#dark jay

like the time jake got stupidly drunk at a house party at the age of seventeen, and jay had to haul his half–conscious ass back through the window of his bedroom while sunghoon knocked on the front door and entertained jake’s father from finding out.

or the time jay accidentally broke the school’s window and to prevent him from getting suspended and kicked out of the football team, jake stepped forward and took the blame—”i threw it too hard to impress a girl, sorry.” he flashed that innocent puppy smile and accepted the week’s detention without complaint. jay never forgot it and paid him back by covering his shifts for two whole weeks.

but the real payment was the tighter bond between them.

“ride or die,” sunghoon had said once. and in a world where friendships were shallow and people stabbed each other in the back, the three of them were unbreakable. like a stream of water, it cannot be cut—

but even the strongest stream can be diverted when the faucet is turned.

——

 funny enough—the first time jay saw you was during one of his football friendly matches. 

it was a casual friday afternoon game, nothing serious, just the medic faculty versus the business for bragging rights and free drinks afterward. jay was on the field in his number 99 jersey, sweat already soaking the back of his neck under the orange sun.

his girlfriend, minji, was sitting in the small bleachers with a couple of her friends, waving at him every time he glanced her way. he’d blown her a kiss before the whistle, the perfect boyfriend move that made his teammates tease him later.

and you weren’t even supposed to be there for him. 

you were merely just a friend with one of the strikers in his team—and had come along because he (martin) had begged you to at least pretend to cheer so he doesn’t look like a loser. you sat on the grass near the sidelines, knees pulled up in those pretty shorts and prettier top. 

you weren’t attention seeking or loud, but jay found his eyes travelling to you more often than he’d like to. light, genuine laughter that cut through the noise of the field and scored him square in the chest. he almost lost the ball.

and if it wasn’t after the match that everyone gathered near the benches to talk about what happened and martin pulled you in to join the conversation. you, being youself—ever so friendly and talkative you, even prettier up close and funnier than most girls he know—chatted with the rest of the boys like you’d known them for months.

jay stood there, still catching his breath, tower slung over his shoulder, watching you. the conversation flowed naturally and he found himself grinning wider than he should, eyes lingering on the way your lips curved when you smiled.

“you played so well. even if your team totally got lucky on that last goal,” you commented, casually sitting next to jay on the bench. jay laughed, humming. “yeah? that never happened by the way—so it was probably your luck.”

you raised an eyebrow, amused, turning your body slightly toward him. “you think so?”

the way you said it made something in his chest tighten in the best way possible. most girls would either just giggle or try too hard, but you looked like you were genuinely enjoying the back–and–forth. 

he leaned back on the bench, resting his elbows behind him. his jersey clung to his chest, damp with sweat, but neither of you care. for once, he was grateful his girlfriend wasn’t around.

“maybe,” he replied, that smirk tugging at his lips. “or maybe you’re bad luck for the other team. every time you cheered us, their defense fell apart. i saw it.”

you let out the laugh that got him almost distracted on the field earlier—and shook your head. “you’re so smooth, jay. do you use that line on every girl who watches your game?” 

uh, oh. 

his smirk faltered for half a second. he let out a quick, awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck to play it cool. “of course not,” he said, chuckling a little too loudly. “that would be way too cheesy. i swear i’m not that kind of guy.”

you tilted your head, studying him with glint in your eyes. then, casually, almost too casually, you dropped it—

“i thought so! you kept blowing kisses to a girl earlier. i saw it.”

jay went quiet.

the easy smile on his face froze. his fingers tightened slightly around his water bottle as the words landed. he swore—he swore—he didn’t mean to come off as flirty or anything, but it just… came out naturally. 

like it was just you.

for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. he hadn’t even realised you’d noticed that. 

“yeah, well…” he started, voice trailing off. he looked away for a second, heartbeat drumming fast, searching for the right words that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete asshole. 

before he could finish, you broke into a soft giggle and waved your hand lightly in front of him. “i’m just joking, hehe,” you said, mischievous. “relax. you don’t have to look so guilty.”

jay let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the tension in his shoulder easing as he laughed along. you were teasing him, but the way you said it so playfully made his tummy flip. 

he finally met your eyes, watching the way your lips curved when you smiled like that. relax. you don’t have to look so guilty. then, before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it out to you. 

“put your number in,” he said, smoother and calmer now. “next time we play, you could be our lucky charm again.” 

you’re not stupid. if anything, martin would’ve invited you to the next matches anyway. but you took the phone anyway—fingers brushed against his. you saved yourself as yn, followed with a little soccer ball emoji and handed it back.

“don’t blow me kisses though,” you teased lightly as you stood up, brushing invisible dust from your shorts.

jay watched your back as you walked away, phone warm in his hand, your contact staring back at him. it’s harmless—it’s just a number and you’re just a girl who was easy and fun to talk to.

but the further you got from him, the more it’s clear to jay that he was going to text you tonight. 

and the first turn of the faucet happened—quietly, and completely without anyone knowing, not even jay himself.

——

“oh my gosh, my player,” you moaned sensually, tipping your head back as jay lifted you up around his waist with ease. 

his strong hands gripped the back of your thighs, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pressed you against the cool metal locker. the contrast between the cold surface on your back and the heat of his body made you shiver.

jay’s mouth was on yours instantly—hungry, deep, messy, and horny. he kissed you like he’d been starving from it since the first whistle was blown, tongue sliding against yours while low groans rumbled deep from his chest. 

“fuck baby, you feel so good like this,” he rasped between kisses, grinding his hard cock against your bare pussy. the thin fabric of his shorts was the only thing separating you, and you could feel every inch of him throbbing, already leaking like a little boy for you. 

“my little reward.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair as you rocked your hips against him, chasing the friction. “hngh—you did so well… how are you so good at everything?” another sensual moan slipped from your lips when he shifted and rubbed the head of his cock against your swollen clit. 

“am i?” his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and biting lightly, leaving faint marks he knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t stop himself from making. one hand stayed under your thigh, holding you up effortlessly, while the other squeezed your tit, thumb flicking over your perky nipple until you whimpered. 

“look at you,” he murmured against your skin, voice hoarse with list. “so fucking wet and ready for me after i won. you like being my secret celebration, baby?” 

you nodded eagerly, pussy twitching and clenching around nothing but the idea of jay’s thick cock inside. sensing that—he pulled his shorts down just enough to free his cock, thick and heavy, tip glistening with a bead of precum. 

“i want you—fuck me, please,” you cry out, leaning to kiss him.

without another word, jay lined himself up and pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust—stretching you open, filling you completely. a broken moan tore from your throat as he bottomed out, walls clenching tight around him. the guy buried his face in your neck, groaning loudly at how perfectly you took him. 

“shit… so tight,” he breathed, staying still to let you adjust—but not for long before he started moving, sensual, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his cock against every sensitive spot. “oh god, yesyesyes, just like that,”

the locker rattled with every thrust. your legs tightened around his waist, heels dragging into his lower back as he fucked you against the cool metal, mouth never leaving your skin. he kissed, licked, and sucked at your neck and collarbone while his pace gradually picked up, turning deeper and harder.

“mine tonight,” he whispered roughly, one hand slipping between your bodies to rub tight circles on your wet, sensitive clit. you moaned louder, bud ticklish and feeling like you were going to squirt—which you did, just seconds after. 

jay’s so good and gentle with how he’s treating you it’s making your chest flutter. “yours, jay, yours,” you gasped as the head of his cock knocked against your cervix—jerking your body upwards with each pound.

“my pretty little trophy… taking my cock so well after the game.”

your moans grew louder, more desperate, echoing softly in the empty, locked, locker room as he drove into you again and again and again—sensual, hot, sinful, and so fucking good.

jay’s breathing turned ragged, forehead pressed to yours as he chased both your highs, the wet slap of your skin and your shared gasps filling the air. the player ended up cumming—shooting ropes and ropes of warm jizz on your pretty little face, landing some on your head.

seeing how well you’re cleaning his cock—jay realised he was far from done with you.

——

for sim jaeyun, everything had its place, neatly stacked in order of importance.

first came his family—always. then his friends (sunghoon and jay at top, then the rest of the people he knows). layla, his border collie, squeezed into that top tier too. studies came strongly after that because he believed it’s 100% his future—

and finally, only then—way down the list—came fun.

and fun included his girlfriend, chloe. she was sweet, understanding, and never complained when he told her he had to study late or hang out with the boys. jake liked that about her—she knew her place in his priorities, and she respected it.

he never meant to rearrange that list. 

“sorry we can’t do this at my apartment,” jake said, rubbing the back of his neck. “my girlfriend’s been staying over a lot lately and… yeah. i didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”

you and jake shared multiple classes since the start of the semester, sitting in the same lecture halls but he’d never really talked to you. not until the professor paired you two together for a major project that counted half of the final grade.

now here you were—tucked away in a quiet, secluded corner of the library on the third floor. jake sat across from you, laptop open, highlighter between his teeth as he scribbled notes. you leaned back in your chair, legs crossed, a small knowing smile playing on your lips.

unlike the easy friendliness you’d shown jay, something about jake brought out a slightly different side of you—a bit more teasing, more… dominant? like you enjoyed watching the good boy squirm a little. 

“that’s okay, jakey,” you replied, tilting your head, eyes locked onto his. “anywhere is fine at least we get it done, right?”

jake blinked, caught off guard by the nickname but didn’t comment on it. his cheeks warmed slightly, but he laughed it off. “yeah… exactly. studies first, you know? gotta keep priorities straight.” 

you hummed, leaning forward on your elbow, chin resting on your hand as you watched him. jake had to do everything just from glancing at your cleavage sticking out from your shirt. the way your gaze lingered made the air between you feel a little heavier, more intimate—and jake figured this was why most girls wouldn’t want their boyfriends around a girl.

a pretty one at that too.

“that’s good. keeping everything in order like that, hehe.”

the words slipped out casually but jake’s ears turned pink anyway. he shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper–aware of how secluded this corner was—no one could really see the two of you back here.

he tried to steer the conversation back to the project, pointing at the screen as you scooted closer beside him. “so… for this second, i was thinking we could—”

“oh—you typed quantitative wrong here—” 

you leaned in and pointed at the typo on his laptop screen. in the process, your chest brushed against his arm, soft and warm through your thin top that jake swore he felt the sponge of your bra. 

jake froze.

his breath hitched, eyes widening for a split second as he felt the brief press of your chest against his bicep. a rush of heat shot straight through him and you felt the way he tensed up.

