

“You’re so fucking soft,” he mumbles between kisses, voice thick. “So perfect. Been dreaming about this tight little cunt wrapped around me since the second you walked through that door and smiled at all of us like we hung the moon. Gonna let me feel it now, princess? Gonna sit on my cock and ride me nice and slow?”

You lift just enough to shove his sweats down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick, flushed dark, veins standing out, the tip already glistening with a fat bead of pre-cum that streaks down the shaft when you wrap your fingers around him. One slow, firm stroke from base to head has him groaning, hips twitching up into your fist. You line him up, notch the blunt head against your dripping entrance, and sink down.

The first inch is heaven.

You both moan, long, filthy sounds, as he stretches you open, thick and hot and perfect, splitting you so deliciously slow you feel every ridge, every vein. Your mouth falls open, eyes fluttering shut. He bottoms out with your ass flush to his thighs, balls pressed tight against you, and the fullness is so overwhelming your walls flutter around him like you’re already close.

“Fuuuuck,” Jake breathes, hands flexing hard on your hips, fingers digging in just enough to bruise. “That’s it. Take every fucking inch, princess. Look at you, swallowing me like you were made for it. So goddamn tight and wet and perfect.”

You start riding him properly, long, deliberate lifts and sinks, rolling your hips on every downstroke so your clit grinds against his pelvis. The sounds of your cunt taking him echo in the quiet apartment: slick, filthy squelches every time you drop down, his cock glistening with your arousal when you rise. Jake’s eyes are glued to where you’re joined, watching himself disappear inside you over and over with something like awe.

“Listen to that,” he groans, voice cracking. “That sloppy little sound every time you take me. You’re dripping down my balls, baby, making such a pretty mess all over me. Gonna stain the couch and I don’t even care.”

You bury your face in his neck for a second, flushed and turned on beyond words, then bite down on the skin there, light, teasing. He jolts, cock twitching hard inside you, and groans louder.

“Fuck, do that again. Mark me up, princess. Want the others to see who got to have you first.”

You do, sucking a faint pink bloom into his throat while you ride him harder, faster, breasts bouncing under your thin shirt. His mouth finds your nipple through the fabric, sucking hard, teeth grazing, soaking the cotton until it’s transparent and clinging. You cry out, high and needy, hips snapping down faster now, chasing the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly.

Jake’s losing it beautifully, head thrown back, throat exposed, hands gripping your ass and spreading you wider so he can watch every inch of his cock sliding in and out of your greedy cunt.

“Shit, ride it harder, baby. Fuck yourself on me. Use my cock like the greedy little slut you are. Come all over it, wanna feel this pussy milk me dry.”

The filthy words spoken in that sweet, reverent tone send you spiraling. You slam down harder, clit grinding relentlessly, thighs burning. He slides one hand between you, thumb finding your swollen clit and rubbing fast, firm circles.

“Come on, princess. Give it to me. Soak my cock. Make it messy. Wanna feel you gush.”

You shatter with a broken cry, head thrown back, back arching, clamping down around him in hard, pulsing waves. Your vision whites out. Thighs shake violently. You gush around him, slick flooding out around his base, soaking his balls and the couch beneath you. Jake swears, low and guttural, hips stuttering up once, twice, burying himself to the hilt as he comes, thick, hot ropes of cum painting your walls, filling you so full it leaks out immediately around his throbbing length.

He holds you flush against him through every aftershock, arms banded tight around your waist, forehead pressed to your collarbone, breathing ragged and shaky. You stay like that, sweaty, trembling, his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum slowly trickling out, while he kisses your shoulder, your neck, the corner of your mouth with soft, lazy presses.

“Best fucking ride of my life,” he mumbles, voice hoarse and sated, nuzzling into your hair.

You laugh, soft, spent, glowing, and nuzzle back. “Friends can do that too, right?”

He chuckles, kissing your temple. “Friends can do whatever the fuck they want.” You’re still seated on him, his cock twitching occasionally inside your cum-filled pussy, when the front door clicks open.

Neither of you moves fast enough. Sunghoon steps in first, grocery bags dangling from one hand, keys in the other, the faint scent of fresh produce and restaurant takeout wafting in with him. He freezes mid-step. Eyes lock on the scene: you straddling Jake on the couch, shirt rucked up to your collarbones, thighs spread obscenely wide, Jake’s cock still half-hard and buried inside you, thick white cum already leaking in slow, creamy rivulets down his balls and onto the cushion.

The bags hit the floor with a heavy, forgotten thud. A carton of eggs probably cracks, but no one cares. Sunghoon’s jaw tightens so hard you hear the sharp click of his teeth. His eyes, usually cool and calm, go black, dangerous, glittering with something possessive and furious.

“What. The. Fuck.”

His voice is ice wrapped in velvet. Low. Deadly calm. Jake startles, arms tightening around you protectively, but he doesn’t dare pull out. Doesn’t even try to cover you.

“Hyung—wait, it’s not—”

Sunghoon crosses the room in three long strides, towering over both of you. He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t shove Jake. Just reaches down, grips your chin between thumb and forefinger, firm, not bruising, and tilts your face up to meet his gaze. His thumb drags slow and deliberate across your bottom lip, then presses inside. You suck instinctively, tongue swirling around the digit, tasting the faint salt of his skin.

His eyes flick to Jake, cold as winter.

“Get out from under her. Now.”

Jake hesitates half a second. Sunghoon’s voice drops even lower, lethal.

“I said now.”

Jake lifts you carefully with a wet, filthy sound that makes Sunghoon’s nostrils flare. The moment he slips free, a thick gush of his cum pours out of you, sliding down your inner thighs in white trails. Jake stays seated on the couch, chest heaving as he watches warily.

Sunghoon never looks away from you. He steps closer, one hand sliding to the nape of your neck, thumb pressing right over your racing pulse, while the other grips your hip hard enough to anchor you. “You let him fuck you the second we walked out the door?” he murmurs, voice velvet and venom, lips brushing your ear. “Spread this pretty pussy for whoever was home first? Without waiting for me? Without even texting?”

You shake your head, small, instinctive, breath caught in your throat. “No?”

He leans in closer, breath hot against your skin. “Then why the fuck are you stuffed so full of him, hmm?”

Two of his long fingers dip between your thighs without warning, sliding deep into your cum-slick cunt with a wet squelch. You gasp, knees buckling. He curls them slowly, deliberately, scissoring, feeling the warm, sticky mess Jake left behind, pushing it deeper before dragging it out again. When he pulls his fingers free they’re coated thick and white. He holds them up between you, shiny, dripping, then brings them to your mouth.

“Clean.”

You open obediently. Suck his fingers clean, tongue swirling, tasting yourself and Jake and the faint metallic tang of Sunghoon’s skin, moaning around them while he watches with dark, unblinking eyes.

“Good girl,” he praises, voice low and rough. Then, suddenly, he yanks you forward by the neck and kisses you, hard, possessive, teeth clashing, tongue fucking into your mouth like he’s erasing every trace of Jake’s kisses. When he pulls back his lips are wet, eyes blazing with jealousy and hunger.

“Bedroom. Now.”

He doesn’t wait for you to walk. Just scoops you up like you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist, arms around his neck, cum still dripping down your thighs and onto his shirt. Jake scrambles up and follows, sweats tugged up haphazardly.

Sunghoon kicks the bedroom door shut behind the three of you with a bang that rattles the frame. He drops you onto the bed, gentle enough not to hurt, rough enough that you bounce, thighs splaying open automatically. He looms over you, tall and broad and radiating controlled fury.

“Strip. Everything off. Let me see exactly what he got to play with while I was gone.”

You obey instantly, tugging your shirt over your head, shoving your shorts down, kicking them aside until you’re completely bare, pussy puffy and glistening.

His gaze rakes over every inch of you, slow, possessive, furious, hungry. He licks his lips. “You’re mine tonight, princess. All fucking mine. And you’re going to feel exactly who this cunt belongs to until you can’t remember anyone else’s name.”

He glances at Jake, standing frozen by the door, eyes wide and cock twitching in his sweats.

“You can watch,” Sunghoon says coldly, voice like a blade. “But you don’t touch. Not until I say so. You sit there and watch me take back what’s mine.”

Jake swallows hard. Nods once. Sinks into the chair in the corner, hand already palming himself through his sweats like he can’t help it.

Sunghoon turns back to you. Grabs your thighs in both hands and spreads them wide, wide enough that your folds spread, dripping. He lowers his head slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

The first long, vicious swipe of his tongue through your folds is punishing, hot, wet, claiming, licking every drop of Jake’s cum straight out of you like he’s erasing the evidence. You arch off the bed with a sharp cry, hands flying to his hair. Sunghoon doesn’t stop. He eats you like a man starved, tongue fucking deep inside your cum-filled hole, sucking noisily, swallowing every filthy mix of you and Jake with low, possessive growls that vibrate straight to your clit. He sucks your swollen folds into his mouth, tongue flicking mercilessly over your clit, then dives back in to lap at the creamy mess still oozing out of you.

You’re moaning, loud, broken, shameless, hips grinding against his face while he devours you, chin and lips shiny with cum and your fresh slick. He pulls back just long enough to growl against your thigh,

“Gonna lick every last drop of him out of this pussy until it only tastes like me. And then I’m going to fuck you so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow when the others take their turns.”

His mouth seals back over your clit, sucking hard, two fingers plunging deep, and the jealousy is only just beginning.

The bedroom is thick with the sounds of Sunghoon’s mouth devouring you, long, filthy drags of his tongue through your cum-slick folds, sucking Jake’s release out of your fluttering hole like he’s personally insulted by every drop. He’s relentless, humming low against your clit, two fingers curled deep inside you, scissoring and stroking that spongy spot that makes your thighs quake around his ears. Your back is arched off the bed, hands fisted in his dark hair, moans spilling out broken and shameless as another orgasm teeters right on the edge.

Then the door bangs open.

Heeseung fills the frame like a storm cloud, broad shoulders tight, jaw locked, one hand fisted in the back of Jake’s t-shirt. Jake looks wrecked already: lips kiss-swollen, cheeks flushed crimson, cock still half-hard and shiny with your slick, the cocky little grin from earlier completely wiped away. Heeseung doesn’t even glance at you at first. His voice is low, calm, the kind of calm that makes the air feel heavier.

“Living room. Now.”

Jake opens his mouth, probably to whine, to joke, to try and charm his way out of it, but Heeseung’s grip tightens, fabric stretching across Jake’s shoulders. Jake stumbles forward instead, casting one last wide-eyed look at you before they disappear down the hall. The living-room door shuts with a soft, deliberate click that somehow feels louder than a slam.

You’re left panting, chest heaving, Sunghoon’s tongue still lazily circling your clit like the interruption was nothing more than background noise. He presses one last open-mouthed kiss to your dripping pussy, then pulls back slowly, lips glossy, chin glistening with a messy mix of you and Jake. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, slow and deliberate, eyes dark and glittering with dark amusement as he rises to his knees between your spread thighs.

“Looks like someone earned himself a timeout,” he murmurs, voice velvet-rough, thumb brushing a lazy stripe up your inner thigh to collect the fresh slick still leaking out of you. His gaze flicks toward the hallway, then back to your flushed, trembling body. “Guess that leaves the three of us to remind you exactly how this works, princess.”

Jay appears in the doorway a heartbeat later, arms crossed over his chest, shoulder propped against the frame, eyes raking over you with that cool, assessing hunger that always makes your stomach flip. He takes his time stepping inside, shutting the door behind him with a quiet snick, the lock clicking into place like a promise.

You try to push yourself up on your elbows, instinct, nerves, the sudden awareness of how exposed and messy you are, but Sunghoon’s large hand plants flat on your sternum and pushes you right back down into the mattress. Firm. Unyielding. Possessive.

“Stay right there,” he says softly, almost sweet, but the edge underneath it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “We’re not done with you yet.”

Jay stops at the foot of the bed, looking down at the obscene picture you make: completely naked, skin flushed pink, thighs shiny with slick and cum, nipples tight and begging, pussy puffy and still leaking. He reaches out, fingers threading through the hair at your scalp, tightening until your breath hitches. He yanks your head back just enough to expose the long line of your throat, thumb stroking once over your racing pulse.

“You let him fuck you raw the second we left,” Jay says, voice low and dangerously even. “Without asking. Without waiting. Without even a text to let us know our pretty little slut was getting her cunt filled.”

His free hand slides down your body, possessive, claiming, cupping your soaked pussy like it belongs to him. Two thick fingers push inside without warning, rough and deep, curling hard against that spot that makes white sparks burst behind your eyes. You cry out, hips jerking, walls fluttering greedily around the intrusion.

Sunghoon watches with a mean little smile, one hand lazily stroking his own thick cock. “This pussy,” Jay continues, voice dropping to a growl as he pumps his fingers faster, “is ours. All of ours. You don’t get to decide who fills it first when we’re not here. Understand?”

You nod frantically, tears of overwhelming pleasure already pricking your eyes. “Y-yes—fuck—yes, it’s yours—”

Sunghoon’s hand replaces Jay’s on your throat, long fingers wrapping around the column, squeezing just enough to make the edges of your vision sparkle and your cunt gush around Jay’s fingers. Not cutting off air. Just reminding you who’s in control.

“Good girl,” Sunghoon breathes against your ear, leaning down to bite your earlobe. “Now prove it.”

They move like they’ve choreographed this a hundred times in their heads.

Jay flips you onto your stomach in one smooth motion, face pressed into the sheets that already smell like sex, ass up high, back arched deep. He keeps one hand fisted tight in your hair, yanking your head back until your spine bends in that perfect, aching curve. Sunghoon shoves your thighs wider apart, knees sinking into the mattress as he kneels behind you. His cock is flushed dark, angry, veins throbbing, pre-cum beading at the tip as he lines up and slams in, deep, brutal, one single punishing thrust that punches the air straight out of your lungs.

You scream into the sheets, the stretch burning so good it borders on too much. Sunghoon doesn’t give you time to adjust. He sets a ruthless pace immediately, hips snapping forward, balls slapping wetly against your clit with every brutal drive, the wet squelch of your cum-filled pussy echoing obscenely. Jay releases your hair only to wrap his hand around your throat from the front instead, squeezing in perfect time with Sunghoon’s thrusts, thumb pressing under your jaw so you feel every heartbeat.

“Take it,” Jay growls, voice rough with arousal. “Every fucking inch. You wanted cock so bad you couldn’t even wait for all of us? Then you’re gonna take everything we give you, princess. Gonna let us ruin this greedy little hole until you remember who it belongs to.”

Sunghoon leans over your back, chest slick with sweat against your spine, one hand fisting your hair now while the other reaches around to slap your clit, sharp, stinging little taps that make you clench and sob. Jay’s free hand comes down hard on your ass, once, twice, three times, each smack leaving a bright red handprint that blooms hot across your skin.

“Whose pussy is this?” Jay demands, voice low and filthy.

“Yours—” you sob, voice cracking. “Yours—fuck—yours—Sunghoon—Jay—please—”

Sunghoon yanks your head back harder, lips brushing your ear as he pounds into you. “Say it louder. Let the whole fucking apartment hear who owns this cunt.”

The rhythmic slap of skin on skin, your choked moans, Sunghoon’s low possessive growls—“This tight little pussy is fucking mine”—carry clearly down the hallway.

In the living room, Heeseung has Jake pinned against the wall by the collar, fist raised, knuckles white with restraint. The first muffled scream from the bedroom makes them both freeze. Then another, higher, broken, needy. The unmistakable wet slap of Sunghoon’s hips. Jay’s dark chuckle. Your desperate, gagged whimpers around whatever they’re doing to your mouth now.

Heeseung’s fist slowly lowers. Jake’s eyes go wide, cock twitching visibly in his sweats.

Heeseung turns toward the bedroom door, expression unreadable but eyes burning.

Then they’re both moving, fast. 

They burst through the door just as Sunghoon buries himself to the hilt with a guttural groan. You’re a complete wreck: face down, ass up, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth, tears streaking your cheeks, ass glowing red from Jay’s handprints, cunt stretched obscenely around Sunghoon’s thick cock, creamy cum from Jake and your own slick coating your thighs.

Heeseung stops at the foot of the bed, takes one long, possessive look at the scene, then climbs on without a word. 

“Move,” he tells Sunghoon, voice low and lethal.

Sunghoon slows just enough to pull out with a wet, filthy pop, thick strings of cum and slick connecting his cock to your gaping hole. Heeseung grabs your hips, flips you onto your back like you weigh nothing, and hooks your legs over his arms, folding you in half until your knees are by your ears. He lines up and slams in, harder, deeper, angrier than Sunghoon, bottoming out in one brutal thrust that makes you scream his name.

Jay pulls back from where he’d been feeding you his cock, letting you gasp for air, then moves behind you. Sunghoon shifts to your side, hand wrapping around your throat again, thumb stroking your pulse almost tenderly now.

Jay presses the blunt head of his cock against your ass, already slick from the mess dripping down, and pushes in slow, relentless, the burn intense and overwhelming as he stretches you open around him. Heeseung stays buried to the hilt in your pussy, holding perfectly still while Jay sinks deeper, until both of them are fully seated inside you, rubbing against each other through the thin wall, filling you so completely you can feel them in your throat.

You’re sobbing, overwhelmed, stretched to your limit, pleasure so sharp it hurts, in the best possible way.

“Breathe, baby,” Sunghoon murmurs, voice softer now, fingers loosening just enough on your throat. “You’re taking us so fucking well. Such a good girl for us.”

They start moving, slow at first, testing, letting you adjust to the impossible fullness. Then harder. Deeper. Alternating thrusts, Heeseung driving in while Jay pulls out, Jay slamming home while Heeseung retreats, until the rhythm syncs and they’re both fucking into you at the same time, stretching you open on two thick cocks with every synchronized thrust.

Jake stands frozen by the door, cock rock-hard again, hand wrapped tight around it, stroking himself slow and desperate, eyes wide and glassy with guilt and raw arousal. Sunghoon notices. His voice cuts through the wet sounds of flesh. “Watch, Jake. You started this. Now you get to watch how we remind her exactly who she belongs to.”

Jay’s fingers find your swollen, oversensitive clit, rubbing fast, rough circles that make your vision spark white.

“Come,” he orders, voice rough. “Come on both our cocks. Milk us. Show us who this perfect body belongs to.”

You shatter harder than you ever have, screaming, back bowing, spasming violently around both cocks, gushing slick down Heeseung’s shaft as your orgasm rips through you in endless waves. Heeseung comes first with a deep, broken growl of your name, flooding your pussy with hot, thick pulses. Jay follows seconds later, burying himself deep in your ass and filling you with rope after rope until it leaks out around his base. Sunghoon strokes himself twice, fast and rough, then spills across your stomach and tits in long, creamy stripes, marking you visibly.

They don’t pull out right away.

Just stay buried deep inside you, panting, sweating, chests heaving, holding you between them like something precious and thoroughly, beautifully ruined.

Heeseung leans down first, pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your tear-streaked cheek. “Mine,” he whispers against your skin.

Jay echoes it against your shoulder, lips brushing the fresh bite mark Sunghoon left earlier. “Mine.”

Sunghoon’s fingers loosen completely on your throat, turning into gentle strokes along your jaw. “Mine too, princess. Always.”

You’re trembling, wrecked, full to overflowing, claimed in every possible way. And Jake, still standing by the door, cock leaking in his fist, eyes shiny with regret and desperate need, looks like he’s never wanted forgiveness more in his life.

The entire room smells like sex and sweat and something deeper, something dangerously close to devotion. None of them move to let you go. Not yet.

The room is thick with the aftermath, sweat, sex, the faint metallic tang of overstimulation hanging in the air like smoke. Your body feels liquid and heavy, every muscle spent, every inch of skin marked in some way: fingerprints blooming on your hips, faint red lines from Sunghoon’s grip on your throat, the slow leak of them all still inside you, warm and obscene between your thighs.

No one moves right away.

Heeseung is the first to shift. He eases out of you carefully, slow, deliberate, hissing softly at the drag. Jay follows, pulling out with the same measured gentleness, both of them watching your face for any flicker of pain. Sunghoon’s hand leaves your throat last, fingers trailing down your sternum in a soothing path before he sits back on his heels.

You’re trembling, small, involuntary shivers that ripple through you like aftershocks. Jay notices first. He reaches over the side of the bed, grabs the soft throw blanket that’s been kicked to the floor sometime in the last hour. Drapes it over your lower half, tucking it around your waist like he’s wrapping something fragile.

“Easy,” he murmurs. Voice low, rough from use. “We’ve got you.”