“oh—shit, sorry,” you said quickly, pulling back a little, though your voice didn’t sound even an ounce of guilt if he was being honest. “didn’t mean to interrupt you like that.”

his mouth went dry. he could still feel the ghost of the touch on his arm, and his brain was suddenly struggling to form normal sentences. “n—no, it’s okay,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks now matching the pink of his ears.

“don’t worry about it.”

you bit your lip to hide a small smile, watching the way composed jake was suddenly flustered. the good boy who kept his priorities straight was starting to crack a little. instead of moving back, you stayed right where you were—shoulders almost touching his, close enough that your perfume filled his nostrils. 

you pointed at the screen again, this time more carefully, your nails tapping on the lcd. your voice dropped softer, with a hint of light dominant slipping through.  

“see? right here. fix it, jakey.”

jake swallowed hard, nodding quickly as his fingers moved to the keyboard. but it was hard to focus on the project anymore—not when every time you shifted even slightly, he became hyper–aware of how close you were, and how dangerous his mind was playing at.

that damn cleavage and top.

maybe it was because jake met you during one of his ‘studying’ sessions, but you were quick to climb up his carefully built hierarchy. just like jay, you were easy to talk to, quick with your thoughts, and somehow jake liked… being told what to do. shamelessly.

“you’re so good at this,” you hummed softly, scooting your chair just a tiny bit closer until your knee brushed his under the table. “what’s something you’re not good at?” 

you meant the project—but you also knew men like jake would divert the meaning elsewhere. something jake’s not good at is probably standing on his morals and keeping his priorities straight. 

not when he’s easily swayed like this.

——

just two months after that, jake’s stacked priorities crumbled.

parked in a quiet, dimly lit corner of the campus parking lot at 11:49 p.m., the backseat of his car fogged up. he had a chemistry exam the next day—yet here he was. 

“jakey…” you whispered against his mouth, voice low and teasing as you cupped his cheeks, fingers tapping against his skin. “you’re thinking too much again.” you continued, straddling his lap and brushing your lips against his.

“it’s late…” he breathed, even as his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you down harder against the obvious bulge in his jeans. “test t’morrow… chloe… fuck, this is so wrong.”

you pouted playfully, rolling your hips and grinding against him in the meantime. “but you’ll ace the test tomorrow anyway, why bother?” you hummed, pressing your lips against him. jake groaned, head falling back against the seat. you purposely ignored the latter problem.

his morals screamed at him, but his body betrayed him completely.

clothes were pushed aside rather than fully removed—your skirt flipped up, panties pulled to the side, his jeans shoved down just enough. he had you on all fours, exactly how he liked it best: doggy style.

as all up for him to watch as it jiggles—yeah, fuck yeah. jake’s hands gripped your hips tightly as he pushed into you from behind in one, full, deep thrust—instantly burying himself deep with a broken moan.

“shit—you feel so good, yn,” he gasped, forehead pressing between your shoulder blades for a second. the angle was beyond perfect—the cramped car, and your tight, wet, cunt while being so deep he could feel every clench around him. 

“uh huh? what else?”

he started moving, savouring the way your back arched for him, the way you pushed back to meet every thrust, the way your ass jiggled when his pelvis slapped ‘em. “so tight, your pussy’s so tight, yn,” he rasped, picking up his pace. jake’s hips snapped harder, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the space of the car. “i love it—love your pussy,”

jake’s cock was probably the longest you’ve had, reaching so deep your fingers, toys, and other boys had never been able to. “oh god, jakey, you’re so good,” you moaned aloud, palms flat against the fogged window.

“you’re ruining me,” jake groaned, one hand sliding up to push you down lower, chest pressed against the seat while your ass stayed up for him. “can’t stop thinkin’ about this—about you.”

his balls slapped against your wet pussy, dragging you velvet walls with each time he pulled out. you moaned sensually, gripping the edge of the seat as he fucked you faster, coming close. “then don’t stop, just do me all the time.”

that pushed him over the edge. 

the boy’s grip tightened. he pulled you back onto his cock, deep with every thrust. the car rocked with his movements. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, sweat dripping down his temple, morals completely shattered as he took you exactly how he loved—deep, rough, playful.

“want your cum, gosh—fuck, cum all over me,” you gasped, saliva leaking out from the edge of your mouth. your pussy squelched with every thrust, juices splattering on the leather seat. what a shame to the girlfriend, really.

he leaned over you, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other braced beside your head, pounding into you harder as he began chasing his end. “shouldn’t… i really shouldn’t…” he groaned, voice strained and broken.

“c’mon, be a good boy—give it to me, cumcumcum,”

the praise pushed him over—with a final moan, jake pulled out of your dripping pussy. he flipped you onto your back in one motion, trapping you between his knees. his hand pumped his slick, wet cock furiously, eyes dark and wild as he hovered above you.

you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes—lips parted, chest heaving, already arching your back and pushing your tits together for him. his abs tensed, jaw clenched tight.

“shit—i’m cumming—!”

thick liquidity, warm ropes of cum shot across your chest in messy spurts, painting your tits and collarbones white. some landed right on your nipple, dripping slowly down the curve which only caused jake to cum some more.

fuck, that’s so fucking hot—he thought, swallowing the lump in his throat as he kept stroking himself through it, milking every last drop until his cock twitched empty and his whole body shuddered. 

you licked around your lips, smearing jake’s cum all over your pretty tits. it looked like you were lactating his cum. 

“fuck… am i good enough, yn?” he murmured, chest heaving. “look at what you do to me.”

——

saturday night and sunghoon’s at a popular off–campus club with a group of his classmates. while he’s not much of a party guy, he came because one of them kept dragging him anyway, and he knew he couldn’t keep rejecting their advances for so long.

he’s sitting in the booth area, nursing drunks, bored, and detached while everyone else is loud and drunk. sunghoon doesn’t dance. doesn’t flirt. just watch.

that’s when he saw you.

you’re on the dance floor with your girlfriends, just being effortlessly sexy and attractive—the way your body swayed, hair sticking on your neck from the heat, the same curve of your smile that jay was starstrucked with. 

and that damn black dress that hugged your curves just right.

sunghoon’s eyes locked on you instantly, he didn't smile when your eyes met his as well across the floor—just watching. instead of looking away shyly, you held his gaze for a few seconds, then your eyes travelled from the top of his head down to his shoes, and  gave him a slow smile before turning back to your friends.

that was all it took for him.

sunghoon stood up, leaving his classmates’ drinks and stuffs on the table, and walked straight onto the crowd. he didn’t say anything at first—just slid in behind you, one hand slightly resting on your waist as he spun you around to meet him. 

“hey,” he murmured, tall frame towering over you. “what’s that about?”

you tilted your head slightly, a playful, faux innocence smile playing on your lips. “what’s what about?”

his eyebrows furrowed just a fraction, but the corner of his mouth twitched—the tiniest hint of amusement and a thought of, wow, the audacity. his hand stayed on your waist, thumb pressing lightly into the fabric of your dress, holding you in place. 

“that look you gave me,” he said, shrugging. “are you daring me?”

you let out a soft laugh that almost sounded like a scoff, eyes sparkling and laced with a kind of bratness that he never knew he was into. you didn’t pull away but instead stepped a little closer, letting your chest brush against his as you looked up at him through your lashes.

“and if i am?” you replied, sweetly. “what are you gonna do about it?”

morality had always been quite a blur to sunghoon.

he never lost sleep over it but rules, right and wrong, loyalty—they were just concepts that applied to other people. as long as it didn’t affect his image or his life or his close circle greatly, he didn’t care enough to draw hard lines.

and tonight, those blurry lines had just walked out of the club with him.

sunghoon didn’t say much as he guided you toward his black sedan by holding your hand in his. you glanced up at him, still wearing that same little smile. “you always drag girls out of clubs without asking their name?”

he unlocked the car with a soft beep and opened the front door for you. his eyes met yours—completely unbothered. “sunghoon,” he said simply. “and i don’t bring girls out anywhere.”

you let out a hum, but still slid into the front seat without hesitation. he followed right after, closing the door behind him. the inside of his car smelled strongly of his cologne, and as he started the engine, he didn’t bother with small talks. didn’t ask where you lived, nor did he offer to take you home. 

sunghoon pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the city centre with his one hand occasionally brushing your thigh. you watched the streetlights flicker across his jawline and the way his expression said nothing eventhough the tension between you two in the car reeked with want.

“so… where are we going?”

“a hotel. closer than my place.”

——

the door had barely clicked shut before sunghoon had you pressed against the wall, mouth crashing into yours in a deep. hungry kiss. there was nothing gentle about it—his lips moved against yours with need, tongue sliding in immediately to taste you as one hand gripped your jaw, and the other pressed on your hip. 

and you—you kissed him back just as greedily, fingers digging into his shoulders, tugging at his shirt like you wanted it off yesterday. “ngh—hngh,” you moaned into his mouth, tongue intertwining and sucking on one another.

sunghoon broke the kiss only long enough to pull your dress up and over your head at once, letting it drop to the floor. his hands were on you instantly—squeezing your tits, sliding down to grip your ass, yanking you flush against him so you could feel how hard he was through his pants.

“fuck,” he muttered against your lips, voice low. he bit your bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue before kissing you again, deeper this time. 

you moaned into his mouth, hands working frantically to unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. the moment his bare chest pressed against yours, sunghoon groaned and lifted you up. your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he carried you across the room, lips still on yours.

he dropped you onto the bed, the mattress dipping. before you could even catch your breath, sunghoon was crawling over you, shoving his pants and boxers fully down to free his thick, heavy cock.

and jesus—unlike jay or jake’s, sunghoon was packing. 

“you’re so hot,” sunghoon licked his lips, hooked his fingers into your panties, ripped them down your legs, and spread your thighs wide open with his knees. he looked down at you for one brief second, then lined himself up. 

“are you gonna fuck me? without even knowing my name?”

sunghoon paused, the corner of his mouth twitching into a cocky smirk. finally, he didn’t look cold. he pushed just the tip inside you, teasing, before answering.

“i know you, yn,”

your eyes almost widened, a mix of surprise and arousal flashing across your features. 

“how?”

he leaned down closer, one hand gripping your thigh as he slowly sank another inch deeper, stretching your tight cunt open. “i overhead your friends,” he murmured, hissing through his teeth as your pussy engulfed him. 

you let out a soft moan, back arching as the familiar burn of being stretched came back to you. “fuck… you’re really something, hoonie.”

sunghoon bottomed out with a groan, burying himself to the hilt inside you. for a second, he stayed still—letting you feel and adjust every inch of him, his grip on your thighs tightened. you arched your back, eyes half–lidded as you looked up at him, that spark still burning bright behind your eyes. 

“fuck me good, hoonie,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip as you began palming and playing with your tits, tweaking the perky buds. “make it worth me leaving my friends for you.”

“shh—shut up and let me do the work.”

that night, sunghoon fucked you for hours—the bed creaked loudly beneath as he fucked you deep and fast, hips snapping against yours with every thrust. his hands held your thighs spread wide, keeping you open as he pounded. the wet sounds of your bodies echoing in the hotel room.

“fuck—your cunt feels s’good,” sunghoon moaned, tipping his head against the headrest, jaw clenched tight. you hovered right over his hard, slick cock. sunghoon’s eyes never left yours as you sank down onto him, taking every inch until your ass met his lap.

a broken moan left your lips at the deeper angle. sunghoon groaned too, his fingers digging harder. “look at you,” he murmured, eyes roaming over your face, your bouncing, marked, tits, lips parted in pleasure with your tongue sticking out. 

fuck. this is why sunghoon loved cowgirl. watching every lewd, pretty expression, every flutter of your eyelashes, your mouth opened to moan his name—because of this cock. 

you started moving, rolling your hips in sensual circles, then bouncing on his cock with more force. his hands guided you, but he let you do most of the work, just like he liked it. his gaze stayed locked on your face the entire time. 

“you’re so big, hoonie, oh jesus fuck,” you moaned eagerly, biting your lip. with each time you bounced on it, the head of his cock kissed your cervix sweetly and it felt so fucking good. he pulled you down closer by the nape of your neck, and kissed you deeply while you rode him. 

“that’s it… just like that, baby,” he rasped against your mouth, kissing the corner of your lips, then your cheek, then your jaw. “ride my cock like a good girl—let me see how pretty you look when you cum on me again.”

his free hand moved between your bodies to circle and pinch your perky buds. the combination made your rhythm falter, thighs shaking as you bounced faster, chasing the high. 

sunghoon kept watching you—obsessed. he kissed you again and again, swallowing your moans, occasionally bucking his hips to meet your movements and driving himself even deeper.

“cummin’ soon, babe?” he murmured against your lips, now moving his hand to rub that sensitive, wet, clit. “cum on me—then i’ll fill you up.”

you could only moan his name as the pleasure built higher and higher, your hips moving desperately. 

sunghoon, who never thought he’d ever cheat on sooha, let alone creampie another girl he just met raw—watched your face with almost possessive gaze. he had always been careful, even with someone who has little to no morals. 

and you—who had literally never let anyone cum inside you before—were seconds away from letting him be the first.

your thighs shook as the orgasm crashed over you. “fuck—!” you cried out, clenching hard around him, hips stuttering as you came and squirted all over his cock. the feeling of your pussy pulsing and gushing around him pushed sunghoon over the edge. 

thick, hot spurts of semen flooded inside you, filling you up the very first time. he kept thrusting through it, pushing his cum deeper. 

one night stand—this won’t ruin anything for sunghoon.

right?

——

“so,” jay started, leaning back against the railing with that smirk of his, “valentine’s next week. you guys already got plans locked in?” 

jake nodded, smiling. “don’t even say it. i booked the restaurant last month because i know she’ll kill me if i forget. we’ll probs just have dinner together.” he shook his head, sipping his canned beer. “gotta keep the girlfriend happy, right?”

sunghoon took a slow sip of his as well, shrugging and unbothered as ever. “i’ll probably just take sooha out on a breakfast and shopping. i got plans that night.” 

jay raised an eyebrow, turning to him with curiousity. “oh? what are you doing that night?”

he didn’t even flinch, just stared down at the small puddle of water around the can opening where his mouth kissed it. “bringing yeji out,” he said, absentmindedly swirling the alcohol in the can. “she’s been begging me to take her out. figured valentine’s night is as good as any.”

jake let out a laugh, completely buying it. “damn, she’s gonna milk you dry.” he commented, then glanced at jay from where he’s sitting. “what about you? something big again?”

“nah, think minji wants something intimate this time.” he hummed, looking out at the yard—people were chatting, dancing, and drunk to their heads. “maybe i’ll cook and we’ll spend the day at mine. who knows.” 

“what a romance.”

the three of them continued talking easily—hopping from one topic to another—arguing whose girlfriend was more demanding, whose more whipped, and reminiscing about things they’ll never get back. 

none of them even knew that they each shared the same secret—and little did they know, she was walking around the party downstairs right under their noses. 

down in the crowded kitchen, you leaned against the counter, red cup in hand, while heeseung stood in front of you—close enough that his arm rested on the counter beside your waist. 

“oh, i don’t have a boyfriend,” you replied, taking a small sip from your cup while holding his gaze. heeseung grinned, leaning in a little closer and lowering his voice so only you could hear him over the loud music. 

“good. because i’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now. you’re always so hard to catch alone.” his fingers lightly tapped the counter next to your hip. “what do you say? let me take you somewhere nice this valentines?”

you bit your lip, pretending to think about it—

but before you could answer, a familiar voice cut through the noise. 

“yn?” 

sunghoon.

he was frowning. the usual expression on his face didn’t change much except for the tightness of his jaw, and the way his gaze flicked to heeseung’s hand near your hip.

heeseung turned his head, still smiling. “oh, hey man—”

sunghoon didn’t let him finish.

without a word, he reached out, wrapped his fingers around your waist and firmly pulled you away from the counter and away from heeseung. “come with me,” he said quietly, already leaving the kitchen.

you barely had time to shoot heeseung an apologetic smile before sunghoon guided you through the crowd, up the stairs, and into one of the empty guest rooms on the second floor. he closed the door—but didn’t lock it—the party noise instantly muffled.

“the fuck was that?” he asked, frowning and confused. “heeseung? really? you let him get that close to you?”

sunghoon took a step closer, towering over, eyes narrowed. 

“i thought we had an understanding,” he continued, laced with unfair possessiveness. “you didn’t even tell me you’d be here—then i caught you with some dude flirting?” 

before you could form a reply, his hand came up to grip your cheeks, forcing you to meet his gaze. “you couldn’t wait till i take you out on valentines?”

you looked up at him, a scoff escaped you—and a small smile tugged at your lips. “so you can have fun with sooha… but i can’t do the same with heeseung?”

his jaw tightened; and for a second, he just stared at you, thumb brushing over your lower lips. he let out a low, breathy scoff, almost a laugh—but there was no humour in it. “you’re really testing me,” he murmured, clicking his tongue.

“sooha’s my girlfriend. she gets breakfast and shopping because that’s what keeps everything quiet. you…” he paused, free hand slid down to your waist where he squeezed the flesh. “you get me at night. isn’t that better? i’m about to fuck you all night and you’re gettin’ jealous over some fucking breakfast?”

he tilted your head slightly, fingers digging into your flesh. 

“don’t compare yourself to her. and don’t let another guy put his hands near you again.”

he crashed his lips against yours in a hungry, possessive kiss, gripping your jaw tighter as he devoured your mouth. the kiss was messy and intense—tongues sliding, teeth grazing, low groans between you.

you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers threading into his hair and tugging hard, making him groan into your mouth.

“fuuuccckkk,” he grunted between the kiss—turning and walking you backwards until your legs hut the edge of the bed. without breaking the kiss, sunghoon pushed you down onto the mattress and climbed on top of you, body pressing into the sheets. 

his hands roamed greedily—one sliding under your dress to grip your thigh, the other pinning your wrists above your head. “oh my, hngh,” you moaned softly, arching up into him as he ground his hips down against you. sunghoon bit your bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue.

“always pissin’ me off—”

his phone suddenly started ringing on the nightstand.

sunghoon ignored it initially, lips moving down to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark as the ringing continued. “jesus—shut the fuck up…” he murmured, merely glancing at his phone. he assumed it was just one of his friends, or just anyone but—

“sunghoon, you in here—?”

jake’s voice died in his throat. jay stood right beside him, phone in his hand—both of them froze in the doorway, eyes wide as they took in the scene. 

you lying on the bed, dress hiked up, lips swollen from kissing. sunghoon on top of you, one hand under your dress, his lips glistened from saliva, hair messy from your fingers.

for a long, suffocating second, nobody moved. 

sunghoon’s head snapped up, eyes widening in genuine shock, his expression completely shattered—he was caught. fucking caught. by his own bestfriends. they weren’t supposed to fucking know that he’s not loyal to sooha. the same two guys he swore loyalty to since teenangers.

the colour drained from his face. 

jake and jay stared, wide–eyed, stunned. 

“...yn?” jake breathed out first, voice barely above a whisper, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. jay’s mouth opened, then closed—replaced by pure disbelief. instead of addressing the elephant in the room—which was sunghoon fucking cheating—your name came out first. 

the realisation hit them both at the same time—how the fuck did all of them came to know you? if jay knew you because of his affair, and jake knew you too—and sunghoon too—then were they all having an affair with you?

they’d been secretly fucking the same girl for months—?!

you, still pinned under sunghoon, felt your stomach drop.

“oh my fucking gosh…” you whispered, eyes wide, a nervous laugh bubbling out of you before you could stop it. you propped yourself up on your elbows, hand flew up to cover your mouth, but it was useless. 

the shock, the absurdity, the fact that you had been playing all three of them without any of them knowing… it was all crashing down at once. 

sunghoon finally pulled his hand out from under your dress and sat up slightly. he looked between his two bestfriends, voice strained. “look—this isn’t what it looks like.”

jake let out a broken, disbelieving laugh. “you’re on top of her, dude.”

jay’s grip tightened—he stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time. 