Heeseung slides off the bed, still naked, still glistening, and disappears into the en-suite bathroom. Water runs. A minute later he returns with two warm, damp cloths. One for your face, one for between your legs.

He kneels beside you. Presses the cloth to your cheek first, gentle swipes over tear tracks, then your swollen lips. You lean into it without thinking. Heeseung’s free hand cups the back of your head, thumb stroking the base of your skull in slow circles.

Sunghoon moves to your other side. Takes the second cloth from Heeseung when he’s done with your face. Parts your thighs carefully, murmurs a soft “shh” when you flinch at the cool air, and cleans you with careful strokes. Between your folds, down your thighs, over the sticky mess on your stomach and chest. He’s thorough. Patient. Every pass of the cloth feels like an apology he doesn’t know how to say out loud.

Jake is still hovering near the door, shirtless now, sweats low on his hips, looking like he’s not sure he’s allowed to come closer. Heeseung glances at him once. Sharp. Then softer.

“Water,” Heeseung says. Not an order. Just a word. Jake nods, quick, grateful, and bolts. Heeseung turns back to you.

“Can you sit up a little?” You nod, weak, but willing. Jay helps, arm around your shoulders, easing you against the headboard. Pillows get rearranged behind your back until you’re propped comfortably. The blanket stays tucked around your waist; someone (Sunghoon) pulls the sheet up to cover your chest without smothering you.

Jake returns with a tall glass of water and, somehow, a small tray he must have grabbed from the kitchen. On it: a bowl of cut fruit (strawberries, mango, grapes, someone’s idea of “recovery food”), a few pieces of the chocolate they keep stashed in the fridge, a packet of electrolyte powder already stirred into a second glass.

He sets it on the nightstand. Doesn’t try to climb on the bed yet. Just stands there, hands in his pockets, looking at you like you might vanish if he blinks.

Jay picks up a strawberry first. Holds it to your lips.

“Open.”

You do. The fruit is cold, sweet, bursting on your tongue. Jay feeds you slowly, another strawberry, then a piece of mango. His fingers brush your bottom lip each time, wiping away juice with his thumb.

Sunghoon takes over with the chocolate. Breaks off a small square, places it on your tongue. Watches you melt it slowly, eyes dark but soft.

“You did so good,” he says quietly. Almost to himself. “Took everything we gave you.”

Heeseung handles the water, holds the glass to your lips, tips it carefully so you can sip without spilling. When you’ve had enough, he sets it aside and wipes your mouth with the edge of the sheet.

Jake finally moves closer, slow, like he’s approaching something skittish. He perches on the very edge of the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” he says. Voice small. “For earlier. For not waiting. For—” Heeseung cuts him off with a look. Not angry. Tired.

“Later,” Heeseung says. “She needs rest now.” Jake nods. Swallows hard. Jay reaches over, squeezes Jake’s shoulder once, firm, forgiving, then turns back to you.

“More?” he asks, nodding at the tray.

You shake your head. Full. Heavy-lidded. The ache between your legs has dulled to a low, satisfied throb; your limbs feel like warm honey.

Sunghoon takes the tray away. Sets it on the dresser.

Heeseung pulls the covers up higher, tucking them around your shoulders, smoothing the fabric over your chest. Jay adjusts the pillows again so you’re lying flat but elevated just enough. They surround you, four bodies, four sources of warmth, without crowding.

Heeseung lies on your left. Arm draped loosely over your waist. Not possessive. Protective. Jay on your right. Hand resting on your hip under the blanket. Thumb stroking idle arcs. Sunghoon stretches out at the foot of the bed, long legs hanging off the edge, head pillowed on your thigh like it’s the most natural place in the world.

Jake curls up against your legs, face tucked into the crook of your knee, one arm thrown over your shins like he’s anchoring himself there. No one speaks for a long minute. Just breathing. Slow. In sync.

Heeseung’s fingers find yours under the blanket. Laces them together. Squeezes once. “Sleep,” he murmurs against your temple. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Jay presses a kiss to your shoulder, soft, lingering. Sunghoon’s hand strokes down your calf, slow, soothing.

Jake mumbles something sleepy against your skin, too quiet to catch, but it feels like “thank you.” Your eyes flutter closed. The room smells like them, all of them, mixed with clean sheets and the faint sweetness of fruit. Just warm bodies. Gentle hands. Quiet promises. And the steady rhythm of four heartbeats lulling you under.

The idea starts innocently enough.

It’s been three days since the jealousy the three had that they claimed was just ‘heat of the moment’ but you knew better, and the apartment has settled into something dangerously close to domestic. Mornings are soft now, coffee passed hand-to-hand, lazy kisses traded over toast, rules quietly ignored unless someone’s feeling particularly mean. The fridge note is still taped up, but no one’s enforced them. It’s almost… normal.

Almost. Jay is the one who brings it up first. You’re sprawled across his lap on the sectional Sunday afternoon, legs tangled with Sunghoon’s, Jake’s head pillowed on your stomach while Heeseung scrolls through takeout apps from the armchair. Jay’s fingers are tracing idle patterns on your bare thigh, higher than friendly,lower than any action, when he says it.

“I want to take you out.”

The room stills. You lift your head from Jake’s hair. “Like… a date?” Jay’s mouth quirks. “Yeah. A date. Just you and me. Dinner. Somewhere nice. No roommates crashing.”

Sunghoon snorts without looking up from his phone. “Good luck with that.”

Heeseung glances over the top of his screen. “You’re asking permission?”

Jay shrugs. “I’m telling you. Friday night. She’s mine for the evening.”

Jake sits up slowly, blinking sleep from his eyes. “Wait—solo? Like, no sharing?”

Jay’s hand tightens on your thigh. “No sharing. One night. My rules.”

You feel the shift immediately, the air thickening with something possessive and unspoken. Heeseung’s jaw ticks once. Sunghoon finally looks up, eyes narrowing. Jake just pouts. But no one argues. Friday comes fast.

Jay picks the restaurant himself, small, upscale Italian place downtown. Dim lighting, velvet booths, candles that cost more than your old rent. He texts you the address at 6:45 p.m. sharp.

Jay: Wear something pretty baby ;) preferably no panties sweetheart

You roll your eyes at the winky face and the last obligation, but you obey anyway.

The dress is black, silk, short enough to make you nervous when you sit. Heels that click satisfyingly on the pavement. Hair down, lips red. When Jay arrives to pick you up, he stops dead in the doorway.

“Fuck,” he breathes. Steps close. Cups your face with both hands and kisses you slow, deep, claiming, tasting like mint and want. “You’re killing me.”

The drive is quiet. His hand rests high on your thigh the whole way, thumb stroking the inside seam, never quite reaching where you’re already wet. He doesn’t speak. Just smiles every time you squirm.

The restaurant is perfect.

A corner booth. Wine list thicker than a novel. Jay orders for both of you, pasta, seared scallops, tiramisu for later. His knee presses against yours under the table. His fingers brush yours when he passes the bread. It feels… romantic. Normal. Like you’re a real couple on a real date.

You’re laughing at some stupid story he’s telling about Sunghoon trying to cook once when the first text comes through.

Jake: picture of him pouting on the couch  

Jake: miss u already princess 😩

You snort. Show Jay. He rolls his eyes. “Ignore them.”

Another buzz.

Sunghoon: timestamped selfie, him shirtless in the kitchen, knife in hand, looking bored  

Sunghoon: hurry up. food’s getting cold here

Jay exhales through his nose. “They’re children.” Heeseung’s text is last.

Heeseung: Enjoy your date. We’ll behave.  

Heeseung: …mostly.

Your not sure what that means, you’re not sure if you want to find out. You laugh, soft, nervous, and slip your phone face-down. Jay reaches across the table. Takes your hand. Laces your fingers. “I meant it,” he says quietly. “Tonight’s just us. No crashing. No rules. Just you and me.”

You believe him. For about seven more minutes. The scallops arrive. Perfectly seared. You’re mid-bite when the restaurant door opens. And four familiar silhouettes step inside. Jake first, grinning like he invented mischief. Sunghoon behind him, hands in pockets, expression unreadable. Heeseung last, calm, collected, scanning the room until his eyes land on you.

Jay’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth.

“Motherfuckers,” he mutters.

They don’t hesitate. Jake slides into the booth beside you first, arm slung casually over the backrest, fingers immediately finding the nape of your neck. “Hey, princess. Fancy seeing you here.”

Sunghoon takes the seat next to Jay, long legs stretching out, forcing Jay to shift. “Nice place. Bit pretentious, though.”

Heeseung pulls up a chair from a nearby table, unapologetic, sits at the end like he owns the booth. “We were in the neighborhood.”

Jay’s jaw is so tight you’re worried it’ll crack.

“You said you would behave.”

Heeseung shrugs. “We are. We’re not fucking her on the table. Yet.”

Your face burns. Jake laughs, bright, delighted, leans in and kisses your cheek. Loud. Wet. “You look so pretty. Red lipstick’s a nice touch.”

Sunghoon reaches across Jay to steal a scallop off your plate. “He’s right. You do look fuckable.” Jay slams his fork down.

“That’s enough.” The table goes quiet.

Jay’s voice is low. Dangerous. “I said one night. Just me and her. You had your turns. Back off.”

Heeseung leans forward. Elbows on the table. “We’re not here to take her. We’re here to watch you try to have her all to yourself.” His gaze flicks to you, dark, heated. “And see how long it takes before she’s begging for the rest of us.”

Jake’s fingers tighten on your neck. “C’mon, hyung. Don’t be dramatic. We can share the appetizer.”

Sunghoon smirks. “Or the main course.”

You’re throbbing under the table. The silk dress feels too tight. The wine too warm in your veins. Jay looks at you, really looks. “Are you okay with this?”

You swallow. Meet his eyes. Then glance at the others. Then back to him. “I’m okay,” you whisper. “But… maybe we skip dessert here.”

Jay exhales, half-laugh, half-snarl. “Bathroom,” he says. “Now.” He stands. Pulls you up with him. The others don’t move. They just exchange knowing glances. Jake just grins. “We’ll keep watch.”

Jay drags you through the restaurant, hand firm on your lower back, past the bar, down the narrow hallway, into the single-stall bathroom at the end.

He locks the door. Spins you around. Pushes you forward until your palms slap the sink. The mirror is huge. You watch your own reflection, lips parted, chest heaving, dress already rucked up to your hips.

Jay’s behind you, fly open, cock hard and leaking. He doesn’t speak. Just yanks your dress higher, notches himself at your entrance, and thrusts in, hard. Deep. One brutal stroke that makes you cry out.

“Quiet,” he growls against your ear. Hand clamps over your mouth. “They can hear.” He fucks you like he’s proving a point. Fast. Rough. Hips snapping. The sink rattles. Your tits bounce with every thrust. His other hand fists your hair, yanks your head back so you’re watching yourself in the mirror.

“Look at you,” he pants. “Taking it so good. Even when they crash. Even when I try to keep you to myself.”

You moan into his palm, muffled, desperate.

He reaches around. Finds your clit. Pinches. Rolls. Hard.

“Come,” he orders. “Come on my cock before they barge in.”

You do, fast, violent, clenching around him so hard he swears. He follows seconds later, burying deep, spilling hot inside you with a choked groan.

He doesn’t pull out right away. Just holds you there, chest to your back,breathing ragged. Then he kisses your shoulder. Soft. Apologetic. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “Couldn’t help it.” You laugh, shaky, wrecked.

He pulls out slowly. Fixes your dress. Wipes between your thighs with paper towels from the dispenser. When you open the door, Jake’s leaning against the opposite wall. Arms crossed. Smirking. “Took you long enough.”

Jay glares. Jake pushes off the wall. Steps close. Kisses you, quick, filthy, tasting Jay on your tongue. “My turn to watch the door,” he says. “Go wait in the car. Round two’s on us.”

Jay takes your hand. Leads you out, past the hostess who definitely knows what just happened, into the cool night air.

The car is parked in the back lot, tinted windows, engine already running. Sunghoon’s in the driver’s seat. Heeseung in the passenger. Both turn when you climb in the back. Sunghoon’s eyes drop to the wet spot on your dress. Smiles, slow, predatory.

“Missed the show?” Heeseung reaches back. Pulls you onto his lap. “Plenty of time for round two,” he murmurs against your neck. Jay slides in beside you. Jake climbs in last, locks the doors. The engine starts. And the night? The night is far from over.

The black SUV idles in the shadowed back lot behind the restaurant, engine a low, steady rumble beneath the distant pulse of music leaking from the outdoor speakers. Tinted windows seal the interior into a private world, leather seats already radiating warmth, the air heavy with Jay’s cologne, the sharp bite of expensive whiskey on their breath, and the unmistakable, intimate musk of sex that still clings to your skin.

You’re straddling Heeseung in the center of the back seat, silk dress shoved up around your waist, thighs spread wide over his hips. His dark jeans are damp where your leaking cunt has pressed against him. Heeseung doesn’t flinch. His hands are beneath the fabric, broad palms cupping your bare ass, fingers spreading you open with deliberate care, holding you exposed and vulnerable in the dim glow filtering through the windows.

Jay sits to your left, shirt untucked, collarbones still flushed, lips swollen and red from the way he’d fucked you against the marble sink in the bathroom minutes earlier. Sunghoon occupies the right side, long legs stretched out, one hand already working the thick outline of his cock through tailored slacks, eyes fixed on the sight between your thighs. Jake has twisted around in the front passenger seat, forearm braced on the headrest, gaze dark and unblinking.

For several long seconds, no one speaks.

Only the rhythm of heavy breathing, the soft creak of leather as bodies shift, the faint metallic tick of the cooling engine. Then Heeseung’s voice, low, gravel-rough, breaks the silence against the shell of your ear.

“You’re still dripping him,” he murmurs, one hand sliding from your ass to slip between your legs from behind. Two fingers push into the slick, swollen heat of your cunt, gathering Jay’s release and pressing it back inside with slow, unhurried strokes. The wet sound is obscene in the confined space. “Can feel it leaking out. Can’t let that go to waste.”

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up, inner walls fluttering, a soft, helpless whimper slipping past your lips as your hips twitch forward. Jay’s hand joins Heeseung’s without hesitation. Four fingers now, stretching you wider, scooping the thick cum deeper, curling against the front wall until your breath hitches sharply.

“He’s right,” Jay says, voice quiet but edged with something darker, more possessive. “We should keep you full. All night. Every time one of us finishes, the next one pushes it right back in.”

Sunghoon leans in closer, breath ghosting hot along the side of your neck. His voice is velvet and steel. “Full until it takes. Until you’re so thoroughly bred there’s no question who put it there.”

The words hit like a physical blow, low in your belly, sharp and electric. Your cunt clenches hard around their fingers, a fresh gush of slick coating their knuckles.

Jake’s eyes widen in the front seat. “Fuck—did you just—”

“I said,” Sunghoon repeats, slower, darker, each syllable deliberate, “full until it takes. Until this perfect little cunt is swollen and leaking and carrying exactly what we give it.”

Heeseung’s free hand slides up to cradle the front of your throat, not squeezing, simply holding, thumb resting over your racing pulse. “You like that thought, don’t you?” he asks softly, lips brushing the sensitive skin behind your ear. “All four of us pumping you full, one right after the other. No pulling out. No wasting a single drop. Just letting it stay deep until your body has no choice but to keep it.”

You nod, frantic, tears already gathering at the corners of your eyes because the fantasy is suddenly too vivid, too real, too close to everything your body has been silently begging for.

Jay’s fingers crook harder, pressing ruthlessly against that spot that makes your vision blur. “Use your words.” 

“I want it,” you gasp, voice cracking. “Want you to, to breed me. Fill me until I can’t take any more. Until it’s all inside me. Please—”

A chorus of low, guttural groans fills the car. Heeseung lifts you just high enough to shove his jeans and briefs down his thighs. His cock springs free, thick, flushed dark, already leaking at the tip. He doesn’t tease. He simply guides you down onto him in one long, controlled descent, stretching you open around his length until your ass meets his hips and he’s buried to the hilt.

You cry out, head falling back against his shoulder, nails digging into his forearms.

“That’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take every inch. Take every fucking drop I’m about to give you.” He begins to move, deep, rolling thrusts that grind the head of his cock against your cervix with punishing precision. Jay’s hand stays between your legs, fingers circling your clit in tight, relentless loops while Heeseung fucks up into you with measured force.

Sunghoon has already freed himself completely, long, elegant fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking slowly, eyes never leaving the place where Heeseung disappears inside you over and over. “My turn comes next,” he says, voice low and certain. “I’m going to add to it. Make sure nothing escapes.”

Jake’s hand is inside his own pants now, stroking himself in perfect time with Heeseung’s rhythm, breath coming in short, ragged pants. “Look at her,” he mutters, almost reverent. “So fucking desperate to be filled. Greedy little thing.”

Heeseung’s pace builds, hips snapping up harder, faster, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the car. “I’m going to come inside you,” he warns, voice strained. “Going to flood this tight cunt until it’s overflowing. You ready for it?”

“Yes—please—Heeseung—”

He buries himself as deep as possible and comes with a long, broken groan, hot, thick pulses painting your walls, filling you so completely you feel the pressure build behind your navel. Even as you clench down hard, trying to keep it all in, the excess begins to leak out around his base, coating his balls and dripping onto the leather.

He doesn’t pull out. He simply holds you there, still hard, still buried deep, while Jay shifts.

Jay moves to kneel on the seat beside you, one knee braced against the cushion. He nudges Heeseung’s softening length aside just enough to press his own cock against your already-stretched entrance. The stretch is immediate, two thick cocks forcing their way inside the same slick channel, rubbing against each other through the thin barrier of your walls. You scream, muffled against Heeseung’s shoulder, body shaking violently.

Jay fucks into you with short, brutal thrusts, the friction almost unbearable. “This pussy is going to take all of us tonight,” he growls, voice rough with possession. “Going to be so full of cum you’ll feel it moving inside you every time you breathe.”

Sunghoon reaches over, fingers finding your clit again, pinching, rolling, tugging, pushing you higher and higher while Jay pounds relentlessly.

The orgasm crashes through you without warning, sharp, blinding, walls spasming so violently around both cocks that Jay swears under his breath. His hips stutter, then slam forward one last time as he comes, hot spurts mixing with Heeseung’s release until you’re overflowing, thick rivulets running down your thighs and soaking the seat beneath you.

Sunghoon doesn’t give you time to recover.

He yanks you off both of them, strong hands manhandling you onto all fours across the wide back seat, ass presented high, face pressed into Heeseung’s lap. He lines up and drives in with one punishing thrust, burying himself to the hilt in a single motion that forces the air from your lungs.

“This cunt is getting bred tonight,” he snarls, voice low and dangerous. “I’m going to pump you so full you’ll be leaking for days. Every step you take tomorrow, you’ll feel us still inside you.”

He fucks like it’s a claiming, like he needs to imprint himself deeper than the others. One hand fists your hair, yanking your head back until your spine arches sharply. The car rocks with the force of his thrusts.

Jake climbs over the center console into the back, kneeling in front of your face. He guides his cock to your lips. You open for him immediately, taking him deep, sucking with sloppy, desperate hunger while Sunghoon rails you from behind.

Sunghoon comes with a guttural sound, hips locked flush against your ass, flooding you with another hot load until it spills out around his base and runs in sticky trails down your inner thighs.

Jake pulls free from your mouth, strokes himself twice, and spills across your lower back in thick, warm ropes, marking your skin. They rotate again, Heeseung sliding back in, then Jay, then Sunghoon, each one adding more, fucking it deeper, pushing it against your cervix with every thrust until you’re trembling, sobbing, body overwhelmed and exquisitely full.

When the final round ends, Sunghoon pulling out with a wet, filthy sound, a fresh gush of cum following, your legs give out completely. You collapse forward onto Heeseung’s chest, shaking, panting, utterly spent.

Jay reaches into the center console and withdraws a small black velvet pouch. Inside are three plugs, smooth black silicone, flared bases, graduated sizes. Heeseung selects the largest, coats it generously in the creamy mess still leaking from you, then presses the blunt tip against your swollen entrance.

“Gonna keep every drop where it belongs,” he murmurs, voice soft now, almost reverent. He works the plug in slowly, watching your face the entire time, until it pops past the rim and settles deep, the weight immediate and grounding.

Jay takes the smaller one, slicks it with the same care, and presses it gently but firmly into your ass. The dual fullness is overwhelming, possessive, complete.

Sunghoon cleans between your thighs with a packet of wipes from the glovebox, slow, careful strokes that feel almost tender after everything. Then he helps you sit up, smoothing your dress back down over your hips, fingers combing gently through your tangled hair. The car falls quiet again. They surround you, Heeseung’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, Jay’s hand resting warm and steady on your thigh, Sunghoon’s fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm, Jake leaning over the seat to press close from the front. After a long stretch of silence, Jake speaks, voice quieter than you’ve ever heard it. “We don’t want anyone else,” he says simply. “Not ever. Not like this.”

Jay nods once. “You’re not just something we fuck. You’re ours. Completely. For everything.”

Sunghoon’s fingertips brush the line of your jaw, tilting your face toward him. “We thought we could keep it light. Keep some distance. Pretend it didn’t matter.” He exhales, the sound almost pained. “We were wrong.”

Heeseung’s hold tightens, lips brushing your temple. “No one else touches you. No one else fills you. No one else gets to love you the way we do.” The word, love,lands soft and heavy, undeniable. You turn your face into the warm curve of Heeseung’s neck, feel the first tear slip free, not from pain, not from overwhelm, but from the sudden, terrifying certainty that this is exactly where you want to be.

“I don’t want anyone else either,” you whisper against his skin. They exhale as one, like they’ve been waiting weeks to hear it. Jake leans farther over the seat, presses a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good.” Jay draws you closer, tucking your head beneath his chin.

Sunghoon drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, still warm from his body, carrying his scent. Heeseung climbs over the console, settling in the driver’s seat, he glances up at you through the rear view mirror, starts the engine, and pulls out of the lot with careful precision. The drive home is quiet. The plugs shift inside you with every turn, constant, heavy reminders. Their hands stay on you, gentle now, grounding.

When you reach the apartment they carry you inside, Heeseung’s arms strong and sure, straight to the largest bed. They undress you slowly, silk peeled away, heels slipped off, every movement careful and deliberate. They clean you again, warm washcloths, soft touches that linger.

Then they slide into bed around you, skin on skin, bodies fitting together like they were made for it. Heeseung at your front, chest pressed to yours, one leg thrown possessively over your hip. Jay at your back, arm wrapped securely around your waist, lips brushing your shoulder. Sunghoon curled lower, head resting on your thigh, long fingers tracing soothing circles. Jake pressed to your side, fingers laced tightly with yours.

No words. Just the slow, even rhythm of their breathing syncing with yours. Until the plugs feel less like possession and more like quiet promise. Until sleep finally claims you, safe, full, irrevocably claimed. Your dreams aren’t about running. They’re about staying.

perm taglist:

“you like Heeseung, don’t you?”

Don’t even answer, your brain said, is the same thing every time.

“what does he want now?” you answered to his best friend, Jake.

“you know, the usual, he wants you.” Jake said, taking a sip of his drink.

you scoffed, it was the same situation over and over again. “really? so why doesn’t Heeseung come and say it to my face?”

“you know how he is, y/n. he doesn’t want to drag any attention. well…if you’re interested” he paused. “go upstairs to the second room to the left, you’ll see us there.” he finished his drink and left without even hearing your answer.

you’ve known Jake and Heeseung for a while, they were your classmates last year at uni. the golden boys at the campus, smarts, athletics, charming and very good looking. any girl with a right state of mind wouldn’t deny a chance to be with one of them.

you liked Heeseung, he was hot. his charming smile and the way his eyes looked at you every time you two talked, it was inevitable not to fall for him. he was just so likable.

Jake on the other hand, was a little more quiet. his friendly personality made you talk to him for and assignment and since then you two became good friends.

you and Heeseung had been together before, more than you want to admit. the two of you made out last year at a party and since then, he hasn’t let you go. you knew it was stupid of you to keep hooking up with him, he wasn’t a man of serious relationships, but he made feel so good every single time. he didn’t like to be seen with you either, you were his little secret.

it was exhausting even, texting you at 1 am, him just wanting to get a sneak of you panties. but you never said no, how could you ever say no to him? surely not when he send you a picture of his throbbing cock inside his pants.

you look down to your hand, the alcohol on you cup now almost completely gone. fuck it, you thought. you finished your drink and started to walk, evading all the drunk and dancing people on your way. when you make it upstairs, the first thing that caught your attention was Jake, who was standing in front of the door he mention.

“you came.” he said, a playful smirk in his face.

“yeah well, how surprising.” you answered sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him. “where is he?”

“inside. waiting for you.”

“and what are you doing here?”

“oh, i’m the one on watch.” Jake signaled the door. “you know, just in case anyone tries to come in.”

“wow, thanks for your support.”

“always.” he chuckled.

Jake opened the door for you, revealing an obviously drunk Heeseung sitting at the end of the bed. you stepped inside, your heart suddenly beating faster just by looking at him.

“hey…” you called his attention, closing the door behind you.

“fuck” Heeseung said, standing from the bed and walking impossibly closer to you. “i’ve been waiting for like—hours.”

“Heeseung, i’m done, okay? you just call me when your drunk and hor—” you couldn’t finish your sentence, his lips were already crashing into yours.

his hands grabbed your waist, you ass, your words suddenly getting caught in your throat. you put your hands on his neck, pulling him even closer than he already was.

“why are you here then? huh.” he said, his lips almost touching yours. “you want this too, so stop complaining.”

he kissed you again, harder. tongues dancing with each other, teeth touching here and there. Heeseung pulled you up, you legs naturally tangling to his waist. your back hit the mattress, Heeseung’s lips coming down from your mouth to your neck. you moan softly, the sensation making the pool between your legs even more obvious.

“see? you enjoy this, you enjoy being my dirty little secret…”

you moaned, his lips sucking that particular spot that made you see stars. his kisses traveled down to your collarbone, pulling down your tube tank top to reveal your now hard nipples.

“shit baby, never gonna get tired of this big tits. fuck.” his mouth circled one of your nipples while his hand was grabbing harshly at your other tit.

“heeseung, please…” you cried. your hips bucking up trying to feel any kind of friction.

“what do you want baby?” he answered, grabbing both of your tits and giggling them on his face.

“just—touch me.”

“want me to touch you? want me to make you feel good?” he chuckled. “your always so desperate, y/n”

“just shut up.”

“take off your clothes.”

Heeseung got off you, giving you enough space for you to undress. you took off your top, then your pants and finally your soaking wet panties.

“shit your just so perfect.” Heeseung said, his eyes roaming every single part of your body. “lay down.”

you did as he said. he kissed your tits one last time before traveling down to you stomach, kissing softly the flesh. his lips ghosted over your core, shivers running down your spine. his finger parted your pussy lips, collecting all you juices on his finger.

“so wet… always dripping just for me.”

“Hee, please.” you begged. “please, i’m so soaked.”

“oh, but weren’t you tired of this?” he asked. “that’s what your pretty little mouth said a few minutes ago.”

“i’m sorry.” you cried. “i’m so, so, so sorry, Heeseung. please…”

Heeseung couldn’t hold it anymore, and neither did you. his mouth found your clit, making you gasp in surprise. his tongue lapped all over your wet cunt, squelching sounds being the only thing you could hear.

his finger padded your entrance, his saliva and your arousal mixing on his digit. he put it inside, the feeling of his skilled mouth and his finger being just too much.

“fuck—yeah, just like that.” you moaned.

“you like it, baby? you like when I eat you out?” he answered, his eyes locked into yours.

“yes, yes.” you breathed out.

he added a second fingers, curling them and touching that sweet spot inside you that he knew oh so well.

“touch your tits for me, okay?” Heeseung demanded, the vibrations of his voice making you clench around him.

both of your hands went to grab your tits, pinching and twirling your hard nipples. Heeseung liked when you did this, he loved it.

his fingers started to pump faster, his tongue circling and sucking harshly at your clit. your orgasm started to build, that euphoric feeling on your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

“i’m gonna cum.” you gasped, pressing both of your breasts impossibly together.

“c’mon baby, cum on my tongue.”

the coil on you belly was about to snap, when suddenly the door opened. Jake stepped inside and closed the door behind him. panic rushed into your body, nervousness and embarrassment blooming in your eyes. Jake was seeing you completely naked.

“Heeseung…Jake is watching.”

“just focus on me, y/n.” he answered.

“but—”

he gave you a particular thrust with his finger that made you see starts, the coil on your belly snapping and you orgasm hitting you like a truck. you gasped, your hands grabbing harshly at your tits.

“that’s it…” he praised. “good fucking girl.”

you closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath. Jake’s presence alarmed you again, you sat up on the bed, closing your legs and covering your breasts with your arms.

“what the fuck, Jake? Heeseung, do something!” you exclaimed.

“shh, calm down y/n. Jake’s gonna make us some company tonigh, isn’t that right Jake?”

“yeah…we figured out that you would like that.” Jake answered, stepping closer to the bed.

“what…?” you said, your voice sounding almost like a whisper.

“just sit back and relax, okay?” he sat in the bed. “everything’s gonna be just fine.”

his face came closer to yours, your froze. what in the world is happening? Jake was hot, yeah, you couldn’t deny that. but why was he here right now?

he kissed you, and of course you kissed him back. the shyness left your body, exposing your parts all over again. Jake moved you to his lap, your sensitive cunt crashing on his crotch.

his mouth moved messily over yours, drool spilling down your chin. his hands grabbed your tits, twirling softly your nipples between your fingers. you moaned, hips moving involuntarily over his clothed dick.

“wait—” you said, turning your head and looking over your shoulder. “what about Heeseung?”

“s’okay baby, don’t worry about me right now. focus on Jake, okay?” he answered, sitting on the chair in front of the bed. he pulled his pants and boxers down, revealing his hard, throbbing cock. Heeseung let a fat drop of drool fall into his shaft, using as lubrication to touch his dick.

you dragged your attention back to Jake, capturing his lips one more time. his hands travelled down your hips, helping you move them over his crotch. your breath hitched, the sensation almost too overstimulating due to your previous orgasm.

“you gonna let me fuck you raw, baby?” Jake asked, puppy eyes looking directly at yours.

“mhm” you nodded. your mind too blurry to even form a proper thought.

“lay on your back for me, will you.” he replied.

you did as he said, moving apart from his lap and laying on the bed. your eyes caught a glimpse of Heeseung, his hand moving quickly up and down his big cock.

Jake took his shirt and pants off, his toned abs exposed at your sight. he was hot, very hot.

“holy jesus christ.” you murmured.

he took his boxers off, revealing his throbbing cock with a bead of precum on his angrily red tip. he took his dick in his hands, moving it softly between your wet folds.

“suck a fucking whore… letting me and my best friend ruin you entirely.” Jake said, the feeling of his dick between your folds being too hypnotizing.

“Jake, please.” you plead. “put it in.”

“patience, y/n, patience. i need to crave in my memory every single movement.” he replied.

Jake pressed his tip on your clit, making tiny circles around it. he traveled up and down again, just to push inside you without a warning.

“so fucking tight.” he moaned. “feels so good.”

“oh my god.” you said. “s’too big.”

“you can take it, y/n. take it like the slut you are.”

you moaned, loud. your walls clenching Jake’s shaft impossibly closer. he began to move, his cock spilling almost out just to get it back in with a harsh thrust. your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands on your hips helping you bounce on his cock.

“been thinking about you for a long time, baby.” he thrusted. “ever since Heeseung mention how tight you pretty little pussy was.”

you moaned, eyes rolling at the back of your head. his words having a big effect on your core, his cock was just too much.

“how good your tits looked bouncing when he fucked you.” and oh they did, just like they were doing now.

you turned your head to the side, watching Heeseung’s dick throb on his hand. he stepped up, walking around the bed to the side where your head was. you looked up, his cock standing over your face. his dick came in contact with your mouth, the salty feeling of his precum on your lips.

“open you mouth and suck.” he said.

you opened you mouth, his dick entering abruptly and making you gagged. he moved his hips at his own rhythm, fucking your throat without mercy.

“shit— that’s it, baby. your doing so good, taking both of us.” Heeseung spoke.

the sensations were to much, you felt so full. Jake’s cock was doing magic inside you, and when his thumb came in contact with your bundle of nerves, you almost exploded.

you moaned, well, tried to. the vibrations of your throat making Heeseung hiss. you could feel him twitch inside your mouth, he was about to cum.

Jake pounded into you like his life depended on it, his dick hitting that spongy spot every single time. the knot on your stomach started to grow, you pussy clenching like crazy.

“keep doi—fuck—keep doing that, baby. gonna fill you up.”

tears rolled from your eyes, the stimulation being too much. your mouth started to feel sore, Heeseung accelerating the rhythm chasing his own release.

“such a pretty view.” Heeseung said. “i’m gonna cum in your mouth—shit!”

he gave a few more thrusts before spilling his seed inside your mouth, cum dripping from the sides of you lip. you swallowed everything you could, not wasting a single drop.

Jake thumb circled your clit faster, his thrusts becoming sloppier. the knot on your belly snapped suddenly, loud squelching sounds coming from your pussy as your juices soaked Jake’s abs and cock.

“she just fucking squirted.” Jake exclaimed, a big smirk on his lips.

he thrusted a few more times before filling you up completely, just as he promised. your vision was blurry, ringing sounds loudly in your ears. you felt as Heeseung pulled out of your mouth, kneeling behind you and kissing your temple.

“you did such a great job…” he said.

Jake pulled out too, the sensation of emptiness making you hiss. you could feel his cum coming out of your hole, making a mess under you.

you came down from your high, your senses coming back slowly. your body felt sore and your throat burned a lot. you sat on the bed, fixing your hair and trying to recover. Jake and Heeseung were still on each side of the bed, admiring you as if you were the last woman on earth.

“wanna take my side, Jake?” Heeseung spoke. “is my turn to fuck her.”

“sure, i’m not complaining about a blowjob.” he joked.

for a college athlete, he had so many fans, and only continued to gain more with each post and each game he played. people loved him, and as much as you would’ve liked to gate keep him, you were glad he was getting the recognition and support he deserved.

still, at least you could say you were one of the first people to support him. you could also say you had the most popular fan account for him.

sunghoon had actually interacted with your account before, liking many of your posts about your support for him. of course, he didn’t know the person behind the account, but nonetheless, it still excited you every time you got the notification that he’d liked one of your posts or comments.

and since you went to the same school, you saw him around campus a lot. you’d walk by him and he’d have no idea that internally, you were freaking out. you’d keep a straight face, hardly looking at him like you had no idea who he was.

needless to say, you’d never interacted with him in real life.

“what’re you doing, baby?” your boyfriend of a year and a half, heeseung, asked you.

you were sat at your desk. you were supposed to be doing homework, but got distracted when you got the notification that sunghoon had posted.

he kissed the top of your head, trying to peer down at your phone screen, but you turned it off and set it down before he could.

“just trying to get my homework done,” you said.

“it might help to turn your computer on,” heeseung replied, reaching over you to turn on your computer.

in your defense, it had been on, but must’ve turned itself off when you switched over to focusing on your phone instead.

“maybe,” you joked.

he chuckled, planting a kiss on top of your head. he sauntered out of the room then, leaving you to yourself again.

you checked your phone, seeing a notification.

parksunghoon02 liked your comment.

you couldn’t help but smile, your homework long forgotten.

-

although you and heeseung didn’t live together, he was over at your place and you were over at his enough that it felt like you did. he had a designated drawer of belongings at your apartment—extra clothes, phone charger, nintendo switch—and you had one at his—underwear, tampons, and a bottle of perfume.

“here, baby,” he said, tossing one of his t-shirts at you to change into.

“thank you,” you replied, unhooking your bra.

you let it slide down your arms, leaving your bare chest exposed. heeseung stared shamelessly, eyes zeroing in on your tits.

he hummed, kneeling on the bed.

“c’mere, pretty,” he mumbled.

you joined him on the bed, sitting in front of him. he pressed your torsos together, snaking his hand through your hair, and finally pressed your lips together.

one of his hands moved up to your chest, squeezing your tits and brushing his thumb over your nipple. you practically purred, pressing your chest further against him.

“so cute,” he whispered against your lips.

he pressed on your shoulders and laid you down flat on the mattress, sticking his lips to your neck and making his way down to your tits.

he wrapped his lips around one of the hard nubs, swiping his tongue over it before sucking on it slowly. you sighed in pleasure, bringing a hand up to cradle his head.

“fuck, hee,” you mumbled, tugging gently on his silky hair.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pathetically trying to grind against him. it made him chuckle against your chest, how pent up and needy you already were when he’d hardly done a thing.

“bet you’re soaked already,” he said, moving teasingly slow as he trailed his fingertips down your stomach.

you could feel the stickiness between your thighs, the way your pussy hugged the fabric of your panties because of how wet you were.

“please,” you whined desperately.

“please what?” he asked, dipping his fingers into your waistband. “what do you need?”

he was so close, his fingers hovering just above your clit.

“touch it, hee,” you cried out, pushing your hips up in attempt to make contact with his hand. “please—need it so bad.”

“oh, i know you do,” he cooed. “go ahead and beg for me some more. maybe i’ll give it to you then.”

you huffed, jutting your hips up again.

“fuck, heeseung,” you groaned, frustrated that he wasn’t giving you what you wanted. “you’re right there—just touch it. please, want it.”

heeseung grinned, finally giving you the pressure of his fingertips on your aching clit. you whimpered at the relief, your eyes rolling back.

he rubbed your clit in firm circles, the bump of his hand protruding through your thin panties.

sliding a finger down your slit, he circled your entrance, gathering your slick arousal.

“fuck, i knew it,” he said. “you’re fucking drenched for me, baby. you’re so worked up, my poor thing.”

you tugged on his hair, silently asking him for more. luckily, he took pity on you this time and slid his lengthy middle finger inside. your hole clenched around him, and you shamelessly moaned at the sensation.

“yes, hee,” you cried as he pushed his finger in and out. “need another, please.”

he was quick to slide another finger in alongside his middle, slowly fucking your needy cunt with his two fingers. you spread your legs as wide as you could to give him as much access to you as possible, your arousal dripping down his wrist.

“mmm,” he hummed, kissing your nipple. “wanna taste you, baby. wanna taste my sweet girl’s pussy.”

you clenched around his fingers, which was enough for him to know that you wanted it as well.

he slid his fingers out of you and undressed you the rest of the way, leaving you completely bare beneath him while he was still entirely clothed. maybe you should’ve been a little embarrassed, but you didn’t care at that moment. all you wanted was for him to make you cum.

he laid on his stomach between your legs, using his thumbs to spread your glistening pussy.

“so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbled before diving in, licking a strip up your cunt.

“mmmph—god,” you yelped. “yes, hee!”

he moaned and it vibrated against your pussy, which had you clamping your thighs around his face and pushing your hips up, chasing his tongue.

heeseung grabbed ahold of your legs and spread them apart again, pushing them so far back up that it almost hurt. he wanted you as spread for him as possible, wanting as much access to your pussy as he could get.

“tastes so fucking good, baby,” he said, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit.

you jolted, legs starting to shake from how good it felt. you were grateful to have a boyfriend who knew your body so well, who knew all the spots that made you shake and write under his grasp.

with the ferocious pace he was licking your cunt at, you knew you weren’t going to last long at all.

he slid his slender fingers back into your cunt, thrusting them in and out of your convulsing hole while your clit throbbed in his mouth, and he knew you were close.

he wanted it now. he wanted your cum all over his face and in his mouth, so he didn’t slow his pace, only continuing to finger your pussy hard and deep, and suckling on your clit like he had with your nipples.

“shit,” you cried. “cumming, hee!”

you stomach tightened, legs threatening to close around his head again, but his grip was too strong. you were going to keep your legs spread because that was how heeseung wanted you.

he could taste it and feel it when you came, your perfect cunt tightening around his fingers and your addictive cum coating his taste buds. he pulled his fingers out and lapped at your hole, ignoring your whimpers and your legs vibrating from the overstimulation because he wanted it, needed every last drop of your essence.

when he was sure he got your cunt nice and cleaned up, he sat up on his knees, immediately tugging his pants and underwear down in one go.

you let your legs spread, holding your knees apart. and you looked up at him with rosy cheeks and a glimmer in your eyes, ready to take him.

“fuck, you’re such a good girl,” he praised, jerking his length off for a minute to get it ready for you.

you smiled, a smile so sweet and so unfitting for the situation you were in—about to get split in half by your boyfriends fat, long cock.

he lined himself up with your hole, exhaling as he slowly slid inside you. it was always a stretch, but you always took it like such a champ. you were addicted to the feeling, even when it was painful. it was heeseung, so you loved it.

“breathe for me, baby,” heeseung said when he noticed you were holding your breath, tense from the pain.

you took a deep breath, moaning as you released it. heeseung messily rubbed your clit with his thumb to try and help ease you into it.