“you.. and sunghoon?” his voice cracked. “how long has this been going on?”

the room was thick and silent for half a second.

then it clicked. 

sunghoon’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at jay—then slowly turned his head toward jake. the realisation hit him. “wait…” he muttered. “how the fuck do you know her?”

jake’s face went pale—he blinked rapidly and swallowed the lump in his throat. “yeah… how do you know yn?”

jay’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. his gaze flicked between you and sunghoon, confusion turning into dawning horror. sunghoon sat up straighter, but not off you. all three boys were now staring directly at you.

“how do you know jay?”

“and how the hell do you know jake?”

“you and sunghoon—?”

now the focus shifted entirely on you.

you were still lying on the bed, dress rumpled, lips swollen, heart hammering in your chest. three pairs of eyes—shocked, jealous, and confused—were locked on you. 

“i—” 

you tried to sit up, tugging your dress down with shaky hands. “i—i didn’t know? ah, i swear… it just… happened? i mean—”

you were clearly flustered, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “i never thought—i didn’t know you guys knew each other—?”

before you could finish, jake reached behind him and closed the door with a soft click, locking the four of you inside. both of them walked closer to the bed, their expressions shifting from confusion to something more of—betrayal and disbelief.

jay ran a hand through his hair, letting out a short laugh. “wow… you’ve been fucking all of us?” his voice was low, eyes wide. “our own friend group?”

why didn’t they blame each other—? you thought, swallowing the lump in your throat. you guys were the asshole cheaters in the first place! so they could cheat on their girlfriends, but god forbids a girl have fun with multiple guys?

“have you been playing us the whole time? jake asked. “letting jay fuck you, me, now sunghoon pinning you down like that?”

just as you were about to open your mouth, sunghoon squished your cheeks together and slammed his lips against yours roughly—teeth clashing and grazing your lips. you whimpered into the kiss, hands instinctively grabbing his shirt. 

when sunghoon finally pulled back, you grasped for air. his thumb dragged across your botton lip. “there’s no point hiding anymore, is there?”

the tension snapped. 

jay moved first, climbing onto the bed and grabbing your wrist, pulling you toward him. “c’mere, baby.” jake was right behind him, kneeling on your other side. sunghoon stayed where he was, between your knees, watching as his two bestfriends started touching you.

in seconds, your dress was being yanked up and over your head. hands were everywhere—jake’s mouth on your neck, jay’s hands squeezing your tits, sunghoon’s fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down your legs. 

you were panting, head spinning from the sudden overload.

“look at her,” jay murmured, voice thick as he pinched your nipple, eliciting a moan. “pretty little side chick… been taking all three of us like a whore.” jake groaned, kissing down your chest. “and we thought we were the only ones… fuck, that’s so hot.”

sunghoon gripped your jaw again, turning your face toward him. “open your mouth.”

the second you did, and he kissed you again—rough and deep—while jay and jake worked together pleasing your tits. jay’s hand wandered along your tummy—down to your bare, wet cunt. 

his fingers slid between your folds, groaning when he felt how wet you already were. “shit, so soaked.”

“fuckin’ dripping for us already,” sunghoon said, moving to give jake a space to settle between your spread legs. “turn over,” sunghoon ordered, commanding as he grabbed your hips. “on your hands and knees now, c’mon.”

your body obeyed before your brain could catch up—which shocked jake a little since with him, you were never this obedient. you were flipped onto all fours in the middle of the bed, ass up, back arched, completely exposed.

jake gripped your asscheeks, spreading them wide enough as he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly from your clit, all the way up to your dripping hole. “fuck, taste s’good,” he moaned, his cock beneath his pants twitched. he dove back in, licking and sucking messily while jay knelt in front of you. he tilted your chin up, hard cock already freed from his pants, thick and leaking. 

“open that pretty mouth, baby.”

you parted your lips and he instantly pushed the head of his cock past them, sliding deep into your warm mouth with a satisfied groan. “oh, fuuuuck… your mouth always feels s’good…”

sunghoon stayed at your side, one hand already palming and stroking his cock while the other reached underneath to rub circles on your clit as jake french–kissed your pussy. “look at you,” sunghoon murmured. “what a slut… taking all taken men at once. this what you wanted, isn’t it?”

jake hummed against your pussy and you felt the curve of his mouth forming into a smile—the vibration making your thighs quiver. jay thrusted into your mouth, hand tangled in your hair. “been screwing each of us behind the other’s backs…” jay groaned, pushing deeper until you gagged. 

“greedy little girl.”

your muffled moan around jay’s cock was the only answer they needed. 

jake was the first to pull back from between your legs, shiny with your juices. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, swimming with pure need. “i’m going first,” he said, settling behind you. “been dying to fuck you again since the last time.”

sunghoon and jay didn’t argue. they simply shifted positions.

jake moved behind you, gripping your hips tightly and lining up his hard cock with your dripping entrance. without any warning or heads up, he pushed in with one deep thrust—bottoming out in a single stroke. 

“oh, fuuuck…” he groaned aloud, head falling back as your tight walls clenched around him. “still so ’ tight… missed this pussy so much.” jake started thrusting—deep strokes that rocked your body forward.

at the same time, sunghoon knelt in front of you. he grabbed your hair gently but firmly, guiding your mouth to his cock. “open up,” he ordered quietly. you obeyed, lips parting as he slid his thick length into your mouth. sunghoon let out a groan, eyes half–lidded as he watched you take him inch by inch.

jay moved to your side, kneeling close enough that his cock was right next to your face. your hand instinctively wrapped around his length, stroking his wet cock while you sucked his best friend’s. 

the room filled with wet, porno sounds—jake’s hips slapping against your ass as he fucked you from behind, the slick sounds of your mouth working sunghoon’s dick, and your hand pumping jay’s length. every now and then, jake would slap you ass—gripping, squeezing, and spreading and watched as your asshole twitched. 

“aw, pretty baby,” jay grunted, wrapping his bigger hand around yours as he guided you through it out. “taking all three of us so well, mm? perfect girl.”

next to him, sunghoon scoffed. jake panted and runted like a dog—gripping your hips harder as he pounded into you. “oh—hah—you feel so good, oh fuck, i missed this so much—missed you so much.”

sunghoon glanced at jake before his hand tightened in your hair, guiding your head as he picked up his pace fucking your mouth. “that’s it… suck me just like that—how you’d do with all the other guys, babe.”

jay groaned, hips twitching into your fist. “yeah—? do you have other guys you’re fucking aside us, yn?”

you instantly shook your head as much as you could with sunghoon’s cock buried in your mouth, a desperate, muffled, “mm—mm” vibrating around him. 

“right,” sunghoon clicked his tongue. the memory of you getting hit on by heeseung playing in the back of his head. if you were able to hide jake and jay from him for months—who knew who else?

every thrust from jake pushed you forward onto sunghoon’s cock, forcing you to take him even deeper down your throat. you were gagging around him, drool slipping from the corners of your mouth but you kept sucking.

jake’s rhythm started to falter. his grip on your hips tightened almost painfully as he fucked you harder from behind. “hah—i’m close, oh god,” he groaned. “wanna fill you up—i can fill you up, right? hngh—you’ll let me?”

he slammed into you a few more times, deep and desperate, burying himself to the hilt. now—jay and sunghoon never knew jake was someone who’s into this but who were they to judge? the contrast between how you were with jake, sunghoon, and jay made them want to laugh.

with jay, you’re treated as the princess of the princess—sweet, gentle, kind words—like you’re the girlfriend. with jake, you got to order and command—and he’s always so fucking into being called a good boy. with sunghoon? with sunghoon—you’re the brat that needed some punishment. 

you nodded your head and that was all jake needed. 

“hah—cumming—” he rasped. you felt the first hot spurts of his cum flood deep inside you. the puppy boy kept grinding into you, milking every drop as he creampied you, his cock twitching. a low whine escaped your throat, muffled.

when jake finally pulled out, a thick trail of his cum leaked from your cunt.

“next,” jake panted, voice hoarse as he moved aside.

they filled you onto your back. 

the player immediately took his place between your legs, but instead of fucking you missionary, he turned you slightly onto your side. he lifted your top leg, hooking it over his hip, and instantly slid his throbbing cock into your cum–filled cunt in one thrust. 

“ah—! jay!” you moaned aloud, followed by jay’s groan. the warmth from jake’s cum wasn’t helping the situation at all. it felt so fucking good. “she’s so slippery with your cum, jake… so filthy.”

he started fucking you from the side—deep, rolling thrusts that let him hit every sensitive spot. you’re beyond embarrassed at this point. your creamy pussy that gushes cum with each thrust, how exposed and bare and wet you were for the other two boys to see. 

you wondered if this was the consequences of your actions. 

jake moved up beside your head, still breathing hard. he groped your tits greeding—how he loved them—squeezing and kneading, pinching your sweaty nipples as he leaned down to kiss and bite along your neck.

‘hngh—yn, i love these so much,” he muffled, sucking and tugging at your boobs. “so soft, you’re so squishy.” 

sunghoon shifted to your other side, cupping your jaw and pulling you into a deep, messy kiss. his tongue slid against yours while jay continued fucking you from the side, the wet sounds of his cock plunging into your creampied pussy filling the room.

sunghoon kissed you like he couldn’t bear not doing anything while the other two boys had their fun. he was almost annoyed and pissed that they just had to interrupt him having you all to himself earlier. 

“is this what you like?” jake murmured against your neck, his hands never stopping roaming. he groped your breasts, rolled your nipples between his fingers, then slid one hand down to rub your clit in lazy circles while jay thrusted into you. “taking jay’s dick right after i filled you up… you’re so hot, yn.”

“hngh—jay, oh fuck, you’re so big—” you moaned into sunghoon’s mouth in which he instantly shut you up. jay groaned, picking up the pace, hips snapping harder. “fuck. i can feel your cum every time i push in, jake. poor sweetheart, do you like this, baby?”

sunghoon pulled back from the kiss just enough to let you breathe, lips brushing yours. “answer him while he’s fucking you.”

your body trembled between the three guys as you answered: “yes, yes, yesyesyes—! i—i love all three of you, oh my fuck!” you cried out, chasing sunghoon’s lips as you began sucking his bottom lip. you moaned shamelessly into his mouth while jay’s cock dragged against your walls.  

“we love you too.”

behind you, jay smirked—and jake couldn’t help from smiling. 

“show us how much you love it, please?” jake murmured against your nipple, his fingers never slowing down—pressing and rubbing your clit. “squirt for us—make a mess all over jay’s dick.”

he began rubbing harder—and the pressure coiled fast. too fast.

before you knew it, your thighs started shaking uncontrollably. your back arched sharply as jake’s fingers and jay’s cock worked you together. “oh, i’m gonna—!”

you didn’t even get to finish. 

with a loud, broken cry, you squired around jay’s cock. clear fluid gushed out of you, soaking jay’s hips, the sheets, and jake’s hand. your whole body convulsed, pussy clenching and pulsing violently. 

“fuck—!” jay groaned, eyes rolling back as your walls squeezed him like a vice. the feeling of you squiring all over him while still full of jake’s cum pushed him over the edge. without any warning, he buried himself deep and came—thick ropes of cum shooting right inside. 

he kept grinding into you through his orgasm, pushing every drop deeper as your squirt continued to leak around his cock. 

sunghoon watched the while thing, still kissing you through your high, swallowing every broken moan and whimper. 

when jay finally stilled, panting against your shoulder, the room was filled with heavy breathing and the obscene sound of cum and squirt dripping onto the sheets. jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your nipple while his fingers slowed on your oversensitive clit.

“good girl…” jay murmured, kissing your temple. “such a perfect girl.”

jay pulled out slowly, another mix of squirt and both their cum leaking out of your used cunt like whipped cream, jay smirked, giving your ass a squeeze. 

“my turn.”

sunghoon didn’t waste a single second.

he moved between your legs, pushing them wide open as he settled on top of you in full missionary, his frame caged you in, eyes locked onto yours that always made your tummy flip. without warning, he slid two fingers deep into your cum–filled pussy, curcling them instantly.

“hah—hoonie—!” you gasped, back arching off the bed as he started fingering you—fast and deep, wet sounds loud and filthy as he stirred jake and jay’s cum inside you. “feel that, babe? he muttered. “so full already—yet so slutty for more.”

he pumped his fingers harder, scissoring them, pushing the mixed loads deeper while his thumb rub your swollen clit. your legs trembled around him, overstimulation making tears prick.

only when you were whimpering and gasping did sunghoon finally pull his fingers out. he brought them up to your mouth.

“clean ‘em.”

you obediently opened your lips, sucking his fingers clean of the messy mix of cum while he watched. then, he lined up his thick, needy cock—and pushed into you in one deep thrust, slow enough to let you feel every inch and veins of him. 

a broken moan tore from your throat.

sunghoon bottomed out, holding your hips. “shit… so warm and wet,” he breathed, and began to move. his thrusts were hard and deliberate, hips snapping forward with every stroke, driving jake and jay’s cum even deeper.

he kept you in missionary the whole time—face to face, eyes locked, his body pressed flush against yours. one hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider. the other slid up to wrap gently around your throat, holding you there.

“open your mouth.” 

you obeyed instantly, lips paring, tongue slightly out naturally.

sunghoon leaned in first. he gathered spit in his mouth and let it drop slowly onto your tongue, watching with a smirk as it landed right on your tongue. jake moved in simultaneously, hovering above you as he spat directly into your open mouth, a thick string of saliva mixing with sunghoon’s. jay too—tilted your head upward gently before spitting into your mouth as well. 

all three of their spit mixed together on your tongue—so fucking humiliating in the best way. 

“swallow, baby, c’mon,” jay murmured, kissing your cheek. sunghoon tightened his grip on your throat just a little, you swallowed the thick saliva, throat bobbing under his palm. the taste of all three of them made your pussy clench hard around sunghoon’s cock.

“fuck, she just squeezed me,” sunghoon groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you harder. “such a nasty little cumslut.”

jake chuckled, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth as he palmed your tits. jay’s hand slid down to rub your clit as sunghoon pounded into you deeply—”nasty little girl, look at you,” jay murmured, caressing your hair.

“you love being used like this? who taught you to be so slutty, baby, hm?”

sunghoon’s eyes never left yours—your half–lidded, crossed, rolled to the back glossy eyes. he fucked you relentlessly, wet squelching sounds of his cock stirring the mixed cum inside you filling the room. his hand stayed around your throat as he fucked your cunt like a fleshlight, claming while jake had his fun with your tits, and jay continued teasing your clit from the side.

you were a complete mess—trembling, moaning, drooling… barely got to focus on the moving ceiling above. your tits bounced and jiggled with every thrust—a sight jake could cum alone. 

sunghoon’s thrusts grew sharper, deeper, and more desperate. his grip on you throat tightened just a fraction as he groaned against your lips. “fuck… ‘m cummin’—”

he straightened up, canines digging into his bottom lip as he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. the hardest he’s ever ejaculated. thick, hot ropes of cum flooded and washed over deep inside you, mixing with the cum from jake and jay before. 

as usual, he kept grinding into you, pushing every drop as deep as possible while his cock twitched inside your overused, overfilled pussy.

at the same time, the two boys kneeled on either side of your head—jerking themselves off furiously above you, breathing heavily. “shit, shit, shit,” jay rasped, thick spurts of cum landing across your tits and collarbones. 

“oh, gosh, yn, please,” jake whimpered, following just right after as he painted your face and chest with more warm cum. their softened cocks rested on your chest, with jay’s twitching again as it rubbed your nipple.

you lay there, panting, body covered in their cum—tits glistening like you milked out semen, pussy leaking a creamy mix of all three of them, throat marked from sunghoon’s hands and jake’s bites, lips swollen from jay’s kisses. 

the room was silent except for heavy breathing and panting.

sunghoon pulled out—agonisingly slow—watching his thick cum drip and burst out from your stretched hole. fuck—what a sight, he thought. he wasn’t sure if this would be the last time. your pussy twitched and spasmed around nothing, thighs trembling with orgasm as you shivered. 

jay leaned to press a chaste kiss on your cheek. jake’s softened cock caressed your other cheek as the owner pumped the mixed cum back inside your puffy pussy with his fingers. sunghoon pressed a soft, loving kiss to your lips. 

“you’re our secret girl now.”

you lay between them—as the three sworn, soulmates bestfriends who used to swear they had no secrets finally agreed on one secret: they would share their perfect little side chick—away from their girlfriends, and away from all the other guys out there.

The first time you noticed him was at the corner deli. You were grabbing a late-night snack after your closing shift at the office, the fluorescent lights humming overhead, when you felt that prickling sensation on the back of your neck. You turned, and there he was—a man leaning against the cooler, tall and lean, with sharp features that seemed carved from marble. His eyes, dark and unblinking, were fixed on you. He didn’t look away when you caught him staring. He just smiled, a slow, unsettling curve of his lips.

You paid quickly and left, the bell above the door jangling too loudly. Halfway down the block, you glanced back. He was gone.

Two days later, you saw him again. This time, at the bus stop. He stood a few feet away, reading a newspaper, but you could feel his attention like a physical weight. When your bus arrived, he boarded after you, sitting across the aisle. He never looked at you directly, but his presence filled the space between you.

“Forgive me,” his voice cut through the bus’s rumble. It was smooth, low. “You dropped this.”

He was holding out a hair tie you hadn’t realized you’d lost. His fingers brushed yours as you took it. They were cool, his grip firm for just a fraction too long.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, turning to stare out the window.

“Heeseung,” he said. “My name.”

You didn’t offer yours. He already knew it. You could feel that truth in your bones.

Over the next week, Heeseung became a fixture in the periphery of your life. At the coffee shop across from your office, nursing a single espresso for hours. In the park where you ate lunch, sitting on a bench just within eyesight. He never approached again, but the message was clear: I see you. I am always seeing you.

Your boyfriend, Minho, noticed your jumpiness. “You okay, babe? You’ve been tense.”

“Just work stress,” you lied, forcing a smile.

The violation happened on a Tuesday.

You were working late again, the office empty. The cleaning crew had already passed through. As you gathered your things in the hushed, dimmed space, you heard the soft chime of the elevator arriving on your floor. Odd. You were sure you were the last one.

Footsteps, deliberate and unhurried, echoed down the marble hallway. You froze, your hand tightening around your keys. The footsteps stopped outside your glass-walled office.

Heeseung stood there, dressed in a sleek black suit, looking like he belonged. He didn’t smile this time.

“Working late is dangerous for a pretty thing like you,” he said, his voice a soft caress that made your skin crawl. He pushed the door open. It wasn’t locked. You never locked it during the day.

“What are you doing here? How did you get in?” Your voice trembled.

“The security guard is an old friend.” He stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The sound was final. “We need to talk, Y/N. About your lack of manners. I gave you my name. You never gave me yours in return.”

“Get out, or I’ll scream.”

He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. “Scream. No one will come. And if they do, I’ll tell them you invited me. That we’ve been seeing each other. That your sweet, oblivious Minho isn’t enough for you.”

He crossed the room in three long strides. You backed into your desk, the edge digging into your thighs.

“Please,” you whispered.

“Please what?” he mimicked, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. His thumb stroked your bottom lip. “You’ve been leading me on. Smiling at the bus stop, looking at me in the park. You knew what you were doing.”

“I never—”

His hand moved from your face to your throat, not squeezing, just resting, a cold, heavy band. “Don’t lie. It’s unbecoming.”

With his other hand, he swept everything off your desk—files, your monitor, a framed photo of you and Minho. The glass shattered. He pushed you backwards until you were bent over the polished wood, your cheek pressed against the cold surface.

“No! Stop! Don’t!” you cried, struggling.

He slapped you, hard. The shock of it stole your breath. “Quiet,” he commanded, his voice dropping to a whisper in your ear. His body pressed against your back, lean and unyielding. You felt the hard length of his erection against your ass. “You don’t get to say no. Not to me.”

He hiked up your pencil skirt, his fingers tearing at your stockings and panties. The fabric gave way with a sickening rip. You sobbed, pleading, but your words were muffled against the desk.

He didn’t prepare you. He unzipped his trousers and pushed himself inside you in one brutal, tearing thrust. You screamed, the pain white-hot and searing.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his breath hot on your neck. “So fucking tight. Like a virgin. But you’re not, are you? Minho’s been here. But he doesn’t own this. I do now.”