“‘s so big, hee,” you mewled.

“i know, baby,” he responded. “it’s just too big for your sweet little pussy, isn’t it?”

you moaned at his words, rapidly nodding your head. he smiled lovingly down at you, caressing your cheek as he slid halfway and pushed back in, your walls nice and warm enveloped around his length.

“you’re taking it, though,” he said, pushing his tip against the spongey spot deep inside you. “taking it so, so well for me.”

“mmm, fuck!” you cried, locking your ankles together around his back. “heeseung! feels so good.”

he slid out and pushed back in, hitting that spot inside you every time, and eventually he started going faster. your tits bounced up and down, your body shifting up the mattress. the headboard knocked against the wall, but none of it mattered because you felt so good, and it was all heeseung could concentrate on.

“you’re so perfect,” he gushed, beads of sweat forming at his hairline from how hard he was going.

he suddenly pushed his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, and you were quick to wrap your lips around them, sucking the faint taste of yourself off his skin.

you moaned around his fingers, looking up at him with big, watery eyes, and he couldn’t believe the sight beneath him: you hollowing your cheeks with his fingers in your mouth, your eyes teary and drool trickling out the corners of your lips.

his abs clenched, his cock twitching inside of you.

you swirled your tongue around his finger tips, holding onto his wrist like you were holding the stick of a popsicle. you moaned around him, drool sliding down your chin and your neck.

your pussy clenched around him, and he knew if he timed it correctly, you could cum together.

“you close, baby?” he asked you, and all you could was nod, blinking up at him. “fuck, me too. wanna cum at the same time, okay? just hold on a little longer for me.”

you whined around his fingers because you weren’t sure how much longer you could hold on for. you were so close. the knot in your stomach was on the verge of unraveling and you just wanted to let go.

heeseung thrusted a few more times, and when you felt him twitch, you knew he was done, and gave yourself the permission to let go.

together, you both came. your jaw fell agape, his fingers slipping out of your mouth. you shrieked as gushes of hot fluid came spurting out of you around his cock, and he filled you with his warm load.

the pressure in your cunt was too much, but it was addictive. you felt like you were exploding all over, endless spurts of liquid coming squirting from your spent pussy.

heeseung groaned, slowly fucking himself into you to milk both your orgasms. he gave you every last bit of his sticky cum and didn’t pull out until he was completely emptied.

after a few minutes of heavy panting and quiet curses, he pulled out and collapsed beside you, exhaustion taking over both of you.

“come here, baby,” he mumbled, opening his arm to give you room to lay on his chest.

you stuffed your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his natural musky scent.

“it’s gonna leak out,” you mumbled against his skin. “can you put your cock back in me? and we can sleep like that so it stays in.”

“fuck,” heeseung grumbled, cock twitching back to life at the idea. “yeah, baby. lay on your side.”

you laid on your side, sighing in relief when he lifted your leg up and slid back into you, plugging your cunt so his cum would have to stay in all night.

he wrapped an arm around your waist, tiredly kissing the back of your head.

“i love you,” he said.

“i love you, too,” you replied.

it wasn’t long before you both were asleep in each others arms.

-

you loved heeseung. obviously. but one thing you didn’t love was his addiction.

not alcohol. not drugs.

gaming.

“hee, you sure you don’t wanna come to the game with me tonight?” you asked, slipping into a pair of sneakers.

heeseung’s thumbs darted across his controller, the screen of his monitor moving so fast that you weren’t even sure what game he was playing.

“yeah, i’m good, babe,” he answered, not even tearing his gaze away from the screen.

“okay,” you mumbled, grabbing your keys from off the dresser. “don’t forget to eat something.”

he hummed to acknowledge you, but you were pretty sure he hadn’t listened to a word you said.

you pecked him on the cheek before heading out and off to your destination: the hockey arena.

there, you met up with your best friend, nara, who was standing at the arenas front doors with her arms wrapped around herself, the wind whipping her long hair around.

“you could’ve waited inside,” you told her, pulling her into a quick greeting hug before going in.

“i wanted to make sure you’d know where i was,” she replied. “it’s super packed tonight.”

just walking into the area where the concessions and tickets were was overwhelming. people were everywhere, either wearing the jerseys in support of the players from your school, or the opponents.

since it was a home game, it was mostly jerseys from your school.

“well,” you said, motioning to the entrance to the ice arena itself, “let’s head in.”

you and nara found your seats. tonight, you guys had decided to splurge and get yourself tickets right behind the glass, so you’d be able to see the game and players close up.

hockey was huge at your school, so the tickets were not cheap, but you knew it’d be worth it. you went to almost every game, so you felt that you deserved some good seats every once and a while.

after a few minutes, both teams came skating onto the ice. they took a few minutes to warm up, hitting pucks into nets and skating back and forth across the rink.

you spotted sunghoon right away. jersey number 23.

you couldn’t help but look for him. it was an instinct. your eyes automatically scanned the group of navy jerseys in search of his number, and when you found it, you struggled to get it out of your sight.

the game eventually started, and you were on the edge of your seat from the start.

pucks were flying, players were getting slammed against the glass right in front of you, and point after point were going to your school, your team.

at some point during the game, your eyes drifted over to the bench where the players were sitting on a break. amidst the row of sweaty boys in oversized jerseys and helmets, your eyes landed on sunghoon again. only, that time, he was looking right back at you.

you audibly gasped, and tore your gaze away.

“what is it?” nara asked you, concerned.

“nothing,” you sputtered, shaking your head excessively. “sorry.”

she stared at you in confusion for a moment, then hesitantly redirected her attention back to the game.

your eyes flickered back over to the bench, and by then, sunghoon was standing up and making his way back out onto the ice.

-

unsurprisingly, your school’s team won. unsurprisingly again, most of the points were scored by sunghoon.

you quickly posted an update to your fan account while nara wasn’t looking. like most people, she knew you were a big hockey fan and an even bigger sunghoon fan, but she didn’t know about your account—rather, she didn’t know it was you who was behind it. no one did.

“ready to go?” nara asked you, pulling her purse up over her shoulder. “i need a martini.”

“yep,” you replied.

you managed to get through the crowd and made it out of the arena, back into the windy winter night.

the two of you began your walk to the closest bar. you pulled your phone out to shoot heeseung a text.

y/n — 9:01 p.m.

game just finished, going to the bar now <3

heeseung liked your message.

heeseung — 9:02 p.m.

be safe!!

you liked his message and slid your phone into your purse.

by the time you guys made it to the bar, you both were shivering and needed a drink to warm up your goosebump covered bodies.

nara ordered her martini while you ordered a vodka cranberry. your drinks came out, and just as you were about to turn to find a free table to sit at, an eruption of applause scattered throughout the bar.

frowning, you looked around, trying to find what it was that all the bar patrons were clapping about.

and then, parting through the crowd of people, was park sunghoon.

you took a large gulp of your drink, watching as he made his way over to the bar with a smile on his face, a few of his friends following behind.

you felt like you were in the presence of a celebrity, and at your school, he was. your heart beat accelerated, your mind going blank. you truly felt starstruck.

obviously, you weren’t going to talk to him. he had plenty of other people bombarding him, trying to buy him a drink or take selfies with him. even the bartender refused to let him pay, sliding over a beer on the house.

“c’mon, that table in the corner is empty,” nara said.

you glanced over your shoulder at sunghoon, shocked he was at the same bar as you, before following nara to the empty table.

you drank your drinks and tried to engage in your own conversations, but it was hard with how loud and energetic the bar was that night with sunghoon’s presence, as well as a few other players from the team.

after about 20 minutes, you’d downed your vodka cranberry and excused yourself from the table to go and grab another one.

it took a while for you to get up to the bar to order. eventually, you made it, but just as you were about to give your order to the bartender, you were interrupted.

“hey, you were at the game, right?”

to your left, looming over you and radiating energy, was none other than park sunghoon, talking to you in person for the first time.

the bartender didn’t waste a second, quickly moving on to take the customer behind you. you weren’t even mad that you missed your chance, too caught up in the awe of sunghoon of all people speaking to you.

“y-yeah, i was,” you stuttered.

“i saw you,” sunghoon said. he leaned in a little closer, resting his elbows on the bar. “i think you’re the reason i won.”

you nearly choked on your spit.

“what?” you guffawed.

you had no idea why you would possibly have been the reason why he won. it wasn’t like you were the one out there on the ice. you’d never played hockey a day in your life.

“yeah,” he said with a laugh. “knowing you were watching, i wanted to perform better.”

you were at a loss for words. you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing would come out no matter how hard you wracked your brain. what could you even say to that?

“so,” he said, “i think i owe you a drink then.”

with a singular wave of his hand, the bartender was back over to you, awaiting your order.

“um,” you cleared your throat. “just a vodka cranberry. thanks.”

“on my tab,” sunghoon clarified to the bartender.

the bartender disappeared to make your drink.

“you didn’t have to do that,” you told sunghoon.

you struggled to meet his gaze. it was so strong, the force of his eyes on you. you couldn’t hold it for more than a few seconds at a time.

“i wanted to,” he remarked. “you here alone?”

“no,” you said, turning your head to your table where nara sat—nara who you’d accidentally forgotten about in the chaos of talking to sunghoon. “i’m with my friend over there.”

she was scrolling through her phone, no clue as to what was going on a few feet away from her at the bar.

“well i’m with some friends tonight, too,” he said. “can we join you?”

the bartender returned with your vodka cranberry. you took a long sip.

“yeah,” you answered, the alcohol doing all the talking for you. “sure.”

-

a couple of hours later, you were sitting around a circular booth with nara, sunghoon, and sunghoon’s friends—jake and jay.

you were a few drinks in by then, laughing at something sunghoon said, when jake suddenly made a suggestion.

“i wanna dance,” he said, craning his neck to peak at the dance floor. “we should be dancing right now!”

you were all just drunk enough that his idea sounded like a good one, and your little group of the night deserted the table and headed out to the dance floor in the middle of the bar.

it started out as dancing in a group—harmless, chaotic, and fun. but then it fizzled out.

jake excused himself to the bathroom, jay latched onto nara, and that left you and sunghoon.

your head felt like it was spinning as you felt his arms snake around your waist, pulling you into his body. you closed your eyes, your body hot like it was engulfed in flames.

he held your hips and swayed you back and forth to the beat of the song.

okay, maybe it wasn’t the greatest thing for you to be doing, dancing with another guy when you had a boyfriend at home.

but that was hardly anything compared to the next move sunghoon made.

with your bodies attached, he suddenly leaned forward and pressed his lips to your neck. he kissed your sweaty skin—firm, long, wet kisses. and when he began to suck on your neck, threatening to leave a mark, you came to your senses.

“i have a boyfriend,” you admitted.

sunghoon paused, pulling back from your neck. he looked down at you, and you expected him to drop his hands from your hips and walk away.

instead, he replied, “well, he’s not here, is he?”

sunghoon leaned forward, ready to kiss you on the lips this time, but you stopped him.

you took a step back, feeing yourself sober up.

“i can’t,” you said, continuing to back up. “i should go.”

he looked disappointed. hell, even you were disappointed, even though you knew you really shouldn’t have been. you shouldn’t have been frustrated that you wouldn’t let yourself go further with him.

you had heeseung. you loved heeseung—worshipped him.

“wait,” sunghoon said, reaching into his back pocket. “i wanted to give you this as a thank you.”

he handed you a sliver of a paper, and when you took it, you realized it was a ticket to his next game. when you flipped it over, you found that his phone number was scribbled on it.

“i hope you’ll use it,” he said, and you knew he was talking about the phone number more than he was talking about the ticket.

you swallowed a lump in your throat, shoving the ticket into your own pocket.

you pushed your way out of the crowd and found nara.

“i need to go,” you told her, ignoring the fact that she was still dancing with jay.

“you okay?” she asked you, yelling over the loud music.

“i’m fine,” you said. “are you coming or should i call an uber?”

“i’m gonna stick around here,” she answered, smiling up at jay.

you didn’t linger, hurriedly grabbing your purse from the booth you sat at before and running out of the bar before you could do something you knew you’d regret.

-

sunghoon’s post was the first thing you saw when you checked your phone the next day. you knew, being the top fan account for him, that you should’ve responded to the post and reposted it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

he didn’t know it was you behind that account, but you also didn’t know what to comment now that you’d actually met the guy. and not only did you meet him, but you danced with him, felt his warm lips pressed to your neck and his grip on your hips.

and the caption. a good luck charm in the audience? surely he couldn’t have been talking about you.

but then again, he did tell you last night that you were the reason he won, even if you still couldn’t believe that.

it was all too much to take in right now, especially being as hungover as you were. you turned your phone off and got out of bed, trudging off to the kitchen to get yourself a much needed glass of water.

as soon as you sat on the couch and took a sip of water, there was a somewhat alarming knock on your front door—sudden and frantic.

you frowned, setting your water on the coffee table before dragging yourself to answer the front door.

“oh my god,” heeseung said, relieved as soon as you opened the door. “i texted you like a hundred times last night, baby. what the hell happened?”

he let himself inside, wrapping his arms around you securely. you hesitantly brought your hands up, responding to his hug, but felt guilt and shame wash over your body.

“i’m sorry,” you said, voice muffled in the fabric of his sweatshirt. “i got kinda drunk at the bar and crashed as soon as i got home.”

“i was terrified, y/n,” he said, releasing his grasp on you with a sigh. “please, just text or call me next time and i’ll come get you, okay? you shouldn’t be navigating things on your own when you’re drunk.”

now that was certainly true. you were drunk last night, very drunk, and that would be the excuse you told yourself to justify dancing with sunghoon and letting him kiss your neck.

“i’m sorry, hee,” you repeated, feeling like a child who just got a scolding.

“it’s okay,” he mumbled, kissing the top of your head. “how was the game? it looked like your boy carried the team to victory.”

your huffed, shaking your head.

“don’t call him my boy,” you said, and you meant it then more than ever because heeseung had no idea that you’d actually interacted with “your boy.”

heeseung was actually well aware that you had a little crush on sunghoon, that you were one of his top fan girls. it don’t bother him much, though, because he saw it as someone having a crush on a celebrity—most likely to never go anywhere. mostly likely to never even interact.

he had no idea.

“it was good, though?” he asked, following you back into the living room.

“yeah, it was good,” you answered.

“and the bar after was very fun, i take it,” heeseung said, motioning to the glass of water and bottle of aspirin on the coffee table.

you took the pills, hoping they’d kick in quickly and get rid of the headache pounding against your temples.

“it was fine,” you said, keeping your answers short and uninterested, wanting to give the impression that absolutely nothing exciting occurred the night before.

“okay,” heeseung relented, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his chest. “well, if you feel better soon, i was thinking of taking you out today. sound good?”

you smiled at the thought. it did sound good. going out with your boyfriend, and no one else, sounded very good, and would get your mind off the mistakes you made last night.

“sounds perfect.”

-

later that night, when you were back home after your date with heeseung, you were laying in bed scrolling through twitter.

sunghoon’s post was right there, and you still hadn’t interacted with it. as his number 1 fan, you had a duty to fulfill. you had to show your support, whether you were feeling conflicted with him in real life or not.

so, you simply pressed the little “retweet” button.

once you’d done that, you were going to switch back over to your personal account to check any updates your friends may have posted.

but then you realized.

you were already in your personal account. you’d just retweeted sunghoon’s post on your personal account instead of the fan account.

with wide eyes and a rapidly beating heart, you quickly deleted the repost, hoping to all the gods out there that no one saw. and most importantly, that sunghoon hadn’t seen.

but it seemed it was just your luck. sunghoon was online, had seen that it was you—the girl from last night—who retweeted his post.

he was quick to slide in and say something about it.

parksunghoon02 — 10:23 p.m.

you have my number, you could’ve just texted instead of retweeting my post.

you sighed. were you excited to be talking to him again? of course. were you feeling guilty at the fact that you were excited? very.

coolgrly/n — 10:24 p.m.

it was obviously an accident.

parksunghoon02 — 10:24 p.m.

how did you accidentally hit the retweet button?

coolgrly/n — 10:25 p.m.

i thought i was on my other account.

as soon you sent that last message, you realized you’d made yet another mistake.

parksunghoon02 — 10:26 p.m.

what other account?

your eyes widened.

shut up, y/n, shut up. just stop answering. you can’t dig this hole any deeper if you just don’t say anything.

you turned your phone off—all the way off—and tired on your side. you closed your eyes and tried to think of what you could say to him that would not give away your fangirl identity, but your brain offered you nothing.

you just had to hope he wouldn’t put the pieces together.

-

the next morning, you braced yourself as you powered your phone back on. you’d expected messages from sunghoon, maybe even a post from his account exposing you for being the one behind the fan account.

you were right about one of those things. you had messages from sunghoon, but he hadn’t posted since his last one—the post that had gotten you in trouble in the first place.

from last night, he’d sent you multiple messages after you powered your phone off.

parksunghoon02 — 10:29 p.m.

hello??

don’t leave a guy hanging!

what’s this mysterious other account you have where you would be retweeting pics of me?

fine…this convo is not over though.

and that was it. he’d given up, and hadn’t even figured out who you really were.

you felt beyond relieved, setting your phone down with a big exhale.

you had to start being more careful. and maybe that started with taking some time away from your fan account. with some time away from your fan account, you might be able to start distancing yourself from sunghoon, too.

sure, you had a silly little crush on the guy. but you already took it too far. you had a boyfriend after all.

so, you would take a break—from him, and from all things hockey.

but then you remembered: you had a free ticket.

-

you decided you would officially take your sunghoon break after the next game. you weren’t just going to let a free ticket go to waste.

it was the first game you’d ever gone to all by yourself, but sunghoon had only given you the one ticket. you had to admit, you felt a little awkward sitting between people who had their own friends to be with, but that wasn’t the point.

you were there to enjoy the game. you’d watch, have a beer, and then go home and forget sunghoon.

forget sunghoon. what a foreign concept, considering you’d been a fan of his since you were a freshman. now it was even harder after the little interaction you had the other night.

and now, sitting front row behind the plexiglass, following his movements as he gracefully slid across the ice, shooting puck after puck into the net.

whenever he skated over to your side of the arena, you tried with all your might to look the other way. but during many of those times, you couldn’t help yourself. a part of you wanted him to see you, and a bigger part of you admittedly wanted to see him.

it came as no surprise that your school won the game, thanks to sunghoon once again.

as a reflex, you went onto twitter to post an update about sunghoon’s win. just as you went to type out the post, though, you stopped yourself.

you had to remind yourself that you were turning over a new leaf. no more sunghoon, no more fan account.

you closed the app, stood up from your seat, and began making your way out of the arena.

outside in the icy cold winter night, you began walking in the direction of your apartment. however, you didn’t make it very far before someone was calling your name, their voice all too familiar.

“i won again,” sunghoon said once he’d jogged over and caught up to you, “thanks to you.”

“it isn’t thanks to me, you know,” you replied. “you’ve been playing hockey since you were four. don’t you think that might have something to do with why you’re so good?”

sunghoon laughed, beginning to walk beside you on the route to your apartment.

“well, you’re still a—wait a minute,” he said, thick eyebrows furrowed. “how’d you know i’ve been playing since i was four?”

you gulped.

shit. there you went again, your loud mouth exposing that you were a fan, that you knew more about him than you should’ve.

“lucky guess,” you said, hoping he’d fall for it.

“liar.”

he stopped in his footsteps, and you stopped, too, facing him. he pointed an accusatory finger in your face.

“you’re parkhoonluvr on twitter,” he said. your face paled. “i’m right, aren’t i?”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, shifting your gaze to the ground.

“oh, i’m so right,” he said, smiling proudly. “and that was the account you meant to retweet my post on, wasn’t it? i knew it. i knew you were hiding something.”

you huffed, rolling your eyes. he wasn’t going to believe you no matter how hard you tried to deny it.

“listen, you can’t tell anyone that i’m the one behind it, okay?” you said. “and besides, i’m done posting on there. i have more important things to do.”

“what, like your boyfriend?” sunghoon scoffed. “where is he, anyway? how come he never comes to games with you? i’m starting to think he’s not real, you know.”

you shook your head, starting to walk again. sunghoon followed, matching the pace of your long strides.

“he’s real,” you argued. “he’s just busy. and it doesn’t matter anyway because i’m not going to any more games.”

“what?” sunghoon said, voice raising a pitch. “why not? i can get you more free tickets if it’s a money thing.”

“it’s not a money thing,” you answered.

“i need you there,” he pleaded. “you’re my good luck charm, and i was talking about you in my post.”

“i know you were,” you told him, stopping abruptly in your steps once you were just a few more steps away from your building. “you can’t say that kind of stuff about me. and what happened between us at the bar the other night shouldn’t have happened. i have a boyfriend who i love, and that’s why i’m done with the account and done with…you.”

how strange, you thought. it was like you were breaking up with him and you’d only ever officially met him once before.

“i’ve seen the things you’ve said on that account, you know,” sunghoon told you, disregarding everything you’d just said. “you’ve said some pretty inappropriate things, especially for someone who has a boyfriend. does he know about the account?”

you swallowed, feeling small under sunghoon’s intimidating stare and his even more intimidating height. he completely towered over you.

“no,” you mumbled.

“figured,” sunghoon said. “can’t imagine he’d be happy to see that you’ve made posts about how bad you want me. but don’t worry, i’m not gonna tell him. it’s really none of my business.”

you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

“it’s cute that you have a crush on me,” he said.

“i don’t have a crush on you,” you retorted.

“no?” he pouted, taking a step closer to you.

it was just the two of you on the deserted street, nothing but a dim lamppost a few feet away illuminating your figures.

your bodies pressed together like the other night. sunghoon brought his hand up to your neck and it was cold on your skin, sending chills down your spine.

he pushed some hair out of your face, swiping his tongue over his lips.

“well, i have a crush on you,” he said, brushing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. “i think you’re the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”

you looked down, hiding your face from him.

“stop,” you mumbled, hating that his words were making your heart beat faster.

he tilted your head back up by your chin, smiling softly down at you.

“you should know it’s taking all of me not to kiss you right now,” he told you.

hell, you could’ve said the same thing. the close proximity between you guys, his hand on your face, his appetizing lips. you wanted him, and you couldn’t deny it. you had heeseung and you loved heeseung, but in that moment, you really, really wanted sunghoon.

“i…” you trailed off, unsure if you should say what you wanted. ultimately, you did. “i wouldn’t stop you if you did.”

sunghoon seemed to like that answer.

he brought his other hand up to your face so that both his hands were cradling your cheeks. then, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

you sighed, staying true to what you’d told him. you didn’t stop him, only melting in closer to him and reciprocating the kiss.

you brought your own hands up into his hair, diving your fingers through the thick black strands. he hummed contentedly into your mouth, lips enveloping yours.

he kissed you slowly, but deeply. passionately.

you let it go on for a few minutes before you had no choice but to pull back for air. your chest rose and fell, your breath appearing in front of you in a translucent white cloud from the cold air.

sunghoon was ready to go back in for another round, but your hand pressed on his chest, keeping him from getting closer.

“i should go,” you said, glancing over at your building not too far away.

“i really don’t want you to,” sunghoon responded.

you sighed. he wasn’t making it easy, not at all.

“i don’t either,” you admitted quietly. “but i have to.”

you turned on your heel, starting to walk away.

“wait!” sunghoon called after you. you turned around. “tell me you’ll text me. or call me. please. tell me you’ll use my number.”

you felt for the ticket in your back pocket, the ticket that had his phone number written on it.

“okay,” you said. “i’ll use it.”

you turned back around and walked away, and that time, sunghoon let you.

-

it was only an hour after your post of heeseung that you got a message from sunghoon on twitter.

parksunghoon02 — 11:29 p.m.

so you really do have a boyfriend.

you were in bed, just about ready to go to sleep. even though you knew you shouldn’t be talking to him, you felt inclined to respond.

coolgrly/n — 11:30 p.m.

you thought i was lying?

parksunghoon02 — 11:30 p.m.

i wasn’t rly sure.

i feel kinda bad now that i kissed you…

but not that bad.

your heart sunk at the reminder of the kiss. it’d been days since that night, and you were trying to forget about it for the sake of your relationship, but it wasn’t easy.

it was an amazing kiss, a kiss that left you wanting more.

although you hadn’t been able to get sunghoon off your mind, you were doing a decent job of not talking to him. up until now, of course.

coolgrly/n — 11:31 p.m.

well i can feel bad enough for both of us.

parksunghoon02 — 11:31 p.m.

is that why you haven’t texted me yet

coolgrly/n — 11:31 p.m.

yeah

i shouldn’t

parksunghoon02 — 11:32 p.m.

fine.

then give me your number so i can text you instead of sliding into your dms every night

your fingers began typing out your phone number, but right when you were about to hit the send button, you stopped yourself. were you really about to give him your phone number after telling yourself you had to be done with him?

for a few minutes, you debated. you took long enough to answer that sunghoon messaged you again. this time, you found that he sent you a picture.

parksunghoon02 — 11:37 p.m.

me waiting for you to send me your number…

you tapped on the image, sighing at the sight. how and why did he have to be so pretty? he made it practically impossible to say no.

coolgrly/n — 11:38 p.m.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

goodnight.

it was only a minute later before you got a text from an unsaved number.

xxx-xxx-xxxx — 11:39 p.m.

goodnight gorgeous

-

“hey,” you said to heeseung, snaking your arms around his shoulders. “are you gonna get off soon?”

as per usual for this time of night, heeseung was glued to his chair, eyes burning holes through his computer screen. he was partaking in his favorite pass time: gaming. again.

“mmm, yeah, baby,” he answered mindlessly. “five minutes.”

you accepted his response, moving over to his bed to sit and wait for him to be done.

you scrolled through your phone for a bit, losing track of time until you realized it’d been over five minutes, and heeseung was still locked in on the game.

“you done yet?” you asked him.

“five minutes, babe,” he said.

“it’s been ten,” you informed, trying not to get impatient even though it was proving to be difficult.

“let me finish this round.”

your jaw clenched, but you decided not to say anything. you’d let him finish the round, and then he’d get off and finally give you the attention you’d been seeking from him all night.

wrong.

20 minutes passed, and heeseung was still zoned in on the game. you gave him one last try.

“heeseung, c’mon,” you urged. “it’s been almost an hour now.”

“what do you even want, baby?” he asked. “just put a show on or go to bed or something, yeah?”

you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. your boyfriend was treating you like a persistent child.

besides, you didn’t want to do any of that. you wanted to hang out with him, to talk and cuddle and if things went sexual, then that was fine, too. but tonight, you weren’t getting any of that from him.

you’d had enough of heeseung and his gaming addiction for the night.

without uttering another word to him, you grabbed your keys and stormed out of his apartment. the fact that he probably didn’t even notice you leaving only made you angrier.

you pulled your phone out to rant to one of your friends about it on the walk to the parking lot, but found that you had missed a text from sunghoon from half an hour ago.

sunghoon — 10:08 p.m.

just lost my first game of the season.

kinda thinking it’s bc you weren’t there.

wow, you thought to yourself. you’d gone to all his games except for this one, and this was the first one he’d lost. maybe he was right after all. maybe you were his good luck charm.

y/n — 10:09 p.m.

if it makes you feel better, my boyfriend ignored me all night to play video games.

sunghoon — 10:09 p.m.

it does actually. it makes me feel less guilty liking you knowing your bf is an ass.

y/n — 10:10 p.m.

he’s not an ass.

only rn he is lol

sunghoon — 10:11 p.m.

well if you’d like to join me in drinking my sorrows away, i’m at the bar.

with how pissed off you were with heeseung, a drink sounded real nice. you knew it would help relieve your emotions, put you in a better mood.

y/n — 10:12 p.m.

be there in 10

you got in your car and made it to the bar in 10 minutes, just like you’d told sunghoon.

when you walked inside, you were surprised to find sunghoon sitting at a table all by himself. you thought he’d be with some of his friends or guys from the team, but it was him all alone in the corner, milking a bottle of beer.

you took a deep breath, clutching your purse at your side as you walked across the bar over to him.

“moping all by yourself back here?” you asked, sliding into the chair across from him.

his eyes lit up when he noticed your arrival. his entire posture seemed to straighten, and you even managed to get a smile out of him.

“you’re here,” he said. “yeah, it’s just me tonight. i wasn’t really in the mood for partying or even talking to anyone after the loss we had.”

“but you invited me here?” you said, confused.

he shrugged, taking a swig from his beer.

“i can always stand to talk to you,” he replied. “plus, you need a drink, too, don’t you? c’mon, i’ll buy you one.”

normally, you’d argue. you’d tell him you could buy your own drink, but you decided to let him.

you walked over to the bar together and ordered a vodka cranberry, like you always did. while at the bar, sunghoon ordered another beer.

with your drinks in hand, the two of you trudged back to the table.

“you’re the reason i lost, and yet i’m the one buying you drinks,” he said, to which you scoffed.

“you need to let that go,” you told him. “i am not the reason you lost.”

“you totally are,” he replied, but in a tone that was playful. “if you were there watching me, i would’ve been too embarrassed to lose.”

you chuckled to yourself, staring down into your drink.

“well, i would’ve much rather been there tonight than sitting and waiting around for heeseung to be done,” you ranted, taking a large sip of your drink, washing away the night’s earlier stress.

“okay, so it’s his fault,” sunghoon concluded. “can we agree on that?”

you raised your glass, clinking your drinks together.

“i guess we can,” you remarked before taking another sip.

-

it was midnight. you and sunghoon had been at the bar for hours by then, drinking and talking in that dimly lit corner table. you hated to admit it, but you had a really good time—so good of a time that you’d managed to mostly forget about your issue with heeseung.

but you knew you’d have to go soon. it wasn’t like you could spend all night with sunghoon.

side by side, you left the bar and walked out to the parking lot. the alcohol in your system did little to keep you warm out in the freezing night. you immediately wrapped your arms around yourself, speeding over to you car.

“you drive here?” you asked sunghoon.

“no, i walked from the stadium,” he replied. “it’s cool, i don’t live too far.”

his cheeks and nose were already turning red from the cold, the wind whipping around his jet black hair.

you huffed. “get in.”

not surprisingly, he didn’t argue, and hopped into the passenger seat of your car while you got in the drivers seat.

he gave you his address, and you quietly began driving in the direction of his apartment.

the ride was quiet, but not awkward. it was pleasant, a nice calm-down after the hustle and bustle of the bar.

when you pulled into the parking lot of his apartment building, you put your car in park and slumped back against your seat with a tired sigh.

“sorry about your game,” you said.

“don’t be,” sunghoon said, looking over at you. “it wasn’t your fault, remember?”

you exhaled a laugh, nodding. you didn’t stop him when he slid his hand across the center console and placed it on your thigh. you looked down at where it lay firm and heavy on your leg.

you watched at his thumb began to caress your thigh over the fabric of your jeans—back and forth like a windshield wiper.

“i want you,” he said suddenly, his voice low and quiet.

you gulped, refusing to look over at him because you knew what would happen if you did.

but then he gave you no choice. with his other hand, he reached over and turned your head to face him.

and then, surprising the both of you, you were the one who leaned over the console and kissed him. you dug your hands into his hair and kissed him with all the intensity of a girl who’d been restricting herself from doing so all night.

sunghoon moaned against your lips. your lips parted just enough for him to slide his tongue in, and you were quick to reciprocate, intertwining your tongue with his.

you weren’t thinking about heeseung. you couldn’t—not when sunghoon’s tongue was down your throat. you wanted sunghoon too much to stop yourself anymore. you just had to have him.

you broke the kiss and leaned over the center console, your hand diving down to unbutton and unzip his jeans.

“oh fuck,” he mumbled as you wasted no time pulling his cock out from the restrain of his boxers.

his length stood straight up, tall, long, and thick. a vein ran all the way up from the bottom to his angry red tip.

sunghoon’s hand found its way into your hair, holding it out of your face for you as you leaned down and gave a teasing kitten lick across his slit. the taste of his precum seeped into your tastebuds, and already you wanted more.

you took his entire tip in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks out. you sucked it like a lollipop, pulling out as much precum from him as you could because you were already addicted and you’d barely gotten any yet.

“shit, yeah,” he muttered, body tense in the passenger seat.

you pulled off his cock with a lewd pop, looking up at him to gauge his reaction. it was dark in the car, making it somewhat difficult to make out what he was feeling or thinking, but the way he subtly pushed on the back of your head to get you to go back down on him was telling.

you did what he wanted, putting his dick back in your mouth and taking more of him this time. his breathing was heavy, almost to the point of panting, all from how you kept pushing yourself to take more of him.

to take all of him seemed impossible. he was huge, and your throat simply wasn’t big or long enough. you took what you could, though, and jerked off what you couldn’t in your hand.

“fuck, baby,” he moaned. “suckin’ it so fucking good.”

his words filled you with the motivation to keep going, to make him feel as good as you possibly could. they also filled you with neediness. you knew you were going to need more of him, were going to need some relief for yourself.

up and down your head bobbed along his length, your hand stroking the bottom half of it up and down. you could feel it twitching in your mouth, which told you exactly where he was sensitive and what he liked that you were doing. plus, when his moans increased in volume, that was a giveaway, too.

his hand tightened in your hair, fingers curling around the strands. his hips jutted up into your mouth, and you were sure that he was just about to finish. but instead, he pulled you off his length.

you looked up at him, lips glistening with saliva and his precum. you blinked expectantly, confused why he stopped you.

“let’s get in the back,” he exhaled.

quickly and eagerly, you both crawled into the back seat. there, sunghoon took his pants and boxers off the rest of the way, then took his shirt off next.

you undressed, too, all the way down to just your bra and thong. you wanted sunghoon to do the rest himself.

he perched you on his lap, hard cock rubbing against your inner thighs, smearing his precum on your skin.

with his lips attached to your neck, he dragged his large hands up your sides, up your back, and skillfully unclasped your bra. you let it fall down your arms before it fell to the floor of your car, your tits exposed to sunghoon.

he immediately latched onto one of your nipples, closing his eyes as he sucked on it. he brought his hand up to your other tit and rubbed your nipple in circles with his pointer finger.

“f-fuck, sunghoon,” you moaned, rutting against his lap desperately.

he hummed against your chest, pulling back for a moment.

“i can feel how wet you are,” he said, licking a stripe up your neck and back down to your nipple. “what do you want?”

you tugged his hair as he began sucking your nipple again, your hips moving against him like they had a mind of their own.

“nghhh, you, hoonie!” you cried out. “need you, need your cock inside me.”

“oh fuck,” he mumbled, hooking his finger into your panties. “i’ve got you, baby. i’ll give you what you want.”

he pulled your thong down, and finally you were entirely naked with him.

he tapped your thigh to get you to sit up on your knees, hovering over his lap. then he grabbed his cock, lined it up with your dripping cunt, and grasped your hips to help you sink down on it.

you gasped as his tip entered you, your pussy clenching around it. already, it was stretching you out, and already, you weren’t sure how you were going to be able to take it all.

“you’ve got it, baby,” he assured, like he could hear the self doubt in your mind. “just take it nice ‘n slow. i’ve got you.”

you whimpered as you sunk down more, taking a couple more inches. sunghoon sucked on your neck, soothingly rubbing your back as you took more and more of him, forcing yourself to endure the pain because you knew it would become pleasure soon enough.

after a few minutes of whispered praises and encouragements from the man underneath you, you bottomed out. your pelvises pressed together, and his entire length sat inside of you.

“you feel so good,” he whispered into your ear, nails digging into your back. “so fucking wet and warm.”

you grabbed onto his broad shoulders for leverage and forced yourself up onto your knees, sliding your wet cunt back up his cock. you shuddered at the sensation, sinking back down again, slowly fucking yourself on him.

sunghoon watched you in awe, like you were made of something that wasn’t real, something that couldn’t be made there on earth—like you were otherworldly.

his eyes trickled down your body and fixated on where your pussy clamped down around his length. he watched you rise and fall, swallowing all of him in those tight, gummy walls of yours.

“oh my god,” he moaned, throwing his head back against the seat of the car. “that’s so fucking good, baby.”

you were moving faster now, almost entirely accumulated to his size. the pain was nearly gone, and the pleasure was infiltrating at lightning speed.

“sunghoon,” you choked out, your hips mixing a motion of grinding and riding his dick. “it’s so fucking big—feels so good.”

“i know, sweetheart,” he said, holding your hips to help guide you, to help you take it.

you went even faster to the point where you were bouncing on his lap, the car rocking slightly with your movements. your thighs slapped against his whenever you came back down, and that was the sound that filled the atmosphere, mixed in with your combined heavy breathing and moans.

when your legs started to strain from the effort of riding him in such a confined space, you pressed your chest against his and arched your back. sunghoon thrust his hips up into you, taking over and letting you just sit there on him and take it as his cock worked like a piston in and out of you.

“oh my god, yes!” you yelped, face pressed into the crook of his neck. “just like that, just like that, hoonie!”

he grunted, forcing himself to fuck you even harder, as hard as he could possibly go. your nails dug into his shoulder, your jaw slack and spilling drool onto his chest from just how fucked out you were.

you clenched around him, your pussy leaking arousal around his length, dripping onto your leather car seats.

“you like that?” he rasped in your ear. “you like getting pounded in the back of the car, baby?”

“mmmhm, yes, sunghoon!” you practically sobbed. “love it so fucking much—mmm, please don’t stop!”

“i won’t, baby,” he assured, kissing the side of your head. “i don’t think i’ll ever be able to stop fucking you now.”

you tightened around him again at the words. in that moment, you really didn’t want him to ever stop fucking you. it was only your first time with him but he already knew how to make you feel unbelievable, how to make you see stars.

you sat back up and continued grinding back and forth on his lap as he continued to thrust up into you. his cock filling you up and hitting your deepest spots mixed with your sensitive clit rubbing against his pelvis was too much. it felt too good, and you knew you weren’t going to last.

“hoonie,” you moaned. “‘m close.”

he nodded. “me too, baby. just hold it a little longer for me, okay?”

you whined, unable to stop you cunt from clenching and unclenching around his length. the knot in your stomach was just seconds away from snapping. you needed to cum.

sunghoon slammed up into you, a vein in his neck popping out and throbbing from the sheer force of how hard he was fucking you. the car was completely rocking by that point, the windows fogged up with your steam. anyone who walked by your car would know without a doubt what you guys were doing.

“cum for me, baby,” he said. “let go all over me.”

you broke like a dam.

you fell into his chest, a spray of liquid gushing out of your and splashing around his cock, leaking down sunghoon’s thighs and onto the seats and the floor.

tears fell from your eyes from the sheer intensity of it all. you couldn’t stop cumming, grinding back and forth in his lap to ride out your never ending high.

sunghoon abruptly pulled out of you and immediately hit your stomach and his with a rope of hot, sticky cum. his body tensed beneath you, abs clenched as he released a buckets worth of cum.

you knew he was done when you felt his body relax beneath you. he let out a big exhale, one that you mirrored after, and you slumped against him.

you were both sweaty and exhausted, panting to try and catch your breaths. sunghoon tiredly kissed your forehead, brushing his fingers through your messy hair.

“you okay?” he asked you quietly.

“mhm,” you confirmed, nodding into his neck.

you stayed like that for a while. you weren’t sure how long, but just long enough—you sat in his lap, your naked bodies recovering after the exhausting act you’d just committed.

your eyes closed, and you were sure you could’ve fallen asleep like this. sunghoon, too.

you heard it in the front seat when your phone began vibrating with an incoming call.

without looking, you knew who it was, but you weren’t going to answer. how could you after you’d just slept with another man?

a man who wasn’t your boyfriend.

Two dicks hardening at the only sight of you in that short skirt. You praise yourself mentally for your outfit choice; especially when Jake’s hand slowly goes up on your legs, fingers squeezing your thighs when he finally reaches them; but he keeps it soft. He keeps his hands away from your crotch and it is disappointing. At least to you.

After some time you pull back, grabbing his chin and planting a last kiss on his lips before turning your attention on your boyfriend who had been awfully quiet; waiting for that moment to come.

“Hee. Join us baby.” You say, panting from the intense making out session you just shared with Jake and you really sound greedy now. Your hands are still caressing Jake’s face but you’re calling out another name.

Heeseung doesn’t even try to play hard to get and resist your request. He instantly walks towards you, taking his shirt off and throwing it away, his eyes fixated on you with every step he takes. And when he reaches you, his abs are at your face’s level.

You look up at him, your eyes filled with desire and… amusement.

You know what’s coming and you don’t want to press things. You’re taking your time with this. It was Heeseung’s gift to suggest this to you and you didn’t intend on ruining the fun experience by being too impatient.

You bring your hands to his waist and when you stop touching him, Jake unconsciously lets out a slight sigh of disappointment. But you’re focusing your attention on your boyfriend now. You know he wants it and after being so patient, waiting for his turn while watching you take pleasure with Jake; you know he deserves it. You caress his warm skin with the tip of your fingers; mouth planting soft kisses on his naked chest and he caresses your hair, fingers softly playing with a few locks as he stares intensely at you.