He set a ruthless pace, pounding into you, his hips slamming against your ass. The desk rattled with each thrust. One hand remained on your throat, the other gripped your hip hard enough to bruise.

“You’re my good little whore now,” he grunted. “Mine. Say it.”

You shook your head, tears streaming. He slapped your ass, the sound sharp in the quiet office. “Say it!”

“Y-yours,” you choked out, the humiliation burning worse than the pain.

“That’s right.” His movements became more erratic. “Gonna fill you up. Mark what’s mine.”

He came with a deep groan, spilling inside you, his body shuddering against yours. He held himself there for a long moment, panting, before pulling out. The sudden emptiness was almost as violating as the act itself.

He straightened his clothes, tucking himself away, smoothing his hair. He looked down at you, still bent over the desk, weeping, his release already leaking down your thighs.

“Clean yourself up,” he said, his voice back to that calm, smooth tone. “I’ll be seeing you.” He left, his footsteps fading down the hall.

You slid to the floor, amidst the shattered glass and scattered papers, and cried until you were empty.

The terror didn’t fade; it just mutated. You quit your job, citing stress. You stayed inside.

A week later, a bouquet of stargazer lilies arrived. No card. Minho was suspicious. “Who sends flowers with no note?”

“A mistake,” you said, your voice hollow. You threw them in the dumpster.

You started using the 24-hour laundromat two blocks away, going at odd hours when it was less busy. It felt safer than the one in your building.

That’s where Jay found you.

It was 11 PM on a Thursday. You were folding towels when he walked in. He was strikingly handsome, with an air of polished, effortless wealth. Designer jeans, a simple white t-shirt that clung to a sculpted chest, a leather jacket slung over his arm. He gave you a charming, practiced smile as he passed, heading for the detergent dispenser.

You kept your head down, focusing on your laundry.

A few minutes later, he was beside you. “Sorry to bother you,” he said, his voice a warm baritone. “This machine is eating my money. Think you could take a look? You seem like you know what you’re doing.”

You hesitated. “I’m not sure…”

“Please? It’s my last clean shirt.” His smile was disarming, laced with a boyish plea.

Reluctantly, you leaned over the malfunctioning machine, pressing the coin return. As you did, he crowded behind you, his front pressing against your back. Before you could react, his arm snaked around your waist, and a hand clapped over your mouth.

“Not a sound,” he breathed into your ear, his pleasant facade gone, replaced by something cold and predatory. He dragged you backward, into the narrow gap between a row of towering, humming dryers and the wall. It was a blind spot, hidden from the street view and the security camera.

He spun you to face him, pinning you against the cinderblock wall. Up close, his handsomeness was terrifying. His eyes, which had seemed warm, were now flat and hungry.

“I’ve seen you,” he whispered. “With that simp boyfriend. Holding hands in the market. Pathetic.” His free hand came up and gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You need a real man. Someone who isn’t afraid to take what he wants.”

“Let me go,” you pleaded against his palm, your voice muffled.

He shook his head slowly, a mockery of regret. “Can’t do that, sweetheart. You’ve been on my mind. That pretty mouth. Those scared little eyes.” His hand left your chin and slid down, under your sweater, over your bra. He squeezed your breast roughly. “I followed you from the flower shop last week. Saw you throw my lilies away. That was rude.”

The flowers were from him. A new wave of nausea washed over you.

He pinched your nipple through the lace, hard, making you cry out against his hand. “Quiet,” he warned. His hand traveled down, over your stomach, and pushed between your legs, palming you through your jeans. “Already getting wet for me? You’re such a slut.”

You weren’t. You were dry with fear. But your body, traitorously, was responding to the brutal stimulation, a slickness gathering that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with shock and violation. He felt it, and his grin turned wolfish.

“See? Your body knows.” He undid your jeans with quick, practiced movements, yanking them and your underwear down to your knees. The cold air hit your skin. He unzipped his own jeans, freeing a thick, heavy cock that made your breath hitch. He was big, intimidating.

He didn’t wait. He hoisted one of your legs up around his hip, forcing you open, and pushed inside.

The stretch was agonizing. You weren’t ready. You whimpered, tears spilling over.

“Tight,” he groaned, beginning to move. His thrusts were deep, deliberate, each one punching the air from your lungs. The dryers vibrated against your back. He fucked you with a focused intensity, his eyes locked on your face, watching every tear, every grimace of pain.

“You like that, don’t you? Being fucked like a cheap whore in a laundromat.” He slapped your ass, the sting sharp and startling. “Answer me.”

“N-no…”

He slapped your ass again, harder. “Liar. Your cunt’s gripping me like a vise. You love it.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “I’m gonna come inside you. Fill you up. Maybe I’ll put a baby in you. Would you like that? Carrying my kid while your boyfriend raises it?”

The horror of his words, combined with the relentless friction, coiled a sickening tension in your gut. Your body, against your will, was building towards a climax, a betrayal so profound it shattered something inside you.

“I can feel you clenching,” he panted, his pace quickening. “You’re gonna come on my cock, you filthy bitch. Come for me.”

And you did. A silent, shuddering orgasm ripped through you, wave after wave of shame and pleasure that left you gasping. He groaned in triumph, his thrusts becoming erratic, and then he was pulsing inside you, hot and deep, his own release mingling with yours.

He held you there for a moment, his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. Then he pulled out, letting your leg drop. You sagged against the wall, your jeans around your ankles, his semen already dripping down your thigh.

He tucked himself away, zipped up, and straightened his jacket. He looked utterly composed.

“Wear a skirt next time,” he said casually, as if discussing the weather. “It’s more convenient.” He turned and walked out, leaving you crumpled in the gap between the dryers.

The city began to feel like a labyrinth designed to trap you. You stopped going out alone. Minho accompanied you everywhere. His concern was a constant, smothering presence. You couldn’t tell him the truth. How could you?

You started seeing a therapist, lying about the cause of your anxiety. You took a new job, a data entry position in a bland, open-plan office with lots of people. Safety in numbers.

Sunghoon worked in the accounting department on the other side of the floor. He was ethereally beautiful, with pale skin and sharp features that seemed carved from ice. He was quiet, efficient, always impeccably dressed. He’d smile at you in the breakroom, a small, polite thing that never reached his distant brown eyes.

For a month, it was just that—polite nods. You started to relax. Maybe this was a safe space.

Then, the company retreat.

A weekend at a secluded lodge in the mountains. Team-building exercises, shared cabins. You were paired with Sunghoon and two other colleagues for a hiking activity.

The hike was strenuous. You fell behind, your lungs burning. Sunghoon dropped back to walk with you. “Take your time,” he said, his voice soft.

The rest of the group disappeared around a bend. The woods were dense, silent except for the crunch of leaves underfoot.

“You’re very pretty, Y/N,” Sunghoon said, his tone conversational.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, speeding up.

His hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. His grip was like iron. “I wasn’t finished.”

You tried to pull away. “Let go of me.”

“I’ve watched you,” he continued, pulling you off the path, into a thicket of trees. “You carry yourself like you’re better than everyone. Like you’re pure.” He pushed you against a broad pine tree, the bark scraping through your thin jacket. “But I know what you are. I saw the bruises on your thigh last week in the breakroom. Someone’s already been marking you.”

Panic seized you. “That was—I fell.”

“Don’t lie.” His voice was still calm, almost bored. He unbuttoned your jeans. “Let’s see if you’re as pure as you pretend.”

“No! Please, Sunghoon, don’t!”

He slapped you. It wasn’t a hard, angry slap like Heeseung’s. It was a crisp, precise strike, meant to stun and humiliate. “Quiet. You’ll disturb the wildlife.”

He yanked your jeans and underwear down, his cold fingers probing between your legs. You were dry, clenched tight with fear.

“Hm.” He spat on his fingers, roughly pushed two inside you. The intrusion was brutal. You cried out, and he covered your mouth with his other hand.

“Such a tight little cunt,” he murmured, his face close to yours, his breath smelling of mint. He scissored his fingers, stretching you. “But look, you’re getting wet. Your body knows its purpose.”

Tears streamed down your face. He was right. The awful, unwanted slickness was returning, a physiological betrayal.

He unzipped his trousers. His cock was long and slender, like the rest of him. He positioned himself and pushed in. The stretch was different this time—a slow, burning invasion.

He fucked you with a cold, detached rhythm, his eyes fixed on your face, studying your reactions as if you were a specimen. He didn’t grunt or swear. He was silent, save for his controlled breathing.

“You’re thinking of your boyfriend,” he stated. “Pathetic. He can’t have you like this. Only I can.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear. “I’m going to come inside you. And you’re going to thank me.”

You shook your head, sobbing against his hand.

He increased his pace, his hips snapping against yours. The friction, combined with your own treacherous wetness, began to build that familiar, hated tension. You tried to fight it, to go somewhere else in your mind.

“I can feel you tightening,” he whispered, a flicker of heat finally entering his icy voice. “Come for me, you dirty girl. Come on the cock of the man you ignored for a month.”

The command, the humiliation, tipped you over the edge. A sharp, painful climax tore through you, your muscles clamping down on him. He groaned, a soft, almost surprised sound, and followed you over, his release spilling deep inside you with a few final, deep thrusts.

He pulled out, tucked himself away, and smoothed his hair. He looked down at you, slumped against the tree, exposed and soiled.

“Button up,” he said, his voice flat once more. “We don’t want to be late for the trust fall exercise.” He turned and walked back to the path, leaving you to scramble your clothes back on with trembling hands.

After the retreat, you broke. You told Minho you were sick, that you needed to go stay with a cousin in another city for a while. You just needed to get away. He argued, but you were insistent. You packed a single bag and bought a train ticket to Busan.

You thought you’d escaped.

The train was crowded. You found your seat, tucked your bag under your legs, and stared out the window, watching the city blur into countryside. You allowed yourself a sliver of hope.

“Excuse me? Is this seat 14B?”

You looked up. The man smiling down at you was sun-kissed and handsome, with kind, crinkling eyes and a disarming smile. He looked… safe.

“Yes,” you said, moving your bag.