Jake watches carefully but he decides not to let himself get excluded just like that. If you were kissing him eagerly just before, now it’s him who is all over you. He’s moving closer to you on the couch, kissing your arm, shoulders and finally nuzzling his face into your neck.

“You smell so good.” He says as he sniffs your fragrance. His lips drop kisses here and there, and as he starts sucking on your skin; eager to leave his mark on you, Heeseung squeezes his shoulder hard enough to get Jake to look at him.

“Don’t cross the line.” He warns. His voice is low, his gaze dangerous and it turns you on instantly. Jake squints, a bit annoyed at not being able to do whatever he’s been craving to do to you for years.

And he just slides behind you on the couch, kissing and biting your neck gently enough for it not to hurt you. As he does so, he finds himself staring at Heeseung a bit too often; almost to ask permission for the things he does to you.

But Heeseung focuses on you, his hand caresses your face softly, pinching your cheek. “My pretty girl…” He whispers. He wants you, especially when you’re looking up at him with such beautiful, innocent eyes. And yet you’re everything but innocent now, trapped between two attractive men who both want all of you but are forced to share.

You unbutton Heeseung’s pants, moving onto the most interesting part of all this and as soon as you take off his underwear, with his help, his cock bounces back up. He’s already hard, and he only wants you to take care of it, because no one manages to satisfy him like you do.

You smirk before sticking out your tongue to tease the tip of his dick, licking it like a lollipop. “Mhhh yeah baby, go ahead.” he pulls your hair softly. “Look at me while you suck me” He commands, making you initiate eye contact again.

His lips are parted, an obvious sign of his desire and pleasure. His hair falls in front of his eyes, but it doesn’t stop him from seeing the playful smirk on your lips when you start sucking him; or should we say teasing rather than sucking because you seem like you really want to make him impatient with the way you’re not fully taking him in your mouth as usual.

Jake observes it all with an amused expression. It’s the first time he sees you overly confident like that. You’re almost… dominant now. You want Heeseung to beg for you to just suck it. You want to hear his desperate whimpers when you finally give him what he wants.

But that man knows you. And he knows he can just make you give it to him and you’ll just comply with it because in bed he’s the most dominant man you’ve ever known and he just has this way of taking the lead that doesn’t leave room for arguing.

“Fine. I’m just gonna fuck that pretty mouth of yours then.” He says and it draws a slight gasp and laugh from Jake who’s still peppering your shoulders with kisses.

Heeseung’s grip on your hair is stronger now, and he brings his other hand on the back of your head, pushing on it while rocking his hips, his dick thrusting inside your mouth like it’s just a hole for him to pleasure himself.

You hold yourself onto his side as he pushes deeper, his balls slapping against your chin each time he moves in and out of it and even if you enjoyed your short moment of dominance over him, now you just want him so bad you’re giving up instantly.

Jake wraps his arms around your chest, his hands squeezing your tits through your shirt and he feels your nipples hardening at the contact of his fingers. He smiles proudly. “Not wearing a bra ?” He asks and he bites your shoulder, making you gasp around Heeseung’s cock.

He slowly unbuttons your shirt, freeing your breast and bites his lips when he finally feels them in his hands. They fit perfectly into his big hands; as if they were made to be held by him. You roll your eyes back, wanting to look at him when he pinches your nipples between his index finger and thumb but your boyfriend seems to have other plans for you.

“Look at me when you have my dick in your mouth, whore.” He slaps your cheek gently, humiliating you more than hurting you. His gaze is intense and you know he’s not playing any longer. You’re his and obviously, he intends on showing it to Jake tonight. You bring back your attention to him instantly. “Open wider” He commands with his harder voice and you have no choice but to obey. You do as he says; opening your mouth wide, with your tongue out and he rubs his dick against it before thrusting back in.

“Fuck…” he groans, eyebrows pinched together when the first wave of pleasure reaches him and you feel his pre cum on your tongue.

You’re a mess now, moaning under Jake’s skilled touch and drooling all over Heeseung’s hard cock. They love the sight of you like that; so unhinged and careless. It’s attractive, and making them want more of you. Both of them feel like they need to ruin you now. Not as in a competition, but they just want to make you regret your decision with how hard they’re going to do you tonight.

Jake whispers against your ear. “You like that ? When he fucks your mouth ?” He asks such an intimate question with a smirk on his lips and you just know he’s going to be teasing you now if you don’t make him shut up.

“You look so hot like that y/n… You were made to suck dicks.”

You bring a hand to his mouth, trying to cover it while remaining focused on pleasuring Heeseung. “Y/n… Our good little cocksucker.” He keeps teasing, giggling after he manages to take your hand off his face and he brings it to his crotch. “See how hard you're making me.”

Suddenly, he’s not just games and teasing, but he pulls down his pants and takes off his underwear along with it. Your eyes widen when you see his dick for the first time. He’s big. If Heeseung’s dick is longer, Jake’s definitely thicker.

You touch it softly and Jake guides your hand around it, wrapping your pretty fingers around himself. “Don’t play shy. Take responsibility.” He looks directly into Heeseung’s eyes, a glimmer of competition in his gaze before looking back at you. “You’ll suck me off too, later.”

Now you get the expression he wore when he looked at Heeseung just now. It was as clear as day. Jake wanted you to suck him off; and if you wanted it too, then even Heeseung wouldn’t be able to stop him from filling your wet mouth with it.

“Now jerk me off.” He commands, his hand caressing your bare back which sends shivers down your spine. His touch is so gentle, contrasting with the words he’s saying but this equilibrium makes him extremely attractive to you.

You execute the order right away, like a good girl, your hand wrapped around his thick dick stroking harder and harder. You’re not even teasing him, you just straight up want to pleasure him the way he wants it. “Mhh. Good. Keep going.” he says before kissing your neck eagerly and he ignores Heeseung’s earlier warning. His mouth kisses and sucks on your skin, enjoying every second of your hand masturbating him so good. It’s just a hand, but the fact that it’s yours and he’s been touching himself secretly to you for years makes it even better.

It’s like a dream come true. But all of his wet dreams involving you weren’t even close to the pleasure he’s feeling now that his dick is in your hands.

And he smirks proudly after seeing the hickey on your neck. He looks at Heeseung, who’s so focused on owning your mouth, eyes closed and hands gripping your hair that he didn’t notice any of it.

Good, Jake thinks. He doesn’t want it to end now because of his stubbornness in marking your body despite Heeseung refusing earlier.

He observes as Heeseung pulls away, his dick still hard and his eyes devouring you. He knows the night has only just begun and he can do whatever he wants to you. He licks his lips briefly before bending over to kiss you. His lips are soft and his tongue addicted to your taste as he’s slowly pushing it into your mouth.

He kisses you like time has stopped; taking his time to fully savour you. His hand placement makes you shiver when he grabs your neck gently, his fingers locking your chin to hold you in place.

And your eyes are begging him for more when he pulls away. You’re looking at him like he owes it to you and after arousing you so much he knows he does. You run your hand over his chest, your hand stopping where you can feel his heartbeat and it’s so fast.

Heeseung gulps and as he keeps staring into your eyes intensely, he kneels; settling himself between your legs. He pulls your skirt down and as he has been observing the scene while still sitting next to you; Jake helps him undress you.

He bites his lip when he finally gets to see your body. And it’s magnificent; you’re gorgeous and he keeps repeating it into your ear as he helps you lay down in a comfortable position. It’s the first time he sees you naked and he can’t stop staring at you, and touching you in places he never once thought he’d get to ever see one day.

You turn your attention to Jake for a few minutes, kissing him as you boldly ask him if he liked the sight. You noticed his insistent gaze and it’s only feeding up your self confidence.

“You’re perfect.” He only says, in the most sincere voice ever. You can tell he’s getting aroused by you; but little do you know it’s not just that. Jake is becoming addicted to you. He loves the little sounds that escape your mouth with each touch you feel and he loves to see your body move in the rhythm imposed to you by Heeseung who’s obviously leading all of this at the pace he wants.

At the same time, Heeseung spreads your legs and smirks when he sees your slick folds, and it’s like it’s begging him to take care of you now. You’re needy and he sees it on your face when your lips part and you heave a soft sigh.

Heeseung slowly settles down between your legs, sticking out his tongue before bringing it to your clit and it makes you moan instantly. Your body needed this. You feel Heeseung giggle against your pussy, proud to be the reason you’re becoming noisier now.

He licks you up and down, tasting you and enjoying every second of it. He knows very well that he could do this to you for hours; because having you in that state makes him both satisfied and happy.

He just loves you so much he wants to satisfy your every need every occasion he gets to do so. As he keeps eating you out; he adds his fingers inside of you, curling his index and middle fingers until he rubs your gummy walls and when he finds the right spot; your legs start to shake.

“Stop, stop, it’s too good.” You bite your lip. The pleasure is so strong it brings tears to your eyes as Heeseung won’t stop doing you so good. And you can’t handle this; it almost hurts and judging by the arrogant expression on his face, Heeseung is not stopping now.

Jake turns your face to the side to steal another few kisses from you and as you moan into his lips, he bites your lip. “Shh. Be a good girl and take it.” He commands you.

Both of them are holding you down as you’re enjoying yourself thanks to Heeseung’s mouth. His skilled tongue delves deeper as he starts fucking your pussy with it and feeling it inside of you feels good; but it’s not enough.

“Your dick.. I want your dick.” You manage to say between your constant moans. Jake’s mouth goes down on your body until it reaches your hard nipples, and he’s sucking on them, stimulating you.

Having both men’s attention and care feels overwhelming in a good way. Indeed you feel so lucky now because they’re both so attractive and they’re also both obsessed with you.

The combination of their skills in this makes it so much better and so hard to resist them. Your hands are pulling their hair softly and your grip hardens when Heeseung eats you out much more aggressively. His two hands are gripping your thighs to keep you laying on the sofa and unmoving as you ride your first orgasm on his tongue.

“Heeseung… Fuck…” you moan his name and he smirked at Jake as if saying “See what I get everyday” But you can’t say anything, only busy processing the intense orgasm you’ve just experienced and your body already prepares for another one as you know they’re not done with you. And you love it.

Heeseung keeps eating your pussy but slows down to let you handle it and after some time he gets up from the floor to sit on the couch.

“Ride my cock. Now.” He commands and he pulls you close until you’re straddling him. He carefully puts a strand of hair behind your ear as if he’s not going to fuck you hard in just a few minutes. But still; you enjoy the softness among the wild, passionate sex you’re having.

His hands find their way just naturally to your body, resting on your ass as you’re slowly sitting on his dick and it goes inside of you so easily with how wet you are it makes him smirk, again.

Heeseung lets you choose your pace but you know he’s going to take control over you back soon enough. You see it in his eyes with the way he looks at you like he wants to ruin you.

“Heeseung…” Your soft moans sound too sweet to him and just like that his grip on your ass hardens, as he squeezes it hard; making you go down on his dick at a faster pace.

“Hee- Ahh” You can’t even form a coherent sentence when he fucks you so good. Having you on top of him fills him with intensified pleasure as he gets to see your face and all your beautiful expressions from up close. One of his hands softly caresses your bare back almost like a praise for your ability to take him so well.

And as you enjoy yourself more and more with each thrust of his, your mouth remains open.

“Look at this whore opening her mouth like that. Obviously a dick isn’t enough, huh ?” Heeseung says with a sharp voice and the dirty talk only makes your cunt wetter.

“Isn’t it right, baby ?” Heeseung asks softly as if he didn’t just degrade you seconds ago. “Our guest wants his dick sucked I think.” Heeseung whispers against your body before his lips catch yours in a passionate kiss. “Suck him off.” He orders and Jake immediately gets up from the couch.

He caresses your hair; his gentle touch contrasting again with Heeseung’s rough handling of your body. You look at Jake and fuck, that gaze on you might kill him. He could come now just with the way you look, with your messy hair and your body quickly jumping on top of Heeseung’s dick.

You break eye contact first when your eyes look at his dick that’s waiting for you to take care of it and you don’t make him wait any longer before taking it as deep as you can. “Oh fuck- your mouth…” Jake is vocal about his pleasure; that you noticed earlier but now that you’re sucking him off just the way he likes it : slow and deep, he’s getting even louder.

“You're so good at this y/n…” He whispers, his hand still running through your hair and as Heeseung fucks you harder, the moans you let out around his dick send vibrations into his entire body.

Your mouth feels like heaven and he never knew you had this kind of talent. But this is clearly the best blowjob of his life and he keeps praising you for it. “Good girl…” He repeats over and over again while Heeseung whispers into your ear how much of a whore you are.

“Greedy whore.” He whispers and as he keeps fucking you, one of his hand starts massaging your other hole and you know what he wants to do next.

He slowly pushes a finger inside of your ass, and as you two had already tried it before, it wasn’t long before your hole dilated enough for Jake to try fucking you.

You pull back and Jake groans disappointingly when he’s not feeling your wet mouth circling his dick. He opens his eyes and notices Heeseung slowly laying down on the couch, still holding you on top of him.

And he pushes on your head until your chest presses against his. The feeling of your tits against his warm chest feels so good as much for him than for you, and you nuzzle your head into his neck, dropping kisses on his burning skin.

“Fuck her. She wants both of us inside of her.” You bite on his skin after he said that without even asking you and he giggles. “Don’t act like I’m lying. Your body can’t hide anything from me, y/n.” Heeseung says. And he’s right. You do want both of them as it sounds filthy but exciting.

Heeseung spanks your ass a few times. His hand slaps hard enough to leave a red mark but you’re into that and he knows it; which is why he allows himself to be so hard on you.

Jake kneels on the couch, behind you and before doing anything he admires your curves and the way your body clings to Heeseung’s but still begs to be taken by him.

He gulps hardly, realizing he’s about to fuck his best friend. The tip of his fingers trace a line along your spine, and he drops kisses here and there. His softness makes your heart melt.

He caresses your ass right where Heeseung spanked you just before and he leans over to kiss you there. His finger easily thrusts inside of you, and you feel full when he’s fingering your ass while Heeseung doesn’t stop his thrusts inside your wet pussy.

Jake suddenly grabs a condom and puts it on his dick, teasing your hole with the tip of it. He rubs it slowly, and the desire and impatience is starting to grow stronger inside of you. You let out a frustrated sigh. “Jake…” You decide to stimulate him a bit.

Your voice gets him weak, he can’t hide it. His hands slowly move up to your shoulders to hold you tight as he carefully pushes his dick inside of you.

“Fuck…”

It hurts. But it’s so good at the same time. Jake bends over you, his dick still buried inside of you and he kisses your cheek gently. “Do you want me to pull out ?” He asks softly, a bit of worry in his eyes at the simple idea of hurting you.

But you shake your head. You know you can handle it, and you love that the two most important men in your life are holding you so tightly now.

You throw your head back, resting it on Jake’s shoulders as they both thrust inside of you relentlessly. The difference in their attitude and rhythms is so striking and your body wants more. You want more. At this point it’s a need because the way they’re treating you feels like heaven.

Their hands are all over you and Heeseung’s dirty talk combined with Jake's soft touch and praises feel very overwhelming in a good way.

Heeseung devours your neck, his dick fucking you so good as usual. He just knows your body by heart; knows where to press, at what pace to go. His body knows how to fuck you and you love that he’s so attentive to your pleasure when many don’t care.

Jake’s hands wander on your body, his teeth biting your shoulder every time he thrusts inside. It’s the first time he’s touching you so intimately but somehow he still pleasures you. As if it was meant to happen and both of you feel a little spark each time you look at each other.

Heeseung notices it. And he doesn’t like it. He pulls your hair and makes you look at him, his eyes threatening and dangerous. Don’t forget you’re mine. He seems to be saying when he looks at you with that fire in his eyes and you only kiss him as a response.

“Much better.” He says against your lips as he keeps kissing you, claiming your mouth.

Jake observes it all and doesn’t say a word; instead he fastens his pace. He’s close and you can feel it when you feel his dick twitch inside of you like it’s begging to release. And when Heeseung also becomes faster, eager to fill you up with his cum since he didn't put on a condom; you feel trapped.

That alliance against you makes you lose your mind. They both know what they’re doing with you that’s for sure. And as you reach your third orgasm so far, you don’t even manage to say a word. You’re just a moaning mess; your mouth is making noises even Heeseung had never heard before. Your soft voice is almost broken and it’s so clear you’ve never felt so good before; being stimulated by the two of them at the same time was definitely a lot to handle.

Jake nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing the same exact place he sucked on earlier as he comes, a satisfied grunt escaping from his mouth. “Fuck.”

Heeseung kisses you when he comes and he whispers against your lips. “I love you.”

And despite not answering with words; you kiss him again and over again, making out while Jake keeps thrusting inside of you as he rides off his own orgasm.

You’ve never felt so full and it’s all thanks to your boyfriend and his genius idea. As you rest your head on his neck and kiss him over and over; Heeseung’s gaze meets Jake’s and he smirks as he mouths the words “She’s mine.”

“Y/N, will you do me a favor?”

You roll your eyes at the question as irritation crawls up your skin. It’s one of the questions you hate the most, especially coming from your sister. “Another one?”

“Don’t be a bitch. You staying for my party is not even a real favor,” she scowls at you. 

“It actually is because mom and dad won’t let you have it unless I’m here,” you scowl back as your irritation grows. “And I literally had plans today.” 

“I told you you could invite your little friends,” she snaps angrily. “It’s not my fault they didn’t want to come!”

You don’t blame your friends for not wanting to hang around your sister and her friends. They were vapid and annoying. Tolerating them was always a challenge, but at least you would be able to hide in your room this time.

“Whatever. What’s the favor?”

“Will you hang out with Sunghoon when he gets here? He’s gonna feel awkward without Gayoung around, and he actually seems to like you.”

“Heeseung isn’t coming?” You ask, surprised that the two friends who are always attached at the hip aren’t coming together.

“No, he is, but…” your sister’s expression turns a bit bashful. “We’re probably gonna be hanging out alone, and I don’t want Sunghoon to feel awkward. You know how he is.”

You frown at how thoughtless her actions are. Some friend she is. 

It’s likely that Sunghoon declined her invitation since his girlfriend won’t be coming, but obviously your sister’s obsession with Heeseung pushed her to berate him into coming and bringing her crush along. She didn’t handle rejection well which is why she’s still latching onto the hope that Heeseung will finally see her as more than a friend.

A losing battle if you ever saw one.

“Fine,” you say slyly. “I’ll make sure Sunghoon has a great time.”

Sunghoon is the first to admit that he’s a little bit of a pushover. He’s always been one to go along with other people’s whims even if he didn’t necessarily want to. That’s how he ended up at a pool party he didn’t even really want to be at. Initially, he came because he was unable to reject his friend’s invitation. Literally. She didn’t take no for an answer, and she insisted that he bring Heeseung, who she’s liked for a long, long time.

Now, Sunghoon had no problem being a wingman, but unfortunately for everyone involved, Heeseung doesn’t feel the same way about his friend. It’s painfully obvious to their entire friend group, and if Sunghoon hadn’t mentioned that you were also going to be at the party, he knew Heeseung wouldn’t have agreed to come. Somehow his friend doesn’t realize that her longtime crush likes her younger, prettier sister. A cruel irony, really.

“Don’t leave,” Heeseung manages to say through gritted teeth before he’s pulled away by his admirer to do shots.

Sunghoon feels awkward at first. He hardly knows anyone aside from Heeseung and the girl clinging onto him. He’s always been bad at small talk which is all he would be able to have with some of the familiar faces surrounding him. Luckily for him, a very pretty knight in shining armor saves him just as he’s about to check his weather app.

“Hoonie!” You exclaim happily as you throw your arms around his neck affectionately. “I’m glad you came! How have you been?”

Usually, it’s awkward for him when people he hasn’t spent a lot of time around try to act friendly, but with you it’s different. You’re always genuine with him, and right now he can tell you’re trying to make him feel less uncomfortable. It’s something Sunghoon has always appreciated about you. You’re so sweet and considerate that he’s never had any issues getting along with you. That’s what makes it so easy for him to talk to you.

“I’ve been good,” he gives you a pretty smile that makes you swoon internally. “I just finished up my internship last week which means I can finally enjoy my summer.”

“That’s great!” You say in a congratulatory way. “I’m surprised, though. I didn’t think my sister’s parties were your idea of enjoying summer.”

“They’re not, but Gayoung said I should come since she’s out of town.”

You don’t ask about his girlfriend because you don’t really care and because anything else you might say will lead back to your sister basically forcing him to come because she wants to hook up with his best friend. Sunghoon is nice enough not to mention that at least.

Taking a glance around your backyard, you realize that now would be the perfect opportunity to get away without being noticed. 

“Let’s go inside,” you tell him after your sister’s friends start to get more rowdy in the pool.

Sunghoon can’t ignore how pretty you are or how good you look in your skimpy bikini. So he nods like he’s bewitched. Your grin is lovely, and he refuses to deny how right it feels when you grab his hand to lead him into the house. Maybe it’s not right for him to allow you to do so, but Sunghoon would do anything to please you. That includes following you into your room.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you go to sit on your bed. “No one will notice we’re gone.”

Sunghoon watches, entranced as you sit on the edge of your bed with your alluring smile. Before he can think of something to say, you’re slipping off your bikini bottoms like it’s not fucking scandalous. His cock twitches when you toss the tiny swimsuit at him and it lands on his shoulder. You spread your legs and part your pretty folds to show Sunghoon how wet you are. He might’ve thought he was dreaming, but the throbbing ache in his cock reminds him that this is all too real.

You’ve been horny all day, and having your sister’s pushover friend fall into your lap like this is an opportunity you can’t just ignore.

Plus, you’re only doing her a favor like she asked.

“Look how wet you made me, Hoonie,” you say through a needy whine. 

“Y/N,” Sunghoon groans, feeling his cock come alive at the sight of your pretty pussy all spread just for him.

“I want you to fuck me. Right here, right now.”

Sunghoon’s cock twitches, and just as he contemplates on how to navigate this delicious development, you say something that makes his control snap.

“You know you want to.”

You smirk when Sunghoon quickly discards his swim trunks before yanking you to the edge of the bed. His long, thick cock is practically throbbing, and you lick your lips in anticipation. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. I didn’t know you were such a slut.”

Your grin is tantalizing, and Sunghoon can’t resist anymore. Gayoung is never this forward when they’re intimate. Maybe it’s because she was a virgin before she started dating him or maybe it’s because she doesn’t like sex as much as he does. Either way, Sunghoon can’t care about his prude little girlfriend at the moment. Especially with how you’re dripping all over yourself and eyeing his cock like it’s the one thing you want more than anything.

And it is. Right now, there’s nothing you want more than Sunghoon’s big dick drilling into you. Your cunt pulses just knowing he’s about to fill you up and stretch you out on his cock.

“Are you sure you can handle it? You think I’m gonna fit in this tight little hole, baby?” Sunghoon wonders as he slaps his cock down on your wet pussy. “Fuck. I’m gonna stretch this pretty pussy out nice and good.”

Again, Sunghoon slaps his leaking cock on your pussy and gently slides it between your slick folds. His fat tip brushes against your clit and makes you whine in need. He gives you a teasing smirk before he slowly sinks into you. The moan you let out is almost as loud as his own groan. Your cute little pussy is hot and tight and so fucking wet. Sunghoon knows that he won’t last long if he just starts pounding into you like he wants.

“God, you’re so big,” you mewl, eyes rolling back when he finally bottoms out inside you.

Sunghoon fucks you slowly, using his thumb to rub your puffy bud. The sounds you’re letting out are driving him insane, and the way your molten pussy grips him is like absolute heaven. This is already better than any of the sex he’s had with his girlfriend, and he knows this definitely won’t be the last time he has you like this. 

You squeal when your bikini top is abruptly yanked off. The way Sunghoon’s dark eyes are locked on your bouncing tits makes you clamp down on his dick and soak it with more of your arousal. Just seeing your juices painting the length of his cock makes him throb inside you.

“Shit. Are you already close?”

“Mhm, yeah,” you whine, moving your hips to grind your pussy on his cock. “Your cock feels too good, Hoon.”

Even though he’s fucking you slow, you’re creaming on his cock in seconds and with a loud cry of his name. You beg him to keep fucking you, and that’s how Sunghoon finds out that cumming once is never enough for you. He grins, loving how cockdrunk you already are. He’s more than happy to indulge you, not caring that he’s betraying two of the closest people in his life by indulging himself in your tight pussy.

That’s why he starts drilling his meaty cock into you at a punishing rhythm, letting you feel every single inch of his hard dick. The only thing Sunghoon can feel is your cunt wrapping perfectly around him, his leaking tip slamming into your spongy cervix every single time he snaps his hips. He plants needy, open-mouthed kisses all over your neck before he goes further down, desperately latching onto one of your pretty nipples. You cry out loudly when he flicks and sucks on the sensitive bud before gently biting it.

Sunghoon’s thrusts are deliciously brutal. It’s like you’re his personal fucktoy and he’s only using your little hole to make himself cum. His tongue circles your nipple before he starts suckling it again, desperately trying to fuck his cock deeper inside you. His hips crash against yours, slamming into you without care until he’s shooting ropes of thick, hot cum right into your awaiting pussy. 

Meanwhile, his best friend is downstairs having the worst time of his life.

Heeseung knows what’s going on. From the moment he got separated from Sunghoon, he saw how you went and cozied up to him. How you pressed your pretty tits together and gave him all of your attention. He can admit he’s jealous. It’s impossible for him not to be when he’s wanted you from the moment your sister introduced you to him.

Your sister had been talking his ear off when he saw you leading Sunghoon inside. Heeseung didn’t hear a single word she said from that point on because his eyes were locked on you and Sunghoon’s intertwined hands.

At the first opportunity he gets, Heeseung goes inside to see just what you and Sunghoon are up to. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, feeling his cock twitch. Despite all the noise from outside, he can still hear you clearly. The way you’re begging, moaning, cumming. Heeseung is jealous and harder than he’s ever been in his life. 

Looking back to make sure no one decided to come inside, Heeseung slowly climbs up the stairs. He stops in front of the wide open door to your room. It’s sick, but he stays to watch Sunghoon fuck your brains out. You sound and look so sweet, just like he imagined you would. Heeseung palms his dick over his swim shorts as he admires your beautiful body and how it bounces every time Sunghoon fucks his cock into you. The remnants of spit on your hard nipples make him envious that his best friend got to taste them first.

“If you’re going to keep staring, you might as well come in.”

It takes you a moment to realize Sunghoon isn’t talking to you. Your dazed mind slowly catches up and finally notices Heeseung standing in the doorway. Seeing him there with a huge bulge in his swim shorts while looking at you so heatedly makes you clench down Sunghoon’s cock, staining it with more of your cream.

You whine when Heeseung walks over to the bed. Especially since Sunghoon keeps fucking you like his friend isn’t watching. It’s nasty, but you feel so good because you love being on display. Heeseung gets on the bed and starts to rub and pinch your puffy clit.

“You’ll let me watch, right, baby?”

It’s easy to nod with a moan. Heeseung smirks and continues to pinch and rub your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your puffy clit is so soft and wet that he thinks he can cum just from touching it.

You can see how hard he is through his trunks, and you remember overhearing your sister and her friends talk about how all of Heeseung’s exes would say how big his dick is. How they all wished they could find out for themselves. You lick your lips and reach over to tug at his shorts. Too bad for your sister and her friends, but you were going to find out first since you obviously can’t pass up this opportunity.

Heeseung doesn’t hide his smirk and helps you take off his swim shorts. He frees his cock easily, and you can’t help but stare. He’s thick and big, easily as big as Sunghoon. You lick your lips and look up at him expectantly.

Like you, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate to take an opportunity that’s in front of him. He taps the tip of his dick against your lips, grinning when you open your mouth eagerly. Sunghoon watches you swallow his friend’s cock with an eagerness that makes his cock throb. He’s never seen anything so hot in his life, and he has to slow down his thrusts because he’s so close to blowing his load. 

“Shit, Y/N. You’re such a good fucking girl,” Heeseung groans, watching your throat bulge as he fucks it. “That’s it, baby. Swallow my cock.”

Your eyes cross when Sunghoon and Heeseung’s thrusts start to sync up. They’re both moaning in tandem as they fuck you, and all you can do is lay there completely fucked out as it happens. It’s easy to cum again as they use you for their pleasure.

“Fuck. I bet her pussy’s nice and tight,” Heeseung hisses in delight. “Cum inside her, Hoon.”

Just hearing those words coming from Heeseung is enough to push Sunghoon over the edge. His head falls back as he empties his load into you. “Fuck, Y/N!” He groans as he fucks his cum deeper into you without stopping.

“That’s it, baby. Take every drop of our cum,” Heeseung moans as cum fills your mouth. 

You’re all panting by the time you’ve ridden out your highs, and you surprise the two friends by asking for more.

Sunghoon smirks as he looks over at Heeseung. “Just wait until you feel this pussy. Our pretty girl’s so fucking tight.”

That’s how you end up on all fours, sandwiched between them. Sunghoon grabs the back of your neck as he smacks his cock against your lips just like his best friend did. You part them with a needy moan, tongue lolling out to entice him. He slaps his leaking tip against the slick muscle with a low groan. God are you hot. Way hotter than his girlfriend could ever be.

“So eager to suck this dick,” he murmurs. “Dirty fucking girl.”

Whining, you lap at the tip of his cock, eagerly tasting the remnants of your orgasm and his cum leaking from the slit. You moan at the taste as you start to lick up and down his cock. 

Your pretty pussy is dripping with Sunghoon’s cum and your own arousal. He sees you get wetter when you fully take his best friend’s cock into your mouth. Seeing you drip with arousal makes Heeseung’s cock throb. Finding out what a needy slut you are just made you hotter in his eyes. You’re absolutely perfect.

“Didn’t expect you to be so greedy, baby,” Heeseung laughs. He rubs his cock across your slit before tapping the head against your swollen clit. With a pleased sigh, he slips his dick inside your fluttering hole. 

Your eyes roll back as you get filled on both ends. It’s a dream to have your mouth full of Sunghoon’s cock and your pussy stuffed full of Heeseung’s dick. The sound of your messy, wet cunt makes Heeseung fuck you harder. Your juices are running down your thighs and his. The wet slapping sounds mix in lewdly with all the moans and groans.

“Fuck, she’s so tight,” Heeseung moans as his hands squeeze your ass. It makes you clench down on the cock spearing you open.

Your eyes take in Sunghoon as he strokes his cock with your throat. His dark eyes filter periodically between you and his friend. He throbs every time he watches Heeseung pound your sopping wet cunt. The two share a filthy smirk while you whimper in pleasure. Your mouth and pussy are stuffed full, and you’ve never felt better.

Heeseung fucks his dick deeper into your cunt with a deep groan. Your slick walls flutter and squeeze his thick cock as he roughly kneads and slaps your ass. Just feeling how tightly you’re gripping him makes Heeseung pump his cock into your clenching pussy with a rough tempo that slams against your g-spot and makes you squeal around Sunghoon’s dick.

Your eyes roll back as Sunghoon shoves his cock deeper down your throat. He hisses at the feeling, cock flexing against your tongue as he keeps rolling his hips. Drool falls in thick strings from your open mouth and slowly drip down the cock you’re sucking. Sunghoon moans and caresses your face, loving how you look so pretty with tears in your eyes and his dick in your mouth.

You’ve never looked so hot, bouncing back eagerly on his friend who’s splitting you open on his cock. Heeseung groans, praises spilling from his lips every time he thrusts his cock back into your sloppy cunt.

“Fuck, baby. You have such a pretty little pussy. All tight and wet just for us,” his words make the coil in your stomach tighten. “Could stuff this sweet pussy all day.”

Your orgasm hits hard and fast. Heeseung grunts loudly, hips stuttering against your ass as your soft pussy walls milk his cock. With a loud whine, your body arches and your eyes roll back in ecstasy as you choke on Sunghoon’s cock. 

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart. Now I’m gonna fill your hot little cunt,” his heated voice sends a sick thrill up your spine.

“God. I’m gonna cream in your sloppy mouth, pretty girl. Swallow it all for me,” Sunghoon says as one of his hands grips the back of your head.

Moaning around his dick, your head and hips move to help them reach their own highs. The two friends grunt and groan as they chase their own releases. Sunghoon spills first, cum thick and hot as it coats your mouth and throat. Heeseung follows not too long after, shooting his load deep inside your spasming cunt. 

As Heeseung slowly starts to pull out of your pussy, he curses under his breath when you pulse and flutter and squeeze him even tighter. “Fuck. This sweet little pussy doesn’t want to let go.”

Regrettably, he pulls out of your clenching heat with a wet schlick, making both of them groan at the noise. It rivals the way you start to choke on Sunghoon’s cum. He too pulls out reluctantly, but not before wiping the tears from under your eyes.

So much cum is leaking out of your pretty holes, and the two friends decide that they’re going to spend the rest of the party stuffing you full.

Heeseung lightly smacks your messy pussy. “Don’t think we’re done yet, baby. The day’s still young.”

Your sister pouts petulantly as she walks upstairs to the restroom. It’s been almost an hour since she last saw Heeseung, and now he’s ignoring all her calls and texts. She hasn’t seen you or Sunghoon either. Briefly, she wonders if you hadn’t kept her friend entertained enough to keep him at the party. If Sunghoon left, then his best friend had definitely followed suit. She scows as she thinks about how she’s going to get you back later. It wasn’t the first time you inadvertently ruined her chances with Heeseung, and she’s sick of it.

Just before your sister can get to her destination, she hears moans. Loud, filthy moans.

They’re obviously coming from your room, and she wonders if some of her guests were using your room to have sex. Fuck. You were going to murder her.

She approaches your room with a purpose, wanting to get whoever it was out of your room before you found out. However, she stops at the doorway when she sees something ten times worse than strangers having sex in your bed.

Her longtime crush is sitting at the edge of your bed, bouncing you on his big cock while her friend kneels in front of you two as he eats your pussy. Heeseung is giving you a filthy kiss as he gropes your tits and helps you fuck his cock. She can see cum dripping down his heavy balls as he splits you open. Sunghoon is holding one of your hands as he laps at your clit. Your sister doesn’t miss the way he’s tugging on his cock while you tug on his hair. He’s moaning into your pussy like he’s never tasted anything better.

Your room reeks of sex, and her heart breaks when she realizes it’s because the three of you have been fucking for a while now. When you finally break the kiss, Heeseung starts to trail wet kisses down your neck, still oblivious to her presence. You, however, lift your head and make eye contact with your horrified sister.

Unlike she expects, you don’t snap out of your sex-crazed lust. You only smirk at her. It’s mean and vicious—a smirk that she’s seen countless times before. Usually, it’s her directing that cruel, victorious smirk at you. But now that the roles have switched, she can feel her heart break.

You toss your head back with a loud moan, not caring that your sister is crying because you’re bouncing on Heeseung’s cock while Sunghoon licks your pussy. If anything, this is her fault for thinking her plans took priority over yours. It’s not like she ever had a chance with either of them, anyway. You were just making her see that once and for all.

you tilt your head with an expression that's mixed with slight amusement and irritation.

"now, heeseung; you know my husband would have us both dead if he saw you here." you warn and it makes the corner of heeseung's lip twitch as he leans on the wooden post on your quaint front porch. almost like the perfect picture of a home someone would settle and start a family in. he's got a singular stock of wheat between his lips, sweat still glistening against his skin, and eyes still playful as they travel from your baby blue sandals all the way to the lace that traveled along the plunging neckline of your dress.

he has to bite back a hiss as he takes in your figure.

"both of us know your little cop for a husband loves you too much to shoot you dead— me? well he'd unload a whole barrel before confirming i was even here."

you give him a knowing face. sunghoon's hated heeseung since the day he made of a fool of him, it was during the 4th of july celebration and heeseung used the chaos of fireworks to break out of the cell sunghoon had thrown him in. he was locked up for causing trouble at a saloon but in heeseung's defense he was only defending one of the saloon girls from some asshole too drunk for his own good.

one thing led to another and heeseung was taking on 4 men who were much bigger than him but by the end of it they were all face down on the worn out wooden floor while heeseung stood tall, barely a scratch on his soft face. sunghoon threw all of them in a cell but kept heeseung much longer 'just because' but everyone knew it was because heeseung was known as the town's outlaw and sunghoon just couldn't prove he's the one behind all of the stolen goods that have gone missing from several stores in town.

it also didn't help that whenever you were in town shopping for groceries to make your husband dinner, or looking for a new and beautiful dress to wear, or to get your hair done, heeseung was also there. honey eyes shaped like hearts as he tries to strike up conversation with the sheriff's wife and each and every time you'd tell him who your husband was and without fail, he'd always respond with "some cop bastard don't scare me, sweetheart." with the same sickly sweet smile that you couldn't get out of your head.

sunghoon hated seeing heeseung flounce around town like he wasn't breaking the law and hated it even more seeing him talk to his pretty little wife. you and sunghoon got married right out of high school and the rest was history; you loved him, truly, but he could be quite strict and sometimes you wished he was more playful and smiled more— kind of like heeseung.

"you just gonna stand there and let little ole me die from this heat or is a sweet lady like you going to let me in and catch a break from this ball of hell in the sky?"

it came out like a challenge. heeseung was seeing how far he can push the sheriff's wife, how far you're willing to step closer to the edge of something unknown, how far you're willing to go even if it means pissing off your husband. "fine— come on in, i've just made some lemonade." you roll your eyes as a smile stretches on heeseung's lips. "and kick off your shoes— i don't need you tracking all that dirt in my house, i just cleaned."

"yes, ma'am." he obliges, dusting off his boots and carefully tucking them to the side, underneath the swing set hanging to the side of your porch.

heeseung gives a quick pat to goldie before heading inside, following closely behind as his eyes roam your backside, biting onto his lip as a restraint to stop himself from pouncing on you.

"have a seat— you can't be here long. just one glass and you oughtta get going— hoon's got a short day today."

"hoon—" he scoffs at your nickname for your prick of a husband.

it wasn't a secret the two always butted heads, especially when sunghoon threw heeseung in a cell. ever since then heeseung's done things to purposefully piss off sunghoon, like flirt with you.

"fuck does your cop husband even do all day? if i was your husband i'd stay with you here all day— surprised he hasn't made you a mama yet."

his remark makes you choke on saliva that was filling your throat. "heeseung?!"

"what? i'm just being honest, sweetheart. pretty little thing like you deserves to be loved in every kind of way— looks to me your husband's too busy playing with guns to take care of you."

"here's your glass." you're about to turn around and hand it to him but run into his chest, not realizing he's moved a lot closer to you now, features so clear that you can see the direction of where the streaks of sweat had previously dropped across his face. some of the lemonade spills onto your chest, dampening your dress and glazing your exposed skin.

"thank you, kindly." he says, taking a sip of the overly sweet lemonade, not once break eye contact as you stare into his brown eyes. an unspoken challenge emerges between the two of you again as the dampened fabric of your dress continues to cling to your breasts, a challenge on it's own for heeseung to hold back everything in his being from tearing the flimsy dress off of you and taking you on the kitchen counter where you prepare meals for your husband every night.

"is it good?" you ask, swallowing the dryness in your throat.

"yeah— want a taste, sweetheart?" he says and before you can answer, he's grazing your chest with two fingers, moistening them with the lemonade that's painted your skin and sliding them into your mouth. he pushes them past your lips slowly, just testing the waters, and when your lips close on them and he feels the swirl of your tongue on his skin, he smiles and pushes them in further.

"atta girl… taste good, don't it?" he asks as he prods around your mouth, long and slender fingers gathering your spit as he pushes back and forth. you nod with a slight whine, looking up at heeseung with glossy eyes, hand gripping the counter for dear life the longer he toys with you. "i'm gon' need another taste." he says and before you know it, he's tearing his fingers from your mouth and it's tugging down at your dress, exposing your breasts that have now practically soaked up the sugary lemonade, making it a perfect place for him to indulge.

heeseung pours more of the lemonade onto your tits, a gasp leaving your mouth at the cold sensation but it gets drowned out by a moan when he latches his mouth onto your nipple, ice cold lemonade dripping from your tits and directly into his mouth as he laps at your skin and the juice like it was a lifeline. "so fuckin sweet." he murmurs against your nipple, biting down on it briefly before switching over to the other, more lemonade pouring down your skin like a waterfall of golden citrus.

"hee– fuck." you whimper, biting onto your lip, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling.

he looks up at you from his bent position, one hand clutching your breast, kneading it like soft dough similar to the one you prepare dinner rolls for dinner while the other still holds onto the glass of lemonade, only now it's barely full. "you wan' me to stop, i'll stop. just say the word, sweetheart; i won't make you do nothing you don't want."

that alone makes the warmth buzzing in between your thighs intensify.