“Thanks. I’m Jake.” He settled into the seat beside you, radiating a friendly warmth. He made easy small talk—about the weather, the slow train, his visit to his grandmother in Daegu. He was funny, gentle. For the first time in months, you felt your shoulders untense. You even laughed at a joke.

In Busan, you rented a small, furnished studio near the beach. For three days, you breathed. You walked along the shore, the salt air cleansing. You thought maybe you could start over.

On the fourth day, as you carried groceries back to your studio, a motorcycle screeched to a halt beside you. The rider took off his helmet.

Jake.

His friendly smile was still in place. “Y/N? Wow, what a coincidence!”

The coincidence was too perfect. The ice water of dread flooded your veins.

“Jake… hi.”

“Small world! Listen, I’m meeting some friends at a bar nearby. You should come. You shouldn’t be alone in a new city.”

You declined, making an excuse, your heart hammering. He looked disappointed but understanding. “Another time, then.”

That night, there was a knock on your door. You peered through the peephole. Jake stood there, holding a bottle of wine and a concerned expression.

“I know you said no,” he called through the door, his voice muffled but warm. “But I was worried. You seemed… lonely. Just one drink? For my peace of mind?”

He seemed so genuine. So kind. The part of you that was starved for normal human connection overruled your fear. You opened the door.

“Just one,” you said.

He beamed. “Great!”

He was charming. He talked about his job (he was a physical therapist), his love of surfing, his family. He poured the wine. It was rich and red. You drank it too quickly, grateful for the warmth in your belly, the softening of the sharp edges of your fear.

A pleasant fog descended. Your limbs felt heavy. Jake’s face swam in your vision, his smile still kind.

“You’re tired,” he said softly, taking the glass from your slack fingers. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“M’okay…” you slurred.

He helped you up, his arm strong around your waist. He led you to the bed, laying you down. He brushed your hair from your face. “So pretty,” he murmured. “So perfect.”

His hands began to undress you. You tried to protest, to push him away, but your arms were leaden.

“Shhh, pretty girl,” he cooed, his voice like honey. “It’s okay. Jake’s here. I’ll take care of you. You want this. You’ve been asking for it with those scared little eyes.”

“No…” you whimpered.

“Yes,” he said firmly, but his smile never faded. He stripped you naked, then undressed himself. His body was tanned, muscular. His cock was thick and curved, already fully hard. He knelt between your legs, spreading them.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his eyes drinking you in. “Made for me.” He didn’t force entry. He leaned down and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, his tongue circling. A shock of unwanted sensation jolted through you. He switched to the other, biting gently, then not so gently.

His hand slid between your legs, his fingers parting your folds. “So wet already,” he lied. The wine, the shock, had made you pliant but not aroused. He spat on his fingers and pushed them inside, working them in and out. “There we go. That’s my girl.”

He positioned himself at your entrance. “This might hurt a little,” he said, as if apologizing for stepping on your toe. “But it’ll feel good soon. I promise.”

He pushed in. The stretch was immense, burning. You cried out, a weak, thready sound.

“Shhh, I know, baby, I know.” He sank in to the hilt, his weight settling on you. He began to move, slow, deep, grinding thrusts that filled you unbearably. He kissed your tears away. “You’re taking me so well. Such a good girl. My good girl.”

His pretended tenderness was the most terrifying thing you’d experienced. He fucked you like a lover, whispering endearments, even as he held your wrists pinned above your head, his grip unbreakable. He talked about the future, about putting a baby in you, about how beautiful you’d look round with his child.

“Gonna fill you up, darling,” he panted, his rhythm increasing. “Gonna breed you. Make you a mommy. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Being full of me always.”

You came then, a silent, shuddering release born of overstimulation and sheer physiological betrayal. He smiled against your neck, pleased. “That’s it. Come for me.” His own climax followed, a hot, pulsing flood deep inside you. He collapsed on you, nuzzling your hair. “Mine,” he breathed.

He didn’t leave. He held you all night, a possessive cage. In the hazy pre-dawn light, he woke you by entering you again, this time from behind, his arm tight around your waist, his teeth on your shoulder. “Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, as he took you.

Before he left, he made you breakfast—eggs and toast. He kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back tonight. Wear something nice for me.” He left as if he were a doting boyfriend.

You sat at the tiny table, staring at the cold eggs, the taste of him still inside you, his scent on your sheets. You were well and truly trapped.

You stopped leaving the studio. Jake visited nightly. Sometimes he was “sweet.” Sometimes, if you resisted, his smile would freeze and he’d punish you—holding your head underwater in the sink until you thrashed, or making you kneel on the rough concrete floor for hours.

You got sick. A urinary tract infection, burning and painful. You had to go to a pharmacy.

The young man behind the counter was beautiful in an almost effeminate way, with sparkling eyes and a bright, welcoming smile. His name tag read ‘Sunoo.’

“How can I help you?” he chirped.

Muttering, face burning, you asked for the medication. His smile didn’t falter. “Of course. Do you have a prescription?”

You showed him the slip from the clinic. His eyes scanned it, and his smile turned knowing. “Oh, honey. These are rough. I have something better.” He produced a different box. “Stronger. More effective.”

You were too embarrassed and in pain to argue. You took the pills he offered.

A week later, the infection was worse. You returned. Sunoo recognized you immediately, his face a mask of sympathy. “Not better? That’s terrible. Come, let me check your file in the consultation room.”

The small, private room had a single chair and a desk. He closed the door and locked it. The click was soft, final.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” Sunoo said, his voice losing its melodic warmth, turning syrupy and sinister.

“What?”

He opened a drawer and pulled out your original prescription. “You didn’t take the medicine I gave you, did you? You went to another pharmacy. That hurts my feelings.” He tore the prescription slip in half. “I replaced your pills with sugar. You shouldn’t be putting those chemicals in your body anyway. Not when it’s meant for other things.”

You stood up to leave. He pushed you back into the chair, his strength surprising.

“I know all about you,” he whispered, kneeling before you, his hands on your knees. “Jake talks in his sleep. He’s so proud of his pretty little breeder.” His hands slid up your thighs, pushing your dress up. “I want a taste.”

“No, please—”

He undid his trousers, freeing a cock that was surprisingly thick. He gripped the back of your head. “Open up, slut. Let’s see if you’re as good at this as he says.”

He forced himself into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. He held you there, fucking your face with short, brutal thrusts. Tears streamed from your eyes. He moaned, playing with your hair.

“Such a good little cocksucker,” he cooed. “Swallow it all. It’s good for you. Full of protein.” He pulled out just before he came, spraying his release over your face, your hair, your open mouth. He rubbed the head of his cock over your lips, smearing it. “Clean it up.”

You sat there, trembling, covered in his semen.

He stood, tucking himself away. “I’ll get you the real antibiotics now. We can’t have an infection in the womb, can we?” He unlocked the door, his bright smile back in place. “Feel better soon!”

You stopped going out entirely. Jake brought you groceries. You were a prisoner in your own skin. You thought about running again, but where would you go? They were everywhere.

You missed books. You asked Jake to bring you some from the library. He brought a stack. One was a dense historical text you hadn’t requested. A note was tucked inside, in neat, precise handwriting: “Page 227. You’ll find it relevant.”

With trembling hands, you opened to the page. It described ancient practices of war trophies, of conquered women. The words blurred. Another note was paper-clipped to the margin: “The quiet ones see the most. – J.”

A few days later, a different book arrived, delivered by courier. No return address. It was a photo album. Your photo album. Pictures of you and Minho, of your family, of you as a child. The last page was a recent photo, taken through your studio window, of you sleeping.

You screamed and threw it across the room.

That night, you tried to call Minho. The line was dead. Jake had cut it.

The next afternoon, there was a knock. Not Jake’s familiar rap. This was sharper. You didn’t answer. The knocking persisted, then stopped.

An hour later, as you sat in the dark living room, you heard the balcony door slide open. You hadn’t locked it.

A figure slipped inside, silhouetted against the sunset. He was of average height but moved with a predator’s grace. Jungwon. You’d never seen him before, but you knew. His face was youthful but his eyes were ancient and intense.

“You’ve been ignoring my messages,” he said, his voice quiet, devoid of inflection.

You backed away. “Get out.”

He didn’t speak again. He just advanced. In his hand, a small, sharp folding knife flicked open. The blade caught the dying light.

You turned to run for the front door. He was faster. He grabbed you, spun you, and pressed the cold flat of the blade against your throat.

“Strip,” he commanded.

With the knife at your throat, you obeyed, shedding your clothes with shaking hands.

He looked you over, his gaze analytical. “On your hands and knees.”

You knelt. He moved behind you. You felt the cool edge of the blade trace a line down your spine, then between your buttocks. You flinched.

“History is written by the victors,” he whispered, his breath on your ear. He used the knife not to cut, but to threaten, to heighten the terror. He positioned himself behind you, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. He was average in length but thick, a solid, unforgiving weight.

He pushed in, not with a brutal shove, but with a slow, relentless pressure that burned and stretched you open. Once seated fully, he paused, one hand fisting in your hair, pulling your head back, the other still holding the knife flat against your stomach.

“I’ve conquered you,” he stated, and began to move. His thrusts were deep, measured, each one a claim. He fucked you with a quiet, terrifying focus, his breath steady. He bit your shoulder, hard enough to break the skin, marking you.

“You’re a chapter in my history now,” he grunted, his composure finally cracking as his pace increased. “Mine.” He came with a sharp exhale, his release hot inside you. He pulled out, wiped the knife clean on your discarded shirt, folded it, and pocketed it.

He dressed silently and left through the balcony door as quietly as he’d come.

Jake had taken you out, a rare “treat,” driving you to a secluded cliffside viewpoint at night. “Some air will do you good,” he’d said, his hand possessive on your thigh.

While he was on a phone call, you saw a shadow detach itself from the trees. A young man, tall and lanky, hood pulled up. He walked straight to the passenger door, yanked it open, and dragged you out.

“Hey!” Jake called, but he sounded more annoyed than alarmed.

The boy—Niki—shoved you against the side of the car. Up close, he was all fierce, wild beauty and unchecked malice.

“Think you’re too good, huh?” he spat, his voice rough with youth and venom. “My hyungs can’t stop talking about you. The shared slut.”