"don't stop." is all you have to say before heeseung is abandoning your tits altogether, sloppily leaving the glass of lemonade on the counter that's spilled over in his hurriedness as he brings his mouth to yours. the taste of lemonade dancing on your tongues as he grabs your face in his hands, slightly sticky from all the sugar but nothing he wasn't willing to lap up, tongue across your face to lick you clean.

"been fuckin waiting for this, you've got no idea, sweetheart." he says in between kisses, lips too eager to leave yours even for a breath. "hated seeing your asshole husband parade you around like some trophy knowing damn well he's got no idea what to do with all this." he says that as his hands snake across your body, grabbing two handfuls of your ass with a tight squeeze that makes you gasp into the kiss.

heeseung takes that as his opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, pushing the sugary taste further into your mouth.

"the room— hee; the room. let's go to the room." you almost have to push him off of you to get your words out and he doesn't waste a second by grabbing your hand and letting you lead the way, eyes glued to your ass as you try to compose yourself.

you push open the door of your bedroom, photos of you and sunghoon on the walls as he looks around, stopping at the one of you at your wedding, beautiful as ever. "you're beautiful." he mutters to himself and you hum in question but he doesn't clarify. "you're mine— for the next however fuckin' minutes, you're mine. alright, sweetheart?" he says as he backs you up onto your bed, ass softly falling onto the mattress.

you nod as he gently grabs your chin with one more kiss before he's telling you to lay back and pulling your dress over your head to expose your body, butter yellow floral and lace panties presented to him like a gift. "such a shame you wore these pretty little things— it'll only get tossed aside anyway." he says while hooking his hand onto the waistband of your panty and tugging it down with ease. you figure he's tossed it aside from what he's said but he doesn't give you much time to think about it before he's putting his tongue to work, lapping at your folds and pressing warm kisses onto your sensitive spots.

"shit—" a whine gets stuck in your throat just as heeseung's teeth bites down ever so slightly onto your clit, pairing it with a swirl of his tongue that sends shock waves through your body that has you gripping onto your cloudy duvet for support. if that wasn't enough, he pushes two fingers inside of your sopping wet pussy, hooking them upwards to poke at the sensitive and gummy part of your pussy that makes it clench around him.

he smiles to himself when he can feel your body reacting so positively to just his mouth and fingers, "i know you're close, sweetheart. let lose for me— i know you can do it. c'mon now."

"fuck! heeseung— i'm gonna cum!"

"that's it, sweetheart. give it to me, all over my face pretty lady."

a broken gasp combined with a moan erupts from your chest as the band inside of your tummy breaks, warmth flooding across your body as your orgasm takes over in a way it hasn't ever before with the way the unexpected liquid shoots out from your pussy, drenching heeseung's smiling face. he's quick to bring his face even closer, mouth open and tongue out to get as much of your juices into his thirsty mouth.

"fuck; that's right. so fuckin' sweet." he huffs as he continues fingering your pussy, slurping at your skin to lap up any of your juices that he may've missed.

"that surely cooled me down." he says in between licking your folds.

"too much, hee— too much!" you're practically begging him to let of you and he laughs.

"sorry, pretty. you're just so fuckin' sweet, you know?"

your eyes are closed in bliss as your chest rises and falls, tits still glistening from the mixture of lemonade and heeseung's spit as finally pulls his fingers out of your pussy with a slopping wet sound, heeseung smiling triumphantly he he watches your fucked out nature sprawled across the very bed you and your husband sleep on every night.

"i've got you, sweetheart." he says, grabbing your legs and swinging them over so you're more positioned into the middle of the bed, legs numbly laid out as your arms are stretched across the mattress.

you're trying to regain composure when heavy steps and the sound of spurs slowly get louder and louder. you open you're eyes to not only find heeseung now straddling you but your husband standing at the doorway of your bedroom, leaning on the doorframe and arms crossed as he's got a furrowed gaze on his eyes.

"ho– hoon? what are you doing here?" you try to question and he just kisses his teeth in disbelief.

"what am i doing here? in my home? that i worked so hard to pay for? so that you can play housewife? and you're actually here fuckin' some lowlife outlaw."

"hey– fuck off." heeseung retorts but sunghoon pays him no mind.

"now, tell me, darling." sunghoon says, walking over to you now, gun holster still strapped to his waist, boots heavy against the floorboards, "what kinda trouble are you getting in with this here, criminal?"

you open your mouth to answer before he's done speaking— "and i don't want no lies. you're in no position for fibbin, are ya?"

you shake your head in response and when he waits for an explanation, it never comes.

"cat got your tongue, darling?"

sunghoon clicks his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head for added disappointment, "i'm surprised, darling. didn't think you had it in ya to cheat on me and here ya are.."

"no– hoon! i promise it's not what— it looks like?" he finishes the sentence for you as it dies on your tongue. "i know my wife better than anybody in the whole world and right now it's lookin' a lot like my wife is cheating on me with none other than the asshole i've been trying to put behind bars for months now."

"fuck you." heeseung spits out, glaring at sunghoon and your husband is quick to grip his collar into a fist and pull him close, his other hand on his holster.

"watch your fuckin' mouth, lee." sunghoon warns and it makes heeseung smirk.

"what? you wanna taste your pretty little wife on my tongue?" he bites back and you can see the vein starting to pop out of sunghoon's neck.

"guys— please! what is going on? heeseung, get off of me!"

you try to wiggle fry, the friction of your unclothed pussy against the leather of heeseung's chaps proving to be too good of a sensation, causing you to stop before you stimulate yourself too much.

"don't even try moving." sunghoon warns as he pushes off of heeseung.

"hee— get off!" you tell him once again and when heeseung looks over to sunghoon who is unclasping his handcuffs from his belt, he looks over to you with a mischievous grin. "sorry, sweetheart. no can do— sheriff's orders." heeseung says as he softly caresses your cheek. your eyes are bouncing between the man who just ate you out with ferocity and your daring husband who has an unreadable expression on his face.

you watch in shock as he comes closer, the mattress dipping as he presses a knee close to your face, the feeling of the cold metal wrapping around your wrist as he moves it towards the corner of the bad, clicking it into place around the wooden bed frame. "wha– what?" and sunghoon shoots you a glance that instantly shuts you up.

"damnit— i've only got one handcuff, her other arms still free." sunghoon huffs in annoyance and heeseung raises his head to look at him. "i've got my lasso wrapped on my saddle— just be nice to goldie, she already don't like ya."

sunghoon rolls his eyes at heeseung as he leaves the room for a second to fetch the lasso heeseung was talking about and just like he said, it's hanging loosely off the side of his saddle with goldie patiently waiting for him. "good girl." he says, rubbing her gently before walking back inside.

"stay still, darling. you don't wanna piss me off more than ya already have." he warns again when you try to wiggle free and by now you've given up on trying to free yourself after he's tightly wrapped the rope around your other wrist and around the bed post. "now—" sunghoon says as he shuffles off the bed. he carefully removes his leather jacket, grabbing his black cowboy hat and hooking it onto the lamp on the nightstand, "you're gon' be a good wife and please this man right here." sunghoon says as he bends forward so his face is a lot closer to yours, finger pointing towards heeseung.

"don't act like i haven't seen you all heart eyed over him whenever he just so happens to appear by your side; i'm giving you permission to fuck him." you're blinking at your husband in disbelief but the way heeseung's hands are softly caressing your body, kneading your breasts, and gently squeezing your waist, you can't help the way the warmth in your tummy begins to build again.

"see, sweetheart. maybe he's not too bad, after all." heeseung teases and sunghoon just side eyes him before continuing. "i love you so i'm gon' let you feel good—" he stops for a second to stand up straight, now looking down at you laid on the bed. "you cum a single time while his dick is inside of you and you're in big trouble. got it, darling?"

he grabs your chin to nod your head for you and with a kiss onto your forehead, he gives heeseung a single nod to continue. "you still want this, right?" heeseung asks, thumb rubbing against your flushed cheek, you nod, eyes still glued to sunghoon who was now leaning back on your vanity in the corner of the room, just watching. "words, sweetheart. i needa hear you say it." heeseung says and that's when you swallow the lump in your throat and decide to take up sunghoon on his challenge.

"yes— yes, i want you heeseung."

"that's all i needed, baby." he says before leaning forward and pressing his lips against your, kissing you deeper before knowing well that it'll probably be the last time he'll ever have you like this. his hands so gentle yet roughed by callouses, graze your body as he holds you still and close to his. heeseung is quick to tear his clothes off, not wasting anymore time so that he can finally feel your around him. his cock springs free from his underwear and you'd be lying if you said your mouth didn't water— but you sure as hell tried your best to make it seem like it didn't as sunghoon's eyes bore daggers at you.

heeseung spits onto your cunt— not that you needed it— before pushing in, his cock is throbbing and you can feel every vein as he pushes inside. "shit" he hisses as his hips are flush against yours.

"please— hee, please move." you beg, looking up at him while he's in ecstasy, eyes shut in pleasure as his grip on your waist tightens. "just a second, sweetheart. if i move right now i'm afraid it'll be over too soon."

this makes sunghoon chuckle in disbelief, "course you'd cum so quick— and you wanted to pleasure my wife? you know she can go for rounds— can't ya, darling?"

you look over at your husband and glare at him, trying to silently stop him from making anymore comments while he has a smug grin on his stupidly handsome face. "c'mon then— fuck her. you wanted to so bad, don't ya?" he's still heckling heeseung who is honed in and focused so that he doesn't instantly cum. the feeling of your wet pussy wrapped around his cock is better than he could've ever imagined and even though it's embarrassing that he'd cum so fast— he didn't care.

you were just so fucking beautiful that he could cum so quickly, but it didn't matter because just like you, he was good for a couple rounds before fully tapping out.

"you gon' just sit there with your dick in my wife or are you gonna fuck her— SHUT THE FUCK UP!" heeseung interrupts sunghoon with a low growl and suddenly his hips are snapping at an unruly pace, each thrust his head pokes at the soft and gushy point inside of your cunt, tip to cervix; not letting up as your breath is sucked out of you.

"i'll fuck your wife and you're gonna fuckin' watch me— i'll even fuckin' cum in her." heeseung spits, eyes glued to your face that's constricting into a pleasured expression, eyes squeezed shut with your jaw slack. "yeah— you want that, don't you? fill you up real good, sweetheart." he adds, a rough and thorough thrust with each word, intention buried deep inside of you from the way heeseung is proving a point to your asshole husband who is enjoying all of this a little too much.

"fuck— you feel so fuckin' good, sweetheart. can never get tired of this pussy." heeseung says through gritted teeth. you're nothing but a moaning mess the more heeseung fucks into you with motivation to show you just how badly he wants this and an equal amount of wanting to shut sunghoon up.

"remember darling—" sunghoon speaks up, all of a sudden he's close again, face laying next to yours as he leans over the edge of the bed. his hand suddenly pinches at your clit and with a jolt your eyes fly open in as a whiny breath flows from your mouth. "you cum while he's fuckin' you and you're a whole lotta trouble, got it?"

"nod if you understand." and you do.

it's enough to make sunghoon's smug grin return as he continues bullying your swollen and aching clit, your stomach contracts in different places as you try to hold out from cumming. your husband can tell you want nothing more than to cum with the way your head lulls backwards and your fingers sporadically open and close like you're trying to grasp at something— except there's nothing there to ground you.

"does my pretty wife wanna cum? do you, darling?" sunghoons coos, using his other hand to brush stray hairs from your face, a teasing pout on his face that you're trying so hard to avoid as your eyes focus onto the way heeseung's abs flex and the veins emerging on his arms the harder he fucks into you.

"don't listen to him, sweetheart. jus' you and me, alright?" heeseung's voice was calm yet full, like he just knew all the right things to say so that your mind only focuses on him and nothing else. of course he wanted you to cum, he wanted to feel the way your pussy floods on his cock but if it meant that you were going to get in trouble with your dumbass husband then he was going to try his best to help you— even though he just wants to feel you cum around his cock so fucking bad.

"hee— fuck; right there!" your voice comes out small and whiny as heeseung's thrust continue at their pace; thick, heavy, and full. "i'll give your mouth something to do." sunghoon mutters in a low whisper as he pulls his chaps off, belt clattering against the wooden floor as he stuffs your mouth with his cock. "yeah— just like that, darling." he groans, head falling backwards in pleasure at the way you instantly begin sucking him off without being told.

heeseung quickens his pace with the way you've got your holes filled, pussy clenching around him every time you choke on sunghoon's cock. the way your eyes become glassy with tears but you don't let up on fitting more of sunghoon into your mouth. heeseung's mouth slowly opens at the sight of you being such a whore for your husband and him; mostly him.

"didn't know your pretty wife was such a dirty slut, park."

sunghoon chuckles at heeseung's comment, a prideful smirk on his lips like it was a compliment and it practically is the way you clench around heeseung's cock when he calls you a slut. "yeah, you like that, sweetheart? like being treated like slut, huh?" you clench again and it makes heeseung hiss as you giggle against sunghoon's cock, vibrations surging through his body.

"shit— i'm gonna cum." both men grunt at the same time, glaring at each other when they realize they both just said the same thing.

your moans are choked up against sunghoon's cock as his cum fills your throat and heeseung's fill your aching cunt. your body is warm and limp with the slow thrusts of heeseung as he tries to fuck his cum deeper inside of you like he doesn't want you or your body to forget this moment, secretly hoping that nine months from now he'll miraculously find his way back here and you'll have a child in your arms, unsure of how to tell him that it's his.

sunghoon pulls his cock— still hard– out of your mouth as strings of your spit web from your lips to his tip. "swallow it, darling. just like i taught ya." and when you open your mouth to show him it's empty, he smiles proudly and gently taps your cheek. "good job." he says, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

meanwhile, heeseung is coming down from his high, dick still throbbing and quite frankly, likely still pumping cum into your pussy as his body stills, hands slightly loosened on your waist and for a second he swears the pleasure is enough to just simply reach over, knock sunghoon out with a punch, and beg you to run away with him.

"move." sunghoon says, slapping heeseung's shoulder with the back of his hand and it's enough to take heeseung out of his trance like state and come back to reality. eyes blinking before they settle on your disheveled body, wrists out of their restraints as you try to catch your breath.

you whimper as heeseung pulls out and much like your husband, he's still hard.

"you did so good, sweetheart." he says, reaching over to you after pulling out, caressing your face with his large hand, peppering kisses along your jaw before pressing a kiss onto your lips.

"she did— my beautiful wife is perfect like that." sunghoon's got a smile on his face again but this time there's no smugness behind it or any type of arrogance. just pure joy at seeing his beautiful darling of a wife in complete pleasure and bliss. "now— let me show you how to fuck this pretty pussy; that way my sweet darling can finally cum." he adds.

"you'd like that don't ya, baby?" sunghoon asks and you nod, eager to cum after being denied, afraid of what kind of punishment sunghoon might have in store for you. sunghoon grabs your waist and tosses you around so you're now facing downwards, ass up perfectly up in the air for your husband, hips sway as you wait for him to do something— anything.

"yes, please hoonie." you beg, nodding as you wait to be told you can finally cum.

"calm now, darling. if you're gon' cum it's gon' be round my cock and nobody elses." your husband gives your ass a few spanks, large hand enough to cover one cheek as he lines himself up with your pussy that's still wet and dripping from heeseung's cum and your husband doesn't pay it any mind, thinking of it as a simple reminder of how good your cunt is. "there ya go—" he pushes in with a low groan, cock thick and girthy, stretching you open.

"so fuckin' tight." sunghoon finally pushes all the way as a gasp rips from your lips, mouth widening enough for heeseung to stick his cock into your mouth with a grin. "didn't think i'd leave without feeling this mouth on me, did ya sweetheart?"

you shake your head and get to work, bobbing back and forth to suck heeseung off who is now kneeling in front of you on the bed. "just like that, sweetheart. let me feel that throat." heeseung says while gathering your hair in one hand, thrusting his hips further into your mouth that your nose presses against his body.

"d'you even fuck her, lee? she's so fuckin' tight." sunghoon hisses as he grabs hold of your ass, a few slaps before he squeezes them, quickening his pace as he watches the way your pussy grips his cock with every thrust. you moan against heeseung's cock as sunghoon pounds you from the back, your spine arched in ways you didn't know it could, knees boring into the mattress, and arms barely holding on as you try to hold yourself up.

your husband's relentless thrusts of equal weight in each thrust with a pace that's enough to overwhelm your body leads you to choking on heeseung's cock even more than you already were. heeseung's balls are wet from all of the spit drooling from the sides of your mouth as his swings and hits your chin— "shit— sweetheart you've got a real talent. pretty face and body paired with a dangerous mouth like this; no wonder park's made you his little wife."

you can hear sunghoon chuckle from behind you and before you could even try to turn around to glare at him, there's a boiling in your lower belly that you can no longer continue to ignore.

heeseung pulls out of you just as he's about to cum, face furrowed as glares down at you while he fucks his fist, "tongue, sweetheart. wanna paint that mouth white like cream off a pie— shit!"

he groans as your tongue falls out your mouth, jaw slack open as your big eyes look up at him, eager for his cum. long white ropes of warm cum shoot from heeseung's tip, covering more than just your tongue and lips as it shoots past that and over your nose, eyes, and even painting your forehead. "fuuuck" he drawls out as your tongue swivels around his raging tip. "so fuckin' perfect."

you can't help the moans that slip past your lips at the taste of heeseung's cum on your lips, the saltiness enabling your urge to want more just as your husband is slapping your ass, hand to cheek with a type of heat that could battle the sun outside, "darling— i'm getting close. y'ready to cum for papa?" you crane your head around, cum still stuck to your pretty face as you look at your husband over your shoulder.

"yes, baby. please cum in me— wanna cum so bad, please!" your begging is like church bells to sunghoon's ears, pretty and soft mixed with a playful whine that he just loves so much. it's why he loved to tease you, he loved to make you whine and whimper for him. "fuck— don't say that baby" he starts, voice low and deep like a growl from his chest.

"y'know how bad i wanna make you a mama." his thrusts get harder and faster the more he thinks about you pregnant and swollen with his child. "please, hoonieee— i'll be such a good mama, i promise. please cum in me." your begging was more than enough for him to fill your pussy with his cum, pussy still clenching around him with every thrust, never wanting to let him go. "yeah, c'mon hoonie—" heeseung interrupts, dragging his fingers across your face to feed you the cum that's dripping on your cheeks.

"look at her— she wants to be mama so bad. fill her up or else you're a bad husband."

it was heeseung's turn to antagonize sunghoon now, a sly grin on his face as sunghoon's eyes barely open with a hooded glare.

"cum f'me right now, darling. cum on this cock and i'll give you all the kids you want, mama."

a chorus of cries, whimpers, moans, and low grunts from both men fill your ears as sunghoon's cum spills into your cunt, white leaking from your folds as the cum overflows inside of you like a flood. "fuck— just like that darling!" sunghoon's grip on your hips is enough to leave memories of this night forever if a child wasn't memory enough in the future.

"yeah— bet you're so full. aren't ya sweetheart?" heeseung asks you, thumb hooked into your mouth as you nod, eyes round and doe as you look at him through your fluffy cum covered lashes. "so perfect…" heeseung says under his breath just as sunghoon is grunting like an animal from behind you, grip finally loosening on your flesh as he pulls his cock out of your soaking wet cunt.

the feeling of his cock absent from inside of leaves behind the warmth of both their cum mixing together at the deepest parts of your cunt— surely enough to leave you with child.

"good job, darling." sunghoon says, voice now soft and devoid of any type of roughness or aggression.

your body falls limp on the mattress as both men leave open mouth kisses alongside your back. sunghoon leaving tender kisses on your burning ass while heeseung kisses away the ache in your shoulders. "stay right here, darling. i'm just gon' show heeseung out the door and run you a bath, hmm?" you nod, eyes gently shut as you hear them shuffling beside you. heeseung throws his clothes back on while sunghoon wraps a towel around his waist.

the two men walk in silence as pride swells in the both of them.

when they reach the front door, the sun's burnt into a blaze of purple and orange against the blue of the sky, goldie is patiently sat where she was left, and the heat has long turned into a steady cool breeze.

"you've got a good one on your hands, park." heeseung says while untying his horse from the wooden pole.

sunghoon smiles to himself— more proud than ever at not only how good you took the both of them, but how well you listened to him and didn't dare cum with another man's cock stuffed inside your cunt. it reassured him that no matter how many times he saw you give heeseung flirty eyes, that at the end of the day he was the man you'd call your husband and soon, the father of your children.