He didn’t waste time. He turned you around, bent you over the car’s hood, and pulled your pants down. His cock was long and lean, like him. He spat into his hand, slicked himself, and drove into you without ceremony.

“Fuck!” he grunted, his thrusts immediately frantic, pounding. He slapped your ass, hard, leaving stinging prints. “Take it, you bitch! You’re just a hole for us!”

He was rougher than the others, less controlled, all raw, violent need. He fucked you like he was trying to exorcise something, slamming you against the car with each thrust. He called you every filthy name he could think of.

“Gonna come in this used-up cunt,” he panted. “Mark it so everyone knows you’re ours!”

He came with a loud, guttural cry, biting the juncture of your neck and shoulder hard enough to draw blood. He stayed inside you for a moment, panting, then pulled out. He zipped up, looked at Jake, who had finished his call and was leaning against the driver’s door, watching with a faint smile.

“She’s tight, hyung,” Niki said, as if reviewing a product.

“I know,” Jake said. “Now go home. Your brother’s looking for you.”

Niki shot you one last sneer and disappeared into the darkness.

Jake helped you back into the car, tenderly wiping the blood from your neck. “He’s a bit excitable,” he said mildly. “But he’s family.”

the duke then kisses her—hard and hungry and all possessive. his fingers thread through her hair, tilting her head sideways to deepen the kiss, claiming every gasp, every sigh, every meek little moans. 

the world narrows to the heat of his mouth and the press of her kiss, and the promise that this time, this lifetime, he won’t let her go.

you sigh dreamily, cheeks flushed as you turn to the next page. 

the scene is so perfect.

it’s easy to indulge yourself in fantasy. the words wrap around you, and it’s all so vivid you can almost feel the library shelves digging into your own back. in real life, everything is softer, slower, messier, real. 

your boyfriend kisses you like he’s afraid you’re fragile, holds your hand softly, whispers i love you in your ears because those words are only meant for you. you’re not complaining because that’s just the type of person your boyfriend is…

but…

books give you teeth. books give you the possession and the chance to be somebody else. 

it’s too fucking easy to slip inside the story and pretend it’s you. to pretend love can be violent and beautiful because they’re fantasy. 

“JAY?” you said quietly. the home library is peaceful except for the faint scratch of jay’s pen across paper at his desk and the occasional turn of a page in your book. 

your boyfriend looks up immediately from over his laptop, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, glasses low on his nose. “yeah?” his response comes gentle, a little rough from disuse. he pushes his glasses up with one finger, small smile already tugging at his mouth. 

you set the book face down on your thigh. without even having to utter the words—jay closes his laptop and crosses the room in easy strides. the floorboard creaked softly under his weight. 

“hehe,” you giggle, tipping your head back as he reaches you, hands already reaching for his shirt collar. he leans down, one palm cupping the back of your neck, the other bracing on the armrest beside you. 

the kiss starts slow with his lips brushing yours like he’s asking for permission even though he never needs to. you sigh into his mouth, fingers tightening around his shirt. “harder?” you whimper against his lips.

your boyfriend pauses in a heartbeat—then kisses you deeper. his tongue slides against yours, hands sliding between your locks, tilting your head exactly how he—you—wants it. it’s still careful, still jay, but with a little more pressure and hunger now. 

your teeth grazes his lower lip, eliciting a groan out of him low in his throat. 

what’s gotten to you?—jay wants to ask, but his eyes land on the book before he can bring the question to life. 

the ruthless duke.

the gold foil imprinted on the title glint under the lamp, the heroine’s illustrated face flushed and surrendered on the cover with the—jay assume—duke’s hand around her throat from the back.

oh, it all makes sense now.

you’re wishing for this kind of love. you’re sitting here in his house, on his couch, reading the book he gave you money for… getting wet over someone else’s words. letting a fictional man make your pulse race and thighs press together. 

his jaw tightens. irritation simmers under his skin—if you want rough, he can give you rough.

your boyfriend’s hand slides to the back of your neck—firmer now as he pulls you in again for a kiss. his teeth catches your lower lip and bites down—hard enough that you gasp sharply into his mouth. 

“hngh!” you whimper, copper blooms on your tongue and he tastes it in his tastebuds, dragging his teeth until your lip swells under the pressure. 

jay pulls back just enough to look at you. his thumb brushes the fresh blood on your bottom lip, smearing like lipstick. on the surface, his eyes are still soft, still full of that gentle love he always washes you with.

but inside—since you want rough so badly—something darker is uncoiling. 

his gaze drifts to the thick hardcover novel lying on the little table beside you—your heavy 600-page isekai fantasy book with sharp edges. yeah, sharp edges. the same one you were reading just before you pulled him in for a kiss. 

without a word, jay reaches over and picks it up. his fingers wrap tightly around the spine, feeling the solid weight of it.

you’re still dabbing the blood with your sleeves, winching in pain each time air hits the open blood. you tilt your head, still dazed from the kiss, eyebrows pinch slightly. “...jay?”

he smiles at you.

then he swings the book hard.

thwack. 

the sharp edge of the book catches your cheekbone and the bridge of your nose—you feel something crunch. blood instantly pours from your nose and the fresh gash on your cheek, dripping down onto your shirt.

“ah—! jay—what?!” you sob, raising your hand instinctively to protect your face.

he doesn’t stop.

his expression stays eerily calm, almost tender, as he grips the thick hardcover tighter and brings it down again.

thwack. thwack.

two brutal hits in succession—one across your raised arms, the other slamming directly into the side of your forehead. the heavy book’s sharp corner splits the skin on your forehead. you scream as stars explore behind your eyes.

“jay—stop—please—!” you cry out, voice breaking as you try to protect yourself.

but he keeps hitting you.

the book crashes against your jaw, snapping your head back. blood sprays from your mouth as your lip splits wider. 

he swings again and again, the heavy 600 page novel turning into a weapon. each impact only lands harder than the last—on your arms, shoulders, the top of your head, your already bleeding cheek. the sound of the hardcover hitting flesh and bone fills the room, wet, filth, obscene, and sickening.

you curl into a ball on the floor, trying desperately to shield yourself, but jay leans over you, breathing heavier now, eyes glazed with dark satisfaction.

you whimper, blood staining the carpet. your vision blurs, ears ringing violently. 

“you’re always lost in this fucking book,” he says quietly. “if i wasn’t a better man, i’d take it as cheating.” 

thwack.

jay slams the book down on the back of your head with viscous force. the impact is so brutal, your skill jolts forward and bounces against the floor. a sharp, cracking sound echoes in your ears. pain once again explodes through your brain. you let out a gurgling cry as fresh blood trickles from your ear.

your body is trembling uncontrollably now. your face is a swollen, bloody mess—nose broken, lips split, one eye already black and swelling shit, deep gashes across your cheek, temple, forehead. 

the carpet beneath you is soaked with warm blood, and your arms are covered in ugly purple bruises from trying to block his hits. you can barely think straight. you can’t fucking think at all. 

jay stares down at your crumpled form for a moment, breathing hard, the blood–smeared book still in his grip. your boyfriend gently caresses the top of your bloody head, fingers stroking your bloody hair lovely, pushing matted strands away from your battered face.

“poor baby…” he murmurs sweetly. “look what you made me do.”

without warning, he roughly grabs your shoulder and flips you onto your back. you cry out weakly as your head hits the floor again. jay straddles your chest, pinning you down with his weight.

he reaches for the thick hardcover that’s blood smeared and flips it open. the sound of ripping paper fills the room as he violently tears out whole chunks of pages—dozens at a time—crumpling the ink–stained sheets in his fist. 

“since you love this fuck book so much,” he hisses, almost affectionately. “you’re going to eat every fucking word.”

he forces your swollen, bleeding mouth open with one hand, digging his fingers into your jaw until it hurts. you sob and gag, trying to turn your head away, but he’s too strong. jay’s always been too strong—he just never shows it. 

he shoves the first crumpled wad of pages deep into your mouth, pushing them past your tongue, and deeper down your throat.

you choke instantly—your body convulsing underneath. blood and saliva soak the paper as you struggle to breathe. jay doesn’t stop—he rips out more pages and stuffs them in, forcing them down with two fingers, pushing harder when you gag violently.

“swallow,” he whispers, voice gentle like he’s coaxing you to eat one of the things he made. “be a good girl and swallow it all. this is what you wanted, right? indulged in your precious book…”

tears stream down your temples. your throat spasms painfully around the thick, sodden mass of paper and blood.

jay rips out even more pages—bigger chunks this time—putting it out in front of him. 

“...and the duke slammed the maiden against the wall, hiking up her skirts as he fucked her hard and deep, claiming her with every brutal thrust—” jay lets out a cold, quiet laugh that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“wow… this is shit…”

his expression darkens, the fake amusement vanishes, replaced by simmering rage. 

he crumples the pages violently in his fist, then forces your jaw open wider, ignoring your muffled, choking whimpers. jay shoves the pages deep into your already stuffed mouth, pushing the new ones in with aggressive fingers. the paper scrapes against your tongue and forces its way down your swollen throat. 

you convulse violently underneath, gagging and retching.

“yeah—swallow your precious duke. swallow every dirty fucking word. since you love this shit so much… you can die with it inside you.”

he leans closer, pushing the last big wad of paper down your throat with two fingers until your airway is completely blocked. your body jerks and spasms harder, eyes rolling back. 

for a few long, terrible seconds, your body continues to twitch and shudder beneath. your throat spasms as it tries to swallow saliva—but nothing can get past the papers down your throat. your chest falls still, your eyes stare blankly at the ceiling, glassy and lifeless.

the only sound left in the room is jay’s breathing as he stares down at your dead, bloodied face—pages still protruding from your swollen lips. 

“jay!”

you gasp sharply, pulling back from the kiss. 

jay blinks, suddenly yanks back into reality. his eyes refocused. you’re still sitting on his lap, lips red and slightly bleeding from how hard he’d bitten you earlier. his hand was still gripping the back of your neck, but gentle.

you were breathing fast, a shy little smile tugging at your busted lip. “hehe… i like this side of you.”

jay’s eye twitched.

he stared at you, that soft, perfect boyfriend smile slowly returning to his face. but the grip on the back of your neck tightens a little more,

“well…” he murmurs, voice low and velvety, “i ought to show more of it then, my maiden.”